THE BAN DHU

Taranaki Daily News, 31 August 1935, Page 23 (Supplement)

THE BAN DHU

L ®

Desmond Lough)

CHAPTER 23 (continued)

"Well, Mrs. Munroe,” he cried heartily, “so‘Alec seems to have wired.” He stopped as he read aright the scene before him. Johanna handed him the telegram in silence. ■ “Dangerously ill! That’s murder if he dies; murder.• Someone will > hang for this if he does!” '

1 “Murder!” cried Johanna., “Yes, murder! I know'the law. If a person dies, within three months of an attack, and it looks as if Munroe was dying, .it’s murder. He wasn’t, fit-to travel. I’ll go up with you first thing in the morning, Mrs. Munroe,” he patted her kindly on the shaking shoulder. “I’ll wire at once. Meanwhile—meanwhile,” he looked rather helplessly at Johanna. Mrs. Munroe roused herself with an effort. Long years with the stem though kindly Scot had taught her self control. “Thank you, sir, you’re very kind. I’ll put his things away, flow; he may never want them.” Mechanically she began to throw the various articles of clothing into the drawers.

“I’ll be ready to go with you, sir. Now please would you leave me?” Johanna took her father’s hand and led him from the room. ; “Best leave her alone; we can'do nothing for her yet.” X . \ Mr. Prestwich sent off the telegram and returned. “Terrible business, terrible business. Where’s Lionel?”. “I don’t know, dad. He’s out somewhere, I think.” “He should be in soon for dinner. I must go and pack up.” Left to herself, Johanna thought out the new situation. In spite of genuine grief over the ' tragedy, she could not but feel that it would ease her meeting with Lionel. She had something entirely outside themselves to tell him, and it would assist in bridging the chasm. “I’m a beast to think of such a thing now,” she muttered, but : who could blame her?

Lionel did not return for dinner. A great fear gripped her when its hour arrived and he did not. He must have changed’ his mind and done as he .said he would—gone away without a. word.

"I can’t understand it,” said Mr. Prestwich ■ .again and again. “He never did anything like this before. .Always punctual; one-of the things I liked about him.”

After dinner Johanna went to Lionel’s room. No, he had not packed up' and gone! All his things were there. A greater fear seized, her. Was he, too, a victim of the terrible power that seemed to menace them lately? . Who could help her? The Fairy Child? No. Old Mrs. MacMorrough? No. Sean .Burke? Perhaps. He had promised tohelp them before. He was young and strong. In a few minutes she was running to the village to seek him. And Lionel? Better prepared and more alert than Mrs. MacMorrough, he travelled the same road until he came.to the,second cavern. And there, across the black pool, he saw the flare of the fire,-and x a dark, hunched up figure! CHAPTER 24. ' When Kathleen reached home, she was quiet, even for her. Her grandmother watched her go to ..the fire and .stoop over the. glowing turf, although - it- was far from !cold. . : . “’Tis queer things have been happenin' to you. and yours the last couple o’ days, .girLl Danm them strangers, cornin’ hefe■'td 6 .distyr|> our peace—all of them!” “They’re .‘gone now, gran, the.- two of ‘“There's ' more than two strangers come. to Knockarra of late, and ’(ns you tha.t/kndw it?well, an’ think' of it jjften.” ; .'‘i’ye..bad enough of strangers. . I'll bid'eSvithi yb'u, : gran—what’s- been good enotjgjij far. you all these years is .good enough'for. me'.” ; . ‘fiat’s'the.wise word your, after say.in’, girl; not like,what you"said .yesterday whe'n 'you were so 'full of your notions,”' Kathleen did not . reply. ’ She was fumbling at her dress. Her hand -was clenched when, she withdrew it. Then, she poked the turf into a blaze. Stopping she quickly thrust something into it, but not quickly enough to prevent her grandmother's keen old eyes from seeing that it was a little ball of linen. The'old woman uttered a cackling laugh of triumph. ■ “What are you laughing at, gran?” “Nothin', child, nothin’.” Mrs., MacMorrough looked into the fire where the i-ag had flared and died. Then she sighed;

“I mind of the day when I .plucked love from my heart,” she said musingly. ’’l thought it was broken. surely,, an’ maybe it was—but you can mend a cracked jug so; that it will hold water, though it’mayn’t be as pretty a .thing as it was. There’s a lot of broken .jugs in the ’ world, Kathleen, that do 1 their work near as well as if they were Whole.”

Kathleen remembered many things, her memory jogged by these -words. 'Tye heard that ; you were the handsomest girl in these parts,: when you were -young, gran, and sure ’tis handsome you are still.” . ■ - “A-withered old woman like me?” But the compliment pleased. .. “That night when you played the pipes —I ■ thought you were handsome then.”

“A -bit Of the old time came back to me, maybe. If you think young, you are young. Och! what am I doin’ chatterin’ -to you who are only a chit of a girl.” • “I’ve grown up in the last few days; you said so yourself, graft.” ’ “Sore hearts make the years gather quick over your Head before their time. What about it? Your gran’father was a good man, and had the best blood in Jreland in him. A prince he was if he had his rights—aye, and rich he’d have been, if he only had what-’was rightly his.” “How was that, gran?" . .

“You wouldn’t understand, child. I can’t do/the things that I once did. ’Tis the lonely old woman I am.”

“Gran!” Kathleen stretched out her brown young hand and placed it on the .withered one. “Don’t be lonely any more. You have me. You know what they call me here—the Fairy Child— I think T am, sometimes. They call you the Wise . Woman; of Knockarra —we are both' people apart from them. Won’t you tell me the story of your life? It might case things -for you if you did. One isn’t so lonely'when there's another to share the trouble with you." The old woman wavered, patting the girl’s hand. “Maybe ’tis just out of curiosity you’re askin’ me, like the rest of them.”

She looked eagerly for a denial, and she.got Jt. Kathleen withdrew her hand. ■ ‘ “I’m sorry you think that of me, gran. I only meant well by youi aS you-ought to know.”

“Yes, yes, child. I knew, but I Wanted to hear you saj it, ’Tis. wise ye are for all-yere so young, for ye know the way to open my heart: Ye have grown from a child to a woman in the last few days. Nought but a man could make ye do that, an’ I know the man. ’Tis Mr. O’Hara from' Dublin that’s in your thoughts an’ now you’re puttin’ him away from them —that’s wise of ye. though he’s a better one than I thought him to be, for the good turn he done ye, better than ye know perhaps.”

“I never thought ought about him but that I liked him, and he was good and kind to me. Anyway, he’s engaged to Miss Jonna beyond.”

Kathleen almost told the truth. Well indeed was it for her that she had had that heart to heart talk with Johanna-. So untouched by passion of any kind had her young life been, that she had scarcely known of the budding of love that had been nipped before its red petals could burst from their immaturity to dazzle and devastate her soul. The old woman read her unformed thoughts aright and understood her. Wisely she passed the danger point. “Of course, girl, I know. They have always been sayin’ that Miss Jonna. would make a match with a stranger. 'Tis glad I am that she made the choice she did. ' Well, Kathleen,- I’ve been thinkin’ of what ye have been sayin’ while ye’ve been talkin’, and. I’ve made up my mind to tell ye all. ’Tisn’t just because I’m' lonely; I’ve borne that for many a year, but I’m gettin’ near my end and I’ll not be livin’ too long now, ’tisn’t nature that I should, and then you’ll be the last of us .in these parts. ’Tis only right that you should know what I know, and what I’ve just found out. I’m all shook up an’ I can’t face it again, not yet anyway. I may never be able to do what I would do if I could.” '

She paused and Kathleen sat staring at her wide-eyed. So she was to learn her grandmother’s secret at last! “The Breslins and the Burkes were neighbours an’ friends. You said right when you said I was handsome, an’ many a boy had on eye on me, but there was one I cared for, and that was Donal Burke. Then the mountainy girl came between us. With the black eyes of her she bewitched him, for that was what it was, for I was better lookin’ than she was by far. A terrible big, tall woman she was, and as strong as any man, with a face like a hawk.” Even in old age jealousy still consumed Cauth MacMorrough, for the past generation had deemed the stranger girl at least her equal in looks. “He left me. for her, and they were married. She had a child, it came before its time, I believe, and was born dead. They say she went mad with sorrow for it. ’Twas glad I was that grief came to them two, aye, and I’m glad of it still! She disappeared. I needn’t teip you all that was said, but there was bitter hatred between Donal and me from • that day. “Then I married your grandfather. He always had a wish for me, an’ I gave him the cracked jug of my heart,” she laughed at her own simile, “an’ it held enough love to satisfy him. He wasn’t like Donal, he was a slight bit of a man, an’ so was your father, his son, that’s what has made you a small girl, Kathleen; and he was never- very strong. Before he died—God rest him—one day he gave, me the wolf’s skull, the one you swore on, an’ he told me the story of it. Maybe ’twas only a. story, but. I think ’tis time, it is. Long ago when there were wolves in Ireland, a MacMorrough had killed it. It was- the biggest and . fiercest beast that was ever known; some thought it was more than a wolf—that a witch, the Ban Dhii—a robber she was—had to ride on. A hundred miles or more it could go in a night. It guarded the gold she stole in the Rock aifter killing travellers and merchants and the like. They cut the head off it an’ hung it on the wall, and put the body out in the yard. The next day the body was gone, but the skullwas. where they left it, for there was a crucifix on the table in front of it, and she couldn’t steal it back. And they said that without her wolf the Ban Dhu lost her' power' and died, and that 7 iis her • ghost that haiirits the Rock ever since. MacMorrough knew- the. secret, but.he died before he cdiijd get the gold. Rage killed, the Ban Dhu, the cross was too strongs for it. i None' ever saw the Ban DhU-for hundreds of years, though its story: was never forgotten, and then, about the time I married your grandfather, there was some said that they saw it again.; Not, of ten ’twas seen, but the oiild thief of a witch, that robbed the people, long ago was said to take things from the folks that lived near Knockarra.: I didn’t believe it myself. There are tinkers .and the like often goin’ about, an’ more .than likely ’twas them that done-it. Anyway, there’s been things taken now and then. Some meat or bread or such, an’ now an’ then clothes left out on the hedges or lines to dry, but ’twas only black or white things that ever were taken. And they say that the body of the wolf, and the Ban Dhu’s black sperrit are guardin’ the treasure still. People don’t know where it should be, if it’s there at all. Your grandfather said that his father had an ould map that showed where it was, but that he had lost it, more’s the pity if ’twas true;” . The old woman paused. “Do you all that, gran?” asked Kathleen in a low voice. “Will you let it be now, Kathleen, that I’ve told you that much, or do you want to hear more? It might be better for you to let the rest go, but I’ll do as you wish.” “Tell me more, gran.”

“Then I . do. believe it, for I’ve seen the skeleton-an’ I’ve seen the Ban Dhu guardin’ the. treasure!” “Where, oh where?” “In the cave under the. Witch’s Rock.” “How did you*see, it?” '■

“That’s not here nor there. I wasn’t seekin’ it. It might be death to seek it again.” “What is the thing at all?” cried Kathleen, “Some people say they have seen it; were always afraid to speak of it. Shouldn’t we be as strong as the old MacMorrough that killed the wolf? If he hadn’t died when he did, wouldn’t he have got the treasure?” “Maybe he would, but he was a great warrior; ah, there were great men in those days. Your grandfather, that knew a power about them things, he said ’twas a terrible beast entirely, it had killed hundreds,' the ' biggest wolf ever seen. I can’t go beyond that. What odds is it

anyway?” - “If you know where the skeleton is, gran, why don’t you let the two of us go and find the treasure?” “A child- and a weak old woman! Are ye mad?” -' “My grandfather would have gone,” said Kathleen sturdily, “if he had his map, or knew as much as you do. If we don’t go alone, can’t we get someone to help -.us? - There’s many a one—no, there isn’t, though—’tis afraid they’d be.” “You’re right there, an’ if we did go d’ye think that I’d welcome sharin’ it with them after; all our trouble an’ danger. Little of it we’d get with all them omadawns in the village fightin’ an’ scrappin’ for anything they could lay their hands on.” “There's —there’s Sean Burke might help; I kno-tv you don’t like him, an’ now I know why> But sure ’tisn’t his f§ult that old Donal treated you the way he did.”

’■ “No Burke will have a part or lot in it, I’m fellin’ ye, girl.” But her tone was not very decided. (To be continued).