Meath Folk Tales E-Book

Marsh Richard

• Herausgeber: THP Ireland
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Meath, the 'Royal County', has a rich heritage of myths and legends which is uniquely captured in this collection of traditional tales from across the county. Here you will find tales of the first occupation of Ireland and the exploits of St Patrick and Colmcille along with stories of witches, hags, ghosts and fairies. As well as the legends of the Hill of Tara, the ancient political capital and enduring spiritual heartland of Ireland. In a vivid journey through Meath's varied landscape, local storyteller Richard Marsh takes the reader to places where legend and landscape are inseparably linked.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Title Page

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1 Dunshaughlin

2 Slane

3 The Gormanston Foxes

4 The Teltown Fairs

5 The Black Pig’s Dyke

6 The Battle of the Boyne

7 The White Horse of the Peppers

8 Threefold Deaths

9 Cormac Mac Airt

10 Ardbraccan and St Ultán

11 Kells

12 Werewolves

13 The Hill of Tara

14 The Cursing of Tara

15 Achall (The Hill of Skryne)

16 Cúchulainn at Crossakeel and Áth n-Gabla

17 How the Rivers Nanny and Delvin Got Their Names

18 Garrawog

19 A Ballad of Moybologue

20 Taken by the Fairies

21 The Three Deaths of Fionn mac Cumhaill

22 Gates That Won’t Stay Closed

23 The Speaking Stones

24 Things You Might Meet on the Road

25 Cromwell

26 The 1798 Rebellion

27 Buried Alive

28 Lough Sheelin Loch Síodh Linn – Lake of the Fairy Pool

29 Cures and Spells

30 Hidden Treasure

31 The Prophet Meldrum

32 Holy Wells

33 Newgrange – the Palace of Angus

34 The River Boyne

35 Sleeping Soldiers

36 Navan

37 Barney Curley, Modern Folk Hero

38 Miscellaneous Tales

Bibliography

Copyright

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am grateful for the resources and the generous help of the staff at the National Library of Ireland, the National Folklore Collection at University College Dublin, the Royal Society of Antiquities of Ireland, and the Meath County Library. Also, Ríocht na Midhe and the Meath authors of locally published and self-published books, especially the prolific Tommy Murray, where I have found some of these stories, deserve credit for collecting and disseminating their heritage.

ILLUSTRATIONS

Sarah Carney: ‘Tri-spiral Newgrange’, p. 152

Hugh O’Connor: ‘Cormac Blinded’, p. 62; ‘Death of Fionn’, p. 112

Fiona Dowling: ‘Werewolves’, p. 76

Lisa Lennon: ‘Headless Man’, p. 33

Brendan Lynch: ‘Cross of the Scriptures’, p. 57; ‘Market Cross Kells’, p. 71; ‘Tower of Lloyd Kells’, p. 73; ‘Newgrange exterior’, p. 156; ‘Babe’s Bridge’, p. 169; ‘Yellow Steeple Trim’, p. 179; ‘Maiden Tower and Lady’s Finger’, p. 186

Carmen Merina: ‘Daniel O’Connell’, p. 79

Eléonore Nicolas: ‘Gormanston Foxes’, p. 26

Terrie O’Neill: ‘Black Pig’, p. 37; ‘Cúchulainn’, p. 92; ‘Molly Weston’, p. 130

Brian Power: “Death of Diarmait’, p. 59; Al and Fairy’, p. 83; ‘Name of Delvin’, p. 96; ‘Garrawog’, p. 99; ‘Long Man’, p. 121; ‘Buried Alive’, p. 133

Bobby Redmond: ‘St Ultán’, p. 67; ‘Cursing of Tara’, p. 86

Andrew Smyth: ‘Dead Coach’, p. 124

INTRODUCTION

The unwritten stories of Ireland mostly linger in the memories of old persons, and fast are they dying out; so that, in a few generations, all trace of them must be forgotten, since no record has been preserved, and few efforts have been made to place them in a shape, which might serve to perpetuate their poetical and imaginative character.

(John O’Hanlon, The Buried Lady: A Legend of Kilronan, Dublin 1877)

Fortunately, many of those unwritten stories lamented by Father O’Hanlon have since been written down and are preserved in the National Folklore Collection at University College Dublin, which I have plundered for some of the stories in this book. I have made little effort to ‘place them in a shape’, choosing instead to present them as I found them, leaving intact the poetical and imaginative character of the tellers’ voices. Similarly with the more literary medieval accounts of legendary history, whose talented authors were often more economical with words and insightful into the human condition than later writers.

Seán Ó Súilleabháin’s description of the folktales and legends in his Miraculous Plenty (1952, 2012) can be applied to many of the tales in this book: ‘not history, but attempts to fill the gaps left in history’. They are the people’s versions of history, and they often present a sharper, more personal close-up picture of past events than official accounts. ‘Old men would be turned three times in their beds, to see if they were fit to serve in the army.’ (See chapter 5.) You won’t read that in the history books.

Great events and prominent figures are brought within reach when it is remembered in Duleek that King James, fleeing from the Battle of the Boyne, fell as he was crossing over a gate, giving Kingsgate its name. The more distant past is connected with the present by place-names such as Ardbraccan, founded by St Patrick’s nephew Breacain next to the sacred tree of Bile Tortan, which was planted from a seed supplied by Fintan, sole survivor of the Great Deluge. Mythology is literally brought to earth in Meath. Who can visit Newgrange or cross the great river of Meath, the Boyne, without being reminded of the mound’s original resident, Bóann?

The traditional stories we now call myth and legend were once taught as history in Irish schools. With no documentary evidence to prove that they really happened, they were relegated to the status of folklore by modernisers in the second half of the twentieth century. At the same time, the Welsh education authorities began presenting the great mythological cycle of the Mabinogion as pre-history. Now Lleu Llaw Gyffes and Manawyddan vab Llyr live on in the imaginations of Welsh children and inhabit their local landscapes, as they did not do for their parents, and as those Welsh heroes’ Irish counterparts, Lugh of the Long Arm and Manannán mac Lir, no longer do for this country’s children.

Local stories document the successes and failures, hopes and fears of ourselves and our neighbours, and celebrate local characters and events: Meldrum the Prophet, Collier the Robber, Tom the Buddha, for example. These are preserved to a great extent in local and self-published books, such as the prolific output of the late Tommy Murray – who might have written this book if he had lived longer – and the journal of the Meath Archaeological and Historical Society, Ríocht na Midhe.

Why Methe had that name: the chief King of Ireland, called Tweltactor [Tuathal Techtmar], called before him all the Kings of Ireland, and required at their hand their goodwills that he might enjoy that cuige or fifth part of Ireland, and they with one assent refused that to do; whereupon he strack off their heads, so that a body without a head is called in Irish Meythe, which name to this time resteth.

(The Book of Howth, sixteenth century)

Long since, [Ireland] was devided into foure regions, Leinster East, Connaght West, Ulster North, Mounster South, and into a fifth plot defalked [deducted] from every fourth part, lying together in the heart of the Realme, called thereof Media, Meath.

(A Historie of Ireland, Edmund Campion, 1571)

In some of the old stories set in Meath, the term Brega – with variations Breg, Bregia, Bregha – is used, often preceded by ‘Mag/Magh’, meaning ‘plain’. It encompasses a territory bounded by Dublin, Ardee, Drogheda, and Athboy; that is, the modern County Meath with the addition of parts of Counties Louth and Dublin. Meath was designated a county in 1210 and divided into East Meath and West Meath in 1542, and over time reached its present reduced size after ceding territory to surrounding counties.

As its name suggests, Meath tends to be in the middle of things. The strongest of the Anglo-Norman barons, Hugh de Lacy, grabbed as much of its fertile fields as he could in the twelfth century and made his headquarters in Trim, where he built the finest castle of its type in Ireland.

The Hill of Tara was the political centre of Ireland for 1,000 years, until it was cursed in the sixth century AD, and it continues to be an emotional and sacred focal point. As the meeting place of heroes, kings and gods, Tara has seen the beginnings and climaxes of many mythological, legendary and historical dramas and confrontations: Lugh of the Many Talents, Midir and Étaín and Eochaid, Diarmuid and Gráinne, Fionn mac Cumhaill and Conn of the Hundred Battles, King Diarmait and St Ruadán, the 1798 Battles of Tara, Daniel O’Connell’s Monster Meeting of 1843 against the Act of Union, and the anti-motorway occupation from 2007 to 2010.

The Battle of Gabhra-Achall, which took place next to Tara, signalled the end of the Fianna. The 5,200-year-old Newgrange is the most popular ancient site in Ireland. St Patrick announced the arrival of Christianity on the Hill of Slane. Trevet near Dunshaughlin has a claim for being the first Christian site in Ireland.

The Salmon of Wisdom, by which Fionn mac Cumhaill got his Thumb of Wisdom that allowed him to answer any question, was caught on the River Boyne, and the Meath Coat of Arms proudly bears that same Bradán Feasa.

The Ulster hero Cúchulainn was a native of Meath. He was born at Newgrange, and his head and right hand are buried at Tara, and the rest of him at the Hill of Slane. He remains a potent iconic figure in Irish mythological history and politics. Cúchulainn and Jesus Christ were the heroes of Patrick Pearse, the leader of the 1916 Easter Rising, because they gave their lives for their people. That is why images of the dead Cúchulainn, tied to a pillar in a seemingly deliberate evocation of Jesus on the Cross, adorn the General Post Office on O’Connell Street and Desmond Kinney’s Setanta Wall off Nassau Street in Dublin.

The spelling of personal and place-names in a book of this sort is always problematic. I have generally used the most familiar forms, except in direct quotes. Two of the high kings present a particular dilemma. Diarmait mac Cerbaill was not the real name of the sixth-century high king. His father was Fergus Cerbaill for his twisted mouth – cer-bhéal – but the son, properly Diarmait mac Fergus Cerbaill, inherited the cognomen without the ‘Fergus’. Plummer (Lives of Irish Saints) made the distinction: ‘Diarmait son of Fergus Cerrbel (i.e Wrymouth), whom some call Diarmait son of Cerball, was king of Erin in the time of Ruadan.’

Diarmaid (following the usual spelling) mac Cerbaill was not the real name of the seventh-century high king, either. His father was Áed Sláine, son of Diarmait mac (Fergus) Cerbaill, but, confusingly, Diarmaid is best known by his more illustrious grandfather’s name. In the text I refer to him by his correct name, Diarmaid mac Áed Sláine, to avoid ambiguity.

‘Diarmuid’ is spelled thus when it refers to the character in the saga The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne. The spelling of Angus/Aonghus/Oengus follows the sources.

Sources are credited within the text, dispensing with footnotes. Stories from the National Folklore Collection and the Schools collection at UCD are cited thus: (NFC volume: page) and (NFCS volume: page). A full bibliography is at the back of the book.

1

DUNSHAUGHLIN

Dunshaughlin is blessed with two approved Irish names, neither of which is unanimously accepted. Dún Seachlainn (Seachnall’s Fort) is the one you see on the official sign as you enter the town, but Domhnach Seachnaill (Seachnall’s Church) is preferred locally. Situated as the town is, only a few miles from Tara, it is not surprising that the doings of kings and saints feature prominently in its eventful history.

THE PROPHECIES OF ART, SON OF CONN

Art, son of Conn of the Hundred Battles, was known as Art Aonfer – ‘only son’ – because his only brother, Connla, set sail to the Otherworld and never returned. The famous Cormac mac Airt was the only one of Art’s three sons to survive. Art had fathered the other two by his daughter, and they were killed – whether by Art for shame or by Art’s brothers to prevent their inheriting the crown is not clear – one by drowning in the Boyne and the other by being thrown to a wolf. One of them, Artgen, was an ancestor of St Finbar of Cork.

Art was king of Ireland from AD 166 until he was killed in the Battle of Mag Muccrime in 195. Shortly before the battle, he was hunting alone at Duma Derglúachra, now known as Trevet (tréde fót – ‘three sods’), 3km north of Dunshaughlin. Standing on a hunting mound – probably the earthwork in a field 1km east of Trevet – he saw angels flying up and down. The Holy Spirit infused him and bestowed the gift of prophecy on him, and he saw that he would be killed in the coming battle. He chose Trevet as his burial place, rather than the pagan cemetery at Brú na Bóinne (Newgrange), because he foresaw the coming of Christianity to Ireland and proclaimed his belief in the Holy Trinity. In a long poem, mostly in obscure language, he foretold the arrival of St Patrick.

For those reasons he is considered one of the first three Christians in Ireland. Conor mac Nessa, king of Ulster, was the first, and Art’s son Cormac was the third. Conor was deemed to have received a baptism of blood, because his anger at the news of the Crucifixion expelled a brain ball lodged in his head, causing his death. (A brain ball is a missile made of the calcified brain of a slain warrior with supposed magic power.) Like his father, Cormac refused a pagan burial at the Brú.

The Metrical Dindshenchas (Lore of Place-names) confirms that Art and Cormac are not buried at Brú na Bóinne, though Conn and other kings are:

Bright is it here, O plain of Mac ind Oc!

wide is thy road with traffic of hundreds;

thou hast covered many a true prince

of the race of every king that has possessed thee.

Thou hidest Conn the just, the hundred-fighter.

There came not Art, highest in rank,

round whom rode troops on the battlefield;

he found a grave proud and lofty,

the champion of the heroes, in Luachair Derg.

There came not Cormac free from sorrow:

after receiving the Truth (he affirmed it)

he found repose above limpid Boyne

on the shore at Rossnaree.

On the night before the Battle of Mag Muccrime in Galway, Art stayed in the house of Uilc Acha the smith, where he met Uilc Acha’s daughter, Étaín. Together they made Cormac, who would later become the most celebrated of the high kings. That story is in the twelfth-century Lebor na hUidre (Book of the Dun Cow) under the title ‘Fástini Airt meic Cuind’ (The Prophecies of Art son of Conn). ‘Senchas na Relec’ (History of the Cemeteries), also from the Book of the Dun Cow, adds that when Art’s body was carried to Trevet, ‘if all the men of Erin tried to draw it from there, they could not, so that he was interred in that place because there was a Catholic Church to be afterwards at his burial place because the truth and the Faith had been revealed to him through his regal righteousness.’

Local historian Mickey Kenny took me to Trevet in 2010 to show me Art’s grave next to an old cemetery and the ruins of a church said to be the oldest Christian site in Ireland. The story gives the location of Art’s vision as ‘Duma Derglúachra .i. áit hi fail Treóit indiu – Mound of the Red Rushy Place, that is, the place where Trevet is found today’. The road from Dunshaughlin to Trevet is called the Bog Road. It passes through the townland of Redbog, which can best be described as ‘red rushy’.

ST SEACHNALL (SECUNDINUS)

St Patrick arrived in Ireland in 432 with his nephew St Seachnall (372-447). Seachnall founded a church in Dunshaughlin and was appointed the first bishop of Dunshaughlin in 433. (Some say Seachnall arrived before or after Patrick and that they were not related.) Seachnall wrote several hymns, including one in praise of Patrick, and he transcribed another called ‘Sancti, venite, Christi corpus sumite’ (Come, holy ones, take up the body of Christ) from the singing of angels. Long used as a Communion hymn, it is best known by the title of a popular nineteenth-century English translation, ‘Draw Nigh and Take the Body of the Lord.’ It has been described as ‘that golden fragment of our ancient Irish liturgy’ and is found in a late seventh-century collection called the Antiphonary of Bangor. Its style reveals an earlier origin, lending veracity to this story attached to the hymn, which is related in the Irish Liber Hymnorum (1898).

Patrick heard that Seachnall was telling people, ‘Patrick would be a good man except for one thing: he doesn’t preach enough about charity.’ Patrick was angry at that, and he came to Dunshaughlin to confront Seachnall, who was saying Mass and had just come to the Communion. When he was told that Patrick had arrived in a temper, he left the Host on the altar and went out of the church and bowed down in front of Patrick.

Patrick drove his chariot directly at him, but God raised the ground around Seachnall so that he was not injured.

‘What was that for?’ asked Seachnall.

‘You’ve been saying that I don’t fulfil charity. If I don’t fulfil charity I am in violation of God’s commandment. But God knows that it is for charity that I don’t preach it, because there will come after me to this island sons of life who will need to be supported by wealthy men. If I preach charity to these wealthy men now, they won’t have anything left to give to those who come after me.’

‘I didn’t realise that you were not being remiss,’ said Seachnall.

They made peace between them, and as they were going into the church they heard angels singing around the Host on the altar. What they were singing was the hymn beginning ‘Sancti, venite, Christi corpus sumite’.

It was partly to make it up to Patrick that Seachnall wrote a hymn about him. One day, he said to Patrick, ‘When shall I write a hymn in your honour?’ Patrick said, ‘You don’t have to do that. And besides, you don’t praise the day until after the sun sets.’

It was unheard of to write a work of praise for a living person.

Seachnall said, ‘I didn’t say if, I said when, because I’m going to do it anyway.’

It suddenly occurred to Patrick that Seachnall didn’t have long to live, and he said, ‘By God, you’d better write it now.’

So Seachnall wrote the ‘Hymn of St Secundinus’, and when he finished it he wanted Patrick’s opinion, but he didn’t want Patrick to know that he was the subject. They met along the Northern Road, the Slíge Midluachra, and Seachnall said, ‘I’ve written a hymn of praise for a certain man of God, and I’d like you to hear it.’

‘Praise of the people of God is always welcome,’ said Patrick. Seachnall started with the second stanza, ‘Beata Christi custodit mandata in omnibus’ (he keeps Christ’s holy commandments in all things) because the first stanza has Patrick’s name in it. The hymn begins with ‘Audite, omnes amantes Deum’ (Listen, all lovers of God) and each following stanza starts with the succeeding letter of the alphabet: ‘Constans … Dominus … Electa …’

When he reached ‘Maximus namque in regno coelorum vocabitur’ (for he will be called the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven) Patrick stopped him and asked, ‘How can you describe a man as “greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven”?’

‘It doesn’t mean that he is the greatest in Heaven. It means that in Heaven he will be called greatest, because he is the greatest among the men of his race here on earth, and he will be so recognised in Heaven.’

When Seachnall reached the final stanza – ‘May we always sing Patrick’s praises’ – Patrick thanked him for the tribute. Seachnall asked him for a poet’s fee.

‘As many sinners as there are hairs in your cloak,’ said Patrick, ‘shall go to Heaven for singing the hymn.’

‘That’s not enough,’ said Seachnall.

‘Then I’ll give you this: everyone who recites it going to sleep and waking up will go to Heaven.’

‘But the hymn is long. Not everyone will be able to commit it to memory.’

‘The virtue of the hymn,’ said Patrick, ‘is in the last section. Whosoever of the men of Ireland shall recite the three last stanzas, or the three last lines, or the three last words, just before death, with a pure mind, his soul will be saved.’

‘Thanks be to God,’ Seachnall said.

St Colman Ela, one of the three great Colmans of Meath, founded a monastery in County Offaly. One day, he recited ‘Audite, omnes’ three times in a row in his dining hall in the presence of St Patrick. A man standing nearby complained at the choice and said, ‘Have we no other prayer that we could recite except this?’ Patrick took this as a personal affront and stalked out of the room in anger.

A century later, Cainnech (St Canice of Kilkenny) was in a boat on the sea when he saw a black cloud of devils flying overhead.

‘Stop here on your way back,’ he called to them. On their return they reported that they had gone to collect the soul of a certain wealthy man.

‘He sang two or three stanzas of Audite, omnes, and we thought it sounded more like a satire than a hymn of praise, but it defeated us.’

LOUGH GABHAIR (LAGORE)

According to the Annals of the Four Masters, Lough Gabhair, the now-dried up lake in the townland of Lagore just outside Dunshaughlin, was formed in 1513 BC.

The Rennes Dindshenchas tells how Lough Gabhair got its name. Eochaid Cind Mairc (Horsehead), king of Munster, sent two white mares to Enna Aignech, king of Tara, as tribute, but they were drowned in the lake when a stallion chased them, hence ‘Loch Gabar’ (Lake of Steeds). (Gabar/gabor can also mean ‘goat’.)

Blathmac, son of Áed Sláine, was king of Brega, part of Meath, before he and his brother Diarmaid shared the kingship of Ireland from 657 to 664. Blathmac’s royal seat was a newly built crannóg (a manmade defensive island residence) in Lough Gabhair, one of the largest – 520ft in circumference – and richest crannógs in Ireland.

In 647 or 651, the Leinster champion Maelodrán killed Blathmac’s two sons at a watermill in County Westmeath. (See chapter 10 for St Ultán’s epitaph on the boys.) Blathmac threatened the Leinstermen with invasion unless they gave up Maelodrán to him, but Maelodrán told his people not to worry, because he was going to surrender to Blathmac.

He didn’t surrender. Instead, he went to Lough Gabhair at night, took a boat across to the crannóg, and waited outside Blathmac’s house. Eventually, Blathmac came out to ‘bend his knees’, as a twelfth-century manuscript delicately puts it, or to ‘sit by himself’, as another blushingly hints. In the darkness, and probably half-asleep and half-drunk, Blathmac could barely make out the form of Maelodrán and mistook him for one of his guards.

‘You there! Hold my sword,’ the king commanded.

Maelodrán did so. When Blathmac had finished relieving himself, he ordered Maelodrán to hand him something to wipe his bottom. Maelodrán gave him a bunch of stinging nettles.

‘Ow. I’m burned, I’m wounded. That was no friend who did that. Who are you?’

‘I’m Maelodrán, who is just after killing your two sons. And now …’, he held Blathmac’s own sword to his throat, ‘… I have you in my power.’

‘That’s true. Can we go into the house and talk about this?’

The upshot was that Blathmac gave Maelodrán a horse, a suit of clothes, a brooch, and free passage back to Leinster, and thereafter they fought together against their common enemies.

The Annals of the Four Masters report that in 848 Cinaedh, king of North Brega, rebelled against the high king, Maelseachlainn, and plundered Lough Gabhair and burned it ‘so that it was level with the ground’. Then he burned the oratory of Trevet, ‘within which were three score and two hundred persons’. The following year, Maelseachlainn and Tigernach, king of Lough Gabhair and South Brega, drowned Cinaedh in the River Nanny (described as ‘a dirty streamlet’) in revenge.

A NEW HEROINE

Marvel Comics super-heroine Shamrock – real name Molly Fitzgerald – was born in Dunshaughlin, date unknown, and made her first public appearance in Marvel’s Contest of Champions #1 in June 1982. She is costumed in two-tone green with shamrocks, and her super-power is a protective aura that causes ‘random improbabilities’ to protect her when she is in trouble: in other words, she embodies the luck of the Irish. She’s retired now and works as a hair stylist. Folklorists of the future will undoubtedly include her in their dictionaries.

2

SLANE

The twelfth-century Dindshenchas (Lore of Place-names), compiled from earlier sources, gives us several choices for the derivation of the name of Slane:

Rudraige and 150 men were chasing a wild boar at the Hill of Slane. The boar killed fifty hunters and broke Rudraige’s spears. His son, Rossa, came to his rescue and turned the boar away without his spears being broken. As a result, the name of Sliabh Slan-ga (the Hill of the Whole Spear) was given to the hill.

Or, Slanga, son of Partholon, was buried there. Slanga was the first healer in Ireland, and the Irish word for ‘health’ is slán. Low mounds near the college on the hill are believed to be the grave of Partholonians killed in a plague.

Or, Slaine, Leinster king of the Fir Bolg, was buried there.

St Patrick gave Slane its main claim to fame. It is generally agreed that he was appointed bishop by the Pope and arrived in Ireland in AD 432. In Wicklow they say he landed at Arklow or Wicklow Town, but the people threw stones at him and he left. He came up the coast and stopped at Swords, looking for fish. He found none and went to St Patrick’s Island off Skerries and then on to the mouth of the Nanny at Laytown, where again he found nothing. He cursed all three places, and so they are said to be unfruitful.

He arrived at Drogheda in 433 and made his way up the Boyne. Having served many years as a slave, Patrick was able to speak Irish and knew the customs of the land. He was aware that all fires had to be extinguished on the eve of the First of May and that the druids would light a fire in front of the king on the Hill of Tara to celebrate the first day of summer. (As late as the nineteenth century, farmers were reluctant to light fires early on May Day, for fear that something bad would happen to their cattle.) So Patrick lit a bonfire on the Hill of Slane to attract attention, knowing that it would be visible from Tara 10 miles (16km) away.

King Laoghaire saw the fire, which illuminated all of Meath. His druids told him that if the fire was not quenched that night, the person who had lit it would have the kingdom of Ireland forever. Laoghaire led his warriors to Slane, but they didn’t arrive until daylight. The druids said to Laoghaire, ‘Don’t go to him, lest it seem that you are paying him honour. Make him come to you, but let none of your people show him respect.’

When Patrick saw them with their horses and chariots, he sang a verse from the Book of Psalms (19:8): ‘Some trust in chariots, and some in horses, but we will call upon the name of the Lord our God.’ One of Laoghaire’s druids, Erc, stood to show respect and later converted. When Patrick founded the church on the Hill of Slane, he made Erc the bishop. His grave is still to be seen in the graveyard: it’s the one with two rough triangular stones at either end.

Another druid, Lochru, insulted the Christian faith, and Patrick prayed, ‘Let this impious one, who is blaspheming Thy name, be destroyed.’

Demons raised the druid in the air and dropped him so that his head struck a stone, and he was turned into ashes.

Laoghaire ordered his men to attack Patrick, and Patrick quoted Psalm 67:2: ‘May God arise, and may his enemies be scattered.’

Immediately darkness came over the sun. The earth shook, and thunder rumbled overhead. The horses panicked and ran, and the chariots were scattered as far as Slíab Moduirn, south of Castleblayney in Monaghan, over 30 miles away. The warriors began fighting one another, and fifty were killed as a result of Patrick’s curse. Only three were left with Patrick on the hill: Laoghaire, his queen, whose name was Angass, and a serving man of the king.

Angass said, ‘O just and mighty man, don’t kill the king. He will submit to you and do what you wish.’

Laoghaire knelt before Patrick and pretended to accept the Faith. Then he took Patrick aside and said, ‘Follow me to Tara, so that I can profess my belief before the men of Ireland.’

He instructed his people to set ambushes for Patrick and his eight followers between Slane and Tara, but Patrick suspected a trap. He blessed his followers and a cloak of invisibility covered them. It was on this occasion that he made the popular prayer called ‘The Deer’s Cry’ or ‘The Lorica (Breastplate) of St Patrick’, which is best known for the verse that begins ‘Christ with me, Christ before me …’ All the would-be ambushers saw was a group of eight wild deer, with a fawn – Patrick’s favourite disciple, young Benen (Benignus) – bringing up the rear. When they arrived at Tara, Laoghaire invited Patrick to a meal. A druid named Lucatmael poured poison into Patrick’s cup of ale, but Patrick noticed it. He blessed the cup and turned it upside down, and the poison flowed out, leaving the ale, which Patrick drank.

Lucatmael then challenged Patrick: ‘Let’s work wonders together to see which of us is the stronger.’

‘So be it,’ said Patrick.

Lucatmael caused snow to cover the plain to the height of a man’s shoulders.

‘Now let’s see you take it away,’ said Patrick.

‘I can’t take it away until this time tomorrow.’

‘By God, I can.’

Patrick blessed the plain, and the snow disappeared without the help of sun or rain. Then Lucatmael brought darkness over the plain, so heavy it could be felt.

‘Now take away the darkness, if you can,’ Patrick said.

‘I can’t do that until this time tomorrow.’

Patrick blessed the plain, and the sun dispelled the darkness.

Laoghaire suggested a trial by fire: Benen to be placed in the part of a hut made of dry timber wearing Lucatmael’s cloak, and Lucatmael to be placed in the part of the same hut made of green wood wearing Patrick’s cloak. The fire was lit. The green-wood part and Lucatmael were incinerated, but Patrick’s cloak was not burned, and the dry-wood part and Benen were not touched by the flames, but Lucatmael’s cloak was destroyed.

Everyone present professed belief in the Christian god and was baptised, except Laoghaire. He again pretended that he believed, but Patrick knew he wasn’t sincere, and he foretold that no son of Laoghaire would be king. The queen, Angass, asked Patrick not to curse the child who was then in her womb, Lugaid. Patrick said he would hold off the curse until Lugaid opposed him.