Tales of the Tinker No.6. The story of Tirlogh 'Caoch' and the House of MacSweeney Fanad.

An Ocean as vast as the Atlantic has many different characteristics and weather patterns to behold. On one day it could be fine and breezy, the next a full gale blowing and horizontal sheets of rain which seem able to slice right through the skin. Whereas yesterday had been cold and windy, though mostly dry and the wind had been from the east, today was once again bright and sunny, though with a stiff breeze which now came from the south-west. The fishermen were once again down on the strand, mending their nets, and MacRory the elder was eyeing the horizon, thinking to himself that rain was surely on its way. The barometer in the boathouse had stopped working several months back and now the only sure way of forecasting the weather was the seaweed hung up by Mrs. Dunleavy, who had kept the place neat and tidy as long as anyone could remember. The boathouse was exactly sixty three feet from the shore at high tide. At low tide the distance almost doubled, although it was neither high nor low as Mrs. Dunleavy dropped by that day, as was her habit, to refill the tin of biscuits and leave a fresh pint of milk. After that little job she was due at Moireen's Hairdressers at a quarter past one for her monthly appointment. Moireen's was almost halfway up Market Street, opposite the taylor's shop, where her sister Maeve had once worked as a seamstress. That was before she had married a cabinet maker and moved south to Munster. 

O'Donovan had spent the morning down by the Lackagh River, surveying the road from the bridge up to the main Strabane road. His new hobnailed boots were giving his feet blisters, and a particularly bad one on the heel of his right foot was starting to hurt. He thought of complaining about his feet but remained silent, thinking only of the coming weekend, when he would go back into Donegal, to the shop he had bought the boots in and would see the beautiful shop-girl again. Each time he thought of her and tried to imagine her face she seemed to change her appearance and it suddenly dawned on him that he couldn't actually picture her face or remember exactly what she looked like anymore.

The surveyors began packing up their gear at a quarter to five and then made their way back towards the strand and O' Donoghue's pub, where the chieftain was already waiting at his table, the pair of pints set up, as per usual. 

The following is what O'Donovan wrote a little later that evening, under candlelight:

"Of the children of Maolmhuire, son of Murchadh Og, here now: namely, Conchubhar was his eldest son. It was he who defeated the English and the Scots at Bun Putoige. He himself was slain without the knowledge of his people in that battle, and sixteen men of his followers along with him. In that battle also his brother, Toirrdhealbhach 'Caoch' (Tirlogh the One-eyed) had an eye knocked out by a shot of an arrow. And Eoin and Murchadh were his two other sons. Toirrdhealbhach Caoch was inaugurated in the place of his father, and it was this Toirrdhealbhach and the descendants of Seán O'Domhnaill, and Eoghan son of Donnchadh Mór [MacSweeney na dTuath], who defeated Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona (Tirlogh of the Wine) O' Domhnaill in the battle of Sliabh Malair. It was they who plundered Seanghleann Choluim Chille in spite of Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona. Neither Seán's descendants nor Eoghan, son of Donnchadh Mór restored the preys to the termon, and it is said it was there they themselves perished. But thereafter MacSweeney Fanad made an offering of the quarter of Tullynadall to Columcille in restitution for the violation of that termon, and he performed many other great deeds which are not enumerated here.

On one occasion the descendants of Seán O' Domhnaill and MacSweeney set out by sea for Derry, and they left Toirrdhealbhach Ruadh, MacSweeney's son, in camp at Dunkineely as a guard over their creaght. Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona fell upon the creaght, carrying away great spoils out of it; whereupon Toirrdhealbhach Ruadh and his people set out in pursuit of them. O' Domhnaill tumed to face his pursuers, defeated and routed them, and there captured MacSweeney's son. He was brought in custody to Murbhach, and Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona greatly extended his power to the east of the mountain [Bearnas Mór] after his capture. 

Once, when Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona and MacSweeney's son were carousing in Murbhach, they chanced to have a dispute, and Toirrdhealbhach Ruadh said that if he himself were at liberty, the other would not be so powerful as he was. Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona became exceedingly angry thereat, and declared that he would set the prisoner free, that what he had said might be put to the test. He removed his fetters then. And O' Domhnaill's people began to reproach him, for they feared that that which MacSweeney's son had said might become true. But Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona gave orders to him to set out for his own country, to which Toirrdhealbhach answered that he would not depart without getting the King's dress for himself, and his followers for a body-guard; otherwise that he would go away furtively. 

His demands were granted in full. He departed then, and coming to his father and his own people, he narrated all the proceedings to them from beginning to end. When MacSweeney heard them, through gladness he summoned his whole force and following, and then came towards Murbhach to meet Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona. And as they approached the house, a certain person came to where        O' Domhnaill was, and told him that there was a goodly host coming to him to his house. O' Domhnaill recognised them and said they were the Clann MacSweeney coming to visit himself; and on their coming to him he showed great joy. After they had spent a night in the house they received great presents for undertaking that journey. The presents were: One hundred cows and O' Domhnaill's own raiment. But MacSweeney bestowed them on his own foster-father, Maolmithigh O' Herrill. O' Domhnaill asked of those who brought the presents was MacSweeney grateful, and they answered that they did not observe that he was. After that he bestowed on them six scores of axes of hiannacht hona [that is, axe-men to be maintained] out of Tír Conaill itself, a gift in perpetuity from himself and his posterity after him; the making of a circuit of Tír Conaill once in the year; the spending of three nights in each house in Tír Conaill; the fishing of the Erne every Friday between Patrick's Day and the Feast of the Cross in Harvest, if they should happen to be encamped by the Eme to oppose the men of Connacht; two ballybetaghs of Tír Mic Caorthainn which are now called 'the Braid of Fanad'; and to sit by the right side of O'Domhnaill whenever MacSweeney would visit him. Toirrdhealbhach an Fhíona then asked the same messengers was MacSweeney grateful, but they said that they did not observe that he was. He next ordered them to bring a champion hound of his own to MacSweeney, and to ask him was therein the house any thing which he liked or desired. And MacSweeney thanked him much when he saw the hound, but for nothing of all that he had until then received. And he declared there was one thing in the house he would wish to get, namely, that he should have as a foster-son Niall O' Domhnaill who was a youth in the house at that time.             O' Domhnaill replied that he would have him, and that he was glad that MacSweeney had asked his son, and that, had he known that he would accept him, that foster-son was the first thing he would have offered him. And thereupon MacSweeney took Niall O' Domhnaill as a loving foster-child. 

And it was then that a levy of galloglases was made on Clann MacSweeney, and this is how the levy was made: two galloglases for each quarter of land, and two cows for each galloglas deficient, that is, one cow for the man himself and one for his equipment. And Clann MacSweeney say they are responsible for these as follows, that for each man equipped with a coat of mail and a breastplate, another should have a jack and a helmet; that there should be no forfeit for a helmet deficient except the galloglas's brain [dashed out for want of it]; and no Fine for a missing axe except a shilling, nor for a spear, except a groat, which shilling and groat the Constable [captain] should get, and O' Domhnaill had no claim to make for either. And previous to this arrangement no lord had a claim on them for a rising-out or a hosting, but they might serve whomsoever they wished. It was the Scottish habit [of military service] they had observed until that time, namely, each man according as he was employed.

On a certain day that this Toirrdhealbhach we are speaking of was in his own house his servant offered him dinner. And, having looked about him in all the house, he considered that all those who were in the house were too few, and he said:"May this cheek be not mine own if it move in the absence of an hundred more, on which a beard groweth, moving contemporaneously therewith." 

On another occasion he was in Gola Island in Fanad. His cupbearer at that time was Mac Colín, and it was long since ships or traders had come to them. Nevertheless their wines had not diminished, and Mac Sweeney wondered that he had his wine as usual, though there was a scarcity in all the country. And he asked of Mac Coilín:"Where dost thou get as usual this wine which thou givest us?" Mac Coilín did not wish that that question should be asked him, but still he was obliged to answer how he got the wine. And he replied that it was a creature on the island called Plenty that was in the habit of coming to the wine. When MacSweeney heard that, he gave Mac Coilín a blow of his íist, and said: "Thou churl, why hast thou offered us wine from an animal?" Thereupon Mac Coilín became much enraged, and he left MacSweeney and came to O Domhnaill. And he and his descendants after him have remained with Clann Dálaigh from that time until now. These were the standing retinue in the house of Toirrdhealbhach Caoch, namely, one hundred and fifty. And in three portions that retinue of Toirrdhealbhach was, that is fifty in each, besides wives and womenfolk, and no portion of these could claim supremacy or submission of any other portion. Besides these there were the musicians, and the poets, and the inferior servants. A man of great knowledge, very violent, and very generous, was this Toirrdhealbhach, and this is the manner in which he died, after having spent forty-one years in the lordship of his territory. Once he was engaged on that circuit of Tír Conaill which O' Domhnaill had granted to Clann MacSweeney, and he chanced to be in Inbhear Naaile. A great sickness came upon him in that place, and he died thereof. And his body was then brought to Derry to be buried.  And that is the story of Toirrdhealbhach Caoch so far."

The Chief then stood up and replaced his cap, turned to leave and then said "If you're here tomorrow I'll tell you the story of Tirlogh Ruad and of the seven victories he won against the English".

The regulars called out as usual.

"Good evening to you, MacSweeney."

"A fine fellow."

"There he goes."

"Top man."

The door closed and the Chief disappeared into the cold night.

Tales of the Tinker No.5. The Tale of The Poet's Prophecy.

By Tuesday the weather had turned cold again, with the prevailing wind now coming from the north-east. The surveying of the strand was now completed and O' Donovan and his colleague had moved on to the corner of Market Street, which ran east to west, from the Lackagh Bridge down to the corner of Neill Street, opposite the post office and the strand itself, and was two hundred and twenty nine yards in length, from end to end. O'Docherty's Butchers stood at one end of Market street and at the other, Edmund MacCarthy's Ironmongery shop. There was also a small bakers shop run by the Keating sisters and a ship's chandlers which had a bright yellow painted facade and a large white anchor outside the front door. 

Mrs. O'Toole was entering O'Docherty's at the same moment Mrs. MacGinley was leaving and the two stopped briefly on the doorstep to exchange greetings and news of the recent events of the day, which mainly concerned the cold weather that had caused them both to put on their new woollen coats.

O'Donovan wished he had worn another layer and thought about returning to Donegal in the hope of seeing the girl in the shoe shop, racking his brain for reasons he could give for why he was returning there. Hadn't she given him that beautifully warm smile as she helped him get the stiff boots on, unlacing them for him and helping him with the shoe-horn? Perhaps she smiled that way at all of the customers and he was mistaken. He was sure he had caught a certain 'look' in her sparkling blue eyes when he had thanked her for her help and turned to leave.  Perhaps she was courting some other lucky fellow and he had merely imagined the warmth in her smile, and the journey back to Donegal would be for no reason. But he knew he would have to go back. He would risk the embarrassment to see her again and came up with the lamest of excuses as to his reason for returning; he would tell her he needed a new pair of laces as the ones that came with the boots had snapped. As soon as he'd thought of it he rejected it as a foolish excuse. After some minutes of hard thought he finally decided on telling her he needed dubbing, to soften the hard leather and make the boots more comfortable. Then he could casually ask her if she was busy that evening, and when she told him she was not he would invite her to the pictures. That was the plan he hatched for the weekend and he was happy with it, despite the nagging doubt that she might think it odd they didn't have dubbing in Dunfanaghy.

O'Donoghue's was heaving when O'Donovan entered that afternoon, and the chief was already there in his usual place, the extra pint of porter set up again on the table with an empty chair set opposite him. O'Donovan approached and the old Chief gestured for him to sit with a barely perceptible nod of the head.  The following is all that O'Donovan could remember of the story the Chief told that evening, despite going immediately back to his room afterwards to write it down:

Now conceming Maolmhuire, son of Murchadh Og, son of Murchadh Mear, and his descendants after him here: it was this Maolmhuire who, with Aonghus 'na Tuaighe' (of the Axe) O'Domhnaill, inflicted the defeat of Aghawoney on Niall Garbh O' Domhnaill. In that battle O' Conwell was slain, and his family has remained in obscurity ever since. And it was this Maolmhuire who, having come to Niall Garbh, son of Aodh, son of Domhnall Og O' Domhnaill, out of the attack on the house of Finros, obtained the two ballys of Moross because of a promise to bury him thereafter. And it was this Maolmhuire who took from the O' Tirchirts Ray and Glenalla as an eric for Toirrdhealbhach of Béal Atha Daire, because no eric had been obtained for him up to that time. 

At one time this Maolmhuire was in Fanad, and he set out on a certain day to hunt. A number of poets were sent to him with their compositions, and he sat down to hear them on the bank of a certain lake in Fanad. They commenced to chant and recite for him, and then demanded their fee. MacSweeney asked what kind of fee they wished for, and they replied that they would accept no payment except of gold, and no drink except of wine, and no light except of wax. MacSweeney answered that, if they came with him to his house, they would receive whatever he would be able to procure them. But they said they would not go, and that, unless they there obtained what they had demanded, they would subject him to satire. And he replied that he had not in that place what they demanded. 

"We see with you here," said they, "a gold ring; give it to us, and we shall not lay blame on you for whatever else you have not." Now this gold ring was an heir-loom with successive generations of the MacSweeneys, and it had in it a precious stone, which whosoever possessed was never beaten in battle or in combat. And Maolmhuire stretched forth his hand to them that they might take off the ring. They took his hand, but they were unable to remove the ring. Then they said that if he thought that they could, that he would not have offered it to them. And he himself said he would take off the ring from his hand, but he was unable to do that, and was much ashamed for that reason. Whereupon he produced a sharp, blue-bladed knife which he had, and, striking his finger, cut it off and threw it, together with the ring, into the bosom of the chief of the poets. But as soon as the finger was accepted from Maolmhuire, his people set about slayng the poets. It was then that the chief poet made this verse:

 

O Maolmhuire MacSweeney, 

be my company on thy protection, 

whether they be pleasing or not, 

provide them, protect and save them.

 

"That is a fair present, MacSweeney," said he, "for no favour was ever granted of which that will not be the equal; and I will bestow on you something in retum therefor. For, since I know not the time thou shalt die, I will let you know the place of thy death." 

"Where is that ?" said Maolmhuire. 

"In Leithghleann." said he.

"In what place is that Leithghleann?" said Maolmhuire. 

"Avoid," said the poet, "every Leithghleann in Ireland, for I will not specify to you one rather than another." Then the chief poet asked "Are these coming from the west of your people?" And Maolmhuire looked around to see those whom the poet mentioned. He saw no one, and neither did he see the poets when he turned back. And they say it is into the lake which was before them they went. But Maolmhuire afterwards found both his finger and the ring upon his hand just as at first they had been. And Loch na Ghar, ever since that, has been the name of the lake in confirmation of this story. 

It was the household of this Maolmhuire who used to lay eight scores of swords having hilts ornamented with gold and silver on the altar of the church of Cluain Dabhuadhóg (Clondavaddog) every Sunday. Once, when he was near the end of his life, on Easter Sunday precisely, as he was coming from Mass at Cluain Dabhuadhóg, the learned say that in twelve scores of dog-skins books and musical instruments were carried behind him. And he rested on the hither side of Ballymagahy, and asked of all there what was the name of the place where he was. One answered that it was called Leithghleann. Maolmhuire then knew that his career had come to an end, according to the prophecy which the poets just spoken of had made to him, namely, that he would die in Leithghleann. And he said that he had avoided every place in Ireland named Leithghleann until that time, and that he had never known before that there was a Leithghleann in his own bally. He then took leave of his wife, the daughter of O' Docherty, and of his son Toirrdhealbhach Caoch, to whom he gave order to remunerate the poets well, and as to his death to maintain secrecy with them until they would have left the place. 

And when the poets were paid and they had taken their departure on Easter Tuesday from a great eminence over the place they heard the loud cries of those who were keening MacSweeney. Whereupon some of their bards came back to the house to leam the cause, and only then they heard that on Easter Sunday he had died. The poets, when they leamed this, wondered greatly at the endurance of the household in not manifesting grief for MacSweeney, and they said they did not gather from defect in attendance on them or in their remuneration that he had ceased to be among them. They confessed that no deed had ever been done greater than the keeping of that secret, and then went away, having said much in praise of them. Of Maolmhuire, son of Murchadh Og, son of Murchadh Mear, so far. 

Tales of the Tinker No.4. The trials and tribulations of Murchadh Mear 'The Crazy'

The weekend had been quiet and O'Donovan had used it to write up his journal, transcribing all the various notes he had taken over the last few weeks and placing them under the heading of 'People and Places of Co.Donegal'. He had also, on the Saturday morning, taken the opportunity of a trip into Donegal itself, where he had bought himself a brand new pair of hob-nailed boots, made in Belfast and of the type favoured by the ship-builders there.

The boots were stiff and uncomfortable, as new boots always are, and would take some wearing-in. O'Donovan was thinking about this and the pretty shop assistant with the dark hair and bright blue eyes who had helped him as he tried the boots on in the shoe shop as he held the measuring stick steady, closing his eyes as he tried to remember the girl's face and feeling the sun bright and warm on his face. 

The scene on Dunfanaghy strand on that Monday morning was a peaceful one, with the fishing boats out to sea. One or two of them visible on the horizon, tiny charcoal spots floating a mile or two off the head.

The survey had now moved on to the southern quarter of the strand, were there were fewer houses and the view along the coast to the west was uninterrupted. From here he could make out Sheephaven Bay, on the other side of the head. It was along the road from this direction that he saw the chief and his family, making their way from house to house, collecting knives and other implements for sharpening, as well as the odd pot or pan that needed fixing.

It was more or less an hour by the time the chief and his family had made his way down to the strand and a quick touch of the brim of his cap was his greeting to O'Donovan.

O'Donovan thought of what the chief had said on that last Friday night, after he'd finished telling him the tale of the Yellow Night, and how he'd said he would next tell him the story of Murchadh, who was apparently crazy, or so he thought he remembered.

It was almost five in the afternoon by the time the two men had finished their surveying for the day and had packed up the gear. O'Donoghue's pub was only two hundred yards away from the spot they had last measured from, give or take a foot or two, and so O'Donovan was stood by the bar, talking to the drummer when the chief entered, shortly after a quarter past. O'Donovan attempted to pay for an extra pint of porter but Seamus O'Donoghue refused the money, saying 'the chief drinks free here, son.'

The chief took his place at the same table as usual and O'Donovan joined him with the pair of pints. Slowly, the chief took off his cap, took a swig of his pint and then began to tell the story of the trials and tribulations of Murchadh Mear, 'The Crazy', of which the following details were written down by O'Donovan within hours of the old chief telling it:

On the death of Eoin MacSween, who as you may recall, was also known as the 'Yellow Knight', his son, Sween mac Eoin assumed the lordship of the country in spite of Toirrdhealbhach, although Toirrdhealbhach was older than Sween. And by violence he deprived his senior kinsman of the chieftaincy. His people besought Toirrdhealbhach to slay Sween for his usurpation, but the answer Toirrdhealbhach made was that he would allow God to deal with him till the end of a year, and if for God he would not cease before that, that he himself would then attack him. And when God observed his humility and patience, He caused Sween to die within the year. And Eoin, or his son Sween, hadnot issue, except only Catherine, daughter of Eoin, she who was mother of Aodh [O Domhnaill], the son of Domhnall Og. 

Toirrdhealbhach next assumed the chieftain-ship, and after having held it for a long time, he set out with a small company to Fearsat Mhór to make claim on O' Domhnaill and O' Docharty for violation of his surety. And the host on the other side, observing the fewness of Mac Sweeney's followers, attacked him. There was with Toirrdhealbhach a certain champion named Radharc- breaghach, who had forty-eight arrows in his quiver, and with each arrow of these he slew either a horse or a man. In the end he was slain himself. It was announced to Mac Sweeney that they had lost Radharc-breaghach, and when he heard that, he said "If he has been lost to us, we have lost our sight and our hearing." 

With difficulty then they made their way to Béal Atha Daire. There they were overtaken, and Mac Sweeney was slain, and they say it was old age and inabihty to walk that was the cause of his slaying. Ever since that day he has been known as Toirrdhealbhach of Béal Atha Daire. And his followers escaped with difficulty, and entered their ships at Leac an Bhacáin in Fanad. 

The only posterity of Toirrdhealbhach of which there is record was Eoin Mac Sweeney, namely, a son of Toirrdhealbhach's son. By Toirrdhealbhach he was named Mac Dunnsléibhe. It was he who sent to Roscommon the famous food that ye have heard of. 

Now as for that following of Mac Sweeney, when they had lost their chieftain, they proceeded to Scotland to Castle Sween, where Murchadh Mear Mac Sweeney, that is, 'Murchadh the Crazy,' was, and his son Murchadh Og ' Murchadh the Younger.' To Murchadh Mear they made complaint that his kinsmen and his people had been slain by the men of Tír Chonaill, and that the King had proclaimed that they should go into exile. When Murchadh Mear heard their complaint, anger and rage filled him, and he set out to make a claim on the King for banishing his relatives and kinsfolk. Then there arose dispute and war between them, so that the King of Scotland collected great, numerous hosts, and immense, select troops, and the noblemen of his family, and his great household, and it was proclaimed by him that Murchadh Mear should accept battle, or depart out of Scotland. When Murchadh Mear heard that, he gathered all his followers in Scotland, and each assailed the other swiftly and stoutly,and with fierceness and violence. Then on bones there was many a sword's rattle, and many a crash of maimed limbs, and bodies wounded, and eyes left sightless. Mothers were bereft of sons, and wives of husbands, and on either side it were impossible to describe or enumerate the slain. 

Sruibhshhabh in Scotland is the name of the place where that battle was fought, and it was there that Murchadh Mear captured the holy, noble, beautiful cross which Clann MacSweeney preserved generation after generation. It was the holy cross of the Battle of Srnibhshiiabh, and they say it was all of gold. It was burned in the church of Cluain Dabhuadhóg  'Clondavaddog,' together with many other precious articles not here mentioned, on one occasion when the church was burned. 

As for the opposing armies just described, they continued to destroy and slaughter each other, and the erid of the engagement was that the King of Scotland was defeated, and his people slain in great numbers. And that, so far, is the Battle of Sruibhshliabh. 

As for Murchadh Mear, after the battle of Sruibhshliabh he proposed setting out to avenge his brethren and kinsfolk in Ireland. He collected a great splendid fleet, and he and his followers launched their immense capacious ships, and their long surpassing swift galleys, and their beautiful easily managed boats, on the surface of the expansive deep, and on the high storm-swept sea, and on the blue-horizoned limitless abyss. They rowed with might and main, and they rested not until they reached the calm beautiful haven of Swilly. They sent out scouting parties in all the districts on every side of them, and they slew their kings and princes and lords, so that their nobles all perished, and their hostages were taken by Murchadh Mear and his son, Murchadh Og. These were the territories first conquered by Murchadh Mear in Ireland, namely, the middle third of Inis Eoghain, and Fanad, and Ross Gull, and O Maolgaoithe's tuath, and the two tuaths of Tír Baghuine. 

And on these lands he distributed his family and his people, and they have occupied ever since all that conquest, save only the middle third of Inis Eoghain. 

Some time after Murchadh Mear had made that conquest, his wildness and enthusiasm drove him to think of going in search of the Fortunate Island, for he had heard some account of its wonders. He set out in quest of it, leaving all his countries to his family, namely, from the mountain [of Bearnas Mór] eastward to his son Murchad Og, and the two tuaths of Tír Baghuine to the son of his son, that is, Dubhghall, son of Maolmhuire, son of Murchadh Mear. The descendants of Dubhghall have been in that territory from that to the present time. To his son and his people he gave command that they should proclaim no lord until the end of a year, and if he himself did not retum in that space of time, that they should make his son Murchadh Og lord. 

He did not come back within the year, and since he did not retum, they inaugurated Murchadh Og, as Murchadh Mear had ordered. Concerning Murchadh Mear, he set out with one ship's crew to search for the Fortunate Island, and on that expedition there befell him many terrible and strange things. One day as they were traversing the sea they came upon a sandbank in mid-ocean. They landed there, and kindling a fire on the sandbank, they were partaking by the fire's side of whatever they had collected thereon, and Murchadh, having got up to explore the place, beheld the eyes of a monster and the semblance of his entire head. And when he came to where his people were, he ordered them into their ship, not telling them what he had seen till they had gone a long distance away from the sandbank. 

Then they observed the sandbank submerging in the sea, and their ship was almost engulfed by the huge disturbance it set upon the water as it went down. And they say that that which was there was one half of the ocean swollen to excessive size. 

From there they proceeded till they came near the Fortunate Island, and they observed many strange, immense monsters in the place, and huge, indescribable flocks of sheep. There was one great flock which was bigger than all the rest. As they came close to the island,' all the sheep came near to look at them, and took their position on an immense cliff which was over the spot where the ship lay. And one of the sheep, a great, big, fine ram, jumped with a swift, violent bound, and alighted in the middle of the ship. The men who were with Murchadh caught him, and it was a task of difficulty for them all to tie him down. 

The horn of that ram was on the altar of Gleann Eile 'Glanely,' and it was able to hold three glasses of wine or water. In the opposite end of the island thev saw a huge beast which they thought was a whale. And another small one of the shape of a little pig they observed pushing the large creature with its snout, and driving it before itself along the strand. 

Against the advice of his people Murchadh landed on the island, and came to the place where the little animal was. He struck it three times with his sword, but failed to draw blood. And the animal took no heed of him except to look at him when he gave the last blow, and Murchadh never before experienced a marvel, or a trouble, or a difficulty so horrible and so terrifying as the look which that beast gave. 

Thereupon he left the island, having seen many other strange sights, and in the end they retumed to Ireland after the long period they spent on that expedition. To Murchadh his chieftainship was offered again, but he refused to accept it, saying that he would never depose his son, and that he would retum to his native country to Scotland. And, bidding farewell to his son and to all his people, he then set forth and went to Scotland, whence he never since retumed. That, so far, is the story of Murchadh Mear. 

The music had stopped when the old chief stood up again, replacing the tweed cap on that fine head of his. Turning to the door, he stopped briefly and said "If you're here tomorrow I'll tell you the story of Murchadh Mear's sons and of Tirlogh 'The One-Eyed' and how it was they came to be Lords of Fanad". 

O' Donovan watched the chief as he walked out of the pub, the regulars all calling out their good wishes and so forth, and as the door closed shut again, the musicians once more gathering up their instruments and striking up another tune.

Tales of The Tinker No.3. The Strange Vision of O'Breslein's Wife and the tale of the Yellow Knight.

It was on the Saturday afternoon, sometime roughly around half past five, shortly after O'Donovan and his colleague had completed their survey of the eastern end of the strand and the two men had been packing away their measuring sticks, that O'Donovan next saw the tinker, walking along the cobbled road towards O'Donoghue's pub. O'Donovan couldn't be certain but he felt as though the glancing smile that the tinker had thrown his way as he entered the pub may have indicated that his presence therein would be welcomed, and even, perhaps required.  Then, as if to confirm this, one of the fishermen told him that he'd better hurry in there, saying it wasn't the done thing to keep a man like the tinker waiting. 

And so O'Donovan left his colleague to finish packing up the gear and entered the pub where he saw the tinker sat in the corner in the same place they'd taken the night before, two pints of porter already set up on the table. 

The tinker's warm smile greeted O'Donovan as he approached, and a barely perceptible nod of the head was taken by O'Donovan as an invitation for him to take the seat opposite. The tinker then removed the cap from his fine head and taking a swallow from the tankard, drew a breath and began the next part of his story, as had been promised the night before. 

And this is the story the tinker told, detailed as well as O'Donovan could remember it when he wrote it down with pen and paper later that evening, of the strange vision of the wife of O'Breslein and the tale of the Yellow Knight

"Now, on a certain night, when O'Breslein and his wife were in bed in O' Breisléin's dún in Fanad the wife saw a strange vision. She fancied that there came over the sea horrible monsters, and that they overpowered all the country. Everybody considered that a strange vision, and they despatched a messenger to describe it to the Monk of the Visions, and the interpretation he put upon it was that a great fleet would come from overseas, and would make a conquest of all their lands. Wherefore, they adopted a plan as follows: whatever expedition would first come to them, that they would billet it over all their territory, and afterwards slay each household of them, so that none of them might escape with his life. 

Thereafter Eoin Mac Sween and his foster-father, Mac Gofradha of the Isles, came to Ireland on a trip of youth's pleasure and amusement, and they put in to Ceann Maghair Atha (Rinnaweer) to cut timber for the making of ships. And they sought food from everyone on all sides, and they got it from all except the O' Breisléins. The answer they got from these was that they would give no entertainment to anyone save to those who would come to them in their own houses. The reason they spake so was that they intended to murder all who were on the expedition. The others, having no such evil intentions towards the country as the country had towards them, replied that they thought the offer very generous. Then they came, and they were billeted over all the land, and Eoin and his foster-father, Mac Gofradha, were brought to Dún an Chairbrigh and to O' Breisléin's own house. 

When they had been some time in the house, and the hour for eating had come, they saw 

O' Breisléin and his sons entering in a body with shields and swords. While as Eoin and his party were entering a little before, the attendants of the house approached them and deprived them of all their weapons. And it is said it was on that very day that Eoin had first taken arms, and so he had refused to surrender them; and they so despised him for his youth that they considered it no harm that he should retain his weapon. When O' Breisléin and his family came in, as has been described, he rushed towards them with a fierce onset, and fed on them a rough injurious smiting of the burnished broad keen sword he held in his hand. The end of their engagement was that O' Breisléin and his sons, and all his people, were slain by them, and by the other side MacGofradha was killed without Eoin's knowing of it. Then Eoin departed, bringing all his followers with him out of every place they were, and he proceeded to make his way to Scotland. Now, as [on setting forth for O' Breisléin's house] they left the above-mentioned timber behind them, Mac Gofradha cast a magic mist over it, so that no one might discover it till they came back to it again. But since he was slain, that timber was never found from that day to this. And it is the famous wood wherein the Clann MacSweeney are fated to sail to Scotland at some future time. 

These were the names this Eoin had, namely: Eoin na Láimhe Maith' (Eoin of the Good Hand); Eoin 'na ningnadh' (Eoin of the Wonders); Eoin na 'Egnambia' (Eoin of the Prowess) and 'An Ridere Buidhe ' (The Yellow Knight). 

He was a noble wondrous man who travelled many lands in all the world because of his greatness, his deeds and his exploits. For no sword or weapon ever drew blood of him. He always carried two swords, and with equal dexterity he smote every opponent. He made three portions of everyone he hit, and he was the last man in Ireland and in Scotland who employed two swords as with two right hands. Once this Eoin was with his foster-father in Scotland, and the foster-father's people, that is, Mac Gofradha's, set out to defend their lands and patrimony, and Eoin joined them. However, they did not proceed in the same direction. He chanced to fall in with a party. He attacked them, and there fell by him sixteen of them. When the King of Scotland heard of this and many other of the deeds of Eoin, he sent for him, and said it was improper that a young man so great and famous as he should be elsewhere in Scotland, and not with the King himself. And he went to the King and the King took him as his foster-child and his own champion. On another occasion the King of Scotland went to meet the King of England at the bridge of Berwick, between Scotland and England. The King of Scotland had with him sixteen men, and the King of England sixteen hundred. And on either side they came to a parley. There the King of England declared war on the King of Scotland, and they selected a day a month later for the giving of battle. 

"Shall you respond then, lord ? " said Eoin to the King.

"It would be a disgrace for us to decline a battle," said the King. 

"Why not, then, give it at this moment?" said Eoin. 

"What assistance shall you render us ?" asked the King.

"A goodly support," replied Eoin, "for I myself will check his champions, while ye keep off the remainder." 

And when the King heard that, he forthwith ordered an attack on the King of England. Whereupon they assailed each other strongly, fiercely, and wildly, and delivered a furious, bloody battle to each other, and the King of England was defeated, and suffered innumerable losses. And the King and Eoin retumed, having gained a glorious victory. After that, on another occasion, this Eoin we speak of was with the King of Scotland, and he and another foster-child of the King, the son of the Great Steward of Marr, chanced to play together. And out of the playing there arose a dispute between Eoin and the Great Steward's son, in which the Great Steward's son fell at the hands of Eoin. Whereupon the King became enraged exceedingly, and when Eoin observed his anger, he submitted himself to whatever judgment he would pass upon him. The judgment the King passed was that he should leave Scotland, and not return till the end of a year. 

And so Eoin then set out for Ireland with a great, immense fleet. The spot where he landed in Ireland was in Fanad, for he meant to avenge the insult to himself and his foster-father, Mac Gofradha, on the O' Breisléins. The O' Breisléins set about opposing him with all their people, but he, with fierce attack, furiously, courageously, and with spirited forces, came to land in spite of them, and commenced with great effect to mutilate and slaughter them. It were impossible to describe it in full, but for certain O' Breisléin and his people were put to flight. It was there their ruin was effected, so that from then till now they have remained submerged. That was the rout of Crann Cuillmin in Fanad, after which Eoin seized all the country and dwelt there ever after, and he was the first Mac Sweeney who made a settlement in Fanad. 

Some time after that O' Domhnaill came to avenge his kinsmen on Mac Sween, and Mac 

Sween collected all his followers, Scots and Irish. They gave battle to each other at Gort Cathlaighe (Gortcally) and the Scots put O' Domhnaill to flight in the beginning. The rout continued till he came to Mulán na nAlbanach in Achadh Bunursann. There O' Domhnaill threw them back, and many of the Scots were slain at that place, and that is why it is called Mulán na nAlbanach to-day. 

After that defeat Eoin remained a long period without war or battle in the lordship of that 

country, and when he had spent the rest of his life in peace and prosperity, his death-sickness 

overtook him in the islands of Ceann Maghair Atha. When O' Domhnaill heard of that illness he gathered his hosts and his forces, and summoned O' Néill to himself that the two might attack Mac Sween. And having come together, they despatched messengers to Mac Sween to discover how he was, and to conclude a peace with him if he was better; and if he were not, to proclaim war on him. When he heard that these emissaries were approaching, he asked that apples and milk should be brought to him. He arose from his bed and dressed himself in all his habiliments, and when the envoys came into his presence, he requested O' Néill's messenger to lay bare his shin before him. And he threw an apple at him, and it is affirmed that therewith he stripped a bone in the shin of the messenger. As the envoys considered that he was powerful and healthy they made peace as they were ordered on behalf of O' Domhnaill and O' Néill. On their return to the armies they announced that Mac Sween was well and that they had concluded peace on behalf of their masters. And when the armies heard that they separated, and after that retumed home. 

As for Mac Sween, he died the night following the departure of the envoys, and the 

above-mentioned cast was his last."

The tinker slowly took to his feet, again stooping to avoid the ceiling beams and replacing his cap, turned back to O'Donovan, "Tomorrow is Sunday, but I'll be back the day after. If you're here I'll tell you the story of the trials and tribulations of Murchadh Mear 'The Crazy'. Then he turned and barely acknowledged the calls of farewell that each and every man who was there made.

"There he goes", said one.

"Fine fellow", said another.

"Good evening to you, MacSweeney" chimed in yet another, but the tinker was gone, the door quietly closing as the pub returned to its normal, noisy ways and the fiddles, pipes and drums struck up another tune. 

 

Tales of The Tinker No.2. Miles Muire and The Magic Purse.

It was on the Friday morning, when O'Donovan the surveyor had sat down on the low wall to watch the comings and goings on the strand, that he first saw the tinker, a tall and stately man who was accompanied by three women, some children - including a pair of fine, stalwart young sons - a donkey, some greyhounds and a goat. On enquiring from a local fisherman who the man was he was told that it was MacSweeney na Tuatha and his family, and that he was recognised by many of the older folk as being the senior of all the old Milesian chiefs in the district, from Fanad to Ballyshannon. 

Later that day, after the last of the western part of the strand had been surveyed, O'Donovan met MacSweeney, who was a travelling man, and the latter recited his pedigree all the way back to Sir Malmurry, the famous rebel who had escaped the English by jumping from a ship and swimming to the shore of Loch Swilly. O'Donovan was very much taken by this MacSweeney, and later wrote that he thought the MacSweeneys 'a fair race; generous, humane, manly and noble, and added that they were easily distinguishable from the other tribes by the peculiar cast of their physiognomy.'

Later, over a glass of porter in O'Donoghue's Pub, this MacSweeney told him the following story, and although it was only copied down with pen and paper much later that evening, under candle light in O'Donovan's room, you can be fairly certain that the details are all there and correct. For O'Donovan had a good faculty for the remembering of facts and small details. The entry he made in his journal that night, concerning the tinker's tale of a fairy woman and Miles Muire an 'Sparrain, an ancient chief of the Clan MacSweeney:

"Now the son of Anradhán was Aodh Alainn mac Anradhán, and a son of Aodh Alainn was Donnsléibhe, and Donnsléibhe's son was Sween, from whom the Clan MacSweeney derive their name. Sween was the most noble and the most distinguished of the twelve sons of Donnsléibhe. It was he who built Castle Sween in Scotland. A son of that Sween was Miles Mhuire an' Sparráin ' , or Maolmhuire 'of the Purse,' and that Maolmhuire is the ancestor of the three Clanna MacSweeney. He had a fairy lover, that is, a fairy woman was his wife, and it was she who bestowed on him the famous purse above mentioned. 

Of that purse this was a property: every time it would be opened a small penny and a shilling would be found within it. And for a long time Maolmhuire lived thus: but at length his kinsfolk wished to give him another wife, and the one they chose was Bean Midhe, daughter of Toirrdhealbhach Mór O Conchubhair. And a great fleet set out for Ireland, and they who brought it rested not until they reached Sligo. They spent two nights in the town, and they carried away the lady with them.

 

One night, after that, Maolmhuire was in Castle Sween, and the fairy woman afore-mentioned had promised to bring him her child, and had told him to remain awake to receive her, but when she came, there was no one awake in the house except the daughter of O Conchubhair. And she seated herself by the fire, and asked if Mac Sween was awake. O Conchubhair's daughter said he was not, and she offered clothes to her to put about the child. And she would not accept them, but said that sleep would bring destruction on Mac Sween, and on his children after him, and she departed in anger then, and has never since been seen. Neither has anyone ever seen her son, that is, Fearfeadha, except whenever he came to render help to Clann MacSweeney in battle or necessity. 

One day Maolmhuire was on the green at his house, and there came to him a trio of poets, and the only poem they offered him was of three verses, namely, a verse by each. And these are the three verses : 

Maolmhuire, son of Sween, 

for a purse we have come; 

what thou refusest to us 

thou wouldst bestow on a 

company of mimics.

Heir of Donnsléibhe's son, 

inheritor of generosity and noblesse. 

the blessing of every poet on thee; 

fail not to bestow on us. 

Why wouldst thou refuse us, 

yellow-haired descendant of Buirrche, 

for thou has ne'er refused any, 

O Maolmhuire, son of Sween. 

Then he gave to them the purse, and all say that they who had come there were the brothers of the fairy woman.

When Maolmhuire had completed the course of his life, he died, and his body was brought to the monastery of Columcille on Iona. Murchadh, his son, and all his people went with it, and when they arrived at the monastery, they could find no house in which to wake the body of Mac Sween that night except one unroofed building which was in the place. When Murchadh heard that, he gave orders that the building should be covered with splendid cloth, and said it would be improper to put any other protection over the body of Mac Sween. And his people did as he bade them, and when Mac Sween was buried on the following day, they wished to carry away the covering with them. But Murchadh forbade them to do that, and he bestowed all the drapery on the monks in honour of God and of Columcille." 

The tinker looked up now and quickly downed the last drop of porter from his tankard, stood up, stooping slightly so his head narrowly avoiding a knock from the roof beam of the pub, pulled his cap over the side of his fine head and said "If you are here tomorrow I'll tell you the story of the strange vision of O'Breslein's wife and the tale of the Yellow Knight".

And with that he turned and walked out of the place, several of the regulars calling out to him a greeting of farewell and so forth, which the tinker barely acknowledged, quietly closing the pub door behind him.