Read Online Devil's Mountain by Bernadette Walsh - Free Book Online Page A

that. This part of Kerry is often quite wet. That summer the sun shone almost every day. One day the man invited the Mountain families to the glen beside the Devlin’s cottage. Now, the people had always avoided the glen. It was said to be home to the sidhe , the good folk.”
    “The good folk?” I asked.
    “The fae, faeries. The people were afraid, but the man had been kind to them. They didn’t want to insult him so they all put on their best clothes and joined Him in the glen, outside the prochog , the cave.
    “In front of the cave, the man set out a feast of roasted meats and thick golden mead.
    Now these were simple folk, not used to fine food or drink. It was pure heaven to them. He gave a few of the Murphy boys golden fiddles and pipes which they played like angels. The people ate, drank and danced until morn. Even the children.”
    I smiled. “So they had a forest rave?”
    Dot laughed. “A rave? I suppose, something like that. The people lost their fear of the glen and the caves and at least once a week they feasted with the man. They soon began to refer to Him as Slanaitheoir, which in Irish means savior.
    “Now, usually the men of the family would go into Kilvarren village to sell their crops, buy supplies and of course pay the landlord, Lord Devon, his rent. Almost three months after Slanaitheoir arrived two of the men took the road off the Mountain to town, but a thick hedge had grown up across the road and circled the base of the Mountain for as far as the men could see. The next day they went to the south side of the Mountain, toward Killogrin. The south side too was blocked by an even thicker hedge.
    “A hedge?” I asked.
    “Unlike any they’d ever seen. It was near twenty feet high and so thick they could not see through it. A few brave men tried to hack through it with axes, but the branches had sharp thorns and the men were soon bloodied. They asked Slanaitheoir to help them clear it. Even He was unable to cut through it.
    “Some of the people worried they would be turned out of their homes if they didn’t pay their rent. And although their needs were few, they still needed certain staples from the town.
    The people poured out their worries to Slanaitheoir . It seemed once they spoke to Him, their worries left them. The women would tell him they needed a needle and thread, or a new pot, and soon these items would appear on their doorstep. Their crops and livestock continued to thrive, and the Mountain folk for the first time in their memory had all their needs met. Every few days the five families would gather in the glen and dance until morn with Slanaitheoir .
    “This seems like a nice story. I don’t see why my mother wouldn’t want you to tell me about it. How long were they cut off from the village?”
    “For seven years. From 1845 to 1852. The Famine years,” Dot said.
    “The Great Famine?”
    “Yes. The country starved, Kilvarren village was decimated while the five families feasted and danced with Slanaitheoir .”
    “What happened? How did they get off the Mountain?” I asked.
    The front door opened with a bang. My uncle Tim barreled though the small hallway and into the front room.
    “How ye? It’s lashing rain out there.”
    I’d been so caught up in Dot’s story that I hadn’t even noticed the storm outside.
    “Jesus, Timmy, what time is it?” Dottie asked.
    “Past eleven.”
    “Past eleven! And this lady with a flight in the morning. Caroline, love, I’m sorry I’ve delayed you with all my old stories. Timmy, run her up to Mary Devlin’s now so she can get some sleep.”
    “Dottie, really, it’s all right.”
    “No, no, if I cause you to oversleep and miss your flight your mother will never let me hear the end of it. Go on now, love, get your things and Timmy will take you back.”
    “You didn’t finish your story.”
    “Ah, I’ll tell you next time I see you, love. Those stories are as old as the hills and they’ll keep.” Dot kissed me on the cheek