Once a very long time ago foreign pirates sailed the coast of Ireland .  They rowed from their great ships in long boats and snatched children and young people to be carried away and sold as slaves.    The deep seas around Dalkey and Killiney were a favourite spot for the pirates to raid and the people who lived there kept a constant watch for their ships.  They lived in fear and tried to make sure their children were kept safely out of sight when pirates were spotted on the ocean.

An important lookout point was on top of Killiney Hill and one very hot day the young man appointed as the lookout found himself growing drowsy.  His eyes scanned the bright blue waters, swept along the horizon over and over again until the light made his head ache and eyes started to close.  Several times he jumped up and stamped up and down in an effort to stay awake but he couldn’t help himself.  His eyelids dropped and stayed shut.  His head nodded and he fell into a deep sleep.

And while the slept, the pirates’ ship slid into view.   The longboat was launched and a troop of armed pirates rowed for the shore, ran through fields and homes, brandishing their weapons and rounded up nearly thirty children.  They were bundled onto the boat and rowed away before the wailing of their parents and families rent the air.

The pirates landed their captors on Dalkey Island where they had set up camp.  They mounted armed guards, tied up the children and plotted their next raid.   Mad with grief, the families rushed to their Clan Chief and begged him to do something to get their children back.  The Chief was an old man and very feeble.   He needed the help of his only child and daughter to walk out of his house and into the meeting area in front.

First the young lookout who had fallen asleep and failed to alert the people was brought forward for judgment.   He trembled with fear and shame as the angry crowd forced him to his knees.   Seamus admitted his sin immediately.   He had fallen asleep in the hot sun and he could make no excuse for his weakness which had cost the families so dear.

‘Throw him off the cliff’ demanded one father.   ‘Give him to the pirates’, shouted another.   There was no forgiveness for him.

The Chief nodded wearily.   ‘He deserves to pay with his life’, he agreed.  ‘And he will pay, but the most urgent business is how to rescue the children.’  His weak old eyes blinked.  ‘How many men and weapons can we raise.’  The crowd murmured and muttered.  One man stepped forward.

‘We have spades and pitchforks’ he said, his voice thick with despair.  The pirates have spears and swords’.  We are farmer and fishermen, they are fighters and cutthroats, we stand no chance against them. They will blast us out of the water before we get to the island and anyone who makes it will be hacked down like an animal.’

The fathers groaned and the mother wept.   The old chief shook his head clasped his trembling hands beneath his cloak.   ‘I am too old for this’ he muttered.   ‘They need someone strong and brave to lead them’

Then his daughter stepped forward.   Her mother had been a princess from another tribe in the west of the country and she inherited the title.  She was tall and fair and she could run like a deer and swim like a dolphin.  Her name was Princess Ailbhe.

‘I am strong for a woman’ she announced.   ‘But strength alone cannot do what cunning must.   We will not get our children back by fighting the pirates.  But we can steal them back with courage and guile.’  She pointed to the trembling prisoner.  ‘Give him to me.  If he is to sacrifice his life for his crime he may as well do it by helping restore them.’   Seamus looked up in gratitude and announced he would willingly do anything asked of him.

The crowd were impressed by the confidence and courage the young princess showed.  Her father agreed at once and Ailbhe strode off followed by Seamus.  They set off up Killiney Hill, following a well trodden path until they reached the summit and then branching off to a small clearing overlooking the sea.  The great stone chair faced the water and only the back of a white haired man was visible at first, the sweet pungent scent of tobacco drifting towards them.

‘Come forward’, a deep voice commanded and the pair approached and sat on the ground at the Ceann Ceallmhar’s feet.   ‘I’ve been expecting you Ailbhe’, the tall man told her.  He tapped his pipe on the stone seat of the chair and folded his hands. ‘

‘I have need of your wisdom and trickery as never before’, she begged him.  ‘Our children are penned up on the island, like cattle to the slaughter.  Once the pirate ship sails they will never see their family or their homeland again.  With your help I will bring them home and keep them safe.  

The Ceann Ceallmhor stroked his beard and pulled on his pipe.  He closed his eyes and after a time Ailbhe was afraid he had fallen asleep.  But eventually he spoke.  ‘Very well’ he said.  I will tell you what you need and then it is up to you.  You will need courage and luck and a good deal of help and then you will need the wing feathers of 30 birds, eagles, seagulls, hawks, crows, every variety of bird that flies in these parts.  You will need ten lengths of stout rope and three tubs of goosefat blackened with soot.  You will need the stomachs of 30 cows and the strongest potion the Woman in the Woods can brew.  You will need the help of the Seal Woman and most of all you will need to hurry.  Soon the weather will change and the pirates will sail away taking away any chance of bringing our children home.

Princess Ailbhe nodded  and the Ceall Ciallmhor told her how she must proceed once she had acquired everything on his list.

Back down on the coast the whole community was set to work.  The fishermen were tasked with plaiting thick lengths of rope, the women rounded up every jar of goose fat stored up for the winter and the old men set about scraping the soot from chimneys and mixing it into great tubs of fat.   The younger men combed the fields and hedges, trapping every variety of bird and removing a few feathers from each before releasing them.  Every farmer and butcher for miles was ordered to deliver as many cows stomachs, emptied and cleaned, to the harbour.  Ailbhe and Seamus set off to find the Woman in the Woods,

As luck would have it she was sitting in the sun outside the door of her tiny cottage in a clearing in the woods.   She was busy picking the leaves off from a basketful of twigs at her feet and narrowed her eyes suspiciously as they approached.

‘Princess Ailbbhe ‘I do believe’,  sniggered.  ‘To what do I owe the honour?  Is a love potion you’re after or something to spoil the pretty looks of a rival.  Do you want to make a young girl’s golden hair fall out or grow boils on the face of a fellow who’s done you wrong’.   She cackled with laugher and stamped her foot on the dusty ground.

Ailbhe shook her head and fell to her knees before the grey haired old woman.  ‘The pirates have stolen our children and without your help they will be lost for ever.  Only you can give me what I need to get them back.  Only you have the power to save them.’   The woman’s face hardened at these words.   ‘What care I for stolen childen when I have none of my own?  She demanded harshly.   What care I for the wailing and tears of the men and women who shun me when they see me walking the road but sneak here to the woods in dead of night to buy my potions with their heads covered and their voices lowered to a whisper.’

Ailbhe raised her eyes to look directly into hers. ‘ I come here without shame or pride to plead for your help.  I come in the full knowledge of our whole clan and I will order that every child born for the next ten years takes your name as part of theirs so that we never forget what we owe you.  In future no one will come to you in the night but in the full light of day and when you walk among us we will greet you by name and with respect.’ There was a long moment’s silence then the woman slowly nodded.  

What is it you need’ she asked and Ailbhe told her what the Ceann Ceallmhor had ordered.   The old woman frowned and scratched some marks on the dusty ground with a twig.  I have nothing like that in stock, she muttered.  It will take time to gather the ingredients,  days perhaps and then time to brew the potion.  You must give me a week, maybe longer.  

Ailbhe shook her head impatiently.   There is no time, it must be done tonight.  Seamus will gather what you need,  he can climb trees, move rocks, find the tiniest of herbs and plants and insects.   I will return in the morning. ‘ With that, she strode away leaving  Seamus behind and set off for a rocky headland further up the coast.

The sun was high overhead and the Seal Woman was stretched out on a rock,  waves lapping at the edge,her long sleek hair gathered around her like a cloak.  Her ears pricked up long before Ailbhe approached and she rolled over to stare at her from great brown  eyes.  Three large seals basking on another rock nearby moved towards, forming a protective circle as Ailbhe drew near.

‘Have you heard about the children?’ she asked at once.  ‘Will you help us take them back and bring them home where they belong? ‘ The Seal  Woman rolled onto her back and raised her arms above her head and laughed.   ‘That’s thirty less mouths to eat the fish my people need’,  she sneered.    ‘ Your fishermen give no heed to our hunger,  they fish further and deeper each year and sometimes their nets even catch our young and they never come home.   The pirates are welcome to steal their broods and drive their families inland and leave the coast to us.’

At these words Ailbhe cried out in protest and moved towards the Seal Woman who rolled into a ball and turned away..  The seals growled a threat and slapped their flippers loudly against the rock.

‘Very well,’ Ailbhe cried.  You can name your price but I must have your help and that of your  people.  Tell me what you want and it is yours.’

The Seal Woman spring to her feet and gestured towards the sea.  Her fingers were long and narrow with a thin web of skin between each finger.   Her teeth were sharp and pointed and her ears lay flat against her head.   ‘From the island to the headland is ours’ she demanded.  ‘No fishermen will venture here and no seals will be captured or harmed. ‘  Agreed’ Ailbhe responded at once.

‘Wait,’  the Seal Woman raised her hand.  ‘That’s not all.  The tiger shark that comes  to these waters each Spring must be killed, he preys upon our young and takes even more fish than your people. ‘You have my word,’  Ailbhe agreed.  ‘Our best fishermen will hunt him down and your people will be safe.   Now this is what I need from you. ‘ She sank down on the rocks and they talked for nearly an hour, then Ailbhe looked at the sky and asked one final question.

‘The morning after tomorrow,’ the Seal Woman told her. ‘ The storm will come from the south and move round to the east.  It will come quickly and with little warning.  If they have any sense your pirates will sail as soon as they see the signs and keep a steady course to home. ‘

Ailbhe turned to go. ‘ Then tomorrow night it is,’she announced.  ‘We will gather at the harbour at sunset.’

Back along the coast the clan had been hard at work.  Great coils of rope laid neatly stacked by the harbour wall,  goosefat, black and sooty as night was packed into lightweight pots and tied at the neck with string. Men and women were taking turns at blowing into the opening of the thirty cow stomachs until they grew round and filled with air and then they fastened them securely with string and sealed the tie with tar.  Ailbhe gathered everyone around and told them what she had agreed with the Woman of the Woods and the Seal Woman.  The fishermen muttered among themselves and the women pulled their shawls tightly around them.  Then a woman at the back stood  up.  She turned to look at the island and all eyes followed hers.  Darkness was falling and the light of a campfire glowed red in the distance.  Sounds of talking and shouting drifted over the water and dark shapes could  be seen moving in front of the fire.  

Her voice was low and raw from crying and her hair was wild and loose.   ‘I am a widow these three years’, she wailed, ‘and my two young sons are all I have in the world and I am all they have.  Those devils snatched them from my very arms and have them penned up like animals.   I would throw myself into the sea this very moment to save them,  I would burn my house to the ground and everything I own if it would bring them back.  There is not a child’s life on that island that is not worth all the fish in the sea and anything that is in our power to do to bring them back.  Let no one here dare raise a protest against what our Chieftan’s daughter has proposed or let them live in shame and exile for the rest of their days.’  There was a low murmur of agreement among the assembly and the widow sat down and cried with relief while Ailbhe raised her hand for attention.  ‘Then we go’, she declared.  ‘Tomorrow night, Seamus and I will bring your children home or die in the trying.’

The following night was clear and cold.  Too clear for Ailbhe’s liking,  the moon cast a pale steady light over sea and land.  Ailbhe and Seamus made their final preparations down at the shoreline.  First they smeared themselves thickly from head to toe with blackened goosefat as protection against the cold water and to render them invisible to the pirate lookout.   Ailbhe secured the potion brewed by the Woman of the Woods around her neck.  Seamus fastened a padded oilskin bag containing 30 feathers on her back and then she waded into the sea.  Seamus followed nervously.  He was by no means such a strong swimmer as her and the sight of the dark stretch of sea between him and the island, broken by choppy waves, made him feel dizzy.  Suddenly the Seal Woman’s head popped up in front of him followed by the bulky shapes of a group of seals diving and ducking through the swell.

Between them,  Ailbhe and Seamus hauled on the length of rope stretched on the foreshore, pulling it into the water where the Seal Woman took one end and secured it firmly in the mouth of the big seal that swam up to her.   He swam away and another seal moved in to take the rope in his teeth.  Every few feet  the inflated cow’s stomachs had been attached to the rope and, as seal after seal moved in to take up the rope the stomachs bobbed just below the surface keeping the rope suspended above the water.

Ailbhe swam on ahead with the Seal Woman moving through the choppy waves with ease while Seamus clung to the rope being dragged by the seal for dear life.   A bank of cloud moved across the moon bringing utter darkness to the scene.  It was only as his head bobbed up occasionally and he gulped in air that he could see a bright speck of the pirates campfire on the island that seemed never to be getting any closer.  Again and again the cold waves slapped him in the face,  his hands were rubbed raw from clinging to the rough rope and he was beginning to despair when Ailbhe swam close to him and whispered that they had nearing the island.  The shoreline was rough and stony , cutting and bruising his bare feet as he staggered ashore.   The Seal Woman and her seals moved back out to sea leaving them alone on land.   The blackened goosefat had survived the swim well but they scooped out more handfuls from the big container the Seal Woman had tied to one of the cows’s stomachs and and smeared their faces and hair anew.

Seamus and Ailbhe had gone over their plan many times so without a word, Seamus took the flask of potion and started up the slope towards the Pirate’s encampment, keeping as close to the ground as possible, crawling on his belly like a snake.    Closer and closer he drew to the camp.  Everything depended on his being able to get to the Pirates’s store of wine before they began their evening session of eating and drinking.  He crept as near as he could to the campfire hardly daring to breath.  Suddenly a shout went up from the Sentry on the highest point of the island and the pirates jumped to their feet and looked in the direction he was pointing. A bright light pierced the darkness, a leaping flame out at sea.   It could only be a small boat, set on fire, and heading for the pirate ship moored off the island.  

With muttered oaths and curses the pirates headed for the shore, ready to jump into their longboats and head off the burning vessel threatening their ship.  At soon as they left Seamus crawled over to the camp fire and found the storage area,  three great wineskins with cork stoppers.   With a shaking hand he unstopped the vial Alibhe had entrusted to him and poured a measure into each wineskin until the vial was empty.  Then he scurried away from the campfire as quickly as he could.

Meanwhile out at sea the burning boat had disappeared from view, the flames extinguished like a light going out, to the astonishment of the pirates who were preparing to set off to intercept it.   The Seal Woman and her seals, having dragged the boat under the waves to extinguish the flames, surfaced again and headed back to the island.

Ailbhe and Seamus withdrew a safe distance from the encampment and found a patch of higher ground where they could keep an eye on events.   The pirates sat around the campfire,eating and drinking freely from the wine skins,  still puzzled by the burning boat that had appeared and disappeared so mysteriously.   As they were due to set sail the next day they were determined to finish their store of wine as there was no drinking allowed on board ship.

Great shouts of laughing and shouting floated over the cold night air to Seamus and Ailbhe in their hiding place, then a chorus of lively singing that grew noisier and noisier as the wine went down.   Eventually, at long last, one by one, the pirates slumped forward and fell sound asleep, sprawled on the ground and dead to the world.

The children were huddled together, securely bound with rope at the hands and wrists and shivering with fear and cold.   The sight of Ailbhe and Seamus approaching, their faces and hair thick with blackened flat made them cry out with fright and it was only the familiar sound of their native tongue whispering reassuringly to them that calmed them.   Seamus’s sharp knife quickly sliced through the knots of string and Ailbhe put the youngest and smallest in the care of the older children, leading them away from the campfire down to the shore, urging them to silence.   Meanwhile Seamus arranged the severed knots and loops of rope in a neat line and in each knot he placed a feather, from crow, sparrow, seagull, hawk and eagle, one feather for each child had been captive.  Then he scrambled after Ailbhe and the children and met with them at the shore.

She had already started to grease their bodies and hair with the blackened goose fat and he joined in,  getting the bigger ones to help too.  It was only when she explained to them that they would have to get into the cold dark sea stretched out before them that they sobbed and whimpered in terror and shook their heads.  In vain Seamus and Ailbhe tried to persuade them by telling them that their parents were waiting for them on the other side of the water, that the grease would protect them from the cold and that the ropes and cows stomachs full of air would keep them afloat.  But it seemed nothing could persuade them and overcome their dread of the dark, cold water that lapped at their feet and Ailbhe began to despair that her plan would work.

Then a dark sleek head bobbed up out of the waves and the Seal Woman emerged from the waist up.  She began to sing.  A wordless song,  rising and falling like the waves themselves, low and sweet, calming and soothing, rich and soft  as midnight velvet.  Ailbhe waded into the waves and held out her arms and one by one the children ventured in after her.  The Seal Woman secured each child to the rope with a tough strand of seaweed and, at her signal, one of the seals tugged it forward until all the children were moving across the stretch of sea towards the shore.    Ailbhe and Seamus went last, Ailbhe swimming up and down the line of children with reassuring words while Seamus clung on to the very end of the rope.    The moon sailed behind a thick bank of cloud and the sentry on the highest point of the Island saw nothing to alert his suspicions, his eyes focused on the land alert for any signs of the mysterious burning boat.

To Seamus it seemed as if the ordeal would never end.  Only the sound of the Seal Woman’s song, rising above the slap of the waves keep him going. Just when he felt his grip on the rope weakening and feared he was about to slip down into the depths, he heard a faint cry up ahead and raising his head, saw the outline of land, darker than the sea.  Then his feet felt stoney ground beneath him and he staggered ashore.

Though blackened with grease and soot each child’s parents knew them at once and hauled them into their arms, weak with relief and joy.  Within minutes the families had melted into the darkness, going home to hot soup and warm fires.  The widow held her young sons so tightly they could hardly breathe.  The Seal Woman and her seals had vanished beneath the waves and it was left to some of the old fishermen to gather in the rope and cow stomachs and hide them away.   Ailbhe led an exhausted Seamus back to her house  where he sank in front of the fire and slept like the dead.

Dawn broke over Dalkey Island a few hours later as a sullen red sun inched over the horizon, soon obscured by ragged dark clouds thickening above the sea.   The shock of a sudden sharp shower flinging icy spears of rain at the still sleeping pirates had them mumbling and cursing  as they staggered to their feet, rubbing their eyes and shaking their heads to throw off the fumes of wine and sleep.   All night long their dreams had been invaded by the beating wings and raucous cries of birds, their great talons and sharp beaks coming towards them.   Some beat the air around them to ward off the birds of their dreams.

A loud cry from the lookout above them drew their eyes in the direction he was pointing as a   gloomy grey light revealed empty ground where their captives had huddled the night before.

With a huge bellow of rage the Pirate captain staggered forward,  followed by the his crew, their jaws open in astonishment.   At that moment a huge flock of birds, dark and menacing,  wheeled , above them diving and dipping on the rising wind, their hoarse cries  like a mocking chorus overhead.  One of pirates bent down and picked up the empty coil of rope in one hand, holding aloft the large tail feather of an eagle in the other.   He shivered in fear and made the sign of protection against the evil eye.   The other pirates backed away, muttering to each other.  ‘This island is cursed’ one of them shouted.   Those children have turned into birds and flown away, and now they have come back  to  hunt us down.’  The Captain span around around grabbed him by the throat, flinging him to the ground with a mighty roar.Then the lookout called again and pointed towards their ship.  It was rocking wildly on its moorings, as the storm gathered force from the South.   Overhead the circling flock of birds grew bigger and louder,  swooping and falling, rising and  wheeling, cawing and calling, loud piercing shrieks above the moaning of the rising wind.

As of one mind the crew of pirates set off for the shore and their longboat , abandoning their camp and all their possessions.    Back on the land, the Clan saw them rowing desperately to the ship and clamber up the rope ladders to the deck.   The Captain bellowed orders and soon the sails were unfurled and the great pirate ship was heading out to sea.   When they did eventually reach their homeland the stories they told of a cursed island and magic spells that turned children into hunting birds spread far and wide and no pirates dared sail near Dalkey Island again.

High on the hill the Ceann Ceallmhoir watched the pirate ship flee the storm and as the great flock of birds turned back to land and flew low above him he raised in a hand in silent acknowledgment of their help.  Then he settled back in his stone chair and lit his pipe.

Long long ago a young boy was fishing for crabs off the rocks in Wales one day when he was captured by pirates.   Two of them came up silently behind him when he was bending over his line, threw a sack over his head and carried him struggling to their boat before he knew what was happening. He was a strong, well built young boy and the pirates knew they would get a  good price for him.  They had planned on taking him far around the world to sell as a slave in a distant country but as soon as they set sail a terrible storm blew up and their ship was wrecked off the coast of Ireland.

All of the sailors drowned because they thought it was bad luck to learn to swim.     But the young boy survived. He was used to the rough seas of Wales and battled his way to land where a farmer and his wife found him washed up on the sea’s edge.  He lay, half drowned,  surrounded by the wreckage of the ship, including  pieces of gold and crates of precious cloth.  The kindly couple decided to give him a home and the valuables they found meant they could afford to treat him like a son and welcome him into their family.

The young boy was given a new name and learned to speak Irish.   At first he longed for his family, his mother and father and all his brothers and sisters and the country he had grown up in. But, as the years went by,  the memories dimmed,  He married his adoptive parents’ daughter and took over the farm and he learned to love the country he had spent most of his life in.  He and his wife had seven strong tall sons and two loving daughters and he told them all how lucky he was to have lived such a long and happy life.

But as age closed in him and he felt his death grow near the old longing for his native land returned stronger than it had been in his youth.   He knew that by now his parents would no longer be living and most likely any of his family still alive would have long forgotten him.   But there was a hole in his heart when he thought of where he had been born that nothing his loving sons and daughters could do for him would fill.

He had a mortal fear of ever taking to the sea again since he had nearly died in the storm that brought him to Ireland but his heart yearned for a glimpse of Wales.   Then he remembered stories he had heard from local people that, on certain days when the light was just right, from a particular place on Killiney Hill,  you could catch a glimpse in the far far distance of the mountain tops of Wales.

The old man still had good eyesight but his legs were weak and it took him a long time to climb to the top of the hill and look out to sea.  Day after day he climbed, often not returning till late at night at worn out and exhausted but, most of all, sadly disappointed.  His sons and daughters grew increasingly worried about him. ‘What can we do to help Father?’ they begged him.  They hated to see the deep sadness in his eyes each evening when he returned home.

‘Life me up on your shoulders’, the old man begged.   ‘Life me high into the sky so that I might be able to see further.’   So they did.   Four of them went up the hill with their father the next morning and lifted their father as high as they could on their shoulderss as he peered out to sea.   ‘Higher’, their father begged them,  ‘lLift me higher,  I see nothing but sea.’   They strained their great muscles and held him as high as they could but still he was disappointed and they puzzled what they could do.

The youngest son had an idea and set off to find the wise one, the Ceann Ciallmhar, to seek his advice.  He searched high and low until eventually he caught a trace of smoke on the air and found the white bearded old man sitting back on his great stone chair overlooking the sea.  The young son told him the story and the wise one stroked his beard, smoked his pipe and told him what to do.

That night the seven sons went back and laid a thick platform of stone on the side of the hill.  The next morning they stood on it when they raised their father up on their shoulders and he was higher than he had been the day before.  Yet still he saw nothing but the sea stretching out to the edge of nowhere. That night they laid another layer on the top of the first, slight smaller so they could step up.   Next morning they again raised their father higher than before but still he had no success.

Each night they added a layer until they had built a structure that grew smaller with each layer, a step higher until it reached a small square point and they could go no further.   The next morning as dawn was breaking they helped their father to the top and he stood there alone straining his eyes out to sea.   For an age he stared, raising himself up onto his toes and his gaze narrowed in concentration.  The sun came out from behind a cloud,  lighting up something in the distance.  Excitement rose in his breast, but he could not be sure of what he was seeing.  Were those shapes in the distance, at the edge of sky and sea, just clouds or the far distant mountains of Wales?  If only he could go higher, just a little higher so he could be sure. His heart was breaking with a longing to see his home, when he heard a cry of alarm  from his sons standing below him.  The pointed to the sky as two great eagles swooped down and each took one of the old man’s outstretched arms in their great talons.  Up into the air they raised him, high high above the stone step pyramid and up above Killiney Hill until the old man  could see far beyond the horizon to the sunlit mountain of Wales.   The eagles held him there suspended for only a few seconds as he feasted his eyes on the sight he had so longed to see.  Then they lowered him gently back to earth and into the sorrowful embrace of his sons as they gathered up his dead body.

The sons bore their father home to lay him to rest and all the neighbours commented on the peaceful expression on his face.   As a memorial to the father, the sons kept the step pyramid on Killiney Hill in good condition and it survives to this very day.   It is said that at certain times,  if you stand on the top step and look hard you too can see Wales at the edge of the sea and sky and this can be done even without the help of eagles.

Once some time ago there was a young girl called Estelle who had stopped speaking.  No one knew for sure whether she could speak but did not want to or whether she wanted to speak but could not.  All that was known was that no one had heard her speak in a very long time.

Her parents took her to doctor after doctor who all examined her and could not explain the problem.  They could see no obvious reason why she did not speak.   ‘Perhaps she had a terrible fright when she was very small,’ suggested one.  ‘ Perhaps she is just looking for attention,’ said another doctor who was annoyed that he could not solve the mystery.  ‘Perhaps she has nothing to say’, suggested a third.

Her mother and father and brothers and sisters gradually accepted the fact that Estelle did not speak.   Perhaps it made them even noisier for they were a very noisy family indeed.   Her younger brother and sister were constantly arguing at the tops of their voices.  The radio and television were always on. Music pounded from her older brother’s room.  Her mother had to shout to make herself heard.  ‘Can’t you keep it down,’ she would plead. ‘Sometimes I can hardly hear myself think!’     The family got quite used to communicating with Estelle through a mixture of pointing and a simple sign language they made up themselves.  When she started school her old sisters made sure no one teased her.    She learned to read and had very neat handwriting. She did all her homework correctly and was never in trouble.   But she made no friends and it broke her mother’s heart to see her come home every day, her face white and pinched with sadness.

Every Sunday morning Estelle’s father would take all the children up Killiney Hill for a walk while their mother had a rest in peace.  It made no difference whether it was sunny or raining, freezing or blowing a gale,  they had to wear what was suitable and off they set.   The boys liked to chase their dog into the trees and throw balls for him to catch.  The girls played hiding games, or collected blackberries when they were on the bushes or raced each other to the top.

One morning when they set off the mist was so thick they could not see the spire on the top. ‘It’s like climbing into a cloud’, they said.   The mist got thicker and thicker the higher they climbed.  ‘Stick together’, their father warned.   ‘Don’t wander off the path.  Stay where I can see you.’   There didn’t seem to be anyone else out walking that day.  ‘Everyone else has more sense,’ their father laughed. They were nearly at the top of the hill when they realised no one had seen their dog for some time.   They called his name and whistled but he didn’t appear. They heard a distant barking but it was hard to tell what direction it was coming from.  The mist made sounds seem very far away.

Estelle tried to keep up with her brothers and sisters as they scattered in search of their dog.  After a time she realised she was lost and quite alone in the mist.  She opened her mouth to call for help but no sound emerged.  Looking up she caught a glimpse of a tall, white bearded man with a raised arm like a sign post.  A narrow path appeared beneath her feet where the mist was slightly thinner and she followed it carefully.   Her outstretched hands connected with cold stone and as she groped her way around she found a arched doorway and crept inside.   There was enough light inside to see she was in tiny round tower with an arching stone roof above.  She could reach out and touch the cold stone walls with her hands.  Outside the white mist swirled more thickly than ever.

As she sat on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest to keep warm Estelle became aware that she was surrounded by the kind of silence she had never known before.   The white mist was like a thick blanket around the heavy stone arching above her.   The silence seemed to deepen until she could almost touch it.     It settled around her, thick and calm and soft.   Time went by and the silence seemed like it would never end, as if she would always live in silence.  A tiny sound escaped her throat.   The stone walls seemed to receive it gratefully, picking it up gently and holding it in the air.   Her lips moved slightly and another sound emerged, a low hum that rang clearly around her head, gentle and pure as it  floated up to touch the arched roof above.  The next sound she made rang throughout the stone chamber like a bell, sweet and clear and true, soaring upwards and outwards, through the narrow stone door, out into white mist and beyond to the sea.

Estelle’s family had found their dog.     The mist was clearing and they all came together hugging and petting the dog who jumped around barking

‘Where’s Estelle?’  their father demanded.   Everyone started running around and shouting her name at the tops of their voices.   After a few minutes they were starting to panic.  What if she walked over the edge in the mist or fallen and hurt herself and couldn’t call for help?

But then one of them spotted her walking towards them out of the last swirls of the mist.

‘Estelle’, her father said in relief . His voice was hoarse from shouting and he could barely make himself heard.  Her brothers and sisters were hoarse too and they could only whisper her name.  They gathered around and hugged her, hardly making a sound for once.

‘Hi Dad’, said Estelle.  Hi John, Annie, Joseph, Deirdre.   Come on everyone, let’s go home and have breakfast,  I’m starving.’  Her voice rang out as clear as bell. Her family looked at her in amazement,  hardly able to believe their ears. ‘Estelle’, her father croaked.  ‘Estelle,’ her brothers and sisters whispered, ‘you can talk!’

She smiled and skipped away down the path, singing a little song to herself as she went.    ‘You’ll all have to speak up’, she called over her shoulder as she went.  ‘I can hardly hear a word you’re saying.’

Once a long long time ago there was a young boy named Taidgh who was learning to be a fisherman like his father.   Every day they set out from Cola Mhor Harbour under Killiney Hill and spent all day at sea, chasing shoals of fish to cast their nets and bring the slippery silver harvest on board their heavy wooden boat.  Often they fished all day without catching anything.  They were up against the winds and the tides and competition from the other men who fished the same waters.

One day Taigh was sitting in the prow of the boat straining to try and see beneath the waves for a silver glint of fish when he saw something in the water.   At first he thought it was just an old sack floating on the surface but then he saw it was moving as if it was alive.  He grabbed the boat hook and hauled the sack on board.   When he opened it out tumbled a sodden lump of fur that whimpered and trembled..Then a warm pink little tongue licked his fingers and two bright eyes looked up at him, full of trust.  

His father wanted him to toss the puppy back in the sea but Taidgh tucked him inside his shirt, close to his heart where the little creature shivered and nestled against him.  That night Taidgh dipped a corner of his shirt tail in some warm milk and soon the little pup was sucking away.  Taidgh kept him inside his shirt for nearly two weeks until he was strong enough to crouch in the bottom of the boat.  Soon he was able to eat some of the scraps of fish they used for bait and his coat grew thick and glossy and his body grew sturdy and strong.    

The dog came out in the boat every day and after a time Taidgh and his father noticed something remarkable.    He had taken to perching in the very prow of the boat looking down in the depths of the sea.   Occasionally he would bark excitedly, his tail waving as he looked back eagerly at the two behind him.   On a hunch Taidgh started throwing out the nets when the barking started and to their amazement they began hauling in bigger and bigger catches of fish every time the dog gave them the signal.

We’ll call him Pescador’  Taidgh said.   It was a word he remembered from some Spanish fishermen who had once been driven into Cola Mhor by a storm.  ‘Pescador’ they said, pointing to themselves, ‘ Estamos pescadores. ‘ We are fishermen.’

With Pescador’s help Taidgh and his father brought home record catches much to the envy of the other fishermen.   They looked on in wonder as the pair sailed into the harbour each evening with their boat piled high with silver fish.   But one onlooker grew more and more bitter as he saw their good fortune.  Like Taidgh he fished with his father and since the arrival of Pescador their catches had got smaller and smaller.  Each day they went out, in wind and rain and  searched the shallows and the deeps for the telltale flash of fish scales.  But most evenings they came home with little to show for their efforts and Con cursed the day that Pescador has been fished out of the sea to ruin their trade.

His hatred of Taidgh’s dog grew and grew until he hatched a wicked plot to restore their fortunes and banish Pescador for good.

At that time Killiney Hill was a barren, deserted place.  Very few went there by day and none at all by night.  People talked of a witch who guarded the whole hill jealously as her own and lived at the very top in a pointed house in the shape of a witch’s hat.   She avoided humans, the stories went, she was afraid of retribution if she harmed a child, but no animal was safe in her territory.  She hunted at night and rested by day.   Those few who had ventured onto the hill swore there wasn’t a single living creature to be seen, not a bird or a fox or even a mouse.  Although everyone believed in her no one could ever claim to have seen her.  They spoke only of a dark flash in the sky as evening descended and a sudden chill in the air.  

Con bided his time.  He pretended to make friends with Pescador, petting him and praising him and bringing him little treats.   He soon realised that the dog could not resist a piece of cold sausage and soon had won his trust.    One evening just as it was getting dark he made his move.  Taidgh and his father were busy repairing nets and Pescador was waiting patiently on the quayside.  Con fed him tiny pieces of sausage and gradually lured him away along the road  and up towards the hill, tempting him with tasty pieces of sausage just out of of his reach.   As they got to the rough steps cut into the rocks Con looked around nervously.  It was strangely silent, no sound of birdsong, no wind rustling the low scrubby bushes.  Pescador barked eagerly, impatient to get his reward for following Con so far.   The boy took a deep breath and flung the sausage as hard as he could, as far up the rough track as he could get it.  And Pescador bounded forward, barking and sniffing the ground before he disappeared around a bend.  Con was fully expecting him to come charging back after a moment, looking for another treat but minutes went by and there was only silence as the sky grew greyer and night began to fall.  Suddenly a dark shadow shrieked above his head and Con turned and ran as fast as he could, stumbling and jumping over stones and bushes and getting bruised and scratched, all the time imagining he was being chased by a dark presence.

When he got to the bottom of the hill he stopped to get his breath back, shivering and shaking with fear and dread.  He was half hoping to hear the sound of Pescador scrambling after him but even though he waited for long minutes in the dark night the dog did not appear.

The next morning as the fishermen gathered at the harbour to prepare their boats to set sail for the day it was soon clear that something was wrong.   There was no sign of Taidgh or his father and their boat lay unattended.  The fishermen wondered among themselves but eventually set out to sea.  Some of them thought they would do better that day without competition from Pescador but it was a cold miserable day and no matter how many times they cast their nets they came home with miserably few fish to show for their efforts.

As they sailed into the harbour they saw Taidgh and his father standing by their boat looking sad and tired.  ‘Has anyone seen Pescador?’ Taidgh cried as soon as they landed.  ‘He went missing last night and we have searched and searched all day but there is no sign of him.  Has anyone seen him’.  The fishermen gathered round and shook their heads.  In spite of their poor catches since the dog’s arrival they were genuinely sorry to see young Taidgh’s distress.  ‘He’s bound to turn up’, they assured him.  ‘That dog won’t stray far.  He’s too fond of the sea’.  One or two of them glanced anxiously behind them at the Hill and exchanged looks but they said not a word of their fears. Only Con stood apart, staring out to sea with a sullen look on his face.  He couldn’t bring himself to say a word of comfort when he guessed the terrible fate that had  befallen Pescador.

‘Con’, his father called him sharply.   ‘What about you?   Didn’t I see you playing with Taidgh’s dog last night?’  Con shook his head stubbornly, but his cheeks reddened and his eyes filled with tears of shame.   ‘Con’, his father whispered in horror.  ‘Tell the truth, what have you done?’  He knew well the resentment the boy had harboured  towards the innocent creature and he was an honourable man who would not condone any wrongdoing.  It only took a few minutes for Con to admit the truth.   He had deliberately led Pescador up Killiney Hill at night and the animal had disappeared.  A gasp of shock went around the group as he admitted his crime and the older men shook their head in sorrow and pity.

Con’s father led his son in front of Taidgh and his father and bowed his head.  ‘My son has shamed himself and his family and betrayed his community.  We fishermen stick together, our lives can depend on it.  Ours is a hard and dangerous calling and if we cannot trust each other then our lives are worth nothing.  My son has broken our code and in reparation I am going to banish him from here.  He will go and live with my family in the midlands.  He will farm the land and never reap a shining harvest from the sea again.   A sob of anguish escaped Con.  He knew he deserved the punishment but his sea soaked soul recoiled in dread as the prospect of being sent away to a landlocked life.   For a fisherman to turn hard clods of earth and drag crops from the heavy soil instead of skimming fish from a glistening sea was the worst fate imaginable.   How bitterly he regretted his jealousy and crime.

Taidgh saw the look of misery on Con’s face and stepped forward.  ‘No’ he said sadly.   ‘Con has done a terrible wrong but I would not have him sent from this place.   If he will tell me what he knows perhaps I can find a way to get Pescador back and all will be well.’  The boy sank to his knees in gratitude and shame.  He felt he had been given his life back but that he did not deserve it.

One of the older men at the back stepped forward.  ‘It’s an Ceann Ciallmhar you need to speak with’, he counselled.   The Wise One can tell you where to find the poor creature and whether it’s right that you should find him.   It may be better to leave him to his fate’.   Taidgh shook his head stubbornly and looked towards the hill.   It was getting late in the afternoon and the shadows were lengthening but he was determined to set out.    ‘How do I find an Ceann Ciallmhar?’ he demanded.  ‘Where do I look for him?’  The older man shrugged and shook his head.  ‘You don’t’, he said.  ‘You won’t find him for looking.  If he has a mind to, he will find you’,

Despite his father’s protests Taidgh set off up the road towards the hill.  His head was spinning with dread and confusion.   He did not know where he was going or what he was going to find.  Only his heartbreak at the loss of his beloved friend drove him forward.  It was impossible to follow a direct path to the summit.  The going was rough, the slope was stoney with great boulders and deep ditches meaning he had to keep doubling back and losing his sense of direction.    His feet led him down what looked like a rough path and he found himself out on the edge of  the hill looking down at the sea.   Taidgh sank down on a rock and buried his head in his hands.  He had no idea where he was going or how to find the Wise One who could give him directions.   The light was beginning to fade and he shivered in the evening chill.

Then a  faint wisp of scented smoke drifted past him.  It smelt of sage and honeysuckle and he opened his eyes and looked around. A tall whitehaired man with a long white beard was sitting on some rough hewn rocks smoking a long stemmed pipe. He tapped the ashes onto the ground,  filled the bowl again with the sweet smelling tobacco and settled back in the hollow of the rocks.  Taidgh saw that they fitted around him like a great stone seat.  The old man’s eyes narrowed as he blew out another plume of smoke.  Eventually he spoke in a deep rich voice.  ‘Only a very foolish boy or a very brave boy would venture up the hill, especially as the evening draws on’, he said gravely.  ‘So which are you?  Foolish or brave?’

Taidgh shook  his head sadly.  ‘I can’t tell that yet sir.   For Pescador’s sake I would risk alI and if that makes me foolish then I may lose all.   They told me down at the harbour that the Ceann Ciallmhar could tell me where to find him. ‘The old man nodded and tapped his pipe on the stone arm of his seat. He turned and looked towards the summit of the hill.  ‘What the witch has taken she has never yet given up. Her heart is black and hard as stone and courage alone cannot move it.  Turn around and go home while you still can.  Sometimes it is better not to find that which has been lost.’

Taidgh rose to his feet and turned to go.   From behind he heard the Druid’s voice call to him.  ‘Her house forms the very point of the hill,  it is dark as pitch with only one door.  If you knock three times and demand entry she cannot deny you.  Guard your eyes, for there are sights in there that can never be unseen.’

Taidgh headed up the hill as fast he could.  It wasn’t long before he saw the tall shape of the witches house narrowing to a point against the darkening night sky.   He walked around it and found the door.    Taking a deep breath he banged on it hard and cried.

Witch witch open the door

Let me see your wicked face

I have come to take my faithful friend

Away from this terrible place.

Witch witch hear my words

I demand you open the door

I will not leave until you do

I have come for Pescador

Witch witch let me in

I will not be denied

Your black heart knows no love

But mine is true and tried

.

His voice rang out clear and sharp and seemed to linger in the silence that followed his words.  A long moment passed and then slowly, inch by inch the rough black door started to open with a creaking, groaning, sucking,  sound.  All was blackness and silence within. Taidgh took a step forward and pushed the door wider.  A little light penetrated the gloom from outside.  Taidgh stepped further inside and shivered in the chill sour air.   ‘Pescador, Pescador,  are you there’ he whispered venturing further in.   A low moan came from the depths of the darkness within.  Then more cries and whimpers and shuffling sounds as he blinked his eyes to try and adjust to the gloom.

The darkness seemed to be alive with movement, emerging from the shadows as a shapeless mass. What seemed like hundreds of eyes, glinted red in the faint moonlight coming in the door..  ‘Pescador’, he whispered urgently.  ‘Where are you?  Let me take you home’.   Taidgh felt something move against his leg and jumped back in fright.   A hairless, misshapen form was crawling and heaving itself towards him, trying desperately to raise itself on stunted useless legs.  Taidgh shuddered in horror at the sight of the yellow weeping eyes and blackened fangs of the monstrous creature advancing on him.  ‘Get back’, he shouted, wishing he had brought a weapon to defend himself.  ‘Stay away from me’.  The creature halted at the sound of his voice and dropped its head with a moan but keeping its yellow eyes on Taidgh.   The boy hesitated, desperate to escape the danger that seemed to be closing  in on him, but held by something gentle in those weeping eyes that did not match the hideous shape around them.  Torn between disbelief and pity Taidgh whispered, ‘Pescador,  is that you?   Oh what has made you like this?’  The creature moaned again and seemed almost to hang its head in shame, dropping its eyes and sinking to the ground.  Taidgh’s heart swelled with pity at the sight of the poor, deformed creature before him, so utterly changed from the noble, brave animal he loved.  His own tears began to flow freely as he felt the loss of his beloved Pescador, doomed by a witch’s curse to live in darkness and horror.  His previous revulsion was now replaced with pity and grief and he made no attempt to stem the tears that ran down his face and splashed onto the poor beast as he leant towards him.    As the tears touched him, Pescador jumped as though stung, shaking his great form and scattering the drops into hundreds of tiny glowing points that showered the darkness around them.  

Taidgh stumbled backwards, out through the door into the cold darkness and staggered a few steps down the hill until he sank, exhausted and heartbroken onto the damp grass.  A few minutes went by and then he felt something rough and warm licking his hand.   He opened his eyes to see the dear familiar face of Pescador, eyes shining, and tailing wagging as Taidgh threw his arms around his dog, hugging him until the poor beast had to yowl in protest.

It was really him, restored to his old self,  barking and jumping around his owner in excitement.  And not just him.  As Taidgh looked up towards the witch’s house,   the doorway was filled with a stream of animals, cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, even a goat,  pushing and straining to get through,  looking around in wonder at the clear night air,  getting bolder as they tested their freedom and started to venture down the hill.

A wild shrill scream rent the night air and a dark shape appeared overhead, circling above them, in faster and faster circles until, with a great cracking sound, the shape hovered for a moment and then fluttered in slow arcs to the ground in front of Taidgh.

The black shapeless mass settled slowly until the form of a young girl appeared.    She was thin and pale with nightblack long hair and she let out one long sigh as a gentle breeze whispered against her clothes and hair and a whirl of ashes lifted into the air and was borne away leaving nothing but a black stone, shaped like a heart, cracked in half.  

‘She too has been released from her curse’,  said a grave voice behind Taidgh and he turned to see the Ceann Ciallmhor looking down at him.   ‘It took your tears to break it.   Go home now and tell everyone that the witch is dead, her house is gone, and all can safely roam here.’

As Taidgh got the bottom of the hill he saw that the pets who had found their freedom were heading home to be reuinited with their owners, barking, bleating, calling their joy and excitement into the night air.    

When they got to the harbour, his father and several of the fishermen were waiting, roused from their sleep by the animal cries.  Some of them were joined by children, rubbing their eyes with sleep and wonder at the return of a long lost pet.

Taidgh’s father hugged him fiercely, brushing away tears that ran down his rough cheeks.    Con and his father stepped forward and patted him on the back.  Pescador jumped and barked and ran around the harbour in delight.

‘From now on’ Taidgh’s father announced, ‘we will all share the good fortune Pescador has brought us.  He will guide all the boats and we will pool our catches’.

And with Pescador’s help, the fishermen of Cola Mhor harbour became the most successful fishermen on the East Coast.   In time he sired three litters of pups and each generation of his line produced at least one dog who inherited his gift and that one always bore the name ‘Pescador.