There were three chiefs who lived long ago near Kilbaha and they had one sister. The three chiefs each built themselves a castle. The first made his castle at Dun Dallon; the second near Cross, and the third in Carrigaholt. The sister lived with the second chief at his castle in Cross. Not far from this castle, out in the Shannon, there was an island and on it was a beautiful village called Kilsteefeen.
Across the Shannon in Kerry there was a man who had some power of magic. This magician had seen the sister from the top of his high tower and taken quite a fancy to her, and he wanted to bring her to live with him in Kerry. Her brothers were ready to fight to protect her as a prophecy stated that if their sister were to marry, then a great disaster would befall them.
In those times cattle raiding was a common pastime among the tribes. They were all at it, and when one crowd stole away your cattle, there was nothing for it but to go out on an adventure and steal them back, and bring some of their cattle back along with your own. It was great sport altogether!
One day there came a party of thieves, intent on driving away the brothers’ cattle. The three brothers rode out after them, and they left a druid to guard their sister, who was almost as precious to them as their cattle.
The druid worked his protective magic around the sister and the castle where she lived. He chanted and he prayed. He lit a candle and meant to keep it burning while the brothers were away.
Now, the Kerry magician had a few tricks of his own! He had a magical ring that could change colour and tell him about the state of things in the country. He knew by the colour of his ring that the girl’s brothers were away from home. He sent a serpent that circled around, whispering and hissing, and caused the druid to fall asleep. Without his watchful eye, the candle flame faltered and went out. Seeing that the coast was now clear, the Kerry magician got into his boat and made his way over the water to steal away the girl.
The druid woke up with a sudden start, surrounded by darkness. He saw that his protective flame had died. He knew it was the Kerry man’s magic at work, and that he would be already on his way across the water. The druid was furious to have his spell of protection broken. He called on the elements: earth, water, air and fire. He called the powers of the wind and waves to rise up and drown the boat and all within it.
The wind blew strong across the Shannon, growing in strength and fury. The waters answered its call, rising higher and wilder, foaming and spitting as they engulfed the magician’s boat. The Kerry magician uttered curses as his boat was swallowed by the waves. He cursed the wind and the waters. The waves continued to grow fierce and high, until they advanced like a great wall of water towards the shore of the beautiful island of Kilsteefeen. The houses and spires, the cattle and all the people on the island vanished beneath the fury of the waves.
It is said that once every seven years the island rises from the Shannon, and is seen for a day. I would not want to be the one who sees it, for it is unlikely that good fortune is in it.
Where the waters of Liscannor Bay lie today, there was once a beautiful city called Kilstuiffeen. Fishermen have been known to catch the scent of its flowery meadows, or to hear the ringing of bells from its church towers as they sail across the bay, and have lived unharmed to tell the tale. People say it would be a different matter if they caught a glimpse of its shining towers and spires beneath the waves. Anyone who sees the sunken city is doomed to meet their death within the year.
Ruaidhin, Ceannir and Stuiffeen were three bold warrior brothers who lived in the west of county Clare long ago, before the days of the saints. Each brother had his own lands and castle: Ruaidhin’s stronghold was at Moher-Ui-Ruaidhin near Hag’s Head and the Cliffs of Moher; Ceannir’s fort was at Liscannor, and Stuiffeen’s was the famous palace of Kilstuiffeen that once stood where a rocky reef now lies out in the bay between Liscannor and Lahinch.
All three brothers had extraordinary powers, but Stuiffeen had a particular gift. He could draw a veil of invisibility over his golden city at will. If he needed to leave his palace, he could summon up the illusion of deep water and waves to cover it by speaking some words of power. He had a golden key to lock the palace gate behind him and secure his spell in place. Anyone who sought Kilstuiffeen would see only the sea, calm or stormy according to the weather of the day. As the illusion was for their protection, it did not affect those who lived there. Life went on as normal for Kilstuiffeen’s inhabitants underneath the waves.
Being young, strong and hungry for adventure, the three bold brothers rode out one day in search of some sport. They rode as far as the southernmost point of Loop Head, where they found a number of stout long-haired cattle grazing on the grassy shore. The brothers rounded up the cattle and stole them away. The journey back was taking considerably longer as they drove the cattle, who continually wanted to stop and graze on the fine green grass.
Meanwhile, down at Loop Head, there were another three brothers who kept a herd of stout long-haired cattle. When the youngest was sent out early one morning to see if the cattle got water enough, he found a good number of the herd was missing. He saw the grass all ploughed up by horses’ hooves and went running back to tell his brothers. ‘Cattle raiders! They have taken half of our herd, and they are heading north!’ Cattle rustling was the major sport for young men at that time. Quickly, the brothers secured their remaining cattle within an old lios or ringfort. They armed themselves with slings and swords and set off on swift horses, hoping to catch up with the raiders before they could reach the security of their own territory.
The Loop Head brothers rode like the wind. At last they spied Ruaidhin, Ceannir and Stuiffeen, along with the stolen cattle, in an old fort just past Miltown Malbay.
‘Thieves! Blackguards! Did you think you could steal our cattle in the night and get away with it?’ they yelled.
The raiders answered fiercely. First they threw insults at each other, and then they threw stones. Finally swords were drawn, and a bloody battle ensued.
The fighting went on until Ruaidhin, Ceannir and Stuiffeen lay dead on the ground. The brothers from Loop Head rode on to attack the strongholds of Ruaidhin and Ceannir, and to seize what plunder they could find in recompense for their troubles. They gathered up their cattle and drove them home. They would have raided Kilstuiffeen also, had its master not secured the gates with his golden key, rendering the palace invisible under the waves.
The golden key was lost that day. Some say it lies under the grave of Conan Maol on Mount Callan, but no key was found there when the grave was opened. Others say it was lost on the road to Liscannor, and that on the day it is found there Lahinch will be drowned. Others say an angry woman threw it into a lake on Mount Callan, where a monster swallowed it.
As the key has not yet been rediscovered, so Kilstuiffeen remains concealed today in Liscannor Bay, and its good people continue to live out their lives beneath the sea. They go about their business just as other folks do. Nothing from the world above disturbs them, except perhaps when a fisherman sends down his hook and line and accidentally catches up their dinner.
One day, two brothers named St Ledger went out from Liscannor in their boat fishing. They were having no luck; nothing was biting, so they rowed out further into the bay. At last they felt a strong pull on their line, and began to haul it in. What they had caught was a big side of bacon and three potatoes, tied up in a linen cloth with a handwritten message attached. The message said, ‘Clear for the shore. We are coming up!’
The men rowed as fast as they could, and just as they drew the boat up onto the shore, the tide suddenly went out. When they looked behind them, they saw Kilstuiffeen. They saw the golden roof of the palace, and the tall towers, and the ordinary houses of the people. They saw cattle grazing, and men going about their work and women spinning.
The brothers planted the potatoes they had brought up from beneath the waves and they got enormous yields from them. Those spuds spread all over the district and were known as ‘Sallingers’, after the men who found them.
Inchiquin Lake, near Corofin, is one of the largest lakes in County Clare, but it may not always have been a lake.
There was once a castle belonging to Lord Inchiquin that stood right where the lake now sits. Not too far from the castle there was a well which provided good clear waters for the household. Every morning Lord Inchiquin would go to the well to drink. One morning, when he went for water, he saw a beautiful woman standing near the well. He fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. She told him she couldn’t because she was not of his world, but was a fairy. He was very sad to hear this, and went home with a heavy heart. He sat all day thinking about her.
Next day he went to the well and the same fairy woman was there. He asked her again to marry him and this time she consented. After a few days they were married. They had two children, a girl and a boy. The father was very fond of his wife and two children, but he was also very fond of hunting. One day, when he was going hunting, his wife told him to come back alone if he loved her. He came back alone to please her. Next day she told him the same thing but this time he was frightened and brought back some of his huntsmen with him. When his wife saw that he did not come back alone, she thought he did not love her. She was very angry and, taking her two children, she returned to her own world. Before she left, she cast a spell over the well so that the water in it began to rise up. Soon it had reached the top of the well, then it overtopped it and began flowing out across the land. The water continued to flow from the well until it covered the castle and the land around it. It is said that the top of the castle can be seen on a calm day. From then on the lake was called Lake Inchiquin after the Lord Inchiquin.
There is another tale concerning the formation of Lake Inchiquin. Before there was a lake or a castle or anything else there, a hurling field stood on the site of Lake Inchiquin. Boys used to come from all around the area to play hurling matches there. One day, there was a big crowd of lads playing hurling. The match was passionately contested and soon they began to quarrel when one of them had hit another. One said the other tripped him up on purpose; the other denied it. Voices were raised and fists were out, as the quarrel got louder and louder.
There was an old woman who lived in a cave on the side of Clifden Hill. She was sitting there, working at her knitting and minding her own business, when the sound of the boys’ fighting caught her attention. She got up from her rocking chair and, with her knitting under her arm, she went marching down to see what was the cause of all the noise. Finding the boys still fighting with each other, she shouted at them crossly to stop it at once.
When the boys paid her no heed and just kept on with their sport, the old woman took out one of her knitting needles and stuck it deep into the ground. When she pulled the needle out again, up sprang a well full of water. It spouted up into the air, and ran bubbling over the ground, rising higher and spreading further until it covered the whole field.
That was how Inchiquin Lake was made.
There was a woman who was on her way to Limerick, carrying big baskets of eggs and butter and a number of chickens to sell at the market. She was walking along by Cullaun Lake, when a big, wide road opened up in the middle of the lake. The water just rolled away to the two sides, like Moses parting the Red Sea! The woman saw a good surfaced road, and she thought it would shave some time off her journey if she took the road across the lake, rather than walking around it. She was crossing the lake when a strange woman appeared before her and asked, ‘Where are you going?’
She told her, ‘I am on my way to the market in Limerick to sell my eggs, butter and chickens.’
The strange woman said, ‘Come along with me. I’ll take you where you’ll get a good price for your goods.’
The woman led her to a town under the water. The streets were wide and the houses tall and broad, and brightly coloured. There was a market square at the centre of the town where she soon sold her eggs, butter and chickens, and got gold sovereigns in return.
The strange woman appeared at her side again saying, ‘It is late now. You would be best to stop here for the night.’ She held out a hand to lead her to the steps of a grand house with pillars at the door.
The woman agreed she would walk no further that night, and consented to stay. The people there entertained her that night with stories, music and dancing, and they gave her the finest of food to eat. She slept that night in a four-poster bed in that grand house under the water.
When the morning came, I do not know what became of her, for she was never seen or heard of again in the area. It may be that she is still living happily in that lovely town under Cullaun Lake.
Way back in the good old days, poets, storytellers and bards were admired and feared by the chiefs and masters. Bards enjoyed the patronage of kings. They could stay in the palace and they’d be well looked after for as long as they were there. They might dine at the king’s table; be provided with the finest clothes; and enjoy privileges and perks granted to few others. All they had to do was tell stories and poems that made their patrons sound good and powerful. If a bard made a satire mocking his patron, however, the chief or king’s reputation could be ruined. As a result, the bards might have been the most influential people in the country, a bit like the media today, and how they ‘spin’ a story influences people’s opinions. Of course, the bards spent many years learning the stories that explained how the world had come to be the way it was, how places had got their names, and how to make poems that praised the worthy and satires that ridiculed the unworthy.
One time, King Connor Mac Nessa had a poet in his court in Ulster who went by the name of Aithirné the Importunate. Aithirne used to ask for all manner of difficult things, which Connor Mac Nessa was obliged to provide.
It was a quiet time in Ulster, with nothing much in the way of battles to be recorded in praise poems, so King Connor sent his talented yet scornful poet throughout the land of Ireland to sing praises to the other kings and princes in return for which, honour demanded, the poet could ask for whatever he wanted. If a prince refused even his most insolent demand it would give good reason for a battle.
Aithirné travelled throughout the country and came at last to the place where the provinces of Connacht and Munster met, near what is now called Mountshannon. Eochaidh Mac Luachta, King of Mid-Erinn, had a stronghold there overlooking the Shannon. Aithirné presented himself at Eochaidh’s gates. ‘I am come to sing praises to Eochaidh, lord of this place. Will you let me in to entertain you?’
The gates opened and the poet was led before the king. Servants brought water for him to bathe, and fine silks to dress himself after his long journey. A feast was prepared for him and he was made most welcome. Eochaidh called a gathering and all the people from miles around came to hear the Ulster bard proclaim. Aithirné created wonderful poetry for Eochaidh, praising his generosity and his hospitality, and then demanded his price.
‘You are bound by obligation to pay me whatever I ask. Do you swear to keep this agreement, King Eochaidh?’
‘I understand my obligation. Name your price and I swear I will meet it,’ said the king.
‘Then I demand, Eochaidh, in payment for my praises, an eye from out your head.’
The assembled crowd gasped in shock when they heard this unreasonable demand. After all, Eochaidh had only one eye as it was, his other being lost in a battle. The king, not wishing to call a war upon his people, nor be seen as ungracious nor inhospitable, obliged. With his own hand he plucked out his one remaining eye and handed it, dripping with blood, to the greedy and prideful poet. ‘I honour my debts, bard. Remember that when you sing of me.’
Now that Eochaidh was blind, his good servant led him to the water’s edge so he could bathe the wound. Kneeling down on the lough shore, he wrung out the cloth he had used to wash away the gore.
‘Oh master!’ cried the distressed servant. ‘The water is all red with your blood!’
‘Then let this lake bear that as its name, in memory of this day and this deed. Let it now be known as “Lough Derg Dheirc”, the Lake of the Red Eye, from this day to the day the Shannon no longer runs to the sea.’
So, as the Shannon continues to flow to the sea, the lake is still known today as Lough Derg.
The Three Chiefs and their Sister: SFS (1937-38) Arthur McGuire, Cross, told to Patrick McGuire, Kilkee, Boys School Kilkee, p.205.
The Sunken City of Kilstuiffeen: John O’Donovan & Eugene Curry, The Antiquities of County Clare (Clasp Press; Ennis, 2003), p.95; SFS, Aine ni Caisey, Lahinch; Thomas O’Brien, Lahinch; Brigid Collins from John Murphy, Glann, Enistymon.
The Fairy Maid of Inchiquin Lake: SFS (1937-38) Michael O Kennedy, Frances St Ennis, Scoil na m Brathar, Ennis, p.155.
Never Disturb a Woman at her Knitting: SFS (1937-38) Mary Kenny, Bankyle, Corofin, reel 178. (I just loved this because I love knitting!)
The Lake of the Red Eye: adapted from Patrick Kennedy’s ‘The Progress of the Wicked Bard’ in Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts (Macmillan and Company, 1891).