OAK ST HDSF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 From the oollection of 
 James Collins, 
 Drumcondra, Ireland. 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 
 823 
 
 C844w 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/weirdofthesilkenOOcrai 
 
THE WEIRD OF ‘THE SILKEN THOMAS" 
 
 AN EPISODE OF ANGLO-IRISH HISTORY. TO- 
 GETHER WITH SOME ROMANTIC ACCOUNT 
 OF THE HUMBLER HISTORY (BUT GREATER 
 HAPPINESS) OF MARTYN BARUK FALLON , 
 SCRIVENER , AND CRIPPLE, SOMETIME UN- 
 OFFICIALLY IN THE FOLLOWING OF THE 
 FITZGERALDS, IN THEIR TOWN OF MAY - 
 NOOTH, IN IRELAND. 
 
 A.D. 1532 TO 1537 
 
THE WEIRD OF 
 “THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 AN EPISODE OF ANGLO-IRISH HISTORY 
 
 R. MANIFOLD-CRAIG 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 4 THE SACRIFICE OF FOOLS,” “a WIDOW WELL LEFT,” “ ALL TRUMPS,” “ LANTT 
 RIORDAN’s RED LIGHT,” “A TORN-OUT PAGE ” (COLLABORATION), 
 
 “lady Salome’s silver wedding,” etc. etc. 
 
 ABERDEEN 
 
 MORAN & CO. 
 
 408 UNION STREET 
 I9°0 
 
PRINTED BY COWAN AND CO., LIMITED, PERTH 
 
2>eMcateD to 
 
 HIS GRACE, THE DUKE OF LEINSTER, 
 
 BY PERMISSION OF HIS UNCLES, 
 
 LORD FREDERICK FITZGERALD, 
 
 AND 
 
 LORD WALTER FITZGERALD. 
 
Lord Thomas FitzGerald’s Inscription : 
 
 “AS YT IS TAKYr ” 
 
 That is : 
 
 “Take things as they are,— as they come.” 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 72, last line, for “Just when his ard d putation ” etc., read 
 “Just when this hard deputation” etc. 
 
 Page 53, line 8, should read, “ I was borne” etc. 
 
 Page 204, line 28, for “roll ” read “ rolls.” 
 

 
 
THE WEIRD OF 
 “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST 
 
 HOW THE STORY OF MURTAGH ENROUSED MARTYR THE 
 CRIPPLED SCRIVENER, TO THE ZEAL OF WRITING THE 
 HISTORY AND MATTER OF THE FITZGERALDS OF HIS 
 TIME, ESPECIALLY OF HIS OWN MAIMING 
 
 As I, Martyn Fallon, the scrivener, sat this morning at my 
 windore, crippled as I am by the old trouble of the back, 
 the wondrous man who hath been my close friend for the 
 years of my ailing, said in half-tones to my dear Aunt 
 Vimbela, of the sweet voice : 
 
 “ Doth Martyn know, Vimbela ? ” 
 
 My aunt, with . a hasty look at me, shook her head for 
 the answer : “ Nay.” 
 
 Then Murtagh was silent for a time. But at the last, 
 slowly rising (and as he passed by the ladder to his room 
 above), he said : 
 
 “ Tell him ! ” 
 
 A 
 
2 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 With some delay (and some unwillingness, as it seemed 
 to me), my aunt told me of Murtagh. 
 
 The habit with many in our county is to speak of my 
 friend as “ Mad Murtagh.” Verily, were it true in the 
 very littlest that any madness abode in him, it would only 
 be because of his “ much learning,” as was said aforetime 
 of the Blessed and Holy Saint Paul ! 
 
 But of all the Saints in the Calendar, his favourite was 
 the Holy Forerunner, St. John. To him Murtagh likened 
 himself as much as might be, in all his ways and teachings. 
 He loved loneliness in the wilderness so greatly that we 
 had some strain of urgence to win him from dwelling in 
 the woods, where he had no company but the little Jacob 
 Ranstraw, of whom more anon. And because he could 
 not attain unto raiment of camels’ hair, he was clad in the 
 skins of goats. 
 
 By about the time which I have passed in the telling of 
 so much of my quaint friend, Vimbela had paused after 
 sitting by the side of my couch. 
 
 Then she obeyed the command of Murtagh ; and told 
 me what here followeth, which is his story of himself to 
 her. 
 
 Murtagh, he of the sad and beautiful face, was, she said, 
 the offspring, without wedlock, of a Butler of Ossory, who 
 had won to his purpose one who loved much, that was the 
 niece of a priest in that part. 
 
 When the unhappy Oona gave him birth, she was alone 
 by the Cill Dara, or Church of the Oak, from which the 
 county takes name. And, as lacking proper help, or by 
 the bitterness of her shame, she died. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 3 
 
 And well-nigh dead, too, was the little one, when the 
 poor priest, wandering in search of his dead brother’s child, 
 found the babe wrapped in her garment, and lying, cold, 
 upon her cold bosom. 
 
 The priest flung himself upon his trembling knees, first 
 to pray in a few words, and then to curse the family of the 
 seducer. But the frail infant, moved with hunger, feebly 
 raised three fingers, and seemed to look up into the sky. 
 
 Thereupon the priest cried aloud : 
 
 “ Out of the mouth of a babe, O Lord ! have I to learn 
 that the Vengeance is Thine ? ” 
 
 He took the living child home, and speedily gave it 
 warm milk, watered, and with honey. Laying it at such 
 peace as he could contrive, he returned for the poor 
 mother’s body. The same was decently interred in a spot 
 near to a sacred well, in the oak copse. 
 
 The child was exceeding frail and thin until his eleventh 
 year. He was ever fond of solitude. He was a lover of 
 animals. It was a vast wonder how they all— the wildest 
 to others— came to his hand ! 
 
 Books, too, were his delight. And for bodily exercises 
 he gave many hours of every day. 
 
 He could repeat all the prophecies of Columkille, and 
 the other seers. He so studied the faces and the voices of 
 men and women, that he seemed to read their inmost 
 thoughts. My aunt’s much older sister (a nun at heart, 
 but never veiled because of family duty) had been 
 Murtagh’s nurse. Truly he loved us all. 
 
4 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 When the priest judged him old enough, he told him 
 the story. 
 
 Murtagh sprang to his feet, and called for the name of 
 the abominable destroyer of his mother, so that he might 
 slay him ! 
 
 “ Ah, he is thy father ! ” whispered the priest. 
 
 “ He is no more my father, for his safety, than I am 
 his son in his mind, and by his acknowledgment and 
 honours ! ” shouted Murtagh : “ I shall slay him ! ” 
 
 “ My poor son ! ” murmured the priest, “ I was of that 
 mind when I found thee, fifteen years ago ! But the Sign 
 of the Blessed and Holy Trinity upon thy feeble and tiny 
 fist warned me to commit the revenge to God. Do so 
 thou thyself, also. He will repay ! ” 
 
 So Murtagh bowed his head, and made the Sign of the 
 Holy Cross. Thenceforward, a Butler was safe from 
 Murtagh, although he would not hold much of converse 
 with them. 
 
 But all his loyal love was at all times for the Geraldines. 
 
 There was not a power he had (or an use to which he 
 could apply the thoughts of him held by the people), but it 
 was at the service of the great family of Maynooth. 
 
 Indeed, the one other ruling motion of his soul was his 
 love for that same Aunt Vimbela who drew her narrative 
 of our friend to an end with a sigh — with a warning to 
 keep the secret which had been trusted to me ; and with a 
 kiss upon my brow, as she asked me could she in any wise 
 serve me ? 
 
 To which I answered with a smile, and : “ Nay, sweet 
 aunt ! ” But my sympathies were with my dear friend, 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 5 
 
 Murtagh of the goat-skins, whose sad and solitary ways 
 seemed of more reason for this explication at his desire. 
 
 Having meditated so much of Murtagh, my thoughts 
 have turned somewhat in upon myself, that used to be the 
 strong and swift companion of him, and of the young Lord 
 Thomas, the eldest son of our noble Earl of Kildare, in all 
 sports, and toils, and exercises. Even at that good time of 
 my strength, the task of accompts and figures was neither 
 dry nor irksome to me. Also (as I know one who can 
 relieve the head pain by a long casting-up of totalments — 
 so) the work of scrivenery hath been my best resource in 
 the weariness of my bedridden time. Yes ! that labour of 
 pen-wagging — a terror to some — hath oftentimes been my 
 restful dreamland, wherein pain ceaseth, or, at the least, is 
 clean forgot for the moment. 
 
 “ In the days of my strength ! ” 
 
 It is a sad wording. For then had my young Lord but 
 one rival with long-bow, or cross-bow — one whom this poor 
 writer cannot with modesty name. But, ’od’s sooth ! I 
 owe nothing of grath to that new art of shoulder-gunning. 
 Many raids upon the herds and the homes of the Lord 
 Earl’s enemies had safely meant fat meat and clairtie wine 
 for us ; and the greatest woe I had ever known had been 
 the swinging fall that came of holding on too long, or, 
 more truly, too briefly, to a young bull’s tail ; or the 
 wallowing in a bog- ditch, because that pursuit had been too 
 eager. Thereat, none laughed merrier than he that fell ! 
 
 But, forsooth, needs must my Lord Thomas call upon 
 me to thunder off his great shoulder-gun at a murthering 
 
6 
 
 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 bull which he had wounded, and much enraged, with his 
 cross-bow. It may be, as they say, that I held the Devil’s 
 pointing-engine ungainly. I know not. But this I do 
 know : the bull himself had been a gentler visitor at my 
 breast-bone than the wood end of the hand-cannon was 
 when the finger-rod yielded. The bull, I record, fell dead, 
 headlong. 
 
 Yet it was by some displacement of my back in the fall, 
 and not by the blow itself, that I had greatest hurt. To 
 this day, for all of blood-letting, and red-hot irons, and 
 toad’s blood, and starvation, and all that wise women and 
 doctoring priests could do at the time, I have not taken 
 again my strength ; and I see only small hope thereof 1 
 
 To be sure, when the great Chirurgeon, Donough, son 
 of Owen (called in general “ O’Donlevy ”) died, in the 
 September of a.d. 1527, and his successor wrote to my 
 Lord, making tender of his services to him, his family, and 
 followers — I little thought, as I draughted my Lord’s reply, 
 how I myself should, first of us all, be beholden to his 
 Honour of pestle and porringer ! And that within three 
 years, too. But my Lord Thomas would not hear less 
 than that the cunning man should be sent for. 
 
 “ Would that we could only get the mighty Linacre him- 
 self to seek repair mine injury of you, my good and dear 
 Martyn ! ” he said. 
 
 So that, at large charges too, the learned successor of 
 Donough came, and by day and night for a week he 
 physicked and mauled. To my utter outwearying, but to 
 none effect in benefit. Even otherwise. 
 
 And so I am Martyn Baruk Fallon, Scrivener, and 
 cripple — at your service ! — unto this day; 
 
CHAPTER THE SECOND 
 
 IN WHICH MARTYN BARUK FALLON, THE CRIPPLED SCRI- 
 VENER, ESSAYETH TO STIFLE HIS DISCONTENT BY 
 FURTHER RECORDING HIS OBSERVATIONS OF MURTAGH, 
 LORD T. FITZGERALD, AND THE BARD, O’NELAN. 
 
 It is the 8th August, in the year of our Salvation, one 
 thousand five hundred and thirty-two. 
 
 I, the crippled clerk, Martyn Fallon, do sit at my windore, 
 and look out upon the market-place of the town of 
 Maynooth. 
 
 My Lord Earl of Kildare, son of Garret More, the great 
 earl, hath this day come back to Ireland in high honour 
 and authority. And his own town, this Maynooth, is 
 holding high revels to welcome him. 
 
 If I do let to pass so great and memorable an occasion 
 for the beginning of mine intended writing, I am forever 
 likely to lack as good. It is the Lord Earl’s third return in 
 triumph, and the greatest of them all. 
 
 “ Mad Murtagh,” as the gifted man is called, is declaim- 
 ing to the people, clad in his strange, savage dress of 
 goat-skins. 
 
 “ If ye cheer,” crieth he, “ let it be in all moderation. 
 Rejoice with trembling ! At a near day it may be yours 
 to wail and weep. I, who love the dog of a Geraldine, do 
 
 7 
 
8 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 advertise ye that even this day is a season for the chuckling 
 of the Earl's cunning enemies. It is the day for the fears 
 of the wise amongst those who are friendly to him. His 
 Lordship's best friends will give him the softest wel- 
 come." 
 
 A circle is made around Murtagh and voices call loudly 
 for his meaning. In one mood the kernes fear Murtagh 
 as a prophet and miracle worker; whilst more openly they 
 affect to slight him as one crazed. But for a while the looks 
 of all fall away from Murtagh. My Lord Thomas, of the 
 FitzGeralds, companied by O’Nelan, the bard of the family, 
 moves towards the gathering. 
 
 With a smile for all, he meets a hundred smiles. He is 
 beloved exceedingly. 
 
 My brother Charles, the junior priest (who hath been 
 acolyte in the Chapel of my Lord since first he could swing 
 a censor, and who is now private cleric there), he keepeth 
 all household accompts with mine unofficial aid. He hath 
 ever informed me that my Lord Thomas is still all that may 
 be of rarely gifted for his twenty years, and hath a great 
 grath and consideration for Murtagh. 
 
 This last opinement, at all events, is even now confirmed 
 to mine own eyes as I sit here at my windore. For as the 
 people doff their bag-caps, or pull the forelocks of their 
 unkempt hair, my young Lord, so tall, so personable, so 
 amicable of countenance, and so splendid of habiliment 
 because of the great and hopeful occasion, doth raise a 
 hand. All are as silent as the satisfied lambs that have let 
 fall the empty and limp dugs. 
 
 “ Please ye, good my people," he saith, in words which 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 9 
 
 roll full and rich to my windore ; “ be advertised on this 
 happy occasion, when my Lord and dear father returneth 
 for the third time from answering for himself before the 
 English King and Council, that my friend Murtagh shall 
 have such a good hearing as one is worthy of who is the 
 friend of you all ; too many faithful words hath he uttered 
 in our hearings. None were ever for malice or injustice to 
 man or beast ! ” 
 
 A murmur runs among the people : “ Yea ! heed the 
 young Lord ! A hearing for Murtagh ! ” 
 
 “ Murtagh of the goat-skins ! ” saith a woman-voiced, old, 
 wizened man that feared Murtagh ; whereat the people 
 laugh. 
 
 But one discordance is there. 
 
 “ Why hear the crazy carlin, good my Lord ? ” saith a 
 surly voice. “ He hath but evil to promise, and (to believe 
 him) this festival of thy noble father’s third return is but 
 the beginning of evil days for us.” 
 
 “ Peace, Patrick Cannon ! ” saith Lord Thomas, in sterner 
 tones than it is his wont to use. “ We may not know all 
 the future as regards faith and service from thee and thine ; 
 but a Geraldine is on solid ground when he dealeth with 
 Murtagh.” 
 
 Then Cannon scowleth, and slinketh away, much groaned 
 at ; and the people having heaved Murtagh roughly, but 
 kindly, and for a wider hearing, upon a cart, the prophet 
 openeth his speech thus : 
 
 “ My Lord Thomas, after that I have commended myself 
 dutifully unto thee, I bid God’s speed to this jovial and 
 loving company. Verily, I wish thee and them all joy of 
 
10 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 the day that is in it, and all the happiness of your Lordship 
 his presence with them. 
 
 “ Beshrew me, sir, if I have even the smallest desire to 
 put a gloom on the morning which bringeth home, in his 
 plenitude of power, the noble Earl, our mighty Lord and 
 master. It will indeed be of good to the sore eyes to see 
 him once more, so far as I may speak personal of thy loved 
 father, our high patron and friend. 
 
 “ But it hath been borne in upon me in the whispers of 
 them that watch by me in the night that both he and we 
 should now have a care, because of the very smoothness of 
 the way ! It is a cruel fate, I fear me, which hath stretched it 
 deceptfully before his feet. It is fair-seeming, but treacher- 
 ous, like a thin ice on a deep bog-sludge. 
 
 “That is my message, good my Lord.” 
 
 “ Man ! 99 crieth O’Nelan, the Harper of the Geraldines, 
 “ why should we any longer give open lugs to thine un- 
 reason and thy maunderings ? Say, what time of returning 
 of our Lord Earl is this current ? ” 
 
 “ The third, Bard ! 99 shout many triumphing voices. 
 
 The Harper often taught the people by these questions. 
 Murtagh is silent. 
 
 “ Ye say rightly. He first went to England, for account 
 of his doings by the malice of his jealous enemies, in the 
 spring of the year one thousand five hundred and nineteen. 
 He first returned at the same season of the year twenty-one. 
 And how had he passed the two years ? He that went as 
 a culprit under charges was continued in the Sassenach 
 country as a cousin of kings. As the frost upon the spider’s 
 web melteth down before the sun, from semblance of fern^ 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 11 
 
 leaf and lace to diamond beads, so vanished all wherewith 
 the jealousy of his peers or the malice of the Cardinal 
 could attaint the Lord Earl.” 
 
 The people thrill to the passionate words of the Bard ; 
 and a shout of praise rings clear out of the silence. 
 
 “ But was there not more ? ” querieth the speaker. 
 
 “ At that gorgeous meeting, which, for its magnificence, 
 men called the Field of the Golden Cloth, who was their 
 Lily, with more than a Solomon’s glory; their Rose, even 
 amongst the rose-garden of the English, and others ? Even 
 he whom jealous foes whilome wished to shorten by a head, 
 as they would a thistle before seeding-time, lest it should 
 sow a farther casting of mischief?” 
 
 Only the soft murmuring of the people’s praises. 
 
 “ Nay ! ” shouteth O’Nelan, “ I but trifle, giving time to 
 these mere gauderies. For did not our Lord the King take 
 the Earl, then a widow-man by the loss of the tender Lady- 
 mother of his Lordship, here present, and give him to wife 
 the noble Lady his present beloved spouse, she being His 
 Majesty’s own cousin, the Lady Elizabeth Grey ! Two 
 years thereafter he was Deputy. 
 
 “ Well, and why should I weary the winds with the story 
 which even the birds on the roof do know ? 
 
 “ In the year ’twenty-seven he was hailed again to 
 London, and had the cold comfort of London Tower. 
 Then, too, had he the bluffings of my Lord Cardinal ; and 
 the digestion of the reports sent after him by Alen, the 
 Archbishop, and eke the namesake, who was Chancellor. 
 Yet Lammastide of the year of Grace, ’thirty, saw him again 
 back, and all Dublin and its Council laying a fulsome 
 
12 
 
 THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 welcome at his feet Why, Martyn Fallon, the scrivenery- 
 man, gave me sight of a fair copy of Sir William Skeffing- 
 ton’s speech, in reply to Recorder Fitzsimons, when the 
 same gave welcome to the Lord Earl upon the Green at 
 St. Mary’s Abbey. Therein did Sir William 1 beslaver the 
 very grass at the Earl’s feet with his praises and his professed 
 love. Yet at the Easter of this year of Our Lord, present, 
 the foolish jealousy of that same Skeffington, and others, 
 took the Earl of Kildare to London. Lo ! this hath been 
 the shortest sojourn of all. Each one of his enemies hath 
 gone down before him, Cardinal and officer alike ! In 
 July last of this current year he was named Deputy in the 
 room of his treacherous enemy ; and we are here, for the 
 glory of his third, his greatest home-coming, this happy 
 August day. 
 
 “ Whereupon — and this shall be mine excuse for a so- 
 tedious homily — our well-intending neighbour, Murtagh, 
 hath taken occasion to put a skeleton at your feast ! 
 
 “ Judge between us this hour ! I have spoken ! ” 
 
 I shall not, in all my days, forget that scene ! 
 
 The people had been played upon by the Harper, even 
 as he playeth upon his harp. A cheer rent the air. Many 
 threw up their pointed caps. Not a few waved branches 
 and coloured cloths. 
 
 The cart upon which dear Murtagh stood swayed in the 
 moving of the crowd, which my Lord Thomas FitzGerald 
 (or-wise Lord Offaly) perceiving, he stepped alongside, and 
 said : 
 
 A copy of this speech is given in an Appendix. 
 
THE WEIRD OF €t THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 13 
 
 “Thou hast not the poetical gifts of the great Bard, 
 good Murtagh. But thine affection to us-ward, the family 
 of my dear Lord and loved father, is as well known unto us 
 as even the name of O’Nelan himself. Hast thou aught to 
 say upon this history which he hath so movingly told us 
 for the edifying and remembering of the young about us ? 
 Say on, then, but briefly, for I have somewhat of good 
 cheer to offer for the fuller memory of the day.” 
 
 Then at last, when the people had moved back from the 
 cart, save two, which sat upon the yoke-bars to save the 
 same from tilting, Murtagh made ready to speak. Slowly 
 he let fall his arms that had been folded ; slowly 
 he raised his face, which had hung downwards. One great 
 cloud was passing with a mighty state and slowness across 
 the Lammastide firmament. 
 
 The silence even might have been felt. 
 
 Some trembled. A woman crooned a little to her un- 
 resting infant. The Harper leaned forward, more frowning 
 in awe and wonder, than sneering as in his whilome pride 
 of eloquence. 
 
 The twittering of a hedge-sparrow seemed impious. 
 One almost looked around with blame of the small fowl. 
 
 As for me, my frail heart throbbed at mine ears. And 
 Murtagh, with hand and face now both upraised, began : 
 
 “ I see, albeit with eyes that are not mine own ; and 
 what I see is death and blood ! 
 
 “ I see, and lo ! trust is met with treachery. 
 
 “ I hear great swelling words of triumph ; but they fade 
 off into echoes of despair ; and the moans of hearts that 
 are broken in pieces.” 
 
14 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS M 
 
 Murtagh paused ; his ecstatic gaze ended. Rubbing his 
 eyes, as though to wipe off some evil vision, he looked 
 gently around with a sad smile, and murmured in soft tones, 
 which yet seemed better to reach my windore than the 
 practised loudness of the Bard : 
 
 “ Welcome the Lord Earl. But let it be as one that, 
 for all his great deserts, is only favoured for the moment by 
 the powers of weak and most erring humanity. Have 
 dutiful pride in his honours, more than all of which he 
 hath well deserved. But remember whence they have 
 come. Good water floweth not from a polluted spring. 
 
 “ But, solemnest of all, I conjure you listen (you who have 
 the Earl’s ear) to this last word. Aforetime, my Lord of 
 Kildare could blame for his troubles a jealous minister, or 
 a rival in violent deed. But in the time to come he will 
 have only himself to blame. His old and avowed foes are 
 out of his way ; but of a truth they were not his worst ! ” 
 
 What further Murtagh might have said I know not. 
 
 But at this point a sound of cheering was heard at a 
 distance. From the farthest turn of the road some youths 
 came running at great speed. As soon as their shouting 
 could reach, they were heard telling that the Earl’s calva- 
 cade was within sight. 
 
 Then Murtagh stepped lightly down from the cart and 
 disappeared. 
 
 But, in a loud voice, Lord Thomas cried out : 
 
 “ For celebrating the return of the noble Earl of Kildare 
 as Lord Deputy of Ireland, an ox will be roasted whole in 
 the market-place this evening, whereon I pray that you and 
 yours will sup at eight of the clock ! ” 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS " 15 
 
 In the time of one minute, the market-place was as 
 
 I^r hOUrSaSabUbble0f ^ I was left to 
 
 Then came the slaughterers and kitchenmen and scullions 
 rom the Castle. They bore wood and turf and a coal of 
 
 mng fire before a great carcase of an ox, as promised for 
 the roasting whole. 
 
 And, indeed, their doing* had to content me for mine 
 amusement, inasmuch as my Lord went away to , he Castle 
 «her„,se than through the maike, -place; and I saw him 
 
 Later, a heavy rain and thunderstorm coming on, the 
 flesh being less than one half roasted, extinguished the fire 
 
 wlTd r 'T m T which ’ besides - was Sm "' M 
 
 befouled by smoke. So many fled supperless home but 
 some hacked joints and portions off for use at their own 
 
 There was much roystering around the countryside that 
 evening, and some quarrelling, too, I ween. 
 
 But of all the remembrances of the day upon which I 
 made this writing, none dwelleth more deenlv 1 
 •ban the bearing forth of a strong man 
 the sweating sickness; or, it mav be th» i i • f 
 
 Of Mad Murtagh, as he cried on, that L saw! ^ JJT* 
 death, and blood ! ” y b ood — 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRD 
 
 A DULL HISTORY OF WHY THE EARLS OF KILDARE HAD 
 BEEN SO OFTEN HAILED TO ENGLAND, ALWAYS COMING 
 BACK IN RENEWED CREDIT. BUT IT IS ENLIVENED, 
 NEARING THE END, WITH WORD OF LORD THOMAS 
 AND HIS BETROTHAL TO THE DEMOISELLE, FRANCES 
 FORTESCUE. SO THAT A PATIENT READER HAD AS 
 WELL TO WRASTLE WITH IT 
 
 The Junior Priest at the Castle, my good brother Charles, 
 doth find his cheer in acquainting me of all that falleth out 
 in the family, standing at my bedside, whiles that I cast up 
 his tallies and expendings. 
 
 It is now the morning after the Earl’s home-coming, and 
 in the ordering, providing, preparing, and accompting of the 
 past week, he is well-nigh distraught 
 
 For compensation of that great injury to my back, of 
 which I have before given some account, I have, and may 
 be let again to boast of it, some skill in accompts, and I 
 easily help Charles. 
 
 Upon this third returning (no less !) from the heckling of 
 the King, his Councillors, in London, it is thought that the 
 Earl is a mightily changed man. 
 
 He is soured, beyond the risings of an ordinary enmity, 
 
 by the secrecy and treachery of the form in which men who 
 
 16 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 17 
 
 had lushed at his board had prepared the charges against 
 him. 
 
 Within half a day of L his arrival he hath deposed 
 Archbishop Alen from his office of Chancellor. 
 
 The same had been his enemy, his spy ; and had been, 
 further, domestic Chaplain to Wolsey. 
 
 But, in sooth, it were small marvel that the Earl should be 
 thus changed, and thus severe in power. 
 
 The working of affairs to which men are customed in 
 England differeth from their conditions here, abroad, in 
 Ireland. 
 
 The English Pale — by command — affecteth the dress, 
 language, and laws of England. True ! 
 
 But can a land of many kings aforetime, now in these 
 ends of days, forget the practice of skirmish and raid, the 
 right to war upon an offending rival or an unallied holder 
 of rich lands, and flocks, and herds, houses and chattels ? 
 
 And with Princeship in the Lord Earl's blood, with 
 rivalries for an heritage, told him in the words in which he 
 learned human speech — shall the Earl be blamed that he 
 harried the lands of Ossory ? or any Geraldine who heads a 
 few gallowglasses in a scamper after a Butler? I trow 
 not ! 
 
 Now, forsooth, these three times hath our great chieftain 
 been summoned away to account for himself for all this, 
 like a culprit. 
 
 Let King or Cardinal, who cavilleth at Kildare’s excur- 
 sions and punishments, come hither and prove that pro- 
 minence of place can otherwise be kept in such a country 
 
 than as Kildare doth contrive it. Outside the English 
 
 6 
 
18 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 Pale, aforesaid, there are sixty native chieftains, and thirty 
 who are of English, or even of Scottish, strain. 
 
 O’Nelan has often, by his custom of speaking to the 
 people, passed on to the unlearned the traditions and 
 narrations which will one day make history. But I hap to 
 have now here before me words of my Lord’s speech to the 
 Lord Cardinal in the year 1526, as followeth : 
 
 “ Little know you, my Lord, how necessary it is, not only 
 for the Governor, but for every nobleman in Ireland, to 
 hamper his uncivil neighbours in things wherein, if they 
 waited for process of Law, and had not those lives and 
 lands within reach, they might hap to lose their own lives 
 and lands without Law, ... You are be-Graced and 
 kneeled unto; but I find small grace with our Irish 
 Borderers if I cut them not off by the knees ! ” 
 
 Within these two years we have had, to the glory of 
 God, and to the terror of men, three blazing stars ! 
 
 Some — amongst whom, however, is not our wise Murtagh 
 — say how the same do presage that the world hath ripened 
 and mellowed for a quicker ending. Only God knoweth ! 
 
 But I am on safer ground when I say, with the Bard, 
 how that each of my Lord’s returnings hath pointed to the 
 triumph of his fluent explanations at the foot of the thron . 
 My Lord’s power is now, at all events, at its zenith, with 
 neither Skeffington nor Wolsey to say him nay in any 
 matter ! 
 
 Yet doth my brother Charles find my Lord Kildare 
 changed in personal bearing more than things of governance 
 do explain. 
 
 At one hour, exalted and puffed up, of loud speech and 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 19 
 
 high-vaunting self-fulness. At another, all that can be of 
 brooding, of sigh, of sadness ! This moment ready to run 
 with fire and sword from the mid-counties to the sea ; the 
 next, timorous over the enfortment of his several castles and 
 strong places, or questioning in whispers as to the kernes 
 and gallowglasses of the nearest petty chieftain ! 
 
 And then, as regards his family, how doth he not keep 
 them at unrest in all things ! For his heir, to wit, my 
 brother Charles, doth give me this sample : the same (last) 
 night of his arriving, when supper had finished, the father 
 smote the son on the shoulder cheerily, and de- 
 claimed : 
 
 “ Well, son Thomas, of a truth, if thou hadst seen, as I 
 did, how men fell off with the sweating sickness, thou 
 wouldest not with lightness of heart behold the year of 
 manhood so near approached, and thou, mine eldest-born 
 son, unmated for the begetting of an heir direct unto us ! 
 Odsooth, man, life is uncertain everywhere; and the 
 maiden, Frances Fortescue, is all thou couldest desire in 
 beauty, or I in fresh blood for the Geraldines, or our dear 
 Gerald for a sister ! Thy new-fangled shoulder-gun taketh 
 thee full often to the woods for pheasants, or to the stubble 
 for partridges or hares, I learn. Nay, nay ! I chide thee 
 not. And thy hawking is not, I know, fallen off, or thy 
 military exercising with our friends and the followers. Thou 
 hast done well in mine absences, and thy sisters speak well 
 of thy fatherliness and good arrangements. All that is 
 well, dear son ; but what I lightly began with, let me now 
 take earnestly in hand to council on.” 
 
 Here,” saith Charles, “ the Earl, leaning heavily upon 
 
oO 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 my Lord Thomas his shoulder, led him away in close and 
 long conference.” 
 
 Around the great Hall, and thence now through one 
 corridor, and now through another, these two strode, with 
 slow and equal steps, until it was nigh time for retiring. 
 
 Then, all assembling by command in the principal family 
 living-room, it was made known unto the family and house- 
 hold that an alliance was to be sought between my Lord 
 Thomas of the one part, and the Damozel Frances, daughter 
 of Sir Adrian Fortescue, of the other, the same being of 
 Seldon, in the County of Suffolk, England. 
 
 “Now, therefore,” said the Earl, “although I may not 
 ungallantly assume that the honoured and high-born Lady 
 (whom I name bowing) will of a certainty jump down, un- 
 
 ooed, to the beckoning of even our son, here present, 
 Lord Thomas FitzGerald, yet, methinks, when the same 
 my son, who hath warmly and dutifully subscribed his 
 willingness thereunto, shall use his tongue to the purpose of 
 making gift of his heart, there is good reason to hope that 
 the answer will be as fair, if possible, as the Lady who will 
 make it ! Which fair answer, as I am humbly and proudly 
 commissioned to advertise, will have the especial counten- 
 ance, furtherance, and high goodwill of our Sovereign, the 
 King. 
 
 “ I therefore conjure all here present under shelter of the 
 roof, the shield, and the right hand of a Geraldine, to look 
 upon this auspicious matter as upon a thing settled, or until 
 a hearing to the contrary ; and all from now will order 
 themselves accordingly.” 
 
CHAPTER THE FOURTH 
 
 HEREIN IS ALL THE HEART OF MARTYN FALLON, AS IT 
 TOUCHETH THE SAME OF HIS LOVE, MOINA ! HE 
 PLEADETH GUILTY TO THE CHARGE OF SELFISHNESS 
 IN HER REGARD, BUT DOTH NOT EVEN TAKE HOPE 
 FROM THE PROPHECY THAT WHEN SOME UNLIKELY 
 THINGS HAVE HAPPENED, HE MAY DANCE AT HIS 
 OWN WEDDING. YET MURTAGH THINKETH BRAVELY 
 UPON IT ALL 
 
 Had it not been for the tender matter of my dear heart, 
 Moina, I perhaps could feel the placid content which all 
 would seek to bring to me. In my windore, seeing how 
 I sit thereat so much, my young Lord had this new glass- 
 sheeting put, so that with rain and tempest without, I have 
 the light of day and calm and warmth within, although 
 there is only yellow horn in the Castle windores. 
 
 The children — and when companied by their mothers, 
 the maidens also — do bring me flowers and wild fruits. 
 For matter of fact, they bring me many a secret therewith, 
 to be writ large for their lovers at distances, and I have to 
 reason with myself at times — as, have I right to know much 
 that comes to me without passing the same to their dames 
 
 of school, their mothers, or their sires ? 
 
 21 
 
22 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS %% 
 
 God forgive me if I err in the matter, but always my 
 leaning is toward the assisting of lovers ! 
 
 And so, with all the volumes of my Lord Kildare’s 
 several book-rooms open to me through Charles, and with 
 many kind visitors — the welcomest being Moina and 
 Murtagh — and with my dear Aunt Vimbela of the beauti- 
 ful voice to make my house homely, and of much comfort, 
 I have but one great melancholy upon me. 
 
 It is Moina — my Moina — to whom I am betrothed, and 
 who hath my whole heart, as I have all hers, she sweetly 
 doth assure me ! 
 
 Yet who can blame or reproach her father (who in any 
 hap loveth his sweet child with a true father-passion which 
 would make him jealous that she should be won from him) 
 — if he now girneth that she reserveth herself for me ? I 
 am her loving servant, indeed, but capable of little service 
 of housebandship ! 
 
 “Though I be your father,” he hath said, “thou art a 
 personable colleen ; and the boldest boys of the borders 
 scowl at each other because of thee. Hath not Donlevy’s 
 successor said that nought under a miracle can restore that 
 poor Martyn to helpfulness again ? By the Rood ! I shall 
 call upon him to leave what he cannot gather. That 
 verily shall I ! ” 
 
 “Father!” — (I know that Moina replied so, but not from 
 her) — “ it were cruel to taunt poor Martyn with the heavi- 
 ness of the Good Hand of God ! When he had health 
 and hope, and all prospect, with strength beyond all our 
 youths, he laid all, and himself and his bright future, at my 
 feet. Nothing was then too good for Moina — and thou 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 23 
 
 Wert satisfied. And shall we now give him, with his 
 misfortunes, such sorrow and despite as . . . ? ” 
 
 “ Good girl, thou art besotted ! All misfortunes are in 
 the same basket in such a case as this. The same that 
 bed-rides him, deprives him of you to wife. The matter is 
 all of the size of a penny in his back ; but its correcting is 
 not in your hands, or in mine. Now, therefore, when 
 Feargus — ” 
 
 “ Father ! bid me marry, and I shall obey thee, as unto 
 God ; or bid me be single, and I shall do no less. But 
 there my duty of obedience must have end. If I marry, it 
 must be with Martyn only ; and his misfortune becomes 
 half mine. If I may not marry, it must only be because I 
 may not marry him. It is I, and not thou, dear father, 
 who have to live mine own life. I must live it in mine 
 own way ! ” 
 
 So saying, my brave one bowed to her father; and, 
 taking up her missal and rosary, she kissed The Cross in 
 each, and signed It on her bosom. 
 
 Since that day, when some discreet matron, or genial 
 priest, cometh to see me, I find Moina hath asked to 
 company them ; and her father, who knoweth that her 
 resolve is taken, maketh none opposition further. 
 
 It hath been borne in upon my mind that I may have a 
 duty of unselfishness in this thing. There is, they say, a 
 legend from an old master — how a dog in a cattle haggart, 
 that could not himself eat hay, would yap and snarl at the 
 hungry cow which craved a mouthful. I fit the cap to 
 mine own noddle, who am playing dog-in-haggart to 
 Feargus Connell’s hungry cow 1 
 
24 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS’ 
 
 But I am only human ! 
 
 I have nothing but Moina’s love — no health, no outdoor 
 life, no ease from pain. Feargus Connell hath all but 
 Moina — ay ! and choice for her replacement amongst what 
 is best and beautifullest in pattern and country-side. The 
 cry is too strong within me for Moina’s love ; and while 
 she will accord me the same, I shall slake my soul’s thirst 
 at it, as at a spring ; bask in it as in my heart’s very sun, 
 hear songs of Paradise in her whispers ; take it in by all my 
 five wits for the healing of my dolours, for the compensing 
 of my lost ambitions — ay ! for my all, and more than all, of 
 the light and the sweetness of life. 
 
 I may be selfish : so have I styled myself. But when I 
 taled the case to Murtagh, he harped curiously upon the 
 leech’s word : “ miracle.” 
 
 “ Miracle, quotha ? ” said he. “ Well, who knows ? 
 Every blade of grass is a miracle, duly regarded. And 
 every lark’s egg, and every tadpole that casteth tail, and 
 taketh legs, is a miracle. One whom I may not name said 
 three strange things of late ; and thou wast roughly hinted 
 of in her saying.” 
 
 “I?” said I; “ I, Marty n ? How can I have got into 
 the matter, dear Murtagh ? ” 
 
 “ In these words, Martyn,” said Murtagh, laying a hand 
 in all of pity and tenderness around my shoulders: “‘When 
 an Earl’s five brothers shall pass to England in the belly of 
 a cow, and never return ; then shall a cripple of many years 
 dance at the wedding of the woman he loves, and be 
 content.’ How dost thou read that, good Martyn? ” 
 
 “ How, alas ! Murtagh, but in its one plain meaning ? 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 25 
 
 Not until one impossible thing has happened shall the 
 other impossible come to pass ! Yes, I (for your instance) 
 shall dance and be content at Moina’s wedding when five 
 sons of an Earl travel in a cow’s belly, and not before — ” 
 
 Here— for I am womanish, I suppose, with long pain 
 and weariness of flesh and spirit — I burst into loud laughter, 
 like that of the idiot boy of Clontarf, that hath white hair 
 and weak eyes, and then I fell into a passion of tears. 
 
 “ Then call me ‘ Mad Murtagh ’ as you will ! ” cried my 
 comforter, mightily striking his knee through his goat-skin 
 kirtle, “ but I read the words other ways about ! Forgive 
 me, dear Martyn; thou art overmuch tender for such 
 strong-flavoured tales as mine. I go to get thee some 
 small venison of hare or partridge. I pray thee, play the 
 man when I return, for I hate tears — more especially tears 
 of mine own causing ! ’ 
 
CHAPTER THE FIFTH 
 
 IN WHICH, WITH MUCH THAT SAVOURETH OF WIZARDY, 
 THERE WILL BE THE MAKING OF NEW ACQUAINTANCE, 
 TOGETHER WITH THE GIVING OF GOOD ADVICE, DRAWN 
 FROM TRUE HISTORY 
 
 The day after my Lord Earl’s arrival at his Castle and 
 Manor of Maynooth was of much interest to my young 
 Lord Thomas. 
 
 Partly from the young Geraldine himself, partly from my 
 brother, and even in part from Murtagh — albeit indirectly, 
 — I have this account to give of the way in which my Lord 
 Thomas passed the day. 
 
 Greatly enmoved by the inequality of his father’s manner, 
 as well also as by the new duty (to wit, marriage) which the 
 Earl had set before him, Lord Thomas took advantage of 
 his father keeping his room, and of the ladies having 
 domestic tasks of spinning and other for their pre-occupation, 
 to go a-fowling with his sporting shoulder-gun. 
 
 Now, although the young Lord, upon the evening of 
 his noble father’s arrival, had lightly turned the thoughts of 
 the people to their supper of roast ox-flesh, and from the 
 prophesying of Murtagh, he had himself taken the last 
 more to heart than seemed to be. 
 
 With (and without) purpose, then, his way took him 
 26 
 
The weird Of “the silken thomas” 2 ? 
 
 feeside the oak coppice, wherein Murtagh was oftenest 
 known to take his retirement, although I speak not of 
 sleeping, which no man had ever seen him do. 
 
 It is within the eerie imaginings of the people that Murtagh 
 can shrink himself into the size of a Leprehaun and hide 
 under a cabbage. Insomuch, in sooth, that a hare’s form 
 hath, even been pointed out to me as Murtagh’s bed ! 
 
 When Lord Thomas, then within three miles of the 
 Castle, had penetrated two score paces into the coppice, 
 he heard faintly the winding of a horn, or instrument, 
 which was known to him as Murtagh’s trumpet-shell. 
 
 It seemed to the young Geraldine’s trained ear to come 
 from the low, wooded hills about nine miles off beyond the 
 river. 
 
 Disappointed of a conversing with Murtagh, of which he 
 had hardly allowed himself to think as his motive for thus 
 coming abroad, Lord Thomas, with half a thought, put his 
 small gold horn to his lips and blew the sporting notes of 
 fhe FitzGeralds. 
 
 Scarcely had they died away when (but this time only 
 from so far as the river-bank beyond the wood) there came 
 & louder moaning of the conch. And ere the young Lord 
 could put up his horn again, a leveret bounded forth from 
 the covert, whereat the young Lord thundered off his gun. 
 But his aim was disturbed by the stepping forward of Mad 
 Murtagh, in his goat-skin garments, who blew a blast of 
 ‘.salutation in the notes of the FitzGeralds’ foraying rally, 
 ;and bowed before him. 
 
 “ Good Murtagh/’ exclaimed Lord Thomas, “ how is 
 this ? Not longer ago Jhan a man could count a score in, 
 
28 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ** 
 
 and the sound of thy shell told thee half as many miles 
 away. Whilst I could only wind back an answer, thou art 
 within a mile ; and now my hand is on thy shoulder ! 
 What magic is this, I say? Well for thee that we, on 
 whom the ends of time are fallen, are less prone than our 
 forbears to shake at thought of a warlock or a witch, or I 
 trow thou wouldst ere this have made a passage on the 
 wings of fire to a bourne from which no conch could 
 send a rally back to Kildare ! ” 
 
 “ Ah, my Lord and dear friend ! ” said Murtagh, smiling, 
 there is naught in all the promises of the priests that 
 winneth me like the hope that we shall one day know ! Thou 
 hast often shewn the courage which bides the proper hour of 
 knowledge with confidence and content ; and so be it now. 
 Hereafter thou shalt understand if, and how, I knew that 
 thou didst await me here ; and if, and how, I did outstrip 
 the kestrel to come to thee from the hills. For the 
 present, leave the wonder a wonder still. Thou art here 
 to ask what I meant in the market-place yesterday; but 
 how shall I know if thou wilt heed my warnings ? Then, 
 indeed, I spoke as in dreams. Now I would fain talk 
 as man to man — in the words of history and sound 
 calculation.” 
 
 “ I am not so sure, friend Murtagh,” said his Lordship, 
 smiling, “that I am not like our people, in being awed and 
 impressed by thy power to move like a sunburst, and 
 by others, thy wonders ! Many advise me ‘ as man to 
 man ’ : do thou still admix thy lessons with mystery, and 
 doubtless they will work better towards their end.” 
 
 Murtagh sighed. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “Is it indeed so, dear my Lord?” said he. “Well, 
 well, thou hast thy weird to fulfil ! What will be shall 
 be 1 If mystery would make thee give due attention to 
 my words, thou shouldest have it galore ! Yet, alas ! 
 when will youth love wisdom more than wonders, or 
 belief in Truth be otherwise than for the works’ sake?” 
 
 “ Ah, Murtagh ! from my boyhood have I heard of 
 Banshees and Leprehauns; and of them whom to name is 
 to make them our rulers. If I am never to see them, how 
 am I to believe ? ” 
 
 “ Seeing is easy, Master FitzGerald. It is the believing, 
 we are told, which makes the truly wise man. And oh, 
 if only thou wouldst harken and accept my teaching, 
 unborn generations — though they spring not from thy loins 
 — would have occasion to rejoice ! ” 
 
 “Well, Murtagh, I shall truly harken unto thee and 
 believe. Thou has come ten miles in ten seconds to me, 
 and that even sans a broom-stick ! ” 
 
 Murtagh looked pensively at his pupil. Again sighing, 
 he seemed to change the subject whilst the young Lord 
 reloaded and primed his shoulder-gun. 
 
 “ Where is the game ? ” said the weird dreamer. “ I 
 heard thy thunder over near for welcome music at this 
 end of my journey to meet thee.” 
 
 “ It escaped me — a leveret. I had had better sport had 
 
 I had my cross-bow.” 
 
 “Thou hast heard of Leprehauns, my Lord. Hast 
 thou ever heard that your Leprehaun, when tired of cob- 
 bling at shoon for his masters, taketh air on occasion as 
 a leveret ? ” 
 
SO THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 “ I have heard old wives’ fables no whit behind that 
 same for foolishness ; but not quite the same.” 
 
 “ Whither did thine escaped quarry speed ? ” 
 
 “To yonder tuft of bracken, methinks; but of a truth, 
 thy sudden coming, and the smoking of the piece, called 
 off my gaze from the leveret.” 
 
 “ Well, let us see in what shape he will answer to our 
 call. Blow thy horn softly.” 
 
 Lord Thomas, smiling and wondering, wound his tube 
 mellowly. Nothing followed. 
 
 “ Let me essay the matter then,” said Murtagh. 
 
 Putting his conch to his lips, he began a low moaning 
 note, which deepened and waxed louder, and clanged or 
 bleated harshly, till it ended in a fearsome roar. 
 
 “No hare that ever I shall see will abide within five 
 miles of that clangour, my friend ! ” said the Geraldine, 
 making a motion as of intent to stop his ears. 
 
 “Thou art right, my Lord,” said Murtagh; “behold, 
 no hare, indeed, but — ” 
 
 As he spoke he pointed towards the tuft of bracken, 
 tall and withering, towards which the leveret had run. 
 
 The fronds swayed and shook; the stalks divided and 
 bent ; and a ’small figure, hardly more than the length of a 
 man’s leg to the knee, appeared and bowed ! 
 
 It was, i’ faith, a perfect human in all respects, bar that 
 it stooped a little or was short-necked. It was clothed in 
 scarlet from head to foot — that is to say, with scarlet hat 
 and feather, scarlet doublet and slashed jacket, trunk hose, 
 and scarlet shoes with pointed toes. 
 
 Seating itself upon a tuft of moss it drew forth a shoe, 
 
THE WEIRD OF ct THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 31 
 
 which for size might, perhaps, have received Murtagh’s 
 thumb, and commenced rapidly stitching the same. 
 
 Whilst that my Lord gazed as one moonstruck upon this 
 appearance, Murtagh smiled as he regarded him. 
 
 “ Murtagh I ” did Lord Thomas gasp ; “ what is it ? Art 
 thou in league with the devil? Is — is that indeed the 
 
 leveret I shot, changed by black art into a Leprehaun ? ” 
 Murtagh waved his hand, and the small figure vanished. 
 “ For the time, my Lord,” said Murtagh, “ be pleased to 
 think well and honestly of me. Of my part, I promise to 
 clear me of all doubt in thy mind before I let thee go 
 hence. See ! no Leprehaun is there now to be seized and 
 held till the yielding up of his crock of gold pieces ! But 
 if thou wilt seat thee upon this fallen tree, I shall answer 
 the question thou hast not asked ; and I beseech thee now, 
 harken to my council ! ” 
 
CHAPTER THE SIXTH 
 
 THE SCRIVENER SUMMETH UP MURTAGH’S HISTORY AND 
 COUNSEL TO LORD THOMAS FITZGERALD 
 
 For the next hour Lord Thomas listened to Murtagh’s 
 review of the history of the family to which he was heir- 
 apparent, so far as the same bore upon the advice he' had 
 to get from him. That advice consisted chiefly in this : to 
 be, in his time, less of the chieftain and more of the 
 administering politician than any of his friends or forbears. 
 
 Now let me, Martyn Fallon, run through, in writing, 
 what might be taled to such as Lord Thomas FitzGerald 
 without miscomprehension. He at least was well versed in 
 the particulars, however little inclined to guide himself by 
 the lessons that should be read therefrom. 
 
 As with Gerald, ninth Earl of 'Kildare, so had it been 
 with his father, also named Gerald, the eighth Earl, who 
 was the grandfather of Lord Thomas. 
 
 From time to time he, too, had been summoned to 
 London to give account of himself, and always only because 
 of the jealous machinations of enemies. 
 
 All the counts brought against him were such and such 
 only as might, with as much justice, have been brought 
 against any other of the Irish peers for a century ! 
 
 The acts, and the ways of working laws, which are of 
 33 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 33 
 
 approved effect in high civilisations, were not smooth- 
 running machines just then in Ireland. 
 
 That captain at sea who shall, in a time of storm and 
 stress, deal in smirking “ by your leaves ” and courtly “ so’t 
 please ye ” to his sailors, is less admired for his grace than 
 feared for his folly. Hard nuts require heavy cracks, and 
 the followers of wild Irish nobles were not to be laved of 
 their lawlessness by the squirting of lavender water ! 
 
 And so, for now two generations the heads of the 
 Geraldines, when summoned upon inimical report to 
 palliate threats of attaint for violence to the King’s Irish 
 subjects, again and yet again showed cause why their 
 several impeachments should be quashed. For, whereas 
 the rehearsed and alleged deeds of violence plainly affected 
 the interests alone of those who complained (or, it often 
 happed, only their passions), none thereof were of any 
 consequence whatsomever, as touching the interests of the 
 King. 
 
 Now this was, moreover, proved, viz., that full often the 
 Kildares, in using the violence alleged against them, had 
 done so at personal detriment to themselves and their 
 friends, but in support of the footing and hold of the Pale 
 (that is to say, of the English community) in the King’s 
 five counties. Let this never be forgot. 
 
 “ And, my Lord,” said Murtagh, when arrived at this 
 point, “ the falls — so called — of thy grandfather, like those 
 of his present Lordship, were as the falls of Antaeus. They 
 only gave the wrestler increment of strength every time he 
 went lowest, as to the wrestler with Heracles, in the 
 classic legend. 
 
 c 
 
34 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “ To such truth as your fathers uttered, the English 
 Commissioners had never been accustomed. When the 
 eighth Earl was to be charged with the burning of the 
 Church at Cashel — so far from the devising of deceits, 
 legal in self-defence — he made his case honestly worse than 
 his accusers could think of. He threw himself down, as it 
 were, to gain strength. 
 
 “ ‘ Spare your proofs ! ’ he cried to the witnesses. ‘ Spare 
 your proofs, I say ! for I own I did burn the Church ; I 
 e’en thought the Bishop was in it ! ’ 
 
 “When he was before King Henry the Seventh, his 
 Commissioners, the King advised that he should provide 
 himself with good counsel. Thereat the Earl eagerly caught 
 the hand of His Majesty. 
 
 “ £ Good counsel, your Majesty ! ’ he cried aloud. ‘ Ah, 
 Sire ! it is already provided for me — the greatest, the ablest 
 in your Majesty’s realms ! Your Highness’s self it is that 
 I take for my counsel, against one and all, these false 
 knaves ! ’ 
 
 “How, then, did such plainness of speech serve a Fitz- 
 Gerald ? Why, as it hath ever done ! One bitter enemy 
 of thy grandsire was the Bishop of Meath. And with these 
 words (having charged I know not what all of violence and 
 harsh doing upon the Earl) he closed a violent oration : 
 £ All Ireland, Sire, cannot govern this gentleman ! ’ 
 
 “ ‘ That noble gentleman, then,’ said the King, ‘ shall 
 govern all Ireland.’ And thereafter that same Earl governed 
 well — ay, and fought well, only once more to be vexa- 
 tiously opposed by enemies, and once more to have to 
 show himself aright in the King’s interest. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 35 
 
 “And if courageous himself, bow well did not thy grand- 
 sire like bravery and trust in another ? 
 
 “ Once he was in high dight of enragement with servants 
 who had left hot horses a-standing in a cold wind. For a 
 bet that was impossible, one said to a certain Master 
 Boyce : ‘ I will give thee a good Meath stallion now, and 
 thou wilt pluck an hair from the Lord Earl's beard.' 
 Boyce, at the top moment of the Earl's heat, trusted his 
 good heart, and said : ‘ Sir, may it please your Lordship, I 
 am to have a good Meath stallion from one of your horse- 
 men if I pluck one hair from your beard.' c I agree to 
 that,' said the Earl ; ‘ but and thou shalt ravish more than 
 the price named, I shall bring my fist in buffet on thine 
 ear, to the tune of thy fine horse — his kick ! ' " 
 
 Lord Thomas laughed at this merry story of Garret 
 More ; and Murtagh proceeded : 
 
 “ Once, by-the-bye, I was myself a witness of a con- 
 ference between this the great Earl, and one of his 
 enemies, in the Cathedral of St. Patrick, beyond the slope 
 of the south bank, above the River Liffey. 
 
 “ When some time had passed, and the Earl had made 
 no sign, fears and murmurs began amongst the followers of 
 the Geraldine. The archers, struck with panic for thy 
 grandsire's safety, rushed in; and Sir James of Ormonde — 
 with whom the controversy was — fled to the Chapter- 
 house, bolting the door after him. I was but a fearless 
 boy then, and crowded in with the bow-men. 
 p “ The archers shot, every whither, about them; and I well 
 remember how they left many an arrow sticking even in the 
 Sacred Figures. 
 
36 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “ Bitterly did the Earl rebuke such violence and 
 sacrilege ; and, in speech through the oaken door, he 
 besought Sir James to be assured that he would take no 
 hurt, and to receive his hand upon it. The other, still 
 fearing the archers, would not open the door, and a hole 
 was cut for the doing of this proof of good faith. But 
 Ormonde shrank from putting forth his hand, lest it should 
 be cut off short. Then Kildare passed his hand through. 
 Sir James, at the act, opened the door, and like brothers 
 they embraced in sight of all your grandsire’s following. 
 
 “ And, my Lord, so runneth the history of our country 
 for many a year. It is the history of thy Family, with side- 
 excursions into the same of their enemies. 
 
 “ This it is which layeth the Earls of Kildare so easily 
 and so often open to impeachment. It is small proof of 
 wit — the charges against a noble placed as thy father hath 
 been, which my Lord Cardinal Wolsey made. A Kildare 
 can no more set aside his concerns personal when he doeth 
 his work of loyalty than he can miss to benefit in his own 
 person and family when, for the public good, he purgeth 
 the air -with tar- water and great fires, in a day of plague and 
 pestilence ! 
 
 “ Lastly, sir, the affairs of our land, over which, at any 
 moment, thy destiny may call thee to preside, are inter- 
 woven with the very life-threads of you Geraldines ! 
 
 “ What are your interests as Chieftains, and as a family, 
 are such when ye are Viceroys also. An Earl of Kildare 
 may be trusted to fight for peace, and contend for 
 harmony ; for his good governance as a ruler ever beareth 
 upon his prosperity as a dweller upon his own land. The 
 danger is in the construing of it all by his enemies ! ” 
 
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH 
 
 (having the explication of the seeming necroman- 
 
 TICS, AND THE END OF THE MATTER OF MURTAGH’S 
 
 warning) 
 
 “Two questions I would put to thee, good friend 
 Murtagh,” said Lord Thomas, arising to go, when his wise 
 friend had at last come to an end. 
 
 “The first, my Lord Thomas ? ” said Murtagh, with a 
 smile. 
 
 “ Why didst thou speak in the market-place as a prophet 
 of evil ? Why didst thou speak of blood, and again of 
 blood?” 
 
 “ My Lord Thomas, I spoke in terms of the fable just 
 now, telling of how Antaeus got strength from every seem- 
 ing triumph of his foe. When thrown, he drew force from 
 the breast of his mother — the earth.” 
 
 “Yes, I remember.” 
 
 “ But at last, Heracles, his powerful enemy, flung him no 
 more , only holding him up from the ground, and strangling 
 him in his arms.” 
 
 “ And, to follow out thine analogy ? ” 
 
 “ My dear Lord, what thy Family’s enemies have per- 
 ceived that they cannot do by fair impeachment before a 
 proper tribunal, they will otherwise seek to bring about.” 
 
 37 
 
38 
 
 THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “ How, how — I prithee, Murtagh, delay not in thy 
 telling ! ” 
 
 “ My Lord, they will essay to make of thee thine own 
 Heracles ! ” 
 
 “ Again I say, how, Murtagh?” 
 
 “ They will seek to make thee break away from power 
 under a mighty King. They will tempt thee to believe that 
 office is never power unless it goeth with a titular in- 
 dependence. They will make our Sovereign in England 
 seem to be thine enemy, and the exterminating foe of thy 
 house ! Their hope will be that, holding thyself away 
 from the wholesome touch of discipline, humility, and 
 obedience, thou wilt make him such indeed, and strangle 
 thine own good destiny — if any such there be before thee ! 
 So to thy second question.” 
 
 £C Murtagh, it is this : Are the wonders that I saw with 
 thee to-day indeed the outcome of thy traffic with 
 Beelzebub ? ” 
 
 “ A plain question, dear my Lord Thomas, so let it have 
 a clear answer.” 
 
 From some part of his goat-skin clothing, Murtagh pulled 
 forth a conical piece of spongy tree-fungus. Swinging his 
 conch around from his shoulder to his hand, he pushed 
 the mass far along the coils of the shell, from the mouth 
 inwards. Then, placing the small end to his lips, he blew 
 a faint, long, low note, which sounded as though it came 
 from many miles away, even while Lord Thomas stood at 
 his side. Half withdrawing the wad, he blew again, and 
 the tone seemed to come from a short distance into the 
 wood. Then, all-withdrawing the pad, he was preparing to 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 39 
 
 blow the harshly-vibrating tone which he had wound before, 
 when Lord Thomas, stopping his ears, cried : 
 
 “ Spare me, I prithee ! I understand one of thy 
 wonders. May I now ask — ” 
 
 “ Shall I wind the blast which showed you the Leprehaun 
 my Lord ? ” interrupted Murtagh. 
 
 Before Lord Thomas could reply, the less blatant noises 
 of the conch were made ; and again the tiny figure in red 
 appeared, became seated, and commenced the labour of 
 St. Crispin. 
 
 “ Murtagh ! ” murmured the young Lord, in an awe- 
 stricken tone, “ this, verily, is no illusion. I can see for 
 myself that thou hast — ” 
 
 “Said I not rightly, my Lord, when I named, for the 
 dearest promise of our future, that we shall know , even as 
 we are known ? The explaining of the Leprehaun, which, 
 like the calls of the conch, I beg thou wilt not tell of — ” 
 Lord Thomas signed his assent. 
 
 “ — is as facile as the other. ” 
 
 So saying, Murtagh swung his conch back over his 
 shoulder by its rope of green dyed wool, and bent down, 
 stretching his hands towards the small red figure. As he 
 murmured some words in a strange tongue, the weeny 
 being stowed away the shoe which it had been repairing, 
 and shuffled rapidly to Murtagh’s arms. 
 
 “ See, my good Lord, there is no more mystery about my 
 little friend, Jacob Ranstraw, than there was about my 
 conch ! Jacob is as human as thyself — although (as he 
 and I sometimes entirely prove, for our mutual good) but 
 a pocket specimen of humanity ! He is a little man of 
 
40 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 thirty inches, who, caring not to keep worse company, hath 
 come to me, in my oak woods, for shelter and concealment. 
 He knows all the calls of my conch, although unable to 
 formulate words himself. He has many dresses, of which 
 I think he liketh this red one best, and so on rare occasions, 
 like this, I summon him from his little sheltering-place 
 amongst the bracken. Thus, dear my Lord, evanisheth 
 
 mystery the second ! May Heaven forfend that thou 
 
 shouldst scorn the counsel, because there is an end of the 
 curiosity ! ” 
 
 The tiny dwarf had nestled confidingly against Murtagh’s 
 knee, from which watching-place of curiosity and security 
 he gazed with some awe at Lord Thomas, and at that 
 dreadful weapon which had made the thunder. 
 
 Barring that the forehead receded too abruptly, and that 
 the shoulders were something of intruders upon the neck, 
 the sole departure from a proportional form, rare, I have 
 read, in these freaks of Nature, was a bowing of the legs 
 which, oddly, corresponded with what is said in foolish 
 tradition of the fairy cobblers, the Leprehauns. 
 
 Murtagh had given sanctuary to the little man when the 
 same had fled from some Romany folks, who had made 
 money by the showing of him. Their bad treatment of 
 the dwarf had occurred during a brawl which had a fatal 
 end ; and in their own flight from revenge, they could not 
 pursue the dwarf. 
 
 About twenty years of age, little Jacob Ranstraw was 
 quite childish in manner — the mind having been as hind- 
 ward of development as even the niggardly-built body. 
 
 But he had a talent for mimicry, and a passion for fine 
 
The weird of “ the silken thomas 
 
 41 
 
 clothes, both of which Murtagh had turned to account, not 
 only as now, with Lord Thomas, but also (albeit at rare 
 intervals) with the superstitious people of the country-side. 
 
 Making Jacob assume the appearance of winged fairy, of 
 gigantic toad, or of the enemy of mankind, by the sides of 
 wishing wells, or near fairy rings, Murtagh had often over- 
 heard the trembling confessions of evil-doers or ill-designers, 
 for whom the exordiums of the monks had neither 
 attractions nor terrors. 
 
 It was with this aid that Murtagh had been able to show 
 a knowledge of affairs which had often appeared to be 
 magical, and the distorted name for which was “ madness.” 
 
 “But two people besides myself, my Lord, know now 
 the natural explanation of my distant-sounding shell, and 
 of these appearances of my little familiar, Jacob Ranstraw. 
 I once more crave of thee the courtesy of silence in the 
 matter, for a good reason.” 
 
 “I shall keep your secret, Murtagh! But tell me now, 
 ‘man to man,’ as your own phrase hath it, and in one word, 
 what may I do towards the setting aside of my evil destiny ; 
 or how must I comport myself, favourably to influence the 
 future of my family, or to work out, harmlessly, mine own 
 weird ? ” 
 
 “ My Lord, I may only say thus much : see warnings 
 more than ensamples in much of the doings of your 
 forbears and your peers in this distracted lands of late 
 decades. 
 
 “ Be before thy time in striving towards peace, and the 
 paths thereof. It is to-day more true than ever it was, that 
 they who take to the sword shall by the same perish. 
 
42 
 
 THE WEIRD OF i( THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “ Therefore, in thy day of power and command, wield 
 the public weapon as the emblem of obedience and authority, 
 not exciting thyself of shallow cause to strike with thine own. 
 
 “ Six times have thy sires answered the impeachments of 
 their enemies ; but the seventh occasion is not arrived and 
 safely dealt with yet. 
 
 “ The old enemies came not into court, either with hands 
 clean of the charges that th brought or with disinterest 
 for the King’s service. 
 
 u It is through thy haste , thine own rashness , that they 
 mean to strike at thee next . I know this to be true, my dear 
 Lord. 
 
 “ Have a care against flattering words, and the vanity of 
 fine names. 
 
 “Thou hast almost come to the dividing of the ways of 
 thy life. I have sought as I may to help thee. By the 
 trust that I have placed in thee this day, I adjure thee, be 
 cautious ; be patient ! Remember the words of Mad 
 Murtagh ! ” 
 
 Catching the little dwarf, Jacob, in his arms, and with a 
 proud but sufficient gesture of salute, Murtagh dashed into 
 the bracken, loudly blowing his conch. 
 
 In ten seconds more, a faint, low, moaning tone of the 
 same seemed to wander like a summer-night echo from the 
 far distant mountains. Then all was silence and loneliness. 
 
 Lord Thomas arose, and stood towards the Castle. 
 
 But he never guessed that I, even Baruk Fallon, the 
 crippled Scrivener, was that other (who knew the secrets of 
 Mad Murtagh) of whom the prophet had spoken. 
 
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH 
 
 BY WHICH APPEARETH HOW THAT, DURING A SICKNESS 
 OF MARTYN FALLON, THE SCRIVENER, THE AFFAIRS 
 OF THE FITZGERALDS WORKED TOWARDS THEIR 
 DESTINY 
 
 It is many weeks since I added aught to this poor record. 
 
 Upon top of all others, my bodily weaknesses must 
 needs befall my catching of that Sweating Sickness, to 
 threatening of which my Lord had resorted for argument 
 why his son should early marry, that the House of the 
 FitzGeralds might not fail of an heir, by direct succession 
 of eldest sons. 
 
 Charles heard my Lord say that there were forty 
 thousand cases of the pestilence in great London only, and 
 that five in every hundred met the death thereby. 
 
 It hath been opined that mouldy or sprouting grain, 
 sometimes that which hath black horns too, led on the 
 plague ; but for me, this cannot be of the causes. 
 
 All suddenly I had a burning ichor or sweating all over 
 the body, vexing the humours of my frame with a flaming 
 hotness. Soon the head whirled and throbbed, and the 
 stomach was racked and upheaved so that I may not farther 
 tell of it. It was not what could be borne. 
 
 43 
 
44 
 
 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN* THOMAS 
 
 As I laid in bed, I flung off all bed-covering ; and the 
 importunate heat but increased thereupon. 
 
 For thirst, there was that of which the waters of a torrent 
 could make no assuagement. 
 
 Even at my worst came in Murtagh, with cooling drinks 
 of pestled sorrel and curdled milk-whey. And all in silence 
 he heaped upon me more than all of the bed-clothing, 
 laying arms by side in imprisonment of sheet and drugget. 
 Atop of all he put the heaviest covering ; and of thick- 
 fleeced sheep-skins was one. 
 
 In mine anguish of a less heat before, I had moaned and 
 cursed. In the steaming and scalding bondage now made 
 by Murtagh, I was silent, or only named God, and Our 
 Lady, and my patron personal, the blessed and happy St. 
 Martyn. 
 
 When it seemed that I must soon die, Murtagh put to my 
 lips his sour posset. A great wooden bowl of water from 
 the spring, given me earlier from the hands of my good and 
 frightened Aunt Vimbela, had dried from tongue and lips, 
 like the wetness from a full-boiled egg, and that ere the 
 bowl could be placed empty on the ground. Murtagh’s 
 drink satisfied my parching with the filling of a pullet’s egg- 
 shell for quantity ! 
 
 My head, that had banged as a drum beaten from the 
 inside, became cured of all dolours when he laid a mash of 
 pounded nettles, and other simples, cold upon the forehead. 
 Also ceased the double hearing of sounds — as when a dog 
 seemed unto me to bark, first, in his kennel, and then 
 instantly in my poor head ! 
 
 And albeit the sweating waxed, so that it dripped through 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 45 
 
 my truss of rushes and straw — yea, I heard the drops of it 
 fall — yet the scalding thereof waned ; and, with the sighs of 
 a comfort that I felt a-coming, I grew in patience. 
 
 Eftsoons, I slept, blessing God and my friend with my 
 last thoughts. 
 
 By the morning, I was quit of my fever, and Murtagh left 
 me to the care of mine aunt, and, in such fashion as might 
 seemly be, of Moina. 
 
 I remember it all ; but the plague is a matter too well 
 known of and described in the Gazettes and histories of the 
 years 1486-1509, and 1525, of our Salvation, so I pass it. 
 
 Yea, though, I had been sore handled by the plague ! 
 And I had remaining such weakness as made it that the 
 rushes and new straw upon my trestle seemed anon to open, 
 to sink, to let me down, so that in giddiness, I would shut 
 mine eyes, and cast out my skinny arms to clutch the bed- 
 bars, moaning ! 
 
 And the days which passed with improvement, were 
 thrice undone with returns of the ailment. 
 
 But each new spell was weaker than the last; and so, 
 to-day, I am given my parchments, and my writing-stone, 1 
 a little paper, too, and my pen. 
 
 The urgency of the scrivenery which had to be complete 
 for regard of correspondence with Sir Adrian Fortescue, 
 upon the affiancing of his fair daughter to the Lord 
 Thomas; and drawing up of settlement from dictation of 
 the lawyers and the family, with fair and spare copies; the 
 helping Charles with his tallies and accompts for the coming 
 1 A slate. 
 
46 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 banquets ; the ordering of many matters for neighbours who 
 could not read ; verily all this had made for me so vast a 
 mass of labour, that, methinks, the sickness — of which, by 
 the way, my Lord Chancellor had died some months before 
 — had found me easy to be struck down. For my good 
 recovery I much thank God and my blessed St. Martyn. 
 
CHAPTER THE NINTH 
 
 OF THE OCCASIONS TO TRIUMPH GIVEN TO THE ENEMY, 
 THE PROPHECIES OF FRIENDS, AND THE POPE’S GIFT OF 
 AN UNFITTING TITLE TO AN ADULTEROUS KING, WITH 
 PARTICULARS OF LORD THOMAS, HIS BRIDE 
 
 Those days after the Earl’s return were of much excite- 
 ment in all ways. 
 
 It is, of course, well known that whereas, in former times, 
 the Lord Cardinal, Wolsey to wit, had been jealous of the 
 power and authority of the Earls of Kildare, and had 
 impeached them on arraignments for violent bearing, and 
 for the practices of Irish Peers during centuries; that 
 same Prince of the Church had fallen from political power 
 before the last return of my Lord Kildare. 
 
 Item : It is known how even Sir William Skeffington 
 (some time Lord Deputy, but having it in command to rule 
 by our Earl’s assistance) had opposed the same Lord Kil- 
 dare; and he, too, was now removed from letting and 
 hindering his Lordship. 
 
 As Murtagh saith : 
 
 “If only the FitzGeralds would consider, and see, all 
 would now be well. A too fair way is a deceptful way.” 
 
 But it hath moved the air how that our ladies, Catherine 
 and Mary, are being wooed, with cognizance of their father, 
 
 47 
 
48 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 by the wild chieftians, Brian O’Conor Faly and Ferganaim 
 O’Carroll. Nay, even our young Lady Elizabeth, of whose 
 beauty a predecessor of our Lord Kildare in office sang 
 when she was the merest child, calling her poetically, “ The 
 Fair Geraldine” in her seventh year, — even she, it is 
 rumoured, might have been wooed by a wild young Irish 
 prince, for all my Lord would have done in hindrance 
 thereof. 
 
 {Not a bene . — Many years afterwards I am perusing these 
 records of our sad years, and I note that the “Fair 
 Geraldine ” is now the wife of the great Lord High Admiral, 
 the new Earl of Lincoln. She had earlier been wedded and 
 widowed by Sir Anthony Browne, a senior knight of the 
 Garter Order. Never hath it reached me that the begin- 
 ning of that young life in poesy, and the world-wide repute 
 of loveliness, secured to this daughter of a king’s cousin 
 more of joy or comfort than hath befallen my Moina of 
 whom high-born poets never sang either metrically or love- 
 sicklily.) 
 
 Alas ! how will not this give occasion to the enemy ! 
 My Lord Kildare so emerged from three trials that he hath 
 now the office, the honours, the dignities, and the responsi- 
 bilities of a Vicegerent. Wherefore, then, I ask, bating my 
 breath even before this paper, wherefore doth he rage about, 
 in the rough grandeur of an Irish chieftain, and unlawfully 
 consort and ally himself, act and blood, with men un- 
 friendly to His Majesty of England? 
 
 Murtagh hath farther told me that about the time of my 
 sickness, the Earl ramped like one distraught, and made 
 enemies on the right hand and on the left ! 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 49 
 
 He hath deposed Archbishop Alen from the Chancellor- 
 ship, and moved thereto Cromer from Armagh. Now, this 
 same Alen hath been the means of much true knowledge to 
 the English King and Council ; but ever forth he will be 
 the industrious and even malicious enemy, in season and 
 out of season, of the FitzGeralds’ race. 
 
 The pity of it all is that the very stars in the firmament 
 have fought on the side of this present Lord Kildare, 
 whom may God save from his own hand. Amen ! None 
 other can ! 
 
 So far back as the year of grace 1500, he, then a very 
 young man, was made Lord Treasurer. How generous 
 therein was King Henry the Seventh, and in commendation 
 of my Lord’s father ; and what a start in the life public for 
 my Lord ! 
 
 But it seemeth that he and his have a very doom 
 and destiny of blindness and disobedience upon them ; 
 and I fear it most of all for our gallant and beautiful Lord 
 Thomas, or “ Lord Offaly,” as I may call him, now he is 
 of an age for that courtesy. 
 
 One (who may not be named) hath told me that when 
 his grandfather, eighth of the Earls, lay a-dying at Athy 
 (the same was caused by a grievous gun-wound received 
 from the O’Mores of Leix while he watered his horse in 
 the River Greese at Kilkea), he heard that the Lady de 
 la Zouche, then become Countess of Kildare, was being 
 brought to bed. That happened in 1513, for birth of the 
 Lord Thomas. Then taking some of the blood of his 
 wound on his hand, he said, “ Ay, so ! as a Geraldine goes 
 
 out, a Geraldine comes in ! But there is pain at both ends 
 
 D 
 
50 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 of a Geraldine’s life ; and this will be a boy, and have a 
 woesome weird to fulfil. He will know more of pain and 
 blood than we all ! ” And so he died, and was entombed 
 at Christ’s Church. 
 
 Murtagh is full of stories and legends, many of which I 
 shall preserve herein, but not knowing how he heareth 
 them. 
 
 Although Murtagh hath the justness to perceive that our 
 bluff King hath been leniently moved in his condoning and 
 promotion of the Earls of Kildare, and although he grieveth 
 sore that the same have not duly advantaged themselves 
 thereof, yet doth he fairly boil and swell in his scorn to 
 hear of that new-fangled flattery by the Pope, which dub- 
 beth a Monarch of such life as King Henry “ The Defender 
 of the Faith”! 
 
 Upon this matter even the bird in the air, or the mouse 
 of the wainscot, hath ears and tongue ; and, silencing his 
 tirade, I am silent myself. May it be — but my knowledge 
 is imperfect — that a Pope, being a mortal man, hath human 
 gratitude for that King who did hold back for a time the 
 ambitions of Lord Cardinal Wolsey, when the same had 
 his eye set straight for the chair of the blessed St. Peter — 
 who, they do say, never even saw Rome, by-the-bye ! Let 
 King Henry do as it chooseth him with the Tiara after 
 Pope Adrian’s death and so forth ! 
 
 By reason of my Lord’s latest thought, which is, that he 
 hath not a great while to live, pressure came for urgence of 
 the marriage of my young Lord Offaly ; and the ceremony 
 hath been quickly and quietly performed. 
 
 I know not what all, in prognostications of lovelessness 
 
THE WETRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 51 
 
 and childlessness, have companied this union, and all, so 
 far as I can see, because of those three blazing stars, and 
 the strange bearing of the Earl. Yet Murtagh holdeth that 
 the flaming stars are as natural (in their way) as the waxing 
 and waning of the moon, and have less to do with the 
 destiny of Lord Thomas than his own luxury, and his love 
 of flattery and fighting ! 
 
 So, who can tell ? 
 
 But, alas ! there are some things that I do well know, 
 both from what I see and from the talk of the countryside ! 
 
 Robbery by the highway, and unprovoked cattle-snatching, 
 nay, even the robbing of the dead and the wish to injure 
 many by the dropping of pins into witch-wells, all these 
 signs that a wise Government is lacking are dishonouring 
 the day of power of my Lord the Earl. This, too, though 
 my Lord, wherever he goeth, taketh with him those that be 
 of his Chapel, that he may have masses (without fail or 
 delay) when piously moved thereto. 
 
 Not, albeit, that horrors are only of this distressed 
 country. 
 
 I hear through Moina, who heard it of her yellow-haired 
 sister, Rose Eustace, attending upon the ladies at the 
 Castle, how, whiles my Lord was yet in London this latest 
 time, essay was made by one Richard Rouse to work a 
 revenge, to the putting of poison in the soup in the Bishop 
 of Rochester’s kitchen, the man being of the opportunities 
 of a cook. Whereat, upon the 16th of February last, the 
 man was surely purged of his offence ; they boiled him to 
 death ! I need say no more than this — had the Earl per- 
 formed this punishment, the King would have ordered a 
 
52 
 
 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 separate prayer for these poor benighted Irish, and hanged 
 somebody ! 
 
 From the documents referred to in drawing up Lord 
 Offaly’s settlements, I note that the sister of Lady Offaly is 
 Lady Wentworth. Sir Adrian Fortescue, their father, who 
 had married Sir William Stonor’s daughter, Anne, was a son 
 of Sir J. Fortescue, by his wife, Alice, who was a daughter 
 of Sir Geoffrey Boleyn. 
 
 The Fortescues are a great family of Selden ; and their 
 beginning as such was when a squire with his shield pro- 
 tected a king in danger, who praised the “Fortescue,” or 
 strong shield , which had saved him. Would that the good 
 omen might come to the rescue and salvation of Lord 
 Thomas himself, in the person of his wife, a Fortescue, 
 from his weakness, his haste, and his vanity ! 
 
 Lady Offaly is, they say, a beautiful woman, and I 
 hope there may be no foundation for the gossip that she 
 loveth a young English spark, whose gallantries have 
 even brought him over to Ireland^ before now, yet who 
 hath vowed a revenge upon our ybung Lord that hath 
 taken her to wife. 
 
 It is strange to hear of her wonder to see how great 
 a college an Earl of Kildare had founded. Her thought 
 of her young husband’s father was altogether as of a rough 
 and violent man, who was of good presence, but not either 
 educated himself, or concerned for the instruction of others 
 in the Humanities. Charles as a resident, and I as an 
 out-scholar, were educated in the Earl’s College. 
 
CHAPTER THE TENTH 
 
 THIS TELLETH OF THE MANNERS, DRESSES, AND FEASTINGS 
 AT THE MARRIAGE OF LORD THOMAS 
 
 There were gay doings at the wedding feasts, lasting 
 three days. 
 
 The dinner was at eleven o’clock in the forenoon. The 
 banquet began when the fair company was seated in the 
 great arched and oak-groined dining-hall, after singing of a 
 grace, with presentation of Hippogras and wafers to the Earl 
 and Countess, which I saw for myself for the first time as 
 was borne to a retired place behind the arras upon my 
 trestle by order of the Earl. It was his Lordship’s wish 
 that I should write a list of all guests, and make notes of 
 all conversations by certain (the more important) of them, 
 as might by opportunity reach me. 
 
 When the Hippogras had gone round, the food came in 
 very savoury and lavish. There were brave dishes of 
 pewter for the upper table and the guests, others being 
 served with fair trenchers of white ash and pine. 
 
 The first dishes were for the upper table, venison, with 
 furmenty of young corn ; and for the other feasters, salt 
 beef and good wheaten cakes. At the service of pork, 
 stewed into a broth, all tables partook. Various subtleties 
 came next, being jellies and sweetmeats. Thereafter were 
 
 53 
 
54 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 fowls and vegetables for the high benches, whilst the other 
 tables had salt ling and other fishes, usquebagh, and 
 beer. The wild-fowls, which were cranes, bittern, herons, 
 and sea swallows, ruffs, lap-wings, and yerns, were in great 
 plenty, even piled on dishes, from which each feaster, 
 reaching forth, seized what dainty he chose. Once again 
 there were jellies and sweets ; and with pheasants and 
 a peacock for the Earhs table only, the feast ended by 
 service of buttered cakes, honey, spiced cakes, hard cheese, 
 and fruit. 
 
 For drinking was a plenty of clarry wine, Metheglin, 
 mead, bracket, and ale, besides the Hippogras — so called 
 from the sleeves of Hippocrates, inasmuch as Ypogras, 
 after mulling of the wine and adding of cinnamon and 
 ginger, is strained through a bag as through a sleeve. But 
 methinks this is far-fetched. 
 
 My brother Charles, his tallies show wine at fourteen 
 pence a gallon measure, but other drinks are made in 
 your stillrooms. It is my pride that Moina, with every- 
 thing else, is well versed in all this providing. 
 
 After dinner, which endured until three of the clock, the 
 guests rested or slept; and there were zanies, mummers, 
 and pageants to amuse those that were a-waking, withal. 
 
 Supper was at seven, with victuals from dinner made 
 hot, and others served with new bread, butter, mead, and 
 beer. For horse carers, link men, kernes, gallowglasses, 
 and passing travellers, and the retainers without, broken 
 meats, with brown bread, were supplied in trenchers, with 
 milk, usquebagh, and beer for drinking. In good time 
 for these banquets, all the windores had been filled in 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 55 
 
 with glass sheets, the ancient horn being removed. Many, 
 who had never known any but latticed windores, sighed 
 for air which the glass kept from them. Some, not know- 
 ing that the woven pictures, called “carpets,” were for 
 walking upon, took much courteous pains to pass round 
 the same, hugging the walls, whereat my Lord was very merry. 
 
 The guests were bravely habited, because all knew that 
 the Earl had seen the “ Field of the Cloth of Gold ” ; and 
 because the bridegroom, Lord Thomas, always finely 
 attired, would for his nuptials be gorgeous indeed. Some 
 had the trouse, or leg coverings of late years, with coloured 
 lines on the outside ; but most wore the long petticoat, a 
 large doublet laced over a stomacher in front, and a wide- 
 sleeved mantle descending in folds to the feet. 
 
 Lord Thomas wore all white, whether of satin, velvet, 
 taffety, or basil leather, except his gold chain armour, and 
 many silken tassels therefrom. He had sandal shoon of 
 white calf-skin, with gold lachets, upon his feet, and 
 crossed tapes of cloth of gold bound his long, loose, linen 
 hose in folds up leg and thigh. A white velvet cape, with 
 braid of gold, hung from his shoulders. The cone helmet, 
 of bleached bullock hide, had a golden Marmoset atop, and 
 beautiful golden wings at the side. 
 
 The guests of least distinction wore woollen or hempen 
 cloth frocks, much puckered and be-stitched in front, and 
 even rearward. Their legs were clothed in long black or 
 coloured hose. 
 
 But ere I could note more for my Lord, or myself, of the 
 bravery, and the feasting, I had to give an ear to the 
 conversing. 
 
56 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 And, for all their character for wildness, by reason of 
 inexperience of Court, methought our young Irish chieftains 
 and gentlemen bore themselves very seemly. The great 
 English visitors made lush and smacking noises as they ate, 
 slobbering at the mouth in eagerness to speak the while — 
 picking their teeth with what forks were for taking portions to 
 the mouth from the platter. I saw one stand upon his seat, 
 to reach some dainty which was afore his neighbour ; and, 
 again, one looked morose when he deemed another to have 
 seized a tastier helping. When one stood up, another stole 
 the seat away, and much guffawing when a fall and a short 
 wrangle followed. Also, they drank over-hastily, and jeered 
 at the labour of English speech made by our young nobles. 
 One I saw who ogled the timid maiden beside whom he sat ; 
 and rallied her upon not eating a great platter of the stewed 
 pork which he had put before her. 
 
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH 
 
 HOLDETH THE FRESH TALE OF THE ABBOT OF READING AND 
 THE ROYAL FORESTER ; BUT, BECAUSE OF THE COLD- 
 NESS AND UNLOVE OF LADY THOMAS, MARTYN WOULD 
 NOT CHANGE WITH THE BRIDEGROOM 
 
 At last, so coarse became the jests that I rejoiced when 
 the Abbot, who succeeded Father Burgess in the Abbey of 
 St. Mary, in Dublin, called upon my Lord to tell the fresh 
 story of the fat Abbot of Reading and King Henry. 
 
 In the telling, the Earl made many wanderings and 
 excursions of narrative ; but this is the story neatly : — 
 
 Henry, the present Majesty, is, as all know, of bluff 
 exterior ; and when clad for hunting, in leather and green 
 jerkin, hath not overmuch of the king about him ! 
 
 One day, hunting not far from the Monastery at Reading, 
 he got astray from his following, and hied him to the 
 monks for a meal. 
 
 The Abbot set good ribs of beef before him, and 
 furmenty ; and King Henry, being an-hungered from a long 
 fast, laid on thereto like two good men. 
 
 The Abbot looked at him amazed ! 
 
 “ By’r Lady ! ” he cried, “ thou art a very mighty and 
 noble trenchman, good forester ! And I would give the 
 
 57 
 
58 
 
 THE WEIKD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 King an hundred good pound an he could make my queazy 
 stomach digest beef like thine ! ” 
 
 “ Indeed ! ” said the King. “ What an if thou wert 
 taken at thy word?” and he stretched his hand for a 
 parting. 
 
 “ Then my word would be my bond ! ” roared the Abbot, 
 slapping his paunch, but shaking his head at what was 
 impossible. 
 
 Next day, much astonied, the worthy father was 
 summoned to London, without cause given, or any possible 
 explication ; and the following evening was thrown into the 
 Tower ! And many Aves did not lighten his care, for who 
 could know what view of his discharge of office the King, 
 his Council, might have come to take, or upon what 
 witnessing ? 
 
 The days passed, with bread and water for the breaking 
 of the fast in the morning, five miles of brisk walking by the 
 Tower moat, and up and down the high corridors and dark 
 winding staircases ; and only the change (ha ! ho !) to 
 water and bread for supper, until a week was passed ; and 
 the skin of the good Abbot’s body hung loose upon him, 
 like the pleats and folds of wrinkled Behemoth, which men 
 call “ Rhinoscere ” ! 
 
 Then the Abbot was bound securely, no word spoken, 
 and he was taken to a noble room, all a-sparkle with 
 beautiful dishes and platters. He was unbound; and, 
 being placed before a noble joint, such as the King had 
 been regaled with at Reading, was bade lay on. 
 
 The Abbot proved to be as fair a trencher-man as the lost 
 forester had shown himself. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 59 
 
 And, lo ! forth stepped His Majesty ; and bluffly he 
 called out : 
 
 “What ho, Father Abbot! either thou hast slandered 
 that queazy stomach of thine — for which ungrateful heresy 
 the fine is four hundred good crowns — or else the King 
 hath cured thee of thy queaziness ; and then the fee is your 
 promised hundred pound ! Choose, therefore, betwixt 
 fine and fee, or else return to thy fare at my good Tower 
 of London, for a further — ” 
 
 And the Abbot’s choice was not long a-making. 
 
 My Lord’s story was well received, except where the faces 
 under some shaven pates looked a little sour. The Coun- 
 tess gave a signal to the Lady Offaly, who rose, curtesied to 
 her and the company, and headed the procession, walking 
 a-wearily beside her noble young bridegroom. 
 
 Thereat O’Nelan, the Bard, struck his harp ; and an 
 epithalmium, which he had composed, was sung by the 
 choristers, to the music of which all paced out. 
 
 Unknowing, they passed close to the arras, behind 
 which I lay ; and through a small rending therein I saw the 
 bride and bridegroom pass. 
 
 At ’ my side I heard Lord Thomas murmur, very 
 tenderly : 
 
 “Art very weary of iCall, sweetheart mine?” 
 
 And the answer came^cruel and cold : 
 
 ‘^Sweetheart me no sweethearts, my Lord Offaly ! But 
 although I be in veryTruth, as thou sayest, very weary of it 
 all, I am most weariest of thyself ! ” 
 
 I am sore for my young Lord ! 
 
60 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 They made a splendid couple, having beauty, riches, 
 rank, and a world to wonder at their good fortune in this 
 union. 
 
 But although there was the yearning of a fond hope 
 and passion in Lord Thomas’s face, in his bride’s all was 
 far-away and weary ! 
 
 So when at last I was borne (very weary also, but with 
 better excuse) to my trestle inside the glass windore, 
 and found Moina awaiting me with flowers, and my good 
 aunt ready with a wholesome broth, floating with marigold 
 flowers and parsley, my heart bounded, for my humble 
 happiness was great ! 
 
 I would not have changed estates with the gallant young 
 noble who had all in the world — all, that is, but the 
 love that was all the world to Martyn Fallon, at your 
 service as aforesaid ! 
 
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH 
 
 IN THE WHICH IS SEEN HOW THE EARL OF KILDARE FIRST 
 CREATED ENEMIES WITHOUT OCCASION; AND THEN, 
 BEING MADE MAD BY THE GODS, PUT RODS IN THEIR 
 HAND TO SCOURGE HIM WITHAL ! HOW THE SAME 
 INDITE LETTERS UNTO HIM WHICH GIVE HIM JOY IN 
 THE EVIL-DOING OF OBSTINACY, AND ARE AS PIT- 
 FALLS TO HIM 
 
 There was much hustling and clamour at the Manor 
 and Castle after the feasting told of in my last writing, 
 as the guests took their departure. 
 
 Of the families of England, those related by blood or 
 alliances to the Geraldines were, amongst others, Stonors, 
 Neviles, Montacutes, Fortescues, Ingoldsthorps, Greys, 
 De la Zouches, and so forth. These had to make display 
 with retainers and followers, and the moving the same 
 to Dublin or Drogheda was no light labour. 
 
 Our Irish friends, who had come without parade, dis- 
 appeared like Arabs, making no to-do. 
 
 At last the family was alone, and, with a general longing 
 amongst them for peace and rest, went apart with very few 
 servants ; and mostly, indeed, waited upon one another. 
 
 Just then much was done to adorn the living rooms. 
 There was much new tapestry for the guest hall. The 
 
 hangings for the Chamber of the Chapel were of French 
 
 61 
 
62 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 red and green. Trussing beds came, of russet cloth of 
 gold, and satin of Bridges. Counterpanes and coverlets 
 were of points and imagery. Bed sidings were of arras- 
 work tapestry. Many short Turkey carpets also came. In 
 the laying and disposal of all which, our ladies took a great 
 part, and much pleasure. 
 
 Even then, had the destiny of the FitzGeralds been a 
 happy one, the Earl might have done much towards what 
 was to be desired by staying in retirement, and counselling 
 attention to farming, building, and other improvements of 
 land — matters wherein he had great skill, and was of a 
 liberal heart. 
 
 But some inkling that Lord Thomas was unhappy, coming 
 from the great readiness of his young bride to go back for 
 a time to her people, so soured him that, for all his love 
 of his son, he spoke unguardedly once. It was upon 
 what even a father might not wisely intermeddle with, 
 and Lord Thomas was too like the Earl to endure it. 
 
 So a short answer did not mend matters; and the 
 young Lord, whiles that he was all that could be of 
 loving and helpful to his deaf sister, and the other remaining 
 one, was haughty and silent to the Earl. 
 
 The Yule-tide of 1532 passed sadly, and the New Year 
 opened not much otherwise. 
 
 In things of his office my Lord was unequal, and not 
 easily approached. 
 
 When he went up to council, and a member or office- 
 holder asked his will, it was his ungracious way to sneer, 
 and slight the officer. 
 
 “Am 7 , then, the Lord Treasurer?” he would say, 
 
63 
 
 THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 “ or art thou ? When Lord Treasurer I was, then did I do 
 and undertake for my stipend ! Shall I undertake and do 
 for thee, except as regards that same question of thy taking 
 the emolument ? ” 
 
 But, mayhap, next day an office-holder would come with 
 a tale of undertakings carried (on hint of the last case) 
 to a full end, whereat the contrary reproach would be : 
 
 “ Hey, hey ! This done ? that concluded, that other 
 lavished upon ? Is there, then, no Lord Deputy to be 
 asked for orders ? Perhaps thou hast had commandment 
 from His Majesty to displace this poor Earl of Kildare in 
 that office? Am I to salute you as Deputy, good Mr. 
 Secretary ? ” 
 
 Alas ! in cases of old tribal feuds, I knew of approaches 
 made for harmony, whether in letters or personal appearings, 
 most courteously. But Kildare would none of them ; and 
 they who came for friendship went away, as I must needs 
 confess, well-nigh justified in their enmity. Even his own 
 brother, Sir James FitzGerald, wrote against him to the 
 King, saying : 
 
 “ My Lord, — My brother beareth me most extreme dis- 
 pleasure for such services as I did Sir William Skeffington, 
 then your Deputy.” 
 
 At last, having put all things awry, he, early in this 
 current year of Grace, summoned a Parliament. 
 
 “ Please you, good Lords and Gentlemen,” he cried out 
 one day, “be advertised that I hold ye all disgraced in the 
 condition of this our country ! 
 
64 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “ He that goeth on his lawful occasions is let and 
 hindered, the violent hand is in no wise restrained, and the 
 useful traffic of letters is in worse case than I ever 
 remember. 
 
 “ Foulness is in back streets of our towns and villages, 
 and the land too broadly lieth idle, because a man may not 
 hope to gain for himself the benefit of his labour.” 
 
 To this reproach, and other, the Parliament was sullen ; 
 and after a few days with not much done, the Deputy 
 declared the session at an end. 
 
 All this futility mightily pleased the Ossory family of 
 Butlers, who for generations had been the rivals and 
 enemies of the Geraldines, which, reaching my Lord’s ears, 
 still further soured and enraged him. 
 
 Just now it came to him that some ne’er-do-wells, being 
 incited by the devil, meant to fall upon him for rapine or 
 body harm whiles he journeyed betwixt his fine mansion 
 called Carbery House, near to Dublin, and Maynooth. He, 
 wanting to find the truth, deputed James Grant, a follower 
 humbly in his service, and who was like him in coun- 
 tenance, to amble along, with six of the servants, in the 
 Earl’s saddle-dress, and covered by the red cape which he 
 himself was customed to travel in. 
 
 The varlets fell upon this party at Lucan, until Grant 
 gibed them, crying out that his noble master had gone the 
 other side (or northwards) of the river, and they were fools 
 for their pains ! Fearing a larger following, they fled, but 
 were sore rewarded for their outlawry when taken by Lord 
 Kildare’s men. 
 
 Just then the Chieftain, Ferganaim O’Conor, flattering 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 65 
 
 my Lord, and proclaiming great injustice done him by his 
 cousin, Ely O’Carroll, set him on to invade the country of 
 the same. There was hasty preparation for the attack, and 
 the Earl’s forces sat down before the Castle of Birr. 
 
 We shall never know truly the account of that matter, but 
 we, who had often seen the Earl go forth on forays and 
 raids, had never known him set out so gloomily. And as 
 though this heaviness was of a kind prophetic, back came 
 he upon a trestle, sore wounded by a gun-ball from the 
 highest escarpment of Birr Castle ! He was gashed in the 
 loin and down the thigh, and arrived in sore straits of 
 pain and anger. 
 
 The kernes do tell that when the Earl tumbled, thus 
 hurt, an old soldier rallied him upon his bearing of his 
 maim. 
 
 “What ho! my Lord Kildare moaning?” said he. 
 “ Please you be advertised that I have thrice been wounded 
 by ball of gun or cannon, yet here am I, sound as any 
 trout, to fight again, and to cheer thee in telling of it ! ” 
 Whereupon the Earl, not choosing such familiar accost 
 by a follower, cried out through clenched teeth : 
 
 “ Sirrah ! what cares the Earl of thy county for thy 
 hurts; except he would to God that thou hadst had this 
 fourth wound instead of him ? ” 
 
 Wherefrom it will be easily supposed that my Lord’s 
 home-coming, wounded and savage, meant much of terror 
 to the Lady Margaret, his deaf daughter, and to that 
 youngest and most beautiful one, Lady Elizabeth, whom 
 men named the “ Fair Geraldine,” after the aforementioned 
 panegyrics upon her by the Earl of Surrey. 
 
 E 
 
66 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 There is, amongst those who live sumptuously and swill 
 strong wines, an ailment of great dolour, which generally 
 fastens upon the great toe, and with the full exigence of 
 which a man hath such foul passions as maketh his very 
 fingers to be at variance with his thumbs. 
 
 Now, so late returned from the banqueting in London 
 to the rich feasts and wine-bibbings at his own Manor, 
 the Earl had started off to hardships, and hurries, and the 
 irregular feedings of a foray. Together with such change 
 came the dolorous wound; and it is even said that, with 
 the Podagree settling therein, his Lordship will never be 
 the same self again. For this moment, at least, all is 
 hurry and uncomfort at the Castle ; and all is uncertainty 
 in the Council, with mounted messengers and swift foot- 
 runners to Dublin, bearing papers, whereof one sayeth 
 “ Ay ! ” and the following “ Nay ! ” in the same concerns ! 
 
 By some devil’s jugglery, the enemies of the Earl’s rule, 
 and house, and person, have learned of his sourness and 
 his possessed mood, and now avail themselves thereof to 
 make him put rods for his own back in their hands. 
 
 With humbleness they indite letters to him, and they 
 preserve copies to be exhibited afterwards to the Council 
 in London. Therein they say how it would be wise of 
 His Excellency the Lord Deputy to do certain things and 
 leave others undone. They counsel him to forego “his 
 right of office, which is, undoubtedly, to scorn good 
 advice,” and, “despite his present sad mental and bodily 
 incapacity, to do not of his own will, but otherwise.” 
 
 Now, the said foes do have a great care that all their 
 counsel is what would read best in England, well knowing 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 67 
 
 that in the recklessness of pride and Podagree, place and 
 power, wounds, hatred and jealousy, the Earl would not 
 seek to execute what was best for the land, or even for his 
 own interest, but only what was opposite to what he might 
 be advised. 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH 
 
 THE FATAL FEARS OF CHARLES; AND THE AMENDING OF 
 THE EARL BY THE RULE OF CONTRARY 
 
 Alas ! for my poor brother Charles ! For he hath become 
 mixed up with this turmoil by the foolishness of undue 
 fears ! 
 
 The good Father Burgess, who was Abbot of St. Mary’s, 
 in Dublin, and who died Midsummer, 1531, was the 
 loving friend, in sincerity and truth, of my Lord Earl, 
 albeit uncourtly in his approach. 
 
 From the distance of his Abbey, he had had super- 
 intendence of religion in the Castle Chapel of Maynooth ; 
 and one Sunday, my Lord being nearly recovered as to the 
 closing of his wound, the good Abbot who succeeded him 
 took a sermon which Father Burgess had prepared, and 
 had it altered and fair scrivenered to be read before the 
 general household. 
 
 It first made thanks for my Lord’s improvement, in 
 terms of the present Abbot’s invention, and then, on words 
 aken from the Book of Kings, made the lesson for edifi- 
 cation. It told the story of how Rehoboam took not the 
 counsel of the old men (to make lighter the troublings of 
 
 his father), but accepted the counsels of the young men, 
 
 68 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 69 
 
 who made him say he would whip the people with 
 scorpions ! 
 
 But the Abbot, suddenly falling sick of a fever, sent 
 down the written discourse for reading by a priest of the 
 household. The sermon only arrived at nightfall on the 
 Saturday. 
 
 Now, by evil mischance, the aged priest at Maynooth 
 (who was my Lord’s Father Confessor, and from whom 
 faithful words were well borne) had gone a journey, and 
 my brother Charles must needs read the sermon ! 
 
 This history of the foolishness of Rehoboam, whereby 
 he made Israel to rebel against the House of David 
 for ever, cannot be read without one seeing how the lesson 
 could be made to lean hard upon the crass bearing, in his 
 office, of my Lord to everybody. 
 
 My cleric brother, privily studying the discourse before 
 the household Mass, had concern to be loaded with the 
 reading of the same aloud ; but comforted himself because 
 he knew the Pothecary was resolved to advise that his 
 Lordship did not leave his bed upon that day. 
 
 Therefore when, half through the discourse, Charles, 
 from the pulpit, saw my Lord enter, he was confused for 
 dread of offence, and, in very fear that the Lord Deputy 
 would feel the sting of the young lips pronouncing such an 
 edification, lost his place. Essaying to find it, and giving 
 the sense of it thus so far : “ So Jeroboam and the people 
 came to Rehoboam the third day, as the King bade them,” 
 he trembled at what was coming, making it far worse in 
 this way : 
 
 “ And lo ! the King answered the people roughly, say- 
 
70 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 ing : * My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to 
 your yoke ; my father chastened you with whips, but I will 
 chastise you with scorpions ! ’ So, the Earl harkened not 
 unto the people ! ” 
 
 Who shall tell of the Lord Deputy’s wrath ! But it was 
 no greater than the terror and faintness of my poor 
 brother, who, as it were, heard his own voice too late to 
 stop the words ! 
 
 My Lord stood up, and limped away, vowing to call the 
 Abbot sternly to account. 
 
 Charles, when service was ended, hastened to my Lord’s 
 chamber, and on his knees sought pardon, showing the 
 writing in the discourse, and protesting that it was by his 
 awe of seeing his Lordship from bed that the mischance 
 had happed ! 
 
 Whereupon the contrariety of the Earl’s ailment served 
 my brother, for Lord Kildare roared : 
 
 “ Priest ! by what right sayest thou that there is error 
 therein? Hath God, then, no witnesses this day because 
 Abbot Burgess is no** more? Where is thy courage that 
 thou dost not think how, peradventure, the finger of the 
 Lord may have been as a coal of fire upon thy baby tongue, 
 to put ‘ Earl ’ for ‘ King,’ ? and to stab home, as from the 
 lips of a suckling, a keener-thrusting lesson even than the 
 great Abbot had intended ? Now, therefore, go to ; and 
 I charge thee that, first writing ^Earl of Kildare ’ for every 
 place of Rehoboam’s name," and ‘his enemies’ for every 
 mention of Jeroboam and the^people^thou shalt leave the 
 Abbot’s discourse for my study ! And for thine own 
 meditation, and for words of $n early discourse, take this 
 
THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 71 
 
 text: c As the Lord liveth, what the Lord saith unto me, 
 that will I speak ! 1 ” 
 
 So that my brother Charles came trembling forth, and 
 knew not whether to think well or ill of what had occurred ! 
 
 But Moina, whom both he and my dear aunt with the 
 sweet voice love next after myself and her father, com- 
 forted the timid Charles, saying it was even as the Earl had 
 said : the point and the message were laid upon his tongue 
 for deliverance to my Lord. Nay, of her acquaintance with 
 the internal life at the Castle, she was later able to tell us 
 both as follows : to wit, that taking to heart the lesson of 
 Rehoboam and the sermon, the Earl, besides being eased 
 of his dolours by some possets of the Barber-pothecary 
 (which before he had scorned to swallow), had now entered 
 upon mild courses, and was decided to act upon the counsel 
 that was so quaintly delivered to him, and the like as 
 touching all other counsel whatsoever that seemed to be 
 good, whether the same came to him by lip of friend or foe. 
 
 And now cometh what is saddest of it all. 
 
 His enemies, perceiving this better intention and wiser 
 mood, as coming to defeat their end of the EarFs destruc- 
 tion, have hastened to send an inimical Deputation to 
 England, putting vast blame upon the Earl of Kildare lest 
 there should be time for good to come of the change. 
 
 I shall finish this writing by setting out the heads of the 
 attack, viz. : — 
 
 1. That decay had fallen upon the land, wherein the 
 English language, dress, and laws were not used, except 
 within a compass of twenty miles. 
 
 2. The disuse of fire-arms, no archery, no stout servants, 
 
72 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 but only native servants, who could live hardily without 
 bread and other good victuals. 
 
 3. The Lords of the Pale, under the countenance of the 
 Earl of Kildare, retained no soldiers at their own expense 
 for the defence of the Pale, but only as heavy burthens 
 upon the poor subjects of the King. 
 
 4. Liberties, kept by the great Lords, defrauded the 
 King. 
 
 5. Black Rent was paid by those able to afford it, so en 
 couraging violence against the poor only. When property 
 stolen was recovered by an English force, the Lords, instead 
 of returning the same to the owners, kept it themselves. 
 For prevention of this a Butler was no better than a Fitz- 
 Gerald, the mistake being — so the Deputation said— the 
 appointment of any Irishman to the post of Lord Deputy of 
 Ireland. 
 
 6. Negligence of the King’s records. 
 
 7. All Manors, Lordships thereof, and properties were 
 gone, so that there were no means wherewith to carry on 
 the Government. 
 
 This statement was signed by the Bishops of Armagh, 
 Dublin, Meath, and Kildare. The successor of Abbot 
 John Burgess of St. Mary’s Abbey signed it, he opining 
 that he must have made an enemy of the Lord Deputy by 
 sending the sermon above mentioned, and little knowing, 
 by crass rules, he, the Abbot, had been more the occasion 
 of betterment on the part of the Earl in life and bearing 
 than any other man. 
 
 For pity of it, just when this hard deputation took up 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 73 
 
 its parable against the Lord Deputy, “ the effect of his 
 wound was more and more hindering the enjoyment of his 
 limbs; and his words, formerly flowing like a limpid 
 mountain runnel, were now delivered in mightily poor 
 plight ! ” So says one who knew. 
 
 Let me here briefly record such progress in my own 
 body state that it would seem the evil plague which I had 
 endured, had purged, sweetened, and strained the humours 
 of my blood and brain. 
 
 Alas ! the frailty of the injured back doth only seem the 
 harder to bear as it becometh my only ailment and dis- 
 abling ! Wherein I read, with shame of face, of the evil 
 ingratitude of human hearts, and (’fore them all in general), 
 of mine own in especial ! 
 
 I am now possessed, for entry here, of the final conclu- 
 sion of the report of the adverse Deputation to England ; 
 and therewith I shall conclude this thirteenth chapter of 
 my writing. It was further signed by Lord Gormanstown, 
 Lord Trimleston, and others, after that it had said this — 
 
 “Finally, Gentlemen of His Majesty’s Council, your 
 Petitioners do say that with dissention so rooted betwixt 
 the Earls of Ossory and Kildare, they cannot come into 
 conformity, or work for the boon or good of the country, if 
 either be Deputy, or either aspire to that room.” 
 
 And so, for the time, an end ! 
 
CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH 
 
 WHICH COMETH MORE CLOSELY TO THE TOUCH WITH LORD 
 THOMAS FITZGERALD AND HIS WEIRD ; AND WHICH 
 SHOWETH FRESH REASON THAT WHAT A PROPHET’S 
 MESSAGE IS, THAT SHOULD HE DELIVER, WILL HE, 
 NILL HE. WOLSEY’S ATTEMPT TO SLAY THE EARL OF 
 KILDARE 
 
 Whiles that my Lord Thomas sat down with others his 
 family to await, with what hope they could, the issue of 
 affairs, methinks his perception of the new mildness in his 
 father’s action and bearing (which formerly had been like 
 that of one distraught), together with the plain change in 
 his body’s health and spirit’s cheer, did soften with forgive- 
 ness the heart of the son to the sire. 
 
 Besides, albeit the rough words of the Earl which 
 angered Lord Thomas may never be known in this world 
 by themselves, yet if it be rightly opined that they bore 
 upon the question of a possible gap in the direct family 
 succession, there came a certain justification of the matter 
 of the Earl’s lamenting (although it may be hard to find 
 excuse for the manner thereof, even from an anxious 
 parent) to his unfruitful son. 
 
 For, as the months passed, there seemed neither a pros- 
 pect of an heir nor sign of wholesome concern upon the 
 
 74 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 75 
 
 beautiful but most callous bride, as concerning her 
 fruitlessness. 
 
 More and more, then, the time of the son was passed 
 with the ailing and erring father. And, although I came 
 to the knowledge that Lord Offaly pined with an aching 
 soul for the love of his young wife, even seeking philtres 
 and potions to make her love him withal, yet this pride of 
 his race for manly beauty would not force himself upon 
 her company, she being all unwilling. 
 
 The better for the Earl, at all events ! 
 
 For, in the soreness and sadness of his heart, Lord 
 Thomas looked both abroad in the land, and at home in 
 his father’s company, for distractions, interests, and 
 occupations. 
 
 There were times when his dream had happened to be 
 a union with the other greatest family in Ireland, to wit, 
 the Butlers of Ossory. They were of an equal nobleness 
 with the Geraldines, in some degree their kinsfolk, and 
 plainly their rivals in the love and fear of their great 
 followings. The Butlers were generous to a degree of 
 wrong-doing ; capable in their rude chiselling of affairs ; 
 and, even in the counter assault, or the thievery of mere 
 retort, guided by the same honour as the Geraldines. 
 
 In dreams of days nearer to his boyhood, the heir of the 
 Geraldines (however much nurtured in the blood-feud 
 official against the Butlers) had, at least, a thought for the 
 beauty of their maidens. 
 
 But although one of the fairest of them was said — too 
 often for her family’s pleasure — to look kindly upon our 
 young lord, whenever, at long gaps of time, the chance 
 
76 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 came, and although Murtagh has often said how good it 
 would be for the distressed land if such a thing had 
 happened, the drift of fate was against it. 
 
 And now he had espoused an unloving English lady; 
 and much of the lightness went from Lord Thomas’s step, 
 and of the gaiety from his expression. 
 
 At last, rumours began to reach Dublin, and soon 
 Kildare also, that the deputation had succeeded beyond its 
 greatest hopes. 
 
 The terrible doings of the King in England, as regards 
 his wives and his servants, had aroused a bitter feeling 
 against him — both in his own country and without it — in 
 the hearts not only of the religious, and the clergy, but of 
 the honest-disposed laity. And at last the evil of 
 matters had got so far as Rome ; and His Holiness, Pope 
 Clement the Seventh, set about excommunicating the King. 
 
 The result we do know. 
 
 The King became a new man ; and awoke with a stern 
 keenness to the consciousness that it behoved him to fight 
 for his own hand as regards the things of both worlds. 
 
 The latest charges against the Earl of Kildare had been 
 framed, not only with cunning, but (by the experience of 
 the former failures) so as to make them bite ; and this time 
 they held on. The Earl was, for the fourth time, summoned 
 to London. 
 
 Now, herein was a wonderful thing. 
 
 It was not until my Lord’s partial recovery, and the 
 effect of the sermon about the unwisdom of Rehoboam, 
 
Tee weird of “the silken thomas 
 
 77 
 
 that he had begun to amend such very ways of governor- 
 ship as were complained of successfully by the Deputation. 
 And, certes, I shall never forget the smile that rippled over 
 the face of the Earl as he asked : 
 
 “Did his Reverence of St. Mary’s Abbey sign that 
 instrument ? ” 
 
 For, as I have set forth in this writing, the accident of 
 my brother Charles making an error when preaching the 
 late Abbot’s discourse had had effect, more than the 
 jealousy of Wolsey, the hasty bluff sarcasm of the King, or 
 the irritations of all his foes, in leaning the Earl to depart 
 from the ways complained of. So there was a sad irony of 
 fate in Abbot Francis signing the indictment — he who had 
 well-nigh changed the Lord Deputy from the evil of his 
 ways by the sermon which he had sent, and an accident. 
 
 About the day when it became known that the Earl had 
 received injunction to repair to England this last time, 
 Murtagh happed in upon me, I was reading aloud from 
 old parchments and records to Moina and my good aunt ; 
 and Murtagh was himself like a muniment house, holding 
 much ancient lore. One never came to a matter to which 
 he could not add items ; but in all concerning the 
 FitzGeralds, the completeness of his chronicleship was 
 wondrous. 
 
 Moina moved him to tell her how the crest for the Earls 
 of Kildare came to be a monkey, or ape, or marmoset, as I 
 shall one day give the same from the lips of Murtagh, so 
 that it may never be confounded with a like story in the 
 history of the Desmond FitzGeralds, and told of their 
 dwelling at Callan in the County of Limerick. My good 
 
78 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 Aunt Vimbela also never wearied of hearing the legends of 
 the family of the Geraldines. 
 
 For one thing, he told of Cardinal Wolsey, his attempt 
 to murder the Earl by sentence of death upon him without 
 the King’s order at the former visit. The Earl was at play 
 at shuffle-board with the Lieutenant of the Tower, who was 
 his fond friend. A letter was placed in the officer’s hand ; 
 and, observing that he changed countenance, he asked him 
 might he know what agitated him ? The Lieutenant tried 
 to baffle the Earl; but this only made him suspect that 
 the paper seriously concerned himself; and at last Mr. 
 Lieutenant told the Earl that the letter was an order for his 
 execution in the morning. The Earl knew at once that the 
 King would not give the order in any such way, and im- 
 plored the officer to proceed at once to the royal presence, 
 as the Lieutenant had access to His Majesty at any hour of 
 day or night. He arose from their game of shuffle-board 
 with a profound sigh. 
 
 “Now, I pray thee, do no more,” said the Earl, “than 
 learn assuredly from the King, his own mouth, whether His 
 Highness is willing thereto or not.” 
 
 The Lieutenant, like many who came in touch with the 
 Earl, loved him dearly ; and although fearful to vex the 
 Cardinal, went to the King. His Majesty highly com- 
 mended him, was much moved at so great and unauthorised 
 danger to the Earl ; and gave his signet ring wherewith to 
 countermand the sauciness of the priest. 
 
 The holy Cardinal swore like an ordinary sinner at being 
 baffled of his vengeance, which was for the Earl’s great 
 answer to the very first charge in the last impeachment. It 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS h 79 
 
 was so clear and simple in statement of fact and law, so 
 graceful and flowing of utterance, and so musical in sound, 
 that all the Cardinal could do was fling up the charge, and 
 speed from the chamber. 
 
 And the Lord Cardinal never forgave any who worsted 
 him on his own dung-heap. 
 
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH 
 
 MURTAGH HATH FEARS BECAUSE HE THINKS LORD THOMAS 
 
 WILL BE MADE DEPUTY IN THE ROOM OF HIS FATHER 
 
 But I, who knew all the manners of Murtagh, perceived 
 that upon this particular day there was something more in 
 his mind than old history. When, for a moment, the 
 women went to prepare a meal, I laid a hand upon his arm 
 and said : 
 
 “ Murtagh, what is it ? Thou hast heard something : may 
 I know what it is ? ” 
 
 “Ah, dear Martyn!” said Murtagh, heaving a great 
 sigh, “ I should have told thee in any event ; but the 
 surmise which now saddens me is something that all the 
 Earl’s friends should hear of. 
 
 “ Through all the Autumn I have known that Skeffington 
 hath been raising his head in confidence of the Earl’s sure 
 destruction. Deythick, the priest, writing like a zany, and 
 buffooning in his reports, or anyone most unconcerned in 
 affairs, is listened to when charging the Deputy with 
 removal of arms, or any fault. In September, as thou 
 knowest, my Lady, the Countess, set out for England to 
 use her kinship and interest, that my Lord should not, this 
 fourth time, be arraigned ; but the order therefor was]' not 
 
 recalled. Ossory wrote to Cromwell that not all the 
 
 80 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 81 
 
 parchment and wax in England would draw Kildare thither 
 again ; and the very hint of such unwillingness or unreadi- 
 ness had most effect in making compulsion be put upon 
 the matter. 
 
 “ But further, as we know, the Earl showed delay about 
 answering the summons, even when it came ; and Skeffing- 
 ton did all the more audaciously move against him, saying 
 by which and which ways only the Deputy should pass 
 through the country ! It is well on in November, and now 
 hath the Earl received afresh the King’s letter.” 
 
 “ But, dear Murtagh,” quoth I, “ why so gloomy about 
 all this ? Hath not my Lord gone before to England ? 
 And his returnings — have they not been the confusion of 
 his enemies ? ” 
 
 “ True, Martyn ; but this time the order is, that he shall 
 name some person (whose acts shall be the Earl’s respon- 
 sibility) for the governance of the country during his 
 absence.” 
 
 “ And even for that,” cried I foolishly ; “ are not my 
 Lord, his brothers, well fitted for — ” 
 
 “ Alas, Martyn ! ” cried Murtagh, “ if it ever came to be 
 that question of who was to be selected, we could send a 
 good answer. But the destiny of our young Lord is 
 closing around him, for the Earl will name him, and he is 
 all unfit. I have foreseen it all. It is his weird. It will 
 be gone through with, and it will end in what I said — in 
 blood and death ! ” 
 
 And then I understood ! 
 
 For Lord Thomas FitzGerald, with all of goodness of 
 heart, is fiery and busy of temper, hasty to act on impulse, 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 jealous of dictation, and now soured in his tenderest 
 nature by the melancholy of his union with an unloving and 
 unfertile wife. 
 
 When my aunt and Moina, always bent upon cheerful 
 and loving service, set kid’s flesh and barley cakes before 
 us, Murtagh, ever unselfish, shook off his gloom. He told 
 of how an ape saved the heir when Woodstock Castle, 
 near Athy, was aflame. Ah ! how did not we all thrill 
 and clasp hands as he told it, so that we seemed to behold 
 every licking blaze, and to hear the roaring of the fire along 
 the halls and corridors ! What was not our despair when 
 searchers rushed to the nursing chamber of the child, — that 
 John FitzThomas of the FitzGeralds, who was afterwards a 
 famous member of the Family. But the room had been 
 quite gutted by the flames, and horror was in every soul. 
 But a voice was heard on the battlements of the castle. It 
 was a scream, or a cry, or what you please. And when 
 men’s eyes were turned thitherwards, lo ! a strange sight ! 
 The great ape, which was the pet of the Family, had broken 
 his chain, and sped unnoticed to the nursing chamber of 
 the infant. Him seizing all tenderly, so that men say the 
 babe still softly slept, the monkey climbed by ways where 
 no man could have passed, making no call or cry, whilst his 
 having possession of the babe might have terrors for those 
 who love it. But in the free air of the roof, the animal gave 
 its call of joy and triumph ! What marvel, then, that the 
 same child, when grown up to be the 6th Baron of Offaly, 
 took for the crest of the family, the Leinster FitzGeralds 
 of after time, an ape with his broken chain ! For a while, 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 83 
 
 also, the motto was used which, being interpreted, is : — 
 
 " Not forgetful of benefits.” 
 
 And Murtagh had other stories and legends, merry and 
 delightful, of the great Family. 
 
 I, too, produced ancient deeds in the quaint writing and 
 spelling of former days ; and we were very happy. 
 
 But at this present — it is the end of February, in the year 
 of Grace, 1534, and when delay could no more avail, or 
 even be possible — my Lord hath finished his preparations, 
 and is departed from Drogheda. 
 
 He had never swerved from his resolve to leave Lord 
 Thomas to act as Deputy for him. Before his going, he 
 held a council, and such reason as he had for his act was 
 said forth in words which one who was present thus recorded 
 for us all : — 
 
 “My Sonne Thomas, — As I have no doubte of your 
 well-knowing, our Sovereign Lord, the King, hath sente 
 for me into England, the ways whether I know so well 
 already ! 
 
 “ I know not what shall there betide, but God knoweth ! 
 Let befall whatever befall may, thou knowest, and I know, 
 how I am well steeped in years. Inasmuch as I am mortal, 
 I may die; but inasmuch as I am old, I must , and the 
 same right speedily ! It is because I see the budding of 
 thy years in this winter of mine own, dear my sonne, that I 
 will you to bear yourself wisely in these your green days, so 
 that you may well enjoy the pleasures of Summer with the 
 gladness of your friends, and reap the fruits of your 
 harvest ; and lastly, grow such sound wood of your life as 
 
84 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 to be well able to bear the Winter, when it shall come to 
 you, as it plainly hath to me. 
 
 “ And whereas His Majesty hath laid his injunction on 
 me, that on my going 1 shall name in my poor room a man 
 for whose acts I can answer, I hereby appoint thee to act 
 as Deputy, my sonne, Lord Thomas FitzGerald, in 
 courtesy Lord Offaly. 
 
 “ None knoweth better than I, your father, that your 
 years are in their tenderness — your plans are not hard 
 formed, your judgment not corrected by experiences. It 
 might be thought I might be easily dissuaded from putting 
 a sharp weapon unsheathed in the fingers of a man so 
 young. 
 
 “ But forasmuch as I am your father, and you my sonne, 
 I confidently decide to take watches about with you, and 
 through you for the steering of the ship, of which I remain 
 Captain, with thee for first Mate. Thus, what interference 
 may not be with the Deputy, may be helpfully applied in 
 my commands as your father, and correctly may be laid on 
 you as my son, if there be any information of ill work at the 
 helm. 
 
 “ There be, that sit at this Council with us here, who are 
 more imposing men for a charge so mighty than thou art. 
 But what would they have, I prithee ? Were I to pass this 
 load to any one of them his shoulders, he would give one 
 eye to be guaranteed that both of mine would be burned 
 out — because of envy. The case is different with thee — 
 mine own sonne ! Thy flesh being my flesh, what toucheth 
 my peace and ease is a trouble to thy skin — nay, more than 
 to my own ; forasmuch as I have the tough hide of age, 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 85 
 
 with quick solace in death ; and thou art of velvet, or satin, 
 with long years wherein to endure. Whiles I am making 
 my soul to live a few months in the admonition of God, 
 thou wilt not, as others might, be eager to scratch my skin, 
 by the thrusting of a poignard through thine own hand 
 laid thereupon. 
 
 “Now, dear sonne, meditate how it is easy to hack down 
 a tree, and hard to grow one in place thereof ! The 
 wisdom of this Council, and the love of its members for our 
 house, do assure me that they will school thee with 
 sagacity. And although by office and authority thou 
 rulest them, in council they must govern thee ! 
 
 “ My sonne, thou knowest that the maims late received 
 in my frail body choke the power of my talking ; but now 
 I will croak no more of this matter — who would have 
 repeated my solemn words if need were for their deeper 
 impression. 
 
 “ But whiles I yearn to help thee further, because I am 
 thy loving father, pitying thy tenderness in the great load 
 I put upon thy young head, yet knowing thine eager 
 inclination to do well from thine own impulse, I cut short 
 my discourse. 
 
 “ Assured, then, of thine utter good-will, here, before all 
 this most honoured and beloved company, I deliver thee 
 this sword ! ” 
 
 The Earl then embraced the Council, commended them 
 to God, and took his last farewell of his son with sorrow 
 and tenderness. 
 
 Thereafter they never met again in this world. 
 
86 THE WEIHD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 1f 
 
 On his departure, Lord Thomas returned to Dublin, and 
 assumed the high office to which he had been deputed. 
 
 By the deed of his father in placing him in the room of 
 the Deputy of Ireland, Lord Thomas became as an handful 
 of tickling cow-itch in the fleshes of two peoples. 
 
 His own following and friends celebrated this so young 
 Governor’s* assumption of the dignity by huge magnificence 
 of dress, and by a manner towards him which fostered his 
 vanity, and prepared the road to those acts by which he 
 rushed on to his doom. 
 
 But the opposite class was the cabal of the enemies; and 
 they showed a cunning, a speed, and a skill in deceiving 
 which, in sooth, were worthy of a worthier cause ! 
 
 Thus was the poor candle burnt at both ends. 
 
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH 
 
 IT SHOWETH FORTH SOME MACHINATIONS OF THE EARL’S 
 ENEMIES FOR THE RUIN OF HIS SON 
 
 Having undermined the Earl — now a close prisoner in 
 the Tower of London, they who were enemies of the Fitz- 
 Geralds lost no more time in working upon the vanity, the 
 rashness, the youth, and the inexperience of the son, than 
 allowed him to return to Dublin. 
 
 Knowing his impetuosity of the temper, they put small 
 slights upon him — of a kind not worth reporting, but 
 certain and sure to irritate the young Deputy. Nay, even 
 before they left Drogheda, on an occasion of Lord Thomas 
 keeping the Council waiting two hours, he entered the 
 Council Chamber just in time to hear Archbishop Alen ask 
 “ if it were not a pretty matter that they should stay so 
 long for a boy ? ” The Deputy bowed and smiled, and 
 said he was sorry they had elected to stay so long for “ the 
 boy ! ” But they very well knew how he meant : “ Ye 
 dared not but await me ! ” 
 
 Again, a great feast being holden in Dublin, the Master 
 of the Rolls got the conversation upon heraldry. 
 
 “And, by the way, sir,” quoth he, “I think your noble 
 family hath for crest the effigy of a marmoset, ever making 
 ready to feed upon its tail ? ” 
 
 87 
 
88 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ’* 
 
 “Thou art right, honourable sir,” said Lord Thomas. 
 “We, the Geraldines, have been fed by our Tail for so long 
 that our tail must long go an-hungered ere we shall let it 
 feed upon us.” 
 
 Thus went it on, with haughty insolence as to inferiors 
 on the Deputy’s part, and with irritations ceaseless of a 
 petty, unworthy kind on the side of his ill-wishers, personal 
 and national ! 
 
 • ••••.. 
 
 How fared it, meanwhile, with the Earl ? 
 
 No sooner had he gone than the same enemies sate them 
 down to construe all awry the speech to his son at Drog- 
 heda. If ever the Earl had spoken in true sincerity, it was 
 in that speech ! For a weighty presage of evil was upon 
 him whiles he spoke; and his recent change towards 
 moderation and desires for good was at its zenith. 
 
 When it was charged upon him that he did remove out 
 of the Castle of Dublin all the King’s arms, artillery, and 
 munitions of war, to furnish his own castles therewith, he 
 replied that, whatever he had done, it was within the entitle- 
 ment of a Deputy to do ; and that he sought, single-eyed, 
 to do what was best only for the confidence, consolation, 
 and comfort of His Majesty’s loyal garrison in Ireland. 
 Why should he be thought to have acted in his office against 
 the King’s power, seeing that he had come, naked, to place 
 himself in their hands ? 
 
 But, alas ! two things, or even three, warred against the 
 Earl’s success in refutation of charges this time. 
 
 i. The charges, as hath been said, had not been of 
 general violence, or of dealings against distant and uncon- 
 
89 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ’* 
 
 siderable natives in far-removed districts, but of contempt 
 of the King and his authority. 
 
 2. The King was so busied enforcing the confession of 
 one woman’s legal wifehood and the illegitimacy of an- 
 other’s offspring (both contrary to previous Acts and com- 
 pulsions) upon all his subjects, that he saw reproof and 
 recalcitration (in homelier words, a “ kicking-back,” but 
 Charles taught it me) upon that tender point, in any opposi- 
 tion whatsomever — pious, political, or personal ! 
 
 3. And besides, the novelty of the Earl’s glibness of 
 speech had worn off, even had the same been forthcoming ; 
 whereas the good faith, well-meaning, and anxiety of the 
 Earl wrought hardly upon the much-impediment of speech 
 which had followed his maims received at Birr Castle. 
 
 The change from fluency being in haste assumed to 
 imply guilt, he was straight committed to the Tower. 
 
 Then the Earl knew that the King had resolved to re- 
 move himself personal from all government; and his one 
 hope for this earthly world came to be that his son would, 
 without prejudicion, be allowed to show his gumption in 
 authority, so that the dignity of the Kildares should not be 
 quite rolled in the dust before their enemies ! 
 
 For a time he had hope of this, on the poor foundation 
 that the house was not attainted, and that Lord Thomas was 
 not overtly superseded. But even this poor flower of hope 
 quickly failed and faded ; and the shadow of Lord Thomas’s 
 weird soon chilled — soon paled and parched, his poor father, 
 so aged and so outworn ! 
 
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE GUILTY CONSCIENCE THINKS EVERY 
 APPARITION AN ACCUSER 
 
 Mine own health hath by now so bettered, with wondrous 
 lessening of the dolours of the back, that Murtagh made a 
 movable false top to my trestle-bed. This raising by the 
 hands of himself and a chair-man, he can bear me whither 
 I would. And when the smell of spring moved on mild 
 airs, I was, upon one gladsome day, borne forth and placed 
 at great peace in a thick part of the Cill Dara, or “ Church 
 of the Oak,” from which Kildare takes its name. 
 
 Murtagh sent away the chair-man, and bided beside me 
 a little time himself. Next, some sheep having strayed 
 from a fold hard by, Murtagh went aside to drive them 
 back and pen them, and methinks the air of that strong 
 season had made me heavy at the eyes. 
 
 The free, fresh young leaves had early attained unto 
 fulness ; and the place was shaded with a luminous green- 
 ness and quiet exceedingly. My trestle had been laid 
 down upon a russet heap of last year’s bracken, so that I 
 might note the uncurling of the new fronds which were 
 starting up all about me. 
 
 Had I slept ? I know not. 
 
 90 
 
91 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS w 
 
 But suddenly I heard voices, pitched to low tones only, 
 from just beyond a few hazels and oaks. 
 
 First came a woman’s words : 
 
 “ I cannot ; he is my husband ! And beside, I do not 
 believe he could be made to break into rebellion for 
 furtherance of any ambition ! ” 
 
 “ And if he yet did, Frances ? ” 
 
 “ I should surely leave him ! I would neither be of 
 blood nor of bonds with a traitor ! ” 
 
 (The time came when I remembered those haughty 
 words !) 
 
 “ And — leaving him ? ” 
 
 “ There an end ! ” 
 
 “ But — what for — for me ? ” 
 
 “ No more, Sir Arthur ; nothing more ! ” 
 
 “ Is all, then, clean forgotten ? ” 
 
 “ Perhaps ay ! — mayhap nay ! But if I am now be- 
 come an adept at forgetting, wast thou not my skilled 
 teacher ? ” 
 
 “ Frances, it was but a brief fancy ! I had heard so 
 much of the Lady Catherine’s beauty that I came only to 
 see her.” 
 
 “ And — then ? ” 
 
 “ Then — I saw the Lady Mary.” 
 
 “ What further ? ” 
 
 “ We Ingoldsthorps are a silent race. The glamour of 
 the Earl’s fluent speech — which, indeed, was upon all the 
 Court — came over me, too ; and — ” 
 
 “Yes; and?” 
 
 " I asked for the Lady Mary’s hand as in a dream.” 
 
92 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS u 
 
 “ When thou didst awake, thou didst hear that the Lady 
 Mary had—” 
 
 “ Had been betrothed to a rebel chieftain.” 
 
 “ Whereupon I had the gracious reversion of thy 
 passion ? ” 
 
 “ Cruel ! unforgiving ! ” 
 
 “ Nay ! what fairer compliment could be passed upon 
 thy good discerning taste than that I should show an 
 interest in these Geraldines ? — a race which had charms to 
 win even thee from thine allegiance ! ” 
 
 “ Ah ! it was for a revenge, then ? ” 
 
 “ Why, had thy suit prospered, my taking Lord Offaly to 
 my husband had made me thy sister ! And, as thou hadst 
 sought a wife that was not I, how now am I cruel for that I 
 sought the next nearest kinship unto thee that was possible? 
 When thou hadst failed to win thine Irish bride, and turned 
 again to poor me, it was too late. I had had the misfortune 
 to be more prosperous in my wooings — to say it so — and 
 had won, together with my gallant groom, heir of this 
 glamouring family, the loss of my life’s happiness ! ” 
 
 “ Ah, then, thou dost not love him ? Help us to put 
 him at a disadvantage, with the King and Council ! Al- 
 ready I see his head aloft on London Bridge ! And then, 
 my dearest ! — then thou wilt forgive thy Cecil, and — ” 
 
 “ Hush ! methought I heard a twig crack. Doth that 
 tuft of last year’s bracken sway, or was it my fancy ? No ? 
 Well, at least, forget not that thou art here masquerading 
 under the name of Sir Arthur Ingoldsthorp in some devil’s 
 knighthood of thine own creation ! The Cecil of old days 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 93 
 
 is dead, and must not be mentioned in the same month as 
 thy constant self!’ 
 
 “But, Frances, this husband of thine, thou lovest him 
 not ? ” 
 
 “ That to my sorrow ! ” 
 
 “Thou art not touched by his passion, his beauty, 
 his — ” 
 
 “ His tenderness, his courage, his legion of good qualities 
 — no ! and all that to my shame.” 
 
 “At least — ” 
 
 “At least, Sir Arthur Ingoldsthorp, let me crave a 
 pardon for the interruption, and end it thus : Lord Thomas 
 FitzGerald is my husband, and God’s pity on the tender- 
 souled and gallant gentleman that I cannot love him. But 
 thy bribe to me is no bribe now! And when his head 
 shall be on London Bridge, it, even it, I say, shall move me 
 just a shade more than if it had been thine own ! I shall 
 never recognise bond or blood betwixt a traitor and me ; 
 but I shall not conspire with thy Junto to make mine own 
 husband one ! ” 
 
 “ Wilt thou be neutral ? ” 
 
 “ Being numb, both in body and soul in his regard, I 
 shall not interfere with his fate. Surely that dried bracken 
 is moving ? ” 
 
 “ Go on ! go on ! ” said Sir Arthur, with impatience, 
 “Thou wilt not disclose our plot?” 
 
 “Knowing it not, I cannot. I have lived some years 
 ayont the north border of England. There they speak of 
 a doomed man as of one who drees his weird ! And Lord 
 Thomas shall ‘ dree 9 his, for any hand of mine raised to 
 
94 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 the contrary. There, an end ! This place is eerie ; and it 
 were not expedient we should be found romanticking in the 
 woods. Ugh ! I am becoming superstitious if I did not 
 hear a moan ! Let us go ! ” 
 
 Lady Offaly’s ears had not deceived her ! I had uttered 
 a groan from the pain of wrenching my poor back, to turn 
 for better hearing, and, if possible, also, that I might see 
 the gallant as he moved to depart. 
 
 In my weakened condition, unused to the strong air, I 
 had waxed faint during the conversation, which had become 
 seared into my memory. 
 
 But now, there fell upon the silent air a low wail 
 which rose through a sob as of a heart broken, to end in a 
 shriek of ghostly agony, with no word uttered ! 
 
 “ Look ! look ! ” gasped the man who was called Sir 
 Arthur, “ what is that ? ” 
 
 “ The Banshee of the Geraldines ! ” faintly murmured 
 Lady Offaly. 
 
 “ Mother of God ! see ! there is a ghost with it ! ” hissed 
 Sir Arthur. 
 
 How I bore that scene for the few seconds that I did 
 gaze thereat, I shall never know. 
 
 Following the direction of their staring eyes as 
 they sprang out from the foliage which had concealed 
 them — eyes which wandered back and forwards betwixt 
 mine own self and something upon my right hand (I shall 
 never know such tumult again !) I saw a weeny female figure 
 with its back turned towards us. Long black hair — the 
 which with one hand she slowly combed — flowed down to 
 the tuft of moss and bracken. The weird being swayed 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 95 
 
 backwards and forwards, crooning and wailing as the 
 keeners mourn. This was the Banshee they had spoken 
 of. 
 
 But the ghost was I — Baruk Fallon — as I stared aghast, 
 faint and in pain, from the heartless wife of Lord Thomas, 
 or the unscrupulous schemer against his peace, to the small 
 figure which had frozen their guilty hearts ! 
 
 And so, I remember no more ! 
 
 When come to mine own existence again, I found that I 
 was upon my trestle in my room, very faint and ill, a new 
 pain in the back, and little power over my limbs. 
 
 Murtagh had been an observer of the scene in the 
 coppice, and, like myself, had heard my Lady declare that if 
 people set temptations in the way of her husband, she, at 
 least, would not stretch forth her hand to save him. 
 
 Then he had signed to little Jacob to appear as a 
 Banshee, which (being without any expectation of it) had 
 shocked me. Indeed, the horror of the treachery, the 
 surprise of the Banshee’s cry and apparition, together with 
 the strain and injury to my back by rising, had first made 
 me seem a pale ghost to that most guilty pair ; and then 
 swoon heavily. Murtagh had little hope ever to see me 
 rally again, so deathlike was my falling. 
 
 Many and many times have Murtagh and Vimbela and I 
 talked over that dreadful occasion. And as often hath he 
 assured me that however he may at times have made pre- 
 parations for the awing of evil-doers, or for the finding out 
 of wicked designs, in this thing he had no hand of prepara- 
 
96 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS v 
 
 tion. It was all for my good in health that he brought me 
 out to the air. It was of mere accident that Jacob had 
 the Banshee’s character and dress ready that evening. He 
 might have been such a disturbance to the pair, had he 
 been at hand, that the scene would never have occurred, 
 but for his going aside to fold the straying sheep. No, in 
 all this matter was nothing of the wonders which had 
 made dear Murtagh well-nigh as much feared as loved ! 
 It was all wondrous even to him ; and the solemnity of it 
 all was upon him for many days. 
 
CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH 
 
 THE SAME IS THAT IMMEDIATE SHELL IN WHICH IS THE 
 KERNEL OF THE RECORD ; FOR THEREIN IS NARRATED 
 HOW THAT LORD THOMAS RECEIVED A REPORT OF HIS 
 FATHER’S DEATH FOR A TRAITOR BY A PERSON UNBE- 
 KNOWN 
 
 It is well into the sad year of Grace, 1534, and so far 
 all the fears and foretellings of Murtagh have come 
 true. 
 
 Lord Thomas hath removed for residence to Dublin 
 for the greater ease of attending councils, and otherwise 
 discharging the duties of his office of Deputy. 
 
 Once more hath Lady Offaly sought her happiness away 
 from her husband ; and the reports of the cruel dooms 
 meted out to Sir Thomas More, Fisher, and others, have 
 fitted the mind of Lord Offaly to receive that tiniest spark 
 of disaffection which would suffice, I trow, to set much that 
 is combustuous in him and his followers ablaze. 
 
 The love of sumptuousness in dress, which had been 
 always a mark of Lord Thomas, had now arrived at its 
 very highest pitch, not only as regards himself personally, 
 but also as touching the young nobles, the chieftains' sons, 
 
 97 g 
 
98 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 and other gentlemen who had attached themselves to him 
 to the number of about one hundred and forty. To the 
 excitement attending the drilling of these followers, and to 
 their flattery, may be accounted the young Deputy’s 
 inability for any judicious reflection. Had not Murtagh 
 most especially warned the young lord against the con- 
 spiracy of false praise ? “ When the flatterers gird them 
 
 to their work,” he quaintly sayeth, “the devil goeth to 
 dine ! ” 
 
 And at the very moment of greatest readiness to respond 
 to a spark, the same had come. 
 
 It was a letter assigned to a parish priest, named 
 Edwardus Carey, a man whose sight had become weak 
 from much fine work in small writing and the adorning of 
 missals and manuscripts. He was well known for friend- 
 ship to the FitzGeralds, who had much served him. 
 
 The epistle came to the priest’s hand just when he was 
 eye-wearied with his day’s work ; and whilst he laved and 
 dressed, he flung the writing towards his table in the corner 
 of the hearth. It falling upon the ground was supposed by 
 a visitor to be a wasted paper, and his heel being galled by 
 a boot of ill craft on a long journey, the man put the paper 
 in his shoe, as being smoother to the fretted part than his 
 coarse worsted hosen. 
 
 I have not as yet gained knowledge of this man’s 
 name. 
 
 Arriving at home later, he found the letter which he had 
 forgotten in his wetted shoe. Opening the paper, he read 
 as follows : — 
 
THE WEIBD OP "THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 99 
 
 At the sign of 4 1 The Moon Cow j 
 The Fleete ; London ; 8th June, 
 1534 . 
 
 To 
 
 The Revd. Father in God, 
 
 Edwardus Carey ; 
 
 In the small Church in High Street, 
 
 Dublin. 
 
 Greeting ! 
 
 „ VPn , r ’ a “ ™ kn ° wn friend » here enfixed in London, and lovine 
 even the dog of a FitzGerald, do yet greatlv Dresnm^ ; n « • , ^ 
 
 drawing of the Lord Thomas FitzGerald to any keener feeShaVh' 
 
 P resent J'afh. the great filial and family duty, which, before all 
 
 ZssZzzr**- "»» 
 
 ho^ie r e 2 2* 2222“ 
 
 d«b2i,2dl2n2i: h ' ,in5 '“ £ “ d *■«■*>£ 
 
 I implore thee 
 
 say unto him : « Up 
 man, and worthy 
 not prompt him in 
 plainly set out my 
 even fill thy time with 
 
 But I pass this to 
 of that of the loyal 
 —the tried and true 
 Geraldines, whom I 
 his word of know- 
 tion to mine all too 
 
 H H 
 
 X £ 
 
 d x 
 
 O £ q 
 
 X X 
 
 COM 
 w > w 
 
 S S 5 
 
 § -■* o 
 
 h a 
 
 x 
 
 w 
 
 I n testimony 
 affixed his sign. And 
 ful friend and servant, 
 
 Heed this Worthily. 
 
 Thy Friend, 
 
 James De la Hoyde. 
 
 therefore, Father, to 
 then ! and be a 
 of thy race ! ” I may 
 particulars, or more 
 plain meaning ; or 
 a longer letter. 
 
 thine hand after touch 
 friend, De la Hoyde 
 in all affairs of the 
 have prayed to add 
 ledge and appproba- 
 brief counsel. 
 
 whereof he hath 
 so I rest, Thy duti- 
 
 That-may-not-name-him. 
 
 Thereupon this visitor, knowing De la Hoyde’s sign 
 tenderly spread out the danrp letter, and pressed it under i 
 stone, between two clean papers. Having let it dry 
 
100 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 that night, he took it to the Castle, purposing to hand it in 
 to Lord Thomas by the servants. But it so happened that 
 the Deputy was that morning (followed by a very gay 
 military company) bent upon exercise in the fields beside 
 the Cathedral Church of St. Patrick ; and so meeting him, 
 the holder of the letter placed it in the Deputy’s hand 
 directly. 
 
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH 
 
 CONCERNING THE EVIL EFFECT OF THE LYING LETTER UPON 
 LORD THOMAS, AND THE MISFORTUNATE LOSS OF THE 
 DEVIL’S DOCUMENT ; FOR THE YOUNG DEPUTY 
 REFUSETH TO GOVERN, AND BECOMETH OVERTLY A 
 REBEL 
 
 In a little while, having a countenance pale and grim, his 
 Lordship beckoned a secretary, and ordered him to summon 
 the Council to meet him within two hours at the Chamber 
 in St. Mary’s Abbey. 
 
 The exercises (through which he had fully gone, so as to 
 prove himself calmly resolved to maintain his own arrange- 
 ments even as regards a drilling of non-importance) being 
 over, to the Council Chamber duly repaired Lord Thomas. 
 
 He was in all the splendour of his satin, his shirt of gold 
 mail, his silken tassels ; and he rode through the city with 
 his one hundred and forty followers. All were without 
 stirrups, and all had gay tassels on their helmets. They 
 rode through Dame’s Gate, a gorgeous cavalcade ; and 
 fording the river, came soon to St. Mary’s Abbey. 
 
 As the line of splendid-dressed retainers opened to give 
 him room, and bowed as he passed, Lord Thomas only 
 gave a formal salute in response— as from a military officer 
 
 IOI 
 
102 THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS’* 
 
 to his men. All smiles, all personal cheer and greeting 
 were absent from his pale, drawn, and frowning face. 
 
 The Sword-bearer was now about to take his place next 
 before the Lord Deputy, but his Lordship signed him back, 
 to the surprise of all the beholders, and passed forward 
 himself. 
 
 In the Council Chamber all had hastily assembled ; for 
 it was bruited that Lord Thomas had heard bad news in 
 some sort, and was about to take a bold step. 
 
 As he entered, all arose and bowed ; to which, again, 
 Lord Thomas only gave a military salutation. He 
 appeared to approach the chair as usual, but went no 
 farther than the foot of the dais. 
 
 He looked around him, all remaining erect. O’Nelan, 
 clad in his richest official robes, had his harp in his hand. 
 
 In the dead and solemn silence, the quavering voice of 
 the priest offering a brief prayer was heard. All the 
 members of the Council crossed themselves at the “ Amen/* 
 and then the silence within contrasted with the hum of 
 voices without. 
 
 At last, raising his head, and glancing at the Sword of 
 State borne at his side, Lord Thomas, still from the floor 
 beside the dais, spoke as follows, on that dreadful nth day 
 of June, beginning straight, without titles, names, or forms 
 of address : — 
 
 “ However injuriously we Geraldines be entreated, how- 
 ever thrown for our own defence upon our own arms, when 
 neither our services nor our good intentions towards our 
 Prince’s Crown availeth, yet it mote not be forgotten, when 
 the hostility which I now profess and declare is told of, 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ’ 103 
 
 that we were not churls nor villains, but soldiers and 
 gentlemen. 
 
 “This Sword of Estate is in future yours — not mine 1 
 
 “I received it when I swore but to use it for your 
 benefit. I should stain mine honour were I to use it to 
 your hurt ! 
 
 "Now have I need for my own sword, because that I 
 can entrust it better ! 
 
 “As for the general Sword of the Realm, it deceivetb 
 with a pretty scabbard. 
 
 “ But its pestilent edge is already weltering in the blood 
 of a Geraldine; and I may not doubt but it is being 
 whetted afresh for a greater destruction of our numbers ! 
 
 " Therefore, save yourselves as from open enemies ! I 
 am none of Henry’s Lieutenants : he hath made me his 
 foe ! I am evermore better minded to conquer if I may, 
 than to govern as his Deputy ! I would meet him afield 
 liefer than work further for him in any office ! 
 
 “ And if all the hearts in Ireland — ay ! and in England 
 and in Spain — that have griefs and sorrows urging them 
 thereto, would join in this affray, as I strongly hope they 
 will, they should soon know of his tyranny and cruelty ! 
 
 “And, for the same, ages yet unborn will brand him 
 amongst the monsters of the olden days— of most hideous 
 and most abominable memory ! 
 
 “ Here am I to return to you this Sword — the badge of 
 an authority which I decline longer to wield, and of an 
 obedience which I refuse to yield ! ” 
 
 So saying, and with a very stately gesture, he signed to 
 the Sword-bearer to place the weapon of State upon the table. 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH 
 
 WHERE WE FIND RELATED THE FURTHER DOINGS IN THE 
 COUNCIL CHAMBER — THE DULL HOMILY SPEECH OF 
 CHANCELLOR CROMER— AND THERE IS LITTLE MORE, 
 AS SUCH DULL WRITINGS MUST BE BRIEF 
 
 The whole bearing of the young Deputy, the firm, rich 
 voice, the dignity, might, and grace of his movements 
 worked as magic or miracles on all there present 
 
 A roar of pride and sympathy arose as from a single 
 throat. In the words of the escutcheon of the great 
 family : 
 
 “ Crom-a-boo ! A Geraldine a-boo ! ” shouted the 
 followers. 
 
 As by word of command, every brand leaped from its 
 sheath, and lightnings flashed therefrom over the pale faces 
 of the Council members. 
 
 Now for the first time bowing, Lord Thomas was pre- 
 paring to leave the Council Hall ; and at a sign from him 
 many of his brilliant following had already moved out, 
 formally saluting the Council. But all were in a great 
 fever of excitement, which they choked down with great 
 strain. 
 
 Some members of the Council, to whom swords were 
 
 ever a terror, now beholding the peaceful departure which 
 
 104 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 105 
 
 they had hardly expected, breathed easier, and were only 
 so far enmoved towards their own dignity as to decide to 
 stay still until, as they hoped, all the gallants would have 
 retired. 
 
 But now, stepping forward and raising his hand as about 
 to speak, Archbishop Cromer, whom the Earl of Kildare 
 had benefited by translation to a higher see upon almost 
 the very hour of his last triumph and return, saluted Lord 
 Thomas, and eagerly took hold of him by the wrist. 
 
 At a gesture from the latter, all were silent, and the 
 Archbishop began. His sentences — of which I give the 
 first as an example — were long, heavy, difficult to follow, 
 and ponderous both in meaning and tone. His manner 
 was that of a cleric who preacheth, rather than that of a 
 loving friend who truly and intently offereth counsel in 
 patience. 
 
 The point of what he undertook to say was that if such 
 a deed as Lord Thomas’s address implied had indeed been 
 done, and certainly proved, then he had a grievance con- 
 fessedly; yet that he should await proof before taking 
 action so terrible as he had foreshadowed. But he 
 laboured the point, to loss of it, in this fashion : 
 
 “ My Lord, — Although hatred be very often the prompt 
 attendant upon truth — as when we see him for the most 
 part disliked of men who declareth his mind — yet, 
 notwithstanding, I am so full assured of your Lordship his 
 beneficent leaning towards me ; and inasmuch as your 
 Honour cannot but be certain of mine entire affection 
 towards you, I am emboldened, notwithstanding this 
 company of armed men here present, frankly and boldly to 
 
106 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 utter that which, by me declared and by your Lord- 
 ship followed, will turn, God willing, to the avail of you, 
 your friends, your allies, and your country.” 
 
 From which long preamble, Cromer droned on (I put it 
 so not out of disrespect, but because the word fits), to say 
 that any man should look before leaping, should sound 
 water before sailing his ship on it, and should not look 
 upon the levying of arms against his Prince as a May-game 
 or Midsummer-day sport. 
 
 “What should move your Lordship to this sudden 
 attempt, I know not,” cried he ; and this with great feel- 
 ing and reason, so much moving Lord Thomas that for 
 the first time he sat down to listen more calmly. “ If it be 
 the death of your honoured father, my cherished friend — 
 remember it is as yet but secretly murmured, not pub- 
 lished with authority. 
 
 “ I should grant that zeal in resenting the execution of 
 your father might be in some respect commendable. But 
 reason calls out to await a certain report, and meanwhile to 
 suspend the revenge.” 
 
 Now, had Cromer ceased here, there is as little doubt as 
 may be that Lord Thomas would have given some time 
 to consideration. And, as the cruel report could not have 
 been proved, the Earl being untouched, all would have 
 settled down again for the time. 
 
 But the Archbishop maundered off, pleased with his 
 own sanctimony, and with the sound of his own voice in 
 a so-gay company, to tell of the duty of subjects in accord- 
 ing reverence to all conduct of sovereigns whatsomever. 
 He had for his absurd injunction that a subject, even when 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 107 
 
 his father has been unjustly slain, should bear with the 
 King who killed him, “ inasmuch as the name of a King is 
 sacred, and that of a rebel, in any sort, odious ! ” 
 
 Furthermore, the greater half of those present did not 
 understand the discourse, and at the first discontented 
 muttering of Lord Thomas's friends, O’Niall and O'Connor, 
 much restlessness began to be shown. 
 
 It was to one of those chieftains that Lord Thomas had 
 first shown the fateful letter, after hastily perusing it him- 
 self. It was passed by him to the other ; but when Lord 
 Thomas came to ask for it, the paper had in some way 
 become missing. 
 
 It was at this juncture that the fate of a great family, 
 and, in a sense, the same of the country, came to hang on 
 the pastiming of a dustman's little child ! 
 
 But of this we only came to be advertised a long while 
 thereafter. 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST 
 
 GIVING REPORT OF THE MARTIAL ODE OF o’NELAN, THE 
 BARD, WHICH, WITH ITS EXCITEMENTS, CAUSED LORD 
 THOMAS TO CROSS A RUBICON IN HIS LIFE; BUT 
 GIVETH HIM THE NAME OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS,” 
 IN THIS HIS REBELLION 
 
 It were hard to say how long Cromer’s address would have 
 been ; but at one of the noisiest interruptions, Lord 
 Thomas raised his head and addressed a few words, with 
 great force and eloquence, to the Archbishop ; upon which 
 O’Nelan, the Harper, struck several rich chords, and loudly 
 broke into these verses, singing them to the music of the 
 harp : 
 
 “ Hear him ! 
 
 The storm in the boughs of the oak 
 Roars with his voice ! Let a bard, 
 
 Striking full chords in the pause of his tempest of words, 
 
 Tell of this powerful youth ! 
 
 “ Hear him ! 
 
 The eye is a-dazed with the blare of his presence ! 
 
 Spread are our nostrils with balm and with spice of his robe ! 
 Mouths that are open in awe of his eloquent words 
 
 Taste them, as airs that are wafted from feasts in the hall ! 
 Great was the Sire ! 
 
 But greater the Son of the Sire ! 
 
 Who shall thrust back, to the grasp of his powerful hand, 
 
 108 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 109 
 
 Sword that he scorns — 
 
 Or the Rule that is held under Rule ? 
 
 See him ! 
 
 “ The bow in the sky 
 Vainly would rival the satin and gold of his garb — 
 
 The silk-tasselled helmet, and armour of chains, in his gear ! 
 Courage with him is told forth in the tones of a lute. 
 
 Go ‘ SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 So shall men call thee — and here hast thou lingered too long 
 “ Hear him ! 
 
 Shout woe to the treacherous — carlin or king 
 Hear him, and fear him ! 
 
 And shout in your pride of his name ! 
 
 Young are his locks — 
 
 But if wisdom and valour make grey, 
 
 Then is there wonder to see how the waves on his brow 
 Ripple in torrents of gold ! 
 
 Haste from the bondage of ruling — 
 
 Out to the air ! 
 
 Speed, ‘ SILKEN THOMAS ’—and draw 
 
 Sword of thine own for a vengeance on those 
 Who betray ! 
 
 “ Rise ! 
 
 Speed thee ! 
 
 STRIKE ! 
 
 I have sung ! ” 
 
 With a few throbbing chords in a martial rhythm, 
 O’Nelan finished his Recitativo ; and it was found that 
 the pulse of the measure had gotten into the feet of the 
 men, so that for a moment after he had done their tramp- 
 ing marked the time ! 
 
 Then a shout of excitement rent the air ; all calm and 
 meditation left Lord Thomas’s manner ; and the influence 
 of whatever was wise or telling in Cromer’s speech passed 
 quite away. 
 
110 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 Heavily stamping his foot, he signed once more for 
 silence, and the cheering ceased with suddenness. 
 
 Then the ill-advised young man addressed the Arch- 
 bishop (who had only asked him to await confirmation, not 
 to forego a righteous vengeance), in some such words as 
 these : — 
 
 “My Lord Chancellor, I came not hither this day to 
 take advice what I should do, but to give you and the 
 others to understand what I am minded to do. 
 
 “ It is easy for the sound to give counsel of patience — of 
 patience to the sick. But, sir, if this or a like sore had 
 smarted yourself as much as the same festereth me, 
 perchance your impatience had not been less than mine ! 
 
 “You would wish me to honour my Prince. But a 
 higher duty willeth me to reverence my father. 
 
 “Plainly, I will not hold him for my King who hath 
 executed mine innocent parent with such tyranny, and who, 
 in probablement, hath an equal design upon me, and the 
 residue of our House ! 
 
 “ If it be not otherwise than my weird to fail, then catch 
 that catch can ! I will take the market as I find it, doing 
 my best only ! 
 
 “ I deem it better to meet death with liberty and valour, 
 than — under the adulterous, incestuous, murderous, and 
 blasphemous King Henry — live in bondage and villainy ! 
 
 “Take ye charge of this polluted Sword, I fling it in 
 scorn before you! Henceforward, I shall know how to 
 live by mine own ! ” 
 
 Suiting the deed to the saying, the impetuous being 
 snatched the Sword of State from its bearer’s hand, and 
 
THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS 99 111 
 
 dashed it contemptuously upon the table of green cloth. 
 Then, grasping the gold and encrusted hilt of his own 
 falchion, he snatched it forth with a hissing and a ring, swung 
 it whistling and flashing around his head thrice, and 
 recovered the point, to rest in the mailed gauntlet of his left 
 hand. 
 
 Cromer and the others would have once more pointed 
 out how the gist of their advice was but only to await con- 
 firmation of the rumour ; but with a final flourish of his 
 sword, and a gesture which, as it were, pushed all argument 
 aside, Lord Thomas strode to the door. The gods being 
 minded to destroy him had first made him mad. That 
 which was his destiny he must needs fulfil. 
 
 Placing himself at the head of his followers, Lord 
 Thomas recrossed the river, and passed with the same 
 magnificence throngh the city to Oxmantown Green, but 
 this time he and his following all had their swords drawn ; 
 and their progress was made to a quaint war*song of the 
 olden time, led by O’Nelan, the Harper ! 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND 
 
 THE PART OF THE DUSTMAN’S CHILD IN THE HISTORY OF 
 THE GERALDINES, WHICH IS THE HISTORY OF IRELAND 
 AT THE TIME 
 
 Thus, upon the Feast of Saint Barnabas, nth June, 1534, 
 did Lord Thomas FitzGerald, by overt act and deliberate, 
 pass a rubicon in his life, burn his bridges behind him, and 
 start upon the dreary and fateful courses of an avowed rebel 
 and traitor. 
 
 As I have before recorded that a little child's doings bore 
 upon the matter at this touch of affairs, it behoves me to 
 explain how it happened, which is done as followeth : — 
 
 It was at the ascent of the hill at Ship Street that the 
 man whose name I have never learned handed the stained 
 and fatal letter to Lord Thomas. Many have said that the 
 man was no other than the friend, James De la Hoyde, 
 himself. But, although he was in Dublin, and was de- 
 ceived into signing the accursed letter, it hath been well- 
 ascertained by Murtagh that he did not hand the letter 
 with his own hand. 
 
 The same Lord Thomas, being too far shaken with horror 
 and anger at the ghastly news to trust himself with speech, 
 handed the paper to his companion, O’Niall, who was none 
 
 too good a scholar even at a desk, but none at all upon a 
 
 112 
 
113 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 restive charger without stirrups. After a few seconds, 
 O’Niall passed the letter to O’Connor. He, busied with the 
 form of the march upon which they were bound, neglected 
 the paper, so that it slipped from his gauntlet, and a horse 
 partly set a hoof on it. 
 
 Half a minute after, a disconsolate little child, weeping 
 because he had not been called to see the cavalcade, 
 toddled, sobbing, in the horse-tracks to the top of the hill. 
 There he picked up the folded and crumpled paper, and 
 resolved that his father should see it. 
 
 But, alas ! soon mixed with other gutter treasures, that 
 letter, an engine of ruin, or an instrument of salvation to 
 so many, was tossed upon a shelf in a dark corner of a 
 gloomy room in a squalid house at end of a dark alley 
 leading off Ship Street, near to Dublin Castle. 
 
 It had been the cunning work of Thomas Cannon, 
 sometime secretary to Sir William Skeffington. He had 
 been advised, assisted, and bribed to make that letter by 
 the fickle lover of Frances Fortescue, now Lady Offaly. 
 
 Lord Thomas inquired for the letter of O’Niall, who 
 remembered passing it to O’Connor. This last said he 
 had made no study of it, had not known that it was 
 Lord Thomas’s way of learning the bad news, and knew 
 not what had become of it ! 
 
 ct It matters not at all, my friends,” said Lord Offaly ; 
 “the statement was clear that, after having been tried, my 
 poor father had undergone the several punishments of a 
 traitor ! It matters much to me, however, since the letter 
 is lost, that it was approved and endorsed by our true 
 friend, De la Hoyde, whose signature is well known to me. 
 
 H 
 
114 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 The question is not whether, just now at the Abbey, 
 I did rightly, but whether will my friends join me in this 
 contention or nay ? ” 
 
 Then these two, O’Niall and O’Connor, gave him their 
 hands, and kissed the crosses upon their swords’ handles, 
 in a form of oath of allegiance to Lord Thomas, or “ The 
 Silken Thomas,” as we shall have now to call him. 
 
 But a new toy called off the child’s memory from the 
 letter he had picked up on the hillside ; and there in the 
 darkness it lay for many a sad month, with its secret of 
 how a true friend — to wit, James De la Hoyde — had been 
 cheated into affixing his sign to a lie, in proof that he 
 had read it, and counselled the action it recommended. 
 Of all this more anon. 
 
 When it was too late, that paper saw the light. But 
 when at last it did, the treacherous trick of Thomas 
 Cannon was disclosed; and one hard heart softened and 
 broke, bitterly remembering its hardness, and having in 
 mind also the haughty words : u I will be neither of bond 
 nor blood with a traitor ! ” 
 
 That heart was Lady Offaly’s ! Just when her pity came 
 for the hasty but deceived husband of her youth, her 
 own father’s head was being hung up for that of a rebel, 
 to the scorn of all loyal subjects of the vilest monster 
 who ever sate him upon a throne, since Caligula or 
 Nero ! 
 
 It is not for mortals to peer into the future; and not 
 knowing how she was to be related by blood to a rebel, 
 even Sir Adrian Fortescue, her father, she had departed 
 out of the family and home of her husband, because he, 
 
THE WEIKD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 115 
 
 under mighty provocation and deception, had defied the 
 King. It was a bitter remembrance ! 
 
 All of which, contrasting with the generous, sweet, and 
 tender-loving of Moina for me, doth fill me with rapture 
 and content for myself, and with a love of pity for the 
 gallant, sad, strong, and helpless, abounding, yet lacking, 
 rich and most poor Lord Thomas ! 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD 
 
 HEREIN ONE READETH HOW MURTAGH DREW HIS BOW AT 
 A VENTURE, AND SMOTE PATRICK CANNON BETWEEN 
 THE JOINTS OF HIS HARNESS, HIS ARROW BEING THE 
 WORD “ CECIL.” THEREAFTER THE HONOURS OF THE 
 CHAPTER ARE WITH LITTLE JACOB RANSTRAW, PLAYING 
 THE DEVIL, OR WITH MURTAGH PROPHESYING FURTHER 
 SORROW, OR AS THE GENTLE READER MAY CHOOSE TO 
 APPORTION THE SAME 
 
 Methinks I shall never forget the feelings with which we 
 at Maynooth heard of the terrible report from England, 
 of its results upon Lord Thomas FitzGerald, of the scene 
 at St. Mary’s Abbey, and of the overt acts by which the 
 young Deputy had signalised his start upon his insur- 
 rectionary course. 
 
 That day Murtagh had smuggled in the little Jacob in a 
 basket to amuse me. I had given him a lesson in writing, 
 for pursuance of which he had taken away pens, ink, and 
 paper, when Murtagh carried him back in a sack of sheep- 
 skin. 
 
 There are some who, in all eventualities, say, “ Ah ! I 
 told thee so ! ” be the same false or true. And from my 
 own small coign of observance I seem to note that the 
 
 wiser and truer the prophet, the less he harketh back to his 
 
 116 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 117 
 
 own predictions and predications in proof of his wisdom 
 before events. 
 
 But such an one was not Murtagh; and when, as now 
 happened daily, the people said, “ Well had it been for 
 us all if Lord Thomas had heeded thy counsellings in the 
 market-place, 1 ” Murtagh would respond : “ What I said 
 there was less directed to Lord Thomas than it was to you 
 all, who would, by your flatteries, excitements, drummings, 
 and so forth, make him fancy he had a force at back to 
 face the King withal ! ” 
 
 “ Hast thou no further helpfulness in thy mouth, 
 Murtagh ? ” they would say. 
 
 “At least, I have some truth,” he would reply; “but 
 when did truth ever seem helpful to a pottle of omad- 
 hauns ? ” 
 
 “Call jus what you will, Murtagh, but prophesy about 
 us!” 
 
 “ Then, having heard, be silent ! Ye have cheered 
 O’Nelan when he sang of triumphs to the sad young noble- 
 man : your plaudings now to me would therefore be an 
 offence. And I say that for all your applause, in a day 
 to come ye will melt away from beside him, as the drops fall 
 at the toasting of cheese ! ” 
 
 “Once before, Murtagh,” cried Patrick Cannon — “but, 
 then, my Lord Thomas was present, and gave thee backing 
 against me — once before I rebuked thee for presaging 
 evil days.” 
 
 “ They have come ! they have come ! ” shouted many 
 voices. “ The Earl of Kildare is murthered, and for his 
 duty as a son the young Lord, who hath ever been good to 
 
118 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 us from a boy, hath to make himself a rebel, or let a 
 father’s blood cry aloud from the ground ! It is blood — it 
 is death ! — it all is even as Murtagh hath said ! ” 
 
 “ But now he foretelleth what is worse than death — 
 desertion, cowardice, treachery ! Will ye have it said that 
 ye will drop off from the following of the son, whose only 
 traitorhood is the denial of allegiance to the Prince who 
 hath slain the father ? ” 
 
 It was a cunning line to take. 
 
 The word had that day been passed around that every 
 retainer of the Earl of Kildare, of age and strength to carry 
 arms, was to make such preparation in weapons, and such 
 plans for his family and affairs as would fit him for taking 
 the field with Lord Thomas, in his vengeance for the 
 murder of his father, at notice of an hour. 
 
 To be told that many of them would fall away was to 
 charge them with both falsehood and untruth. 
 
 Murtagh had stood with arms folded and head bent 
 down, whilst this view of affairs was reaching the minds of 
 the group. 
 
 “ Hast naught to say, then, worthy Prophet ? It is hard 
 to swallow such a word as ‘ treachery’ in Maynooth,” 
 sneered Cannon, noticing and pressing home the effect of 
 his interpretation. “ You are frowning. Hast thou no 
 butter to send thy bitters down the easier with ? Not one 
 word, good Prophet — one weeny word ? ” 
 
 Murtagh made no sign. The people began to murmur. 
 “Not one little word,” pursued Cannon, “wherewithal 
 to silence me, since Lord Thomas is not here to do so ? ” 
 
 “ I have such a word,” said Murtagh quietly. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 119 
 
 “ Say it” challenged Cannon. 
 
 “It may only be said in thy private ear,” said 
 Murtagh. 
 
 “What?” shouted the bully, now feeling sure that he 
 had the Prophet at a disadvantage — not supposing that one 
 word could silence him whilst on the popular side by his 
 resentment of the prediction of treachery. “ What ? Here 
 we be, the followers of the Geraldines, and it is our pride 
 to think that there is not a man amongst us who would not 
 cling to them in evil times like the wives of their hearts, or 
 like those that the same breasts have suckled ! Thou 
 opinest otherwise, and yet thou wilt not silence me in 
 argument before the people ! ” 
 
 “ Not with argument, Patrick Cannon ; that were waste 
 of words. One single word will suffice ! We shall call you 
 a fiery, untamed horse, without offence, and I shall be the 
 whisperer. Ye shall all,” said Murtagh, facing the crowd — 
 “ye shall all see by Patrick Cannon’s face whether my 
 one weeny word strikes home. If he will it, for certain- 
 ment then, at his desire I shall again whisper; but this 
 time three words. Yet if he can only promise for you 
 that ye will cling to the Geraldines, as do the wives of 
 your bosoms, it will be that he hath no better thought of 
 some of ye than I have mine own self ; for lo ! Lady Offaly 
 hath left her husband for ever ! ” 
 
 “The word, the word!” cried Patrick Cannon rudely, 
 fearing to lose the triumph of defeating Mad Murtagh in 
 public if the other matter were allowed to intrude. 
 
 Without the waiting of a rook’s caw, Murtagh stepped 
 forward in such manner as gave Cannon’s ruddy face to 
 
120 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 the full view of the crowd; and then, putting his Ups near 
 to his ear, said his one word in a clear whisper : 
 
 “Cecil/” 
 
 The shot of a hand gun at the carle’s head could not have 
 had more dire an effect. 
 
 He staggered back, no trace of colour abiding in his 
 cheeks. His breath was caught in the gasping of his 
 surprise. 
 
 Pale, trembling, open-eyed, he stared at Murtagh. 
 
 But as for him, with folded arms, he calmly looked at 
 the crowd. 
 
 A murmur of wonder ran amongst the people, and after 
 much gesturing and conference, Christopher Parese, foster- 
 brother of Lord Thomas, made himself spokesman. 
 
 “The one weeny word seemeth to have pleased thee so 
 much, Patrick, let Murtagh give thee the other three.” 
 
 Any kind reader of these poor records will know what to 
 expect. Cecil was the real but concealed name of Lady 
 Offaly’s lover, who had spoken of the plot to make his 
 successful rival for Frances Fortescue’s hand defy the King. 
 But Murtagh’s use of it might, Cannon thought, be a 
 strange accident. Patrick knew much of the life of his 
 skilled and unrighteous brother, Thomas. He at least 
 knew the name by which the chief conspirator was travelling. 
 He would risk testing Murtagh’s acquaintance with that. 
 
 “ Speak ! ” hissed he, advancing, stooped in attitude and 
 dour of expression, with hands clawing the air, and heeding 
 the attentive crowd as little as a flock of sheep. 
 
 The two met in full gaze of the gathering. 
 
 “ Sir Arthur Ingoldsthorp ! ” whispered Murtagh. 
 
. £>F “ ^HE £IE£EN $H<J$AS ” 12l 
 
 “ Spawn of Satan ! ” jhr^ked :/ \he terrified ,man, “thy 
 .father v^ill come to his own one day. And may I live to see 
 thee burned for a wizard ! 99 
 
 He turned to dash away; but the crowd liked fair sport 
 too well, and he was stopped. 
 
 “ Was Murtagh right ? ” cried several voices. 
 
 “ He is the devil — let me go ! ” cried Cannon^ struggling 
 fiercely to break away. 
 
 “Why, then, if Murtagh knows as Beelzebub does, we 
 may have it before us to desert the house of Kildare,” 
 cried one of the quicker wits present. 
 
 “Though each one here present did so,” cried Chris- 
 topher Parese, “ I, at least, shall never forget that Lord 
 Thomas was nurtured at my own mother’s breast ! ” 
 
 “We are all born, Parese,” murmured Murtagh sadly, 
 “ but we are not dead. Thy noble foster-brother trusteth 
 thee wholly indeed, but thou art not singular in thy willing- 
 ness to die with him. Let Cannon go ! ” he cried, as he 
 saw preparations being made for sousing the fellow in the 
 forge pond. 
 
 No sooner was the terrified villain put upon his feet 
 again than he stopped, covered his face with his arms to 
 save his eyes from the mud and sand with which the people 
 had begun to pelt him, and fled at full speed along the 
 road which stretched towards the park gate of Carton. 
 
 “ Holy Mother ! 99 hoarsely gasped the wretch, pausing to 
 recover his breath as soon as he reached the coppice, 
 wherein Murtagh and Jacob so much abode, and 
 towards which, in his terror, he had fled. “How much 
 doth he know? Should he have discovered that young 
 
122 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 99 
 
 Cecil used brother Thomas to indite that letter, or that the 
 same, as ‘Sir Arthur Ingoldsthorp,’ hath visited Lady 
 Offaly, who hath now vanished from her home, neither 
 Thomas nor I is safe in his life for a day. Murtagh, 
 curse him, is not so much mad as he is in league with 
 the devil ! 31 
 
 But when the fellow lifted up his eyes and saw little 
 Jacob dressed in black, with horns on head and a sheet of 
 letter paper before him, upon which he was making great 
 performance of writing with the tip of his tail-barb, he 
 uttered one fearful shriek and fell on the ground foaming 
 at the mouth. 
 
 Thereafter he never appeared near to Maynooth ; and all 
 attempts to injure Murtagh only did good to my friend. 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH 
 
 HOW THE WANT OF VERIFICATION OF THE REPORT OF 
 
 lord kildare’s death is of none effect in 
 
 MOVING LORD THOMAS TO PATIENCE AND CAUTION. 
 HE AVOIDETH MURTAGH AND ALL OTHER SAGE COUN- 
 SELLORS, AND MADLY SEEKETH ALLIES IN THE POPE, 
 THE KING OF SPAIN, AND THE BUTLERS OF OSSORY, 
 BUT FAILETH EVERYWHERE 
 
 It is in very truth believed that when, in the Council Hall, 
 Archbishop Cromer, the Chancellor, had seized the Silken 
 Thomas’s hand, and pleaded with him to wait for a con- 
 firmation of the evil tidings before taking even justifiable 
 action against his King, he had every desire and hope that 
 the son of his powerful patron would pause ; in which case 
 some credit could not fail of sticking to him — Cromer. A 
 sense of debt sometimes breeds a grudge against the 
 benefactor, albeit it must not be assumed that the 
 Chancellor felt such. 
 
 But when (enraged at being told that a subject should 
 bow when a king smote off the head of that subject’s 
 father) the “ headlong Hotspur ” had taken his desperate 
 course, Cromer had no thought saving to still get credit ; 
 alas ! now upon the other side of the opportunity. 
 
 No one could deny his having sought to restrain Lord 
 123 
 
124 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 Thomas ; but also, no one should be before him in the 
 reporting of the matter, and in the expressing of a loyal 
 abhorrence of what he could not prevent. 
 
 Accordingly, the Chancellor prepared a long, whining 
 description of the scene, which read like one of his own 
 homilies ; and sent his own confidential servant, Thomas 
 Brode, therewith to the King. But other action adverse to 
 Lord Thomas had also been taken. 
 
 The Council, which had for dignity’s sake remained sitting 
 upon the departure of the armed party, after a further brief 
 conference, issued an order to the Lord Mayor that he 
 should forthwith cause the arrest, by his people, of Lord 
 Thomas, with O’Connor, O’Niall, and the other leaders. 
 
 But the Council had reckoned without their host, as the 
 tap-rqom saying hath it ! The Mayor, who had no means 
 of knowing the extent of the designs of the ex-Deputy, 
 looked upon him as a mere brawler, who had tired of a 
 ..delegated authority, but who would at once become mild 
 again if taken seriously. 
 
 To have promptly carried out the injunction of the 
 Council would have been flattering and pleasing to his own 
 sense of importance ; but he found it, impossible. 
 
 Anyone who hath had patience to read this poor record 
 will have gained some knowledge, from mine own account 
 of my miseries, of the plague called the sweating sickness. 
 
 Now, just at the moment of the rebellion of the Silken 
 Thomas, this malady had laid a devilish hold upon the 
 poor city of Dublin; and when the Lord Mayor came to 
 count up his force of day and night watchmen, of con- 
 stables, and of the gallow-glasses of which he had control 
 
THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 125 
 
 by virtue of his office, he found that sixty in every hundred 
 were down with the plague, or else in bare stages of 
 recovery therefrom — languid, and unfit for service. This 
 not to mention that many had died outright. 
 
 The Silken Thomas, besides, and his following, had with- 
 drawn from the city, and retired far into the country. 
 
 His great blame was that he more sought to prepare for 
 overt rebellion against the King’s majesty (declaring all 
 goods and property of his subjects forfeited) than to dis- 
 cover whether in verity his father had been executed as a 
 traitor as reported, or nay. 
 
 It is known that the last ship which had been able to 
 leave any Irish port for London was that in which Thomas 
 Brode, bearing the Chancellor’s report, had sailed, owing 
 to the falling upon the coast of wild westerly and south- 
 westerly gales, which never intermitted for longer space 
 than an hour during eleven days. 
 
 Many ships did run for Irish ports ; but it was not ever 
 heard that any proof of the death of the Earl was received 
 thereby. 
 
 When the gales subsided, those who knew of the sweating 
 plague turned away from Ireland, and in any event, the Silken 
 Thomas had taken a step from which he could only retreat 
 by surrendering his body and estates to the detested Sir 
 William Skeffington. Certes ! even a message from his 
 father that he was still in the land of the living would not 
 now have oiled the waves in that storm. And the old rival 
 of the Geraldines plainly showed his joy at the fell success 
 of the plot, and the falling of the hasty youth into the very 
 trap against which Murtagh had so clearly warned him ! 
 
126 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “They will urge thee to break away from rule under a 
 great King,” said he, “and to regard him as the ex- 
 terminating foe of thy house.” 
 
 Thus passed a week, ten days, and a fortnight; and 
 news went about that Lord Thomas had made his calcu- 
 lations, and was now enrousing the country in terms which 
 showed that he, at least, was still solemnly convinced that 
 his father had been executed. 
 
 The interval betwixt his action in the Council Chamber 
 and his taking the field openly had been part used in 
 entreating for allies. 
 
 He wrote to the Pope, claiming that his cause was a 
 righteous and a filial one, and proposing that His Holiness 
 should accept the sovereignty of Ireland, which country 
 he, Lord Thomas, would hold of the Holy Father, upon 
 tribute to be paid annually. 
 
 He sent an ambassador (so entituled, forsooth) whom 
 I think to have been the friend James of the De la Hoydes to 
 the King of Spain, and asked for an alliance, jogging his 
 memory, especially as regards Ireland, the Claddagh in 
 Galway, and the west, upon the footing and hospitality 
 which had been so extensively given to subjects of His 
 Majesty. 
 
 He also tried to get the Emperor, Charles of Austria, 
 to join him against the King who had divorced Catherine. 
 
 Lastly, he wrote to his cousin, Butler of Ossory, so 
 long the rival, if not the enemy, of his house, offering him 
 a sound friendship for ever, and proposing to divide 
 Ireland with him. A sufficiency of time having passed, I 
 should suppose that this proposal told of the Pope’s 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS w 12 ? 
 
 reply not having been exactly what he wished, as else he 
 would have added : “ Subject to the suzeraignty of His 
 Holiness the Pope, and a tribute to be paid to the Holy 
 Father.” 
 
 But upon the receipt of a rebuff from Ossory, the Silken 
 Thomas decided to seek no more alliances; and as the 
 response from the country generally was almost as 
 favourable "as he had expected, he determined that his 
 first warlike action should be a ravaging of the country 
 about Kilkenny, as his rejoinder to the letter of Butler, 
 which was as follows : — 
 
 “ Taking pen in hand to write you my resolute answer, 
 I muse in the very first line by what name to call you — 
 my lord or my cousin — seeing your notorious treason 
 hath disdained your honour, and your desperate lewdness 
 shamed your kindred ! 
 
 “You are so liberal in parting stakes with me that a 
 man would ween you had no right unto the game, — so 
 importunate in craving my company as if you would 
 persuade me to hang with you for good fellowship. Did 
 you think that James was so mad as to gape for gagions, 
 or so ungracious as to sell his truth for a bit of Ireland ? 
 
 “Were it so, as it cannot be, that the chickens you 
 reckon were both hatched and feathered, yet be thou sure 
 in this quarrel I had rather die thine enemy than live 
 thy partner. 
 
 “ For the kindness you proffer me, and the good love in 
 the end of your letter, the best way I can purpose to 
 requite you is in advising you yet to look well ere 
 you leap. 
 
128 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 “ Ignorance and error, with a certain appearance of duty, 
 have carried you to this folly, not yet so rank but it may 
 be cured. The King is a vessel of bounty and mercy; 
 and His Majesty may be beseeched not to count your 
 words malicious, but rather belched forth for heat and 
 impotency, except yourself, by heaping offences, discover 
 in them a mischievous and wilful meaning. Farewell ! ” 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH 
 
 HOW ARCHBISHOP ALEN FLATTERETH THE REBEL BY FEARING 
 HIM, AND MURTAGH CHANGETH HIS OWN WAYS IN HOPE 
 OF PUTTING WISE WAYS BEFORE LORD THOMAS. ITEM : 
 THE MURDERS OF CITIZENS, AND THE PROVISIONING 
 OF DUBLIN CASTLE 
 
 There is so much of what is wise and sound in this 
 stern letter that when Murtagh heard it read by me 
 he moaned that it was not heeded, and said : 
 
 “Alas! the weird of the Silken Thomas it is that 
 letteth him from taking this brave and even holy advice ! ” 
 There is no doubt that the above letter so displeased 
 the Silken Thomas (with its brusque rejection of a friend- 
 ship not offered without some sacrifice of pride) that it 
 fired him to violence, even beside the circumstances of 
 the rebellion upon which he had entered. 
 
 An old master hath a proverb that Beelzebub tempteth 
 new beginners in the ways of evil ; and certainly the first 
 efforts and forays of the young hotspur met with success 
 for our marvelling ! None had taken his first threats 
 seriously ; and whilst he had acted upon calculations and 
 preparations, none of the same had been made by those 
 whom he attacked. 
 
 His march through Fingal was a triumph, and without 
 129 i 
 
ISO THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 any further hesitation he set himself to make a conquest of 
 Dublin. 
 
 Of public men, the first to pay the Silken Thomas the 
 compliment of fear was Alen, Archbishop of Dublin. He, 
 with Lord Finglas, took refuge in the Castle of Dublin, 
 knowing that he had little kindness to hope for from a 
 Geraldine ; for the most close, the most reliable, the 
 most interesting information ever supplied to the King’s 
 Council of the doings and negligences of the Kildares 
 in and out of office, had been for long written by 
 Archbishop Alen, and by John Alen, Master of the Rolls. 
 
 But whilst such timid action by a man so well informed, 
 aggrandised Lord Thomas as showing that he was to be 
 feared, and that no hope was to be entertained of 
 immediate protection against his advance, Alen’s further 
 step of essaying flight into England well-nigh created a 
 panic ! Men thought that the Archbishop (whom, as we 
 know, the Earl of Kildare had removed from the 
 Chancellorship to make room for Cromer from Armagh) 
 did not consider even Dublin Castle strong enough against 
 the young rebel. 
 
 From that moment began the proudest few hours of the 
 Silken Thomas’s life — the last blaze-up of his glory’s candle 
 before it began to burn red towards an end in smoke, 
 noisomeness, and stench ! 
 
 For the people bowed down before him, and followed 
 him everywhere with cheers ; those that wrote accounts 
 of the doings of the time to the King of Spain called 
 him “ The Prince of Ireland”; and although the Lord 
 Mayor remained loyal, sending Alderman Francis Herbert 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 13l 
 
 with information to the King, there was unconcealed 
 triumph when it was known that the idol of the day had 
 actually taken the field, with some show of aid and 
 countenance from the officials amongst the citizens, whilst 
 abiding the King’s answer. 
 
 But a change had come over Murtagh. 
 
 No longer wearing his goat-skins — no longer playing the 
 part of prophet — he flitted betwixt Maynooth and Dublin 
 in a sober garb, ever engaged in personal helpfulness to 
 Lord Thomas ; but also working for peace, and removing 
 irritations on one side or the other. 
 
 I hold him to have been foremost of all men of the time 
 in discovering that although the Earl of Kildare had been 
 sent as a prisoner to the Tower of London, he had not 
 been executed. 
 
 And I further believe that according as he heard of the 
 Silken Thomas’s movements, he hurried towards Dublin, 
 or back to Maynooth, seeking to tell him of the deceit that 
 had been put upon him. 
 
 No one ever saw him on cart or on horse. None saw 
 him run. Only it was known that he was seeking the 
 young Lord by the morning in Dublin, or in Kilmainham ; 
 and by the evening was at the gates of the Castle at 
 Maynooth. 
 
 I saw how his face fell dark and sad; how his body 
 became pinched and thin. And how did I not love my 
 dear Aunt Vimbela of the sweet voice, when she said : 
 
 “ Murtagh, thou art worn and a-weary. Go no more to 
 the wood of the oaks. See ! Martyn is often left lonely in 
 these troublous times. I sadden for the boyl Bring 
 
132 THE WEIRD OE “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 hither thy bed, and share our cake and our cup. Thy way 
 is free — thou canst come and go at will. But there is 
 a room prepared above for thee, which in thine absences 
 Moina and I will make ready for thee. As for our board — it 
 already owes more to thee than to us. Bring little Jacob 
 to a cot in thy room ; and with thy platter on the table, say 
 the blessing for us every day.” 
 
 Therefore Murtagh rested and tarried with us ; and 
 methinks I strengthen daily in the cheer of it all. 
 
 Now, having quickly conceived the desire to comfort his 
 following with spoils as well as to stop the supplies to the 
 Castle, and put harm on his enemies, Lord Thomas saw 
 possibility of killing those several birds with one stone, by 
 the ravishing of Fingal — from which district chiefly the 
 provender for the Castle had come. Here, again, he had a 
 triumphal march ; and with great spoil returned. 
 
 But when nearing Dublin, he found that people lay in 
 wait for him at Kilmainham, bent upon rescuing the prey. 
 To these he gave actual battle; and if any hope of his 
 being induced to submit himself to the King’s majesty had 
 existed up to that hour, it fell back lifeless then ! For no 
 fewer of the citizens of Dublin than eighty were slain ; and 
 as they died in opposing the movements of one who had 
 avowed his resolution to oppose himself to the King, it may 
 be said that the act was not one of battle, but of treasonable 
 murder of loyal subjects. 
 
 Natheless, in the consternation which followed such 
 slaughter, the citizens, whose Mayor had sent Alderman 
 Herbert to the King with letters, had to burn a little 
 incense to the devil, appearing to consent to the Silken 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 133 
 
 Thomas’s request for leave to besiege the Castle from Ship 
 Street. The Lord Mayor was at the time in touch with the 
 Constable of the castle, and found means to send in 
 twenty tons of wine, twenty-four tons of beer, two thousands 
 of dried ling fishes, and sixteen hog’s heads of salt beef. 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH 
 
 THE MURDER OF THE ARCHBISHOP AT ARTAYNE MAKES IT 
 TOO LATE FOR “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” TO TALK OF HIS 
 REPENTANCE OF HIS REBELLION 
 
 W ith Archbishop Alen had retired to the Castle, as I have 
 recorded, Lord Finglas ; but it was by himself that the 
 timid cleric determined to essay to escape out of the 
 country. 
 
 Would to God that either his heart for courage or his 
 head for wit had served him better ! 
 
 Evening fell, and the Archbishop stole on board the ship 
 as it lay at Dame’s Gate. He had engaged for his pilot 
 a man named Bartholomew FitzGerald, in whom he had 
 complete confidence; and so early betook himself to 
 sleep. 
 
 Whether the start had been made, as some do say, too 
 late upon the tide, or whether the night was obscured, or 
 the winds were unfavourable, or the pilot was treacherous, 
 may never be known. But several hours before dawn the 
 Archbishop was called, and information was given him that 
 the vessel had gone ashore on the Clontarf coast. 
 
 After many childish pleadings with the pilot to “ shove 
 of,” to “ resume his journey,” etc., Alen, moaning of his 
 folly in leaving the Castle, was forced to land, and to seek 
 
 *34 . 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 135 
 
 what shelter he could find at Artayne. Hoping to conceal 
 himself for the present, he took refuge in the house of 
 Hothe, and looked to be able to re-embark by the next 
 tide. 
 
 But the Silken Thomas, accompanied by his uncles, 
 Oliver and John, and followed by Nicholas Wafer and 
 John Teling, had hurried round the estuary by land, and at 
 once proceeded to the house of the man Hothe. The two 
 followers were sent in, and they found the Archbishop 
 cowering and trembling in bed. 
 
 Urged to speed by a shout from Sir Oliver, Teling 
 dragged the wretched priest out of the house in his shirt of 
 night. 
 
 The moment he saw the Geraldines, he dropped upon 
 his knees, and begged for pity on a Christian man and an 
 Archbishop, for the love of Heaven, and of God ! 
 
 It was plain, upon the instant, that the Archbishop had 
 a conviction of conscience as regards his treatment of the 
 FitzGeralds the moment he found himself at the mercy of 
 three of the family. 
 
 His own five brothers had written to the Warden of 
 Youghal College, urging him to move the King for the 
 arrest of Lord Thomas as a traitor, which at that time was 
 a slander to say, and was so by nearly a month. 
 
 Lord Thomas held no argument with the enemy of his 
 father ; but doubtless moved by his submission and his 
 appeal, he simply glanced contemptuously at the Arch- 
 bishop and turned away, saying in Irish : “ Beir naim an 
 Bodhach!” meaning, “Take away the churl !” or, “Take 
 the clown away from me ! ” 
 
136 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 It cannot be denied that the same words could bear the 
 meaning : “ Make away with the clown for me ! ” But it is 
 not to be believed that Lord Thomas meant the words to 
 be received in this sense, although, before he could turn 
 round, Wafer and Teling had read that meaning into them, 
 and in an instant had dashed out the Archbishop's 
 brains. 
 
 An accomplice, even that very Robert Reilly who was 
 once servant to the Earl in the Tower, and who surrendered 
 to the authorities, declares that he was himself sent here to 
 Maynooth with a casket which Lord Thomas had taken 
 from Alen, upon the day following the assassination. Of 
 this, we all upon the spot knew nothing. It need not be 
 said, that those of the following of the FitzGeralds, who 
 have known Lord Thomas from boyhood, are very sure 
 that he intended no more than the removal of the un- 
 friendly Archbishop to some place of security, where he 
 could be no longer a spy upon his actions, as he had been 
 the reporter of those of his father. 
 
 Where the incident afterwards came to touch us was 
 when my brother Charles received instructions from Lord 
 Thomas to proceed to Rome, and plead for absolution for 
 the killing of the Archbishop. 
 
 Alas ! there came back, but by another messenger, the 
 most horrible, the most barbarously-worded edict of ex- 
 communication that could be imagined by men, or by 
 devils I have the paper before me by copy as I write ; 
 and its minutiae are quite fantastic in their savagery, under 
 form of a Church Edict ! 1 
 
 1 See Appendix. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 99 137 
 
 Thus, step by step, did Silken Thomas sink deeper and 
 deeper in the slough of his destiny, and — what is more, 
 and different — of his sinning. 
 
 And when the news of the murder of the Archbishop 
 reached Murtagh, he flung his face down upon his folded 
 arms, which were pressed upon the table, and moaned sadly 
 the words of his prophecy in the market-place : 
 
 “ Blood ! ” he murmured ; “ blood, and death ! ” 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH 
 
 HOW THE EARL OF KILDARE FARED IN THE TOWER OF 
 LONDON, COMFORTED BY HIS LADY-WIFE; UNTIL BY 
 SHOCK OF NEWS OF HIS SON’S REBELLION, MURDERS, 
 AND EXCOMMUNICATION, HE SWOONS, IS PARALYSED, 
 AND AT THE LAST DIES 
 
 There hath come to my hands, whilst ordering papers and 
 parchments for the Family, in unofficial assistance of 
 Charles, who had to depart for Rome on brief notice, as 
 aforementioned, certain works in record-keeping, bearing 
 the following endorsement : — 
 
 “ Here follow divers Chronicles, written at the instance 
 of the Noble and Magnanimous Lord Gerald FitzGerald, 
 9th Earl of Kildare (and Lord-Deputy of Ireland) ; by 
 Philip Flattisbury, of Johnstown, near Naas — a.d. 1517, in 
 the ninth year of Henry the VUIth.” 
 
 (I go not into them very deeply ; but as the death of my 
 Lord’s first wife occurs as last of the entries, I opine that 
 the abrupt close of the records was explained thereby. Of 
 this mine own poor writing knoweth his Lordship naught.) 
 Meanwhile, how fared it with his Lordship? 
 
 It hath already been said how, upon being for the fourth 
 time ordered to England, my Lord had hesitated as never 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 139 
 
 before, had awaited receipt of the King's very paper in his 
 very hand ; and had sent his lady-wife over to beseech that 
 the order might be quashed. 
 
 The cunning enemies of the Earl had this time only 
 named his distress of inconsiderable persons for form’s 
 sake. Their real charges against him were of such nature as 
 to offend the King personally, and they succeeded. 
 
 Then, when he came to reply, his hurt, taken at Birr 
 Castle, had removed the grace and power from his aspect, 
 the smoothness and eloquence from his speech. They 
 who harkened, remembering the former man, deemed the 
 present condemned out of the very lagging of his lips. He 
 was declared guilty, and consigned to the Tower. There 
 remained with him his beloved Countess and his faithful 
 servant, Robert Reilly. 
 
 With a sudden increment of his bodily weakness and 
 mental despondency, came an eager longing for the 
 consolements of religion. 
 
 In conversation with the priest who attended upon 
 prisoners, the Earl dwelt much upon the fate of his former 
 foe, Wolsey, and on the sad words with which he had, to 
 Thomas Cromwell, bade farewell to office, and humbly 
 wished he had given more duty to God, even if no less to 
 His Majesty ! 
 
 “ Yes, father,” quoth he, “ this poor Earl of Kildare had 
 never (if the sinful creature of God may say so !) so much 
 put right-doing before him as of late days ! But our Liege 
 Master seemeth to me to have taken unto himself a new 
 hardness — again, if I may say so of my Sovereign — and 
 much more assertion of his own mind, since last I was 
 
140 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 brought before him. I do not seem to know the King, or 
 mayhap I did not know him aright formerly ! 
 
 “ Yet, methinks, I do prefer his royal sternness to the 
 plover-catching of the gentle Robertus Cowley, who sheddeth 
 tears like the softest crocodile, because of my long durance 
 by himself procured ! ” 
 
 “ How ‘ a plover-catcher,’ my son ? ” saith the priest. 
 
 “ Why, father, the snarer setteth his sprynges, and then 
 seizeth his birds. The frost bringeth water to his eyes; 
 but his thumb doth express the brains of the death- 
 shuddering birds for all his tears ! ” 
 
 In every shape he sought opportunity to make submission 
 to the King’s authority and his decrees ; and that not only 
 in his own personal regard, but for the part of his son, 
 Lord Thomas, whom he had left for his representation as 
 Deputy in Ireland. 
 
 His greatest comforts in life were these — his most de- 
 voted, his most loving, his right entirely noble wife was his 
 constant companion in the prison. 
 
 It hath often had occasion to be prayed by many injured 
 persons, “ Oh, Lord ! grant unto us good salvation from 
 the kind hands of our friends ! ” 
 
 Certes, that petition might our noble Countess of Kildare 
 have sent up, seeing how her own brother, Lord Leonard 
 Grey, hath fouled and soiled her name unworthily by his 
 letter that I have mine own self seen addressed, as is 
 with her endorsing, to the Secretary of State, and over date 
 18th June, 1533. With the air of believing that his sister, 
 born and baptized Lady Elizabeth Grey, had already written 
 to Thomas Cromwell to be her attorney in the business, 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 141 
 
 he taketh up her petition, as it were, that secretly, without 
 knowledge of her husband, the Earl, the Manors of Rath- 
 wear, Kilkea, and others, may be held for her and her son, 
 Gerald. She asketh to have the matter privily laboured, 
 because she doth opine that her husband would be more 
 gladder to get these Manors secured to Lord Offaly than to 
 his son begotten by her. But I know from Robert Reilly, 
 and otherwhence, that her daily song and parable is that 
 her dear cousin, the King, had kind thoughts ever behind 
 a countenance of official frowning — marking for himself the 
 doings, so brave and dutiful, of Lord Thomas, by her ever 
 dubbed, “ Our dear-beloved son Offaly.” 
 
 And it was this thought of the Countess , so piously made 
 for the cheer of her poor, failing husband, upon which Thomas 
 Cannon had laid hold to deceive De la Hoyde , for the ruin of 
 the said Lord Offaly, as shall be seen hereinafter. 
 
 Roused from lethargy and despond by this tenderness 
 and this hope, Lord Kildare, in exercise taken several times 
 daily whiles leaning upon his dear Lady Elizabeth’s arm, 
 retarded that evil day when the maims received at Birr 
 took off all powers from brain and limbs. 
 
 The cutting of sailing communication by bad tempests 
 did truly account for the long misunderstanding of the 
 Silken Thomas as touching his father’s death. It also 
 came as consolation from Lady Elizabeth’s lips when Lord 
 Kildare begged news of his son. 
 
 “None at all news, my dearest Lord,” she would say, 
 most tenderly, “ is all good news ! ” 
 
 Alas ! her loving kindness to spare her husband anxiety 
 
142 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 made the shock of the desperate tidings all the heavier 
 when they did come. 
 
 From that tender legend of a young governor’s being 
 benignly watched as to his bearing by his King, in the wish 
 to advance him ; from all the wife’s cheer of “ their dear 
 son ” doing them honour in their old age by his pious and 
 loyal ability in the conduct of affairs ; from cheering 
 promises of a return to their dear land, when Archbishop 
 Alen w r ould be reconciled to them, and give them his sup- 
 port in office and his consolation in religion — from all this 
 brightness, I say, of promise and hope, made around him 
 by the ceaseless love of his fond spouse, to what had not 
 the poor Earl to turn ? 
 
 Not* even to a due explanation of his miserable son’s 
 unhappy course, or one word of the false letter declaring 
 his (to wit, the Earl’s) death, which the son had received ! 
 But straight to a crude, sudden, unbroken, untempered 
 report of all : 
 
 “ His son had lost his head in his new dignity ; had 
 been so puffed up by his being let to represent the King 
 that he had deemed himself fitted to displace him ; had 
 slaughtered eighty innocent citizens in cold blood, after 
 seeking league with the King’s enemies all the world over; 
 had (like a caitiff and coward savage, without fear of 
 the Great God) murdered the aged Archbishop ; and (for 
 testimony of which now see the very paper in the hand of 
 the Lieutenant of the Tower) had been cursed, damned, 
 and excommunicated, in body and soul, in present and in 
 the future state, in name and fame, in blood, bone, and 
 marrow, everlasting. — Amen ! ” 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 143 
 
 I have held the paper in my very hands. 
 
 It was beyond any human bearing ! It was reported 
 with all sad accompaniments of the anger of Heaven by an 
 earthquake four days before the Archbishop’s murder ! It 
 came, with its disaster in spiritual matters, just when the 
 anxious father was most attuning himself to the making of 
 his soul. It meant the ruin of the family. It crushed the 
 hope that even Gerald, son of this dear wife now lying 
 prostrate, would be allowed to carry on the race in name, 
 title, or property. It was the end of all things in this 
 earthly world, and it was sheer damnation for that which is 
 to come ! 
 
 At knowing of all of which together, the Earl swooned 
 quite away; and when returned to his wits, had never more 
 the uses of his limbs ! 
 
 Since the sacrilegious murder occurred upon the 28th 
 July, and the awful edict of excommunication was its first 
 way of reaching my sad Lord and his wife; and since, 
 finally, the Earl of Kildare died on the 12th December, 
 1534, it is surely for fair record here that the same had his 
 death of a broken heart. 
 
 And, quite worn out with nursing him — or, exhausted by 
 the strain of being strength for him when she herself had 
 no strength, no hope — the sad lady survived him but a 
 little while. Which (as her own boy, Gerald, afterwards 
 head of the noble House of Kildare, still survived to be 
 the better of her influence and care) is the best answer to 
 the slanders of her brother, Lord Leonard Grey— to wit, 
 that all her wishes were for her own offspring’s aggrandise- 
 ment only. 
 
144 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS w 
 
 They buried the poor, sad Earhs body in the Chapel of 
 St. Peter, in that Tower of London which holdeth at rest 
 the hearts of many wearied. Some have sinned, and some 
 were sinned against ; but none had known more heights of 
 triumph, and more depths of downfall, or more changes of 
 love and sorrow, than this Gerald, ninth Earl of Kildare. 
 —PIP. 
 
 Upon his coffin men put these words : 
 
 “ Here Lieth the Corpse of the L. Gerald FitzGerald, 
 Earl of Kildare, who deceased the 12th December, in the 
 Year of Our Lord Mcccccxxxim., on whose Soul, Jesu 
 have Mercy ! ” 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH 
 
 GIVETH THE HISTORY OF THE SILKEN THOMAS — HIS FOOLISH 
 ESSAY TO TAKE DUBLIN AND ITS CASTLE — HIS DEFEAT 
 — AND HIS APPEAL FOR INTERCESSION WITH THE KING 
 
 Methinks that if Lady Offaly had abided with her 
 husband until the murder of the Archbishop, she had 
 then had more reasonable and lawful occasion for de- 
 clining concourse marital with one whose hands were so 
 blood-stained as his. 
 
 Yet, again, had she so abode, it is probable that such 
 miserable events had never occurred ! 
 
 All throughout this most melancholic time, nothing hath 
 more struck upon me than how the query of fact (id est 
 “ Whether the Lord Earl had been done to death or not ? ”) 
 had got pushed on one side. 
 
 Now, had he who hath well been dubbed “ Headlong 
 Hotspur ” had with him a loving wife, she having even half 
 the quick wit of the Lady Offaly, it is sure she would have 
 reasoned not at all, but gone straight to the question : 
 “ Hast thou had proof that the letter is true in its 
 substance and purport ? ” 
 
 And more, her so querying would probably have been in 
 time ! 
 
 Which matter of time hath close bearing upon Lord 
 X 4S k 
 
146 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 Thomas’s action. The day came when it mattered not 
 whether his father survived or nay, for he had by then so 
 committed himself that to point out the falseness of the 
 rumour upon which he had gone wild could be of none 
 effect. 
 
 But, all hope of pardon once over by the Archbishop’s 
 murder, Lord Thomas essayed boldness. 
 
 The first step thereafter was the riding to Howth, and 
 taking prisoner Lord Howth. 
 
 Next was seized the Lord Chief Justice — by name, 
 Luttrell. 
 
 And, again, the citizens and Lord Mayor, not having had 
 such assurance of instant help as would justify their resist- 
 ance in the depeopled state of the town, Lord Thomas was 
 allowed to besiege the Castle. All the pipes of oak wood, 
 and all the stone conduits supplying the fortress were cut ; 
 and the season was dry. 
 
 With six hundred men detached for the crazy enterprise 
 were two or three small cannons called Falcons. 
 
 The attacking companies first well enfenced themselves, 
 and then rudely seized many children of the citizens, placed 
 them above the defences, so that if the Castle guns were 
 trained upon them, the infants would assuredly be slain ! 
 
 But although it was at this point that Lord Thomas bad 
 his triumph over the Butlers, Alderman Herbert’s answer 
 from the King began the downfall of the enterprise. 
 
 Instant support in their loyal position being promised, 
 the citizens at last took courage to shut their gates in the 
 face of the enemy. Many swam the river, but a large tale 
 of them were secured. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 147 
 
 Lord Thomas complained, and again seized children of 
 the citizens. He tore down the ends of the thatched 
 houses running along Thomas Street, so making a sheltered 
 alley on the ridge overlooking the valley of the Castle for 
 his men. 
 
 Nevertheless, many of his following were wounded ; 
 and so his people tried to burn the Castle gates for 
 revenge. 
 
 Now, mark what happened. 
 
 Lord Thomas had enforced all his men; and they had no 
 heart in his quarrel. 
 
 “ Why are we taken from our homes, and made rebels of, 
 except it be that the Earl has been unjustly murthered ? ” 
 they muttered amongst themselves. “ And of that there is 
 no proof to go against what we hear to the contrary. And 
 if this ‘ Silken Thomas ’ cannot guaranty our heads on our 
 shoulders from the anger of a King of this world, how far 
 less can he make our peace with all we may offend in 
 another, he being himself out of all contact of Salvation by 
 reason of the Holy Father’s awful banning ? ” 
 
 As those in the Castle soon found arrows having no 
 heads being shot in, they saw that the attack was heartless. 
 They sent abroad the word that help was by the doorstep ; 
 and four hundred men of the garrison darting forth without 
 warning, surprised and dispersed the Silken Thomas’s army, 
 killing four score, and taking his big guns. It was with 
 the help of the smoke and the flame in the burning of the 
 gates by his own people that the sally which destroyed him 
 was able to be carried out ; and an hundred were quickly 
 slain. 
 
148 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 From that time, all was downhill with the Silken 
 Thomas ! 
 
 Flying from before the Castle, he took refuge at the Grey 
 Friar Monastery, in the street of St. Francis, and slept 
 there that night. Next morning he stole away to his army 
 of unarmed men, with the news in his ear that the fleet was 
 surely coming. 
 
 Murtagh, having at last come into touch with Lord 
 Thomas, begged him to submit without sinking himself 
 deeper in the mire ; and for a beginning, and for parleying 
 time, advised him to treat with the chiefs of the city, asking 
 them to release his people, and that they should intercede 
 for him with the King. 
 
 But the Silken Thomas, who had purposely avoided 
 Murtagh all this time, whilst acting partly upon his counsel, 
 spoiled the matter by adding that the citizens should give 
 him £800 or ^1,000 in money, and ^500 in wares ; and 
 furnish him with artillery and the stores necessary for war, 
 all such requests being most foolish ! 
 
 The Recorder agreed alone to the terms which Murtagh 
 had proposed. The prisoners would be exchanged for the 
 children ; and the citizens would address a favourable letter 
 to His Majesty, praying for the gracious pardon of the 
 captain and his confederates. 
 
 But as regards the conditions so foolishly added by Lord 
 Thomas, they advertised him that, made into poor men 
 by his wars, they would give him neither money nor 
 wares. 
 
 They also wondered he could let himself be caught in 
 such contradictions ! If he did not mean to continue his 
 
THE WEIRD OP €t THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 149 
 
 treason, but was minded to seek their good offices with the 
 King for a pardon, what need had he, forsooth, of arms and 
 munition ? But if he desired to plague them by prolong- 
 ing his rebellions, they were no fools to give him rods to 
 harry their own backs withal ! 
 
 “ Had Lord Thomas asked for good parchment vellum, 
 whereupon to engross his pleadings for pardon, they had 
 understood it better. They would give him all the inter- 
 cessions they could by word or letter; but no artillery 
 wherewith to outstand the King’s officers.” 
 
 Lord Thomas got what Murtagh had advised his asking — 
 no more, and nothing less. And then he and Murtagh 
 paid a hurried visit to the Castle at Maynooth, where orders 
 were made for the fortification and victualling of which 
 there would be need if a siege had to be endured. Hear- 
 ing that the English troops, or some of them, were about 
 landing, he hurried back to his two hundred poorly-armed 
 followers, and gave battle to eighty well-armed men under 
 two captains, named Hamerton, one of whom slightly 
 wounded Lord Thomas in the forehead. Here, to the 
 Silken Thomas’s great grief, was killed a Musgrave, a 
 kinsman ; and here, too, did his small artillery fire so fast 
 on the ships that they fled to Skerries. 
 
 But Sir William Skeffington and Sir William Brereton 
 landed at another point without opposition, and got much 
 welcome in Dublin. 
 
 Nevertheless, many things prevented the crushing of the 
 Silken Thomas’s rebellion. 
 
 Sir William Skeffington was ill, the winter was near, and 
 beyond a march to Drogheda, where Skeffington’s army 
 
0 THE WEIRD OF “ TEE SILKEN THOMAS ’* 
 
 stayed for a week, nothing was done for many long and 
 anxious months. 
 
 At last Sir William Brereton took up more of the control 
 of affairs. 
 
 Marching against the Castle here, he had a meeting with 
 Lord Thomas’s party, and won a bloody victory over him, 
 so that there was a bitter keening amongst families in 
 Maynooth, on my right hand and upon my left. Yet am I 
 fain to say that no undue violence was done, nor any 
 ravaging or ravishing, or arson ; so that we had no fear or 
 trouble, except in sorrow for others, and mine own helpless- 
 ness to aid anyone, gentle or simple. 
 
 Among the injured was my Moina’s father; so as she of 
 needs devoted herself to him, I saw the less of my dearest 
 heart, for which disadvantage my good Aunt Yimbela made 
 what compensation she could, not only doubling her own 
 care of me, but by moving Murtagh, for my good as well as 
 his own, to abide still more at rest with me. 
 
 “ When the boar will to the mire, dear Murtagh,” she 
 said, “the cat cannot purge him by fouling her dainty paws. 
 We have it from thine own lips that there lieth a destiny 
 before Lord Thomas. If thou canst turn aside from him 
 what is evil in that same weird by the deaths of me, of 
 Martyn, and thyself, arise now and slay us, and our blood 
 be upon our own heads ! But if thou canst work no good 
 even by a great sacrifice, then waste thyself no more in a 
 pitchforking of the tide backwards. If all I hear be true, 
 thou hast had no welcome for thine advice from Lord 
 Thomas. Let him be ! ” 
 
 1 have known no one move Murtagh so much as my 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 151 
 
 gentle Aunt Vimbela. He sighed deeply, and passed to his 
 room ; but thereafter much gave over his wanderings. 
 
 When Murtagh had come down from his garret, a new 
 look was in his face. 
 
 “ The English are moving against the Castle,” said he. 
 “ I see the banner of the King, and that of Sir William 
 Brereton, at the head of many thousands 1 We have had 
 blood and death ; now we must feel the shame and pain of 
 treachery ! ” 
 
 And so he strode out ! 
 
 That day died Moina’s father, after rehearsing many kind 
 words for me. 
 
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH 
 
 WHICH TELLETH OF THE BETRAYAL OF THE CASTLE OF 
 THE GERALDINES BY CHRISTOPHER PARESE, AFTER A 
 BRIEF WORD ANENT THE AFFAIRS OF THE SCRIVENER 
 
 Not in anywise violent in the village, as I am bound to 
 confess, the trained men of the great army which thus 
 set down before the Castle for its beleaguerment were 
 especially courteous to the small house overlooking the 
 market-place, where I passed the long days and nights. I 
 mourned that I was helpless in such troublous times ; but, 
 an I may confess it, I was sore wrought in mine own mind 
 against the foolishness of Lord Thomas, which by now was 
 plainly advertised as having none excuse in any such matter 
 as a murder, an execution, or a death in any wise, of his 
 father. 
 
 Not to thrust mine own affairs into the midst of great 
 matters, I may say that, barring some bone-displacement in 
 my back, which with half an egg-shell I could cover, I have 
 little to cry out about. Full senses have come back to my 
 legs. Murtagh hath chiselled out curious hand-stones, like 
 hour-glasses, which I have learned to whirl around and 
 about my head, with much keenness of appetite brought 
 thereby. My work of scrivenery, too, goeth on. 
 
 Mona’s widowed mother, at our solicitation, hath come 
 
 152 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 153 
 
 to dwell with us ; for the house hath four living rooms and 
 a great cooking-hearth. 
 
 But, ah, the sadness of it as we lay, or sat, and heard the 
 booming of the cannon ! 
 
 For it was now the 14th of March, in the year of Christ’s 
 Salvation, 1535 ; and Sir William Brereton, under the ailing 
 Deputy, Skeffington, having first offered liberty unto all, or 
 any, to depart out of the Castle, with bag and baggage, 
 pardon and reward, hath now attacked our Castle from the 
 north, from Crowhill. 
 
 Lord Thomas had followed his father in armamenting 
 and supplying the Castle, which was, indeed, full of all 
 stores, and deemed to be impregnable. 
 
 Therefore when the Herald, after a fanfare, read aloud a 
 copy of the offer, and laid it under a white flag on the road- 
 way, many voices scoffed, and men cried aloud that the 
 offer was of Sir William Brereton’s gentleness rather than 
 of any deserving of theirs. They besought him to make the 
 kind offer every day for a year, and, with much gravity, 
 said he should carefully keep his head warm ! 
 
 So, when the time named in the offer was over-passed, 
 the battering went on for a fortnight. A dreary and 
 disturbed time for us. 
 
 Now be it well understood that Lord Thomas was not in 
 the Castle its defence ; but away working further mischief 
 for his enemies in Kilkenny, and drawing to his standard 
 of the red saltire many to whom he gave promise of 
 booty, a share of control, a livery, and the weapons of war 
 and the best feeding after forays. 
 
 Be it also remembered how Christopher 
 
154 
 
 THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS 3 
 
 was foster-brother to Lord Thomas, had joined Patrick 
 Cannon in challenging Murtagh upon his prophesyings, 
 upon the day when our ears tingled to the false story of the 
 Earl’s murder by the King. “ Whoever deserted the house 
 of Kildare, yet would not he, at whose mother’s breast the 
 infant Lord Thomas had been nurtured.” 
 
 With similar words had this Parese won his noble foster- 
 brother’s confidence, so that when he had to nominate one 
 in charge to defend the Castle, who but Parese was he ? 
 
 The battering proceeded ; and on occasion the confident 
 defenders jeered (as afore-mentioned) those who made the 
 assault. And, certes, it was indeed most probable that the 
 great walls would have withstood all that artillery could do 
 against them ; while the food was ample, and the water 
 from a well of great depth and plenteousness. 
 
 But unto Christopher Parese the commending of con- 
 science for trust well discharged, for duty well done, came 
 to seem as nothing in comparison of gold. And so, about 
 the fourteenth day of the beleaguerment, he shot an arrow 
 into the camp of the besiegers. Round the shaft was a 
 letter, in which he voluntarily proposed to take a sum in 
 gold down, and a provision for his life, as his reward for 
 betraying the impregnable Castle of Maynooth. He would 
 understand that Sir William Skeffington agreed to his 
 terms, if, at a certain hour, two guns were fired together, 
 and a man waved a flag so many times. 
 
 The hour arrived. 
 
 The two guns boomed off ; but beyond the hitting of the 
 Is, no one questioned had anything happened out of 
 
THE WEiRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 155 
 
 And although a man in the besieging camp was seen 
 waving a yellow flag, it meant nought to any eyes in the 
 Castle but those which were in expectation of it — and 
 which even the fair daylight should have blasted, if poets’ 
 justice happed upon evil-doers whenever they deserved it. 
 
 The evening of that shameful day came. 
 
 It was Thursday in Passion Week, 23rd of March, 1535. 
 
 Christopher Parese drugged the beer of the men who 
 had watch and ward in the first and second gate-rooms ; so 
 they not only slept, but very near died. 
 
 At the gloaming of the dawn, Parese made signs to the 
 investing army, and a select body under Sir William 
 Brereton moved silently into the doomed fortress. The 
 first man in was Holland ; and he, in full armour, fell 
 head-long into a tun of feathers. 
 
 At that instant, Sir William Brereton, being well within 
 the fortress, shouted, “ St. George, St. George for Merrie 
 England ! 99 and the guards awoke from their poisoned 
 sleep, to find the passages crowded with armed men, all 
 enemies. One of these, now bitterly wide awake, seeing 
 Holland struggling to rid himself of the feathers, fired an 
 arrow at him, which missed ; whereupon Holland, being 
 assisted, shot his foe through the head. 
 
 There was some resistance. Some yielded, some were slain. 
 But with his own hand, Sir William ran up his own standard 
 upon the highest tower ; and the Deputy entered at noon. 
 
 The booty was extraordinarily great and rich, for until a 
 few days before the fortress must be closed for the attack, 
 Lord Thomas had poured in the best of all his movable 
 property — to make no mention of all the chattels sent in of 
 late years by the Earl 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH 
 
 RECOUNTING THE TREACHEROUS PUNISHMENT OF CHRIS- 
 TOPHER PARESE’S TREACHERY, AND THE QUAINT PART 
 PLAYED BY ONE BOYCE 
 
 When Sir William strode into the very heart of the Castle, 
 two choirmen, one of the De la Hoydes, and Hayward, 
 sang a song called “ Dulcis Arnica ” so sweetly, as even to 
 touch the Lord Deputy’s heart. By consequence they were 
 forgiven — a Chief Justice consenting. 
 
 But seeing Sir William Skeffington bearing a most glad- 
 some countenance, and greedy now for the reward of his 
 three-accursed treachery, the wretched Parese, gaily smiling, 
 came forward and made his courtesy to Sir William. 
 
 Looking long at him in silence, the Deputy, having 
 found him a plastic creature in strong hands, and being 
 resolved to have nothing further to do with such services, 
 thus queried of him, in order that he might be condemned 
 out of his own mouth : 
 
 “Christopher Parese, I have it in command to thank 
 thee upon the behalf of the King’s majesty for his service, 
 preferred and carried through by thee. I acknowledge 
 that by the same have been saved much charges and 
 many valiant lives of His Highness’s soldiers. 
 
 “ When the King shall be advertised thereof, I take upon 
 
 156 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 157 
 
 me to say that he would not see thee lack during the 
 remaining term of thy life. 
 
 “ Now, therefore, so as I may be the wiser instructed 
 how to repay thee whiles I have authority, I crave to learn 
 what emoluments, boons, honours, trusts, and advantages 
 thy late master hath been in custom to accord to thee 
 for thy services ? ” 
 
 Now, Parese felt assured from these addresses that at 
 the least he would obtain knightage, as, for less serious 
 services, did Sir Frances Herbert, as well as good provision 
 in annual payment for his lifetime. But he opined also 
 that by the amount of his benefits in the service of the 
 Geraldines would be gauged the rewards of the King. 
 
 Therefore, besides all pay and allowances, he set forth 
 the particulars of all loving acts, all kindnesses, all trusts, all 
 comforts and honours done him by the Earl of Kildare, 
 and by his own noble foster-brother, Lord Thomas, who had 
 placed the defence of the Castle in his hands, showing a 
 loving confidence to that very hour ! 
 
 When he could lay tongue upon none other goodness of 
 his late masters, and so, with smiles, became expectantly 
 silent — this had he from Sir William Skeffington : 
 
 “ Why, Parese, assuredly thou must be a-romancing ! 
 What ! after all these goodnesses, all these confidences, all 
 these love and gentlesse, canst thou have truly put thyself to 
 all such loss of body, all such strain of heart and estate, to 
 serve the King? Is all this thine account, true in spirit 
 and true in detail, or am I to take it as varnished for a 
 purpose, or eat it with a grain of salt ? ” 
 
 ‘ 4 All I have said, your Excellency,” said Parese, very 
 
158 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 joyfully smiling, “was a true account of my case as in 
 service of the Earls of Kildare and the Lords of the 
 Manor and Castle of Maynooth ! ” 
 
 “ Sirrah ! ” shouted Sir William Skeffington, “ couldest 
 thou find it in thy stomach — I say not heart, for heart 
 thou hast none such thing — to betray his Castle who hath 
 been thy foster-brother first, and in these very latest days 
 a master, lord, and friend, after so sweet and generous a 
 fashion? Verily, one who hath been so hollow to him 
 will never be solid in the truth to serve the King’s 
 majesty, or us the King’s servants ! 
 
 “ Is this thy paper, sent on the arrow-bolt yesterday, and 
 replied to by our signal as arranged ? ” 
 
 Pale and trembling, Parese bent forward to look at the 
 paper. 
 
 In it he had stipulated for ^1,000 in gold, and to be 
 furnished so as never to lack provision for his life. 
 
 After such high hope of knighthood, and I know not 
 what all, as Sir William Skeffington’s first words made him 
 foster, to merely receive the letter of his bond was a bad 
 coming back. 
 
 Nevertheless, he smelled danger in the last scornful 
 address ; so he murmured that he would expect no more 
 than he had termed for in that writing. 
 
 Sir William turned, as it were, to arrange the life 
 provision, but it was only to give this commandment : 
 
 “ Deliver now to this false hound that sum of gold which 
 I have promised him to be delivered upon the surrender of 
 the Castle.” 
 
 Four men in readiness produced bags of gold, each con- 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 99 159 
 
 taining two hundred and fifty pounds. These they laid at 
 Parese’s feet, who very miserly laid arms around the same, 
 and prepared to secure them to his uses. 
 
 But then Sir William cried aloud : 
 
 “ I further covenanted with thee that, by provision to be 
 made thee on the King’s behalf, thou shouldst never lack 
 for the remainder of thy life. At this moment thou lackest 
 not assuredly, having thy thousand pounds unspent in 
 hand. And for the future thou shalt be as little in want. 
 Strike off his head ! ” 
 
 This last was to the great sword-bearing soldier whom 
 the knight had in readiness as executioner. 
 
 Trembling and blubbering, Parese shrieked out : 
 
 “ Alas, sir, your Lordship had not won this fortress so 
 bloodlessly had I known how strictly thou thirstedst for 
 blood of mine ! ” 
 
 “ Ainthragh ! ” roared out one Boyce, the loyal, loving 
 friend of all the Earls of Kildare — the word in the Irish 
 tongue signifying “ Too late ! ” 
 
 Plainly, to have uttered it put a danger upon the worthy 
 head of Boyce ; for it showed a rage at Parese’s betrayal of 
 the Castle of those who were Boyce’s good friends. 
 
 “ What said he ? ” called the Deputy of those who stood 
 about. 
 
 But Boyce became his own lawyer and interpreter on the 
 instant. 
 
 “ My Lord Deputy,” quoth he, saluting, “ before that 
 Christopher Parese shall be executed, I beg your Lordship 
 to have advertisement that he is at this day seized and 
 possessed of the. revenues o r a village yclept Anteragh, 
 
160 THE WEIRD OF “.THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 which are worth a thousand pounds, but of which I have 
 never a penny received of him. I ask, then, what disposal 
 he wills to — ” 
 
 “ Man ! ” shouted Sir William to the executioner, “ do 
 thine office on the instant ! ” 
 
 As the traitor’s head rolled off, the Deputy cried out : 
 
 “ Now, hand over that Judas money to this gentleman ! ” 
 Boyce, without further words, laid the sacks of gold 
 across the shoulders of as many men of the garrison, and, 
 saluting, passed away, unmolested and enriched ! Whose 
 wit had saved his head ; whose loyal anger for the Ger- 
 aldines had made a lapse in the prudence of his wit that 
 had well-nigh cost him his life ; and who benefited by a rash, 
 splenetic word of loyalty, to the measure of all that Parese 
 had forgotten all his loyalty for. 
 
 All of which hath embodiment in the word which nearly 
 led to his undoing ; and when in Ireland a man will scoff 
 at the failure of a treacherous person, he will call out 
 “ Ainthragh ! ” or, where the legend runneth with the speak- 
 ing of English, the phrase is, “Too late, says Boyce ! ” 
 
 Sir William Skeffington, having hanged twenty-five of the 
 defenders, left a garrison in the Castle, returned in great 
 fettle to Dublin, and left Sir William Brereton to defend 
 the city, whiles he marched with the army to Naas. 
 
 Albeit, the bodily health of Sir William Skeffington was 
 not too ■ good, but he paled and wasted, and waxed feebler 
 daily. So that at last it became a great labour even 
 shakingly to sign his name to his reports to the King, as I 
 have myself seen. 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST 
 
 WHICH INQUIRETH WHETHER OR NO MURTAGH HAD 
 REASON FOR HIS THOUGHTS OF FINDING THE LETTER 
 WHICH DECEIVED LORD THOMAS ; AND SETTETH HIM 
 FORTH UPON THE QUEST THEREFOR, MARTYN 
 AGREEING 
 
 During many of the days before these events, Murtagh had 
 given himself over into moods of long and silent meditation ; 
 and bearing in mind how much more of action than of very 
 quiet thinking I had ever seen in my friend, I felt oft-times 
 disposed to enrouse him by questions, or to move him to 
 occupations. 
 
 I noted that, contrariwise, all in the house, if guided by 
 my dear Aunt Vimbela, left him to himself, and procured 
 all of peace and silence for him that might be. 
 
 At last [but this was three days before the betrayal of the 
 Castle, and whiles (because of its importance) Lord Thomas 
 might still have hope of some consideration if moved to a 
 sufficient humility] — at last, I say, I saw Murtagh prepar- 
 ing for a journey. And he seemed as one who desired 
 to be searched as regards his goings and his doings, or 
 purposings. 
 
 “ Murtagh,” said I, “ hast thou weighed mine aunt’s 
 
 parable ? Art thou minded to soil thy paws to no purpose, 
 
 161 l 
 
162 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS' 
 
 as a cat might be analogied to do, which would hope to 
 purge the vast hide of a thrice-wallowing boar by her 
 delicate pawings ? In a plainer word, can any good accrue 
 to Lord Thomas because of any desire of thine to throw 
 thine own head after his ? ” 
 
 “Alas, Martyn,” said Murtagh, very sadly, “ I have had, 
 whether I will it or nay, to go into harness of conviction 
 with Vimbela. But it is borne in on me that there is con- 
 nection betwixt the meeting of Lady Offaly with a gallant in 
 the oak coppice and the false rumour of the Earl’s death, 
 which hath set Lord Thomas off upon his foolish and deadly 
 quest ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, Murtagh, and thy success in challenging Patrick 
 Cannon with the two names of the man pointed to some 
 intrigue with the brother Thomas who is gifted in 
 scrivenery.” 
 
 Murtagh sprang to his feet 
 
 “ What, Martyn, seest thou the chain too ? ” 
 
 “ I have seen it from the first,” said I. “ My first and 
 only puzzlement hath been, what useful issue can we expect 
 from any study of such intrigue ? ” 
 
 “ The puzzle having answered itself in my poor mind 
 this day, it is which taketh me to Dublin.” 
 
 “ How, Murtagh ? ” 
 
 “When the letter was put in Lord Thomas’s hand, he 
 read it, and passed it to O’Connor, who presently 
 gave it to O’Niall ; since which it hath been seen no 
 more. 
 
 “ Now, word hath been received, answering reproaches, 
 from De la Hoyde ; and he protesteth that he signed no 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 163 
 
 paper purporting that the Earl had been beheaded, and no 
 short letter of any kind. 
 
 “There was, he saith, an anonymous epistle of four 
 pages’ length, which, by desire, he read and endorsed. 
 And this very gladly, since it set forth that His Majesty 
 would once more have returned the Earl in all authority to 
 Ireland, but for a benign intent to see how Lord Thomas 
 would bear himself in that high post, in which his father 
 had with some bravery placed him. The only reference 
 to any death in the letter which De la Hoyde signed was 
 where it said that the King would thereto have entreated 
 Lord Kildare’s enemies ! ” 
 
 “ Would God, then, that the short letter which maddened 
 Lord Thomas had been examined and preserved ! ” cried I. 
 
 “I go to see whether it may have been,” said Murtagh, 
 arising. 
 
 “ On some news of its keeping, Murtagh ? ” 
 
 “None.” 
 
 “ Then upon what hope ? ” said L 
 
 I know Murtagh so well that I saw he wished me to 
 pursue the questioning. I should equally have understood 
 had he desired that we should silently await issues. 
 
 “ On that day of St. Barnabas,” said Murtagh, bending 
 his head down on his folden arms — his way when he 
 thinketh deep — “upon that day when the letter was 
 handed to Lord Thomas, he and the friends who rode 
 beside him were the centres of many eyes. It remembers 
 me that the day was fine and breezy — the letter was lost 
 not far from the top of Ship Street, at entering the street 
 of St. Thomas. 
 
164 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 “Not many folden letters are dropped in our streets. 
 The gay troopers no sooner passed than some of the crowd 
 turned to follow after. A white letter on a sound road 
 would catch the eye. It may have got to the hands of an 
 enemy. He would secrete it. It may have come to the 
 possession of a friend. He would have returned it to Lord 
 Thomas. Lastly — and on this is my faint hope of useful- 
 ness founded — it may have been taken up by one who 
 could not read, and put aside for a reference and forgotten. 
 But of one thing I am assured — there is some misunder- 
 standing, or some false making of De la Hoyde’s name. 
 I shall see what may be done.” 
 
 “ Murtagh,” said I, “ suppose the letter was a blameable 
 or a false one, do you still think Lord Thomas would 
 humble himself to offer the same in excuse for his faults — 
 his murder of the Archbishop, to wit ? ” 
 
 “ At least, some inducement to do so would be stronger 
 than any other I can think of. I never think of what we 
 both witnessed in the oak coppice, when thou wast a 
 ghost, and little Jacob played the Banshee of the Geraldines, 
 without putting what there occurred together with the fact 
 that Lord Thomas was driven witless by a false letter.” 
 
 “ There was treachery, Murtagh,” said my Aunt Vimbela, 
 in a sharp tone unusual to her. 
 
 With one hand she gave him a packet of cakes — having 
 dried meat and butter laid therein — and a horn of beer. 
 With the other she handed him his staff, to the top of 
 which she had suspended his wooden sandals. 
 
 He took them, and whiles he shook my hand, she oped 
 the door. As he passed out, she gave him a sign of 
 
165 
 
 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 blessing ; and in an instant after his bending to receive it, 
 he was gone. 
 
 All this, it must not be forgot, fell out three days before 
 Parese’s treachery. 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND 
 
 THE IMITATIONS OF JACOB RANSTRAW HINT OF THE 
 DEVISINGS OF MURTAGH FOR THE BENEFIT OF 
 martyn’s MAIM 
 
 It was at such times of absence that my good aunt took 
 chance to ready Murtagh’s room. She placed my horn of 
 milk at my side, and passed by the ladder to the room 
 which Murtagh shared with the tiny dwarf. 
 
 Now, little Jacob ever sought to copy Murtagh. And 
 my aunt had told me that amongst Murtagh’s strange 
 ways, all of which in end proved to have had sense and 
 meaning and explanation, was his bringing home the bones 
 of animals with which he made some kind of study. 
 
 And Aunt Vimbela told me that upon this occasion, 
 when she entered the room, little Jacob only looked up 
 with the sweet smile which made his wee, weazened face 
 beautiful because of the love he had for Vimbela, and bent 
 himself down over Murtagh’s table. 
 
 Thereupon had often lain many rough bones of horse, 
 dog, or ox; but now Jacob had for toys many of a new 
 sort, which ran up and down upon a curved iron rod. 
 Vimbela looked, and lo ! Jacob got them into an order, so 
 that one matched fittingly into another, like rough and 
 irregular beads upon a giant’s bracelet, only laid along 
 the iron rod. 
 
 166 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 167 
 
 Then Jacob stood up, folded his arms, frowned, and 
 bent down his head while gazing at the quaint playthings. 
 He was most plainly imitating Murtagh ! 
 
 Suddenly the tiny being selected one of the biggest 
 of the bones, and laid it out of line with its fellows. A 
 long pause followed, and then the dwarf, laying all the 
 bones hard together along the rod, pressed the displaced 
 one. It slipped to its place with a snap, and the line of 
 bones was again even. 
 
 Jacob sprang to his feet, looked smilingly up to heaven, 
 and taking his little cloak from its place, made as one who 
 would go a journey. 
 
 “ He was plainly playing at being Murtagh. Martyn, 
 what can it all mean ? ” said my Aunt Vimbela. 
 
 “ I know not, dear aunt/’ said I; “I am following 
 Murtagh with all my heart on his patient quest to great 
 Eblana.” 
 
 “ Murtagh’s acts are never idle,” said my aunt quietly, 
 passing on to her duties of the house. 
 
 But the scene she had described dwelt upon me. Was 
 Murtagh seeking to understand my pain ? 
 
 An hour later Moina entered, Vimbela being gone 
 a-marketing. 
 
 “ Sweetheart,” said I, when our greeting was made, and 
 telling her what Aunt Vimbela had seen, I begged her to 
 “ go to Murtagh’s room and bring me the giant’s necklace 
 of rough bones.” 
 
 Moina was longer than I had thought she would be. 
 She had had to search diligently for anything answering to 
 what my aunt had described, and succeeded in finding a 
 
168 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 string of knuckle-bones of oxen, square and rough, lightly 
 running on an iron wire. I had seen such taken from 
 ancient tombs, and had heard that of olden times gambling 
 games had been played therewith. I smiled at Murtagh’s 
 keeping such toys, doubtless and plainly for the amusing of 
 his little charge, Jacob, and there an end. Moina restored 
 them to the corner where they had hung. Vimbela never 
 knew of my curiosity. 
 
 The next morn passed, and all day long, at uneven 
 spaces of time, the cannons boomed out sullenly; and 
 sometimes a mounted man galloped through the town, to 
 or from Dublin. 
 
 Sometimes a foraying party passed through for meat and 
 provender, or having the same in hand. We longed for 
 our friend to be with us. 
 
 The third day Murtagh returned. 
 
 I believe he had never slept in the meantime, and he 
 well-nigh sank beside his platter from fatigue. But there 
 was that in his face which I knew meant triumph. 
 
 He knew beforehand that Vimbela would not let him 
 speak until he had eaten, and so he waited. 
 
 I had never seen him eat so heartily. I thought of the 
 Abbot of Reading. 
 
 When at last he was content, he reclined upon a bench 
 and said : 
 
 “ Dear Vimbela, and Moina, and Martyn, ever remember 
 this day ! ” 
 
 Alas ! we had sore reason to remember it, but Murtagh’s 
 story was indeed wonderful. 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD 
 
 GIVETH ITS ACCOUNT OF MURTAGH’S FINDING OF THE 
 FATEFUL LETTER, THE ISSUES OF WHICH MAY NOT BE 
 UNEDGED BY FORESTALMENTS HERE 
 
 Arrived at Dublin, he had passed at once along St. 
 Thomas’s Street, at the point looking down Ship Street, to 
 the great tower of the Castle. 
 
 The sides and ends of the cottages had been removed in 
 many cases ; but those forming Ship Street, being in the 
 valley of fields below the ridge, had not been destroyed. 
 
 Murtagh knew the man who kept the horse-shoeing 
 forge, and he spoke to him at the door. 
 
 The troublous times had not treated him too badly. 
 Many horses of soldiers, and of rapidly-travelling citizens, 
 had had to be shod. 
 
 He remembered the day when Lord Thomas, riding 
 with his cavalcade to exercise in the fields about St. 
 Patrick’s great church, had passed up the hill. 
 
 Yes ! the day was a fine one. The roads were good. 
 
 No ; he had not heard of anything being picked up after 
 the passsage of the cavalcade. He had not seen any letter 
 handed to Lord Thomas FitzGerald. Sooth to say, a horse 
 about the middle of the troop had cast a shoe; but the 
 
 rider had at once jumped down, recovered the shoe, and 
 
 169 
 
170 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 9i 
 
 turned aside to the forge to have it put on. Let Murtagh 
 ask old Hanlon, the scavenger. 
 
 “ A good thought ! ” Murtagh said ; “ but I know not the 
 house.” 
 
 “ Colleen ! ” said the smith to a small girl just then 
 passing, “ I have an apple for thee if thou wilt show the 
 house of thine uncle to this friend of mine.” 
 
 Murtagh joined the child; and they came to the 
 entrance of an alley which ended at green grass of 
 the country. 
 
 Here was Hanlon’s cabin. He was from home his wife 
 said, at work. Since these Rapparee days, when people 
 pull whole streets down, there had been much heavy work, 
 putting away the litter from the torn thatches. Could the 
 Messer leave any message for Hanlon ? 
 
 Murtagh hesitated. 
 
 The quest upon which he was bent was a serious one to 
 him, and had bearings upon the lives and affairs of the 
 highest in the land. 
 
 But to ask a woman to tell her husband that a man had 
 come to inquire for a letter dropped in a troop of mounted 
 soldiers, upon the Feast of St. Barnabas, or, say the 
 nth of June, he speaking then upon the 27th of March 
 following, did seem so foolish that Murtagh was passing 
 on, saying he would see Hanlon later. 
 
 Seeing him give pause, the woman offered him 
 encouragement. 
 
 “If you have lost something, good sir,” she said, “let no 
 hopelessness of seeming prevent you leaving word for my 
 husband. Such wonders of findings have happed to him 
 
THE WEIRD OF " THE SILKEN THOMAS 19 171 
 
 that none need despair of coin or jewel until he hath leave 
 from Hanlon to do so ! ” 
 
 Then Murtagh told that it was only a letter, and that he 
 had never seen it ; that it was nine months ago since it had 
 been dropped ; and that be had little doubt it had blown 
 away, or been over-trodden. On his chance, however, he 
 had come. If Hanlon thought any good of routing out 
 papers and fragments picked up in his scavenging, he would 
 pay for his trouble of search for a letter. It would be 
 known by bearing the name of De la Hoyde, at least. 
 
 Here some children of the alley came along and listened. 
 
 Murtagh loved children. 
 
 “What a fair son this is, who clingeth to thy skirts/’ said 
 Murtagh, when the wife of the scavenger had repeated the 
 message aloud, for sureness. 
 
 “ It is my sister’s little boy,” said the woman, as the 
 child ran away to the house at the end of the alley. “ He 
 hath resolved to be a scavenger like his Uncle Mark. And 
 truly he hath eyes and ears for all that passeth ! What 
 wonder hath he now ? ” 
 
 “ Mother is out, Aunty,” said the child, in a low whisper, 
 “ and I cannot ask her. And you cannot read,” continued 
 the urchin, “so ask the man would his letter look like 
 this ? ” 
 
 So saying, he handed a folded letter to the woman, who 
 said : 
 
 “Yes, so be it : say is the lost letter like this one ; and 
 so shall my good man know for what-like thing he hath to 
 make his search.” 
 
 Murtagh took the document. 
 
172 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ** 
 
 A horse-shoe had stamped upon the paper, but little to 
 its injury. As he opened it, the first thing he noticed was 
 De la Hoyde’s signature. 
 
 Folding it very calmly, he placed it in a pocket from 
 which he drew a crown, and some brass money. 
 
 “I have never read the letter,” said he; “but it will 
 surely be of some likeness to this one. Therefore, I give 
 thee this crown for thy trouble in message-bearing, and 
 these pennies to thy clever weeny nephew. Let Hanlon 
 search, and bring me any such letter as this that he may 
 have found ; and if I take one, as I take this, why, I shall 
 likewise pay him for his trouble. How earnest thou by 
 this paper, avick ? ” said he, placing a hand upon the child’s 
 head. 
 
 “I found it up there,” said the urchin, “one day when 
 the sojers passed by, and I wept for not seeing them. I 
 would show it to father ; but I put it on the shelf, and 
 forgot it. I am very glad,” continued the child, “for I 
 never had so much money before; and I will look for 
 letters for the Messer every day ! ” 
 
 Gleefully clasping his few pence, he sped away ; and the 
 woman, looking with almost as much pleasure at her crown, 
 made her courtesy ; and Murtagh turned aside. 
 
 Gaining the fields at the Monastery of St. Francis, he at 
 last drew forth the letter, and read that to which Lord 
 Thomas owed his ex-communication and his position of 
 unjustified rebel. It is the same that I have given fully in 
 these records. 
 
 Read as it opened, no words could more plainly mean 
 that, after form of trial, Lord Thomas’s father had been all 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS M 173 
 
 suddenly haled forth, and hanged, drawn, beheaded, and 
 sundered in quarters, in the barbarous and grotesque 
 fashion done upon traitors ! 
 
 Murtagh read it twice through. 
 
 It was written by some person who desired to remain 
 unknown ; but, strange to say, it was plainly endorsed and 
 signed by James De la Hoyde, as by one who verified the 
 history, and who approved and endorsed the counsel given 
 within ! 
 
 Murtagh, greatly bewildered, folded the epistle, and 
 replacing it in his pocket, passed into the Monastery of 
 St. Francis, where he knew the lay-brother in charge 
 chirurgical of the Infirmary. 
 
 There be many homely simples in the country, alike 
 known to the Apothecary and Murtagh. But there was 
 much that was not understood of Murtagh in the making 
 up of the human body. Of all his studies therein at this 
 time I only knew, with a grateful heart, nigh upon twenty 
 months after ! 
 
 “ I understand, good Theobald,” said Murtagh, “ when 
 I see the bones of a dead horse, how its back was strong, 
 yet gave somewhat with its load. 
 
 “ But tell me this : a man standeth upright. Now that 
 would, methinks, need a strong bone, like the bone of 
 his thigh ; yet, if his back were such, how could he bend, 
 and stoop, and sway ? ” 
 
 So Theobald, the Tothecary of the Infirmary of the 
 Monastery of St. Francis, told Murtagh about men’s backs, 
 and showed him how they were arranged with many bones ; 
 with joints between, and pads of gristle; and how flesh 
 
174 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 held to their points upon the bones, so that men bent, or 
 stood upright, as pleased them. 
 
 Of all this conversation and teaching, I knew later that it 
 was pursued for love of me. Dear Murtagh ! 
 
 In due time, Murtagh started upon his homeward journey 
 to us at Maynooth. 
 
 But on the way he once more took the lying letter in 
 hand, and hissed against the writer of a thing so certain to 
 drive Lord Thomas to desperation and revenge, whereas all 
 its allegations were false ! 
 
 Upon this examination, Murtagh saw where a nail in the 
 horse-shoe had broken the tissue of the letter. But, to his 
 amaze, the breakage did not pierce the whole paper, or let 
 the daylight through. 
 
 And he saw another writing inside ! 
 
 The letter had appeared to be a short one, written upon 
 both sides of a single half sheet. 
 
 But now it could be seen to be a four-page epistle, with 
 two pages pasted together ! 
 
 Then Murtagh, fearful to entrust himself with separating 
 the pages, had put wings to his feet; and, upon the 
 moment when he had finished his meal, he put the letter in 
 my hand. 
 
 I delayed not about my preparations for dealing with the 
 letter. I held it over the steam from a small chaldron, 
 and when so damped, its sheets separated by their own 
 weight. 
 
 The within pages were fully used for writing. 
 
 And a devilish difference their pasting together had made 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 175 
 
 to Lord Thomas FitzGerald, his parents and family, and 
 their following ! 
 
 As concerning all of which, methinks I should write 
 better in a new chapter. 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH 
 
 IT SHOWETH THE TRUE INWARDNESS OF THE DAMNABLE 
 AND DEVILISH LETTER DECEPTFULLY PREPARED BY 
 THOMAS CANNON AT THE TEMPTATION OF THE GAL- 
 LANT CALLED “ SIR ARTHUR INGOLDSTHORP ” FOR 
 THE RUIN OF THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 Hard though it may be to get swallowing and credence for 
 such a story of cowardice, the following hath yet to be duly 
 set forth. 
 
 Upon the occasion when I, Baruk Fallon, was placed for 
 spring air in the coppice, and so heard the conversing of 
 Lady Thomas and the gallant named Cecil, who was 
 masquering under the name of Sir Arthur Ingoldsthorp, a 
 reader will remember that little Jacob Ranstraw played for 
 a banshee, and I myself was taken for a ghost arisen for 
 their reproach. 
 
 Fainting, I remember no more; but Murtagh declares 
 how this gallivanting Sir Arthur turned at once and fled, 
 without one thought of the lady for whom he had protested 
 so disloyal a love. 
 
 It will ever be a grief to me that Murtagh did not pursue 
 and take, and hand over to Lord Thomas, this vile 
 vampire ; for, with all her faults — of coldness and of 
 ingratitude for her unhappy husband’s great love — Lady 
 Offaly was a lady ; and had the wretched Cecil been taken 
 
THE WEIRD OF a THE SILKEN THOMAS 9f 177 
 
 and made give account of himself, veritably her scorn of his 
 coward selfishness would have led her to warn him, at his 
 peril, not to plot against her brave and devoted husband. 
 
 Alas ! in Murtagh’s care for me, and fearing the entire 
 death of me if he left me without aid, he let the caitiff flee, 
 who never slacked speed until he found means to get 
 carried to Dublin, where, catching a brigantine on the eve 
 of sailing, he took a place therein, and he never touched 
 Ireland again — unless, indeed, those are right who aver that 
 he was an officer of the Irish Treasury, whom I name not, 
 being uncertain. 
 
 Whether “ Cecil ” were a family name or one of baptism 
 hath never been certified — to me, at all events ; but we did 
 indeed believe it was the latter. 
 
 Murtagh said that the latest he saw of Lady Offaly, she 
 was feebly staggering towards the Castle, the branches 
 rending her dress and plucking her hair, inasmuch as, a 
 hand upon her left side, she went with closed eyes, as 
 blanched as even I ! And he never saw her again ! 
 
 Murtagh’s simples failed to enrouse me, and when aid 
 came, he had me carried home for the ministrance of mine 
 aunt and of Moina. 
 
 And in their hands I came to my wits. 
 
 It would appear that even the fright to his cowardly 
 heart could not wean this jealous foe of the fated Lord 
 Thomas from his vile purpose of hounding his successful 
 rival on to ruin. 
 
 Thomas Cannon had been a secretary to Sir William 
 Skeffington ; and upon this brave Sir Arthur’s return to 
 England, he came to plot with the same Thomas. 
 
 M 
 
178 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 With a devil’s ingenuity, he planned to play upon the 
 rash and impetuous young man’s filial nature, by causing 
 him to be falsely advertised of his father’s having been 
 beheaded as a traitor in the Tower of London. 
 
 “But, sir!” objected Thomas Cannon, at the first hint 
 of the hellish plot, “ he will surely take no action till he 
 have assured himself how that his father really hath been 
 done to death.” 
 
 “ So speaks the mere clerk ! ” said the doubly false Sir 
 Arthur insolently ; “ now hear the diplomatist. Hath 
 Lord Thomas any friend whose sign he would accept for 
 surety of statements made in a letter? Anyone, that is, 
 upon whom thou couldest early lay finger ? ” 
 
 “ Why, sir, there are some of the Greys who are well 
 affected towards him, and Lord Slane hath often faithfully 
 advised him. Then there is De la Hoyde, not just now 
 here present in London, who hath great opinions of 
 Lord Thomas’s intelligence, but great fears for his 
 calmness and discretion. Him we can reach in Dublin.” 
 Now, it had come as a gossip to the false hound who 
 called himself “ Sir Arthur ” how Lady Kildare had 
 soothed her over-burdened husband before his death by 
 saying that her cousin, the King, meant to look on at 
 Lord Thomas’s doings in authority with a friendly eye. 
 
 Also, he had seen De la Hoyde passing out of the 
 Tower upon the very day that he himself had arrived in 
 London, fleeing back from the side of Lady Offaly. 
 
 Craftily putting these items of news and facts together 
 then, what maketh he but a design of a letter which should 
 be friendly anonymous, in the terms of De la Hoyde’s 
 
The weird of “the silked thomas ’* 179 
 
 own advice, and having Lady Kildare’s own hope therein. 
 But the same afterwards, having had the pages plastered 
 together, should be readable with a vast and accursed 
 difference ! 
 
 And so was the rash and haughty young Deputy to be 
 hounded on to the desired ruin ! 
 
 Closeted with Thomas Cannon, and having only Patrick 
 Cannon for a partner, the devil’s valentine was out- 
 written. 
 
 For a convenience in referring to the paper, 1 insert a 
 copy of the vile work as it was when laid before De la 
 Hoyde for his endorsement by signature. 
 
 It may then be again read as Lord Thomas saw it — 
 id est , pasted to make a letter of one sheet. 
 
 For, being instigated and instructed by the devil, Sir 
 Arthur Ingoldsthorp had pasted the pages together, so 
 making the writing breathe out cursing and murder, over the 
 sign and seal of the judicious and friendly De la Hoyde ! 
 
 But, alas ! here it is, as the fair-promising and wise 
 thing it was when he signed it ! 
 
 At the Sign of the c< Moon Cow ” ; 
 
 The Fleete ; London ; 8th June, 
 
 1 534 - 
 
 To 
 
 The Revd. Father in God, 
 
 Edwardus Carey ; 
 
 In the small Church in High Street, 
 
 Dublin. 
 
 Greeting ! 
 
 I, an unknown friend, here enfixed in London, and loving 
 even the dog of a FitzGerald, do yet greatly presume, in essaying the 
 drawing of the Lord Thomas FitzGerald to any keener feeling than 
 he at present hath, of the great filial and family duty, which, before 
 
180 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 all Governorships, ceremonials, authorities, or ambitions, now lieth so 
 weightily upon him. 
 
 For, in a word, his noble father, having earlier been taken 
 into honorable trial by The King, hath, just at this writing 
 heard from His Majesty that it is once more intended to make the 
 Geraldine Family the sealed accredited bearers of Flis Majesty’s dignity 
 and authority in Ireland. For all mine unworthiness, I have yet 
 had the means to learn that His Majesty hath bent personal attent to 
 the oppositions offered to The Earl of Kildare and his family, in the wise 
 wielding of their great power, and their knowledge of men for the better 
 ordering of affairs in His, to wit The King’s, provinces in Ireland. And 
 the same of the tribes, lands, chattels, properties, etcetera , and peoples 
 under their own and the other great and noble governing families. 
 And to that end, he would on the instant return, with all authoritie, 
 and with every honor, Lord Kildare, Lord Thomas’s father, to Ireland, 
 for the confusion of his enemies, were it not that the Gracious 
 Sovereigne hath a most beneficent curiosity to see for himself how, 
 without prompting, Lord Thomas will personally bear himself as now 
 placed, in the very flower of his youth, having such great and weighty 
 charges upon him. 
 
 Therefore, dear Father, make all diligence, when cometh this 
 writing unto thee, to urge upon Lord Thomas all zeale with discretion 
 in Governance, — all tenderness to the peoples, — with firmness that is, — 
 and all Loyalty to The Gracious Sovereigne. And as for his enemies, 
 they would, if here present to-day, have been cut shorter, or 
 
 been sternly done 
 lingering and gro- 
 legal to be done upon 
 
 I implore thee, 
 say unto him : u Up 
 and worthy of thy 
 prompt him in parti- 
 ly set out my plain 
 thy time with a longer 
 
 But I pass this to 
 of that of the loyal 
 the tried and true in 
 Geraldines, whom I 
 his word of know- 
 tion to mine all too 
 
 l-H w 
 
 Heed this Worthily. — 
 Thy Friend, 
 
 James De la Hoyde. 
 
 In testimony whereof he hath above affixed 
 rest, thy dutiful friend and servant, — 
 
 to death, — even the 
 tesque death still 
 traitors ! 
 
 therefore, Father, to 
 then ! and be a man, 
 race ! ” I may not 
 culars, or more plain- 
 meaning ; or even fill 
 letter. 
 
 thine hand after touch 
 friend De la Hoyde, 
 all affairs of The 
 have prayed to add 
 ledge and approba- 
 brief counsel, 
 his sign. And so I 
 
 That-may-not-name-him. 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH 
 
 THE HEAT OF MY AUNT VIMBELA TO URGE LORD THOMAS 
 TO PLEAD THE DECEIT DONE ON HIM, AND OBTAIN HIS 
 LIFE BY THE SURRENDER OF HIS STRONGHOLD ; BUT 
 THE LAST CAST OF THE DIE WAS LOST 
 
 The four who were present at my reading aloud of this 
 letter, with its devilish double meaning, were my Aunt 
 Vimbela, Moina, Murtagh, and, to be sure, myself, whilst 
 Moina’s mother was away to buy bread and flesh, and to 
 gather cresses at the brook. 
 
 When I had finished reading, pointing to the words, and 
 showing the difference made by sticking the leaves together, 
 there was a silence amongst us, which was first broken when 
 Moina burst into a flood of tears ! 
 
 The grimness which overshadowed Murtagh’s face was 
 terrible to behold. He continued silent. 
 
 Dazed and stunned, I but looked from one to the other- 
 
 I had lived to hold in my hand the fruits of the very plot 
 conceived by the villain Cecil in the oak coppice, which 
 Lady Offaly had said she would neither further nor hinder ! 
 
 Had she then promised her hand or her favour to her 
 former gallant, I should have waited but a short time before 
 I branded her as responsible in moral senses for the murders 
 done by Lord Thomas, her husband, after reading the letter. 
 
 ?8i 
 
182 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 But it was my Aunt Vimbela’s voice, ever before so 
 sweet and musical, which now first broke silence, shrill and 
 harsh. 
 
 “ Thrice accursed,” she called aloud, “ be the brain that 
 plotted, and the hand that formed, this foul thing ! Thrice 
 over fall upon them every curse in the Edict from Rome 
 about Offaly ! I cannot breathe with that hell-clawed 
 epistle spread out before me ! It is white, written with 
 black, stained a little with honest mud and a horse’s shoe ; 
 but if the works of damnation made the marks of damnation, 
 then had it been scarlet like blood, and writ in hell-fire ! 
 
 “ Murtagh ! thou wilt fly to Lord Thomas and show him 
 this ! But, alas ! it is now thy time for needed rest — / 
 — I will go ! 
 
 “ As the Lord liveth , he shall humble himself to the King , 
 showing this letter for his excuse 1 
 
 “ Fold the paper tenderly, Martyn, as though we loved it ! 
 
 “ Stay me not ! I will go ! 
 
 “ Lord Thomas hath still many servants, and much help 
 of munitions from the O’Conor Don. His mighty Castle 
 standeth, certain long to defy any assault that the King’s 
 men may bring against it. It were worth the King’s while 
 to save the lives and times and costs of all the sieging ; and 
 these shall Offaly offer up to the King’s majesty ! 
 
 “ And my Lady Kildare, who is the King’s own cousin, 
 shall plead for her stepson. All will be well ! 
 
 “ In God’s name, give me the writing ! Offaly hath such 
 few stakes that nothing must be for an hour risked ! I 
 tremble even for the strong Castle now ! This morning I 
 deemed if to have twelve months of fight in its mighty 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 183 
 
 walls ! My cloak ! my pattens ! some money from the 
 stocking ! Now^ the letter ! ” 
 
 But just then the door flung open ; Moina’s mother, pale 
 and staring, rushed in, and miserably dropping all she had 
 in her hands on floor and tables, she gasped out : 
 
 “ All is over ! The Deputy’s standard floats over the 
 Castle ! The sojers are within ! Christopher Parese, for 
 a thousand pounds, hath betrayed the garrison ! There is 
 no ray of light for Lord Thomas ! ” 
 
 “ Vimbela ! thou art good and brave,” murmured the 
 Prophet ; “ but remove thy cloak ! It was the weird of 
 the Silken Thomas to suffer from treachery, and to be guilty 
 of profitless blood-shedding ! Yesterday, for his Castle, he 
 might have had at the least his poor life. To-day he hath 
 nothing to offer ; and were he to give himself up, why, the 
 devil might thank him, for all the King would ! Ye rightly 
 say it is over ! And we of this house can do no more ! ” 
 
 At Murtagh’s words, Vimbela slowly removed her cloak, 
 and shook her head. And as she turned away to prepare a 
 meal, many soldiers ramped across the market-place beating 
 drums, blowing trumps, wheezing pipes, and cheering for 
 the King’s majesty, who had triumphed over the caitiff 
 rebel, FitzGerald, and eaten up his mighty Castle ! 
 
 So our meal was sad, and we sorrowfully wondered what 
 had befallen to the ladies FitzGerald. They had moved 
 to their sister’s house when the certainty came of the 
 Castle’s long besiegement ; and later, away from our 
 province, but we knew not whither. 
 
184 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 9f 
 
 I thought it strange that Murtagh could so soon change 
 his thought when he turned to me, and pressed queries 
 about my back. 
 
 Was I more at ease as I lay straight, or on my side, or 
 my face, or bent ? Had I hot shootings down the legs ? 
 Were there movings in the back when I moved ? And a 
 dozen more. 
 
 With the treachery of Parese, the loss of Lord Thomas’s 
 last chance, the roystering of the soldiers, the firing of 
 some houses — for no cause that ever we heard — and the 
 other cares of the time on our hearts, it seemed that the 
 questions were beside all purpose. 
 
 So, with some curtness that I do think was unwonted, I 
 answered one question, but asked three others. 
 
 Murtagh moved gently away to his room ; and my aunt, 
 coming to my side, laid a hand on my forehead. 
 
 “ Ah ! ” she tenderly said, “ my Martyn’s head burns. 
 When he is well, he is never short with his loving and 
 gentle friend, Murtagh ! ” 
 
 “ But, aunt,” quoth I, “ is this a time to ask about the 
 ailings of a cripple who can help no one, and who hath ailed 
 for years ? I have no patience — ” 
 
 “ Indeed, it is so, Martyn ; but thou art concerned and 
 ill. Only know this once for all — Murtagh, our gifted 
 Murtagh, never speaks without knowledge and a purpose. 
 The more certain is it, from his putting aside other and 
 such great questions, that he is revolving and purposing 
 some good to thee. Have that very patience of which thou 
 sayest thou hast a lack ! ” 
 
THE WEIRD OF M THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 185 
 
 Ah ! in the later days I remembered those words, and 
 I said : 
 
 “ Had not the Lord put it in Murtagh’s heart to have 
 patience towards me, then I must needs have shown a 
 million-fold more of the quality than any act or word of 
 Murtagh ever called for ! ” 
 
 “ Patience,” forsooth ! 
 
 And from me ! 
 
 And towards Murtagh ! Oh ! 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH 
 
 WITH ITS SAD TELLING OF THE STRAITS TO WHICH, AFTER 
 
 LOSS OF HIS CASTLE, THE SILKEN THOMAS WAS PUT 
 
 All unknowing of the surrender of his Castle, Lord Thomas, 
 chiefly by the aid of the O’Conor Faly, had got together 
 seven thousand men; and deeming the fortress safe, he 
 marched with easy stages to drive the King’s troops from 
 before it. 
 
 Had he known that the English soldiers had been set 
 free by the surrender of the Castle, he would have gone 
 away by a round, and have kept his men together. 
 
 But as it was, his gallow-glasses, wandering and straggling, 
 were cut off from the main body ; and at Naas Sir William 
 Brereton made prisoners of one hundred and forty of them. 
 
 Then, to all but the Silken Thomas himself came the 
 news that the Castle had been surrendered for a bribe by 
 Christopher Parese ! 
 
 When at last he heard it, within a march of the Castle, 
 he began to faint, thus proving that his hopes had 
 vacillated betwixt the holding out of the Castle and the 
 chance of his submission being accepted upon its surrender. 
 
 But now, losing the fortress was to lose all conditions 
 that he could offer for his life, and it was also to lose his 
 men ! One by one they slipped away; and the Silken 
 Thomas felt that, to act the wise man, he should as soon 
 
 m 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 187 
 
 as possible give battle. As well risk that as see his 
 numbers dwindling. He preferred corpses to the vacant 
 places of deserters ! 
 
 There was, too, the bare chance of a success. 
 
 Both armies advanced; but, too late, it was found that 
 an impassable bog (or morass) separated them. 
 
 Several of the cannon no longer required at the siege 
 were with the Imperial troops, and when many shots, to 
 which no return could be made, had shaken the disposition 
 and broken up all cohesion amongst the troops of the 
 rebel, the rest of the party dispersed. 
 
 From that hour the Lord Thomas, who had so rashly 
 cut himself off from power as a Deputy, now ceased to be 
 even a military leader ; and the most and worst of his work 
 thereafter was when he made sudden forays or galled the 
 King’s servants in detail, like a chief of brigands. 
 
 The county of Delvin Ratha 1 stretcheth East and West 
 across this part of Ireland. Or, if it pleaseth one to take 
 count of the point wherein is the O’Carrolls’ Castle of 
 Clonlisk, then the lie of the county is N.E. to S.W. 
 
 Great part of this county, and of Kildare and other, its 
 neighbours, is overlaid by the great peat swamp, in which, 
 on a portion of dry land shaped like a cross, is the town of 
 Tullagh. 
 
 Now, there was no chief or fighting man in all the land 
 who better knew every boghole, every sound patch, and 
 every tussock on which the foot might bide for a moment 
 in safety, and then for a quick spring to another, than the 
 1 King’s County, 
 
188 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 Silken Thomas. He who dazzled all men, and won songs 
 from the Harpers by the spick-spanness of his attire on 
 occasion, — he, I say, also knew how to be happy in such 
 plight from struggling through the peat-water, that (he 
 holding plants of broom and heather without motion above 
 his head) the wild-ducks have alighted beside him at his 
 call, and been taken by his hands alone. 
 
 He could tell where the antlers of our gigantic stags 
 could be found ; and one whole bone frame of such a 
 wonder, he had caused to be set up in the Castle of 
 Maynooth. Murtagh helped with the iron framing for the 
 same. 
 
 I myself have raced the young Lord over this treacherous 
 land, but never to his defeat. 
 
 And, ay, in scores of places hath he doffed his cap and 
 made the Sign of the Cross, telling me in a whisper, that, 
 yonder, upright in the black sludge, stood a warrior of the 
 following of Eogan More, who had fled, wounded, from the 
 slaughter of Moylena by the followers of Con of the 
 Hundred Battles. Or it might be thus that he would 
 say : 
 
 “ A man’s length below that little gnarled oak tree, in the 
 black bog sludge, sleepeth an aged woman, with her arms 
 around her knees, aud her face sunk between. The water 
 hath saved her, too, from decay. Around her neck is a 
 collar of three hundred and sixty-five gold barrel beads. 
 Twelve heavy rings of gold are on her arms, and a brooch 
 shaped like a horse’s shoe, with ends nearly meeting, hath 
 tangled in the fifty-two brown plaits of her hair. They 
 worshipped the sun in this part at one time ; and she was 
 
THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS” 189 
 
 a priestess of the temple. There be five vast stones there- 
 from, near the surface, yonder.” 
 
 Whither should the poor distressed rebel flee, but to 
 inaccessible places in the great bog which he knew thus 
 well ? And inasmuch as Kildare is to the East, Lord 
 Thomas moved some twenty or thirty miles farther away, 
 West. 
 
 At some of his rest-places, he built forts of the turf, quite 
 up to the treacherous waters of the swamp. At others, he 
 and his following trusted to their knowledge of the land, 
 and the carefulness of the watching. Times and again 
 they have walked away at their ease, whilst those who had 
 been sent against them (thinking they trod in their very 
 steps ! ) found themselves wallowing in dangerous quagmires 
 on the right hand and on the left, so that many sank and 
 rose no more. 
 
 The like plan also did O’Conor follow, when his turn 
 came. And of a truth, barring treachery, such difficulties 
 might come to the pursuing foes of those who knew the 
 morasses, that the grant of good terms might be un- 
 avoidable. 
 
 In one place with knowledge and contrivance, the rebel 
 set up falcons, and other great guns. Now, for the carry- 
 ing of these over such country, the soldiers of the King had 
 no way of accounting. Nay, even when such forts and 
 abiding-places were destroyed with fire by the pursuers, 
 what loss was there ? The camps had been of mere 
 tabernacles built without brick or stone, of wattles, and 
 having the floor strawed with rushes. 
 
 Food, they had to carry none with them. Everywhere 
 
190 THE WEIRD OE u THE SILKEN THOMAS ** 
 
 the country folks allowed of their taking milk, meat, and 
 butter, for the chiefs, and barley and pea-flour ground 
 between quernes, and made into bread of cakes called 
 haraan. These for the followers. For their drinking, 
 there was no lack of buttermilk ; while beer was very good, 
 and eau-de-vie excellent. 
 
 Often did Lord Thomas ease the aching of his own sad 
 heart by teaching his followers that there was all to hope 
 from his good and noble stepmother being sister to the 
 Lord Leonard Grey who had been commissioned to parley 
 with him. 
 
 “And what of shame have we, my friends? When I led 
 you on this quest, all knowledge pointed out that my right 
 noble and especially beloved father had been done to 
 death as a traitor. What son would not strike out against 
 such a wrong as that ? Ay ! although it were but with a 
 wooden spoon. When we knew that my father still lived, 
 even although as a sad and innocent prisoner in London 
 Tower, I did speedily beg to have my submission taken for 
 anything that I had done against our sovereign lord, the 
 King’s grace, by his son, the Duke of Richmond. When 
 that mote not be, I offered terms of surrender, on surety of 
 our lives and lands, through Lord Leonard Grey. But I 
 plainly set forth then, with my own hand, that without 
 terms I should fight for my life. Now, the King’s people 
 well know how hardly set all would be to catch us in these 
 bogs.” 
 
 It hath been said, however, that Lord Thomas’s views 
 and moods varied, like the same of his father. We heard 
 of his vowing that so far from his seeking to get on fair 
 
191 
 
 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 terms with the English, he would even send away his lady- 
 wife, because she was English ! But, I would the rather 
 wail with Murtagh that, had his beautiful young wife been 
 of more loving motions towards him, he might have sooner 
 submitted himself, and so have charmed aside his dismal 
 weird and most melancholic destiny ! 
 
 Once he lay in ambush outside Rathangan, and drove 
 cattle across the land. When the soldiers came out of the 
 fortress, he killed a large number of them. But how could 
 that favourably affect his fortunes, or he think that it would 
 do so? 
 
 Again, the Silken Thomas fired a few old houses 
 and dung-heaps near Trim, and sent word that “The 
 Rebel ” was burning a large village hard by. The soldiers 
 came out to the rescue, and were slain ! 
 
 This, of course, was foolish and shameful. But the 
 reprisals of the authorities were undignified and cruel. 
 
 Only because the son of Sir William De la Hoyde was 
 found guilty of treason, Sir William himself and his dame 
 (Janet Eustace formerly) were arrested, being brought from 
 Moyglare to Dublin. In the Castle they were imprisoned 
 separately; but even when threatened with the rack and 
 death, the lady would not say one word incriminating of 
 Sir William. When this brave and good woman died, her 
 holy remains were for five days denied Christian burial ! 
 For the Deputy said that the best that could be expected 
 by the mother of an arch-traitor was that her body should 
 lie upon the dung-heap ! 
 
 During all this time, Sir William Skeffington had been 
 sickening unto death. But he tried one more expedition. 
 
192 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS u 
 
 Whiles that all these hurrying cases and instances were 
 happening, there were many sore hearts which, hitherto, 
 have had no historians. 
 
 James De la Hoyde had fled into Scotland. He had at 
 last come to know the circumstances of the deceptful 
 letter; and it was a grief to him until his death that he 
 had not perceived the awful signification of the document 
 as folded, and the sense which folding gave to his 
 signature. 
 
 It hath seemed good unto me, in all these writings, to 
 leave untold of much that concerns the other great houses. 
 
 But, alas ! there were deaths and sorrows amongst 
 Ormondes, Butlers — families on the right hand and on the 
 left ! 
 
 And not in Ireland (or by Nature) only. In England, 
 Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher were executed; and 
 as one was the King’s tutor and the other was Chancellor, 
 who could consider his head safe upon his neck after that 
 he had made a public mark ? 
 
 Much broken in power and in his hold as a commander 
 upon the people, lonely in heart and life, and right hopeless 
 of pardon for his trespasses, the Silken Thomas (though 
 such a name seems misplaced upon a hunted outlaw !) for 
 the last time entrenched himself upon an island of the 
 Bog of Allen. 
 
 On the 3rd of August, 1535, the Imperial troops, having 
 plundered the country around, made a feint of retreating ; 
 but only to draw the Earl’s men into the open, where they, 
 numbering half a thousand, might have been taken or slain, 
 but for the greed of English soldiers, who, to secure 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 193 
 
 plunder, made way for the escape of the prisoners. Lord 
 Thomas was himself arrested, but was let to pass by men of 
 his family’s following. Lord Leonard Grey destroyed the 
 place, which ditched, watered, and of great force, would 
 have been impregnable if manned, gunned, and stored with 
 victuals. 
 
 Keating having been taken prisoner, and Sir William’s 
 expedition having caused O’Conor to submit, there remained 
 no ally to the Silken Thomas. 
 
 Accordingly, he wrote the following letter to his step- 
 uncle, about the 17th of August; and I have seen and 
 copied the same : 
 
 “To The Right Worshipful Lord Leonard Grey 
 delyver this with spede ! 
 
 “ After all du recummendacions, I hartely recummend 
 me unto your Lordshyp; certyfiyng you, that whereas I 
 have done any thyng contrary agaynst my Sovyryng Lord, 
 the Kinges Grace ys mind, cam nothyng of my owne mere 
 mosyon, butt onely by your cownsayll, the which bene in 
 your Lordshypy’s cumpany now, as ben Thomas Ewstas 
 and Gerald Gerott, Shane ys son, with dyvers othyrs, by the 
 which I was gowernyd all that tyme, and dyd nothyng butt 
 afiftyr their mynd, the which I reportt me to all the Lordes 
 of the Englys Pale ! 
 
 “Wherefore I hartely desyre your Lordshyp to be 
 interssessor for me betwyxt my said Ys Grase and me; that 
 I may have my pardon for me, and myn lyff and landes, 
 the which shall not be ondyservyd to the uttermost of my 
 
 power; and yff I cannott optayne my forsayd pardon, I 
 
 N 
 
194 THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS” 
 
 have no nothyr to do butt shyfte for myselff, the best that I 
 can, trustyng in God, who preserv your Lordshyp. 
 
 “ By your lovyn friend, 
 
 “T. FitzGerald/' 
 
 Verily, methought all this mighty sad ! 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH 
 
 EXPOSETH THE FALSE COMFORT OF PROMISES BY WHICH 
 THE SILKEN THOMAS WAS WON TO SURRENDER ; AND 
 THE SOPHISM BY WHICH THE KING CONTENTED HIS 
 CONSCIENCE FOR BREAKING THE PLEDGES OF HIS 
 AMBASSADORS 
 
 “ And now cometh the strain of an occasion which future 
 days must resolve,” saith Murtagh, in the talking over of 
 the matter, “ from doubt of kingly treachery on the one 
 hand, or weakness of punishment to murderers and active 
 rebels on the other. 
 
 “ I saw the young Earl upon the day before that letter 
 was written ; and I know accurately that whiles his enemies 
 will say the sentence about acts of his own motion meaneth 
 a putting of the blame for his rebellions upon others, — he 
 being no clerk, and but a poor labourer with pens at 
 English writing, only essayed to tell that it was by hopes of 
 such lenient views, and by the advice of Lord Leonard 
 Grey — his step-mother’s own brother — that he would 
 surrender upon promise of life and lands, after confession 
 of misdeeds as aforesaid. 
 
 “Moreover, in a disguise of a travelling monk, I was 
 present when, on the 18th of August, 1535, the same Lord 
 Leonard Grey met the young Earl at the borders of the 
 
 195 
 
196 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 great moving bog, who there and then surrendered to the 
 King’s mercy after a parley, and upon promise of pardon 
 in England ; whereupon the blessed Sacrament was shared 
 between them in open camp, and I partook, as who could 
 refuse me ? 
 
 “ And the King’s difficulty is this : that Sir William 
 Skeffington, writing upon the 24th of August, reporting the 
 traitor’s surrender, said he had surrendered without con- 
 dition either of pardon, life, lands, or goods ! But indeed, 
 why should Lord Thomas have so surrendered then ? He 
 was not besieged or in any danger by enemies. He even 
 had to steal away by night to tender his submission, which 
 his followers would not have approved. 
 
 “ Also, when the Council, on 27th of August, reported the 
 young Earl’s further confession and submission, they be- 
 sought the King’s Highness most humbly, that ‘according to 
 the comfort of their words, spoken to allure him to yield 
 him, the King would be merciful to the said Thomas, 
 especially as concerning his life.’ 
 
 “ Now, therefore,” pursued Murtagh, with much frowning 
 of thought, “what shall the King do in this conflict of 
 report ? 
 
 “ If he shall execute the poor traitor, he hath broken the 
 pledged word of his ambassadors, and, as confessed by the 
 Council, hath taken the game like a poacher. 
 
 “But if he shall spare him, how shall he ever again 
 punish treason and murther ?” 
 
 I, myself, came lately to the knowledge of how the King 
 felt the dilemma too; for he wrote thankfully of the 
 apprehension of the young Earl ; yet saying that if the 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS” 197 
 
 traitor had been apprehended in such way as was more 
 convenable to his deserts, it had been better to his (the 
 King’s) contentation. 
 
 Looking over these poor writings more than two years 
 from the time thereof, I am able to show the way that was 
 taken out of the strain of the difficulty. It was by the 
 advice of the Duke of Norfolk, and was as followeth 
 (advised on the 9th September) : 
 
 In this matter, said the Duke, all concerned were fallible, 
 and any perfect resolution of the doubt cannot be. 
 
 Nevertheless, inasmuch as Lord Leonard Grey and the 
 Council obtained the traitor’s surrender by promises of his 
 life, give him his life. 
 
 And, inasmuch as his crimes make him guilty of death 
 over and over, give him death ! What is delayed is not 
 abandoned. That is, give him his life for one year or two 
 years, as life was promised ; and at term thereof, give him 
 the one death which he hath so eagerly deserved, even that 
 of a murderous traitor ! 
 
 This the Duke put in a longer wording in a letter of the 
 9th September. 
 
 And (woe is for me, that hath to tell of it !) this is the 
 sophistry that was done upon the man whose history 
 runneth through these, my poor writings, as shall in its due 
 sad time appear. 
 
 Meanwhile, I have come to know that, moved upon by 
 three pains, Lady Offaly (or, as I had liefer and better call 
 her, the Countess Kildare) did write one letter to her 
 husband. 
 
198 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 First, her haughty spirit, in the ignorance of which she 
 had said she would never be of blood or bond with a 
 traitor, was broken by the knowledge that even her father, 
 Sir Adrian Fortescue, had moved to a shameful end as 
 such. 
 
 Secondly, her former lover, of whose race and name I did 
 never certainly acquaint me, thinking he saw opportunity 
 for his evil wishes in her case as touching her separateness 
 from her husband, did shock her soul with proposals that 
 threatened a wider severance from the respect of herself. 
 
 And third, by compare therewith, her husband’s endur- 
 ance of her unloving ways, his honourable love to herward, 
 and loyal silence from any complaining or reproach, through 
 all his pains and sorrows, seemed to reach her empty heart, 
 even as her coming to know of Thomas Cannon’s false 
 letter was a sufficing explication of Offaly’s rebellion to 
 her reason. 
 
 When she heard, therefore, at the surrender, that terms 
 bearing up to possible pardon had been promised to the 
 young Earl, she wrote, with much grace, that her father’s 
 conduct and position put her out of court as an accuser of 
 him, her husband, and saying that she would consent to 
 have interviews with him, as, and for, means of arranging 
 how they could for the future stand better related. 
 
 Alas ! the young Earl never saw comfort of that letter, 
 God help him ! 
 
 The ship in which, with much parade and cost, Lord 
 Leonard Grey took the Earl to England as a prisoner, 
 crossed the same which carried the Countess’s letter. 
 
 Upon the way to Windsor, the prisoner and escort were 
 
The weird of “the silken thomas” 199 
 
 met by the King’s order for the Silken Thomas to be 
 brought to the royal hunting at Winchester. And I have 
 heard that the King did cause him to hunt before him 
 for beyond a week. Then, on a sudden, came commands 
 for the forthwith imprisonment of the Earl in the Tower. 
 
 With so much difficulty of following and despatching, the 
 letter of the Countess became amissing. 
 
 Which is, indeed, in no way wondrous, inasmuch as my 
 Lord Chancellor Audley, giving pronouncement much like 
 unto the Duke of Suffolk’s counsel, it was only for the 
 discovery of any other treasons by his means that the Earl 
 was let to be a live man. All letters to himward were 
 espied and examined, he having none rights, being an out- 
 law, and so the very paper might be wore out ere ever it 
 came to his hand ! 
 
 Lord Leonard Grey took benefit of over ^300 for 
 reward, and for the expenses of carrying his sister’s stepson 
 to prison and death ! 
 
 Which did him little good, if Murtagh be a true prophet 
 of what will one day come to this same avaricious and 
 false man ! — a man who would bring his own sister’s step- 
 son, and one who had trusted his word, manacled to the 
 man Poole, on the road to the Court ! 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH 
 
 WHEREIN THE MELANCHOLY OF A SAD TIME IS DIVERTED 
 BY THE CLEVER FOOLISHNESS OF AN OBSTINATE 
 ATTORNEY ON SEARCH-DUTY 
 
 There followed now the stress of lean times upon us. 
 Had it not been for Murtagh, it is hard saying how all 
 had fared with my poor household. 
 
 Lands everywhere wasted and out of harvest in all the 
 baronies of Kildare, people loth to till the land lest the 
 fruits should be wrested from them by those who assumed 
 rights therein on one or other side, and all benefit of 
 present-residing lordships wanting, by reason of the tur- 
 moil in Maynooth, at Powerscourt, and at all the great 
 houses, how could there be aught except famine ? 
 
 But Murtagh ever knew where to lay hands upon a 
 leveret on her form, or upon a hand-sack of meal, or even 
 upon a coin wherewith to furnish some other necessary. 
 
 Foreseeing such days, he, like a taunted Noah, or a 
 provident Joseph, had laid by whatever he knew would be 
 lacking. There was no wasting, and no display of a store ; 
 but the day’s needs were met by the day’s provender, and 
 all was safe as to our daily bread. For which having 
 thanked God, we shared, as Murtagh directed, with our 
 neighbours. 
 
 200 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS n 20l 
 
 Besides, Moina and her mother bred poultry, and planted 
 the land by the house with wholesome garbages ; and wove 
 and span, and gathered sticks, and helped in sickness ; so 
 that none might say they ate in idleness. 
 
 And my helplessness being well known, we were left in 
 peace. Except, indeed, when one day, closing September, 
 came an attorney, supported by an officer and several 
 soldiers, who with harshness demanded all papers and 
 parchments, deeds and rolls of the Kildares, that were in 
 mine own caretaking. 
 
 When, with a heavy heart, I began explaining that I 
 would honour the King’s process, and that I would direct 
 him where to find all he sought — he, a hunchback who had 
 only one eye, bent the same cunningly upon me, and said : 
 
 “ My good clerk, thou seemest to be of mine own estate 
 as to the spine ; and I never knew an hunchback, except 
 only myself, who was not deceitful. Therefore, in pursuance 
 of Mr. Secretary Cromwell’s order, upon advice of Sir 
 William Brabazon, I shall take no word, no evidence but 
 from mine own eyes ” (he that said it had but one !) “ of the 
 whereabouts of the papers of the rebel’s family. 
 
 “To that end, I shall make commencement of my 
 search with thy bed ! ” 
 
 Now, the note of joy or mirth hath had but scant place 
 in these histories, God wot ! so I welcome mine opening to 
 lug it in now. 
 
 “ By St. George of Merrie England ! ” as some of our 
 swash-bucklers are never tired of saying, I protested then, 
 as I do now, that I had none intention but only dutifully 
 to hand over all which Mr. Attorney came to claim in the 
 service of the King’s majesty ! 
 
202 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ** 
 
 That very week Murtagh had taken up to his garret two 
 boxes of thin iron, in which all that was of import in the 
 documents of the Kildare family had lain for years — to 
 mend hinges, to oil locks, and to put soft leather at the 
 lid-closings to keep out damp. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Moina had placed the muniments 
 themselves all orderly in her clean large basket for wools. 
 Her knittings and weavings and balls of wool came loosely 
 atop, but without expectancy or craft or design of any kind ; 
 and, indeed, all in the open part of the room. 
 
 The removal of the two boxes having left empty the 
 panelled cupboard, what needs must hap but the weeny 
 dwarf, without mine observance, making a game for him- 
 self by enrobing in his dress of a fairy king, and shutting 
 himself up in the same cupboard. 
 
 When the cunning attorney declared that he would 
 search my bed, I did indeed desire to be spared the fatigue 
 and pain of moving. 
 
 “ I made no doubt you would advance this plausible 
 plea,” said the King's messenger, with a cunning smile, 
 “ but my men at hand shall lift you with all care on to 
 another trestle — for search your bed must I ! ” 
 
 “ But,” said I, plainly pointing to the basket, “ the 
 papers are not in my bed ; they are every one in — ” 
 
 “ Silence, in the King's name ! ” roared the attorney ; 
 “ one word hereafter is treason. I tell you I shall search 
 for myself ! ” 
 
 So I was silent ; and they lifted me upon sacks on the 
 floor, and only found in my bed papers of no import, foolish 
 verses of mine own composure to Moina, ordinary accompts 
 of the Earl's household prepared for, or by, my brother 
 
THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS ** 203 
 
 Charles ; and pages of this very writing, most of which 
 were afterwards returned, on plea and labour by Murtagh, 
 much greased, blotted, and disputed; but some were 
 missing. 
 
 Everywhere searched the attorney with his crafty eye, 
 anon making gestures of warning that I should not utter 
 one word on pain of hanging, which he signified by passing 
 his fingers around his neck and looking strangled. But 
 nothing he noticed Moina’s great basket, except to kick it, 
 blaspheming, under my trestle, when he had had me once 
 again laid thereon ! For two hours he searched the house, 
 and two soldiers stood over me, with halberds in hand, 
 enforcing silence. 
 
 “ By’r Lord Harry ! ” quoth the cunning lawyer, “ I 
 believe the fairies — which these wild Irish do entirely hold 
 to exist — have spirited away every deed and every paper ! 
 Whatever are in his present charge are only these same 
 which I have found, and whatever may be under his very 
 eye in this his living-room.” 
 
 So he tapped the walls with his horn- eaded cane, and at 
 last came to the cupboard in the panel. 
 
 “ Ha, ha ! ” cried he, “ so I blamed the fairies, did I ? 
 This hiding-place may tell us more than the fairies ever 
 will ! W e shall see ! ” 
 
 At first he turned the handle every wrong way ; but at 
 last, with a heavy tug, he pulled open the door so lubberly 
 as to hit himself hard upon the chin. 
 
 And there stood the weeny dwarf, much affrighted of 
 the strangers, from whom after his game he had remained 
 
204 THE WEIRD OF u THE SILKEN THOMAS’* 
 
 a-hiding, acting his part of the fairy king with waving wings, 
 and stretching his arms as one about to fly ! 
 
 Now my aunt, any more than I, had not noticed how 
 Jacob had hidden in the cupboard ; and when she saw him 
 stretching towards the angry attorney, who had just 
 been cursing at pain of his bump, she feared for her little 
 favourite, and uttered a scream, which seemed one of terror 
 at the apparition ! 
 
 Beyond that I know not much, for Mr. Attorney and his 
 officer and soldiers all fled backwards over my bed, which 
 overturning (to my great dolour), they all fell heavily. 
 
 Then, despising the ladder, they all jumped upon one 
 another to the ground ! Lastly, not waiting, as children 
 say, to pick themselves up, they scrambled away in all 
 directions. 
 
 My Aunt Vimbela was jostled as they rushed out, and 
 came with trembling to my side. Finding my trestle over- 
 turned, and me sunk in laughter, despite all mine aches 
 and helplessness, she thought some fear or cruelty had 
 sent me distraught ! 
 
 When I had made her easy upon that, she and Moina’s 
 mother helped me a-bed once more. 
 
 “ What sought they ? ” said Moina. 
 
 “ They sought for two hours,” said I, “ for what they 
 could not find, because it was under their noses ! ” and I 
 laughed more. 
 
 “ What was it then, say, dear Martyn ? ” 
 
 u Those roll and documents,” cried I, and I pointed to 
 the floor, now littered to the very windore with the docu- 
 ments which they had spilled in their flight. 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 205 
 
 Whereat, when understood, my dear ones laughed along 
 with me; and we laugh upon it together unto this day. 
 Even Murtagh, of usual so staid, hath made what soundeth 
 like a proverb, saying on occasion, “ Not seeing with their 
 eyes, because under their noses — like the King’s Attorney ! ” 
 As I have recorded, we were no more troubled by 
 lawyers ! 
 
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH 
 
 SHOWETH THE FULFILMENT OF THE PROPHECY IN THE 
 FOURTH CHAPTER AS TO THE EARL’S FIVE UNCLES, 
 THE MEAN ENTREATMENT OF THE YOUNG EARL HIM- 
 SELF, AND HIS HUMBLE LETTERS COMMENDING TO 
 OTHERS THE GOOD SERVICE OF THE KING WHOM HE 
 HAD HIMSELF DEFIED 
 
 In want and sadness, and also in turmoil except as 
 regards our own home’s peace, the months rolled by. 
 
 The Lord Deputy Skeffington died upon the last day of 
 the year at Kilmainham, near Dublin, and his body was 
 buried in St. Patrick’s Cathedral ; where may he rest better 
 than he did suffer others to do. Amen ! 
 
 He was succeeded by Lord Leonard Grey as Deputy, the 
 King thus fulfilling his royal promise of October, 1535, as 
 stated upon the Earl’s apprehension : 
 
 “ We give you our hearty thanks, assuring you what We 
 esteme this and other, your good services mynystered unto 
 Us, ther and elles wher, in such sort, as (besides the lande 
 and prayse worthie therunto) moche to your fame and 
 commendacion. We will have the same in our remem- 
 braunce, to your comfort and condigne reward and 
 advauncement.” 
 
 And so that most melancholy year of 1535 passed away. 
 
 206 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 207 
 
 But early in February of the next year, Lord Leonard 
 Grey invited three uncles of the Earl of Kildare (still him- 
 self a prisoner in the Tower) to a banquet at Kilmainham. 
 These were Sir James and his brothers, Walter and 
 Richard — all of whom had warned and opposed Lord 
 Thomas in his rebellion, and who expected no danger. 
 
 With meat in their teeth, they were seized and chained. 
 The brothers who had joined in the insurrection — to wit, 
 Oliver and John — were also arrested. 
 
 It was hoped that the young boy, Gerald, son of Lady 
 Elizabeth Grey as Countess of Kildare, could be taken 
 too ; but he had been carried off by Thomas Leverous, his 
 tutor. And his story may be matter for my further writing. 
 
 About St. Valentine’s Day, all the five Geraldines were 
 shipped off to England, and were accompanied by the 
 Master of the Rolls and the Lord Chief Justice. 
 
 Now, let this be noted : the ship in which they were 
 passed over was called The Cow , and in a sense the ancient 
 prophecy was fulfilled. It was upon learning this name 
 that Sir Richard FitzGerald, who had previously cheered 
 his brethren, quite gave way to melancholy. 
 
 “Now, good brethren,” quoth he, dismayed, “I am in 
 utter despair of our living ever again to see Ireland, for I 
 bear in mind an old prophecy that five Earl’s brethren 
 should be carried in a cow’s belly to England, from thence 
 never to return.” 
 
 But as in any way bearing upon any hope of mine own 
 recovery, it was only a subject for a smile or a weary shake 
 of the head to hear all this. 
 
 It was on the ist of May, 1536, only, that the Act of 
 
208 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS M 
 
 Attainder, the first Act of the Irish Parliament, was passed. 
 And an English Act followed in the same year. 
 
 Lord Thomas had most surely been Earl of Kildare 
 since the demise of his father, and no after-attainder could 
 affect that. Thus was another of the old prophecies very 
 oddly fulfilled, for people have oftentimes declared that 
 “The Silken Thomas ” never came to earldom and the 
 seers had said that his so-doing would be quibbled of. 
 
 Alas ! the prisoners were coldly or cruelly entreated. 
 The Earl received twenty shillings a week as subsistence 
 money during the “life” (lasting twenty months) which 
 was granted to him for “ contentacion ” of the most 
 Christian King’s conscience. The other Geraldines had 
 smaller provision made for them. 
 
 So many of the people of the neighbouring counties had 
 come under the attainder (and verily, Murtagh and I, for 
 our long loyalty and unending friendship to Lord Thomas, 
 might, God wot, have been amongst them ! ) that what 
 were now King’s lands were lying fallow; also, Lord 
 Desmond entered upon the property lately of the Earls of 
 Kildare. 
 
 All this had to be adjusted by pardons for the people, 
 and by forcible recovery of the properties from the Earl of 
 Desmond. 
 
 The cause of all this danger and discomfort — poor, 
 unhappy man ! — had himself so little comfort of all his ill- 
 deeds that I copy two letters of his. The first is to his 
 servant, John Rothe. I have heard that for the prisoner’s 
 nominal subsistence — money, aforesaid, all that really 
 reached him was the poorest food, and that same not in 
 
THE WEIRD OF tl THE SILKEN THOMAS * 9 209 
 
 too great supply. It was a ticklish matter, just then, to be 
 addressed as “ loving friend ” by one who had avowed his 
 willingness to “ die Henry’s rebel ! ” Also, there were 
 laws against giving comfort to traitors, which worked, I 
 trow, to the leaving him (as in this letter set forth) to the 
 cruel tender mercies of his gaolers. 
 
 “ John Rothe, 
 
 “ I. H. S. 
 
 “ My trusty Servant, 
 
 “ I hartely commend me unto you. 
 I pray you that you will delyver thys othyr letter to 
 O’Bryen. I have sent to hym for jQ 20 starlyng; the 
 which yff he take you (as I trust he woll) then I woll that 
 you com over and bryng ytt onto my Lord Crumwell, that 
 I may so have ytt. I never had any mony syns I cam to 
 pryson but a nobull ; nor I have had nothyr hosen, dublet, 
 nor shoys ; nor shyrt but on ; nor any othyr garment but a 
 syngyll fryse gowne, for a velve furred with bowge ; and so 
 I have gone wolward, ay, and barefote, and barelegyd, 
 dyverse tymes (when ytt hath not ben very warme) ; and 
 soe I shuld have done styll and now, but that pore pry- 
 soners of their gentylness hath sumtyme gevyn me old 
 hosyn and shoys, and old shyrtes. 
 
 “ This I wryt unto you, not as complaynyng of my 
 fryndes, but for to show you the trewth of my grete nede, 
 that you shuld be the more dylygent in goyng onto 
 O’Bryen, and in bryngyng me the before sayd ^20, wherby 
 
 I myght the soner have here mony to by me clothys, and 
 
 o 
 
210 THE WEIRD OF €< THE SILKEK THOMAS $i 
 
 also to amend my slender comyns and fare, and for othyr 
 necessaryes, 
 
 “I woil you take oWte of that you brynge me for your 
 costes and labur. 
 
 “ I pray you have me commended onto all my lovers and 
 frynds, and show them that I am in gude helthe. 
 
 “ By me, 
 
 “ Thomas FytzGerald. 
 
 “ To my trusty and welbelovyd 
 “servante, John Rothe.” 
 
 Enclosed in that letter was this following, viz. : — 
 
 “ Jhesus, 
 
 “ My specyall and belovyd frynd, I hartely 
 commend me onto you. And I beseche and pray you to 
 delyver and send me by thys berer, my trusty servante, 
 John Rothe, jQ 20 starlyng, upon the plate that you have in 
 custodie of myn. And in soe doyng you shall show me 
 very gret kyndnes and plesure ; for I have nowe very gret 
 nede. Also, I beseche you that you do not breke nor 
 square with the Deputie, but rathyr agree with hym. And 
 also I beseche you to helpe hym in the Kynge’s besynes yff 
 he hath nede; and so shall you do the Kynge’s Grace 
 plesure, the which you may be sure His Grace woll bothe 
 remember and reward ; and in so doyng you shall also 
 bynde me to do for you any thynge that shall be in my 
 power. 
 
 “ By your lovyng frynd, 
 
 “Thomas FytzGerald. 
 
 “ To my trusty and welbelovyd 
 “ frynd, O’Bryen.” 
 
The weird of “the silken thomas” 211 
 
 It hath oftentimes been a consolation to them that loved 
 the FitzGeralds, that even although sometimes glad to be 
 in friendly harness with kind prisoners not even of the 
 class of their menial servants at Maynooth, Kilkea, and so 
 forth, there were some peers of Lord Thomas’s in durance 
 when he was there confined. Henry, the fifth of the Earls 
 of Northumberland, had two sons, Thomas and Ingram 
 Percy, who for being of the quaint religious rebellion of 
 the time, were imprisoned. The elder was executed at 
 Tyburn. “Ingelram,” as his brother called him, was 
 pardoned. But their company was cheering to our poor 
 young Lord. They spoke with much reverence of his 
 father, whom, as a prisoner, they had been allowed to see. 
 Many dreams had these three of good hunting together. 
 They shared that healthful garden labour which was 
 applied to them for a task, and which they ever simulated 
 to resent. The Percies also loved legends and histories ; 
 and when occasion fitted, the Silken Thomas whispered 
 the fokelore, so much of which Murtagh, and even I, had 
 taught him. In exchange, the young noblemen from the 
 border would sing sweetly of their native vales, so far away. 
 Besides, there was a certain priest or abbot of Whallie, 
 near Lancashire, who was a prisoner in a cause not very 
 different from the trouble of the Percies. He told in 
 whispers of all promised by the King — a Parliament at 
 York, and much benefactions to the small monasteries. 
 But there was more, I trow, of beheading of abbots, and 
 other exercises of the sort, than of Parliament-giving, and 
 benefactions ! 
 
 Many prisoners whose misfortunes made them like unto 
 
212 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILREN THOMAS 
 
 tender friends of the Silken Thomas, had to bid him fare- 
 well on summons which could never mean but the one 
 thing ! And these never met again upon the earth. 
 
 And so I leave the hapless outlawed Earl, whiles I may 
 say something of my own humble self ; but indeed, more 
 for thanks of my dear Murtagh than for any interest to be 
 discovered in my health or affairs. 
 
CHAPTER THE FORTIETH 
 
 OF THE AWFUL BENEFIT DONE UNTO THE CRIPFLED CLERK, 
 MARTYN BARUK FALLON, BY HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND, 
 MURTAGH, ALL OUT OF HIS OWN COURAGE, BUT HAVING 
 HELP AND COUNTENANCE AND INSTRUCTION THEREIN 
 BY THE APOTHECARY OF ST. FRANCIS — THE^ GOOD 
 RESULT 
 
 When Murtagh had conversed with the Apothecary in the 
 Abbey of St. Francis, it was all for the good of me ! 
 
 All his poring over bones of animals was that he might 
 help me in my maims, if that the Lord willed. 
 
 Once and again Murtagh sought leave, upon opportunity 
 of pain from a bad season, or what not, to soothe me by 
 gentle handlings of the ailing spine. 
 
 He ever did me good with his liniments and rubbings ; 
 and, as I now know, hisTiope was to keep the places sound 
 and limber thereby, awaiting the time for his great stroke. 
 
 It came to be the 3rd of November, in 1536, and Tor 
 two days Murtagh had been making a walking frame, so 
 he called it, for me. It had arm-rests and wheels, and as I 
 understood, I was in the same to take exercises without 
 danger by falls, or by leaning too heavily on my feeble legs. 
 Upon that day, to the event of which, he assured me, he 
 
 had prepared me by the exercises which had kept mine 
 
 313 
 
214 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 arms almost in their strength, he moved me to trust him 
 wholly, and with his and mine Aunt Vimbela’s assistance, 
 to place myself in this frame. 
 
 Considering that I had now been crippled since the 
 January of 1532 — that is, nearly five years — the courage that 
 Murtagh gave unto me made my first essay a good one. 
 
 Holding by a cross-bar above my head, and leaning 
 forward somewhat upon a wadded desk or board placed 
 before me, I easily made the circuit of the room thrice, 
 using my feeble limbs a little, and when restored to my 
 trestle, was none the worse. 
 
 That same evening the Apothecary of the Infirmary in 
 the Monastery of St. Francis, Dublin, being present, I 
 offered to again use my walking frame, and I required less 
 help than in the morning. Nay, I rallied Murtagh, who 
 was pale and solemn, methought. 
 
 I made circuit of the room once. 
 
 “ Dear Martyn,” said Murtagh, “rely now almost every 
 whit upon the grip of the hands, but bend a little 
 forwards.” 
 
 Whiles I obeyed, Murtagh was behind, giving me his 
 tender, powerful hands for support of my back. 
 
 Suddenly the Monk Apothecary shouted loudly: 
 
 “ In God’s name, now ! ” 
 
 “Amen !” murmured Murtagh. 
 
 But unto me it seemed that the very end of the world 
 was come ! 
 
 The Apothecary had pulled a cord, and the cross-bar, 
 upon which was my whole weight hanging, came in two. 
 My body fell forward upon the padded board, and with a 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 215 
 
 force that may not be expressed in words, Murtagh forced 
 his thumbs upon my maimed back ! 
 
 And now, what can be said of what I endured in the one 
 fleet second of time ? 
 
 Let a reader fancy a blunt spear grinded many inches 
 into his ailing spine bone by a great knight upon a massy, 
 galloping charger. 
 
 Let fire seem to play, not only upon the wound in his 
 back, but also adown cords in all his limbs. 
 
 Let, then, the whole body, tingling to its remotest fibre 
 and helpless in respect of its weight, appear to be of two 
 parts, one of which hath suddenly been broken off from the 
 others, by (as it were) a thunderbolt. 
 
 Then, let him seem to sink away into space and dark- 
 ness, all on fire with agony and burning strain, and with 
 the sound of a long singing note in his ears ! 
 
 All that ! 
 
 And yet he will not know what Martyn Fallon, late 
 the crippled scrivener, felt — by just such difference as five 
 years of pain and a weary numbness had made him more 
 prone to suffering ! 
 
 But the awakening hath been forestalled by one word in 
 the last sentence ; and there is little more to be said except 
 “ God is good 1 ” 
 
 For I am crippled no longer ! 
 
 Murtagh hath forced back into his proper alignment that 
 spine-bone which had been displaced all these years ! 
 
 When I came to my wits, I was face down upon a new, 
 hard trestle, and they were fomenting my back with very 
 hot wine. 
 
216 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 
 
 There was a tingling there, and a twitching of my limbs ; 
 but I knew before Murtagh spoke that what he hastened to 
 say was true. 
 
 “Dear Martyn,” murmured he, “God hath glorified 
 Himself in you this day ! Your back is sound now, except 
 for what some little time will do for it. And so, let us 
 pray ! ” 
 
 Which, the Monk Apothecary leading, we very earnestly 
 did. 
 
 Once, a little thereafter, I believe I fainted ; but day by 
 day I have known of no hindrance to my cure. 
 
 I have such sleep as never since my maiming. 
 
 I raise either leg wholly from the trestle without pain. I 
 turn over easily, but at first with aid from ropes and bars 
 cunningly placed for me by Murtagh, from side to side. 
 
 And this morning, the year being at its last days, I wrote 
 this, having but now stood quite strongly, unaided, for these 
 many minutes ! Jubilate Deo ! 
 
CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIRST 
 
 THE JOY AND THE CHANGE IN MOINA, BECAUSE OF THE 
 
 RETURNED POWERS OF MARTYN THE SACRED BONES 
 
 WHICH MURTAGH HAD STUDIED — THE IMITATIONS OF 
 LITTLE JACOB ONCE MORE 
 
 If, in the joy of it all, a new youth and beauty have come 
 to my dear Aunt Vimbela, of the voice now sweeter than 
 ever, who shall tell of how it doth affect Moina ? 
 
 Oh ! the light that is in her eyes, the airiness in her step, 
 the music that is ever on her lips ! 
 
 But is that everything ? I trow not ! 
 
 To Marty n the cripple, Moina might have been sister, or 
 mother even, for any coyness in ministering to him by the 
 bedside in convenable ways, and at any hour. 
 
 But now, so’t please you ! what circumspection, what 
 blushes when I say, “ Dear Moina ! ” Of old it used to 
 be : 
 
 “ Ay, my poor Marty n, what can thy loving Moina do 
 for thee ? ” 
 
 Now it is: “Yes, Martyn? — shall I call Aunt Vimbela 
 to thee ? ” or such-like replies. 
 
 Nothing must I say, even by mine eyes, of that hope and 
 
 longing which grow daily in my heart and body. 
 
 217 
 
218 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 To press her fingers a week since, the dear fair hand 
 which hath lain in mine for an hour of pain at a time, soft 
 murmured words of love coming therewith, was to banish 
 my loved one from the room for all of two days ! Oh, 
 forsooth as I gain the strength (which we none of us had 
 dared hope for), I am supposed to need overt love the less. 
 
 And so I grow in wisdom as I grow in strength. I make 
 no protest of my love. I choke down my tone of passion ; 
 I use no touch that tells of a man’s feeling. 
 
 But who that hath never been crippled can know what it 
 is to feel life where limbs were numbed and weak ? And, 
 oh, when I feign sleep, so that the woman who loves me 
 (Lord be thanked) may be harmless deceived to steal to 
 one’s bed-foot, and gaze with glowing eyes upon a lover in 
 whose cheek is the colour of unwonted strength ! Ah ! / 
 have seen it ! The close-clasped hands, the smiling lips 
 forming passionate words over him who seemed to sleep ; 
 and when I have groaned as one lazily awaking, I have 
 seen the face quick ordered to maidenly decorum, while 
 the simple words have come calmly : 
 
 “ Thou hast slept sound, good Martyn ; and thine aunt 
 hath a fine broth of a chicken for thee.” 
 
 So it went on ; and by the benefit of God, and Murtagh’s 
 ceaseless caring, I have become of such strength as now to 
 walk about. 
 
 With hot sea-water thrice daily he laveth my back, where 
 now is none pain ; and while I lie a-face, he kneadeth the 
 same, and doth nip and pinch the leg muscles, until that I 
 shall cry out “ Murther ! ” at times. With paste of a roasted 
 sea-weed I am plastered. With a hand full of soft silk I 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS” 219 
 
 am rubbed to glowing after the nipping. And day in, day 
 out, I see less of Moina ! 
 
 Once I asked Murtagh for the plain history of his studies 
 for me. 
 
 Without a word, he passed above to his own garret, and 
 brought down two strings of bones. One was that string of 
 knuckle-bones which, at my desire, Moina had shown to 
 me. The other I had never seen before. 
 
 “ I once found a man’s body in the Bog of Allen,” said 
 Murtagh. “Who shall say how many hundred year it had 
 lain there ? The skull-bone hath gained me many private 
 matters by terrifying those who had guilt at heart — as 
 indeed, who hath not? — when Jacob hath held it before his 
 own weeny face under a black cowl, and I have called for a 
 confession through my conch, in a distant-sounding voice. 
 
 “But I have here the spine-bones of that body, stripped 
 of skin and flesh. I have mounted them on an iron rod ; 
 and between are pads of many cloths. 
 
 “ Now, in thy poor back, my patient Martyn, this one of 
 the bones was displaced to extent of one line and a shade 
 more, say one tenth of the inch.” 
 
 “No more, Murtagh? Hadst thou had my experience 
 at the hands of the Apothecary, and thine own good self, 
 together, thou wouldst have gauged the distance of that 
 bone’s default at full its own length ! It seemed to move 
 through three grinding fiery inches ! ” 
 
 Murtagh smiled and shook his head, showing me, on 
 the bones, all that had been wrong with me, and all he had 
 had to do to right things, 
 
220 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 But in self-pity, and at seeing the real bones of a once- 
 live man — and they being used as mine had once been — a 
 faintness visited me ; and Murtagh crooned over me as he 
 laid me back upon my trestle, and gave me wine. 
 
 When I bettered, I said : 
 
 “ What for, then, dear Murtagh, hast thou that innocent 
 and ungruesome chain of identic bones, which, to my 
 seeming, are from shins of cattle ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, that!” and Murtagh laughed. “Why, forsooth, 
 let me pore over these sacred relics of him that hath helped 
 thee from his grave whenever I might, his highness Jacob 
 must glower and vex himself if he might not mimic me, 
 and do likewise ! So, for sacrilege-prevention, and because 
 my pads for gristles must not be disturbed, I gave the 
 weeny man this chain of two dozen bones, whereon he 
 exerciseth his great mind in the imitation of me, and so is 
 content to leave these poor remains untampered with. 
 The same shall I now give unto the earth with all pious 
 observance ; and over them thy life will surely be a daily 
 sacrifice and oblation ! There be that doubt the efficacy 
 of prayers for the dead — ” 
 
 “Into which dogma-matter shall we not go, Murtagh,” 
 said I. “ But on every All Souls’ Day that I am spared, 
 if thou wilt show me where these poor bones lie at last in 
 sacred rest, I shall thank God over them ; and flowers laid 
 above them may at least be types of my grateful thoughts 
 to them, next after the other aspiration ! ” 
 
 “And we also will observe this custom, God helping 
 us ! ” said my pious aunt, who, with Moina and her 
 
THE WEIRD OF <( THE SILKEN THOMAS " 221 
 
 mother, kneeled, as Murtagh reverently bore away the 
 relics for burial in holy land. 
 
 The good God, He alone knoweth whether the owner of 
 the bones had ever done as much good in his life as 
 Murtagh (with a blessing) hath compassed in me, by his 
 studying of them ! 
 
CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND 
 
 SOME LITTLE EFFORT IS MADE TO TAKE UP AGAIN THE SAD 
 AND TANGLED HISTORY OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS ” j 
 BUT ART, EVEN IN THE HUMBLE CASE OF AN HIS- 
 TORIAN, IS A JEALOUS MISTRESS ; AND THE SCRIVENER, 
 NO LONGER HELPED BY THAT MUSE, DRIFTETH INTO 
 THE MERE LOVER ! TUT ! TUT ! 
 
 With the better control of the country which very slowly 
 followed the quelling of the Silken Thomas’s rebellion, fell 
 such prosperity to Moina’s mother that she came thanking 
 my Aunt Vimbela and Murtagh, and even me, for our roof, 
 saying she and Moina would return to their own holding 
 now. 
 
 And so it was. 
 
 Then came a new urgeance upon me to add strength to 
 strength ; for I could now only have the joy of seeing 
 Moina by going to her home, as in the former days of my 
 health and love. 
 
 Where will is, way is ! 
 
 I passed the threshold unaided for the first time for five 
 long years upon the New Year’s Day of 1537. 
 
 In great prudence, and aided by a staff, I exercised with 
 delight, and returned to my great chair, none worsted in 
 any wise. 
 
 222 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS ” 223 
 
 Every day I did more ; and every day could have done 
 more than I did. 
 
 All was at calm as touching the poor prisoners. It was 
 noised abroad that there might even be amnesty for the 
 now-attainted young Earl. We may not be allowed to 
 comfort him in any wise ; but we hope all we can. Also, 
 we dare to think that of the five Geraldines, his uncles, 
 three at least may one day be returned, cautioned, to be a 
 restored and loyal family under the Crown — even although 
 the ancient prophecy which Murtagh hath fitted upon my 
 case should, in that sole particularment, fail of completion. 
 
 By the middle of January I had cast away my staff, and 
 all aids ! 
 
 I walked quickly five miles to sign receipts for a property 
 left me by a relation who had dealt in merchandise in great 
 Dublin, who had never promised me any benefits ; but 
 whom I had thanked becomingly for a kind message upon 
 my great recovery. 
 
 And returning, I saw Moina afar off! 
 
 She would fain have turned aside ; but in the fear to lose 
 my chance I ran a distance. The which seeing, and 
 wrought with fear of any injury to him whom she had so 
 bravely and patiently loved in his helpless days, she 
 returned to meet me. 
 
 “ Oh, dear Martyn ! ” she cried aloud, “ do not run. I 
 shall not avoid thee, dear friend, for I am in fear of any 
 injury to thee.” 
 
 “ Moina,” I solemnly said, “ this blessing of a restored 
 
224 the weird of “the silken thomas 
 
 health of body to all of enjoyment that may mean strength 
 and manhood will be less to me than the comfort I had as 
 a cripple, if thou wilt not now, as then, be my comfort in 
 chief ! ” 
 
 (Her precious words to reply are writ on tablets in my 
 heart for mine own reading only.) 
 
 From that hour, I had none more remembrance of 
 weakness or pain. 
 
 Upon the 5th of February, and Feast of St. Agatha, the 
 name-saint of Moina’s mother, we were wedded in the 
 Monastery of St. Francis, in Dublin — the same occasion 
 being my first time to see the fair city, formerly called 
 Eblana. 
 
 And truly, I that had been a “ cripple of many years,” 
 even I danced at the wedding of the woman I loved that 
 day and was content — only saying that although assuredly 
 the Geraldines would return, I could not wait therefor 
 through the time of the prophecy ; and, indeed, the same 
 would be falsified if they came back even in one hundred 
 year ! 
 
 There be two of the prisons in the great, sad Tower of 
 London ; and I know not in which was my Lord Thomas 
 the longer a prisoner. One is the Beauchamp Tower, and 
 the other, close by the Traitor’s gate, is the Garden Tower. 
 But who can say what all of gloom and weariness this 
 vigorous young man suffered ! There is proof in every 
 word of his writing which I have seen, thabhis spirit was 
 utterly broken. He gladly made friendships at last with 
 
THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 225 
 
 men, prisoners like himself, who would not have interested 
 him had he been at his liberty. 
 
 The little child of one of the warders was beloved by 
 him with all the hungry passion of an empty heart and life. 
 He carved toys for him from the scant firewood. He in- 
 vented games with strings on the hands for his amusement. 
 Being entrusted, at his own desire, with some tools for the 
 improvement of overworn steps, he was engaged in carving 
 the letters of his name on a cornerstone, when he was haled 
 forth to his awful death ! 
 
 When the summons came, he found that he had been 
 classed with two of his uncles, who, in the King’s service, 
 had withstood and opposed him. This made him hope 
 that all would be pardoned together. 
 
 “ Ah ! ” whispered he to a visitor, even that Revd. 
 Thomas Abell (Chaplain to Queen Catharine) who had 
 himself been earlier a prisoner there, and had likewise 
 carved his name), “ I am now to know the forgiveness of 
 my sovereign Lord, the King’s Grace ! You see, Father, I 
 have not finished my name-carving. It is not so pretty 
 done even so far, as yours. But I am, with mine uncles, 
 the King’s loving servants. We will write his name in 
 every heart in The Pale — ay, in Ireland itself ! And so, I 
 take my leave of mine unfinished name with joy ! ” 
 
 Somewhere in that great Tower the unfinished carving 
 may stand even now. If so it be, then, inasmuch as it was 
 never finished because of Henry’s treacherous lying, it will 
 plead, as long as men shall see it, against all false and 
 murderous tyrants, with hatred, hissing, and curses ! Amen ! 
 Amen ! 
 
 p 
 
226 THE WEIRD OF “ THE SILKEN THOMAS 99 
 
 Before another week had passed, we knew that, alas ! 
 the poor “ Silken Thomas ” and his five uncles had been 
 done to death as traitors, upon a day less two before my 
 marriage to Moina, even the 3rd day of February, 1537. 
 
 I may not dwell upon it more ; for my heart is filled to 
 overflowing with the joy of Moina’s love ! 
 
 And there is this farther: Murtagh hath felt that 
 Vimbela and he can no more part or separate. 
 
 For she hath had a confidence placed in her, setting 
 against that early story of Murtagh’s parentage. His poor 
 young mother had indeed died as hath been told, and in 
 her loyalty to the man she loved had kept things concealed 
 at his demand. But a true marriage had been made 
 between them, and Murtagh’s proper station was that of the 
 inheritor of a third son in a noble house. 
 
 He will not hear of any steps to be taken to establish his 
 rights. If Vimbela will marry him, he will live usefully, 
 and eke out some private funds of his own by helping to 
 teach in a school which I am to establish nearer to Dublin. 
 If otherwise, then he will enter the Monastery of St. 
 Francis, first as medical lay brother, and afterwards, if it 
 may be, as a received monk. 
 
 But I know Vimbela loves him ; and as I write, they 
 walk, hand in hand, in the garbage garden beside the house ; 
 so I must look thither no farther. 
 
CHAPTER THE FORTY-THIRD 
 
 WHICH TAKETH NOTE OF THE TOO LATE, BUT REAL, RE- 
 
 4 PENTANCE OF THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF KILDARE, 
 n£e FORTESQUE, AND AT FIRST LADY OFFALY; AND 
 AN HUMBLE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE, WITH 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE MIGHTY HAPPINESS OF THE 
 WRITER, WHO BLESSETH GOD THIS DAY THAT HE 
 CAN, WITH THE BEST OF THEM, “ MAKE HIS BOW ” 
 TO THE GENTLE READER 
 
 There hath passed a year since my last writing as above. 
 
 It hath been with much heart-tumult, and with 
 much mixed feeling, that I have read over this poor page 
 of history. I may one day traverse the sheets, to amend 
 with later knowledge what may have been told wrongly 
 with the imperfect acquaintance of the hour. 
 
 We hear that, too late, the young Countess of Kildare 
 learned that she could wholly love her husband, and him 
 only. 
 
 When, by the intercession of some powerful friends, 
 certain deeds gave her plate and property from the estate 
 of her late husband, she shook her beautiful head, and 
 said she had no pleasure in the King’s good bounty. She 
 had failed in wifely duty and Christian charity to a man 
 
 whom she might, in contrary case, have saved for the 
 
 227 
 
228 THE WEIED OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 King’s service and his own, and for the giving of heirs 
 direct to the great Family of which he was Head. She 
 might have balanced the shame of her father’s less account- 
 able traitorhood thereby. She had missed her great 
 opportunity in the world. 
 
 And so, the world being no more to her, she entered a 
 nunnery of the very strictest class. 
 
 . * • • • • • • • 
 
 If anything were needed to show me my Moina’s tender 
 heart, it would be seen when, as she hears of that sad heart- 
 breaking, she tenderly taketh our brave and lusty boy all 
 into her arms ; and, bending over him with her eyes a-brim- 
 ming, beckoneth me to her. 
 
 “ What now, then, sweetheart ? ” I say. 
 
 “Ah, Martyn,” she whispereth, the sound of tears in 
 her voice of music, <f the poor young Lady Kildare hath 
 never had such a schooling as we have known ! ” 
 
 “ How so, Moina mine ? ” I query, that she may the 
 better have chance to deliver her heart of what is 
 burthening it. 
 
 “ She hath never seen her lover grow,” from one helpless 
 and pain-ridden, to stand beside his wife and child, sound 
 and strong ! ” 
 
 “True, my sweet; and she never continued her love to 
 the man of her heart, when all looked hopeless, to see her 
 love his highest hope in all his hopeful life at last ! ” 
 
 “ Above everything, Martyn, she hath never known what 
 it is to feel baby hands upon her breast. May God and 
 Our Lady comfort her ! ” 
 
 As I sigh for the fate of a high-born and generous man, 
 
THE WEIRD OF “THE SILKEN THOMAS 
 
 229 
 
 little Jacob, robed in white, ’’and bearing roses which mean 
 Love, entereth, and kneeleth in his daily wonder of our 
 infant. I take the emblem. 
 
 But could even Love, the Magician, have mended the 
 weirdness of a destiny such as that of “ The Silken 
 Thomas, 0 even as regards the love of wife and children ? 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 
 Not I, at least ! 
 
 And so, to Moina’s gentle prayer, I murmur with a full 
 heart : 
 
 “AMEN!” 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 No. I. 
 
 Speech of Lord Deputy Skeffington y made in August on the Green at 
 Mary's Abbey , Dublin , in reply to an Address of Welcome to 
 the Earl of Kildare from Recorder Thomas Fitzsimons : — 
 
 “ Mr. Mayor and Mr. Recorder, — You have at length this 
 nobleman here present for whom you sore longed while he was 
 -absent. And after many storms by him sustained, he hath now, to 
 the comfort of his friends, to the confusion of his foes, subdued 
 violence with patience, injuries with sufferance, and malice with 
 obedience. And such butchers as of hatred thirsted after his blood 
 •are now taken for outcast mastiffs, littered in currish blood. 
 
 “How well my master, the King, hath been of his gracious 
 inclination affected to the Earl of Kildare (his back friend being, by 
 his just deserts, weeded from His Majesty), the credit wherein this 
 noble at present abideth, manifestly declareth. Wherefore it resteth 
 that you thank God and the King for his safe arrival. 
 
 “ As for his welcome, Mr. Recorder’s courteous discourse, your 
 great assemblies, your cheerful countenances, your willing meetings, 
 your solemn processions, do so far show it as to minister me occasion 
 on his Lordship’s behalf rather to thank you for your welcome than 
 to exhort you to any further courtesy.” 
 
 No. II. 
 
 “ The Great Curse f or, Excommunication of Lord Thomas Fitzgerald 
 for the Murder of John , Archbishop of Dublin . 
 
 In the Name of God, Amen,— By the Authority of the Father, 
 the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and of the blessed Apostles Peter and 
 Paul, St. Patrick, the Apostle and Patron of Ireland, all other the 
 Apostles and Company of Heaven ; and by the Authority of our 
 Mother Holy Church, and the Keepers of the spiritual jurisdiction of 
 the Metropolitan See of Dublin, the same all being voide, — Whereas 
 Thomas Fitzgerald, eldest son to Gerald, late Erie of Kildare, of 
 malice pretens^d, not only procured John Telyinge and Nicholas 
 Wafer to put violent hands upon The Most Reverend Father in God 
 John Lord Alen of good memory, late Archbishop of the said See of 
 Dublin, Primate of Ireland, taking him prisoner at Howth, within 
 the Diocese of Dublin, and from thence conveying him to Artayne 
 in the same Diocese, but also the same Thomas Fitzgerald, accom- 
 panied with John Fitzgerald, Oliver Fitzgerald, brother to the said 
 late Erie, James Delahide, Edward Rorke, and divers other evil- 
 disposed persons, most shamefully, tyrannously, and cruelly mur- 
 dered and put to death the said Archbishop. For which execrable, 
 
 230 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 231 
 
 abominable, detestable, and damnable act, according to the pre- 
 scripts and ordinances of the Holy Church, we publish and declare 
 the said Thomas Fitzgerald . . . and all other which gave com- 
 mendment, counsel, favour, help, and assistance, comfort, or 
 consented to the same, or after the act committed did ratify, 
 accept, approve, or willingly defend it, or succour or receive any 
 such persons, to be excommunicated, accursed, and anathematized. 
 And to the intent all Christian people may the rather take know- 
 ledge thereof, and avoid and loathe the danger of the same, we 
 invocate and call in vengeance against the said Thomas Fitzgerald, 
 and every of the persons aforesaid, the Celestial place of Heaven , 
 with all the multitude of angels, that they be accursed before them, 
 and in their sight as spirits condemned. And the devil do stand, 
 and be in all their doings on their right hand, and all their acts be 
 sinful and not acceptable before God. Be they, and every of them, 
 cast out from the company of Christian people as damned creatures, 
 and all that they shall do to be done in their damnable offence and 
 sin. Let them be put out of their houses and mansions, which 
 other men may take, and put to decay and ruin. Their labours to 
 be frustrate from all goodness. Let no man be to them merciful, 
 and their memory forever in the earth to be forgotten. God 
 Almighty may rain upon them the flames of fire and sulphur to 
 their eternal vengeance. And that they may clothe themselves with 
 the malediction and high curse, as they daily clothe themselves 
 with their garments. The water of vengeance may be in the inner 
 parts of them as the marrow is in their bones. Be they and every of 
 them girded with the girdles of malediction and of curses. Be they 
 and every of them partakers with the wicked Pharo and Hero, 
 Herod and Jude, the proditor of Jesu Christ, and with Dathan and 
 Abiram, whom the earth swallowed quick. So may they descend 
 into hell quick. Good Lord, send to them and every of them, 
 hunger and thirst, and strike them and every of them with pesti- 
 lence till they and every of them be consumed, and their generations 
 clean radicated and delyted of this world, that there be no memory 
 of them. Strike them, and every of them also with such leprosy that 
 from the highest part of the head to the sole of their feet there be 
 no whole place. Strike them also with madness, blindness, and 
 voidness of mind, that they may palzie and be lame, also handle as 
 blind men do in darkness. And furder, be they curst, and put 
 from the company of all Christian people, for they cannot have 
 pains according to their deserving. And by the authority aforesaid 
 we do declare interdict the place where the said Archbishop was 
 killed. Which interdiction we will to be observed according to the 
 ordinances of Holy Church in this behalf. And likewise do’inter- 
 
232 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 diet all cities, lands, towns, castles, villages, all maner of chapells, 
 and all the places wherein the said cursed persons been or any of 
 them be, or at any time hereafter shall be, come, or resort unto, — 
 willing and commanding all spiritual persons of this diocese and 
 province of Dublin, upon pain of the law to cease from administering 
 alb Divine service as long as the said Thomas Fitzgerald, • • . 
 James Delahide, ... or any of the other said cursed persons, or 
 any of them, shall be present, and so continue three day after their 
 departure. And also by the same authority decree them, and every 
 of them, to be deprived of all spiritual honors^ dignities, offices, 
 benefices, and all other ecclesiastical profits and commodities, what- 
 soever they be, which they now possess, and inhibit them and every 
 of them to receive and accept any other like in time to come. 
 Finally, by the same authority, we excommunicate and curse all 
 persons, these, and in the cases which the law permit teth except 
 which, after due knowledge of the execution of this sentence of The 
 Great Curse, and specially the servants and familiars of the said 
 cursed persons, that from henceforth shall do any service, keep 
 company, familiarity, talk, commune, speak, aid, comfort, or suc- 
 cour the said Thomas Fitzgerald, ... or any other present at the 
 killing of the said Archbishop, giving commendment, counselling, 
 favouring, helping, aiding, assisting, comforting, or consenting to 
 the said murder, and either afterwards notefying, approving, or 
 wilfully defending the said act, and all these which shall minister 
 or give unto them, or any of them, meat, drink, water, fire, dress, 
 their sustenance, or give any of them any maner of comfort or helpe. 
 And to the terror and fear of the said damnable persons, we sign 
 and figure that they be accursed of God, and their bodies given and 
 committed unto the hands of Satan and Lucifer, we have rong these 
 bells, — erect this cross with the Signe of Christ crucified. And also 
 see these candelles light taken from the crosses, — so be the said 
 cursed persons and rebellious murderers against the laws of God and 
 our Mother Holy Church excluded and separated from the Light of 
 Heaven, the fellowship of Angells and all Christian people, and 
 shall be sent to the low darkness of fiends and damned creatures, 
 among whom everlasting pains doth endure. And these three 
 stones which we cast towards their inhabitations is done to the 
 terror of them, that they may the sooner come to Grace in token of 
 the vengeance which God took against them like cursed persons 
 called Dathan and Abiram, being so detestable in the sight of God 
 that the earth opened and swallowed them quick into hell. Yet 
 trusting that our Saviour Jesu Christ of His infinite mercy may call 
 them to grace of repentance and amendment of this execrable 
 offence, — ye shall devoutly pray with us : “ Revelabunt cseli iniquita- 
 tem,” with Psalm 4 4 De.us Laud.” Fiat ! Fiat ! Amen. 
 

 
 ...