that again, or you
will wake us!" The intruder fled in terror, and never found the mouth of
the cavern again. Earl Gerald of Mullaghmast sleeps with his warriors in
a cavern under the castle, or Rath, of Mullaghmast. A long table runs
down the middle of the cave. The Earl sits at the head, and his troopers
in complete armour on either side, their heads resting on the table.
Their horses, saddled and bridled, stand behind their masters in stalls
on either side. The Earl was a leader of the Irish; he was very skilful
at weapons, and deep in the black art. He could change himself into any
shape he pleased. His lady was always begging him to let her see him in
some strange shape; but he always put her off, for he told her that if
during his transformation she showed the least fright he would not
recover his natural form till many generations of men were under the
mould. Nothing, however, would do for the lady but an exhibition of his
powers; so one evening he changed himself into a goldfinch. While he was
playing with her in this form a hawk caught sight of him and pursued
him. The hawk dashed itself against a table and was killed; but the lady
had given a loud scream at seeing her husband's danger, and neither
goldfinch nor Earl did she behold again. Once in seven years the Earl
rides round the Curragh of Kildare on a horse whose silver shoes were
half an inch thick when he disappeared. When they are worn as thin as a
cat's ear, a miller's son, who is to be born with six fingers on each
hand, will blow his trumpet, the troopers will awake and mount their
horses and with the Earl go forth to battle against the English; and he
will reign King of Ireland for twoscore years. A horse-dealer once found
the lighted cavern open on the night the Earl was riding round the
Curragh and went in. In his astonishment at what he saw he dropped a
bridle on the ground. The sound of its fall echoing in the recesses of
the cave aroused one of the warriors nearest to him; and he lifted up
his head and asked: "Is it time yet?" The man had the wit to say: "Not
yet, but soon will;" and the heavy helmet sank down once more upon the
table, while the man made the best of his way out. On Rathlin Island
there is a ruin called Bruce's Castle. In a cave beneath lie Bruce and
his chief warriors in an enchanted sleep; but some day they will arise
and unite the island to Scotland. Only once in seven years the entrance
to the cave is visible. A man discovere