66 Turgesius, the Norman, began his reign by changing the form of government. He placed a Danish king over each province, a captain in each territory, an abbot in each church, a sergeant in each village, and he quartered a soldier in each house. For non-payment of the tax of an ounce of gold, which he imposed yearly on every house, the punishment was that the owner thereof should have his nose cut off-a penalty which was duly enforced, and which on that account rendered this tax of airgiod srone," or nose money, as memorable as it was odious and insulting. To perfect his system of enslaving the people, and to banish every hope of their ever attaining liberty, he elosed up all schools and colleges, burned the libraries, and forbade the instruction of youth in any science or in any military exercise. But the rule of the tyrant was destined to be of short duration. He was captured by Maelseachlainn, or Malachi, prince of Meath, and put to death. Keating says that his capture was effected by strategy. Having demanded the daughter of Malachi, in order to insult her, her father gave seeming consent, and appointed a day when she should meet the tyrant, accompanied by fifteen young maids as attendants. The appointed day arrived; the profligate Turgesius was all expectation; Melcha, the daughter of Malachi, and her train set out to meet him; but the attendants proved to be athletic young Irishmen, in female attire, and armed with poinards. A great banquet was prepared ; the wine cup circulated freely; "all went merry as a marriage bell," till at length the concerted signal was given, upon which the brave youths, in less than a minute, bound Turgesius to a post, and loaded him with irons. They were immediately joined by Malachi, at the head of a strong force, who soon put the myrmidons of the tyrant to the sword, and seized and secured all the booty which the place contained. In a few days Turgesias was sunk to the bottom of Lough Owel, near Mullingar, by order of Malachi. Hugh VII., (Fionliat) son of Niall Caille, was elected monarch in 863, and reigned until 879. He attacked the Danes in Inishowen, and completely defeated them, chasing them to their ships, moored in Lough Foyle. He killed several thousands of their army, and had the heads of forty of their chiefs carried in triumph before him.* The next monarch of * "A complete muster of the north was made by Aedh Finnlaith, so that he plundered the fortresses of the foreigners, wherever they were in the north, both in Cinel-Eoghain and Dalaraidhe; and he carried the race of Owen was Niall Glandubh, son of Fionliat, who reigned from 916 to 919. The Danes again pillaged Inishowen, marking their course by fire and the sword. Daniel O'Niall, son of Murtagh, and grandson of Niall Glandubh, was monarch from 956 to 980, when he was succeeded by his son, Malachi II., in whose reign occurred the famous battle of Tara, where the Danes were defeated with great slaughter. From the fall of Turgesius, that is, during the reign of each of the preceding monarchs of the Cinel-Eoghan, and of that of every other who intervened between them, down to the battle of Tara, under Malachi II., or Maelseachlainn, the Irish were almost incessantly at war with the Danes. But the victory of Tara was the most signal which our brave countrymen obtained during that long course of years. For, not only were the invaders defeated, but every hostage and bondsman of Ireland obtained his liberty. "It was then," I quote from the Four Masters, "Maelseachlainn himself issued the famous proclamation, in which he said :Every one of the Gaeidhil, who is in the territory of the foreigners, in servitude and bondage, let him go to his own territory in peace and happiness. This captivity was the Babylonian captivity of Ireland, until they were released by Maelseachlainn; it was, indeed, next to the captivity of hell." Should not Inishowen be proud for having given birth to this great monarch. Again, in the sixteenth year of the reign of Malachi II., we find him engaged with the Danes of Dublin, at which time he carried off a golden torques and a sword, which was preserved as an heirloom by the descendants of Tomar, heir apparent of the Scandinavian throne. The circumstance is thus related in the Annals of the Four Masters :"The ring of Tomar and the sword of Carlus were carried away by force by Maelseachlainn,† from the foreigners of Ath-Cliath." off their cattle and accoutrements, their goods and chattels. The foreigners of the province came together at Loch-Feabhail. After Aedh, king of Ireland, had learned that this gathering of strangers was on the borders of his country, he was not negligent in attending to them, for he marched towards them with all his forces; and a battle was fought fiercely and spiritedly on both sides between them. The victory was gained over the foreigners, (Danes) and a slaughter was made of them. Their heads were collected to one place, in presence of the king; and twelve score heads were reckoned before him, which was the number slain by him in that battle, besides the numbers of them who were wounded and carried off by him in the agonies of death, and who died of their wounds some time afterwards."-Four Masters, A.D. 864. + Maelseachlainn, Malachi, and M'Laughlin were the same name. This entry was the subject which gave rise to Moore's famous ballad : "Let Erin remember the days of old, In the year 999 we find Brian Boiroimhe, the son of Ceinneidigh, former ally of Malachi, turning, with a squadron of Connaughtmen, against him; and three years after, namely, in 1002, Brian usurped the monarchy, and deposed his sovereign. Brian reigned for 12 years. At this period highways were formed, and bridges began to be built in Ireland, and the people began to take surnames. In his reign, too, as is well known, was fought the celebrated battle of Clontarf, on Good Friday, April 23d, 1014, where the Danes were signally defeated, but Brian himself killed by the hand of a straggler. After the death of Brian, Malachi resumed the monarchy, and reigned nine years. Thirty days before his death he fought his last battle against the Danes. Concerning the death of Malachi the Four Masters say :- "Maelseachlainn Mor, son of Domhnall, son of Donnchadh, pillar of the dignity and nobility of the west of the world, died on Cro-inis Locha-Aininn, after having been forty-three years in sovereignty over Ireland, according to the Book of Cluain-mic- Nois, which places the reign of Brian, son of Kennedy, in the enumeration, at the end of nine years, after the battle of Cluain-tarbh, in the seventy-third year of his age, on the fourth of the Nones of September, on Sunday precisely, after intense penance for his sins and transgressions, after receiving the body of Christ and his blood, after being anointed by the hands of Amhalghaidh, successor of Patrick, for he and the successor of Colum Cille, and the successor of Ciaran, and most of the seniors of Ireland, were present at his death, and they sung masses, hymns, psalms, and canticles, for the welfare of his soul."-(Vol. II., p. 801, O'Donovan's Edition.) On the death of Malachi a terrible struggle commenced for the monarchy between the Hy Nialls, O'Briens, and O'Conors. Several stories are told regarding the warriors of Aileach at this stormy period; among others I have heard different versions of the history of Cucullin and his son, none of which, however, was so beautiful as the following, which was first published in the Lamp: "At the time that Queen Reachtha lived, and in the reign of O'Connor, a young Ulster chief, named Cucullin, manifested a great desire to excel in arms, and for this purpose was sent to Scotland to study, under the direction of an Amazon, whose fame had extended over half the world. He remained there for some time, and soon became celebrated for his prowess in the field. His wild, daring spirit led him into many a quarrel, but his surpassing strength and skill invariably proved his safeguard. No one dared to meet him in single combat. The might of his arm crushed like a thunderbolt-the flash of his sword was as fierce as heaven's lightning. In chasing the red deer on the hill top his step was the lightest. He tried his voice against the howling storm-it was lost in his shout. The earth trembled beneath his tread-he was the mightiest of the mighty. He soon became a proficient in the art of love as well as of war. He won the affections of a "faire ladie," the daughter of a Scottish chief. Their life seemed bright as a sunbeam, and lasting as eternity. Alas for human happiness! The leaves which now look green shall not be spared by the withering winds of autumn ere they part, and that for ever. Cucullin was recalled to his native land. The spell was broken. The trance had flown-eyes swam in the dew of the heart. The business which awaited him was imperative-delay was impossible. His father had fallen in war-the son must take his post. Dear as love is honour is ever dearer to the warrior, to all of true mould. He cannot love who wants honour, they are co-essential. Clouds darkened the brow of her who was lately the happiest of brides. She was inconsolable. A few short days more and Cucullin should be far away over the sea -far away to fight the angry battles of a barbarous time. She trembled for his fate; his father had fallen, but, then, she felt confidence in the magic of his steel, in the prowess of his arm. While he roamed over the mountains she paced the watch-tower of her father's castle to catch the music-echo of his distant shout reverberating through the deep valleys, or the nodding of the tall proud plume which her own hands had formed for him. The hour of parting arrived. Cucullin requested his bride if a son were born to train him up for the battle field; to send him for instruction to the Amazon, with whom he himself had made such proficiency, to make him a great warrior, so that if challenged, he should not brook, though instant death were the consequence; and if asked his name, he should regard it as an insult, and treat it accordingly. When thus fitted for the stern struggles of the time, he was to be sent to Ireland in search of his father. A gold chain was the token whereby he should be known, which was presented by Cucullin to his weeping bride at the moment of parting. She promised to obey all, and he departed to lead his troops to victory. It happened in due time that a son was born, who was called Conloach. Years rolled on, and he grew up to boyhood. He was sent to the woman-warrior, who had trained his father, to prepare for the warfare of the future. His progress was rapid; he was all that could be desired-brave, generous, and noble, and often as the fond mother gazed in ecstacy on his lovely face, she seemed to realise all the proud hopes and anticipations of the father. Meanwhile the latter was distinguishing himself in Ireland at the head of his troops, and as the echoes of his fame occasionally rose above the storms of the period, Conloach yearned for the hour which should bear him to his wild embrace. At length the long-wished for hour was arrived, and the affectionate mother put the gold chain around his neck, the token whereby his father should recognise him. Landing in Ulster, he directed his steps to Elagh, where O'Connor kept his court. He was soon beneath the shadow of the old castle, and knocked loudly at the gate for admittance. An officer of the court demanded his name before he could enter. Conloach, true to the charge which he had received from childhood, refused to comply, regarded the question as an insult, and resolved to treat it accordingly, by challenging the officer, or any one in the court of O'Connor, to single combat. The officer remonstrated, but in vain. The fiery spirit of the young chief was at its height, and in its wayward promptings he defied the proudest warrior in Ulster to make him tell his name. The assembled courtiers heard the challenge, and soon hastened to the spot. Cucullin having never been beaten in single combat requested the king's permission to treat the haughty youth as he thought proper. The king acceded; whereupon Cucullin demanded in peremptory terms the name of the young warrior, but without success. The victor of a hundred fights could not brook such indifference, and forthwith drew his brand with all the confidence of easy triumph. Conloach was before him with noble manly front, sword in hand, ready for the struggle. They fought. Victory for a long time |