Castle McDermott

A shrill cry echoes in the night. Candlelight illuminates Freya's face from across the room. Looking into my sister’s wide eyes, I know she heard it too. I hear shuffling from somewhere inside the cottage, footsteps on the floor, light moving its way closer to the door frame.

“Freya! Saorise!”

“Da!” I throw my blanket off and run over to him. My father catches me in his arms and for a fleeting moment, I feel safe. I can smell my sister's lavender shampoo and know she has joined us.

“Where’s Mam?” Freya says, panic in her voice.

“I’m right here.”

I look over at her holding onto a lantern and see the tears welling in her eyes.

“What are we going to do?” asks Freya.

“What can we do?” my mam says, her voice breaking as she joins us. Intertwined, the four of us crumple to the floor crying. My mind drifts back to my first real memory of the banshee warning someone in our village.

I was fifteen. The McDonough clan heard the wail and within a week their granda had passed on. He had been plowing the fields in the morning, and by the afternoon they found him leaning up against the north stone wall, his eyes still fixed on the field of dairy cows.

His grandson, Liam, is my age but slightly shorter with blue eyes, messy cinnamon-colored hair, and a touch of freckles just on the bridge of his pale nose. Being from different parts of the village, we meet at the creek every morning to collect water together.

“I saw her, ye know? The banshee. She flew through the woods, her long milky hair trailing in the wind,” Liam remembered. “Some people in the village told my da the Banshee is the spirit of Una from Clan McDerm–.”

“McDermott? As in Castle McDermott?” I interrupted.

There was a small abandoned castle almost the exact size of the island it was on in Lough Key, lake just north of Boyle in County Roscommon. It was deteriorating and on the brink of collapse.

“What happened to her,” I asked.

“She fell in love with a boy from a lower family. He was her shíorghrá, her soulmate. Her father, the Chief, didn’t accept their relationship and refused to let her leave the island, hoping that this would stop them. In secret, the boy began swimming across Lough Key to reach the castle. During one of these crossings, tragedy struck and he drowned. Una died from grief and now only leaves the island to warn others of impending death.”

The sunrise brought warm light through the garden and into our home. Freya and I dragged our cots to our parents room and slept there the rest of the night. Breakfast was quiet. We eat berries we picked fresh yesterday because I’m too frightened to go to the creek for water to warm our porridge in the hearth; Mam won’t let Da go either. By lunch it's clear that we need to leave the house - not only for water and firewood, but to relieve ourselves. We go everywhere as a family. At the creek we see the oldest Murphy son, and tell him to send for the local priest.

Father Patrick Quinn comes over after dinner but Mam and Da send us away so we can’t hear what they’re saying. Freya and I share my bed and speak in hushed tones, straining to hear anything. The full moon just crests the treetops by the time Father Quinn leaves. We timidly come out of our room, anxious about the outcome.

“We have to be brave. We don’t know who the Banshee warned us about but it doesnna matter. Yer mam and I talked to Father Quinn and we have a plan set if it’s one of us. If it’s–,” but Da can’t continue.

“We can’t imagine life without either of ye, so it’s best just to wait and see I s’pose,” cries Mam.

We attempt to go to bed, but I close my eyes and can't sleep. My mind is racing about who in my family is marked to die. Whatever my parents’ plan is, it isn't going to be enough. We need to be brave and avoid it. I begin to picture my family, trying to imagine even just one of us not being here. Da towers over all of us, has apple green eyes and a heart of gold. No one can match his storytelling at bedtime, or replace his colossal laugh.

Mam is known in the village for her singing; she knows every song and sometimes makes up her own. Mam’s wispy chestnut hair cannot be contained in the plait she puts it in everyday, no matter how tight she does it. It matches her: demanding to be wild and free. I’m a bit like Mam in that way, my hair cascades down to my waist, golden like honey. Always unkempt, tangled, bits of twigs and leaves nesting away in there.

Freya takes after Da, long and lean with olive green eyes, her smile is warm and infectious. I remember the first time she smiled at me. A tiny bundle placed in my lap.

I crawl into bed with her, snuggling in close.

“Freya,” I whisper.

“Canna sleep either?”

“Liam said when the banshee came to his family that he saw her. I want to go see her myself and see how we can stop this from happening. I need to go to Castle McDermott to see Una myself.” I brace myself, knowing that Freya could be scared and might tell our parents to try to stop me. She jolts up in bed, grabs my hand and says, “tonight?”

The morning sunrise pierces through the shutters covering my bedroom window, putting amber lines on the wall just above where Freya is still sleeping. Although I desperately wanted to, there was no way we could have gone the night before - we just weren’t prepared. It would be a long journey, and for that we need food. Plus, there was the issue of the castle being on an island. We need to find a boat.

The whole family goes to the creek. There, I’m able to talk to the person I want most to see: Liam. We sit at the water’s edge, far from my parents' listening ears and I fill him in on the banshee. His family had already heard from people in the village.

“Any chance you have family who live near Lough Key?”

He nods, eyes squinting into the sun.

“Do you know of any row boats along the shore?”

His eyes narrow even further.

“Aye, the Burkes on me mam’s side. They have a small one tucked away under a giant oak tree. We use it to fish in exchange for some of my mam’s stew. Why?”

“Ah, no reason.”

He cocks his head to the side.

“My da’s been wanting to fish, needs to know which family to ask,” I say nonchalantly.

I switch subjects to the water striders near the pails we haven’t filled up yet.

“I think my mam’s calling me. See ye ‘morrow!” I say to him - though I know I won’t.

My family makes our way back home and for the rest of the day Freya and I are careful to sneak bits of food we think won’t be easily missed. A handful of picked berries, some nuts and one boxty each. Although it’s a dangerous take, if Mam notices before bed we will just take our lashing and lie about being hungry. I put it all in an empty barley sack under my bed; it would have to wait until the sun set, as will I.

Freya and I fake feeling unwell so we can go to bed early, just to have more time to go over our plan and pathway to the boat. We know where the Burkes live, but finding the right tree in the dark after traveling on foot for most of the night will be time-consuming. As we enter our bedroom, we hear our parents say, “being so scared is making ‘em sick.” But, I’m not scared. I’m not even angry. I just want information.

And I’m going to get it.

As soon as the North Star shines in the sky and we know Mam and Da are asleep, we creep out the front door and scamper through the front garden, avoiding the gate that would be too loud to open. We scramble over the fence spilling onto the road. With no neighbors to worry about, we are able to start our journey on the main road, cloaks over our heads, eyes ahead, nerves wild.

Lough Key is north. The land is mostly flat, dotted with family farm land and broken up with clusters of woods. Freya is first to break the silence.

“The first farm is the Murphy’s, then the Doyle’s… I remember ‘cause I helped sow their fields the summer before last. The Walshes’ come right before the woods.”

Each farm brings its own set of problems. The Murphy’s raise dairy cows. We catch a whiff of their earthy pies before we sidestep each one, grateful our eyes have adjusted to the dark. The Doyle’s came next and is twice the size of the Murphy’s. They raise lambs.

Freya practices the names of each one as we pass by, though there was no way to know if they were remembered correctly. We barely reach the Walshes’ barley fields when we see a ghostly figure flying above us, followed by the same sinister shriek that slices through the night. Grabbing each other's hands, we sprint toward the edge of the forest. As we stumble across the field, it doesn’t take long for the stalks and rough terrain to rip our hands away from each other.

We break through the thicket into the forest and crash onto the ground. I can't hear anything other than our heavy breathing, my chest on fire. I could have laid there all night - even though the Castle is nagging in my mind. Hearing the twig snap only ten feet away jolts me instantly out of my exhaustion. I’m on my feet, scampering over to Freya, putting myself between her and whatever comes our way. A shadowy figure breaks between the trees coming toward us.

“It was easier tracking you down once the banshee flew over. You left half the path in ruins,” Liam smirked.

“God save us,” I gasped, hand clutching my chest, begging my heart to not explode. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you were going after her, I remembered telling you about Una and Castle McDermott.”

“You should have warned us - told us you were coming.” Freya sputtered.

“Well ye know now. Shall we go on?” he urged.

We trundle through the forest, sharing the boxty and berries we stowed away. It was the middle of the night, yes, but the anticipation had started up our appetites. I feel safer having one more addition to our party. It also helps remembering that a banshee can’t hurt you, she comes only to warn. A sudden, nagging feeling struck me. I turn to face Liam.

“I didn’t think to come here when it was your family, Liam… I’m sorry.”.

“To be fair,” Liam says, “neither did I, and Granda was getting older.”

He stays silent for a moment, and then looks over at me quizzically. “Why did you decide to do this?”

“I dunno; I need to see her for myself. If someone is going to be taken away from me, or if I’m the one who is marked, I want to know why. I do wish I’d been more brave when it was someone else, but now that it’s me I canna sit back and just wait.”

“We’ve relied on village stories for so long,” pipes in Freya, “it’s time we learn for ourselves - with our own eyes.”

Since Liam is with us, he takes us directly to the boat. Half the size of a jolly boat, this small wooden vessel is just big enough for the three of us to jam into. Freya is paddling up front, Liam plops himself in the middle, I’m steering from the stern. It takes some time for us to catch a rhythm as we begin to glide across the silent lake. We have an unsettling feeling as we look ahead at the nothingness. The misty waters shroud Castle McDermott in a ghostly white veil but we know it looms ahead.

After we drag the boat onto shore, we are greeted by the weed-choked courtyard of the castle - overtaken by shrubs and ivy creeping up the walls. In the middle of the wall facing us, framed by coarse threatening ivy, was a small open doorway. Despite the rush to get here, we suddenly find ourselves glued to where we stand. Freya takes the first step forward, Liam and I following closely behind her. She is the first to reach the doorway. I put my hand in hers and step through.

The roof has been gone for centuries, worn down by the years of rain, wind, and sun. The moonlight lights the Great Hall like a chandelier, shining on the piles of broken wood and debris scattered about; more signs that this place has withstood the elements for hundreds of years. Another shriek pierces the night. We keep looking around the ancient Hall, our heads on a swivel. I’m waiting for Una to come through the walls or sweep down from the ceiling. None of us moves for what feels like an eternity.

Liam speaks first:. “Maybe she’s hiding in one of the other rooms?”

We move from the center of the castle to the remnants of the room to the west, accidentally stepping on each other's feet as we walk so close together. It looks the same as the room we just left, only smaller. The moon looks down at us, casting shadows against the walls. One last room to check.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until we cross the length of the castle and enter the furthest room. Attached to the outer wall is a tower and there's just enough light to see four white faces staring back at us. The closest barn owl stares through us - daring us to speak. I gasp, and she launches from the window, coming right at us. Just as she’s overhead, she shrieks - that same piercing warning. The other three follow her, taking off into the night, leaving their nest temporarily behind.