One evening in 1692 [1652!], Captain Browne, Confederate warden of Ross Castle, was standing among its battlements watching his sentries below and glancing every now and then at the drawbridge a little to the east.Today, he knew, the Confederates and the Cromwellians had given battle at Knocknaclashy, County Cork, and veteran that he was he felt that the Confederates must lose. They would then retire to this very castle of Ross, the enemy at their heels, and here the Irish would make their final stand. "And then what?" Captain Browne feared, not for himself, but for his only child, Amy, who lived with him and who was in the full bloom of young womanhood now.
Known as "The Fair Maid of Ross," Amy was sought after by all the young officers of the garrison, the most persistent being a lieutenant Raymond Villiers, descendant of an old English settler and owner of considerable estates along the river Maine. Well acquainted with the young officer's circumstances, the warden favoured his attentions but for reasons best known to herself Amy remained cold and aloof. "By my faith,' thought Captain Browne, who had been considering the matter, "I'll settle the question now," and calling his gilly, he asked that Miss Amy be sent to him ...
Captain Browne rebuked his daughter for her rejection of Villiers. “You must marry young Villiers. He is worthy in every way.” But Amy’s heart was set on Donough McCarthy of Glenmourne, who “was robbed of his estates by Cromwell; but that,” declared Amy, “is all the more reason I shouldn’t play him false.”
Their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Donough himself, bringing the bad news that, that very morning, their Irish comrades-in-arms under Lord Muskerry had been defeated by Cromwell’s men, and were making their way to the castle. Donough himself had been sent ahead to help prepare the castle for siege.
Some days later, with the castle besieged by Cromwell’s forces under Edmund Ludlow, Villiers approached Amy one evening and requested once again that she consent to marry him. Once again she refused; and he left her, vowing revenge on her and Donough McCarthy both.
From then onwards, Amy watched Villiers closely; and one night she saw him unmoor a boat and start to row silently towards the woods on the east of the bay. Amy followed him to the enemy encampment, and hiding nearby, overheard him bargaining with Ludlow for a captaincy in exchange for betraying the castle. He might, he said, be able to help the English gain entry via the drawbridge; but there was also the matter of an ancient prophecy, “that Ross can never be taken until enemy ships sail upon the lake;” and if Ludlow could arrange for boat sections to be brought overland from Kinsale, assembled on the shore, and floated onto the lake, then the castle might surrender.
Returning before Villiers, Amy persuaded her father to strengthen the guard on the drawbridge; but she did not yet reveal Villiers’ treachery. Seeing that it was impossible to take the castle via the drawbridge, Villiers deserted and, choosing the cloak of night again, once more rowed across to the enemy camp. Once more Amy followed him, but this time he heard and fired at her, and she fell wounded back into the boat.
Fortunately, a stiff breeze sent the boat back across the bay to the castle shore, where Donough McCarthy himself found her the next morning. With attention to her wounds, she was soon up and about again; but meanwhile, Ludlow had indeed fetched the boat sections from Kinsale, and his men were even now bringing them up the River Laune. Taking some men of his own, Donough attacked the convoy on the river, and had the satisfaction of killing the traitor Villiers, but the ships got through, and seeing them one morning on the lake, flags waving and cannon mounted on attack, the castle’s defenders remembered the prophecy and surrendered on honourable terms.
... Shortly afterwards, Donough of Glenmourne and his troopers rode westward over the mountains and dispossessed the puritan undertaker who held his home and lands. Then taking to himself as wife “The Fair Maid of Ross,” he also took into his care the stout old warden who lived with them for the rest of his days in contentment and ease.
Abridged from “Legends of Killarney”, a MAC Publications 1999 reprint of Donal O’Cahill’s edited collection of 1956.
Their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Donough himself, bringing the bad news that, that very morning, their Irish comrades-in-arms under Lord Muskerry had been defeated by Cromwell’s men, and were making their way to the castle. Donough himself had been sent ahead to help prepare the castle for siege.
Some days later, with the castle besieged by Cromwell’s forces under Edmund Ludlow, Villiers approached Amy one evening and requested once again that she consent to marry him. Once again she refused; and he left her, vowing revenge on her and Donough McCarthy both.
From then onwards, Amy watched Villiers closely; and one night she saw him unmoor a boat and start to row silently towards the woods on the east of the bay. Amy followed him to the enemy encampment, and hiding nearby, overheard him bargaining with Ludlow for a captaincy in exchange for betraying the castle. He might, he said, be able to help the English gain entry via the drawbridge; but there was also the matter of an ancient prophecy, “that Ross can never be taken until enemy ships sail upon the lake;” and if Ludlow could arrange for boat sections to be brought overland from Kinsale, assembled on the shore, and floated onto the lake, then the castle might surrender.
Returning before Villiers, Amy persuaded her father to strengthen the guard on the drawbridge; but she did not yet reveal Villiers’ treachery. Seeing that it was impossible to take the castle via the drawbridge, Villiers deserted and, choosing the cloak of night again, once more rowed across to the enemy camp. Once more Amy followed him, but this time he heard and fired at her, and she fell wounded back into the boat.
Fortunately, a stiff breeze sent the boat back across the bay to the castle shore, where Donough McCarthy himself found her the next morning. With attention to her wounds, she was soon up and about again; but meanwhile, Ludlow had indeed fetched the boat sections from Kinsale, and his men were even now bringing them up the River Laune. Taking some men of his own, Donough attacked the convoy on the river, and had the satisfaction of killing the traitor Villiers, but the ships got through, and seeing them one morning on the lake, flags waving and cannon mounted on attack, the castle’s defenders remembered the prophecy and surrendered on honourable terms.
... Shortly afterwards, Donough of Glenmourne and his troopers rode westward over the mountains and dispossessed the puritan undertaker who held his home and lands. Then taking to himself as wife “The Fair Maid of Ross,” he also took into his care the stout old warden who lived with them for the rest of his days in contentment and ease.
Abridged from “Legends of Killarney”, a MAC Publications 1999 reprint of Donal O’Cahill’s edited collection of 1956.
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