One day a fine, handsome young fellow, called Jemmy Nowlan, set off to
walk to the fair at Slane, whither some cattle of his had been sent
off for sale that same morning early. And he was dressed in his best
clothes, spruce and neat; and not one in all the county round could
equal Jemmy Nowlan for height, strength, or good looks. So he went
along quite gay and merry in himself, till he came to a lonely bit
of the road where never a soul was to be seen; but just then the sky
became black-dark, as if thunder were in the air, and suddenly he heard
the tramp of a horse behind him. On turning round he saw a very dark,
elegant looking gentleman, mounted on a black horse, riding swiftly
towards him.
“Jemmy Nowlan,” said the dark horseman, “I have been looking for you
all along the road. Get up now, quickly, behind me, and I’ll carry you
in no time to the great fair of Slane; for, indeed, I am going there
myself, and it would be very pleasant to have your company.”
“Thank your honour kindly,” said Jemmy; “but it’s not for the likes of
me to ride with your lordship; so I would rather walk, if it’s pleasing
to your honour; but thanks all the same.”
Truth to tell, Jemmy in his own mind had a fear of the strange
gentleman and his black horse, and distrusted them both, for had he not
heard the people tell strange stories of how young men had been carried
off by the fairies, and held prisoners by their enchantments down deep
in the heart of the hill under the earth, where never a mortal could
see them again or know their fate; and they were only allowed to come
up and see their kindred on the nights the dead walked, and then they
walked with them as they rose from the graves? So again he began to
make his excuses, and meanwhile kept looking round for some path by
which he could escape if possible.
“Come now,” said the dark horseman, “this is all nonsense, Jemmy
Nowlan; you really must come with me.”
And with that he stooped down and touched him lightly on the shoulder
with his whip, and in an instant Jemmy found himself seated on the
horse, and galloping away like the wind with the dark horseman; and
they never stopped nor stayed till they came to a great castle in a
wood, where a whole set of servants in green and gold were waiting on
the steps to receive them. And they were the smallest people Jemmy had
ever seen in his life; but he made no remark, for they were very civil,
and crowded round to know what they could do for him.
“Take him to a room and let him dress,” said the gentleman, who
appeared to own the castle. And in the room Jemmy found a beautiful
suit of velvet, and a cap and feather. And when the little servants had
dressed him they led him to the large hall that was all lit up and hung
with garlands of flowers; and music and dancing were going on, and many
lovely ladies were present, but not one in the hall was handsomer than
Jemmy Nowlan in his velvet suit and cap and feather.
“Will you dance with me, Jemmy Nowlan?” said one lovely lady.
“No, Jemmy: you must dance with me,” said another.
And they all fought for him, so he danced with them all, one after the
other, the whole night through, till he was dead tired and longed to
lie down and sleep.
“Take Jemmy Nowlan to his room, and put him to bed,” said the gentleman
to a red-haired man; “but first he must tell me a story.”
“I have no story, your honour,” said Jemmy, “for I am not book-learned;
but I am very tired, let me lie down and sleep.”
“Sleep, indeed,” said the gentleman; “not if I can help it. Here,
Davy”—and he called the red-haired man—“take Jemmy Nowlan and put him
out; he can tell no story. I will have no one here who can’t tell me a
story. Put him out, he is not worth his supper.”
So the red-haired man thrust Jemmy out at the castle gate, and he was
just settling himself to sleep on a bench outside, when three men came
by bearing a coffin.
“Oho, Jemmy Nowlan,” they said, “you are welcome. We just wanted a
fourth man to carry the coffin.”
And they made him get under it with them, and away they marched over
hedge and ditch, and field and bog, through briars and thorns, till
they reached the old churchyard in the valley, and then they stopped.
“Who will dig a grave?” said one.
“Let us draw lots,” said another.
And the lot fell on Jemmy. So they gave him a spade, and he worked and
worked till the grave was dug broad and deep.
“This is not the right place at all for a grave,” said the leader of
the party when the grave was finished. “I’ll have no one buried in this
spot, for the bones of my father rest here.”
So they had to take up the coffin again, and carry it on over field and
bog till they reached another churchward, where Jemmy was obliged to
dig a second grave; and when it was finished, the leader cried out—
“Who shall we place in the coffin?”