Werewolves of Ossory The motif of the werewolf is strong in Irish folklore. There are a number of old tales about strange tribes of wolf-men living in remote areas of County Tipperary, whose assistance was often sought by the ancient kings of Ireland when they made war upon each other. There are also tales of strange beings - half-men, half-wolves - roaming the remote forest and mountain areas of the island. Indeed, one of the oldest written stories that we have about werewolves comes from Ireland. This comes from the pen of Giraldus Cambrensis who wrote down many old Irish tales. The events are supposed to have taken place just a few years before his arrival in Ireland in 1185.

The Werewolves of Ossory

from Banshees, Beasts and Brides from the Sea by Bob Curran,

published by Appletree Press

Several years before the arrival of Prince John in Ireland, a certain priest was travelling from the kingdom of Ulster towards Meath on some urgent and religious business. With him travelled a young boy, a novice at one of the religious houses in Ulster, as a kind of squire or helpmate on his travels. Their journey was a long and arduous one which took them through much strange and brooding country where the people still kept close to the old pagan ways. One evening, as the sun was setting, they reached a great and sprawling wood which ran along the borders of Meath and was known far and wide as part of the ecclesiastical See of Ossory. Dark was coming quickly, and the priest decided that the edge of the forest might make a good place to camp for the night. Accordingly, he lit a small fire, both for warmth and to keep wild forest animals away, and he and the boy prepared a simple evening meal for themselves. As night drew on, the violet sky overhead changed to a deeper hue and soon utter darkness spread across the entire countryside. The small fire burned low and the boy lay half-dozing whilst the holy man pored over his religious books. Whilst he was so doing, he suddenly became aware that the sounds from the neighbour ing woodlands, which had been quite loud at a time, had fallen away and an eerie silence pervaded the area. It was a strange thing and it badly frightened the priest for he was on holy business and was well aware that the Evil One was abroad on the road and was seeking to divert his path. Then, from the darkness beyond the fireglow came a voice, soft and gruff, but with a hint of urgency about it. 'Father!' it said. The priest looked towards the boy who appeared to be Iying fast asleep. Thinking that he had imagined it, he turned back to the pages of his book. But the voice came again, harsh and insistent: 'Father!' Rising, the priest closed his sacred book and walked to the edge of the fireglow. Standing there, he looked out into the darkness of the forest beyond. 'Who's there?' he asked, grasping the crucifix which hung about his neck, for he was sorely afraid of the machinations of the Evil One. 'Who calls me?' For a moment there was silence, then the same harsh voice came again. 'A penitent sinner who seeks only your blessing, Father', it replied. The priest clutched the crucifix even more tightly for he knew that Satan was the father of all lies, and that this might be a wily ruse to lure him into the darkness of the forest where he might be set upon by demons. Nevertheless, he took another step forward. 'If you are truly a repentent sinner', he said sternly, 'step forward into the firelight and reveal yourself so that I may hear your sins and grant you absolution.' There was a long pause and the darkness in front of the holy man appeared to deepen slightly. The voice came again. 'I - I cannot, Father. I am under a severe curse and if you were to see me, you would find my appearance strange.' It spoke with such pathos that the priest found himself quite moved. He peered against the darkness but could see nothing, save the movement of bushes in a light evening wind. When he spoke again, his tone was less stern and commanding. 'In my travels all across this country', he said kindly, 'I have seen many awful deformities. I have seen lepers and those who were born with terribly twisted bodies and faces. I have looked into countenances which were almost too terrible to gaze upon and I have given succour to those who were most sorely afflicted. I have seen men living under the most terrible of curses. So I doubt if anything that you can show me will alarm or disgust me. I therefore ask you again to come forward and let me gaze upon you so that I can see to whom it is that I grant the Lord's absolution.' He waited but there was no response from the night for a long, long while. Then the voice came again, still harsh, yet breaking with emotion. 'If you were to see me', it told the priest, 'you would be greatly afraid. And, in truth, it is not absolution for myself which brings me so close to your fire but rather it is to seek absolution for she who cannot come.' The priest was puzzled but he answered earnestly and in the same kindly tone. 'Tell me, are you diseased in some way?' he asked. 'After a fashion', answered the voice. 'But, Father, my form is so terrifying that you would be struck with fear if you were to behold it.' The priest answered, using the same kindly tone. 'I have God's word and His goodness and power to protect me', he said. 'Why should I be frightened by one of His creatures? Please, I beg you as a priest, come into the light so that I may see you and give you the blessing for which you ask.' By this time the boy had wakened and was now sitting by the edge of the fire looking out into the darkness with eyes that were wide and full of terror. He was only a novice and was unsettled by the strange, bodiless, growling voice. The priest motioned him to sit still and be quiet. 'Come forward!' he repeated. 'You cannot frighten me!' There was a movement in the darkness beyond the firelight and into the wan circle of brilliance came a huge grey wolf, its muzzle white and dripping and its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. The priest crossed himself in shock and the boy made to cry out but was struck dumb by terror. 'There!' said the wolf in that familiar voice. 'Now you see me! Are you not terrified?' The priest was fairly choking with fear but yet he shook his head. 'I - I am protected by the living God Himself', he managed to say, 'but what sort of creature are you for I believe that there is more to you than the form which I see before me?' The wolf looked at him with red eyes which glowed menacingly in the firelight. 'As I told you, I am one who lives under a terrible curse', it replied. 'Once I was like you but am now forced to wear this terrible form for a period of seven years. Yet in my heart I am still a devout Christian in need of succour and blessing. And there are yet more of us out in yonder forest who are aMicted with the same curse.' The priest composed himself slightly. 'And yet, you worship God and openly and freely acknowl edge the sacrifice of His son for mankind at Calvary?' he enquired. 'You can acknowledge that with all your heart?' The wolf stretched itself close to the fire and the boy ran back into the shadows and sat there, crouching in terror. 'Aye and gladly', said the creature. 'Although we wear this ghastly form, we are as human and in need of salvation as any other people.' The priest nodded thoughtfully, his initial terror beginning to fade. 'But how came you by this fearsome form?' he asked in wonder. 'And why must you wear it for seven years?' The wolf watched him warily. 'I am a member of Clan Allta, a tribe of this region', it answered, 'and like yourself, Father, we are believers in Jesus Christ and in the power of His salvation. However, in times long past, we were cursed for some ancient sin by the blessed Abbot Natalis.' The priest took in a sharp breath. He had heard of Natalis, who had come to Ireland shortly after the Blessed Patrick to bring the Word of God to a dark and pagan land. He had even read some of the holy man's works. From what he had read, he had always imagined the holy man to be exceedingly severe and inflexible in his teachings and one who would brook no deviation from his own interpretations of God's law. 'The sin which my clan committed has long been forgotten', went on the wolf, 'but the curse is still in force. Every seven years two of us must lose our mortal form to wear the skin of the wild wolf and must live in the deep woods away from the rest of our clan. When the seven years are up we shed our animal form and regain our human shape and two others must take our place. It is a terrible burden, Father, and one which will never be lifted, for Natalis is long dead. > > > Read the concluding part in this story From Beasts, Banshees and Brides from the Sea by Bob Curran