The Celtic Riddle

The Gallarus Oratory was an extraordinary structure, very old, and set in a windswept plain with a view over to the water far away and three hills that looked like curling waves whose motion had been caught and frozen in some cataclysmic event in earth's early history. "The three sisters," Malachy said, following my glance. "That's what they're called. Now come look at the oratory."

It was made without mortar, just thousands and thousands of stones carefully placed to create a tiny early Christian church, maybe twenty feet by sixteen, its sides tapering up to form a corbelled arch roof and ceiling. It did indeed look a little like an upturned boat, its keel in the air. There was only one small window and one low door facing each other at either end.

I touched the walls inside. "A beauty, isn't it?" Ma- lachy said. "No mortar, but it's still watertight, after a thousand years! More. It is supposed to date to the eighth century. It's the same construction as those clo-chans we saw on the slope of Mount Eagle, except they were round, and this is a rectangle. A beauty," he repeated.

We heard a shout outside and hurried to find Jennifer and Paddy waving a piece of paper that had been folded and wedged until it was about an inch square.

"Found it around the back, between the stones," Paddy said.

"Hurry up, open it!" Jennifer exclaimed. "I've got the alphabet."

The two of them unfolded the paper as quickly as they could, but not fast enough for the others who crowded around.

"Is there anything on it?" Kevin asked, trying to peer over Paddy's shoulder.

"There is!" Jennifer crowed. "But it's too windy here. We'll have to translate it later. What about the hero one, what could that be."

"Now let's think about that," Malachy said, as we headed back to the van. "What do you say to the god that fashions heroes for a lord, Kev? Any of your brilliant ideas on this one?"

"Did you say hero?" Kev yelled.

"I did," Malachy said.

"Well, who's the greatest hero of the west of Ireland?" he said.

"Grand idea, Kev!" Malachy said.

"Okay," I said. "I give up. Who is the greatest hero of the west of Ireland?"

Kevin and Malachy looked horrified at my ignorance. Paddy merely smiled and opened up the van.

"Why Fionn MacCumhail!" Malachy said, saying something that sounded like Finn McCool. "Head of the Fianna, wasn't he? The greatest warriors ever. And, as it turns out, Fionn fought one of his greatest battles right here in Dingle. Can you get this thing moving any faster this time, now Paddy? And do you tink it's up to the climb?" he said, giving a tire a little kick.

"We'll go as fast as it will take us, Malachy," Paddy said. "Fast as it will go. Now hop in. Will you be following behind, Ms. McClintoch?"

"Where are we going?"

"Two possibles. Fionn MacCumhail's table, which is a dolmen in the Slieve Mish Mountains, or some sites around Ventry, where an epic battle was fought by MacCumhail. The dolmen will be a bit of a climb, and I may have to be the one to do it. If that's the case, I won't be doing it today," he said, squinting into the sun, now low.

"Then let's pause here for a moment," I said. "What about the other one, the one about the piercing spear waging war?"

Kevin scratched his head. "This one's got me puzzled," he said. "But I'll keep thinking."

"I'd think the piercing spear might very well be in Eamon's own study," I said. "It was filled with swords and spears and stuff. It could be Margaret's clue-she claims she destroyed hers without looking at it-and if so, Eamon might have wanted to make it easy for her to find. The first one was right on the property, at least down in the little cove. Maybe this one is there, too. If it is, she's probably found it already, unless she really meant it about not looking for any of them."

"How would we get that one?" Jennifer asked. "We'd have to get into the house to do it."

"Tere's no way I'm going into that fecking place," Paddy said.

"Me neither," Malachy said. "Nor I," Kevin agreed.

"I was just passing by on my way to Rose Cottage," I said, handing Margaret Byrne my card at the door of Second Chance. For a moment, she stared at it. "This is my assistant, Jennifer, by the way. Jennifer, this is Mrs. Byrne. I'm sorry to trouble you, and I'm not sure whether you were aware or not, but as you can see, I am the co-proprietor of an antiques and design shop in Toronto called Greenhalgh McClintoch. I have noticed that your home is up for sale, and it occurred to me that you might be thinking of selling some of the contents. I'm particularly interested in some of your husband's maps, which I saw the other day, if there are any that are not being given to Trinity College. I have a client who is a map collector and several of them are quite good. If those are not available," I went on, "I'd be most grateful if you could show us anything that you're thinking of selling."