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Authors: Maidhc Dainín Ó Sé

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‘It wasn’t long afterwards,’ he continued, ‘that I met Dempsey on a fair day in Carlow town. I had a drink with him and he told me I was only a stump of a fool not to have taken up Lucinda’s offer … Some time later, I was helping Walter to move a horse from one part of his land down to the bog. I told him that it didn’t look right that his wife and John Dempsey were so fond of each other. A fortnight after that he met me in a tavern in Carlow town. He had a few in. He told me off for spreading lies about his wife. While he was insulting me he raised his whip over my head. I caught the whip and wrapped it around his neck and told him
not to do such a thing again. After that he was as friendly with me as a cow in a cock of hay. I worked for Walter and Lucinda a day here and a day there after that but I minded my own business. If I saw her naked in bed with a man, I kept my mouth shut. Hunger is the best sauce, your honour.’

When James Battersby went into the witness box every eye in the room was on him. He was the one who had gathered all the evidence from Sunday, 9 November until the trial began. He would not be cross-examined but would read out a statement before the judge and jury. This is what he read:

‘I was present in the village of Oldleighlin near the house where Walter Sly’s body was found on Sunday 9 November, 1834 in the haggard five yards from the stable and seven yards from the door of the house. I saw the injury to the side of Walter Sly’s head and the hole near it where the bullet entered. I was present when the box in which the gun was kept was found. Lucinda Sly said to me that she had no key for the box and that she did not know what was in it. I found the key in her apron pocket. After the gun had been examined it was established that it had been fired some hours previously as the smell of gunpowder was still fresh. I asked Constable Hudson, who was present, to insert his finger in the barrel of the gun. When he had done that, he showed me the sweat on his finger. I was virtually certain then that the shot that killed Walter Sly was fired from that gun. I looked over at John Dempsey. I realised that he was very edgy when I was staring at him. He informed me that he would tell me the whole story when he made his statement in the barracks. I knew then that it was Dempsey
and Lucinda Sly who planned the murder. But when I questioned Dempsey some days later in his cell in Carlow Gaol he said that he had no part in the murder. But I went to him a week later and told him that I thought he was not telling the truth. Dempsey told me the truth in the presence of two attorneys who were with me.’

That strengthened the case for the Crown. Campion said that he had no more witnesses to call for the defence. It would do his case no good if he put Lucinda in the witness box. She was just recovering from the tremor she got when she heard Dempsey’s testimony.

Before the judge instructed the jury to retire to the jury room to arrive at a verdict he told them about their grave responsibility.

Lucinda Sly and John Dempsey were before the court and had not yet been found guilty. The Crown was depending on them to consider the evidence dispassionately. He instructed them to go into the back room and not to come before him until they had reached a verdict.

The jury spent four hours discussing the evidence. They would be close to a decision when one of them would come up with another question and so on until in the end they reached a verdict.

An unnatural silence descended on the courtroom as the jurors took their seats. Every eye was on them.

‘Have you reached a verdict in the case of the Crown versus Lucinda Sly and John Dempsey?’ the judge asked them.

The foreman of the jury stood.

‘We have reached a verdict, your honour,’ he began. ‘In the case of the Crown versus Lucinda Sly, we find Lucinda Sly guilty of the
murder of Walter Sly. In the case of the Crown versus John Dempsey, we find John Dempsey guilty of murder.’

The judge looked at the two of them. He put on his black cap.

‘Lucinda Sly,’ he spoke in a grave tone, ‘it is the judgement of this court that on the 30th of March at half past two in the
afternoon
outside Carlow Gaol you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your soul.’

When the crowd in the courtroom heard this, they cheered. Lucinda fell in a weakness for a second time. Then the judge brought his gavel down on the bench.

‘Silence in court,’ he ordered. ‘Now, John Dempsey,’ he
continued
, ‘on the same date, at the same time and in the same place, you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your soul.’

On 30 March the sky was clear with not a cloud to be seen. There was a cold, light breeze blowing from the north with a harsh streak to it. Crowds were gathering from early morning in the space before the Gaol. It was a big day in town. It wasn’t every day that two criminals were hanged.

Everybody wanted to be present and to have the best view when the trapdoor beneath their feet was sprung and they were hanging, their feet shaking for their sins until the life was gone from their bodies.

The gaol door opened and a Protestant minister and a Catholic priest walked out with four policemen escorting the two prisoners. Lucinda appeared weak and drawn but Dempsey walked out the door with his head held high like a man who was ready to go
before God. He had made his confession to the priest a few days earlier and had told the authorities – and had admitted in court – that Lucinda and he had planned the murder of Walter Sly and that it was they who had murdered him. Lucinda had not
admitted
that she had any part in the murder. A column of the British army and a large group of police were present in case there was any trouble during the hanging.

There were steps leading up to the gallows. The ropes were put around the prisoners’ necks. The minister and one of the
policemen
had to keep Lucinda standing while the hangman was putting the rope around her neck. The crowd stood there baying for blood.

‘Hang the witch! Hang the two of them!’ they shouted.

Dempsey made an attempt to speak to the crowd but they were calling for his and Lucinda’s blood and nobody heard him.

‘Hang them! Hang them!’ they shouted.

The trapdoors were sprung at the same time. Within a few minutes, they were dead.

The old man who had sat beside me every evening for a fortnight turned towards me; he had the same woollen hat on him that he was wearing the first evening I met him in Carlow town.

‘It is a fortnight since we met,’ he began. ‘That is the story of Lucinda Sly and John Dempsey. She is the last woman who was hanged in Carlow town or county but, do you know, I don’t think she is satisfied in eternity because – do you see that shop in the place where she was convicted and hanged? It was there the court that convicted Lucinda and Dempsey was convened in 1835. I don’t think she is happy in the place she went to after she was hanged and perhaps she is not in heaven yet. People see her ghost from time to time and strange things happen in the dead of night in the restaurant and in the shop. There are people who say that her spirit is haunting the place waiting for release from this world.’

I looked at the old man.

‘Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts,’ I said.

‘Oh, I believe strongly in them,’ he assured me. ‘Not only that, but maybe it is I who will make the connection. Have you finished your work here in Carlow?’ he enquired.

‘I’m going home tomorrow,’ I told him.

‘My work isn’t finished yet,’ he said, rising from his seat. He began to walk towards the grocer shop.

He was just out of sight inside the shop when an important question struck me. I went after him into the shop. I looked all around but there was no sight of the old man. The attendant was looking at me expecting me to buy something.

‘Where did the old man who came in just before me go?’ I asked him.

He looked at me.

‘You are the first customer that came in the door in half an hour,’ he said.

I looked around again. The attendant looked at me carefully.

‘Are you the man,’ he enquired, ‘who was sitting on the seat out there every evening for the last fortnight writing in a copybook?’

‘I am,’ I told him, ‘and the old man I am looking for was sitting beside me.’

The attendant stood there still staring at me.

‘I saw no old man beside you,’ he spoke in disbelief, ‘but a few times I passed the seat I thought I heard you talking gibberish to yourself.’

I didn’t say another word but walked out the door.

I am constantly wondering since then about the man with the
woollen hat. Was he from this world or was he sent from the other world to somehow help Lucinda Sly?

I set this down exactly as the old man told me and, no matter what the shopkeeper said, it is he who told me about the events in Oldleighlin.

Irish edition published in 2008 by Coiscéim
English translation published in 2013 by
Liberties Press
140 Terenure Road North | Terenure | Dublin 6W
Tel: +353 (1) 405 5701
www.libertiespress.com | [email protected]

Trade enquiries to Gill & Macmillan Distribution
Hume Avenue | Park West | Dublin 12
T: +353 (1) 500 9534 | F: +353 (1) 500 9595 | E: [email protected]

Copyright © Maidhc Dainín Ó Sé, 2008
English translation © Gabriel Fitzmaurice, 2013
The authors assert their moral rights.

ebook ISBN: 978–1–909718–03–6

A CIP record for this title is available from the British Library.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or storage in any information or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher in writing.

The publishers acknowledge the financial support of Foras na Gaelige in relation to the translation costs associated with this project.

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