Amhrain na hEireann (Songs of Ireland)

The False Lady

The birds had been singing in the trees all day, but it was dusk now. Orla and Diarmud sat outside, enjoying the last rays of the sun.

"Diarmud..." Orla wound her hair around her finger. "You'll stay tonight? We'll take our pleasure by candlelight or firelight...whatever you wish."

Diarmud turned his head and looked Orla in the eye. "No, Orla. I'll not stay with you tonight. I'll be going home."

Orla sighed, her lips forming a dissatisfied O. "I suppose you must go, then." She turned slightly away from Diarmud.

"Aye, I must." Diarmud rose from the grass, offering a hand to Orla to help her up and going to where his horse was tethered to a tree. He mounted in a fluid motion and smiled at Orla, who had followed him and now stood at his stirrup.

"Kiss me before you go, Diarmud." She tilted her face upward.

Diarmud looked down at her with a smile. "Gladly." He stooped, leaning over the edge of his saddle to reach her lips.

Orla wrapped her arms around his neck, then suddenly stabbed him with a knife.

Diarmud sat up, pressing a hand to his chest. "Orla!" His eyes were wide with pain and shock. "You've killed me...you false...woman..." He slumped in the saddle, the blood oozing through his now-limp fingers onto the saddle.

Orla took the horse's bridle to keep it from fleeing and took a step back to survey her handiwork. "There." She led the horse up to her door, then paused. She stood for several long moments, her face twisted in thought.

Finally she took hold of Diarmud's body and pulled. She almost collapsed under his weight, but managed to stay on her feet and drag Diarmud inside the door.

Orla put her hands on her hips, then looked back outside at Diarmud's horse. "Off you go," she said shortly. The horse didn't move. Orla sighed, stepped outside, and slapped the horse's flank. "Go!" This time the horse went, trotting away then slowing to a walk.

Orla waited until the horse had disappeared, then went inside and shut the door. She listened for the maid came to light the fires, but heard nothing. Taking Diarmud under the arms, she dragged him into her chamber and let his body lie on the floor while she barred the door and cleaned the bloody knife on his clothes.

"Lie there, Diarmud." She set the knife on the table beside her bed, then perched on the edge of her bed and gazed at his body. "A pity. But you must have had another love besides me." She dressed for bed, blew out the candle, and went to sleep.

The next morning, she woke and looked down at Diarmud. He lay where she had left him the night before, his body stiff and still. Orla went to the door and listened for the sounds that meant the maid was in the house. Hearing the noise of the poker in the fireplace, she unbarred the door.

"Help!" She called. "Maura, come here!"

Within a few moments, the maid had come and was standing in the doorway. "What is it, my lady?"

Orla was sitting on her bed, staring down at Diarmud's body. "This man was in my chamber, Maura. I had to kill him."

Maura was instantly at her side, murmuring and caressing her hair. "Oh, dear, how terrible. Here, don't think about it."

Orla let herself be fondled by the older woman, sighing. "I want his body away, Maura! Help me. You'll help me, won't you?" She looked pitifully up at Maura.