The Legend of the Corrib King by Tom McCaughren Page B

of nets. For, as Jamesie says, if enough salmon don’t get back up the rivers to spawn they could be wiped out.’
    â€˜We reckon that’s what Pakie means,’ said Tapser, ‘when he says, Seek not the pike that struck him down, But the hand that seeks to take the crown .’
    â€˜That it’s not the pike fish that are the problem,’ said Róisín, ‘but the poachers.’
    â€˜That’s my reckoning too,’ Martin told them. ‘But I didn’t think you’d come across them on Illaun na Shee. We searched it and found nothing. We’ve checked out a good few of the islands.’
    â€˜I thought you said there wasn’t much poaching up around this end of the lake,’ recalled Cowlick.
    â€˜So I did,’ said Martin, ‘but they’re probably using the islands up here to hide out on and store their nets. If you go up to the hatchery in Cong you’ll see some of the nets that have already been seized this year. I reckon they move around from one island to another so as to be one step ahead of us. They probably came back to Illaun na Shee knowing we had already searched it.’
    â€˜And what were their children doing?’
    â€˜Well, they probably lie low during the day, so I’d say their children were out stretching their legs when you saw them dancing around the fairy thorn last night.’ Martin paused. ‘But what does the rest of the poem mean? That’s the problem. Where are we to look for them now? And where are they holding Pakie?’
    â€˜We haven’t been able to figure out the rest of it either,’ said Cowlick.
    â€˜But we’re working on it,’ added Rachel.
    â€˜Well, don’t be going and getting yourselves into any more trouble,’ warned Martin. ‘If you get any more bright ideas, let me know before you do anything.’
    â€˜That’s what we tried to do,’ Jamesie told him, ‘but that other guard only laughed at us.’
    â€˜You can hardly blame him,’ said Martin, ‘when you come in talking about fairies and things. You have to be sensible.’ He threw a leg over his bicycle and got ready to go.
    â€˜What are you going to do now?’ asked Jamesie.
    â€˜Have a look around for those two buckos in the green van. And remember what I told you, keep away from Illaun na Shee or I’ll have to send you home. As I said, these people are dangerous, so leave them to us.’
    When Martin had cycled off up the lane they lit the fire again and started to get their dinner ready. Nuadha was grazing contentedly nearby and Prince was hopping around trying in vain to catch a white butterfly.
    â€˜Well, at least he’s not a clipe,’ said Rachel.
    â€˜A what?’ asked Jamesie.
    â€˜A clipe. You know, a clash-bag, a tell-tale.’
    Jamesie smiled. He found some of their northern sayings very amusing.
    â€˜The man with the rings,’ said Cowlick. ‘What fair could he have meant?’
    Jamesie shrugged. ‘There’s a fair in Clonbur. But that isn’t until Friday.’
    â€˜Still,’ said Tapser, ‘that could be the one.’
    â€˜In the meantime,’ said Róisín, ‘unless we spot that van, we’ve got to figure out the rest of the poem. I think that’s where the real clue is, the clue maybe even to where Pakie’s being held prisoner.’
    â€˜It seems to be trying to tell us where the story is,’ said Rachel. ‘You know, Beneath tall spires of gold the Story is told. But the only story I know that has a capital S is the Bible.’
    â€˜That’s true,’ said Tapser. He thought for a moment, then exclaimed, ‘The Bible, spires – a church! Some place where there’s a church!’
    â€˜What about that other island you told us about, Jamesie?’ asked Cowlick. ‘Remember, you said there was a church on it.’
    â€˜Inchagoill?’ Jamesie shook his