“Yes, do,” added Anna, who tried to like them.
“Well, you see,” began Deena, “this old ruin was once a magnificent church. It was built over seven hundred years ago, at the time when the English lords came over to live in Ireland and set the fashion of building grand churches and monasteries all over the country. This was one of the finest of them all, and would be to this day, perhaps, but for Cromwell’s army.”
“Yes, go on,” said Hannah, as Deena stopped to look off toward the distant hills. “Was it a big battle?”
“It was no battle at all,” replied her brother. “When Cromwell’s army came marching through the country the monks shut themselves up in this tower; but the soldiers went by without even stopping to look for them.”
“What made the ruins, then?” asked Columba. “I thought you said it was Cromwell’s army.”
“So it was,” replied Deena; “for when they had gone only two miles away the monks climbed up here to the top of the tower and rang the bells for joy. The soldiers heard the bells, and were so angry that they came back and destroyed the monastery and the Abbey.”
“Did they kill the monks?” asked Hannah.
“I don’t know, but I suppose they did,” replied her brother. “They destroyed many fine buildings and did many cruel deeds here in Ireland.”
“They didn’t destroy the Round Tower in Kilkenny,” said Columba. “Those round towers must have been good hiding-places for the monks.”
“That they were,” replied Deena. “The old stones would tell many wonderful tales if they could speak.”