The Curse of the Fires and of the Shadows

One summer night, when there was peace, a score of Puritan troopers
under the pious Sir Frederick Hamilton, broke through the door of the
Abbey of the White Friars which stood over the Gara Lough at Sligo.
As the door fell with a crash they saw a little knot of friars,
gathered about the altar, their white habits glimmering in the steady
light of the holy candles. All the monks were kneeling except the
abbot, who stood upon the altar steps with a great brazen crucifix in
his hand. 'Shoot them!' cried Sir Frederick Hamilton, but none
stirred, for all were new converts, and feared the crucifix and the
holy candles. The white lights from the altar threw the shadows of
the troopers up on to roof and wall. As the troopers moved about, the
shadows began a fantastic dance among the corbels and the memorial
tablets. For a little while all was silent, and then five troopers
who were the body-guard of Sir Frederick Hamilton lifted their
muskets, and shot down five of the friars. The noise and the smoke
drove away the mystery of the pale altar lights, and the other
troopers took courage and began to strike. In a moment the friars lay
about the altar steps, their white habits stained with blood. 'Set
fire to the house!' cried Sir Frederick Hamilton, and at his word one
went out, and came in again carrying a heap of dry straw, and piled
it against the western wall, and, having done this, fell back, for
the fear of the crucifix and of the holy candles was still in his
heart. Seeing this, the five troopers who were Sir Frederick
Hamilton's body-guard darted forward, and taking each a holy candle
set the straw in a blaze. The red tongues of fire rushed up and
flickered from corbel to corbel and from tablet to tablet, and crept
along the floor, setting in a blaze the seats and benches. The dance
of the shadows passed away, and the dance of the fires began. The
troopers fell back towards the door in the southern wall, and watched
those yellow dancers springing hither and thither.

For a time the altar stood safe and apart in the midst of its white
light; the eyes of the troopers turned upon it. The abbot whom they
had thought dead had risen to his feet and now stood before it with
the crucifix lifted in both hands high above his head. Suddenly he
cried with a loud voice, 'Woe unto all who smite those who dwell
within the Light of the Lord, for they shall wander among the
ungovernable shadows, and follow the ungovernable fires!' And having
so cried he fell on his face dead, and the brazen crucifix rolled
down the steps of the altar. The smoke had now grown very thick, so
that it drove the troopers out into the open air. Before them were
burning houses. Behind them shone the painted windows of the Abbey
filled with