| The two women were bent over pieces of gothic
rock. Laid out in rows were sections of collonnade, fragments of arches, lintels, pavers
and just plain stones. First painting white bars on each one, then numbering them in black
ink, they were obviously archiving the lot. "Looks like a big jigsaw puzzle," I
said. "And some of the pieces are missing," one of them answered. They gave me a
tour. "Look at this face. She’s beautiful, isn’t she, with this long nose
and strong chin, and this interesting headpiece. It probably came from a
sarcophagus." A fragment of archway had two birds on it, one a pelican, one that
looked like a hawk. "Pelicans were mythological, they were thought to feed their
young with fragments of themselves. From the late gothic, when things got really weird.
It’s out of fashion now, but it’s my favorite period." These were two
medieval architecture students. Danielle was the outgoing one, with a twangy Cork accent.
Sarah had a flat, measured Roscommon speech. "There’s nothing like coming upon
one of these sites in the middle of a pasture. There’s a lot of amazing stuff out
there." And they drew on my map directions to a couple of their favorites. One
required wellies and a transit across a bog, but the other was a little known abbey,
Athassel, along the River Suir, a few miles away.
|
It was in a cow pasture off a single track road.
I wandered amid a vast, spreading 13th century complex, with an arched bridge
across a marsh, a gatehouse, a cathedral, a large cloister and various outbuildings. It
was obviously a site of considerable importance and wealth. The buildings were all in a
spectacular state of decay. Some looked more like eroded geologic features. No Duchas
ticket taker, no gravel paths, no interpretive signage, just the raw ruin with a wire to
keep the cattle out.
Doug Plummer
Holycross Abbey, Co. Tipperary |
