It had been long, indeed, since Brian had given thought to his meeting with the Black Woman on the other side of Ireland. In that brief meeting, the Black Woman had spoken of seeing the old earl, his grandfather, in his youth. Yet it was forty years since the two earls, O'Donnell and O'Neill, had fled together from Ireland, and even then Tyr-owen had been an old man. Unless this Black Woman was close on a hundred years of age, Brian could not see how she had known Hugh O'Neill in his youth.
The mere fact that she had recognized him there in the moonlight was proof of her true speaking, however. Brian could no longer hide from himself that her words had some strange prophecy in them. She had foretold his meeting with Cathbarr and with the Bird Daughter, though, indeed, she might have been attempting only to guide him on the path which he had afterward followed.
While the men were saddling, Brian called Turlough and told of the hag's word that she would meet him again "on a black day for him."
"Now, what think you she meant by that, Turlough? Is this the meeting?"
"No, master, for it is no meeting. It may be as you think, and that she was but trying to lead you into the west; yet, for my part, I call it sorcery," and the old man crossed himself, for, like better men than himself, Turlough ascribed all he could not fathom to magic. "It seems to me that she is some witch who is hanging on your tracks, and that when—"
"Oh, nonsense!" laughed Brian, flinging the matter from his mind. "At any rate, she has served me well this time. Now, what rede shall we follow in this matter, and shall we capture and slay the Dark Master first, or fall on his men first, or both together?"
"It is ill to sunder a force of men, master," quoth Turlough. "If those horsemen of O'Donnell's are encamped in a valley two miles to the north, it is a vale of which I know well. But we must mind this—if O'Donnell gets safe into Galway again with either these horsemen or those Millhaven pirates of his clan, he will drive hard against Bertragh."
"The Dark Master shall come no more to Galway," said Brian grimly, fingering his ax. "Now finish, and quickly."
"I have a plan in my mind, master; but unless we slay the Dark Master, it is like to fail us. Let us send a hundred of the men around to the north, for I will tell them how to ride, so that by this night they can fall upon those men of his and scatter them in the darkness, and drive them south where we can slay them utterly at our wills. If we drove them back whence they came, there would be little craft in it, and it is to my liking to do a thing well or not at all."
"A true word there," nodded Brian, his eyes gleaming. "I think those men are as good as dead now, Turlough. Speak on."
"With fifty men, master, you and I can reach the valley of the Dubh Linn. We cannot do it with horses, unless we ride around to the north, and in that there would be danger of striking on the Dark Master's scouts. But while our hundred are circling far around, we with fifty can go over the mountain by valleys and paths I know of, so that by this evening we will come to the Black Tarn and strike the Dark Master as our hundred men fall on his camp. That is my—"
"Good!" cried Brian, leaping up eagerly. "Then we—"
"Hold, master!" And Turlough caught his arm, quickly staying him. When Brian looked down he read a sudden fear in the old man's gray eyes. "That was my first rede, Yellow Brian, and you would do well to hear my second also."
"Say it," said Brian, and glanced at the brightening sky.
"My second rede is this. That message might be a trap to ensnare us, though I have two minds about this Black Woman. But if we fail to slay the Dark Master at the Black Tarn, we are like to have an ill time."
"Why so?" asked Brian, for he could see no likelihood of that. "I said that we would slay him."
"Master, do you hold the lives of men in your keeping?" In the gray eyes leaped a swift horror that amazed Brian. "I tell you that if the Dark Master escapes from our hand, and his men are driven past our fifty into the south, he will ride hard before us into Galway. I see evil in that first rede of mine, Yellow Brian. I see evil in it—"
He broke off, staring past Brian with fixed and unseeing eyes, his face rigid.
"Turlough, are you mad?" Brian seized the other's shoulder, shaking him harshly. The old man shivered a little, and sanity came back into his eyes as they met the icy blue of Brian's. "What daftness is upon you, man?"
"I know not, master," whimpered old Turlough feebly. "Do as you will."
"Then I will to follow your rede, divide my men as you say, and when we have slain the Dark Master, we will cut off the last of these O'Donnells of his, ride to Millhaven and take that hold, and send word to the Bird Daughter that she may keep Bertragh Castle and send Cathbarr north to me. Now go, and tell a hundred of the men how to ride around this mountain; then be ready to guide me over it to the Black Tarn."
"You are a hard man, Yellow Brian," said Turlough, and turned him about and did as Brian had ordered.
None the less, Brian gave some thought to that second rede of Turlough's. He saw clearly enough that with the northern horsemen driven past, scattered though they might be, they could be cut off to a man if the Dark Master were slain. But if O'Donnell should escape by some trick of fate, he could gather up his men and drive south.
"If he does that, there will be slaying between Sligo and Galway," swore Brian quickly. "But I cannot see that he will escape me here. When another day breaks, I shall have won my Spanish blade again—and then ho! for the Red Hand of Tyr-owen!"
So Brian laughed and donned his jack and back-piece, while Turlough drew plans in the snow and showed the leaders of the hundred how to sweep around without discovery so that they might fall on the northern horsemen at eve.
Brian had grown into an older and grimmer man since the day he had stood beside the bed of Owen Ruadh O'Neill, short though the time had been. Youth was still in his face when he smiled out, but suffering had deepened his eyes and sunk his cheeks and drawn the skin tighter over that powerful jaw of his. When he had armed, he stood in thought for a little, with hand on jaw in his instinctive gesture, and wakened suddenly to find old Turlough bending the knee before him.
"Now I know of what blood you come, Yellow Brian," said the old man softly. "I saw Hugh O'Neill, the great earl, standing even as you stand now, on themorning when we slew the English at the Yellow Ford."
"Man, man!" exclaimed Brian in wonder; "that battle was fought fifty years ago, and yet you say that you were there?"
"I was the earl's horse-boy, master." And Brian saw tears on the old man's beard. "I loved him, and I was at the flight of the earls ten years after, going with Tyr-owen to Italy, and it was these hands laid him in his grave, master; master, have faith in me—"
Brian put down his hands to those of Turlough, his heart strangely softened.
"He was my grandfather," he said simply, and Turlough broke down and wept like a child.
When they left their horses and the camp behind, Brian followed Turlough, feeling like a new man. He had lightened his heart of a great load, and he wished that he had talked of these things with Turlough Wolf long before this. Now he understood why the old man had offered him service as he stood in that attitude on the battlements of O'Reilly's castle after leaving Owen Ruadh, and he understood the love that Turlough bore him, and the silence the old man had kept on the matter, though it must have ever been deep in his heart to speak out.
No more words passed between them, nor did Brian tell Turlough more of his story until long after; but of this there was no need. As they climbed higher on the mountain they could see the hundred horsemen filing off to the eastward; but soon these were lost sight of as Turlough led Brian and the fifty through the valleys and deep openings, which were drifted deep in snow, making progress slow and wearisome.
Indeed, Brian thought afterward that this hard traveling might have been responsible for what chanced on the other side of the mountain.
On the higher crests and ridges there was little snow, however, and Turlough seemed to know every inch of the place by heart, though more than once Brian gave himself up for lost in the maze of smaller peaks and the twisted paths they followed. Most of the fifty Turlough had chosen from those hillmen who had joined Brian by Lough Conn, so that they were not unused to such climbing, and remained with spirits unshaken by the vast loneliness that surrounded them, and to which other men might have succumbed somewhat.
Brian himself was no little awed by the desolate grandeur of the Stone Mountain, but he only wrapped his cloak more closely about him, and swore that the Dark Master should yield up the Spanish blade before many more hours.
And so indeed it was done, though not as Brian looked for.
Until long after noon the band wended their way with great toil and pain over the flanks of the mountain, until Turlough led Brian out to a point of black rock and motioned toward the valleys below them.
"There to the left," he said, "is the valley of the Black Tarn. Do you see that smoke, Brian, and that dark spot between the trees and the lake?"
Brian looked, squinting because of the snow-glare. Leading down from the side of the mountain itself was a valley—long, and widening gradually to the plain, where a dark wood swallowed it up. Almost under his feet, as it were, was a small, round lake deep in the rock, with a small, frozen-over outlet that was lost in the snow.
But farther down the valley-slopes there were trees, and among them horses tethered and a fire strewing smoke on the air close beside. Between this little wood and the tarn itself there stood a low house of thatch with smoke also rising from it, and from the other fire among the trees came a sheen of steel caps and jacks, where were men.
But to Brian all these things were very small and hard to make out distinctly, as if he were looking at some carven mimicry, such as children are wont to use in play.
"Now come," said Turlough Wolf. "It is no easy task getting there without being discovered, and the way is long."
Brian found, indeed, that to avoid beingseen from below they must needs take a roundabout way; but when the afternoon was far spent they had come to a snow-filled hollow among the rocks which Turlough declared was just over the edge of that valley-slope where stood the low house. Turlough said that in his day that house had not stood there, and he knew nothing of it.
Since there could be no talk of lighting a fire, Brian's men huddled together in the hollow, and ate and drank cheerlessly. Brian was minded to meet the Dark Master and win his Spanish blade with his own hand, so he ordered that his men pass on after dark and make ready to fall upon those men who were camped at the wood, but to hold off until he and Turlough had smitten the Dark Master in that little thatched house, where he was most like to be found. Turlough yeasaid this plan, for he trusted greatly to Brian's strength.
At length they set out under the cold stars, and Brian's men were very weary, but promised to do all as he had commanded. He and Turlough set off alone over the hill, and when they had come to the hill-crest after much toiling through the snow they looked down and found the house a hundred yards below them.
"Let us go down cautiously," said Turlough, "for I think we can peer through the thatch and plan our stroke well."
So they struck down openly across the hill-slope, and found that there was none on guard. The door of the house was fast shut, but Turlough strode cautiously in the trampled snow around the house, where, at the side, a spark of firelight glittered through the loose thatch. To this he led Brian, and Brian stooped down and looked through the cranny, while Turlough went farther and fared as well.
There was but one room in the hut, and it was well lighted by the fire that glittered merrily on the hearth. Sitting not far away, but with his back to Brian, was a man; he sat on a stool, and there seemed to be a wide earthenware bowl of water or some dark liquid on the floor between his feet into which he was staring. In his bent-down position his rounded shoulders stood up stark against the fire, and Brian knew this was the Dark Master.
His hand went to the pistol in his belt, but since there was no other man in the hut, he thought it shame to murder O'Donnell as he sat, and made up his mind to go around to the door and burst in. He saw his own great sword slung across the Dark Master's back, but even as he stirred to rise, O'Donnell's voice came to him, low and vibrant, so that he bode where he was and listened.
"I cannot make out the figures," muttered the Dark Master, still staring down into the bowl of dark water. "The man has the face of Yellow Brian, yet he is swart; the woman I sure never saw before.Corp na diaoul!What is the meaning of this? Who stands in my way?"
Brian paused in no little astonishment, and stole a glance aside to see old Turlough crossing himself fervently. It struck his mind that he had chanced on some sorcery here, and, remembering the tales he had heard of the Dark Master's work, he laughed a little and settled down. He was minded to see what this thing might be; but he made his pistol ready in case the magic told O'Donnell of his danger.
"It is some great man," came the Dark Master's voice again. "There is something broidered on his— By my soul, it is the Red Hand of Tyr-owen! It is The O'Neill himself—the earl— Is Yellow Brian of his blood, then?"
At hearing this Brian crouched closer, in some fear and more wonder. Was the Dark Master in reality seeing such figures in that water-bowl? Then the man must be either mad or—or figures were there. Now O'Donnell's voice rose stronger:
"Which of these twain stands now in my way? It is not Yellow Brian. Ah, the earl is slipping away, and the woman is smiling. One of his loves, belike, for he had many; she is fair, wondrous fair! Ah, what's this?"
Brian saw the dark figure crouch lower, as if in astonishment.
"Changing, changing! Is it this woman who stands in my way, then? Toothless and grinning, crouched low over a stick, rags and tatters and wisps of gray hair—"
The Dark Master paused in his jerky speech, stiffened as if in wild amazement at that which he beheld, and a sudden cry broke from him, sharp and awestruck:
"The Black Woman!"
Then Brian straightened up, feeling Turlough's hand touch his; but for a space he stood silent while his mind cast out for what the Dark Master's words meant.
In a flash it came to him. Through some black dealings O'Donnell had in truth pictured The O'Neill in that bowl, and with him a woman he had loved and who loved him; and this was no other than she whom Brian had known as the Black Woman, now become an old hag indeed, with only the memories of her fair youth and her love behind her. And this was why she had recognized him and why she had evidently watched over him since that first meeting, out of the love she had borne the earl, his grandsire, in days now buried under many bitter years.
The two men looked into each other's eyes, and Brian saw that Turlough's jaw had dropped loosely, and that fright had stricken the old man almost out of his senses. With that Brian felt his own fear take wings. He laughed a little as his grip closed on the haft of his ax, and the cold star-glint seemed to shine back again from his eyes.
"Bide here if you will," he smiled quietly. "I have my work to do."
And, turning with the word, he strode quickly to the door, just as there came a great cry from within the place.
Brian pushed the door open, and it gave easily to his fist. Gazing within he saw the Dark Master standing over the shattered bowl, whose liquid flowed down toward the hearth and hissed on the embers; plainly, the Dark Master had seen nothing good in that water, for he had shattered the bowl with his foot, and his teeth were snarling under his drooping mustache.
"I am come," said Brian, laughing grimly as he stood in the doorway.
O'Donnell whirled, gripping at his sword.
Now, whether there was magic on the place, as Turlough ever swore, or whether the opening of the door had made a draft, as Brian thought more likely, a strange thing happened.
Brian had raised his pistol in his left hand, meaning to kill the Dark Master without pity in that first moment. Out of the hearth came a great swirl of ashes and red embers, flying toward the door and closing around O'Donnell; as Brian pressed the trigger the ashes smote him in a blinding swirl, and a harsh laugh answered the roar of the pistol.
With a curse Brian cleared his eyes of the light ash and reached with his ax at the dim figure of the Dark Master, nigh hid with ashes and powder-smoke. From down the vale came other shots and cries, and he knew his men had struck on that small camp lying there; but at this O'Donnell gave him other things to think of.
That was a great fight, for Brian was little used to ax-play and had much ado to parry the keen thrusts of his own Spanish blade; the roof was too low to give room for a swing, and when the Dark Master had lunged him back to the door again, he knew that he had done ill. So with another bitter curse Brian flung the ax from his hand and ripped out the long, Irish dagger that hung at his girdle.
For all his wrath he had taken good heed to fling the ax aright, and the broad flat of it took the Dark Master full in the chest and bore him back, reeling and shouting for his men. Before he could recover Brian leaped at him, caught O'Donnell's sword wrist in his left hand, and aimed a deadly stroke with hisskean.
The blow went true, but the steel turned aside from the Dark Master's mail-shirt; O'Donnell caught his wrist in turn, and there the two stood heaving each at the other for a long minute. Brian's eyes struck cold and hard into the evil features of the Dark Master; the other's breath came hot on his cheeks, and so beastlike was the man's face that Brian half expected those snarling teeth to close snapping at his throat. But the Dark Master was strong, for all his hunched shoulders.
Then a great flame of vengeance seemed to cleave Brian's soul, and with a curt laugh he threw out his strength and flung the Dark Master back bodily so that he fell into the hearth and burst the mud chimney and the thatched wall behind. Before he could rise again Brian had whipped out his other pistol and fired; he saw the man's figure writhe aside, then up through the powder-smoke rose a burning brand that smote him over the brow heavily. At the same instant the scattered sparks caught the thatch, and the whole house broke into flame.
Brian's eyes found the dark figure once more and he rushed forward. At the broken heap of mud from the chimney his feet struck on the sword, which had fallen from the Dark Master's hand, and he caught it up with a cry of joy and bore forward.
That brief instant of delay lost him his quarry, however. Brian flung through the shattered wall, with the whole structure flaming up behind him; he saw a dark figure on the snow and ran at it, only to find himself striking at Turlough Wolf, and stayed his hand barely in time.
"Where is he?" he panted hoarsely, looking around with fierce eyes.
Then he caught the Dark Master's figure running across the snow toward that camp amid the trees, where fighting was still forward and men were shouting and firing. Brian rushed off, with Turlough staggering after him; but with a sob of despairing anger he saw the Dark Master flit into the trees, and heard his voice ringing at his men.
It turned out afterward that Brian's fifty men, weary and chilled, had made a somewhat heartless assault on the score of horsemen camped in the trees; therefore, instead of carrying O'Donnell's men off their feet and cutting them down straightway, they were held off for a little.
The Dark Master knew that he was lost if he stayed long in that place, however, and when Brian reached the clump of trees he found that he was too late. With two or three men behind him, O'Donnell had cut through Brian's men and was galloping away. Brian groaned savagely, leaped at a mounted man and dragged him from the saddle, and was just springing up when Turlough caught and stayed him.
"Wait, master!" panted the old man in desperate fear of the surging men around him, but in more desperate fear for Brian. "This is madness, for I ordered our fifty horses fetched around—"
"Bide here for them, then!" said Brian, and swung up into the saddle. One of the Dark Master's men barred his way, and Brian's blade went through his throat; then he was off after the four figures who by now were far distant toward the dark forest that swallowed up the valley ahead.
The cold night air cleared his brain, however, and after a moment he drew rein with bitterness upon him. Turlough had spoken rightly, for to ride after those four men with his naked sword alone was in truth madness. So he came back again to where the last of the hemmed-in horsemen was being cut out of his saddle, and when his men gathered about him with a shout, his tongue gave them little joy.
"You are fools," he said harshly, "for the Dark Master has escaped us. Take these horses, fifteen of you, and ride. Let five men go to bring in our horses with all speed, and let ten more scatter out in search of our hundred men. These are not more than two miles distant, and in an hour I must ride from here. See to it that you return with themen and horses by then, or shift for yourselves."
"That is too much," spoke out a burly fellow angrily. "We have been climbing all day, and have——"
Brian said no word, but leaned down from his saddle and his Spanish blade flickered in the light. The man fell and lay quiet, while the others drew back in black fear.
"I am master here," said Brian coldly, when a long instant had passed. "Go."
There was no more muttering among his recruits, either then or later. He dismounted, saw that the O'Donnells had been slain to the last man, and joined Turlough at the campfire. Food and drink had been found in the camp, and a flagon of wine heartened Brian greatly.
"Now give me your rede, Turlough Wolf," he said. "I have failed in this matter, and it seems that ill shall come of it."
"So I foretold, master, but we may still remedy the ill if we catch O'Donnell. I think that by now his horsemen are scattered, and this burning hut will draw our own men thither. Before midnight they will be here, and we can ride forth. I think that the Dark Master will gather what men are left him and strike down for Galway."
"Two men may ride the same road," quoth Brian grimly, and set his naked blade in his belt. He saw that before him lay some fighting and much hard riding, so inside the next hour he had his men full-fed. Before this was finished the spare horses and those of his men came in, for Turlough had ordered them to start at noon and ride around in case of need.
Brian determined to spare neither men nor horseflesh on that riding, and when his men were mounted he set out across the night to meet his hundred, and to hear what had been done at the camp two miles distant. As the moon was rising he met them; and if he was glad at the meeting, they were twice glad.
They had found the camp and had lain off it until after dark as Turlough had bidden them, the more so since there were two-score over a hundred men there. But at length they had ridden down as if they were fresh come from the north, and had twice ridden through the camp before the O'Donnells were well awake, though it had been sharp work. The result had been that a score of Brian's men had fallen, they had slain a full half of the O'Donnells, and the rest had been driven and scattered southward. Brian's men had plundered their camp and were weary, so that when they heard of what had chanced at the Black Tarn they were somewhat less than half willing to ride farther.
But Brian speedily persuaded them to that course, and Turlough led them all to the south on the way to Sligo.
Bitterness and heaviness of heart dwelt deep in Brian that night, and for some time to come. With the escape of the Dark Master, whether it had been by magic or craft, all his visions had burst; he must ride away from the pirate hold at Millhaven, he saw that he would lose many men on his way south, and yet there lay no choice before him. He had scotched the snake, and now he must kill it. If the Dark Master reached Galway town in safety, those O'Donnells from Millhaven would be around by sea to meet him, and the royalists would lend him men and guns to go against Bertragh in their cause.
"Is there any likelihood that the Dark Master will miss those scattered men of his?" he asked Turlough, who rode on his right hand.
"Little, master. There is but the one road south to Sligo at this season, and it is great wonder indeed that the scattered men did not fall on us at the Black Tarn in seeking their master. But with only seventy-five men or so I do not think they will bide our coming."
"Nor do I," and Brian laughed grimly as he thought of that fight with his enemy.
Certain men had been wounded inthose frays, and he left them to follow after him, so that he turned south with a hundred and a score men at his back. He did not think that the Dark Master would face him, but since those men were all O'Donnells who would obey him utterly, he looked to have some fighting; in which he was not far wrong.
An hour after the day was broken they thundered up to the bridge that spanned the Garravogue, and ten wild and silent men were holding that bridge behind an overturned cart for barricade. Brian would waste no men on a storm, but slew six of the men with musketry and rode over the other four; even so, those four brought down three of his men before they were done with.
Brian baited the horses in Sligo, remaining there a scant half-hour. From the townfolk he learned that the Dark Master was but two hours ahead of him, and Brian had great hopes of running him to earth that same day. So he set forth again and they rode hard to Ballsadare, at the south branch of Sligo Bay, and on to Coolany at the edge of the Storm Mountains.
At this latter place they found different work, however, for here was a small garrison of Cavan pikemen who stopped them, lined with their pikes three deep across the road before the church. Brian was no long time in learning that the Dark Master had spread word of him as a plunderer and Parliament man.
"I have no time to waste on you," he said shortly to the leader of the pikemen. "Here is a safe-conduct, and I am Stephen Burke."
"None the less, you must stay until I have looked into this," said the other, pulling out his pistol with some determination.
"Stay I will not, but I think you shall," replied Brian, and thrust as the man fired. The bullet glanced from his jack, but the officer fell back among his pikes, and Brian spurred after him in great anger. His Scots troopers were in the van, or what was left of them, and they came down galloping, and rode over the pikemen leaving a sea of smitten men in the roadway behind.
Also, ten of Brian's men were left.
By the evening they were back at Tobercurry again, where Turlough had hung those two men after torturing them. The Dark Master was something over an hour ahead of them, and he had stayed to fire the church and the town. Brian's heart was sore for the townfolk, but he could pause no longer than to bait horses and men, since he looked for hard riding that night; however, he gave what money and plunder he had to the townfolk and got a blessing in return, and so rode forth again as the stars peeped out.
"There are Maguires in Swineford, master," said old Turlough with a cunning, sidelong look.
"I met them coming north," laughed Brian softly. "They will prove good men to avoid, so I think that we shall ride around that burg."
Brian thought that he could get through the Maguires, but he intended to take no chances. However, they had gained to within five miles of Swineford and had halted to blow the horses, when one of the scouts came riding back to say that a score of farmers with three carts were approaching from the town.
Presently they came on them—a black mass swinging down the road, which was very boggy on either hand. Neither Brian nor Turlough smelt any ill in this until they were within a hundred paces of the party, when suddenly the carts were swung across the road and a score of muskets spat death into Brian's men.
"Back!" shouted Brian, when his men would have charged. "We have no time and lives to waste on this party—what shall we do, Turlough? The fields are all bog."
"We cannot well ride around," said Turlough, when they had ridden back a little, leaving dead men on the road. "But a little way back is a path thatleads out and around Swineford. Put ten men here to keep these O'Donnells from following us, and we will make a short cut to the Moy near Kiltanmugh. It was a clever trick, this!"
It was indeed, and it had cost Brian a round score of men, so that he followed Turlough out into the open land with less than a hundred men behind him. His fury abated before dawn, when they had splashed across the Moy and came upon the road once more, but he saw that the O'Donnells were willing enough to die if the Dark Master might escape, and he became more cautious.
When the night fell again they were far south of Claremorris, but a score of horses had foundered and he was forced to leave more men behind. Until evening Turlough led him at a distance from the main roads, then they struck into good riding again and save for one detour to avoid Tuam would have a clear road between themselves and Galway, which Brian meant to reach before dawn unless his own horse foundered with the rest.
Of the Dark Master they heard nothing until they were fording the Clare north of Tuam, when two men gave them word that a scant half-hour before some two-score horsemen had fled past them toward Tuam.
"Good!" cried Brian. "Now, Turlough, lead us around Tuam, and I think we shall finish this thing long before the day comes."
Said Turlough sourly, "Every horse down is a man gone, master," but to that Brian only laughed and set in his spurs.
So now they let gallop through the darkness, trusting more to Turlough's wits than to their horses' feet; for Brian knew that if his own beasts were spent, those of the Dark Master were no better unless he were to get mounts at Tuam. That would be hard, however, for there were no horses to be had save far in the mountains where the war had not swept all things away.
No sooner had they reached the road again beyond Tuam than it seemed to Brian that he heard the faint drum of hoofs ahead of him, and at that he gave a shout and drove on with such of his men storming behind as might come. Many of them had gone down, indeed, but now all wakened from their nodding sleep and kept close, though here and there one dropped out. Turlough, whose steed had been the best of all save Brian's, kept at his master's flank.
They were hard on Claregalway when Brian saw his quarry first—a deep mass of men far ahead on an open stretch of road. Then he knew that the race was nearly won, and for all that his beast was sobbing under his thighs, he raced ahead, and laughed out loud when a little band cut off from the main body of the Dark Master's men. There were fifteen or less who waited his coming with pistols ready, but Brian rode hardily at them, their balls whistled overhead or past, and he was on them.
The shock of the meeting came near to unseating him, and sent one of the foe sprawling, horse and man; Brian cut another to the chin and thrust the life from a third, and before the first sword had slithered on his steel-cap his men had swept aside the devoted fifteen, and he was riding on. O'Donnell had straightened his party for nothing.
Now the Dark Master was riding for his life, and knew it. Some few of his men fell out with spent beasts, and these Brian's party rode over, taking and giving but one blow, or none at all. When Claregalway drew up ahead, cold and gray under the stars, Brian was but two hundred yards behind with forty men still behind him, while O'Donnell had not half so many.
As he thundered down to the river Brian had drawn as much ahead of Turlough and the others as he was behind the Dark Master. He shouted back to those of his men whose matches were lit to loose off their muskets, but before the first pan had flashed out he saw the O'Donnells draw rein and wheel at thebridge-head, while two of their number drove clattering on into the town.
Now, had Brian chosen to wait for his men things would have fallen out differently; but this he would not do, for he thought to break through these as he had done with the others. So he went at them with naked sword, his heart raging within him and his face set and cold like stone. He was still fifty paces from the bridge-head when their pistols spattered out; the men behind dared not fire for fear of hitting him, so that Brian had all the fight for himself.
He came near to having none, for at that first discharge a pistol-ball split his jack and lodged in his buff-coat over his heart, while another came between his arm and his side, drawing blood a little from both; while a third and worse went into his horse between the fore shoulders. Brian felt the poor beast falter shudderingly, and pause; then the O'Donnells shouted greatly and closed about him, thinking to slay him before his men could come up.
Brian saw a longskeanplunge into his horse's neck, and in terrible anger he smote with the edge, so that a hand and arm hung down from the dagger, a ghastly thing to see. But the poor steed was dead with that blow, and Brian had but time to fling himself headlong ere the horse rolled over.
The leap saved his life, for the O'Donnells were striking fast at him. Brian rose up between two of them, dragged one down with his left hand and thrust the other under the arm, and tried to leap up into the saddle. But as he did so his own men struck, so that the horses were swept together and pinned Brian's legs between them, and he hung helpless.
In that instant he saw an ax swinging above him and flung back his head, but not enough, for the ax fell, and Brian went down under the horses.
Save for three of his men who saw the thing and stood over him, Brian would have been trampled to death on the spot. These O'Donnells were no loose fighting-men, and they smote shrewdly against the press of Brian's greater numbers, while their wild cry rose high over the shrill of steel. When Brian's men knew that he was down, however, they struck such blows as they knew not they had in them, and quarter was not asked or offered in that battle by the bridge.
The fight was not ended until the last O'Donnell went down in a swirl and clash of steel. Then Turlough, who had kept well out of it according to his wont, pushed through and fell upon Brian's body. When Brian opened his eyes his head was still ringing, while his men were bathing him with water. After an instant he sat up and gazed around.
"The Dark Master—did you catch him?"
"Nay, our thought was all for you, master," answered Turlough.
Brian groaned in great bitterness, but said no word. He knew that his chance was gone from him for that time, and as he looked around his heart sank within him. Half of his men had slipped down and lay sleeping among the dead, and the rest could scarce stay in their saddles for weariness and lack of sleep. But Turlough sprang up and gazed at the graying sky with fear in his face.
"Up, master!" he cried fiercely. "We must still ride hard, for the Dark Master will send out a troop of horse from Galway to catch us, and we must get past that town before the sun is high!"
So the sleeping were roused in haste, the wounded were put in saddle, and with their beasts staggering under them, those that were left of Brian's men closed around him and rode over the bridge through Claregalway.
Above the head of Bertraghboy Bay there was a swooping curve in the hill road. It was at this same curve that Brian Buidh had first metthe Dark Master, and it was here he had set that trap which had won him tribute for the Bird Daughter. When first he had ridden that road Brian had had a score of lusty men at his back; on the second occasion he had headed a hundred and four-score; but when he drew rein there a week after that fight at Claregalway bridge there was with him only old Turlough Wolf, and their horses were sorry skeletons like themselves.
"We are somewhat worse than when we twain started out together," laughed Brian bitterly. "Then we had full bellies at the least, but now we have naught."
"There are men coming, master," said Turlough, hanging weakly to his saddle. "I think they are our castle watchers."
Very gaunt was Brian that day, and nigh spent with his wounds and hunger and weariness. During the week that had passed since the Dark Master slipped away from him, nothing but evil had come upon him.
First they had tried to slip past to the north of the city, and had reached the Lough Corrib River, and could even faintly hear the bells of St. Nicholas below, when a half-troop of horse fell upon them. Then in desperation Brian's men smote for the last time, and put the royalists to flight; but there Brian lost the most of his men. However, he got fresh horses, and so fled eastward again when more men were seen approaching.
What chanced in the six days following is not fully set forth, for Brian got little glory from it. One by one he lost his men, and at length was forced north again to the shores of Lough Corrib, with men riding hot and fast to catch him. With Turlough Wolf alone left to him, he had made shift to cross the lake in a leaky fisherman's boat, the horses swimming behind, and so came into the O'Flahertys' country.
There word had also gone forth against him, but because of the pact between them, Murrough of the Kine sped him in peace through Iar Connaught, and at length Brian had won home again with joyless heart.
As Turlough said, men were coming, and they were Brian's own men who watched the roads. From them he got food and wine and two fresh horses, and with the afternoon they rode down to Bertragh in worse shape than they had ridden from it. Brian was the less heartened when he saw two of Nuala O'Malley's ships in the bay, and knew that she must be at the castle.
Indeed, before they reached the gates the Bird Daughter rode out to meet them, with Cathbarr striding before her. When the woman saw Brian's face her violet eyes filled with tears, and when he dismounted and kissed her hand and would have spoken, she stayed him.
"Nay, we know enough of the story for now, Brian. First rest and eat, then talk."
Brian guessed straightway that pigeons had come from her men in Galway telling of those ridings about the city, and that she had come over to Bertragh in anxiety; and this was the truth indeed.
Turlough Wolf hied him away and slept, but Brian sat about a table in the hall with Cathbarr and Nuala. He was very worn and weary, but when he had eaten and drunk he refused to sleep yet a while, and told how that storm had fared north and what had come of it.
"So I have lost a hundred and fifty hard-won men," he concluded gloomily. "I would not grudge them if the Dark Master had fallen, but he is in Galway, and the Millhaven pirates will be down to meet him, and that means war on Bertragh."
"I will be glad of that," said Cathbarr simply. "I am sound again and have been sharpening up this ax of mine."
Nuala smiled and put her hand across the table to lay it on Brian's.
"Success would be of little worth, Yellow Brian," she said softly, and her eyes steadied him, "if it were won without reverses. Few men have the luck to win always, and a touch of defeat is not an ill thing, perhaps. When we had this news of you from Galway, a week since, I sent off a galley to find Blake at the Cove of Cork and seek aid of him. Also my kinsmen will return to Gorumna before going home to Erris, and we are not in hard case here. So now get rested, Brian Buidh, and afterward we will see what may be done. Those Millhaven men have not yet passed Erris, or I would have word of it by pigeon, so they have doubtless delayed to plunder in Sligo or Killala."
Brian looked into her eyes, and from that moment he began to put behind him all thoughts of capturing that Millhaven castle for himself or of placing himself out of touch with Nuala O'Malley. He went to his chamber as she bade, and slept that night and the next day and the night after, waking on the second morning still empty of sleep and seeming more weary than when he had laid down.
This was but seeming, however, and when he had bathed and eaten he felt more like himself than for many a day.
Cathbarr had departed at dawn with a wagon-load of powder to trade for kine with his O'Flaherty kinsmen in the hills, and before Brian had broken his fast one of the galleys from Gorumna came over with three pigeons for Nuala. The cage was brought to her as she sat at meat with Brian in the hall, and she opened the tiny messages with all the delighted anticipation of a girl.
"This is from that galley I sent to Cork," she exclaimed, laying down the first. "It merely reports safe arrival and the delivery of my letter to Blake, who is leaving there before long. Now for the—ah!"
"Good news or bad?" smiled Brian easily, as animation flashed into her face. She looked up at him with a rippling laugh.
"Both, Brian! This is from Erris, and says that the O'Donnell seamen have made a landing at Ballycastle under Downpatrick Head, and will likely put to sea again in a day or two. They will give Erris a wide berth, never fear, and that means that they will make no pause until they come to Galway."
The third message was from Galway itself, and said that the Dark Master was biding the coming of those Millhaven men, and had been promised both horsemen and shot if they came, so that Bertragh might be taken and held for Ireland against the Parliament.
"It is not taken yet," laughed Nuala as old Turlough came shuffling up, and they gave him the sele of the day merrily enough. "You had best keep these birds, Brian, so that if there is any need you may send me messages to Gorumna. Now, shall we bide here until the Dark Master comes against us?"
"I thought you were going to take me cruising with you?" smiled Brian, but at that Turlough struck in and asked what the messages were. When he had heard them he stood pulling at his gray beard for a little, then turned to Brian.
"How is your body, master?"
"Well enough," said Brian, feeling his head. "Save for this beard, which now I may not cut for a time."
He intended to abide by that oath of his, and so his beard was growing out and his hair as well, of which latter he was glad.
Since he had ever kept his face clean shaven, however, the beard was not to his liking. He was quite unaware that it built out his face greatly and made him grimmer-looking than before, and yet so young were his blue eyes except when he was in anger that it was not hard for Nuala to believe that he was only two years older than herself.
None the less, she made great sport of his beard, saying that it curled at the end like a drake's tail, as indeed it did; and as Brian only repaid her laughter with the open wonder and admiration that he held for her, there was great good-comradeship between them.
"There is still one chance for stopping the Dark Master," said Turlough thoughtfully. "If we cut off those pirate ships on their way south he is not like to get much help from Galway."
"Oh—and I never thought of it!" cried Nuala, staring at him.
Turlough chuckled. "That was spoken like a woman, mistress! If the rede seems good we could lay aboard men from here for fighting, and sail out with those two ships of yours."
Now Brian's heart filled with new hope, and after no long discussion they decided to adopt the plan. Nuala was of the opinion that a short cruise would do Brian great good, so they decided to set off that evening in her two ships, leaving Turlough to keep the castle against Cathbarr's return.
Had they taken Turlough Wolf with them or had Brian been less close-mouthed on his return from that cruise, the evil that befell might have been averted. The old man was cunning and swift at piercing beneath the craft of other men and turning it back upon themselves; but as Brian's mind lost its bitterness at his own failure it gained joy at being with the Bird Daughter, while Nuala had no less friendship and liking for him, so that neither of them gave much thought to O'Donnell Dubh who lay in Galway and bided his time after his own fashion.
Once having reached their decision, they hastened it somewhat and sent men and muskets aboard the two ships at noon. Nuala wished to sail first to Gorumna Castle and make all safe there, then reach back for Slyne Head. She proposed that Brian take one carack and she the other, but at this Brian laughed.
"No, lady—I am no seaman, and I am your guest on this cruise, so I go with you."
"Well, you shall have good guesting," she answered, flushing a little, but her eyes not flinching from his, and so they went aboard her ship together.
Having two hundred men still, Brian had put fifty on each ship in case they met with those pirates, who were like to give good battle. Also Turlough had hopes that many of Brian's men would win home from that riding of his yet, since a large part of them had dropped out by the way or had been left behind with wounds. And in the end, indeed, fifty or less did find their way back.
Before night they made Gorumna Castle, and Brian found why they had come here first. With her Kerry recruits, Nuala had a hundred and eighty men, so she had set to work to build a tower and small keep on the opposite island, that Gorumna itself might be more easily defended. Also she had taken some falconets and two bastards out of a large French ship, and had set about building a battery outside the castle that would overlook the harbor.
"That will be better than good when it is done," said Brian approvingly. "But you had best get it done speedily. When we come back from this cruise you shall take this hundred men of mine, for I will not need them until the Dark Master comes, and of that we shall have good warning."
This she was glad of, and she was glad because Brian had found her work well planned; nor did either of them suspect what grief that loan of a hundred men was to bring upon Brian.
They paused only to sup at Gorumna, then set forth again, and by dawn were off Slyne Head with a light breeze behind them. Nuala would take no chance of missing those Millhaven men, so instead of going north among the islands she turned her ships and beat off Slyne all that day, seeing no sail save fishing-craft.
Those were pleasant hours for Brian, for the sea was fair and he had naught to do but sit with the Bird Daughter. He found himself drawn ever closer to her, admiring her wit and fairness as he did, and he fancied that she was by no means unwilling to talk with him andopen her mind as she did to few men. Yet he remembered that he was no more than her vassal, a landless man in truth.
That night the two caracks separated, standing well off the land and keeping good watch, but no sign did they catch of the O'Donnell pirates. Toward morning a stiff wind came upon them from the west, and Brian's men, being all landsmen, got no great joy out of that cruise.
"This wind is like to hold," said Nuala, laughing as she stood on the poop with Brian that morning and watched the decks. "I am afraid that we might as well give over this attempt, Brian. Your men will be in no shape to fight. What think you?"
"Right," nodded Brian slowly, for he saw that those men of his were worse than useless with their sickness.
So they turned about and drove before the wind, but before ever they had got past Slyne Head the men aloft descried a sail to the south that seemed like a large galley. Nuala signaled the other carack to bear down with her, and presently they made out that it was a large sailing galley, which headed straight for them.
"That is none of my ships," exclaimed Nuala, watching. "It seems strange that she does not flee before us, Brian. She bears no ensign, yet she must be from these parts, and would naturally have some fear of pirates."
Brian looked at her rather than the ship, and thought her a fine picture, with her body swinging a little to the sway of the deck and the wind blowing her red cloak around her. The galley came straight for them as if seeking speech, however, and when a falconet was fired from the carack without charge, she lowered her sail and put out her sweeps, coming straight for them.
Nuala sped a word to her sailing-master, and the men let down the sails with shouting and great creaking of ropes. The Bird Daughter stood under the high poop bulwark, and now she turned to Brian.
"Do you speak with them and find their business, for it seems to me that all is not as it should be, and they would likely know me too well."
Brian nodded, and when the galley had come under their lee he saw that she was well laden, and had for crew a dozen rough-looking men. One of these replied to his hail.
"We are come from Galway, lord, with a gift of stores and wines from O'Donnell Dubh to certain friends of his whom we came to meet. Are you those friends, as we think?"
Brian started in surprise, but needed no word from Nuala. He saw that the Dark Master must have sent this galley out to meet the Millhaven men, and that the crew had taken the two caracks for those pirate ships.
"We are the O'Donnells from Millhaven," he shouted, and ordered the seaman to cast down ropes to the galley. Her master, a stout man with bushy black beard, waved a hand in reply, and after another moment the two craft ground together. The master of the galley got aboard over the low waist of the carack, and Brian ordered a dozen of his own green-faced men down into the smaller ship. At this the galley's master stared somewhat, but came up to the poop.
"Lord, O'Donnell sends you these stores with a message. I am Con Teague of Galway."
"Let us have it," ordered Brian, liking the looks of the man not at all.
"He bade us say that he was leaving Galway to-morrow at dawn with a force of men, and that you should meet him at Bertragh Castle and fall on that place to take it."
"That is good," laughed Brian. "Now learn that you have found the wrong ships, my man. We are not the Millhaven pirates, but I am Brian Buidh, who holds Bertragh; and here is the Lady Nuala, for whom I hold it."
At that Nuala came forward, and Teague looked greatly astonished, as wellhe might, and all the Bird Daughter's men fell roaring with laughter. But he could make no resistance, and stood chapfallen while Brian talked with Nuala.
"I must back to the Castle," he said, "and see if this news be true. Do you go on to Gorumna with my men, and I will let loose a pigeon to you. If the Dark Master is indeed on the way, then come with all the men you can spare, and it will go hard if we do not best his royalists, and the pirates later when the latter come."
This was clearly the best plan, so Brian sent Teague down into the galley and followed him, as the light ship was faster than the caracks. Replacing half of Teague's men with O'Malleys, he had the ropes cast off, waved his hand at Nuala, and they drove to the eastward and Bertragh Castle.
Teague made so much moan over losing his ship that Brian promised it back to him when they had reached the castle; the stores and wine, however, he accounted good spoils of war. This put the seaman in better mood, and by noon the fast galley had covered the twenty miles to Bertragh, and cast down her anchor in the little bay beyond the castle, that same bay where Brian had come to grief through O'Donnell's sorcery.
The men crowded down to meet him joyfully, and Brian found that Cathbarr had come home safe with his beeves and was hungry for fight. No sign had been heard of the Dark Master along the roads, however, so Brian set Turlough in charge of getting the stores and wine-casks off the galley, and fell to work putting the castle in shape for defense.
Since there was no need of loosing a pigeon until word came that the Dark Master was actually on the way, he sent out men to have a beacon built on the hills at the bay's head as soon as the enemy was sighted. What with seeing that the bastards and other shot were cleaned and loaded, and stationing his hundred men to the best advantage, he found that the afternoon soon wore away.
"Those are good wines," said Turlough when they sat at meat that evening, the men eating below in the courtyard around fires. "But I do not like that ship-master."
So far Brian had said nothing of how the galley had been taken, save that they had chanced on it at sea and had heard from Teague that the Dark Master might be on them in another day. As for the O'Malleys, they kept to themselves and talked not at all, so that neither Turlough nor Cathbarr had heard the way of that capture.
"Is she unladen?" asked Brian.
"All save a few barrels. That ship-master was so eager to be off," grunted old Turlough spitefully, "that I stayed the work and put a guard on the galley until morning."
"Give the men a cask of the best wine," ordered Brian shortly.
Having taken upon himself the duties of seneschal, Turlough departed grumbling. While he was gone, Brian's tongue was a little loosened with wine, so that he told Cathbarr of how he had taken the galley, at which the giant bellowed with laughter. Presently from the courtyard came shouting and singing, and Turlough appeared with a beaker of wine.
"The men like it well enough," he said, "yet to me it seems soured. Taste it, Brian; if it be so, then you have made a poor haul on that cruise."
Brian sipped the wine, and in truth it seemed to have soured. Cathbarr made little of that, and would have drunken it except that his clumsy hand knocked it from the table and emptied it all. But as it happened, that mischance saved his life.
A little after, Brian pulled out a Spanish pipe he had got that day from one of the O'Malleys, with some tobacco, and began puffing in great good-humor, for it was long since he had tasted tobacco. Cathbarr watched in awe, neverhaving seen this done before, so that Brian and Turlough had great fun with him. All his life the giant had lived in the mountains and he knew no more than his ax had taught him; though he had seen men smoke before, he had ever accounted it sorcery of some kind, nor could Brian get him to as much as touch the pipe with his finger.
Brian was sorry that the wine had proved sour; the butts were huge ones, and he had counted on their lasting him and his men all the winter through. However, he dismissed the matter from his mind and fell to talking with Turlough and Cathbarr over their arrangements in case of an attack. In the midst, one of the men who had been watching from the tower ran in to say that he had caught sight of a beacon on the hills, which meant that the arch-enemy was on the road.
"Good!" exclaimed Brian, springing up. "Turlough, go fetch me that cage of pigeons. Cathbarr, see that the men are set on the walls—"
He had got no further than this when there came a strange noise from the doorway. Turning, he saw a man staggering forward, choking as he came, and recognized him as one of the Bird Daughter's seamen. The fellow held a bloody sword in his hand.
"What's this?" cried Brian angrily, noting that there was silence upon the court-yard. "Has there been wrangling again—"
"Death!" coughed the O'Malley, staring at him with starting, terrible eyes. "Con Teague—I slew him—too—too late—"
"Man, what is forward?" Brian leaped out and caught the seaman in his arms, for the fellow's head was rolling on his shoulders.
"Death!" whispered the man again. "They are—all dead—"
His head fell back in death, and the sword fell from his hand with a clatter. But from Cathbarr, who had gone to the doorway, came one terrible shout of grief and rage.
"Brian! Our men lie dead—"
"I think the Dark Master has sent us a kindly gift," quoth Turlough Wolf, as Brian rose with horror in his face and let the seaman's body fall. "Now I know why that wine was sour, master!"