Early the next morning a horseman came riding fast from Cathbarr with word that the garrison was stirring. Without delay, Brian donned a mail-shirt, bound his useless left arm to his side, and mounted. The Bird Daughter insisted on accompanying him, and stilled his dismayed protests by asserting her feudal superiority; in the end she had her way.

Leaving her kinsmen and a hundred more men to dispute O'Donnell's passage and give back slowly before him with Cathbarr, she and Brian rode to their men among the trees on the hillsides over the hollow in the road. Here they had a hundred and fifty men, composed of the Scots troopers and the pick of the others, and Nuala took one side of the road while Brian took the other. Then, being well hidden, they waited.

Brian was savagely determined to slay the Dark Master that day, and came near to doing it. Presently a man galloped up to say that O'Donnell and six hundred men were on the road, having left the rest to hold the castle. A little later Cathbarr's retreating force came in sight, and after them marched O'Donnell. He had deployed his muskets in front and rear, and rode in the midst of his pikemen, whose banner of England blew out bravely in the morning wind.

At the edge of the dip in the road Cathbarr led his men in full flight down the hollow and up the farther rise, where he halted as if to dispute the Dark Master further. There were barely a dozen mounted men with O'Donnell, and he made no pursuit, but marched steadily along with his muskets pecking at Cathbarr's men. When he had come between the wooded hillsides, however, Cathbarr came charging down the road; the pikemen settled their pikes three deep to receive him, and with that Brian led out his men among the trees and swooped down with an ax swinging in his right hand.

Alive to his danger, the Dark Master tried to receive his charge, but at that instant Nuala's men burst down on the other flank. Brian headed his men, and at sight of him a yell of dismay went up from the O'Donnells. A moment later the pikemen's array was broken and the fight disintegrated into a wild affray wherein the horsemen had much the better of it.

Brian tried to cut his way to the Dark Master, but when O'Donnell saw the pikemen shattered he knew that the day was lost. He gathered his dozen horsemen and went at Cathbarr viciously; Brian saw the two meet, saw O'Donnell's blade slip under the ax and Cathbarr go from the saddle, then the Dark Master had broken through the ring and was riding hard for the North.

Brian wheeled his horse instantly, found the Bird Daughter at his side, and with a score of men behind them they rode out of the battle in pursuit. It proved useless, however, for the Dark Master had the better horseflesh; after half an hour he was gaining rapidly, and with a bitter groan Brian drew rein at last.

"No use, Nuala," he said. "I must wait until my strength has come back to me, for I have done too much and can go no farther."

The girl reined in beside him, and her hand went out to his, and he found himself gazing deep into her eyes.

"For what you have done, Brian," she said simply, "thanks. Now let us ride back, for I think there is work before us, and we shall see the Dark Master soon enough."

"I am not minded to wait his coming," quoth Yellow Brian darkly, and they returned.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK. Don't forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the continuation of this story without waiting a month.



Nuala O'Malley

by H. Bedford-Jones

Author of "Malay Gold," "The Ghost Hill," "John Solomon, Supercargo," etc.

This story began in the All-Story Weekly for December 30.



CHAPTER XIII.

BRIAN RIDES TO VENGEANCE.

"Then you are intent on this vengeance, master?" asked Turlough thoughtfully.

"Yes," answered Brian. "I here take oath that I will never cut hair nor beard again until I have seen the Dark Master dead."

"You are not like to have a chance at your hair very soon," laughed out Lame Art O'Malley. "But that is a good oath, Yellow Brian."

"Then I think this is a better plan," spoke up Turlough Wolf. "Give me ten men, Brian, and I will go to Galway. I will soon get traces of O'Donnell; and if he goes into the north to get men of his own sept" (tribe or family), "as I think most likely, I will send back word, and we can follow him."

"Do it," said Brian, and Turlough was gone that night.

This discussion took place in the hollow, where the fight was soon over after the flight of the Dark Master. Out of the six hundred who had left the castle, two hundred had been O'Donnell's men. Half of these remained and took service with Brian at once. Of the four hundred pikemen, three hundred had gone down fighting like the stubborn south-country men they were, and the rest took service with Nuala O'Malley. They were most of them Kerry men, and well disposed toward ships and piracy.

Brian had lost in all fifty men in that battle, while the Dark Master had given Cathbarr a goodly thrust through the shoulder, which had let out most of the giant's vanity and promised to give the huge ax some time to rest and rust. So, then, Brian found himself heading two hundred and fifty men of his own, with Nuala's hundred O'Malleys, when they rode down again to Bertragh Castle.

This had been left in charge of a hundred men under Red Murrough, who had not been slain, but only wounded by Cathbarr's fist, that night in the great hall. Having left a party to bring in the wounded in wagons from the farms, they arrived before the castle shortly after noon. Cathbarr was left in charge of the camp, and Brian rode up to the gates with Nuala and her two kinsmen, with a flag of truce.

Murrough and his men were put into consternation by the news Brian gave them. After much stroking of his matted beard, Murrough proposed to surrender the castle on condition that he hold his post of lieutenant. Brian laughed, for he had other views on the subject.

"You sold your master, and you will have no chance to sell me, Murrough. I will give you the ten pounds I owe you and a good horse. Refuse, and I slay you when we storm the castle."

The end of that matter was that Murrough assented. An hour later he opened the gates, his men taking service with the rest under Brian. Then, having obtained his ten English pounds and a horse, he waved farewell to his men and rode away; and what became of him after that is not set forth in the chronicle, so he comes no more into this tale.

Nuala loaded her fifty men into her carack, and sent them home that night to Gorumna in case of need, proposing to follow later with Lame Art, Shaun the Little, and her Kerry recruits. The O'Malley cousins intended going south, since their affair had been so unexpectedly ended, and picking up a Spanish ship or two before returning home.

"And now, what of your plans?" asked Nuala, as she and Brian sat together that night before the huge fireplace in the hall, where Brian had been burned and where Cathbarr had fought so well. "Of course, we can settle rents later on."

"When there are farms to gather rents from," laughed Brian, stretching out easily. He lifted his bandaged left hand, gazing at it. "First, I am minded to rest here and wait for news from Galway. The bones in this hand of mine are not broken, from what I can make out, and it will soon knit. As soon as may be, I shall ride after the Dark Master; when I have paid my debts, I will then be in shape to look for a castle for myself."

"Then you are determined to kill O'Donnell?" and she looked at him sidewise.

"He has my Spanish blade," said Brian. "It is good Toledo steel, and I want it back again."

"You have three hundred and fifty men here," she observed. "Can you feed them?"

"You have food in Gorumna—send me some. When I am well again I shall ride with most of them, which will lessen the burden. With the spring I will take lands between here and Slyne Head, for now I am strong enough to defend what I take."

"I shall also send you some of my pigeons, Brian. They are born and bred on Gorumna Isle, and if you tie a message to them they will—"

"I know," nodded Brian. "I have seen them used in Spain."

With that she described how she used these pigeons, and Brian saw that it was not by strength alone that this girl had maintained her position. She kept men in Galway, Kinvarra, and elsewhere, as far south as the Shannon and as far north as Erris, with others at Limerick and Tuam and Castlebar. In this wise she got news of what was passing in Connaught and Munster before most men had it, and more than one foreign ship had found her caracks waiting for it through the same means, since she held a privateer commission given her by Blake to legalize her sea-roving. Also, she had pigeons which carried return messages, chiefly to her kinsmen in Erris.

"And what is your goal, Bird Daughter?" Brian turned to her, his blue eyes clinching on her violet ones. "What will the end of all this wild life of yours be?"

"I do not know," she answered him, and turned away from his eyes to stare down into the fire. "In the end I may be forced into marriage, though I think not, for I have some will of my own in that regard." She laughed out suddenly and looked up. "Two years ago Stephen Lynch sent me a fair screed in all the glory of his chevron and three shamrocks and wolf crest, saying that he was coming in one of his ships to marry me."

"And did he ever come?" smiled Brian.

"Yes; but I took his ship from him and sent him home again by road, tied to a horse," she rippled out merrily. "Poor Stephen! The Bodkins never let the Lynches hear the last of it until Stephen fell fighting against Coote, and there was an end of it and him, too. When are you going to tell me your name, Brian?"

At the sudden question Brian was tempted, but forbore.

"When I have slain the Dark Master," he laughed.

"Then you are likely to be bearded worse than Cathbarr," she mocked him gaily. "Unless, indeed, you break that oath you swore this morning."

"Not I," returned Brian shortly. "I am not given to light oaths or light pacts, Bird Daughter. I think I shall get me a ship and go cruising some day."

"Come with me," she said, rising, "and you may win food and wine without begging from your overlord. Well, now for that chamber Cathbarr fixed up for me. Beannacht leath!"

Somewhat to his surprise, the next morning Brian found that Nuala was extremely businesslike and even curt. Knowing little of women, he tried to find wherein he had offended; failed utterly, and gave over the attempt on seeing that Nuala preferred the company of Cathbarr.

Then, remembering that kiss she had given the giant aboard ship, he concluded that the Bird Daughter was drawn by the physical magnificence of the man, which gave him a little bitterness. So he merely set his jaw the harder and said nothing of the thing that lay in his heart to any one. For that matter, he was not quite sure himself what the thing was; but he knew that he had never seen a woman such as the Bird Daughter in all his life, and was not apt to find another.

Turlough having departed on his mission, Brian fell back on Cathbarr to act as lieutenant; with Nuala herself, the work of getting the castle in shape proceeded apace. The Bertragh hold was built on a cliff that rose from the plain on the one hand, and sloped down to the water on the other; had the Dark Master not fallen into Turlough's trap, he might have turned out the pikemen to shift for themselves and have held the castle with his own men for as long as he wished.

Indeed, Brian found that the removal of danger and the taking of the castle had somewhat puffed up his men, lessening their fear of him. So, on the second day, he quelled a free fight that rose among them, hanged ten of the worst, and after this the others became as lambs before him.

Upon exploring the castle, Brian was delighted to find it well equipped in all things except prisoners. The Dark Master had had little use for captives, it seemed, and his dungeons were in sad disrepair. However, there was good store of powder, provisions in moderation, a well within the castle, and no lack of arms and munitions of war. Brian promptly took the chamber of O'Donnell for his own use—a large tower-room well furnished in English style, and having the luxury of a fireplace besides.

The construction of the building was simple—a large stone structure with embattled walls, running down close to the sea behind and rising above the plain in front. Save for the courtyard, the walls were not separated from the building proper, and there was one high tower, on which the flagstaff had been shattered since O'Donnell had taken the place, for he was not given to flags and display. Besides a dozen of the large bastards, there were five falcons, with plenty of ball.

Therefore, Brian had good reason to be satisfied with his new home. The only thing that rankled was that he held it not for himself, but for the Bird Daughter; and he was determined that when he had settled scores with the Dark Master he would only remain here until he had secured a hold for himself, free of all service.

But settling with O'Donnell Dubh was the first duty he had. Brian recalled his torture and the agony of Cathbarr every time he entered the hall. The iron rings that had been in the floor he had already torn out, while Nuala had taken for her own the lonely wolfhound, which had been left behind by the Dark Master. But Brian, who put all his desire for vengeance in the wish to "get back his Spanish blade," could hardly turn around without having some phase of his sufferings brought back to him.

The men who had been thrown out along the roads had fetched in word that the Dark Master had ridden for Galway, so Brian had great hopes that Turlough would bring back some definite news. If O'Donnell settled in the city, he was determined to go in at all risks and seek out his enemy face to face; the O'Malleys were on good terms with the Bodkins, who in old Galway played Capulet to the Montague of the Lynch family, and he would be able to command some help in that quarter.

* * * * *

On the fifth day after the castle had been taken, a galley came over from Gorumna Castle bearing news. Cromwell had failed before Duncannon, and promised to fail again at Waterford, and hope was rising high among the royalists, while O'Neill's Ulster army was biding its time in the north until a new leader was chosen by the Confederacy to make head with Ormond against the Parliament armies.

Upon this the O'Malley rovers were impatient to revictual at Gorumna and be off to the south after plunder, so Nuala decided to leave Bertragh the next morning. That night, after Cathbarr had drunk himself asleep and the O'Malleys had sought their ships, the Bird Daughter unexpectedly became very cordial toward Brian once more, and they sat up late before the fireplace.

Brian did not understand it, but he was quite willing to accept it, and when the talk turned on personal matters he was careful to ask no questions concerning Nuala's plans for the future. Instead, he told her tales of his life at the Spanish court, which interested her vastly, until in the end she broke forth with a passionate outburst.

"Oh, I wish I were a man!" she cried softly and eagerly, looking into the red embers. "All my life I have been among men, and yet not of them; I have had to do with guns and ships and powder, and I think I have not done so ill, yet I have had dreams of other things—things which I hardly know myself."

Astonished though he was at her sudden unfolding of herself, Brian looked at her gravely, his blue eyes very soft as he pierced to her thought.

"Yes," he said gently, "you are a woman, Bird Daughter—and if you were a man I think that you might have gain, but others would have great loss."

"Eh?" She looked straightly at him, unfearing his half-expressed thought. "I do not seek idle compliments, Yellow Brian, from those who serve me."

Brian flushed a little.

"It is hard to receive compliments gracefully," he said, and at that she also colored, but laughed, her eyes still on his.

"There, give grace to my rude tongue, Brian! Of course you meant it—but why?"

"Because there is no woman like you, Nuala—so able to weld men into union, so vibrant with inner power, and yet so womanly withal. It is no little honor to have known you, to have—"

"I wish you would tell me your name, Yellow Brian!"

There was woman's cunning in the placing of that answer, and it took Brian all aback. For a moment he was near to blurting out his whole story; then he took shame for letting a girl's face so run away with him. None the less, he knew well that it was her heart as well as her face, and her spirit as well as her heart, that had captured him; yet, because he had had no dealings with women since leaving Spain some months before, he told himself that if the Bird Daughter had other women near by to compare herself with, less attraction might be found in her.

But he did not pause long upon that thought, sweeping his blue eyes to hers in a smile.

"If you had been a man, Nuala, you had never had fealty from me."

"So—then it was pity?" and swift anger leaped into her face.

"Was it pity that drove Cathbarr to proffer his life for mine?" parried Brian, his eyes grave. He felt a great impulse to speak out all that was in him, but crushed it down. Her eyes met his, and held there for a long moment. Then she spoke very calmly:

"When will you take that cruise with me, Yellow Brian?"

"When I have won my Spanish blade again," he smiled, and after that they talked no more of intimate things, yet Brian's heart was glad within him.

With the next morning the Bird Daughter said farewell and went aboard Lame Art's carack. Sorry was Brian to see her go, for he had come to count much on her fine backing and inspiring courage, and knew not if he would ever see her again. As the ships raised anchor, Cathbarr suddenly let off the bastards with a great roar and raised on the shattered flag-pole an ensign he had secretly obtained from Shaun the Little. The ship-cannon barked out in brave answer and hoisted ensigns likewise; but as Brian looked up at the flag overhead, his despondent mood was not heartened. The three-masted ship of the O'Malleys flew above him, where he had much rather flown the red hand of his own house.

"When I have slain the Dark Master," he thought, watching from those same sea-facing battlements where he and Cathbarr had descended, as the two caracks leaped off to the south, "and when I have established myself in some hold, be it never so small, then I shall take back my name again and let the red hand hold what it has gripped. But not until these things have been done, for Brian O'Neill will give fealty to none—no, not even to the Bird Daughter herself."

Thus he thought in his proud bitterness, reckoning not on what the future was to bring forth. However, he had lost his idea that Nuala might love Cathbarr, and had great gladness of it.

Now there was work to be done, and Brian soon found himself too busy to bother his mind with thoughts of bitterness. Cathbarr had done no little drinking, so that his wound was turning bad, and in no little alarm Brian banished all liquors from him and tended him carefully. Taking a lesson from Red Murrough, he washed out the wound with vinegar, and found that this had its effect.

Since Brian was irked at having to rely on others for his supplies, he rode to all the outlying farms and sent off the families there under escort, with sufficient money to keep them and take them to their homes in the north. Many of them chose to remain, and certain of his men knew of women-folk they wished to bring hither, so that Brian saw he would not lack for farmers and settlers. Enough fodder was obtained to keep his horses for a time; but as this did not satisfy him, he set forth after four days on a cattle-raid to the northeast, riding past the Manturks toward Ashford with ninety men.

He was gone on that raid five days; found to his great joy that his strength had returned to him, and also found a small party of Royalist horse near Lough Corrib. These had been buying up cattle for the Galway garrison, and had collected fifty head; but on Brian's approach they did not stay for dispute, but fled.

So Brian cheerfully sent the fifty head of cattle home with as many men, and with the others swept around through the mountains. With him were two of Cathbarr's axmen, and they led him to the hold occupied by Murrough O'Flaherty of the Kine, where Brian stayed half a day. He concluded a friendship with the mountaineers, promising them powder in exchange for cattle, and they promised, in turn, that within three weeks they would fetch a hundred kine down to Castle Bertragh.

Having thus assured himself of both food and stock for his farms, he rode home again, to find great news awaiting him.

First, there had come a galley from Gorumna with wine and stores. Nuala sent word that her men in Galway had informed her the Dark Master was there, but in no high favor with Lord Burke and the other commanders. Second, one of Turlough Wolf's men had come in with news which had caused Cathbarr to have the men in all readiness against Brian's return.

The Dark Master was indeed in Galway town, and had made small head with his suit for men, having related that Vere and his pikemen were lost. However, he had been promised some help, provided he could gather any force of his own and would hold Bertragh for the Royalists. Cromwell had been driven back at Waterford, but Cork had risen for him, and his men had entered there.

So the Dark Master was going to the north to get him men in Sligo, as Turlough had predicted he would do, and his plan was to raise a force, bring down those Donegal pirates with whom he was in alliance, and set on Bertragh by sea and land, as Brian himself had aimed at doing. Turlough said that he was following, but would leave men at Swineford and Tobercurry with further news of what happed.

"Good!" cried Brian joyfully. "Cathbarr, have a hundred and fifty men saddled at dawn—what is this?"

Turlough's messenger handed him a paper. It was a safe-conduct issued by the Confederacy and Royalist leaders in the name of one Stephen Burke, and where the wily Wolf had gotten it the messenger did not know. But it might come in useful, since there were few parliament men in Sligo and Mayo, and Brian tucked it away with a laugh.

"Then to the north at dawn—and O'Donnell shall not escape me this time!"



CHAPTER XIV.

HOW THE STORM FARED NORTH.

Now, it was no easy matter for a band of horsemen to ride from Galway to Sligo in that day, unless they were known men and rode for the king or the Confederacy. Scattered bands of men had come into the west from Ulster and Leinster, and these had driven out what Parliament men had landed; through the early years of the war Owen Ruadh's men had swept all the west country, and now the land was resting, waiting for the storm that was fated to come upon it when the rest of Ireland had been crushed under the heel of Ireton. Enniskillen alone, in Fermanagh, held out for Parliament.

So, while the larger towns were all under Irish authority, the hill-country was full of seething parties from all armies, most of them being ravagers and outlaws who would fear to lay hand on so large a party as Brian's. But little Brian cared for them, and without let or pause he drove north to Ashford and so into the lowlands.

Knowing that he must return again by the same way, he avoided the larger towns and pushed hard for Swineford, where he would find word from Turlough. More than once he met parties of men on the road, but these were not anxious to question him, and it was not until he was riding around Claremorris that men began to feel his heavy hand.

With Lough Garra falling behind on the left, and Claremorris at safe distance on the right, Brian was clattering along on the third morning. His men carried muskets slung at their saddles, with bandoliers of cartridges at their waists ready for quick action; and well it was that they were so prepared. Searching ahead with narrowed eyes, Brian caught a quick glint of steel on the road, and in no long time he made out a party of a hundred men riding toward him. Brian got ready both his ax and his safe-conduct, and rode forward without pause.

Now, he had brought with him most of those Scots troopers he had taken into service, and as the other party drew near he heard a swift yell of "Albanach!" that boded no good. But Brian shouted to them and asked who they were.

"None of your affair!" answered their leader, a huge, dark man. "Who are you?"

"Stephen Burke from Galway," answered Brian; but before the words left him he saw a musket flash, and one of his men fell.

Upon that, no more words were wasted. Brian threw up his ax and dug in his spurs, with his men behind; and when they loosed their muskets they rode on the hundred with butts swinging. This was a new kind of warfare in Connaught, and before Brian's ax had struck twice the field was won. From two prisoners he found that the band was composed of a levy of the O'Connors out of the Storm Mountains.

"That is not well for our return," said one of his lieutenants. "We will have the whole country up after this battle, and we have lost ten men."

"Then we shall have the more need of recruits," quoth Brian, and let his prisoners go free, since they would take no service, but only cursed him.

However, Brian was not ill pleased, since he found that he was nearly sped of his wounds, though his left hand gave him some trouble at times. His pleasure was speedily cured, for when they camped that night on the hither side of Kiltarnagh there came a rush of men toward dawn, and before they were beaten off twenty of Brian's men were dead. Five prisoners were taken, and when two of these had been hung, the other three confessed that the attack had been made by certain O'Connors from the southern end of Lough Conn, to whose villages fugitives had come from the affray of the previous morning.

With that, Brian took counsel with some of his men who knew the country, and it was their advice that he give up the ride and return home.

"I will not," said Brian shortly. "This war was not of my seeking, but thirty of my men have been slain. Guide me to these villages, and I will take blood-fine."

This he did because he needs must. His men did no ravaging, and were in need of provisions, while he was minded to fill up his ranks. Also, by taking sharp vengeance, he knew that on his return he was not like to be molested.

So he turned aside and rode fast for Lough Conn, which he reached the next evening, and there came a storm of men on all that country. Twice through the days that followed Brian had to fight hard—once against a muster of the O'Connors, and once against a large force of ravaging hillsmen under one Fitzgerald. Him Brian slew with a blow of his ax that went from shoulder to saddle.

From his men he gained fifty recruits and no small booty, both of money and horses; and from the O'Connors he took bitter blood-fine for his slain men in spare horses and provisions.

These doings are set down briefly in the chronicle; but when Brian turned east again, with Swineford a hard day's ride away, he once more had a hundred and fifty men at his back, with a good store of all things, while his name was one that spread fear. He left his men camped two miles out of Swineford, on the Moy, and rode next morning into the town with a dozen horsemen only.

In the town was quartered a small force of Maguires from Fermanagh, and as he rode in Brian was halted by their leader, who gave him the sele of the day and asked his name. Brian held out his passport, and after Maguire had fumbled over it and pretended that he could read, he gave it back with a grin and Brian passed on with another.

The seal of the Confederacy on the safe-conduct was quite enough for any man in these parts, however.

Brian had not ridden a hundred paces farther before he saw one of Turlough's men beckoning to him from the door of an inn, so he left his troopers to drink outside and passed within. Turlough's man joined him at a table, and there Brian gained news of the most cheering.

Six days before this the Dark Master had arrived at Swineford, with Turlough an hour behind him. The old Wolf, whose cunning made up for his lack of courage, had made shift to get two of O'Donnell's dozen men embroiled with the Maguires. The upshot of that had been a fight, followed by a delay of two days for investigation; finally the Dark Master had slipped away, his two men had promptly been hung, and Turlough had meantime gone ahead to prepare fresh delays at Bellahy and Tobercurry. He had four men left with him, though he had left Bertragh with ten.

"Then O'Donnell has four days' start of me," reflected Brian. "If Turlough can hold him, we will catch him at Sligo at latest."

He left the inn and rode back to his camp, where he had the men on the road in ten minutes. Tobercurry was only fifteen miles north, and putting his horses to a gallop, Brian rode hard and fast until that afternoon he came into the place. He found no garrison, but, instead, was met by old Turlough himself, with a bandaged head and two wounded men.

"Mile failte!" cried Turlough joyously, running forward to kiss Brian's hand in wild delight. "You are well come, master! Is all well down below?"

"All well, old friend," laughed Brian, swinging down to clasp the old man in his arms. "Where is the Dark Master?"

"Where we shall catch him in a forked stick presently," chuckled Turlough, wagging his beard. "Get these wild men of yours out of the town, and come into the inn with me to talk. I have all the Dark Master's plans, master, and we have only to strike."

Brian ordered his men to camp a mile outside town and to do no plundering, so they clattered off, to the great relief of the townfolk.

"Now," said Brian, when they two were sitting across a table, "what has passed that you are bound up? Have you been fighting?"

"Well, after a fashion," grimaced Turlough disgustedly. "I was here ahead of the Dark Master, and raised the townpeople against him for a plunderer. When he came up the road was full of men; but the devil slew two and wounded two of my own men, cut his way through the rest, and as I fled north my horse flung me and bruised my head. Has the castle fallen?"

"Yes," laughed Brian, and related what had happed at Bertragh. "Have I time to bide here and eat?"

Turlough yeasaid this and sent the inn-master bustling for food and wine. When this was set before them, Turlough Wolf told his tale, beginning with the statement that two of O'Donnell's men had been captured when he cut through the townfolk and rode off.

"Where are they?" asked Brian quickly, his eyes narrowing.

"Hanged," chuckled the old man succinctly. "At Galway I could make out nothing more than the word I sent you by messenger, so I came north after O'Donnell Dubh, taking very good care that he saw nothing of me."

"I'll warrant that," laughed Brian. "We met your man at Swineford."

"Then no need to tell what passed there. Well, I said that we caught two of his men here, and I got back into the town just in time to keep the folk from hanging them to the church steeple."

"Eh?" Brian stared, with his mouth full. "Why, I thought you said—"

"Dhar mo lamh, give me time to finish, master!" Turlough hesitated a little, evidently in some fear. "We took them into the churchyard and burned them a little, and so got out of them all the Dark Master's plans. Then the priest shrived them, and I let the townfolk hang them."

Brian looked across the table, his blue eyes like ice and his nostrils quivering with anger; the old man slanted up his gray eyes and turned uneasily in his seat, for well he knew what Brian would say to this.

"That was ill done, Turlough Wolf. If you had not served me so well, you would repent that work. By my faith, I am minded to hang you at their side!"

Brian meant it, for the torture of men made him furious.

"I am no fool to spare mad dogs," muttered Turlough sullenly. "It was the Dark Master who lopped these ears of mine eight years gone."

"Tell your tale," said Brian curtly and fell to eating again.

"I found tidings both good and bad, master. From Galway the Dark Master had sent messengers to his kin in Donegal, bidding them send aid south; also, he sent to certain pirates north of Sligo Bay. From Sligo to the Erne all that land is desolate, and has been so these six years, and the O'Donnells from Lough Swilly have set up a pirate hold near Millhaven. It was to these that the Dark Master sent also.

"He has appointed a meeting-place in the hills beyond Drumcliff, at a certain mountain named Clochaun, or the Stone. Now, whether you think my craft evil or good, master, it is yet gainful to us."

This much Brian was forced to acknowledge, though for many days afterward he was still angry at Turlough for torturing and hanging those men. He had no scruples about a downright hanging, but torturing was a very different matter, and one of which he had tasted himself.

"Well, what is your advice in this?"

"We can do one of two things, master. The one is to ride on to Sligo and fall on him when he comes south again with his men; the other is to ride hard after him and catch him, then fall on the Millhaven men, then meet the O'Donnells who are coming south to join him at the Stone Mountain with the rest."

"The first plan is more cautious," said Brian thoughtfully; "but to strike him when he has his men around him would be to repeat what we have done. I like the other way the better."

"It is both safer and yet more dangerous, master. Safer in that we smite him and his men separately, and more dangerous because we shall be in the heart of a wild country, without supplies, and with no aid in case we are defeated."

"It is more to my mind to talk of winning than losing," grunted Brian. "I have spare horses and money with which to buy provisions. Also, I think that I shall stamp flat that pirate nest at Millhaven, and set up my own banner there."

"Then you have a banner of your own, master?" Turlough squinted up slyly, for it was the first hint Brian had given him of what lay behind his nickname.

"Aye!" laughed Brian as the wine warmed him. "And it shall bear the Red Hand of Tyr-owen, old Wolf; but first to catch the Dark Master. Now let us go, for we shall ride to the Stone Mountain and see what haps there."

Upon that they rode forth from the town, and all the townfolk bade the crafty Turlough farewell, and gave him gifts for warning them against the "plunderers." Turlough looked up at the two bodies swinging in the wind as they passed the church-tower, and put his tongue in his cheek, but Brian said no more on the subject.

That night they camped outside the town, and Brian bought all the provision that the people would sell. This he loaded on the spare horses, and the next morning they set off for the north.

* * * * *

Now, in that fighting by Lough Conn, Brian had taken a shrewd clip which had reopened the bullet-tear over his scalp. Added to this, he was not yet in all of his former strength, and the hard ride to Tobercurry had set his blood to heating; wherefore it was that before coming to Sligo Brian was heavy with fever and was shaken with chill. A hard snow was driving through the night, and Turlough sent most of the men around the city to wait for them on the other side the Garravogue to avoid danger.

There was no garrison in Sligo, however. The old castle which Red Hugh O'Donnell had fought over in the old days was ruined; the grand monastery, built by Brian of Tyr-erril, had been burned by Hamilton's men, together with the town itself, and Sligo was well-nigh desolate. Turlough got shelter in a hovel, however; managed to put Brian into a miserable bed, and gave him a brew to drink. With the morning Brian found his fever gone, but weakness was on him.

They stayed in Sligo town all that day and the next night, and upon dawn, Brian insisted on riding north once more, against Turlough's protests. However, no ill came of it, for Brian was well used to riding, and the exercise gave him strength, though they made but a short march that day past the round tower of Drumcliff, halting in the hills.

As Turlough Wolf knew where the Stone Mountain was they had no use for guides. It lay only another day's march ahead of them, and there was some danger that their quarry would descry their coming and flee away to Millhaven.

"This is my rede, master;" said Turlough, "that you and I ride ahead with a few men to see how things go, and leave our men to follow. The hills are empty of rovers, for there is naught to plunder; but it were well to know if the Dark Master has joined with those friends of his."

"That seems good advice," said Brian, and, taking a dozen men, they rode forward warily, sending out other parties to scout also.

Over them towered the whiteness of the Stone Mountain, for snow lay thickly on all things. Brian gazed up at the gray-jutted crags, but his thoughts were not all with the Dark Master. Him he already accounted slain, and he was thinking of that Millhaven stronghold.

One day his own banner should fly there, he told himself. There must be a good harbor, else the northern pirates had never settled down to hold the place; and since all the country roundabout lay bleak and unsettled of men, the vision came to him of first taking the place, and then fetching O'Neills from the east and north to settle the lands around. They would flock to him when his condition was made known, and that Cromwell's men would shatter the royalists and confederacy Brian saw clearly, as Owen Ruadh had foretold him.

Already the house of Tyr-owen was scattered and fallen, as the greater house of Tyr-connall had been before it, for when the last earl had fled from the land, there had been only the younger branch to hold the sept together. Owen Ruadh was the final glory of that branch, and now Brian entertained the vision of transplanting the Red Hand and of making his rule strong in the west.

But other men had entertained the same vision before him, and it had remained a vision, and no more; and the high hopes of Brian himself were fated to be driven upon the rocks of destiny before many days had passed over.

With the afternoon the little party stood on the lower slopes of the Stone Mountain itself, and Turlough drew the shape of the place in the snow with his pike-haft.

"Here are we," he explained, "on the southern slopes. A half-mile ahead of us is a valley with a small and fast-rushing water, where we shall make camp this night if the Dark Master be not before us. And if he is not, then he will be on the northern side, where there are two well-sheltered valleys with water running, fit for the meeting-place and camp of men. Here is the easternmost, but, as I remember it, the snow fills the valley somewhat in winter. The other holds a small lake called the Dubh Linn, or Black Tarn, and in one of these we shall find the Dark Master, unless he is here before us."

"Well, let us ride on and see to that," said Brian, and they did so.

However, they found the valley deserted and empty, and picked a place for camp, sending back a horseman to bring up the force. They could make out no smoke rising from the mountain, nor dared they light fires until after dark for fear of alarming O'Donnell; but when the force came up, Brian sent out scouts to bring in what word might be had.

"Where got you such knowledge of this wilderness?" he asked Turlough that night when the fires were blazing and the men were warmed and fed. The old man narrowed his gray eyes and chuckled a little.

"I have been in many armies, master, though I have fought not; and I have been outlawed twice by the English, in the old days. This was always a good place to flee to."

Brian laughed and said no more. That night the men rested well, and Brian himself got sleep which sent strength into him and served him well in the days to come, for it was long before he was to sleep again, save as he rode, nodding in the saddle.

Not until nearly dawn did the last of the scouts straggle in. None of these bore any news, and all agreed that no signs could they find of any large band of men, nor of any men at all. Turlough heard their reports, letting Brian sleep, and only when the last man came in were any tidings brought. This man bore a strip of sheepskin, which, he said, an old woman had given him to bear to his master.

"A woman!" exclaimed Turlough, scanning the written words on the sheepskin, but unable to read them. "What is she like? It is a strange thing if women bide on Slieve Clochaun! Was there any stead near by?"

"None," replied the man, who trembled with something more than cold. "M'anam go'n Dhia! She was a witch woman, or worse, Turlough Wolf. She leaped out of the snow in my path, told me to bear that skin to Yellow Brian, and vanished in a burst of fire. How could she not have been a devil?"

"Nonsense!" grunted Turlough, though he suddenly laid the strip of skin down. "You are overwarm with uisquebagh, man. What was this woman like? Was she clad all in black?"

"Faith, I did not stop to see," grinned the man sheepishly.

Turlough stroked his beard, while the men went off to eat and sleep. He gazed at the strip of skin, and twice stretched out his hand toward it, with his eye on the fire, but each time drew back. Then he glanced around craftily, found he was alone, and took from under his cloak a small, brass crucifix. With this he touched the skin, found that nothing happened, and rose with a nod. The dawn was just breaking in the east.

"There is no sorcery in it, at least," he muttered; "but I think it bodes no great good to us. Ho, Brian!"

Brian woke and sprang up. Turlough handed him the strip of skin, saying no word, and when Brian had held it to the light of the embers, he looked up suddenly.

"Whence came this?"

"What does it say first?" returned Turlough uneasily.

"News!" cried Brian, his blue eyes aflame with eagerness. "It says that O'Donnell bides alone by the Black Tarn, and that his horsemen from the north are camped two miles beyond the mountain, waiting for him, and that he has made pact with the Millhaven pirates and they have left for their stronghold. Answer me—whence came this? It is written in good English writing, man!"

Then Turlough told of what had chanced, and when he had done, Brian stared into his gray eyes with a great wonder. Twice he tried to speak, but his lips were dry.

"The Black Woman!" he muttered thickly. "Can it be, Turlough? Who is she?"

"That was my thought, master," said Turlough. "Who she is none know save herself; but she deals with no good. This may be a trap; let us ride south again, and at once, lest evil come upon us."

"South? Not I," laughed Brian, though his face was pale. "To horse, men!"

And at his ringing shout the camp awoke, and Brian saw his vengeance drawing near.



CHAPTER XV.

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE TARN.

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 the morning 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 being seen 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.



CHAPTER XVI.

BRIAN GETS HIS SWORD AGAIN.

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 his skean.

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 the men 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 in those 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 that leads 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 the bridge-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 long skean plunge 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.



CHAPTER XVII.

BRIAN GOES A CRUISING.

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 met the 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.