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.
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 feal
ty 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.
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