s, who mean to hang you in style, it seems. Now, it is in my
mind that it might advantage you somewhat if you were not moved thence
for a few days--indeed, you might even escape, for I think you are not
without friends."

"Eh?" Brian stared up at him wonderingly. "What does it matter to you?"

"Nothing, whether you live or die. But you are in my care, and if I
report that you are in too bad shape to be moved--which you are
not--then this Colonel Vere will camp outside our castle until you are
handed over to him. You will gain a few days in which to get your wits
back, and the rest is in your hands."

"I had not thought you loved me so much," and despite his agony Brian
forced out a bitter laugh.

"Not I! Faith, I had liefer see you nailed--but a service may be paid
for."

"I have no money," Brian closed his eyes wearily.

"No, but you have friends," and Murrough leaned forward. "Promise me a
clerkly writing to the Bird Daughter's men, or to your own men, ordering
that I be paid ten English pounds, and it is done."

"With pleasure," smiled Brian wryly. "Also, if I escape, I will spare
your life one day, Red Murrough."

"Good. Then play your part." And Murrough departed well pleased with his
acumen.

And indeed, the man carried out his bargain more than faithfully. One
visit assured the Dark Master that this broken, burned, cloth-swathed
man was helpless to harm him further, and after that he gave Brian
little thought.

As Murrough had reckoned Brian's swoop on the convoy had given him some
notoriety, and more than once Brian himself remembered Cathbarr's dark
presage after he had let the ten Scots go free to Ennis; Colonel Vere
was anxious to carry him back to Galway for an example to other
freebooters, and he was quite content to bide at Bertragh Castle until
his prisoner could travel.

For that matter the other officers of his command were quite as content
as he himself, since all were men from the south-country who loved good
wines, and the Dark Master had better store of these than the empty
royalist commissariat.

As for the Dark Master, Murrough reported to Brian that he also was well
content. Cromwell was sweeping like an avenging flame from Kilkenny to
Mallow and Ormond was helpless before him; both king's men and Irish
Confederacy men were pouring out of the South in despair, but the two
had finally joined forces and the final stand would take place in the
West. In fact, it seemed that things wer