XIV. HOW THE STORM FARED NORTH. 664
XV. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE TARN. 670
XVI. BRIAN GETS HIS SWORD AGAIN. 674
XVII. BRIAN GOES A CRUISING. 679

Part IV

XVIII. BRIAN YIELDS BERTRAGH. 137
XIX. BRIAN MEETS THE BLACK WOMAN. 142
XX. THE STORM BURSTS. 147
XXI. CATHBARR YIELDS UP HIS AX. 151
XXII. THE STORM OF MEN COMES TO REST. 155

CHAPTER I.

THE BLACK WOMAN.

The horseman reined in as his jaded steed scrambled up the shelving
bank, and for a space sat there motionless, for which the horse gave
mute thanks. The moon was struggling to heave through fleecy clouds, as
it was hard on midnight; in the half obscurity the rider gazed around
suspiciously.

There was nothing in sight to cause any man fear. Behind him rippled the
Dee, and all around was desolation. Ardee itself lay a good two miles in
the rear, burned and laid waste six weeks before, and ten miles to the
south lay Drogheda. Indeed, as the horseman gazed about, he caught
sight of a faint glare on the horizon that drew a bitter word from his
lips.

Dismounting with some difficulty, owing to his cloak and Spanish hat, he
examined a long, raking gash in his horse's flank; then flung off hat
and cloak and calmly proceeded to bind up his own naked shoulder
beneath.

His was a strange figure, indeed, now that he stood revealed. He wore no
clothing save breeches and high riding-boots; an enormous sword without
a sheath was girt about his waist, and the caked blood on his shoulder
and cheek made his fair skin stand out with startling contrast.

About his shoulders fell long hair of ruddy yellow, while his face was
young and yet very bitter, tortured by both physical and mental
anguish, as it seemed. He bound up the deep slash in his shoulder with a
strip of cloth torn from his cloak, felt his wealed cheek tenderly, then
flung the cloak about him again and drew down his broad-brimmed hat as
he turned to his weary horse.

"Well, my friend," and his voice sounded whimsical for all its rich
tone, "you've had a change of masters to-day, eh? I'd like to spare you,
but man's life is first, though Heaven knows it's worth little in
Ireland this day!" With that he reeled and caught at the saddle for
support, put down his head, and sobbed unrestrainedly.

"Oh, my God!" he groaned at length, straightening himself to shake a
clenched and bloo