BRIAN LEANS ON HIS SWORD.
As he had foreseen, Brian was allowed to ride across the narrow neck of
land where his men would have had to battle for progress. It was from no
mere bravado that he had gone forward alone to the tower, but because
men were worth saving, and he believed that his own sword was a match
for any ax. If this ruffian Cathbarr was a freebooting outlaw, he would
be willing enough to stake his ten men on his prowess, and Yellow Brian
was very anxious to have those ten axmen behind him.
At the top of the tower men watched and steel glistened, and as Brian
rode up to the low gateway, it was flung open and a man strode out.
This man hardly came up to Brian's conception of an outlaw, except as to
stature.
He was a good six feet four, reflected Brian as he drew rein and waited,
and was built in proportion--or, rather, out of proportion. His
shoulders and chest seemed tremendous, and a long mail-shirt reached to
his knees; his hair was short-clipped and brown, and beneath his curly
brown beard Brian made out a massive face, wide-set brown eyes, and an
air not so much ruffianly as of cheerful good-humor.
Brian had no need to ask his name, however, for in one hand he carried a
weapon such as had seldom seen the light since powder had come to
Ireland. It was an ax, some five feet from haft to helve; double-bladed,
each blade eight inches long, curved back slightly, and two inches thick
by twice as much wide. The edges, which came down sharply from the
thickness, were not overkeen, and were not meant to be so. When the
thing struck, that was the end of what stood before it.
"_Cead mile failte!_" cried Cathbarr of the Ax in a deep, rumbling
voice, his white teeth flashing through his beard in a smile. "A hundred
thousand welcomes to you, swordsman! Are you come to capture my lordly
castle?"
"No; your men," laughed Brian, liking this huge, merry giant on the
instant. "I am come from O'Donnell Dubh to reduce you and fetch you to
him."
The smile froze on the giant's face.
"I am sorry for that, yellow one! I like your face and your thews, and
to find that you serve the black traitor of Bertragh is an ill thing."
"I serve no man," answered Brian easily. "I need men. If I conquer you,
O'Donnell lends me twoscore men for three months; also, by conquering
you I win your men to me, which makes fifty. With my seventy men, I
shall fall to work."
"By my faith, a ready reckoner!" and Cathbarr grinned again. "Get down
and fight."
Brian swung out of the saddle and led his horse to one side. They were
not so badly matched, he reflected. Cathbarr's head was bared, while he
had steel cap and jack; but for some reason he felt hesitant at thought
of killing this merry giant.
"Not so bad," he said, baring his five-foot blade and holding it up
against the huge ax. "Not so bad, eh?"
Cathbarr burst into a laugh.
"It will grieve me to crush your skull, dear man," he rumbled. "What a
pair we would make, matched against that Dark Master! But enough.
Ready?"
Brian nodded slightly, and the long ax flashed up.
Now, Brian O'Neill had served a stiff apprenticeship at weapons, and had
faced many men whose eyes boded him death, but here, for the first time
in all his life, he felt the self-confidence stricken out of him.
As Cathbarr heaved up his ax, he became a different man. All the good
cheer fled out of his face; his curly brown beard seemed to stand out
about his head like snakes, and the massiveness of his body was
reflected in the battle-fury of his face. He needed no blows to rouse
him into madness; but with the ax swinging like a reed about him, he
came rushing at Brian, a giant come to earth from of old time. His men
on the tower set up a wild yell of encouragement.
Brian leaped swiftly aside and, thinking to end the fight at a blow,
brought down his sword against the descending ax-haft. Sparks flew--the
haft was bound with iron; Brian only saved himself from falling by a
miracle.
Then began a strange battle of feet against brawn, for Cathbarr rushed
and rushed again, but ever Brian slipped away from the falling ax, nor
was he able to strike back. The play of that ax was a marvel to behold;
it was shield and weapon in one, and it seemed no heavier than a thing
of wood as it whirled. Twice Brian got in his point against the
mail-coat without effect, and twice the ax brushed his shoulder, so that
he gave over thrusting. He knew that he was fighting for his life
indeed.
An instant later he discovered that fact anew as a glancing touch of the
ax drove off his steel cap and sent him staggering back a dozen paces,
reeling and clutching at the air. To his amazement Cathbarr did not
follow him, but stood waiting for him to recover; he had not looked for
such courtesy on the west coast.
He sprang back into his defense, desperate now. Again the ax whirled,
seeming a part of the giant himself, and Brian knew that he was lost if
he waited for it. So, instead of waiting, he leaped under the blow,
dropped his sword, and drove up his fist into the bearded chin, now
flecked with foam.
It was a cruel blow. Cathbarr grunted, his head rocked back, and he
swayed on his feet. Before he could recover, Brian had set his thigh
against him, caught his arm, and sent him whirling to the ground, ax and
all. Then he picked up his sword and stood leaning on it, panting.
Cathbarr sat up and gazed around blankly, until his gaze fell on the
waiting figure. Brian looked at him, smiling slightly, and the eyes of
the two men met and clinched. As if he had been a child caught doing
wrong, the giant grinned and wiped the foam from his beard.
"Was that fair fighting, yellow man?" he asked.
"No," laughed Brian. "It was unfair, Cathbarr; but I think my fists can
best your ax yet."
Slowly the giant got to his feet. To Brian's surprise he left his ax
where it lay and came forward with extended hand.
"Had you claimed that blow as fair," he rumbled, "I would have slain
you. Now I love you, yellow man. Let us make a pact together. What is
your name?"
They struck hands, and Brian felt a great thrill of admiration for this
man whose terrible strength enclosed the simple heart of a child. But
he shook his head.
"I make no pacts, Cathbarr. My name is Brian Buidh. I made pact with the
Dark Master, and now I am sorry for it; yet it must be held to, for I
see no way out of it. But wait--I have a cunning man whose wit may help
us here."
He turned and flung up his sword in the air. His men rode down to the
narrow causeway, while from the tower came shouts warning Cathbarr
against treachery. But the giant only grinned again, and Brian shouted
to Turlough Wolf to come on alone.
Old Turlough obeyed in no little wonder. When he came up Brian told him
what had chanced--that out of enmity had arisen friendship.
"But," he concluded, trouble in his heart, "you must find me a way out,
Turlough. I have passed my word to O'Donness to reduce Cathbarr; to do
that I must slay him, or he me. I see little honor either way."
"Few men find honor in their dealings with the Dark Master," grumbled
Turlough, looking from Cathbarr to Brian. "Yet, if you want a way out,
it is an easy matter. Cathbarr of the Ax, give service to my master.
Thus, Brian Buidh, you shall reduce Cathbarr; yet the Dark Master said
naught of giving up this man to him."
"Good!" cried Brian, eagerness in his blue eyes, and swung on the giant.
"Will you give me your service, friend, and follow me? There shall be a
storm of men--" He paused abruptly as the words fell from his lips, but
he had said enough.
"I give you service, Yellow Brian," rumbled Cathbarr, taking his hand
again, and his strong, white teeth flashed through his beard. "I will
follow you, and my men, and there shall be firm friendship between us.
Is it good?"
"It is good!" exclaimed Brian, his heart singing. But Turlough laughed
harshly.
"So you have again broken my rede, Brian Buidh, for this man knows you
not as his master, but names you his friend. I bade you take, not give."
"It was your own advice," retorted Brian, laughing.
"Aye, since you asked it, I found the way out. But you have not
conquered him."
"He conquered me by not telling a lie," said Cathbarr simply. "I serve
him."
Turlough eyed them keenly, heard how the fight had gone, and then
suddenly comprehended what manner of man this huge, bearded fellow was.
His face cleared, and without a word he clasped Cathbarr's hand, and
asked Brian for orders.
"How far from here is Bertragh Castle?" questioned Brian.
"It overlooks Bertraghboy Bay," answered the giant. "Bide here till
noon, while my men bring in their horses from the hills, and with the
night we can arrive there."
To this Brian assented, well pleased that Cathbarr had horses. Turlough
went back to bring up his men, and Brian entered the tower that served
Cathbarr for castle. It was a small place, but strong; the ten men who
took his hand and gave him service were cut after the pattern of their
master--huge fellows all, O'Flahertys from the mountains who had
followed Cathbarr down to loot the coast, with no ill success.
It was a strange tale that he heard, while he and his men ate and drank
with their new comrades. For some months Cathbarr had maintained himself
here, raiding O'Donnell's lands chiefly and making his ax feared through
all the coast. In fact, the giant had attempted his own errand--to set
himself up in power; but he had gone about it like a child.
The Dark Master had come against him with a hundred men, and after
losing a score and more at the causeway, had tried to starve him out. At
that Cathbarr had calmly stolen away by boat, raided O'Donnell's
choicest farms overnight, and was back with his plunder before the Dark
Master guessed his absence. After this O'Donnell had kept watch and ward
upon his lands, with better results; Cathbarr occupied himself with
raiding against the scattered parties of plunderers in the hills, and
had won some booty.
Brian discovered many things during the hour or two he waited for the
horses to be fetched in. Chief of these was that he had set himself a
difficult nut to crack. The Dark Master held a strong castle, with rich
farms around it, and could summon at need some three hundred men to his
standard. In short, Brian found that O'Donnell held the very position he
himself wanted to hold--and was like to keep it.
"Of course," he thought soberly, reflecting on his future course, "if I
come off clear to-night I can ride with my seventy men to a better
place. And yet--I don't know! What better place than this? It will be no
long time before hoofs are in the land, for Royalist and Roundhead and
Ulsterman will be storming through the hills; Galway will be the last to
give in to Cromwell, of a certainty. When the hurricane falls, I want a
roof to shelter me--and whom could I turn out better than this
O'Donnell?"
Cathbarr's tower was too small to serve him as a fortalice, for it was
barely large enough to shelter the eleven axmen. Suddenly an idea
flashed across Brian's mind. Why not a union with this O'Malley woman
against the Dark Master?
Upon the thought, he rose and went out to the ice-rimmed shore below the
tower, where he paced up and down, considering the matter. After all, it
would do no harm, and there were great possibilities in it. He returned
to the tower at sound of shouts and clattering hoofs, and took Turlough
aside.
"Turlough Wolf, in your advice you spoke against making pacts with men,
but you said nothing of women. It is my purpose to send you to this
O'Malley castle, to propose a pact with Nuala O'Malley against the Dark
Master. You can tell her that I have a hundred horsemen behind me--for
I will have them. Will you do this, bearing her word back to me?"
Turlough plucked moodily at his ragged beard.
"I see no harm in such a pact, master," he replied thoughtfully. "As to
reaching the Bird Daughter, that is another matter. I think that I can
do it, however. When shall I start, and where shall I find you again?"
Brian reflected a moment.
"Start now, Turlough. Cathbarr and I will have no need of advice this
night, for we shall either fight our way clear, or else the Dark Master
will keep to his word. When you return, you will find me here; if I am
not here, I will leave a man here to give you word of me."
"I am to say that you have a hundred horsemen behind you?" Turlough's
sharp eyes swept to Brian's half-questioningly.
"Say a hundred and a half," laughed out Brian, "and trust your silver
tongue for the rest, old Wolf! Never fear, I will have the men. But mind
this, Turlough. I will make no other pact with her than this, against
the Dark Master. It may be that when I have driven him forth I may fly
after other game."
"Men have sought to drive the Dark Master forth," quoth Turlough, "and
their heads have rotted above his gate. Take heed lest there be an empty
spike there this night, Yellow Brian!"
But Brian only laughed shortly, and bade the old man affectionate
farewell, for he knew that Turlough loved him. And when Turlough had
ridden somberly away, Brian felt a strange sense of desertion, of loss,
that was no whit inspired by Turlough's gloomy last words. He shook it
off, however, at gripping hands again with Cathbarr. The axmen had
gathered most of their loot and buried what was of value, for Brian had
determined to return here from Bertragh and make use of the tower until
he had heard from Turlough's errand.
So now, at the head of thirty men, he rode across the narrow causeway
with Cathbarr of the Ax at his side for friend and guide. The giant did
not yet quite comprehend exactly what plan had flashed across the brain
of old Turlough, so as they rode Brian made the thing clearer to him.
When the simple and straightforward Cathbarr grasped the matter, he
smote his horse's neck with a bellow of laughter.
"Ho! So you bring me before the Dark Master ax in hand, reduced to
_your_ service instead of his, my men added to yours--oh, it is a jest,
brother, a jest! I think that O'Donnell will slay us both on the spot!"
"Not if your axmen are true," retorted Brian.
Cathbarr laughed again. "They fear me and they love me, brother," he
cried, gazing back at the file of horsemen. "Your own men fear you and
love you also. Therefore we are men alike."
Brian began to love the man for his utter simplicity, save where there
was killing in hand. Cathbarr seemed in reality to have the heart of a
child, impulsive and passionate to an extreme, and there was always a
certain rugged power in his bearing which bespoke him a true Flaherty of
the mountains. His men were like himself in this respect, and after they
had fraternized with Brian's men they began to feel the same unbounded
surety in Yellow Brian as Cathbarr expressed. Their axes were the usual
splay-bladed affairs that their grandfathers had used under Red Hugh at
the Yellow Ford, nor indeed in all his life had Brian ever seen another
ax like to that of Cathbarr's.
They rode through the afternoon while a light snow fell and a keen east
wind cut down from the peaks of the Twelve Pins, until the shaggy horses
slithered along with tails tucked tight beneath them. But there was good
cheer in the company, for the news had spread of how Yellow Brian would
have seventy men behind him that night. When the darkness began to fall,
Bertragh Castle came in sight far below--a gray crag jutting up from
the plain, scarped and embattled, the sea behind it and the watch-fires
of men twinkling from its keep. All about lay farms and steads, and the
lowing of byred cattle rose on the evening air when the snow ceased.
"Be careful not to drink or eat in that hall," warned Cathbarr blackly.
"Ill comes of it to all who accept hospitality there."
Brian nodded and rode on in silence, for there were parties of horsemen
and pikemen down below and the blare of horns shrilled up. Evidently the
riders on the hills had been seen from afar.
As they reached the lower ground Brian was aware of a band of men riding
to meet them, and halted. Through the dusk came a score of armed
horsemen, and their leader inquired their business, shouting from a safe
distance. Brian returned the shout.
"I am Yellow Brian, and I seek O'Donnell Dubh according to a pact made
with him yesterday. I have reduced Cathbarr of the Ax, and am come in
peace."
"You are expected," called the other, riding up with his men. "The Dark
Master is waiting for you."
And Brian rode on to Bertragh, not without some forebodings.