THE BIRD DAUGHTER.
"Now, _there_ is a castle worth the taking, Yellow Brian!" said
Cathbarr.
Brian nodded, his eyes shining in the starlight. After a pull of a long
seven miles down the bay, the galley had rounded into the northern end
of Gorumna Isle, guided by a high beacon set among the stars. As they
drew nearer Brian made out that this beacon was set on the tower of a
high pile of masonry black against the sky, lit here and there by
cressets, and it was plain that the Bird Daughter kept good watch since
they had more than once been hailed in passing the islands.
Once turned into the harbor, Brian found suddenly that they were among
ships, many of them small galleys, but two of good size which bore
riding-lights. Again they responded to hails, and without warning a few
torches blazed out ahead of them. Then it was seen that the castle was
built with its lower part close on the water, and its upper part rising
on the crag. In reality, as he found later, it was two castles in one,
as of necessity it had to be. Were the opposite isles held by an enemy,
and hostile ships in the little harbor, the higher towers running up the
crag could dominate all, and the lower castle could be abandoned without
danger.
Even in the starlight Brian's trained soldier's eye made out something
of this. Then the leader of the seamen came and stood beside them, for
during the two-hours' trip he had talked somewhat with Cathbarr and had
come to look with more respect on Brian himself. That was only natural,
for seamen ever like those men who talk least.
"Strangers," he said with rough courtesy, "a word in your ear. If you
would gain speech with the Lady Nuala, deal not with her as with me.
Send in your names and your business, and you may perchance get to see
her in the morning, or a week hence, as she may choose."
"Thanks," answered Brian. "But my will is not like to hang upon hers."
The seaman shrugged his shoulders, the oars were put in, and they
floated up to where the torches flared. Here there was a landing-place
of hewn stone, with a gate lying open beyond it, and armed men waiting.
One of these, from his bunch of huge keys and air of authority, Brian
knew for the seneschal.
"_M'anam go'n Dhia!_" he growled, peering down into the boat as it
ground on the stone, "what fish have you there?"
"Two salmon and ten herring, Muiertach," laughed one of the men. Brian
and his friend stepped out while the ten prisoners were prodded after
them, and Brian found the seneschal looking him over with some wonder,
hands on hips.
"Well! A giant with a devil's ax, and Cuculain, the Royal Hound, come to
life again! Who are you, yellow man, and who is this axman, and who are
these ten bound men?"
Brian was minded to answer curtly enough, but he looked at the seneschal
and remembered the seaman's kindly warning. Under his eye the laugh
withered suddenly on the seneschal's lips.
"These ten men belong to me, Muiertach. Go, tell the Bird Daughter that
Brian Buidh and Cathbarr of the Ax have come to her, bringing tribute as
she demanded."
Now it was that Cathbarr, who had asked no questions all that day,
perceived for the first time the reason of their fighting and hard
riding, and what the manner of that tribute was. He broke into a great
bellow of laughter so that the rough-clad seamen stared at him in
wonder, but at a word from Brian he quieted instantly.
"In the morning the message shall be delivered, Brian Buidh," returned
burly Muiertach with a glimmer of respect in his voice. "And now render
up your weapons, so that we may treat you as guests--"
"So you sea-rovers are afraid of two men, lest they capture your hold?"
Brian's biting words brought a deep flush to Muiertach's face.
"No weapons do we render," he went on, his voice cold as his eyes. "We
come as guests, seneschal, and our business is not with you. Take these
ten men to your dungeons, take us to guest chambers and give us to eat,
and see that we have speech with the Bird Daughter before to-morrow's
sun is high."
At this Muiertach growled something into his beard, but turned with a
gesture of assent. His men closed around the captives, while Brian and
Cathbarr followed him into the castle, the giant still chuckling to
himself with great rumbles of laughter.
"Let strict watch be kept over these two," said Muiertach in English to
one of the torchmen who accompanied them, thinking he would not be
understood.
"You may yet get a touch of the whip for that order," said Brian in the
same tongue.
Stricken with amazement, Muiertach turned and stared at him, jaw
dropping, while Cathbarr glanced from one to the other in perplexity.
Brian smiled.
"Lead on, and talk less."
With tenfold respect, the seneschal obeyed. Now Brian saw that this
castle was indeed a stronghold, and might easily be defended by fewer
men than it had. The inner walls of the lower castle were well lined
with falcons and falconets, while on the towers above peered out heavier
cannon, which he took for culverins from their length of nose. Crossing
the courtyard, they entered the building itself, and Muiertach led them
through upward-winding corridors, studded with cressets and with here
and there a recessed _prie-dieu_ in the wall.
From the snatches of talk behind the doors they passed, Brian guessed
that this lower castle was occupied by the garrison. In this he was
right, for with torchmen before and behind them they emerged into the
cold night air again and climbed upward, coming to a gate in the wall of
the upper castle. This stood open, but it clanged shut behind them, and
after crossing a steep courtyard they entered a second and broader
corridor.
Muiertach led them up a long flight of stairs, then another, and finally
flung open a heavy door. It was evident that they were lodged in one of
the towers.
"Rest sound and fear not to eat our food," said the seneschal.
"_Beannacht leath!_"
"Blessing on you," responded Brian and Cathbarr together, and entered.
For a wonder, Brian found that the chamber was lighted with candles,
which Cathbarr examined with no little awe. Also, it contained a very
good bed, on which the giant looked with suspicion. The hard stone walls
were hung with tattered tapestries, and before they had settled well
into their chairs two men entered with food and wine of the best.
"Not so bad," smiled Brian as they ate. "How come your wounds, brother?"
"Those scratches? Bah!" And the giant gurgled down half a quart of
Canary at a stretch. "You are not going to sleep on that bed of cloths?"
"That I am," laughed Brian, "and soon, for I am overweary with riding.
Try it, Cathbarr, and you will be glad of it."
"Not I! Since there is no bracken here the floor is good enough for me.
Eh, but this sea-woman will have a thought in her mind over your
message, brother!"
Brian chuckled, but he was too weary with that day's work to talk or
think, and when the remnants of their meal had been removed and their
door shut, he gratefully sought the first bed he had known for weeks.
After some laughing persuasion he prevailed on the suspicious Cathbarr
to blow out the candles, and upon that he fell asleep.
When he wakened it was broad daylight, and Cathbarr was still snoring
with his ax looped about his wrist as usual. Brian, feeling like a new
man, went to the open casement and looked out.
He found himself gazing through a three-foot stone wall, and as he was
doubtless in one of the towers, this argued that the lower walls were
twelve feet thick or more. The lower castle was hid from him, but his
view was toward the upper bay and included the harbor. The two larger
ships, which were small caracks, but large for the west coast in that
day, bore six guns on a side, and Brian saw that they were being
scrubbed and made shipshape. The Bird Daughter must be a woman of some
scrupulousness, he reflected. Beyond the brown sails of two
fishing-boats, and low, storm-boding clouds over the farther hills,
there was nothing more in sight.
As Cathbarr still wore his long mail-shirt, Brian kicked him awake, and
after his first bellowing yawn their door opened and men brought in jars
of water. When the giant's wounds had been dressed, under protest, and
they had broken their fast, the seneschal appeared.
"Chieftains," he said respectfully, "the Lady Nuala has received your
message and will have speech with you this afternoon. Until then she
wishes that you keep your chamber, since she knows not your mind in this
visit."
"That is but fair," assented Brian.
Cathbarr grumbled, but there was no help for it, since they were
virtually prisoners. The day passed slowly, and toward noon storm drew
down on the harbor and snow eddied in their casement. With that, they
fell to polishing their weapons; Brian procured a razor and a
much-needed shave, and Cathbarr furbished up his huge ax until it glowed
like silver.
Finally Muiertach appeared. Brian slung the great sword across his back,
and they followed the seneschal down to the courtyard. Here they were
joined by the captive O'Donnells and the seamen who had brought them to
the castle, and Muiertach led them to the great hall.
The father of this O'Malley woman must have been a man of parts, thought
Brian as he gazed around. The hall was scantily filled with, perhaps,
three-score men ranged along the walls, and at the farther end was a low
dais where a huge log fire roared high. The beams were hung with a few
pennons and ship-ensigns, and on the dais were placed a half-dozen
chairs. Behind one of these stood two women, and in the chair, calmly
facing the hall, sat the Bird Daughter.
Brian caught his breath sharply, and his blue eyes flickered flame as he
saw her. Never in his life had his gaze met such a woman--not in all the
land of Spain or elsewhere in Ireland.
At this time Nuala O'Malley was twenty years old, and ten of those years
had been passed either on shipboard or here in Gorumna Isle. As one
chronicler describes her, "She was not tall, but neither was she small
of stature, and when she stood on a ship's deck there was no tossing
could cause her to stumble. Her hair was not blue, but neither was it
black, and her eyes were very deep and bright, violet in color, and set
wide in her head. Her nose was neither small nor large, her cheeks were
ever red with the wind off the sea, her mouth was finely curved, but
tight-set withal, and she had more chin than women are wont to have. She
was very lissom in body, but her head never drooped."
And that is a most excellent description of the Bird Daughter, in fewer
words than most men might use to-day.
But of all this Brian noted at the moment only that before him sat a
girl-woman whose calm poise and confident power struck out at him like a
vibrant presence. Like himself, she wore a cloak of dark red, but no
steel jack glittered beneath it; there was a torque of ancient gold
about her neck, and her hair was caught up and hidden beneath a small
cap of red.
Brian thought of the woman he had painted in his mind, then laughed
softly. She caught the laugh on his face, and comprehended it, and was
pleased; then as she watched him very calmly, it seemed to Brian that
her sheer beauty was a thing of deception. It must be, for she was
surely a woman of blood. He had known enough of beautiful women, who
played the parts of men, to know that on the far side of their beauty
was neither mercy nor love nor compassion, that their lovers were many
steps to ambition, and that they were venomous. So his smile died away,
and his blue eyes glittered cold and dark, and this the Bird Daughter
saw also.
Now, there was no man on the dais save Muiertach, who mounted the two
steps with his keys jangling. As Brian would have gone after him, two
pikemen stepped forward to intervene. Brian looked into their eyes and
they drew back again. He and Cathbarr mounted to the dais, and he bowed
a low, courtly, Spanish bow, of which the Bird Daughter took no note.
Instead he heard her voice, very low and penetrating, and she was
speaking to the two pikemen.
"Go out into the courtyard," she said, "and give each other five lashes.
This is because you dared insult a guest, and because you drew back
after insulting him. Go!"
The two pikemen, rather pale under their beards, handed over their pikes
to comrades and strode out of the hall. She turned to Brian, speaking
still in Gaelic:
"Welcome, Brian Buidh. You have come to bring me tribute?"
"Yes, Lady Nuala, and the tribute is these ten men of the Dark
Master's."
She looked at Cathbarr; her eyes swept over his ax. Then she looked
again at Brian, and spoke to Muiertach in English.
"Truly, I have seldom seen such a man as this--"
A swift look of warning flashed over the seneschal's face, and Brian
laughed.
"Lady," he said in the same tongue, "he is Cathbarr of the Ax, and he
will be a good man to stand with us against the Dark Master."
She betrayed no surprise, except that a little tinge of red crept to her
temples.
"I did not know you spoke English, Brian Buidh. Still, it was not to
Cathbarr that I referred."
At that it was Brian's turn to redden, and mentally he cursed himself.
There was no evil in this woman's heart, he saw at once. For an instant
he was confused and taken aback. Then she smiled, slowly rose, and
tendered him her hand. Going to one knee, he put her fingers to his
lips.
"Now sit, Yellow Brian," she said, "and let us talk. First, these
captives of yours. Do you in truth bring them as a tribute? How do I
know they are O'Donnell's men?"
"Ask these seamen of yours," laughed Brian, seating himself beside her.
Cathbarr remained standing and leaning on his ax, looking like some
giant of the old times.
She took him at his word, and when she had heard from the seamen certain
tales of what cruelties the ten prisoners had done, her violet eyes
suddenly turned black and an angry pallor drove across her face.
"That is enough," she interrupted curtly. "Take them out and hang them."
The men were led away, and Brian saw that her hands were tightly
clenched, but whether in fury or in fear of herself he could not tell.
Then she turned to him, looking straightly into his face, and on the
instant Brian knew that if this girl-woman bade him go to his death, he
would go, laughing.
"Tell me of yourself, Brian Buidh. Of what family are you? By the ring
on your finger you are an O'Neill; yet I have heard nothing of such a
man as yourself leading that sept. When your messenger came to me, I
read cunning in his face, and took it for a trap set by the Dark Master;
but now that I have seen you and Cathbarr of the Ax, I will take fealty
from you if you wish to serve me."
Brian smiled a little.
"Serve you I would, lady, but not in fealty. I take fealty and do not
give it. My name is indeed Brian Buidh, and as for that ring, it was a
gift from Owen Ruadh."
"Owen Ruadh died two days since," she said softly, watching his face. "I
had word of it this morning."
At that he started, and Cathbarr's eyes widened in fear of magic. Owen
Ruadh had lain on the other side of Ireland, and three months would have
been fast for such news to travel. But Brian nodded sadly.
"Carrier pigeons, eh?" he said in English and paused. He knew not why,
but his loneliness seemed stricken into his heart on a sudden; he who
neither explained nor asked for explanation from any man, felt impelled
to open his life to this girl-woman. He crushed down the impulse, yet
not entirely.
"Perhaps, Lady Nuala, there shall be greater confidence between us in
time, and so I truly desire. But know this much--I am better born than
any man in Ireland--aye, than Clanrickard himself; and I am here in the
west to seek a new name and a new power. It is in my mind to take
O'Donnell's castle from him, lady. I have some two hundred men, of whom
the Dark Master himself lent me twoscore, and in alliance with your
ships we could reduce him."
"How is this, Brian? You say he _lent_ you twoscore men?"
He laughed and explained the fashion of that loan; and when he had
finished a great laugh ran down the hall, and the Bird Daughter herself
was chuckling. Then he waited for her answer, and it was not long in
coming.
"There is some reason in your plan, Brian Buidh, but more reason against
it. The castle that O'Donnell holds was formerly my father's. If you
held it, there would be no peace between us, unless you gave fealty to
me, which I see plainly you will not do. I claim that castle, and shall
always claim it."
"Then it seems that I am held in a cleft stick," smiled Brian easily,
"since I will give fealty to none save the king, or Parliament. You are
allied with the Roundheads, I understand?"
She nodded, watching him gravely.
"Yes. Cromwell is master of the country, and I am not minded to butt my
head against a wall, Brian Buidh. If I am to hold to the little that is
left me, I shall need all my strength."
"And that is not much, lady. Your coasts are plague-smitten, your men
reduced, and Cromwell has not yet won all the country. Galway will be
the last to fall, indeed. But as to Bertragh Castle, why should you not
sell your rights in it to me?"
At his first words a helpless anger flashed into her face, succeeded by
a still more helpless pride.
"No, I will not sell what I have been unable to conquer back, Brian
Buidh. If there were any way out of this difficulty with honor, I would
take it; for I tell you frankly that I would make alliance with you if I
could."
Brian gazed at her, reading her heart, and fighting vainly against the
impulse that rose within him. Twice he tried to speak and could not,
while she watched the conflict in his face and wondered. He wished
vainly that he had Turlough's cunning brain to aid him now.
"Lady," he said at last, biting his lips, "I will do this. I will give
you fealty for the holding of Bertragh Castle, keeping it ever at your
service, but for this alone. When we have taken it, it may be that I
shall render it back after I have won a better for myself; yet, because
I would sit at your side and have equal honor with you, and because we
have need of each other, I will give you the service that I would grant
to no man alive. Is it good?"
For an instant he thought that she was about to break forth in eager
assent, then she sank back in her chair, while breathless silence filled
the hall. She gazed down at the floor, her face flushing deeply, and
finally looked up again, sadly.
"I do not desire pity or compassion, Brian Buidh," she said simply, and
her eyes held tears of helpless anger.
Then Brian saw that she had pierced his mind, for which he was both
sorry and glad. He knew well there were other castles to be had for the
taking, and there was nothing to prevent his riding on past Slyne Head
and winning them--except for his meeting with this girl-woman. Therefore
he lied, and if she knew it, she gave no sign.
"You mistake me, lady," he said earnestly, his blue eyes softening
darkly.
"I propose this only as a stepping-stone to my own ambition. Soon there
will be a sweep of war through the coasts, and I would have a roof over
my head. Is it good?"
She rose and held out her hands to him.
"It is good, Brian Buidh. Give me fealty-oath, for Bertragh Castle
alone."
And he gave it, and his words were drowned in a roar of cheers that
stormed down the hall, for the O'Malleys had heard all that passed.
An hour later Cathbarr of the Ax was despatched in a swift galley to
bear the tidings to Turlough, and bid him make ready for a swift and
sharp campaign.
Through the remainder of that afternoon and evening Brian sat beside the
Bird Daughter, and he found his tongue loosened most astonishingly, for
him. He told her some part of his story, though not his name, while in
turn he learned of her life, and of how her father and mother had been
slain by O'Donnell through blackest treachery.
The more he saw of her, the more clearly he read her heart and the more
he gave her deeper fealty than had passed his lips in the oath of
service. As for her, she had met Blake and others of the Roundhead
captains on her cruises, deadly earnest men all; but in the earnestness
of Brian she found somewhat more besides, though she said nothing of it
then. It was arranged between them that in three days they would meet
before Bertragh Castle, by sea and land, and the Dark Master would be
speedily wiped out.
With the morning Brian set forth to join his men in the largest sailing
galley, for a wild gale was sweeping down from Iar Connaught. But the
O'Malleys were skilled seamen who laughed at wind and waves, and Brian
kissed the hand of the Bird Daughter as he stepped aboard, with never a
thought of the storm of men that was coming down upon them both, and of
the blacker storm which the Dark Master was brewing in his heart.
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.