Nuala O'Malley Part 12

While these things took place in the hall at Bertragh--and they were told later to Brian by many who had seen them and heard them, all telling the same tale--Brian and his sailing galley was making hard weather of it. Six of the O'Malleys had been sent with him to manage the galley, for he was no seaman and had placed himself in their hands; and after rounding into Kilkieran Bay from the castle harbor and reaching out across the mouth of the bay toward Carna, intending to reach Cathbarr's tower direct, the blast came down on them, and even the O'Malleys looked stern.

Sterner yet they looked when Brian cried that Golam Head was veiling in fog behind them, and with that the wind swerved almost in a moment and swept down out of the east, bearing fog and snow with it. Nor was this all, for the s.h.i.+ft of wind bore against the seas and swept down currents and whirlpools out of the bay, and after the snow and black fog shrieked down upon them, the seamen straightway fell to praying.

"Get up and bail!" shouted Brian, kicking them to their feet, for the seas were sweeping over the counter. The helmsman groaned and bade him desist, and almost at the same instant their mast crashed over the bow, breaking the back of one seaman, and the galley broached to.

With that the O'Malleys ceased praying and fell to work with a will, getting out the sweeps and bailing. The mingling of snow, shrieking wind, and black fog had been too much for their superst.i.tious natures, but made no impression on Brian, for the simple reason that he did not see why fog and wind should not come together. After he understood their fears better he shamed them into savage energy by his laughter, and since the broken-backed man had gone overboard, took his sweep and set his muscles to work.

They made s.h.i.+ft to keep the craft before the wind, but presently Brian found that half the men's fear sprang from the fact that the fog and snow blinded them, shutting out the land, and that the s.h.i.+fting wind had completely bewildered them. When he asked for their compa.s.s, their leader grunted:

"No need have we for a compa.s.s on this boat, Brian Buidh, save when warlocks turn the fog and wind upon us. I warrant that were it not for the fog, we would be safe in port ere now. As it is, the Virgin alone knows where we are or whither going."

"This is some of the Dark Master's wizardry," growled out another.

"Before we hung those men of his last night, they said that the winds would bear word of it to the dark one, _cead mile mollaght_ on him!"

"Add another thousand curses for me," ordered Brian, "but keep to the bailing, or I'll give you a taste of my foot! And no more talk of warlocks."

The five men fell silent, and indeed they needed all their breath, for the struggle was a desperate one. Instead of lessening, the fog only increased with time, and even Brian began to perceive the marvel in it as swirl after swirl of darkness swept over them. Yet, since the wind was from the east, he reasoned, it would naturally blow out the fog from the bogs and low lands. But this explanation was received in dour silence by the men, so he said no more.

There was no doubt that Cathbarr had reached home safely, since the night had been fair enough for the winter season. An hour pa.s.sed, and then another, still without a lessening of the eery storm; and the nerve of the seamen was beginning to give way under the strain, when the helmsman let out a wild yell:

"A light ahead! A beacon!"

The rowers twisted about with shouts of joy, and Brian perceived a faint, ruddy light against the sky. Also, the fog began to lessen somewhat; and upon making out that the beacon undoubtedly came from a high tower or crag, the shout pa.s.sed around that they had headed back to Gorumna with the s.h.i.+fting wind.

This heartened them all greatly, the more so since the gale drove them straight onward toward the beacon. The fog closed down again, but the ruddy glare pierced through it; and of a sudden there was no more fog about them--only a blinding thick snow, which made all things grotesque.

Then two more beacons were made out, lower than the first, and the men yelled joyously that fires had been lighted on either side the harbor to guide them in. And so they had been, but otherwise than the men thought.

Half frozen with the cold, they drove on through the snow and spray until at length they swept in between the guiding fires and scanned the sh.o.r.es for landing. Then the snow ceased, though the hurricane howled down behind them with redoubled fury; and as they floated in against a low, rocky sh.o.r.e, silence of wild consternation fell on them all. For they had come to Bertragh Castle, and fifty feet away a score of men were waiting, while others were running down with torches.

Even in that moment of terrible dismay, Brian noted their muskets, and how the lighted matches flared like fireflies in the wind.

"Trapped!" groaned one of the men, and they would have rowed out again into the teeth of the storm had not Brian stayed them.

"No use, comrades. They have muskets, and there are cannon up above. Row in, and if we must die, then let us die like men and not cowards."

Seeing no help for it, the men growled a.s.sent, and they drifted slowly in, all standing ready with drawn swords, while Brian's Spanish blade flared in the prow. Then in the midst of the gathered men he saw a dark figure with hunched shoulders, sword in hand. As he turned to the seamen behind him, there was a glitter in his blue eyes colder than the icy blast behind them.

"There is the Dark Master, comrades! Let him be first to fall."

They drove up on the sh.o.r.e, and Brian leaped out, with the men behind him. Still the group above stood silent until the voice of O'Donnell sheared through the gale. "Fire, and drop Yellow Brian first."

So there was to be no word of quarter! As the thought shot like fire through Brian's mind, he leaped forward with a shout. A ragged stream of musketry broke out from the men gathered on the higher rocks, and he heard the bullets whistle. He paid no heed to the seamen who followed him, however. His eyes were fixed on the Dark Master's figure, and with only one thought in his mind he plunged ahead.

More and more muskets spattered out; a bullet splashed against his jack, and another; something caught his steel cap and tore it away, and a hot stab shot through his neck. But the group of men was only a dozen paces from him now, and a wild yell broke from his lips as he saw O'Donnell step forward to meet him.

Then only did he remember Turlough's speech on the day of that first meeting with the Dark Master--"The master of all men at craft and the match of most men at weapons"--and he knew that, despite the hunched shoulders, this O'Donnell must be no mean fighter. But the next instant he was gazing into the evil eyes, and their blades had crossed.

Flaming with his anger, Brian forced the attack savagely; then a sharp thrust against his jack showed him that O'Donnell was armed with a rapier, and he fell to the point with some caution. With the first moment of play, he knew that he faced a master of fence; yet almost upon the thought his blade ripped into the Dark Master's arm.

Involuntarily he drew back, but O'Donnell caught the falling sword in his left hand and lunged forward viciously. Just as the blades met again, Brian saw a match go to a musket barely six paces away. He whirled aside, but too late, for the musket roared out, and a drift of stars poured into his brain. Then he fell.

Like a flash the Dark Master leaped at the man who had fired and spitted him through the throat; the others drew back in swift terror, for O'Donnell was frothing at the mouth, and his face was the face of a madman. With a bitter laugh he turned and rolled Brian over with his foot. The five seamen had gone down under the bullets.

"He is only stunned," said Red Murrough. "Shall I finish it?"

"If you want to die with him, yes. Carry him in, and we will nail him up to the gates to-morrow."

And the clouds fell asunder, and the stars came out, cold and beautiful.

CHAPTER IX.

THE NAILING OF BRIAN.

Brian woke in darkness, with pain tearing at his head and heaviness upon his hands and feet. When he tried to put his hand to his head, that heaviness was explained; for he could not, and thick iron struck dull against stone.

He lay there, and thought leaped into his brain, and he felt very bitter of spirit, but chiefly for those men who had come with him, and because he had failed before the Dark Master's hand.

It was cold, bitterly cold, and thin snow lay around him, so that he knew that he was in some tower or prison that faced to the east. It was from that direction that the snow had driven, as he had sore cause to know, and he wondered if the Dark Master had had any hand in that driving. But this he was not to know for many days.

It was the cold which had awakened him from his unconsciousness, he guessed. By dint of s.h.i.+fting his position somewhat, he managed to get his back against a wall, and so got his hands to his head. In such fas.h.i.+on he made out that his hair was matted and frozen with blood, and his neck also, where a bullet had plowed through the muscles on the right side. His head-wound was no more than a jagged tear which had split half his scalp, but had not hurt the bone, as he found after some feeling. Then he dropped his hands again, for the chains that bound him to the wall were very heavy. It must be night, for light would come where snow had come, and there was no light.

Now, having found that he was not like to die, at least from his wounds, he set about stretching to lie down again, and found some straw on the floor. He drew it up with his feet and gathered it about him; it was dank and smelled vilely, but at the least it gave his frozen body some warmth, so that he fell asleep after a time.

When he wakened again, it was to find men around him and a narrow strip of cold sunlight coming through a high slit in the wall of his prison.

From the sound of breakers that seemed to roar from below him, he conjectured that he was in a sea-facing tower of the castle, in which he was right.

The men, who were led by Red Murrough, gave him bread and meat and wine, but they offered no word and would answer no questions. So he ate and drank, and felt life and strength creeping back into his bones. He concluded that it must be the day after his arrival.

Now Red Murrough beckoned to the h.o.a.ry old seneschal, whose red-rimmed eyes glittered evilly. The old man shook his keys and stooped over Brian, unlocking the hasp which bound him to the wall-ring. The oppressive silence of these men struck a chill through Brian, but he came to his feet readily enough as Murrough jerked his shoulder.

He followed out into a corridor, and the men closed around him, going with him down-stairs and along other pa.s.sageways. Brian wondered as to his fate and what manner of death he was going to die; yet it seemed to him that death was an impossible and far-off thing where he was concerned.

He expected no less than death from the Dark Master, but at the same time it was very hard to believe that he was going to that fate. He was by no means afraid to die, but he felt that he would like to see the Bird Daughter once more. Also, he had always thought of fate as coming to him suddenly and swiftly in battle or foray; and to be deliberately done to death in cold blood by hanging or otherwise was not as he would have wished.

"At least," he thought without any great comfort, "Cathbarr and Turlough will avenge me on the Dark Master--though I had liefer be living when that was done!"

In one of the larger and lower corridors they came on two men bearing a body, sewed for burial. Murrough stopped his party and growled out something.

"It is the _seanachie_," answered one of the bearers. "Since the Dark Master struck him yester-morn he has not spoken, and he died last night."

Upon this Red Murrough crossed himself, as did the rest, muttered into his tangle of red beard, and motioned Brian forward.

This wider pa.s.sage gave through a doorway upon the great hall. There was no dais, but the Dark Master was seated before the huge fireplace, his wolf-hound crouched down at his side. The hall was pierced near the roof with openings, and lower down with loopholes, so that when the sun shone outside it was bright enough.

Red Murrough led Brian forward, the clank of the heavy chain-links echoing hollowly through the place, but O'Donnell Dubh did not look up until the two men stood a scant four paces from him. Then his head came out from between his rounded shoulders and his eyes spat fire at Brian.