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Updated: May 3, 2025
So he ordered his ten Scots troopers in from the camp outside the walls, and the Dark Master sent for Brian to be identified. "I'll have you carried down," said Red Murrough on coming for him. "Play the part, ma boucal, and when these royalists get into their cups again they'll forget all that is in their heads. Here's a cup of wine before ye go, and another for myself. Slainte!"
"Nay, I come from farther than that," and to his surprise there was a mocking note in her voice, though it was weak. "That is a good horse of yours, ma boucal; he must trot sixteen miles to the hour, eh?" "All of that, mother," returned Brian, wondering if the old crone was out of her senses. "Was it you whom I heard wailing a moment ago? Where is your home?"
They had left Crusheen ten miles behind them on the fifth day, when Cathbarr laid his hand on Brian's knee and pointed to the left, where a hill rose against the sky. "Look there, boucal when the birds fly from the ceanabhan, seek for snakes!" Brian drew rein.
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