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Updated: May 1, 2025
Now fulfil your pact, Dark Master, or be shamed before all your men." "Are you for Royalist or Parliament?" asked O'Donnell, as if he had not heard. "I am for Brian Buidh." "Take two-score men and begone," and the other rose. To his surprise, Brian found that, despite the hunched back, O'Donnell was as tall as himself. The black eyes flamed out at him for an instant.
"News?" repeated the Dark Master softly. "And of what nature, Colonel Vere?" "Why, of one Brian Buidh, or Yellow Brian." At this the Dark Master began to finger the Spanish blade he had taken from Brian, and for a second Vere was very near to death, had he known it. "What of him, Colonel Vere?"
Now, Brian Buidh, death is hard upon you, and neither an easy nor a swift one. Before you die there are two things which I would know from your lips." Brian looked at him, but without speaking. The Dark Master had thrust out his head, his hand still lingering on the wolfhound's neck, and his pallid face, drooping mustache, and high brow were very evil to gaze upon.
Brian, eying that thin-nostriled, cruel nose, and the undershot jaw of the man, read no mercy there. "First, who are you, Brian Buidh? Are you an O'Neill, as that ring of yours would testify, or are you an O'Malley come down from the western isles?" At that Brian laughed out harshly. "Ask those servants of which you boast, Dark Master.
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 "
The scene is laid in Ireland during Cromwell's time, when the whole country was in arms for or against the various parties. Brian Buidh, or Brian of the Yellow Hair, himself The O'Neill, comes home from Spain, where he had been brought up to fight for his country.
"Yes," smiled the giant into his beard, his deep-throated bull's voice rumbling through their tiny room. "But it is in my mind that there are stranger days ahead of us, Brian Buidh. A witch-woman once told me that I would meet my death from water and fire together, brother, in a cause not mine own." "You are not bound to my service," replied Brian.
Perhaps he was not the only one who knew this, for as Lame Art rowed out with his cousin, the latter nodded back at the tower. "What think you of this ally, Art Bocagh? Could he be truly the Earl's grandson?" "I know not," grunted the other. "But I do not care whether he be Brian Buidh or Brian O'Neill or Brian the devil he is such a man as I would fain see sitting in Gorumna Castle, Shaun!"
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.
The old woman spat forth the word with a cackle of laughter. "Oh, you cannot fool the Black Woman, Yellow Brian! Listen Brian your name is, and Yellow Brian your name shall be indeed, since this is your will. Owen Ruadh O'Neill lies at the O'Reilly stead at Lough Oughter, but you shall never ride to war behind him, Brian Buidh! No the Black Woman tells you, and the Black Woman knows.
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