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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Just this, Yellow Brian," and Murrough stroked his matted red beard easily. "O'Donnell will make a good thing out of handing you over to the royalists, who mean to hang you in style, it seems. Now, it is in my mind that it might advantage you somewhat if you were not moved thence for a few days indeed, you might even escape, for I think you are not without friends." "Eh?"
He proceeds to torture him fiendishly, ending by nailing him to the castle door by one hand. Just then Colonel James Vere, British officer, arrives, and demands Brian in order to hang him comfortably in Galway. Red Murrough, O'Donnell's lieutenant, agrees, for the promise of ten English pounds, to pretend that Brian is worse off than he is so that he may take longer to recover.
The witty Lord Ross, having spent all his money in London, set out for Ireland, in order to recruit his purse. On his way, he happened to meet with Sir Murrough O'Brien, driving for the capital in a handsome phaëton, with six prime dun-coloured horses. "Sir Murrough," exclaimed his lordship, "what a contrast there is betwixt you and me!
Smiling evilly, the Dark Master joined him in the toast to Brian, and a yell of delight broke from the crowd as they caught the jest and joined in. O'Donnell was just motioning Murrough to have Brian taken away, when there came a sudden interruption, as a man hastened up the hall. It was one of Vere's pikemen. "There is a party of four horsemen just outside our camp, colonel.
Red Murrough, O'Donnell's lieutenant, agrees, for the promise of ten English pounds, to pretend that Brian is worse off than he is so that he may take longer to recover. Cathbarr comes in, and offers to take Brian's place if O'Donnell will release Brian; and when the Black Master makes fun of him, he goes berserk and cleans out the hall, escaping with Brian to Nuala.
Upon this Red Murrough crossed himself, as did the rest, muttered into his tangle of red beard, and motioned Brian forward. This wider passage 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.
"Murrough, have men sent to meet these royalists with food and wines, and if they are bound hither we will entreat them softly and send them home again empty. Now let us enjoy Brian Buidh a while though he has stood up but poorly. It is in my mind that we will nail him up to-morrow." With that Brian felt the whip stroking across his naked back.
In one fight, early in the war, they cut off three hundred heads, and laid them before Mac Murrough; who turned them every one up with his hands, rejoicing, and, coming to one which was the head of a man whom he had much disliked, grasped it by the hair and ears, and tore off the nose and lips with his teeth. You may judge from this, what kind of a gentleman an Irish King in those times was.
"I had not thought you loved me so much," and despite his agony Brian forced out a bitter laugh. "Not I! Faith, I had liefer see you nailed but a service may be paid for." "I have no money," Brian closed his eyes wearily. "No, but you have friends," and Murrough leaned forward.
He saw Vere break into a sudden coarse laugh, and a great light of evil triumph shot across O'Donnell's face. Then the Dark Master gained his feet, gathered his cloak about his hunched shoulders, and sent Murrough to stand guard over Brian with a pistol and to shoot if he spoke out. "Surely he cannot be going back on his word, passed before so many men?" thought Brian bitterly.
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