to him after he had been chained again in his
tower-room and left alone.

He was sorry for this, because he thought that he had died under the
iron. He found a pitcher of water beside him, and after drinking a
little he spent the rest in washing out the salt from his flesh, though
every motion was terrible in its torture. So great was the pain that
gasping sobs shook him, though he stared up dry-eyed at the stones, and
a great desire for death came upon him.

"Slay me, oh God!" he groaned, shuddering again in his anguish. "Slay
me, for I am helpless and cannot slay myself!"

As if in answer, there came a soft laugh from somewhere overhead, and
the voice of the Dark Master.

"There is no God in Bertragh Castle save O'Donnell, Brian Buidh!"

The blasphemy shocked him into his senses, which had wandered. Now he
knew that from some hidden place the Dark Master was watching him and
listening for his ravings, and upon that Brian sternly caught his lips
together and said no more, though he prayed hard within himself. A cloak
had been laid near-by him, and when he had covered himself somewhat
against the cold, though with great pain in the doing, he lay quiet.

The cold crept into him and for a space he was seized with chills that
sent new thrills of pain through his burned body, for he could not
repress them. After a time he relapsed slowly into numbed
unconsciousness, waking from time to time, and so the hours dragged away
until the night came.

Then men brought him more food and wine and straw, and he managed to
sleep a bit during the darkness, in utmost misery. But after the day had
come, and more wine had stirred his blood redly, Murrough fetched him to
his feet and bade him follow. Brian did it, though walking was agony,
for his pride was stronger even than his torture.

He was halted in the courtyard, found the Dark Master and his men
gathered there, and knew that more torture was to come upon him. After a
single scornful glance the Dark Master ordered him triced up to a post,
which was done. Brian saw a man standing by with a long whip, but gained
a brief respite as the drawbridge was lowered to admit a messenger
mounted on a shaggy hill-pony. O'Donnell bade him make haste with his
errand.

"The word has come, master, that five hundred of Lord Burke's pikemen
are on the road from Galway and will be close by within a day or so."

"And what of Cathbarr of the Ax?" queried the Dark Master. Brian's
heart caught