"I did not come to eat or drink," said Brian sternly. "Also, I am weary of this talking. 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. "I will keep my honor, though I regret it later, Yellow Brian. Go, with your men. When next we meet your head shall grin over my gates."
"Thanks for so much," retorted Brian mockingly, though he drew a swift breath of relief. "My head serves me too well to render it easily. Slan leat, O'Donnell!"
"Slan leat," repeated the Dark Master and turned his back, gazing down at the fire.
Brian turned and strode down the hall, Cathbarr at his heels. When they reached the courtyard he found men saddling in haste, and an officer saluted him gravely.
"Two-score men are at your orders, Yellow Brian."
"Let them follow me," said Brian curtly. "And who quarrels with my men, dies."
To that there was no dispute. The drawbridge clanked down once more, Brian and Cathbarr mounted and rode out to where the thirty waited grimly, and after them came the forty men from the garrison. Cathbarr, who trusted the Dark Master little, set his ten axmen in the van, followed with Brian, and the sixty followed them into the night.