Brian saw that the Dark Master was only playing with the giant, for well he knew that Vere wanted to take him back to Galway whole and sound. But Cathbarr knew nothing of this, and as the whole terrible trickery flashed over his simple mind he lifted a face that was dark with blood and passion.
"Do not play with me!" he cried out, his voice deep and angry. "Loose him!"
Then O'Donnell leaned back in his chair, laughing with his men, and waved a careless hand toward Vere.
"He is not mine," he grinned. "I have given him to the royalists, for hanging at Galway. You, however, are now mine to slay."
Whether the Dark Master indeed meant to break his plighted faith, Brian never knew. Cathbarr took a single step forward, his curly beard writhing and standing out, and his whole face so terrible to look on that all laughter was stricken dead in the hall.
"You lied to me!" he cried hoarsely. "You lied to me!"
O'Donnell laughed.
"Aye, Cathbarr. Your master goes back to Galway to be hung—he is out of my hands, but you are in them. However, since I have passed my word on your safe-conduct, I think that I may hold to it."
But the giant had not heard him. Throwing back his head, he gave one deep groan of anguish, and his shoulders began to move very slowly as his chest heaved up. All the while his eyes were fixed on the Dark Master, while the whole hall watched him in awe; not even Brian or O'Donnell himself guessed what that slow movement of Cathbarr's body boded.
"Best put chains upon him, Murrough," said the Dark Master, his teeth shining under his drooping mustache.