“Do you know, or did you hear, what Sir Nicholas Malby did in respect of Grace O’Malley, after she had been delivered up to him?”
“I was one of his guard,” said the man who acted as spokesman for the twain, “when she was brought before him. Sir Nicholas eyed her with great sternness; albeit it was easy to see that he was well-pleased to have her in his power, for she had wrought the English terrible injuries in Galway, and had set him at defiance. However, she did not quail nor humble herself, but bore herself like a princess, as, they say, she is.”
“What said Sir Nicholas?” asked I.
“He demanded of her many things,” replied the man, “but she would answer him not at all. Whereupon he was enraged against her, and gave orders that the city gallows should be got ready forthwith, and that she should be hanged immediately.”
“Did she not speak even then?”
“No. She looked at him very calmly and tranquilly, like one, indeed, who had already tasted of the bitterness of death and had no fear of it. A strange woman, and a brave! But ’tis said she is a witch.”
“What happened after that?”
“We were leading her away to the square in which the gibbet stands, when Sir Nicholas called to us to come back, for he had changed his mind, as it now appeared. Said he to her, ’You will not dance in the air to-day, mistress, but I shall take good care that you dance not out of Limerick as you did out of Galway!’ But to what he alluded when he said that I know not. Thereafter she was cast into one of the dungeons of the place.”
“One of the dungeons?” asked I.
“Yes—there are several deep, dark dungeons below the gaol of Limerick, and she was thrust into one of these.”