He was soon at Boyle, in the present county of Roscommon, where he went into camp near the beautiful abbey, whose ruins are still the admiration of antiquarians. Thence, he marched northward through the passes of the Corslibh, or Curlew, Mountains, bent upon penetrating into Ulster. But, in a heavily timbered ravine, he was fallen upon by the fierce clansmen of Red Hugh O’Donnell, commanded by their fiery chief in person. When the English heard the terrible war-cry of “O’Donnell Aboo!” “O’Donnell to Victory”) echoing along the pass, they knew their hour had come. However, they met their fate like brave men, worthy of their gallant commander, and fought desperately, although in vain. They were soon totally broken and fell in heaps under the stalwart blows of the Clan O’Donnell. General Clifford and his second in command, Sir Henry Ratcliffe, were killed, and their infantry, unable to stem the tide of battle, fled in disorder, carrying with them the cavalry, under General Jephson, a cool commander who displayed all the qualities of a good soldier although completely overmatched. Had he not gallantly covered the retreat, hardly a man of the English infantry would have reached Boyle in safety. But the valor of Jephson did not extend to all of his men, some of whom abandoned the field rather precipitately. The English historian, Moryson, excuses them on the ground that “their ammunition was all spent.” Sligo, the key of North Connaught, fell to O’Donnell, as one result of this sharp engagement. The defeat and death of Clifford would seem to have utterly demoralized Essex. He again hesitated to advance against O’Neill, and, instead of doing so, weakly sought a parley with his able enemy. O’Neill agreed to the proposal, and they met near Dundalk, on the banks of a river and in presence of their chief officers. The Irish general, with chivalrous courtesy, spurred his charger half-way across the stream, but Essex remained on the opposite bank. This, however, did not prevent the two leaders from holding a protracted conversation, in the course of which the wily O’Neill completely outwitted the English peer. They called five officers on both sides into the conference, and O’Neill repeated the terms he offered after the victory of Clontibret, in 1595. The Englishman said he did not think them extravagant, but his sincerity was never tested. Soon afterward, angered by an epistolary outburst from the old queen, he threw up his command, and returned to the London court, where Elizabeth swore at him, ordered him under arrest, had him tried for treason, and, finally, beheaded—the only cruel act of her stormy life she ever repented of. The axe that severed the head of Essex from his body left a scar in Elizabeth’s withered heart that never healed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER X King Philip Sends Envoys to O’Neill—The Earl of Mountjoy Lord Deputy