Early in the summer of 1534 a report reached Ireland that Kildare was to be beheaded, and his son and brother arrested. A poor retainer of his house living near Kilcullen is said to have brought to Lord Offaly from London a little silver-gilt heart and a pair of black dice, with a verbal message from his father bidding him not to trust the Irish Council, but to keep out of the way lest he should lose life and liberty. About the same time a private letter from Thomas Cannon, who had been in Skeffington's service, confirmed the sinister rumours already afloat. In days when there were no newspapers such letters were handed about freely, and this one fell into the hands of a priest who read English with difficulty, and who put it aside until he had time to spell out its meaning. A retainer of Offaly's, who chanced to stay the night in the priest's house, used the letter as a shoe-horn, and forgot to withdraw it. Undressing in the evening he found the paper, read it out of curiosity, and found to his dismay that it announced Kildare's death. He at once took the fatal missive to James Delahide, who carried it to the Vice-Deputy. Delahide was one of those whose advice Kildare had directed his son to take: he now counselled him to rebel and to avenge his father's death.[127] [Sidenote: His son rebels.] Though his death was at hand Kildare still lived, and there is no reason to suspect foul play: he was old and suffering from wounds, and confinement or anxiety may well have hastened his end. But his impetuous son assumed the worst, and at once prepared for war. His Irish connections O'Neill and O'Connor approved his resolution; but the Earl of Desmond, Sir Thomas Eustace of Baltinglass, Fitzmaurice of Kerry, Fleming, Lord of Slane, and most of the Anglo-Irish well-wishers of his House, counselled prudence. Lord Chancellor Cromer, a grave and learned divine, gave similar advice. But Rehoboam would not be persuaded. On St. Barnabas' Day he rode through Dublin with 140 armed retainers, each wearing a silken fringe on his helmet, a mode of decoration which gave Offaly the name by which he is best remembered. Passing through Dame's Gate the Geraldines forded the Liffey and rode to St. Mary's Abbey, where he had summoned a meeting of the Council. No sooner had the Deputy taken the chair than his armed followers invaded the council-chamber, and waited with ill-concealed impatience while their leader made a speech, in which he declared himself no longer King Henry's officer, and called on all who hated cruelty and tyranny to join him in open war. He then tendered the sword of state to the Primate, who besought him with tears in his eyes not to do so mad and wicked an act. 'They are not yet born,' he said, 'that shall hereafter feel the smart of this uproar.' The Chancellor's speech was probably unintelligible to most of the intruders; and the effect of it was at once dispelled by an Irish bard named Nelan,