And Tempus Londinus was exceeding wroth, and sent for Judas, surnamed Dublinus. But the heart of Judas was filled with fear, so that he repented him of what he had done, and wandered afar off, sending unto Tempus and his high priests a message, saying, “Verily, I am a sinner, and have led a mighty prince into error. The sword which should have destroyed Carolus, surnamed Patriotus, was of a truth poisoned, but the poison lurks in the hilt, not in the point, of the weapon. If my lord falls sick thereof, let him not blame his servant Judas, who was tempted by the promise of great riches. And where Judas goes, let no man follow.” And the people clamoured for vengeance upon Judas and the hunters were set upon the track of the betrayer and he fell into their hands. But when they took their eyes from him, he sprang into the outermost darkness, and the inhabitants of the earth knew him no more. And Tempus Londinus was in his turn grievously sick. But as for Carolus Patriotus, he grew mightier than ever, and there was rejoicing in Erinia when he triumphed over his enemies. CHAPTER IV. But although this Carolus Patriotus was thus allegorically announced to be the victor, his country still suffered for a long time at the hands of its rulers. Disaffection and jealousy, increased in many places by the disinclination of the discontented ones to relieve themselves honourably of their burdens, caused certain practices to arise in Erinia or Ireland, which only aggravated the reigning misery. A custom called “boycotting” prevailed, whereby all those who were suspected or proved to be unpatriotic were deprived of all communication with those who might possibly be induced to do business with them. People caught conveying food or other necessaries to boycotted persons were ruthlessly shot, and very often horrible cruelties were perpetrated upon harmless cattle, in order to show that their owners had fallen under the ban. Morality became a thing unknown in the country. Farms and houses were rented from landholders, who had no other source of income, by people who meant to live upon the produce of the land, but who were resolved not to pay anything for the privilege. This was accounted quite an honourable thing to do, and the worst crime of which an Irish farmer could be accused of being guilty was “paying his rent.” Murder was an excusable necessity, but rent-paying was a crime punishable by death. Hence landlords found no encouragement to prove themselves deserving of confidence. Whole estates went to rack and ruin. The really earnest reformers found it impossible to fight longer against the prevailing misery, and emigrated in large numbers, so that the country at last fell into a state of complete anarchy.