On the 13th March, 1626, he ordered the eldest and youngest of Felim’s sons, Brian and Turlough, whom he described as “the most civilly bred of all his sons,” to be arrested as “dangerous conspirators.” They were kept prisoners in Dublin Castle for five months; and all the enginery of the State was employed to suborn witnesses against them. Neighbours were seized and subjected to torture. One Archer “was put naked on a burning gridiron and burnt with gunpowder under his buttocks and flanks, and at last suffered the strapado till he was forced to accuse the brothers.” Two poor wretches named Kavanagh yielded on the rack and consented to swear falsely; but, when their agonies ceased, they retracted. For this they were sentenced to death, and were offered “pardon” if they would repeat the “evidence” in court. Their constancy remained unshaken, and both were hanged. This shortage of perjurers led to a crisis. “True bills” on which Brian and Turlough could be arraigned had to be “found” by a Grand Jury. Being Wicklowmen, the brothers were ordered for trial to another venue. Carlow was as illegal as any, but the Grand Jurors there twice declined to find “true bills.” Twice were they brought up in batches to the Star Chamber in Dublin and fined, but twice they refused to yield. They would not “find” for any fining. Perhaps they recalled the reward meted out to the foreman of the Lifford Grand Jury, Sir Cahir O’Doherty, for declaring Hugh O’Neill an “outlaw” twenty years earlier. Thanks to their obstinacy, the brothers were set free, and Brian O’Byrne sailed in triumph for England. There he was received at Court, and on the 29th August, 1627, he secured two fresh Letters from Charles I. recognising the family title. Thus the warrants of three British Sovereigns—Elizabeth, James, and Charles—affirmed their rights. Still Falkland entertained no idea of being hindered by royal stumbling-blocks. The only effect of Brian’s success on his mind was to resolve him to a fiercer vendetta. This time he proceeded on a grand scale, and on the 2nd November, 1627, ordered Felim with his five sons (including Brian and Turlough) to be committed to prison in Dublin Castle. There they were loaded with irons, denied food for a long period, and were deprived of visits. The crime of which they were accused was that they had relieved a banished man named Kavanagh who returned home before his seven years of deportation had run out. This was true, but the man was unknown to them. Kavanagh had never been convicted, nor was he outlawed, and hospitality was merely given to a passing stranger. This was no offence, although it might be docketed in the twentieth century as “hostile association.”