By this same parliament Kildare was attained—­rather late in the day—­on the ground of conspiracy, and sent prisoner to London.  He lay a year in prison, and was then brought to trial, and allowed to plead his own cause in the king’s presence.  The audacity, frank humour, and ready repartee of his great Irish subject seems to have made a favourable impression upon Henry, who must himself have had more sense of humour than English historians give us any impression of.  One of the principal charges against the earl was that he had burned the church at Cashel.  According to the account given in the Book of Howth he readily admitted the charge, but declared positively that he would never have thought of doing so had he not been solemnly assured that the archbishop was at the time inside it.  The audacity of this defence is not a little heightened by the fact that the archbishop in question was at the moment sitting in court and listening to it.

Advised by the king to provide himself with a good counsel, “By St. Bride”—­his favourite oath—­said he, “I know well the fellow I would have, yea, and the best in England, too!” Asked who that might be.  “Marry, the king himself.”  The note of comedy struck at the beginning of the trial lasted to the end.  The earl’s ready wit seems to have dumbfounded his accusers, who were not unnaturally indignant at so unlocked for a result.  “All Ireland,” they swore, solemnly, “could not govern the Earl of Kildare.”  “So it appears,” said Henry.  “Then let the Earl of Kildare govern all Ireland.”

Whether the account given by Irish historians of this famous trial is to be accepted literally or not, the result, at any rate, was conclusive.  The king seems to have felt, that Kildare was less dangerous as sheep-dog—­even though a head-strong one—­than as wolf, even a wolf in a cage.  He released him and restored him to his command.  Prince Henry, according to custom, becoming nominally Lord-Lieutenant, with Kildare as deputy under him.  The earl’s wife had lately died, and before leaving England he strengthened himself against troubles to come by marrying Elizabeth St. John, the king’s cousin, and having left his son Gerald behind as hostage for his good behaviour, sailed merrily home to Ireland.

Perkin Warbeck meanwhile had made another foray upon Munster, where he was supported by Desmond, and repulsed with no little ignominy by the townsfolk of Waterford; after which he again departed and was seen no more upon that stage.  Kildare—­whose own attainder was not reversed until after his arrival in Ireland—­presided over a parliament, one of whose first acts was to attaint Lord Barrymore and the other Munster gentlemen for their share in this rising.  He also visited Cork and Kinsale, leaving a garrison behind him; rebuilt several towns in Leinster which had been ruined in a succession of raids; garrisoned the borders of the Pale with new castles, and for the first time in its history brought ordnance into Ireland, which he employed in the siege of Belrath Castle.  A factor destined to work a revolution upon Irish traditional modes of warfare, and upon none with more fatal effect than upon the house of Fitzgerald itself.