‘Strongbow has forbidden it,’ I yelled. ‘His decision was to land at Bannow Bay in force. This plan is madness.’ I stood in front of him, demanding his attention. ‘You know they will never willingly let us back. They will turn south to Leinster with a vastly superior force and destroy us.’
Nothing from him, no reaction, as he stared into the fire. I pleaded now. ‘What about Eanna? You know what they will do.’
He gripped his tankard, mumbling and shaking his head. ‘I’m going,’ he said.
‘No, Strongbow has forbidden it,’ I repeated. ‘You have no authority to do this!’
‘Well, actually, m’lady, I think you’ll find you are mistaken in that belief,’ Sir Hervey interjected. ‘You see, in his absence, Strongbow gave me, his uncle, full authority to act as I see fit to look after his interests in matters concerning our campaign in Ireland.’
I looked to Myler, who with a nod of his head confirmed this to be true. However, I had no doubt that Strongbow was set against any foolhardy foray with an unprepared force. But with Strongbow in Germany, Sir Hervey could work his mischief.
‘It is my view that circumstances have changed considerably in Ireland, and I agree with your father’s wise judgement that we should move quickly to take advantage of the situation,’ he said.
‘Donal agrees with me, this is madness,’ I yelled, but I was fearful now. ‘Please, father, please—you mustn’t . . . please.’
‘I’m going.’ He stared sullenly into his tankard. ‘Now get out. Get out! Leave me!’ He staggered to his feet, his chair clattering to the ground behind him.
Panicking now, I turned to Myler; he took my hand, trying to calm me, but he was powerless in this. Sir Hervey had the authority of Strongbow, and no one would challenge that.
Desperate for a way out, I thought if I couldn’t persuade my father, I could scare him. Sober, he would understand that without a guard of Normans, he wouldn’t last a week. Our own kinsmen would see the hopelessness of his cause; it would be perilous for anyone to support him. In all likelihood, they would capture him and deliver him to O’Connor to garner his favour.
‘OK, go. Go to Ireland,’ I screamed. ‘But you can go alone, and you will be no threat to anyone. I can only hope they will take pity on you.’ I tried scorn. ‘Maybe they will put your eyes out and set you on the road, ridiculed and mocked by all.’ That silenced him, and he returned to his seat.
Then, regarding me coldly, Sir Hervey put in, ‘Ah, and that’s where you are wrong, m’lady.’ Moving to my father’s side, placing his hand on his shoulder, he continued: ‘Your father is planning to bring your younger brother Conor with him, to educate him in the ways of a king, I believe. Most admirable.’ He smirked.
Myler steadied me as my breath shallowed to a quickened rasp. I gripped his arm for support, feeling my stomach lurch. What was happening? How could this be? I would lose Conor too. But I could see the sickening sense in it: with no army, he would use his son’s life instead. Conor would be bargained, given hostage for support or to buy off an enemy, with little chance of surviving if his life depended on my father’s word.
‘No. No,’ I whimpered quietly and fell to my knees. ‘No. Please, no,’ I said, pleading now.
Moving towards me, as if to assist, Sir Hervey said. ‘Really, m’lady. I think you are overreacting . . .’
‘Leave her,’ Myler said angrily, almost pushing him away. He helped me to my feet, supporting me with his strong arm around my waist. I looked to my father and saw his silent intent, clouded with shame. Had he dispensed with the last vestiges of decency, of the love of a father, of the father’s burning will, etched in our very core, to care for his child above all else? He remained silent. I watched as if the very humanity drained from the man, like the living blood, to soil the tiled floor of his chamber.
Conor would go, but if he must, so would I. And Donal would too. We would go to protect Conor. I told him this.
He didn’t react at first but looked to Montmorency, who, appearing concerned, objected strongly, pointing out how dangerous it was for a woman. It was a plan fraught with risk, not least for my virtue should we be captured. And he, for one, would not wish that horrible fate upon me. The vile appetites of animals of men satisfied on such saintly, innocent flesh.
He looked me in the eye as he said this, both of us seeing him in the castle cellar assaulting Alice. I then understood how people could be driven to commit great cruelty on another human being. I shivered at what I was capable of at that moment.
‘Strongbow’s betrothed,’ he continued, wringing his hands. Then he added, ‘M’lady, you could not possibly go without a proper guard. I would not countenance it,’ he objected. ‘What can be done? Who could possibly protect you?’ he finished and looked at Myler.
His intent was clear. He was manipulating Myler into accompanying us, thereby providing the necessary protection for my father. If it didn’t end well, so be it. Myler’s demise would mean one less troublesome Geraldine for him to worry about. I would discover in time his more depraved motivation for seeking to harm Myler.
For me, if Myler was to accompany us, it was welcome. My fondness for Myler had grown, and we drew ever closer with each day, tumbling headlong and willingly into each other’s hearts. Despite the burden of loss which lingered ever present, ebbing and flowing through each day, my spirits lifted when I saw Myler. Without him, my thoughts would drift unbidden to him, lightening those moments with a ripple of pleasure that would sweep over me, gurgle away and then surge forward, washing my more sombre moods in a muted joy.
Myler stepped forward. ‘I would consider it an honour to accompany you, Lord King, on your journey.’ He understood Sir Hervey’s intent, and while he despised the man, he knew this journey was perilous. The risk of ambush, betrayal or capture was real. He had little regard for my father; his concern was for me should we be attacked. He could not contemplate my death, but a worse fate would befall me if I fell into the hands of O’Rourke. He would not waste the opportunity of humiliating the daughter of Diarmuit MacMurrough.
‘With an adequate body of men-at-arms which I can muster, I can ensure your safety, if you will permit me,’ he said to my father. For his part, he looked to Sir Hervey for assurance on Myler’s suggestion.
‘An excellent suggestion, Sir Myler,’ he said. ‘I see no real objection.’ Clearly having already considered Myler’s use in this, he went on to explain how Myler would not be acting on Strongbow’s instruction or with his knowledge. King Henry, who was not yet willing to let Strongbow sail to Ireland, had given his permission for others to offer assistance to my father, should they so wish. He could have no real objection to Myler going, who, although clearly in Strongbow’s camp, was acting of his own accord. Strongbow’s continued absence in Germany, at the wedding of Henry’s daughter to the Saxon king, would provide him ample protection from the king’s displeasure. He was very confident that Strongbow would have no objections, considering that the safety of the princess was also at stake.
‘Indeed, it is most honourable of you, Sir Myler . . . selfless, I’d go so far as to say. Wouldn’t you agree, m’lady?’ he sneered, turning to me. ‘Why hadn’t I thought of that! An excellent suggestion.’ He nodded to my father, who grunted his agreement.
However, my father insisted that Myler ready his men immediately. With the summer drawing to a close, the autumn seas would soon rise, and if he was to gather a force to his cause in Ireland, it must be done before the winter came. He would use the dead of winter to fortify his stronghold and ready them for war when the campaigning season began in the spring of next year.
Myler described how he would need at least three months to make the necessary arrangements, recruiting the knights, archers and foot soldiers. They would need to be provisioned and equipped with arms to carry them through to the spring, when they assumed the main force of Strongbow’s army would land. An adequate force to mount a stout defence of Ferns would be wise in the meantime. Boats would also need to be requisitioned with trustworthy and tight-lipped sea masters who would not betray their plans to listening ears in the ports of Wales or Ireland. There was a lot to do.
‘No!’ my father yelled. ‘We go now, before the end of the summer. I’m not waiting any longer.’
‘Lord King,’ Myler pleaded. ‘I can’t possibly assemble a force that could protect you for the winter in such a short time.’ He looked to Sir Hervey, appealing for him to speak some sense to my father.
‘No!’ my father repeated. Sir Hervey remained silent, calculating.
‘It’s not possible, Lord King,’ Myler insisted.
‘You have one month,’ Sir Hervey said.
‘What? One month!’ Myler rounded on Sir Hervey. ‘You know damn well it’s not possible.’ He paused. Getting no reaction from Sir Hervey, he continued.
‘In that time, I can barely assemble a bodyguard,’ he said. Sir Hervey remained impassive.
‘I’ll have my own men with me,’ my father said.
‘Father, you know that won't be enough,’ I pleaded.
‘I will not be able to defend Ferns if we are attached. I will not win a fight if we come up against any force at all. It’s suicidal,’ Myler said.
‘So be it.’ Sir Hervey shrugged. ‘Sir Myler, if you are uncomfortable with undertaking the protection of the king and Princess Aoife, I’m sure we can find some other brave knight to accept the challenge?’
