As we approached the shoreline, Montmorency splashed forward to greet my father.
‘Lord King.’ He bowed from the waist. ‘You see, as promised.’ He turned, gesturing to the army plodding cautiously across the silty causeway. ‘I have brought you an army.’ My father seemed to acknowledge this.
Surprised at this, but conscious of avoiding ill feeling on campaign, Myler murmured under his breath, ‘By Christ, give me patience.’ I could see the sentiment was shared by FitzStephen and the other riders around me. He had been a rare sight yesterday when there was the chance of a fight. I heard their grumblings.
The Uí Chennselaig cavalry and their allies waited on the lip of the headland, closely watching the actions of their king. How he behaved would determine if they were to march with or against these Normans today. They would not have relished the prospect of fighting the glittering array of polished steel and well-formed ranks which faced them.
However, having spoken to Donal, my father made a great show of welcoming the Norman leaders. Dismounting, he embraced each in turn, starting with Montmorency, kissing each as an overt show of peace and that no harm should come to these men. Henceforth, they were allies.
I could see the horses of the cavalry on the hill sensing the release of tension in their riders’ bodies. Several dropped their heads and began grazing the sparse salty grass. They ambled down the slope, and two armies mixed along the shore as the remaining Normans struggled through the muddy causeway, cursing in strange tongues, their sentiments clear to the Irish, who helped the heavily laden foot soldiers to the shore.
My father kissed me and held me in a long embrace. Releasing me he said, ‘Aoife, mo chailín. Go raigh maith agat. Thank you.’ His eyes glistened. ‘I have missed you. Welcome home,’ he said quietly.
‘Thank you, father.’ I kissed the cheek of the father I knew. Surprised, he looked at me. His fierce dark eyes, sunk in the deep hollows of his furrowed face, hardened by battle and a life under the elements in the saddle. A face I had seen change with life’s each trial carving its own mark. But it was not he who had changed now. It was me.
I knew what I would have done and, what’s more, what I would do to Montmorency, when the time came—and all for my family. Purity, innocence, virtue—what passes for honourable ways are indulgences when your blood pulls. What other unpalatable choices would I make? Who would judge me? Was failure to secure the interests of our family and our people the ultimate betrayal? Smaller sins, some not so small, were necessities, unavoidable. As said, clean hands or clean sheets seldom grace a throne.
There was a hint of the shape of the man behind the eyes now. A shadowy form I could all but recognise. Vague now . . . translucent, like half-polished steel, but more vivid than before. A reflection perhaps? My destiny?
A barely perceptible nod from him. A recognition. Some things were best left unsaid; private sins should remain so. Putting words on them gives them edges that can hurt. We must each carry their burden alone.
Still looking at me, he placed his hand on my shoulder and seemed to struggle to find words. ‘Tell me of your mother, Aoife? I hope she passed peacefully.’ I knew he would have heard of her death these past months now, but I was taken aback at the pain that blazed briefly in his eyes, a momentary glimpse of the grief he held at her loss.
‘Did she suffer?’ he asked, and I could see the fear in his face at what he might hear.
‘I was with her, Father.’ I considered my words carefully. Unwilling to speak untruths but seeing his grief, I wanted to spare him. ‘In the end, she parted peacefully and contented, holding my hand.’ This was true.
I could see the relief releasing him somewhat. ‘Thank you, Aoife.’ He hesitated as if measuring his words. ‘I loved her dearly’ was all he said, staring across the sea to her resting place as if reaching out to her. I believed him.
I watched him, lost in his memories of a love of which I knew little but was starting to comprehend.
‘Father,’ I said, bringing him back. ‘She spoke fondly of you.’ I paused, unsure if I should speak further of that time long past. Deciding, I continued. ‘She told me of Dearbhail, of what happened. That you did not abduct or abuse her.’
He turned to me now, listening intently. ‘Why did you not say?’ I asked. At Cill Osnadh, when O’Rourke humiliated you and the Brehon, Cormac, placed the fine on you? Why did you not say more?’
He sighed and gave a barely noticeable shake of his head.
‘Aoife. That day they would have had our blood or our wealth,’ he said. ‘Cormac knows well what happened, I just had to remind him. I said enough to rile O’Rourke’s anger and to let Cormac place a ferocious fine on me to appease O’Rourke. He was insufferable, I know, but we got away with our lives that day.’
I stared at him, dumbfounded. He smiled. ‘Aoife, needs must. Like you now, it’s less about what I want or what’s good for me than what’s right for them.’ He swept his arm broadly over the teeming strand. ‘They are your people, your family. This is your land,’ he said, nodding to the broad green expanse stretching north from where we stood.
‘Whatever it takes, no matter how unpleasant or difficult it might be, you must act in their interest. That way you will secure your own.’ He held my gaze as if to see my soul to know I understood my responsibility. Eventually, seemingly satisfied, he nodded.
‘Good. But now we have matters to attend to,’ he finished, and turned back to the beach. I stood there, watching him retreat along the shimmering sand as the tide gurgled rhythmically on the shingle, a man I was gradually coming to know.
Recovering myself, I ran to catch him before we joined the others, who had gathered behind a bramble thicket for some shelter from the persistent wind.
‘Father, now that they are here, we must march straight to Osraige, to free Eanna. Mac Giolla Patrick will not harm him now. He will negotiate his release if we are quick, before he can be joined by O’Connor and O’Rourke.’
He stopped and looked at me. ‘Aoife, I suspect you are right in that. But these men’—he gestured to FitzStephen, Montmorency and the other Normans waiting for us to join them—‘these men have more to concern them than Eanna. I must give them the taste of the spoils of war quickly to whet their appetites.’
I knew he was right. FitzStephen and Myler’s other uncle, Maurice FitzGerald, had been promised the lordship of Wexford, a lucrative prize; the taxes and customs levies from such a prosperous trading town would make them wealthy. Even though Eanna was now in more danger than at any moment, there needs had to be satisfied first.
‘So we must move quickly, take Wexford and move immediately on Osraige to free Eanna. It’s the only way, Aoife.’ He walked on.
We joined the others. It was quickly decided that we would march to Wexford, twenty miles to the northeast. Although Waterford was an equal distance, it had better defences and a larger garrison. It would best be tackled with a larger force than we had gathered around us today. Besides, FitzStephen rightly pointed out that leaving such an important post as Wexford in hostile hands in our rear was not prudent. It was also agreed, at my father’s insistence, that we would not dally in Wexford but would assault Mac Giolla Patrick in Osraige without delay. He too wanted his son back in the safety of Ferns.
Early success would also hasten others to join us and discourage our enemies, so orders were given that camp would be broken immediately after the men had eaten. FitzStephen insisted on this delay, knowing a hard day’s marching and fighting lay ahead; there was nothing like an empty belly to dampen a man’s enthusiasm for battle. We would reach Wexford by noon.
As our army marched slowly towards the town, we were, as expected, approached by several bodies of men from some of the lower families of South Leinster wishing to join our ranks. Known to my father, they had been, in better times, his vassals, who had then abandoned him to his fate after our defeat at Ferns and our hurried flight to Wales. However, seeing my father’s return at the head of a strong army, they judged that his fortunes had turned and unashamedly offered their support and expected to be welcomed into his army. And they were.
Chapter FifteenA RACE AGAINST TIME
Wexford
May 1169
The Norsemen of Wexford had long resented the oversight of my father as king of Leinster. There was only ever a begrudging recognition of his authority—or any authority, for that matter—on the island. Their origins, although long past, were Scandinavian, and while their ways intertwined ever more with ours as the years passed, they retained a fiercely independent spirit that was first to abandon any subordination to the Leinster kings when the opportunity arose. Not seven years past, Donal had led a force to their strong stone walls to call to order some overly assertive Norse Tangs, forcing them by negotiation to temper their ambitions and to continue their recognition of my father as their overlord.
My father’s current difficulties were their opportunity, and they had, as expected, taken the opportunity to forsake his authority once again. Being fully aware of our landing and the approach of our army and ever confident in their superior numbers, they had decided to meet us to settle the matter in an open field approximately a mile southwest of the town.
As we approached we could see their force, a darker mass gathered on the rising land of the low hill that lay between us and the town itself. They had chosen the ground well, with the slope below them and a small stream to their left flank that gave out to open marshy ground, which would impede any cavalry from that approach. The dense woodlands on their right flank served the same purpose, which would ultimately force our attack into a frontal assault into their well-arranged shield wall. Several ranks deep, the Norsemen knew they could withstand any assault from an Irish cavalry. They would wait behind the impenetrable layer of overlapping shields, gradually exhausting our horsemen on their bristling spears, glinting ominously in the midday sun. Then, advancing slowly down the hill, they could realistically anticipate victory.
But that was not what confronted them today. Without fuss, FitzStephen calmly proceeded at the head of the column to within five hundred paces and surveyed their ranks. He then ordered the army to assume the same formation as the previous evening, except the archers were to form up in front of the foot soldiers at two hundred paces from the Norse shield wall. The twin ranks of the soldiers were placed twenty paces to their rear, with the Norman knights flanking them, ready to assail any horsemen who might ride from the Norsemen to interfere with the work of the archers. FitzStephen asked my father and Donal to form up behind them and to act as reserves when he requested their intervention, should it be necessary.
