Insurrection: Renegade [02]

RENEGADE

ROBYN YOUNG

www.hodder.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Hodder & Stoughton

An Hachette UK company

Copyright © Robyn Young 2012

The right of Robyn Young to be identified as the Author of the Work

has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

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imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious or are historical figures

whose words and actions are fictitious. Any resemblance to real

persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 444 71513 2

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As usual I have a host of people to applaud, so please bear with me. First, thanks go to Donal O’Sher and Ann McCarthy in Waterville, County Kerry, for the unforgettable boat trip to Church Island and the wealth of local knowledge they were willing to share. Many thanks also to the helpful steward at St Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral, Armagh, and the Reverend Ted Flemming for information on the building’s history. A general round of appreciation goes to all the knowledgeable curators and guides I spoke to at historic sites across Ireland and Scotland, with special thanks to the usher at Westminster Abbey, who let me into the shrine of Edward the Confessor.

I am, once again, indebted to historian Marc Morris for reading the manuscript so thoroughly and bringing his considerable knowledge to bear upon it. His red pen is very much appreciated. Indeed, I should thank all the historians whose books I have pored over, dog-eared, scrawled on and gleaned so much from while working on this trilogy. Any mistakes that remain are my own.

My sincere gratitude goes to my editor Nick Sayers for all his support, with a huge thank you to the rest of the fantastic team at Hodder & Stoughton, especially Laura Macdougall, Emma Knight, Lucy Hale, James Spackman, Auriol Bishop, Catherine Worsley, Ben Gutcher, Alexandra Percy, Laurence Festal, Abigail Mitchell, Laura del Vescovo and Jamie Hodder-Williams, as well as to my copy-editor, Morag Lyall, proofreader, Barbara Westmore, and Jack Dennison for looking after me on the road. Many thanks to everyone in the art and production teams, marketing, sales and publicity, and foreign rights – too many good people to mention here, but their hard work is very much appreciated.

Many thanks as ever to my agent, Rupert Heath, all at the Marsh Agency, Dan Conaway at Writers House, and to my editors and publishing teams overseas; I continue to be enormously grateful for all your support.

A nod to my fellow committee members on the Historical Writers’ Association, Stella Duffy, Michael Jecks, Ben Kane, Robert Low, Anthony Riches and Manda Scott; it’s been a pleasure to have ‘colleagues’ to share the experience of this mad career with over the past year. With special thanks to Manda and Michael for the pertinent details on corpses. It’s very handy knowing people who you can ask, What would happen if I shaved a dead body? – and they don’t immediately call the police.

Last, my heartfelt thanks go to all my friends and family, most especially Lee, without whom this journey wouldn’t mean much at all.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Map of England, Scotland & Wales

Map of Ireland

Epigraph

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Author’s Note

Character List

Glossary

Succession to the Scottish Throne

Bibliography

Also by Robyn Young

Brutus! there lies beyond the Gallic bounds

An island which the western sea surrounds,

By giants once possess’d; now few remain

To bar thy entrance, or obstruct thy reign.

To reach that happy shore thy sails employ;

There fate decrees to raise a second Troy,

And found an empire in thy royal line,

Which time shall ne’er destroy, nor bounds confine.

The History of the Kings of Britain
, Geoffrey of Monmouth

PROLOGUE

1135 AD

. . . the reliques of the other saints should be found, which had been hidden on account of the invasion of pagans; and then at last would they recover their lost kingdom.

The History of the Kings of Britain,
Geoffrey of Monmouth

Armagh, Ireland

1135 AD

On the brow of Ard Macha, whose ancient slopes bore the name of a goddess of war, a band of men were waiting. They stood close together outside the cathedral’s doors, eyes searching the mist that shrouded the hilltop. A golden light was starting to suffuse the haze, the memorials of the saints in the cemetery just visible, but, beyond, the city of Armagh remained veiled in white.

A crow cast from one of the yew trees that guarded the approach to the cathedral, the beat of wings disturbing the hush. The eyes of the company darted in the direction of the bird to see a figure emerging from the mist. It was a man dressed in a hooded black robe that ill-fitted his gaunt frame. As he walked towards them, their hands tightened around their weapons. Some of the younger men shifted uneasily. One at their centre, as broad as an ox with a hard, craggy face, pushed through their ranks to the front. Niall mac Edan stared past the approaching figure, scanning the amber gloom. After a moment something large appeared, trundling in the man’s wake. It was a cart, drawn by a mule. Two men in black habits were leading the beast. Niall’s eyes narrowed in expectation, but there was no other movement. As ordered, Malachy had come alone.

The men with the cart halted on the edge of the cemetery, leaving Malachy to continue up the slope, the hems of his black habit flapping around bare feet. His head was shaven in a severe tonsure, his bald crown burned livid by the July sun. His face was pinched, the skin stretched over the bones of his cheeks and sinking into the hollows of his eyes. Niall sensed the tension in his men; saw some of them edge back. Last month, when Malachy came to this hillside, attempting to enter the cathedral, he brought an army with him and blood had been spilled. But Niall knew it wasn’t the memory of violence that unnerved his men. They would be calmer facing spears and axes than this solitary, whip-thin man whose feet were callused from years walking the land, preaching the word of God. They had all heard the stories.

It was said that Malachy once cursed a man who defamed him, causing the unfortunate’s tongue to swell and turn putrid, worms gushing from it. After seven days vomiting out the maggots that filled his mouth the wretch had died. A woman who harangued Malachy during a sermon was known to have fallen to the ground after the oration, convulsing so hard she swallowed her tongue. He was said to be able to cure pestilence and create it, cause rivers to rise and burst their banks, and it was believed that the vengeance of the Lord would fall upon any who stood against him.