Strongbow (14 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
With one bold stroke, I had won an unexpected victory against the High King of Ireland himself. He and his allies were thrown into confusion. Only Dermot’s old enemy Tiernan O’Rourke still had some fight left in him. He mounted another attack on Dublin, but was soundly defeated by my men and his oldest son was killed.
We swept through Leinster, putting down pockets of resistance. Robert FitzStephen was taken prisoner and treated cruelly by some Wexford men. Each day brought a new battle. But we were winning. We could feel it, like a drumbeat growing louder and louder.
Then my uncle came to me, very worried. ‘Your latest success has made the King of England more angry than ever,’ he said. ‘Henry thinks you and your knights are seizing Ireland for yourselves, and that you mean to set up here as a rival king.’
A thrill went through me at those words. Richard de Clare, a rival king to Henry Plantagenet! But I was too old and had seen too much to really believe it. I knew Henry’s strength. More importantly, I knew how swiftly he would break such a rival.
‘I must go to him myself,’ I decided. ‘I must once more submit to his royal will, and convince him I hold Ireland only in his name.’
‘It may be too late,’ my uncle warned me. ‘He’s gathering an army
of invasion even as we speak.’
I could lose everything.
I made hasty preparations and set out for England, leaving my best captains and most loyal knights to hold the lands we had won in Ireland, and to protect my wife.
Aoife was indignant. ‘I can protect myself, Richard!’
I had to laugh. She could always make me laugh. ‘Then let’s say I’m leaving some men with you to protect my enemies from you!’
She laughed too. It was very hard to leave her.
Sailing across the Irish Sea a second time was just as bad as the first. I arrived with a belly that ached from heaving, and the taste of vomit still in my mouth.
The king was holding court on the Welsh border, I learned on my arrival. He had moved swiftly indeed. He was determined that Ireland should not be a new kingdom in our control. He had already put together a fleet of two hundred and fifty vessels at Milford Haven, and gathered an army to transport across the sea to Ireland. The flower of his knighthood was with them.
At first Henry refused to see me. But I told everyone within hearing, even the littlest pages of his court, how loyal I was to him and how eager I was to lay my conquests at his feet. At last he sent for me.
My position had changed since the last time I entered the royal presence. Then I came almost as a beggar. Now I came as a conqueror.
Henry had changed too. He was grey, not in the hair but in the face, and his eyes were haunted. I had learned that he was almost at war with Rome, over the murder of the Archbishop, Thomas à Becket. So much had happened while I was in Ireland, and none of it had seemed important to me, over there.
I bent my knee to him and bowed my head. He stared down at me for a long time without saying anything. I could feel my heart beating heavily. I wondered if he could hear it.
I wondered if he would draw his sword and strike my head from my shoulders. He was a king. To him, I was a traitor.
At last I heard him draw a deep breath. ‘You have done well in Ireland, I believe?’
‘I have, Your Majesty. In your name,’ I added quickly. ‘I have subdued many of the natives.’
‘But not all of them.’
‘Not all of them,’ I had to admit. ‘I had too few men to conquer the entire island.’
I dared to look up at him then. Henry was smiling.
‘I have enough men,’ he said.
My heart sank in me.
We talked long into the night. Henry was more kindly disposed towards me than I had expected. He always did admire a victor. In the end, we reached an agreement that sat heavy on me, but it was the best I could do. I would hand over to the English king Dublin, Waterford, Wexford, and those other lands he might name, but he would allow me to continue to hold for myself the strongholds I had built and the lands around them.
Compared to the kingship of Leinster it was not a great prize, but at least it was in Ireland.
As I had always known, the King of England meant Ireland itself to be his. The Normans who had followed me and fought with me would be granted lands and titles in this new kingdom, provided they paid tribute to England and held Henry, not Rory O’Connor, as their king.
I returned home, to Ireland, to await Henry’s arrival. I didn’t have long to wait.
We did, however, receive one bit of news during that time that brought great cheer into my camp and to my wife. We learned that Tiernan O’Rourke had engaged one of my knights, Hugh de Lacy, in battle in Meath. O’Rourke had been killed, and his head hung over the gates of Dublin.
When we heard this, Aoife went around smiling for the rest of the day.
De Lacy set about building himself a castle at Trim in the Norman fashion, to celebrate.
I daresay Dermot Mac Murrough lay warm and happy in his tomb. My wife kept the tomb wreathed with flowers, for as long as the summer lasted.
The autumn brought Henry Plantagenet.
‘I want to go with you to meet the king,’ I told Richard firmly.
‘It’s not done,’ he said. ‘You’re a woman.’
‘I’m a princess of Leinster and the daughter of a king!’ I shot back. ‘And furthermore, I’m your wife.’
‘Ah, but what am I?’ Richard asked sadly.
I gave him the title I knew he treasured most. ‘You’re Strongbow,’ I said.
I went with him to meet the king.
The King of the English landed near Waterford in October in the Year of Our Lord 1171. He brought five hundred horsemen and thirty-five hundred men-at-arms.
With the exception of Rory O’Connor and his most loyal allies, the princes of Ireland went to greet him. The hosting of such an important king – with so many warriors – was an event of major importance. The Irish princes were awed by the size of the force he had brought. Here truly was a king to put Rory O’Connor into the shade! The High King’s star had all but set anyway, since my husband’s defeat of him.
‘I’ll present you to him. Remember, you’re just a woman.’
I glared at my husband. There was still too much of the Norman left in him to please me.
I had no chance to speak to Henry anyway, as it happened. From
the moment he set foot on Irish soil he was surrounded by a great party of warriors and courtiers. A glittering canopy of cloth-of-gold was set up over his head wherever he halted. Henry strode the earth as if he was better than any of us, gazing neither to the left nor the right. A great train of followers bustled after him wherever he went.
My sister Urla arrived with her husband, Donal Mor O’Brien. ‘We have come to give our formal submission to this new High King and promise the usual tribute,’ Urla told me. She and her husband didn’t see any difference between Henry of England and Rory O’Connor of Connaught.
In fact, Donal O’Brien was pleased with Henry’s arrival. ‘A man that strong is useful,’ he told Richard. ‘I can hire some of his Normans to fight for me.’
Henry began a royal progress towards Dublin. He went slowly, allowing the natives plenty of time to see how many warriors he had. As the great High King Brian Boru had once done, Henry frightened people into submission through sheer weight of numbers. He didn’t have to fight any battles.
On the day he set out on his royal progress, Henry summoned my husband. Richard went alone to meet him. I waited fearfully. I knew Richard was worried. I wished he had taken me with him. It’s much easier to know the worst right away, than to have to wait for it.
When Richard returned late that night his face was deeply lined with weariness. But he managed a small smile for me. ‘I’m still alive, at least,’ he said bravely.
‘And?’
‘And that’s about all, Aoife. In return for my total submission to him, Henry is giving me only our stronghold in Kilkenny and a few other bits and pieces. Nothing compared to what I fought so hard to win.’
Richard’s eyes were filled with pain. I put my hand on his arm. ‘Henry is making a mistake,’ I said angrily. ‘He’s a fool, there’s no
better man than you in Ireland, and he should reward you lavishly for what you’ve done. If I had been with you, I would have told him!’ I stamped my foot and tossed my head.
In spite of himself, my husband smiled. ‘That’s exactly why you weren’t with me. I can’t imagine Henry letting some Irish woman call him a fool to his face. He’d have clapped me in irons at once.’ His smile widened into a grin that drove some of the pain from his eyes. ‘And maybe it would have been worth it,’ he added, ‘just to see my brave wife attack the King of England.’
But he didn’t really mean it. I knew that.
‘What about the kingship of Leinster, Richard?’
My husband sighed. ‘Although he won’t actually adopt the title, the new King of Leinster is Henry Plantagenet now. And because of O’Brien’s submission to him, he’s overlord of Munster as well. My men and I won the battles, but he’s won Ireland.’
The English king insisted that his Anglo-Norman subjects in Ireland must obey English law, not Irish, and must remain loyal to England. To those he considered loyal enough he gave grants of land. Hugh de Lacy was given Meath and the command of Dublin.
‘Giving him Dublin is meant as a punishment for me,’ my husband raged. But there was nothing he could do about it.
King Henry also gave the town of Dublin a charter. Under this charter, he granted Dublin to the citizens of Bristol rather than to the Norse.
I thought Richard would rebel. I hoped Richard would rebel, as my father would have done.
But Richard was tired. He was not a young man when he arrived in Ireland, and he had endured a most difficult year. Like the rest of our men, he was awed by Henry’s army.
As a warning, perhaps, to Richard, Henry punished Robert FitzStephen. FitzStephen had been handed over to the invading English king by the Wexford men in an effort to win Henry’s favour.
Henry spared Robert’s life, but stripped him of all that Richard had given him and sent him into a bitter exile in the far west of Ireland, to try to hack a place for himself in the wilderness.
To hold them in his name, Henry put garrisons of loyal men into Dublin, Wexford, and Waterford. He spent the winter in Dublin in a new timber palace built for him, and the Norman knights attended him there, my husband among them.
On the surface, Henry was kind enough to me. He treated me as he did his other nobles. He had a place held for me at his banquet table. He even allowed me to parcel out bits of land to some of my most deserving followers.
But I had no real power. He knew it and I knew it.
I went alone to the new cathedral, and bowed my head once more in the echoing silence.
‘I’m not to be King of Leinster after all,’ I whispered in defeat to my father. ‘But I did my best. You know I did my best.’
As usual, it wasn’t enough.
At the start of Lent, in the Year of Our Lord 1172, Henry left Dublin for Wexford. He stayed there until Easter. Then he set sail for England, never to return.
But the Ireland he left behind him was changed forever.
England was now in control of most of the east and of much of the midlands as well. New castles were springing up everywhere, great grim stone piles in the Norman fashion, reminding me of the home that had been mine in Pembrokeshire.
I spent my time trying to strengthen my grip on what little had been left to me. Aoife was the rock beneath my feet. Loyal, strong, never complaining, she helped me in all I did.
I urged my fellow knights to take Irish women for their wives. ‘You can do no better anywhere,’ I assured them.
Raymond le Gros, fortunately, preferred my sister Basilia. He made another trip across the Irish Sea and brought her home to Ireland. How glad I was then that I had given her to Raymond, in spite of his faults. If she had not been married to him I would never have seen her again.
‘Let me hug you!’ I cried when I first saw her. I took her into my arms and squeezed as hard as I could, the way Aoife liked.
‘You’re crushing me, Richard,’ Basilia protested against my chest.
She was shy with me. We had been apart for a long time and both our lives had changed.
‘What do you think of my sister?’ I asked Aoife proudly.
‘She’s very pretty. But can’t she speak any language except the Norman tongue? I’ve learned a lot of Norman, but not enough to chatter away with her as I would like. And she doesn’t even know any Latin!’
‘We don’t teach our women languages,’ I said.
Aoife gave me a look of disgust.
I had always thought of Basilia as a beauty. Next to my Aoife, however, she seemed like a pale lily beside a glowing rose. Basilia was shy, Aoife was outspoken. Basilia was frail, Aoife was strong. Basilia could make me smile, but Aoife could make me laugh no matter how bad I felt.
So I had my sister back with me – in a way. My son and daughter remained in England. The loot I had sent them from Ireland provided well for them. My daughter would have a titled husband someday; I could do no more for her.
I kept my head down, worked hard, and tried not to be bitter.
When the most recent messenger arrived from the king, at first I couldn’t believe him. ‘You are asked to use your sword in His Majesty’s service,’ I was informed.
‘Henry summons me to fight in his name!’ I exclaimed to Aoife.
‘It’s a good sign!’
‘Is it?’ Aoife raised one eyebrow doubtfully. She was her father’s daughter, suspicious and wary. ‘I think he’s just taking advantage of you, Richard,’ she told me. ‘You’re a tool he can use however he likes. He knows you can’t refuse him.’
She was right. I knew it. I was embarrassed that my wife should see me helpless. But what could I do?
There were Irish risings against Norman power, and new battles to be fought. I fought them in the king’s name as best I could, a battered old knight going out in a cause that was not really his. In time I held much of Leinster, though not as its king.
The man who might have made the best king, Donal Mac Murrough Kavanaugh, was fighting his own wars, the old story of Irish tribe against Irish tribe. Leinster was no longer a kingdom. It was just a large section of Ireland, which I held for Henry.
Henry Plantagenet was a clever man. He knew I must be given some reward, some time. In August of 1173 he appointed me ‘Guardian of Ireland’, a title of his own inventing.
I then awarded part of Carlow to Raymond le Gros, so my sister’s husband held rich lands at last. I also made him Constable of Leinster, a title of my inventing.
My Aoife gave me strong sons, Irish sons, who were christened each in turn in the cathedral I had built, Christ Church, in Dublin.
I was more lucky in my sons than King Henry in his. His three eldest joined with the King of France against their father.
‘King Henry has sent for me to fight with him in France,’ I had to report to Aoife. I knew she wouldn’t be pleased.
‘He’s only trying to get you out of Ireland because he’s afraid you’re becoming too strong here, Richard.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I must go. I’ve sworn my loyalty to him.’
‘That wouldn’t have stopped my father,’ Aoife muttered under her breath.
With a heavy heart, I entrusted myself to the sea once more, and spent another miserable journey. But we did well once we got to France. Old as I was, I fought bravely. My only thoughts were to get back to Ireland. Even Henry had to admit that none of his barons served him better, and as a reward I was at last to go home again.
When I returned to Leinster, everyone was talking about my wife. I hurried to our stronghold at Kilkenny to learn the truth for myself.
We had built a motte and bailey of earthwork and timber, at first, but then built atop this with good stonework. As I drew near the fortress I could see signs of scorching on the stones. Someone had built a fire against the wall, trying to burn out my family.
I lashed my poor horse as hard as I could and galloped for the gates. A sentry opened them to me.
‘Where is Aoife?’ I cried, stepping from my horse.
She came running down the steps towards me, laughing. The sunlight caught her hair and set it ablaze. ‘Here I am!’ she called, holding out her hands to me. ‘And here is your castle, still safe and still yours.’
The stories I had heard were true. Sitting in the great hall that night, Aoife told me everything.
‘Some of O’Rourke’s old army, and some of the O’Quinn tribe, besieged us while you were away,’ she said. ‘They called you terrible names and swore to destroy your stronghold and even your memory. Your men-at-arms defended us well, but our enemies were strong and couldn’t be broken. The fighting went on and on around the walls of the castle.
‘Your captain of the guard told me to stay out of sight, but at last I couldn’t. I got up on a stool and took one of your swords from the wall in the armoury. Then I climbed up onto one of the outer walls, just above the heaviest fighting. The leaders of the enemy were below me. They didn’t see me.
‘I held your sword above my head and gave a great cry, and leaped
off the wall onto them. I am so large and jumped from such a height that I broke the neck of one of them, and the rest ran away in fear. Our own men pursued them then and drove them out of the area. They haven’t returned,’ she added with a laugh.
I should think they hadn’t! My Red Eva with a sword in her hands would be enough to put the heart crosswise in the bravest man.
After that, when I had to be away from home I didn’t put the captain of the guard in charge. Aoife was in charge, and everyone knew it.
