Wars of the Irish Kings (25 page)

Diarmait returned by way of Great Britain and, although very much honoured and weighed down by gifts, the evidence of the king’s generosity, he was much more elated by expectations aroused than by any concrete result. He travelled to the noble town of Bristol and spent some time there, supported in fitting style at the public expense, in expectation of the chance visit of ships which, coming from Ireland, had often in the past
berthed in that port. For he was eager to learn from these the state of affairs in his country and among his own people. And when he had often caused the king’s letter to be read in the hearing of many there, and had made many promises of money and lands to many people, all to no purpose, at last earl Richard lord of Strigoil, son of earl Gilbert, came to speak with him. On that occasion they got so far in their conversation as to give firm undertakings, the earl that he would help in restoring Diarmait the following spring, and Diarmait that he would give his eldest daughter to the earl in marriage, together with the succession to his kingdom.

When these agreements had been concluded fully and in due order as described, Diarmait, much fired by a desire to see his native land, and ever more feeling the pull of that sweet longing which draws all men to their native soil, hastened without delay to southern Wales and the region of St. David’s. This land is separated from Leinster only by the sea which, in the course of a crossing lasting only one day, does not at any time deprive one of the sight of land. At that time Rhys ap Gruffydd was prince in that region under the suzerainty of the king, and David II was bishop of St. David’s [where he met Robert FitzStephen and Maurice FitzGerald] … A firm agreement was made between them that Diarmait should confer upon Robert and Maurice under grant the city of Wexford with the two adjoining cantreds, and that they should promise their help in restoring him with the arrival of the west winds and the first swallows.

Robert FitzStephen did not forget his promise nor value lightly the pledge he had given. Having made his preparations, he put in at Bannow in three ships about the kalends of May [May 1, 1169], with thirty knights from among his nearest relations and dependants, and also a further sixty men wearing mail, and about three hundred foot-archers from among the military elite of Wales. At that time the celebrated prophecy of Merlin Silvester was clearly fulfilled: “A knight, sprung of two different races, will be the first to break through the defences of Ireland by force of arms.” If you wish to understand the prophet’s riddle, then look back to the original forbears of FitzStephen.

In the same company came Hervey of Montmorency, another fugitive from Fortune, unarmed and destitute, a spy sent in the interest of earl Richard, whose uncle he was, rather than a would-be conqueror of Ireland. When they had disembarked and drawn up their ships on the island of Bannow, a place ill-protected from all sides, they sent messengers
to Diarmait. As is usually the way, rumour spread the news of their arrival, and some of those who lived by the coast, who had previously left Diarmait’s side as soon as good fortune deserted him, immediately came flocking back to him again now that that same good fortune was returning. For as the poet says: “Loyalty stands and falls with Fortune.” When Mac Murchada heard of their arrival, he immediately came to them in triumph with about five hundred men. However he sent his natural son Domnall on ahead of him. He was, although illegitimate, a man of great influence among his people. They renewed their agreements, and oaths were given many times over on both sides to ensure the safety of each party. They then joined forces and, with a common purpose and complete agreement uniting the two different races, directed both their gaze and their battle line towards the city of Wexford, which is about twelve miles distant from Bannow. When they heard this, the people of the city came out, about two thousand strong, hitherto unvanquished and with great faith in their long-standing good fortune. They decided to meet the enemy not far from their camp and engage in a trial of strength there. But when they saw the lines of troops drawn up in an unfamiliar manner, and the squadron of knights resplendent with breastplates, swords and helmets all gleaming, they adopted new tactics in the face of changed circumstances, burned the entire suburbs, and immediately turned back and withdrew inside the walls. FitzStephen and his men eagerly made preparations for the assault. They filled the town ditches with armed men, while the archers watched the ramparts from a distance. With a great rush forward and a mighty shout they all with one accord attacked the walls. But the citizens, very quick to defend themselves, straightway hurled down heavy pieces of wood and stones and drove them back some little distance, inflicting severe wounds on many.

Among these invaders a knight, Robert de Barry, exuberant with youthful hot-headedness and bravely scorning the risk of death, had crept up to the walls in front of everyone else, when he was struck by a stone on his helmeted head. He fell from a height into the bottom of the steep ditch, and in the end just managed to escape by being pulled out by his fellow soldiers. After an interval of sixteen years his molar teeth fell out as the result of the impact of this blow and, what was even more amazing, new ones immediately grew in their place.

Withdrawing from the walls and rushing eagerly to the shore nearby, they immediately set fire to all the ships they found there. But there was one ship lying at anchor in the harbour, which had come from Britain to trade, and was laden with wheat and wine. The greater part of the crack fighting men had bravely seized this, rowing out to it in boats. But now
the anchor ropes were deliberately cut by the sailors, and as there was a following north wind, which drove the ship out into the open sea and greatly endangered their safety, it was only with difficulty that they reached land again with the aid of small skiffs and oars. So once again Fortune, unvarying only in her inconstancy, had almost deserted Mac Murchada and FitzStephen.

But on the next day, after the whole army had heard Mass solemnly celebrated, they proceeded to the assault better equipped and with their tactics more carefully thought out, supported by their skill as well as by their military strength, and relying on stratagem no less than on straightforward fighting. When they had come up to the walls, the citizens, mistrusting their capacity to defend themselves, and considering that they were acting wrongly in resisting their king, set about discussing peace after messengers were sent to them. So peace was restored through the mediation of two bishops who were in the city at that time, and other men of goodwill acting as peacemakers. The citizens surrendered themselves to Diarmait’s authority and handed over four chosen hostages for their future loyalty to him. He for his part, being eager to encourage his followers, decided to reward the principal among them on the occasion of his first success. He therefore immediately assigned the city with all its lands to FitzStephen and Maurice according to the obligation incurred in the former agreement. To Hervey of Montmorency he assigned under grant the two cantreds which border on the sea and lie between the two cities of Wexford and Waterford.

When all these matters had been settled as they wished, they added the citizens of Wexford to their forces and with an army of about three thousand men turned to attack Osraige [Osory]. Among all those who had rebelled against Diarmait, Domnall prince of Osraige had always been the most hostile. He had actually blinded Diarmait’s oldest son, whom he had long held a prisoner, out of jealous hatred. This crowning injustice was the most severe of all Diarmait’s misfortunes. To begin with they did not penetrate far into Osraige, but even at the very fringe of the area, in places that were restricted, and impassable because of woods and bogs, they found that the men of Osraige were no weaklings in defence of their homeland. They, relying on previous successes, pursued the invaders to a great distance, right out on to the plain. But FitzStephen’s mounted knights turned back on them, and immediately launching a fierce attack,
wounded them with their lances as they scattered over the plain, and threw them into confusion, causing considerable slaughter. Groups of Irish foot soldiers immediately beheaded with their large axes those who had been thrown to the ground by the horsemen. In this way the victory was won, and about two hundred heads of his enemies were laid at Diarmait’s feet. When he had turned each one over and recognized it, out of an excess of joy he jumped three times in the air with arms clasped over his head, and joyfully gave thanks to the Supreme Creator as he loudly revelled in his triumph. He lifted up to his mouth the head of one he particularly loathed, and taking it by the ears and hair, gnawed at the nose and cheeks—a cruel and most inhuman act. But after that they several times penetrated to the more remote and innermost parts of the region, vigorously pursuing a policy of slaughter, plunder and burning. At last the prince of Osraige, on the advice of his own supporters, giving hostages and swearing oaths under the terms of a peace treaty which was nevertheless feigned and a pretence on both sides rather than genuine, apparently returned to his loyal obedience to Diarmait.

In these engagements, as in all others, Meiler and Robert de Barry were conspicuous among all the rest by reason of their praiseworthy valour. Now these two young men were both FitzStephen’s nephews, the one his brother’s son, the other his sister’s. Their characters and dispositions were quite different. Only in valour did they nearly resemble each other. For Meiler loved praise and glory, and related all his actions to that end. Whatever could enlarge his reputation, that he was eager to accomplish by every possible means, and he was far more anxious to appear brave than actually to be brave. But the other, whose innate valour brought him great renown, did not demand praise, or pursue popular esteem. He preferred to be the best among those of the first rank rather than merely seeming to be so. Nature had so shaped his disposition that he was a man of maiden-like modesty, neither boastful nor a wordy braggart. He had no desire either to publicize his outstanding achievements or have them praised by others. The result was that, the less he sought fame, so all the more did he win it. For renown follows good qualities like a shadow and, deserting those who seek it, seeks out those who despise it. Indeed many please all the more from the very fact that they scorn to please, and in a wondrous way they win fame while avoiding it.

On one occasion the army was spending the night encamped in and around an old fortification in Osraige, and these two were sleeping beside each other as was their usual custom. Suddenly there were, as it seemed, countless thousands of troops rushing upon them from all sides and engulfing all before them in the ferocity of their attack. This was accompanied
by no small din of arms and clashing of axes, and a fearsome shouting which filled the heavens. Apparitions of this sort used to occur frequently in Ireland around military expeditions. At this terrifying spectacle the greater part of the army took to flight and hid, some in the woods, others in the bogs. Only these two immediately rushed to arm themselves and bravely made for FitzStephen’s tent, vigorously calling back their scattered companions to defend him and giving them new courage. In the midst of a general panic of such an order and such vehemence, Robert de Barry was anxiously looking after a sparrow-hawk, so that this bird, which he had with him there as a pet, and which aroused the admiration and envy of many, should not be lost. For among the various indications of his valour, this in particular is often said of him, that no violent attack, even if unexpected, no unforeseen occurrence or sudden event has ever found him despairing and fearful, ignominiously turning tail in flight, or overwhelmed with terror. He has always been found to be self-possessed, quick in defence and ready to take up arms. Assuredly that man is the bravest “who is ready to endure the terrifying if it should threaten him at close quarters, and powerfully to repel it.” In this conquest of Ireland he was the first knight to receive a blow and to be wounded in martial conflict. He was also the first knight in this island to hunt the daughter of Nisus with a tame domesticated sparrow-hawk ….

Mac Murchada now raised his sights to higher things and, now that he had recovered his entire inheritance, he aspired to his ancestral and long standing rights, and determined, by the use of his armed might, to bring under his control Connacht, together with the kingship of all Ireland. And so he met FitzStephen and Maurice secretly to discuss this, and revealed to them in full what was in his mind. They replied that this could easily be accomplished, if he took steps to surround himself with greater numbers of English troops. He then begged them in every way he knew to bring men of their own race and kin into the island in greater numbers, and to set about putting his plan into execution. Finally, the better to persuade them to do this, he offered each of them in turn his first-born daughter with the right of succession to his kingdom. But since at that time both of them had lawful wives, after a great deal of discussion they agreed that as soon as possible he should send messengers to earl Richard [de Clare], whom we mentioned above, and to whom, when he was in Bristol some time before, he had promised to give this same daughter in
marriage. They were to carry with them a letter couched in the following terms: “Diarmait Mac Murchada prince of Leinster, greets earl Richard lord of Strigoil, son of earl Gilbert. ‘If you were to reckon aright the days which we in our need are counting, then you would realize that our complaint does not come before its time.’ We have watched the storks and the swallows. The summer migrants have come and, having come, have now returned with the west wind. But neither the east wind nor the west has brought us your presence, which we have so long awaited and desired. So make good your delay by successfully performing what you have promised and, by showing us deeds, ensure that your word appears ‘false only in point of time.’ Already the whole of Leinster has returned to our allegiance. If you come in good time and with strong military support, the other four parts of Ireland will easily be added to the fifth. So your arrival will be welcome, if it is expeditious; it will bring you renown, if it is swift; it will be felicitous, if it is speedy. A renewed display of affection draws a protecting scab over a friendship that has been wounded in some part by neglect. For a friendship is quickly healed by a kindness rendered, and a service graciously performed makes it grow even stronger and more perfect.”…