Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
Strongbow (9 page)
My father had run out of patience, if he ever had any. He wrote a long letter to Strongbow.
‘We have watched the storks and swallows,’ he wrote, ‘the summer birds have come and are gone with the wind of the south. But neither winds from the east nor the west have brought your much-desired presence.’
Father was pleased with this letter. There was poetry in it, and as every Irish person knew, poetry had power.
Even before Strongbow could have received the letter, its magic seemed to be at work, for his advance guard arrived. Word came to us of a ship that had landed on the strand of Baginbun, in Bannow Bay. The ship flew Norman banners, and brought ten knights and seventy archers, led by a man known as Raymond le Gros.
Hervey de Montmorency, Strongbow’s uncle, who had returned to Ireland, went to meet him. Father sent word to his own warriors to gather and be ready, but they were scattered and it would take time for them to come together.
However, Father’s enemies in Waterford and Ossory were not scattered. They were ready and willing to fight.
The first messenger to reach Ferns from the scene of the battle had a thrilling tale to tell. ‘Our enemies numbered three thousand men!’ he
cried, with the light shining from his eyes. ‘But Strongbow’s captain, Raymond le Gros, wasn’t easily frightened. He captured many cattle, then caused them to stampede into the enemy lines. There was a panic and the enemy broke and ran. Le Gros chased them, and he and his men caught over five hundred and put them to the sword.’
‘I knew it!’ Father cried with joy, beating his fist against his open palm. ‘I knew the tide would turn for us! God’s blessing on the Norman and his kind!’
‘There was a bitter argument afterwards,’ the messenger went on to say. ‘Seventy of the principal men of Waterford were taken prisoner and held in our camp. Raymond le Gros thought they should be shown mercy. But Hervey de Montmorency said mercy never won wars. He insisted that their legs be broken, then had them thrown over the cliff into the sea.’
I gasped with horror. I hated Father’s enemies, but no man should suffer such a fate. It was as bad as blinding Enna.
A shadow seemed to cross Father’s face for a moment. But then he hid it. He ordered a great feast of celebration to be prepared, and had the priests say prayers for Raymond le Gros and for Strongbow, who was surely soon to follow.
We filled our bellies with roast boar and duck eggs and haunch of badger, and there was laughter once more at Ferns. But privately, I wondered if we were ever going to see this Strongbow.
After that first victory, Raymond le Gros fell quiet. He really had very few men, and had won through luck and inspiration. He didn’t want to have to fight again until Strongbow arrived to add to his numbers. Even the warriors Father was able to send to him couldn’t persuade him to leave his camp and set out against O’Connor and O’Rourke.
Father’s first joy turned sour. ‘These Normans always want to wait for something,’ he complained. ‘It’s an ugly habit. They’re too cautious. I thought they were eager warriors, but now I’m not so sure.’
The weeks dragged by. Nothing was happening. Father rode out to meet with le Gros and Strongbow’s uncle a number of times, urging them to fight, but nothing came of it. Without their support he was unwilling to march.
In time it would be winter again, another year lost, and his hatred for his enemies as strong as ever. When it began to soften he had only to look at poor Enna, feeling his way around the palace with his hands.
Enna was the torch that kept all our hatred burning.
But where was Strongbow?
Remembering Henry’s words as if they were a solemn pledge of lands and power, I headed westward, gathering the last men I needed along the way. The summer was drawing to a close. If we meant to take a serious invasion force to Ireland in the year of Our Lord 1170, we must set sail soon.
I went to the holding that belonged to Raymond le Gros’ family, to say goodbye to my sister. If all went well in Ireland, in time she would be living in a fine castle of her own rather than a small mean house with her husband’s kin.
We didn’t know what to say to each other. I couldn’t ask her if she was happy. I couldn’t tell, from the look on her face.
Then she smiled at me as she always had, and ran into my arms. ‘Oh Richard, do be careful in Ireland!’ she breathed in my ear. ‘And take care of Raymond for me, will you?’
I knew she was happy, then. One small stone was lifted from my heart.
‘I’ll not only take care of him, I’m going to make him a very wealthy man,’ I promised Basilia. I said it as firmly as I could, to make her believe it. To make myself believe it as I stepped off the rim of the world. ‘There’s a much better future waiting for all of us,’ I said.
Somehow, I must make it so.
Trusting that Raymond had prepared the ground and had our allies waiting, I led my army to Milford Haven. From that port we would depart for Ireland as soon as the last supplies were loaded aboard our ships.
But no sooner did I reach Milford Haven than a messenger on a fast horse caught up with me. He brought word from King Henry.
My heart sank as I listened.
‘His Majesty fears the Earl of Strigul has misunderstood him, or taken advantage of his good nature. The king demands that the Earl of Strigul disband his army and undertake no foreign conquest, under threat of losing his last earldom.’
I was shocked. Why had Henry changed his mind? Was he afraid of any other man who could put together an army? What sort of threat could I be to him?
And, once I thought about it, what sort of threat was this to me? He said he would take my last earldom from me. But the title Earl of Strigul was of little importance any more. In Ireland, I would have vast holdings and be a king.
A king.
I thought long and hard, in the silence of the night. By morning I had made up my mind. Calling my ship’s captains together, I told them, ‘Finish loading as soon as you can. We sail at once.’
I had done everything possible to win the king’s favour. I had even made an extra effort to be certain of his permission.
Now he had turned his back on me. Very well. It wasn’t the first time a man had turned his back on me. My own father had done so, but I had survived. I had grown strong.
When the tide turned, we sailed for Ireland.
Aboard ship I stood at the rail, watching the sea. The water rose and fell, heaving up slate-coloured mountains that sank back into hissing foam.
My belly began to heave too.
I bit the inside of my lip but it didn’t help. I tried not looking at the water, but staring up at the sky. The heaving grew worse. Sweat broke out on my brow. Think of something else, I ordered myself. But I couldn’t think of anything else. Ireland, Dermot, the king … all faded away. I gripped the splintery wooden rail as hard as I could. My knuckles turned white. The ship swooped and swayed and suddenly I was leaning out over the rail, being terribly sick.
I thought all my insides were coming out of me.
When at last I stood up again, I was dizzy. My ears were ringing. But when I looked around, I saw that I wasn’t the only one who was seasick. On both sides of me were strong, brave warriors, with green faces, hanging over the rail and moaning.
‘I think I’ll stay in Ireland forever,’ I said to the man nearest to me. ‘I never want to be on a ship again.’
He nodded in agreement. He was too sick to speak.
In truth, I might have to stay in Ireland no matter what happened. By ignoring the king’s command I was guilty of treason. Unless I won great victories in Ireland and claimed the entire island for him, he might never allow me to return. Or if I did, he would have me killed.
It was not a pleasant prospect.
Looking beyond the ship on which I stood, I saw the other ships carrying the rest of the two hundred knights and the thousand men-at-arms I had gathered, plus horses and weapons and armour.
It had taken a long time, longer than I would have liked, but at last I had put together a real army.
Perhaps that’s why Henry forbade me to go, I thought. Men loyal to him might have seen us marching through the country and sent word to him of the size of my forces. No king likes to hear that another man, who was once set against him, has raised an army.
How good it felt to know I had enough power to worry a king! My sickness began to leave me. I gazed at the sea and the sky. I licked my lips and tasted the salt on them.
I turned my face toward Ireland.
Waterford was my destination, to join the advance party under Raymond le Gros. Our ships would come ashore on the 23rd of August, with good fighting weather still remaining to us.
As we neared land, I stood in the prow, eager for my first sight of Ireland. The ship’s captain came up to me.
‘Almost there now. You see that low dark line on the horizon? Land, that is. We’ll put in near a place called Passage, where the Barrow and the Suir rivers pour into the harbour.’
I leaned forward as if I would push the ship faster with my own weight.
As we drew near the harbour, I could see the fleet of trading vessels that dotted its waters. Beyond stretched a green land, a rich land. A sweet land, it seemed to my weary eyes. The sky was as clear as a nun’s voice, and the wind was soft on my cheek. Never had I seen a place so beautiful. We had left England under grey skies. When we reached Ireland, the sun appeared.
‘I want to be the first on shore,’ I told the ship’s captain. A hundred years earlier, William of Normandy had been the first man ashore on English soil, and he had taken that land as his own.
I didn’t wait for the boat to be properly beached but leaped out as if I was a lad of fifteen. Until the day I die I’ll remember the thud of my feet on Irish soil, and the tingle that ran through my body.
‘I’ve come to be a king,’ I said into the soft wind.
It took the better part of a day to get all my men and equipment ashore, and set up camp. Messengers from Raymond arrived almost at once. Many eyes had seen us come ashore. By the time the first fire was lit for the night, Raymond himself had joined me.
‘You’re most welcome to Ireland,’ he said heartily, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘I almost despaired of you.’
‘I said I would come. I came.’ There was nothing else to say.
He turned slowly, his eyes measuring the huge force encamped
around me. ‘This is an army indeed. I expected nothing like.’
‘There was no point in doing it half-way,’ I told him.
‘And when do we begin?’
‘At once.’
Now that I was in Ireland, my patience was gone like melted snow. I couldn’t wait to claim the lures that had brought me. I sent word to Dermot Mac Murrough, but without waiting for him, decided to put the town of Waterford under siege and force its surrender.
‘Waterford,’ Raymond had told me, ‘was badly shocked by the killing of its most important men. But they’ve kept guards on the walls of the town, and the gates are barred. It’s the most important trading centre in Ireland, Richard, after Dublin, and its capture would make a mighty beginning for us.’
‘I think we made a bad start, killing important men,’ I said doubtfully. ‘It would have been better to make allies of them.’
Raymond snorted. ‘How can you make allies of these people? We’ve come to take their land for ourselves, they’ll not love us for it. I wanted to show them mercy at first but the others talked me out of it, and now I think they’re right. If we show these people mercy they’ll think we’re soft. We must be hard. We must frighten them from the beginning. Live up to the name of Strongbow!’ he said with a laugh.
I sent for a messenger. I set my face in hard lines as I spoke to him, knowing he would report my expression to the King of Leinster.
‘Tell Dermot Mac Murrough to bring his men and attend the capture of Waterford if he likes,’ I said, ‘but assure him I, Strongbow, can do it without him.’
I would. Raymond was right. The time had come for me to be Strongbow indeed.
We attacked the walls twice, and were twice turned back. Then Raymond came to me with a plan. ‘I’ve noticed a small timber building fixed to one of the walls,’ he said. ‘It’s an outpost for guards, I think. But the important thing is, it has been built into the wall. If it
were torn loose, part of the wall would come with it.’
I was beginning to be glad I had given my sister to Raymond le Gros.
My men attacked the sentry post with a will, hacking at it with their weapons while the defenders hurled spears and curses at us from the walls of the town. Soon the little timber building came down, with a crash. When the dust had settled we could see that the wall was broken.
We poured through. I was in the forefront, yelling. Never have I felt so brave in battle, or so eager. Together with my men I hacked and slashed and killed until we reached the centre of the town, where a stone cathedral stood.
Only then did I recall that these people were Christians. My upraised arm trembled. I put down my sword and stood, panting. But my army didn’t stop. They fought most savagely, until the two Norse chieftains of the town came and offered to surrender.
They were sent to me and knelt before me with bowed heads as if I were a king.
Around us, their town burned.
