Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

had to halt in its drive on Dublin, to lick its wounds and reorganise,

and the vital element of surprise was eliminated. Then Richard de

Burgh had the trouble which so often follows defeat in the field,

having to face near-mutiny from lieutenants and allies who alleged mismanagement and halfheartedness He retired on Dublin, not Drogheda, presumably with the intention of strengthening the capital’s defence. But with unanticipated results. Instead of being welcomed as reinforcement and comfort, he was in fact arrested and warded in Dublin Castle by Sir Robert Nottingham, the mayor, presumably on the orders of Bishop Hotham, the Chancellor, charged with dereliction of duty and succouring the enemy. The Scots did not learn this until later. But they did know that his thousands were now in the city.

Scouts brought back even more significant news, militarily speaking. The citizens, under this Nottingham, had risen to the defence of their town, with spirit. They were abandoning areas which had grown up outside the old walls, and these suburbs, being mainly of timber, had been set on fire, to offer no cover for the attackers. They had even pulled down the great church of St.

Saviour’s, to use its stones to repair breaches in the said walls, and to extend the de fences of the quays, so that reinforcements might come in. Indeed, they had demolished the bridge across the Liffey.

If these energetic measures were typical of the determination of the Dubliners, then a new situation had arisen.

While Bruce reorganised and sought news and reports, his brother, hot for action to redeem his name, made a brilliant assault on Castleknock, only eight miles from the city, using MacCarthy’s Irish horse. He was successful enough to capture Tyrrel, lord thereof, and burned the town, church and district, sending its smoke billowing up within sight of the Dubliners. This was the sort of swift, individual operation at which Edward excelled. It was questionable, however, whether it did more than stiffen the Dublin people in their determination to resist.

The royal brothers were now on coolest terms, for all to perceive.

It could not go on thus.

The third night after the Ratoath battle, Bruce rode with Moray and Angus Og to Edward’s camp at Castleknock -where they were kept waiting a considerable time until Edward received them in the castle hall. Robert was primed to set and deadly patience.

“Brother,” he declared, when at last they confronted each other.

“I have come for a decision. It is time that we took it. High

time.”

The other looked wary and hostile in one. “Decision? How mean you?”

“Decide how and where we go, now. For no longer is it sound strategy to assail Dublin.”

“What! You mean …? You resile? From Dublin? Now, before it. You shirk it… ?”

“Call it that if you will. Only by surprise could we have taken it.

With our numbers. Ratoath meant that there was no surprise. The city is to be held, and vigorously. To attempt to besiege it would be folly. And give time for our enemies to bring great numbers against us, from all over Ireland. I will not hazard my Scots in such case. A swift-moving cavalry force is not for siegery—as you well know.”

“I’ faith-you it was who must take Dublin! Not Drogheda.

Against my wishes …”

“That situation has changed. Vastly. We must change strategy

accordingly.”

“We must! I’d mind you who reigns here. Not Robert Bruce!”

The other ignored that.

“We have three choices. We can turn back to Ulster-but that would look like defeat, and gain us nothing. We can move around Dublin and proceed towards the south-but this leaves the enemy in force between us and our base in Ulster. And the southeast is where the English are strong. Or we can turn west. All the West of Ireland is open to us, save Limerick.

There the English are least strong, and your Irish princelings rule.

Two-thirds of the land. How say you?”

Edward gnawed his lip, his dilemma obvious. Clearly the last was the best course. But as clearly it was his brother’s course.

“I do not say any,” he jerked.

“I will not be thrown choice of this or that. By you!”

Robert shrugged.

“It is not I who offer the choice. I only put it in words. It is

there. The facts are there. Only the decision is ours.

Have you better choice, Edward?”

“If you fail me over Dublin”, the capital…!” Edward looked away.

“There is famine in the West, my lord King,” MacCarthy of Desmond, one of those who stood behind Edward, pointed out.

“I know it friend. But we have a saying in Scotland that hungry men are angry men. They will rise the more readily against the English. And Englishmen are notable for their great eating! I think the hunger will bear more heavily on their people than on ours.

Have you better course?”

“No. Save for the famine, it is the best. We could win the whole West.”

“If we could have surprised Dublin I would have preferred to move south

and east. With a possible sea descent upon Wales. That was formerly

my aim. But that is not possible now, with the enemy well warned.

The West alone offers opportunity to us, in this pass.”

“You are set to go West. Then go alone!” Edward snapped.

They eyed each other.

“Your Grace of Ireland-you would not split the host!” Moray put in.

“Ask that of your uncle!”

“And you? What will you do?” Robert asked.

“I want Dublin. My capital.”

“No doubt. But how to win it, and it embattled against us, with a few thousand men?”

“Not a few thousand. I have a great army of foot at my back.

Have you forgot? An army that will grow greater.”

“I have not forgot it. Nor the pace at which it moves! Nor that it wars in itself. And lacks a commander! It will take two weeks to reach Dublin-if it ever does. By then, the English will have 100,000 in the city.”

“And I will have more! I will call all Ireland to Tara. To Tara’s

Hill, the true heart of this land. They will rally to me there,

their

Speechless, Robert regarded him, the cynical realist, the hardbitten cavalry leader. Could a crown do this to a man?

“My lord King-you will not wait here, idle, for weeks?” MacCarthy

“Idle, man? Think you I am an idler? By the Mass-I will not be idle! While I wait I shall raise my standard on Tara. But I shall do much more.”

All men looked from one monarch to the other.

“Very well then, brother,” Bruce said at length.

“This is the parting of the roads. I have had my bellyful of waiting, at Carrickfergus.

I brought these thousands of picked men for swift warfare.

I move west.”

“As you will. Better thus, perhaps …”

So, two days later, the Scots host turned its face from Dublin and trotted off to the west, without ceremony or formal leave taking. It would be debatable which brother heaved the deeper sigh of relief. Bruce left Angus Og and his Islesmen with Edward, since that man did not want to go too far from his ships; moreover he understood the Irish best.

They forded the Liffey at Leixlip, the Salmon Leap, and then moved southwest to Naas, in Kildare, meeting no resistance, riding free. Almost a holiday atmosphere prevailed, after the strains and stresses of the last weeks. To be on their own, responsible only to themselves, with the clouds of disagreement and suspicion removed, was as good as a tonic.

Not that it was anything in the nature of a joyride, from the first.

At every township they passed, King Edward of All Ireland was proclaimed, and local lords and chiefs urged not only to declare their allegiance but to take or send contingents to Tara forthwith, lest their loyalty be doubted. They took the castles and manors of a number of Anglo-Irish barons who failed to declare their adherence to Edward Bruce, but wasted no time on besieging strong points. Their scouts and flanking pickets fought a number of skirmishes; but the main force was never engaged.