Foster nodded. “And he did not one damned thing to scotch it, either.”
De Burgh sighed again. “Mein Herr, the relationships between the High King and the other kings in Ireland, it seems, have never been understood by many foreigners. Traditionally, Tara has no real control over the actions of the other kings, who mount raids and make war when and as and upon whom they please. Though right often they are likened to
King Arthur’s earls and dukes or to the Emperor’s herzogs, the actual situations are not the same, for Irish kings hold their lands by the force of their arms or by inheritance or both, not by way of oath ings to Tara. True, the High King may suggest or request, but if he really insists upon having his way, his only means of being sure of getting it is outright war.
“And at the time of the crusading raid upon this coast, the armies of the High King were otherwise embroiled … in Munster, to be exact. Himself could do no more than to curse Eamonn of Lagan, at the time, though he did take other action later.”
“You mentioned that this King of Lagan is dead,” said Foster. “Who slew him, us or the High King?”
“Neither,” answered de Burgh. “Though I am given to understand it was a near and damned chancy thing, his escape from these shores, after the defeat of his force. He got away with nought save his sword and the clothes upon his back, all else he owned he left behind—loot, gear, warchest, horse, and panoply. Ships’ officers who watched the debacle on that beach through long-glasses say that Eamonn’s bodyguard fell to the last man ensuring the escape of their coward king. Even Prince Emmett, who was an infamous warlock of an age beyond human reckoning and the great-great-grandfather of Eamonn, so they say, though he appeared no older than do I, was seen to fall upon that bloody strand.
“At any rate, King Eamonn’s kingdom was neither large nor overly rich and neither he nor his father before him had exercised overmuch thrift, so he had been constrained to borrow heavily from certain agents of the Church in order to finance his Crusade, meaning to repay both principal and interest from the loot he had felt sure he’d bring back from England. But when return he did, it was as a royal pauper. With the bulk of even the royal jewels lost with his warchest, his only remaining assets were his lands and castle, and to these agents of the Church laid claim. But he resisted these just claims, attesting that his great-great-grandfather, Prince Emmett—who had actually affixed the royal signature and cipher to the documents—had not had his, Eamonn’s, leave to do so, had been acting on his own as it were, and therefore had contracted an illegal loan. Eamonn did not deny receipt of the monies or subsequent use of them, only that he and his kingdom were responsible for repaying said monies.”
De Burgh grinned. “Eamonn’s defense was a patent fraud,
a fact easily seen by the judges and the High King, who unanimously found in the Church’s behalf and ordered Eamonn to surrender his lands and appurtenances to his creditors, forthwith. But this the royal miscreant refused to do; rather did he close his borders, fortify his castle, and easily beat off the small token force which was all that Tara had on hand to send, at that time, the most of the army still being occupied in Munster.
“As a largish sum was involved and the Church likes not to lose even a groat, the Papal Legate in Dublin, Archbishop Mustapha of Kairouan, hired himself some Flemish mercenaries—a hundred lances, two squares of pikes, and an eight-piece siege train.”
Which should have been, thought Foster, more than enough to subdue an impoverished pocket principality—five hundred cavalrymen, three thousand infantry and arquebus-iers or crossbowmen, eight large bombards, and probably three or four times that number of smaller cannon, plus the inevitable catapults and spearthrowers.
“Upon the approach of the Legate and his condotta” continued de Burgh, “Eamonn’s closed borders suddenly became open borders, wide open, his bowmen and knights and gal-lowglasses melting away like late snow. Whereupon the Flemings invested Castle Lagan, pitched tents, dug in and set up their bombards, with the intent of commencing the battering of the walls the next dawn.
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