Foster could recall having either met or seen all three, but he could not just then begin to cudgel his weary brain into expelling their guttural, almost unpronounceable Gaelic names and patronymics.
After nodding welcome and raising a hand to acknowledge their salutes, he croaked, “Please make your business brief, gentlemen. Tomorrow will come early and end late, I am very weary, and, as you can tell, my voice is almost gone.”
The spokesman for the trio bore his right arm in a sling and a dirty-bloody rag was lapped about his left hand. He moved with a decided limp, and the brogue-imbued English that lisped through the gap of new-lost teeth proved indecipherable unless Foster devoted to the speaker his undivided attention.
“M’lord Markgraf, thith delegathion be representing every living offither and axeman of The squadron of Royal Tara Gal-lowglaththeth. Pained it wath to poor Baron de Burgh that he could nae lead uth in thith, but wi’ hith kneecap thmathed by a domned Thpanither’th mathe, he cannae e’en rithe frae hith blanketth, but he bid uth thpeak in hith name ath well.
“Ath nane o’ uth had e’er theen m’lord thwing thteel, we a’ had thought him but anither, cauld-bred Thaththenach, but nae more. M’Lord, if ath the domned, bludey churgeonth thay, Baron de Burgh can ne’er agin lead intae battle, f thquadron would hae y’r worthip for oor chief. Where’er m’lord may go, whome’er he may war on, t’will be our ane rare honor tae ride at hith back.”
“But . . . but aren’t you all pledged to the service of the High King?” Foster asked.
“Nae.” the spokesman shook his head, but gently, for ft hurt. “Nae, m’lord. Pledged we a’ were tae Baron de Burgh, anely he wath pledged tae Tara.” Then, his voice dropping to conspiratorial tones and his hazel eyes gleaming, he added, “An’ it’th I be thinkin’ a far better king would m’lord be makin’ than mony who thtyle themthelveth thuch in Ireland.
When onthe they thaw m’lord fight at t’ head o’ hith gal-lowglaththeth, it’s ivery mon o’ any mettle would be after fol-lowin’ y’r worthipth banner.”
Foster could not resist a chuckle. “Sir Liam, my lands He far to the east, in the Carpathian Mountains; I harbor no designs on any Irish kingdom.”
The wounded knight nodded. “Then it’th eathward we’ll be ridin’… an’ m’lord will hae uth.”
“I am pledged td King Arthur, Sir Liam, until his kingdom be cleansed of his enemies within, and unthreatened from oversea. Only then could I think of seeking my Empire lands.”
“Och, aye, m’lord,” the Irishman nodded, smiling jaggedly, “nae doot will gi’ uth time tae thee if Baron de Burgh e’er can lead agin, ath well ath tae thend for more gude men frae oot o’ Ireland tae fill thothe thaddleth emptied thith day.”
CHAPTER 15
The royal camp under the walls of besieged London was every bit as noisome and stinking as Foster had imagined it would be; not even the incenses and perfumes with which the interiors of the King’s pavilion rooms had been infused could mask the intruding reeks of ordure and corruption from the camp streets outside. Fat flies swarmed everywhere, pigs rooted in the rubbish heaps and wallowed in the fecal-stinking mud, and Foster once more thanked his stars that he had had the foresight to send his seriously wounded either to their homes or to the cavalry-camp at Manchester to recover, for precious few of them would have lived long in this royal pesthole.
He himself had been afforded no opportunity to return to Manchester, the King’s summons having reached him a bare week after the battle in the ryefields, while still the survivors of his brigade were being reorganized after burying the plundered corpses of their enemies, rounding up stray warhorses and the like.
The captain of the resplendent horseguards sent to escort him back to the royal siege camp proved to be none other than that officer of heavy horse who had proved so good a friend on that long-ago day when Foster and Webster had had their near-fatal tiff with William Collier. Captain Sir Richard Cromwell looked no older than Foster recalled him, though his face showed a couple of unremembered scars.