Read Online The Lord of Ireland (The Fifth Knight Series Book 3) by E.M. Powell - Free Book Online
Authors: E.M. Powell
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oaths. No.’ His mouth made its pucker of arrogance. ‘No, the time for promises is at an end. And the time for action ha s come.’
Still the silence. The swooping seabird cried on.
‘For a savage people understand one thing and one thing only. And that is force.’ His gaze swept over every stunned face gathered before him. ‘That is their real language. We shall speak it to them. Oh, how we shall speak it to them.’ He clenched a fist. ‘And they will understand.’
Palmer tensed in disbelief at where John’s words were leading.
‘They will understand it when they see my castles rise from the land that they claim is theirs. They will understand it when my men pour from those castles and speak to them with the point of a sword. They will understand it when the lands are no longer theirs. My first three castles will be at Tibberaghny, Ardfinnan and Lismore. From there I will push on. And on. That is the path to peace.’ He threw his fist in the air. ‘The path of the Lord of Ireland!’
Palmer wanted to drop his head in his hands as the loudest cheers yet burst forth, led by John’s group of young knights.
Henry had wanted John to take control here. But not like this.
John had not come to make peace. Instead, he was embarking on a campaign of war.
And he was taking Theodosia with him.
Chapter Seven
Tibberaghny, Co. Kilkenny, Ireland
1 M ay 118 5
Palmer sat on the low trunk of an old fallen tree, with his chain mail spread across his lap for checking . He wore his padded gambeson, not only for warmth on this cool, cloudy morning but so he’d be ready for any action.
The site of one of John’s castles at this place called Tibberaghny had been chosen well: Palmer would give him that much credit. Near to a fast-flowing river, higher hills rose some way off to the south and the curve of a mountain, covered in the low cloud, loomed even farther off to the north-west.
Chosen well, but it should not have been chosen at all.
Palmer shook the first section of mail hard to dislodge the last of the sand he’d used to clean it . He needed his arm our t o be ready, like his newly sharpened sword on the trunk next to hi m.
The creation of the new motte used a natural rise in the low-lying land. Many men laboured with picks and shovels to add to its height with more and more earth, though it was still a way off what it should be. Once the motte was up, work could begin on the keep. Enclosing the bailey could happen at the sa me time.
Palmer scowled to himself. The pace of building wasn’t fast enough. This day would be the third here. Despite the guards that had been posted, the camp of many tents continued to lie exposed to attack on this stretch of flattened ground. Charging at canvas was a much easier task than attacking a well-built wooden fortification.
Canvas that formed the only protection for Theodosia.
He lifted the mail to peer closely at its tight rings, blowing the few remaining grains of sand from them. Dirt and moisture meant rust. And rust meant weakness.
She was here because Gerald was here. John had insisted that the royal clerk should be with him in his chosen base of Tibberaghny . This was the first stop from Waterford, the nearest to that city. The two other castle sites chosen in these borderlands were farther into the territory of the Irish.
Satisfied that the metal was sound, Palmer moved on to the next section. Interesting that John didn’t want to go that far. Happy to send others, mind.
He tested what looked like a rust spot with his thumbnail. Only a piece of dried clay. It wouldn’t yield so he reached for his knife to work it free.
He’d kept out of the chaos that had been John’s assignment of men to castle sites, making sure he’d be in a position to stay with Theodosia. He knew it meant he wouldn’t be able to track de Lacy if John sent the Lord of Meath elsewhere. But Palmer had had no choice but to take that gamble.
And he’d won. De Lacy was right here with
Still the silence. The swooping seabird cried on.
‘For a savage people understand one thing and one thing only. And that is force.’ His gaze swept over every stunned face gathered before him. ‘That is their real language. We shall speak it to them. Oh, how we shall speak it to them.’ He clenched a fist. ‘And they will understand.’
Palmer tensed in disbelief at where John’s words were leading.
‘They will understand it when they see my castles rise from the land that they claim is theirs. They will understand it when my men pour from those castles and speak to them with the point of a sword. They will understand it when the lands are no longer theirs. My first three castles will be at Tibberaghny, Ardfinnan and Lismore. From there I will push on. And on. That is the path to peace.’ He threw his fist in the air. ‘The path of the Lord of Ireland!’
Palmer wanted to drop his head in his hands as the loudest cheers yet burst forth, led by John’s group of young knights.
Henry had wanted John to take control here. But not like this.
John had not come to make peace. Instead, he was embarking on a campaign of war.
And he was taking Theodosia with him.
Chapter Seven
Tibberaghny, Co. Kilkenny, Ireland
1 M ay 118 5
Palmer sat on the low trunk of an old fallen tree, with his chain mail spread across his lap for checking . He wore his padded gambeson, not only for warmth on this cool, cloudy morning but so he’d be ready for any action.
The site of one of John’s castles at this place called Tibberaghny had been chosen well: Palmer would give him that much credit. Near to a fast-flowing river, higher hills rose some way off to the south and the curve of a mountain, covered in the low cloud, loomed even farther off to the north-west.
Chosen well, but it should not have been chosen at all.
Palmer shook the first section of mail hard to dislodge the last of the sand he’d used to clean it . He needed his arm our t o be ready, like his newly sharpened sword on the trunk next to hi m.
The creation of the new motte used a natural rise in the low-lying land. Many men laboured with picks and shovels to add to its height with more and more earth, though it was still a way off what it should be. Once the motte was up, work could begin on the keep. Enclosing the bailey could happen at the sa me time.
Palmer scowled to himself. The pace of building wasn’t fast enough. This day would be the third here. Despite the guards that had been posted, the camp of many tents continued to lie exposed to attack on this stretch of flattened ground. Charging at canvas was a much easier task than attacking a well-built wooden fortification.
Canvas that formed the only protection for Theodosia.
He lifted the mail to peer closely at its tight rings, blowing the few remaining grains of sand from them. Dirt and moisture meant rust. And rust meant weakness.
She was here because Gerald was here. John had insisted that the royal clerk should be with him in his chosen base of Tibberaghny . This was the first stop from Waterford, the nearest to that city. The two other castle sites chosen in these borderlands were farther into the territory of the Irish.
Satisfied that the metal was sound, Palmer moved on to the next section. Interesting that John didn’t want to go that far. Happy to send others, mind.
He tested what looked like a rust spot with his thumbnail. Only a piece of dried clay. It wouldn’t yield so he reached for his knife to work it free.
He’d kept out of the chaos that had been John’s assignment of men to castle sites, making sure he’d be in a position to stay with Theodosia. He knew it meant he wouldn’t be able to track de Lacy if John sent the Lord of Meath elsewhere. But Palmer had had no choice but to take that gamble.
And he’d won. De Lacy was right here with
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