Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [122]
It was fortunate for Brian, and probably for Ireland, that the O’Neill High King at this time was of a noble and statesmanlike mind. The choice was clear, but not easy: either he must challenge the Munster man to a war, which could only involve a huge loss of life, or he must swallow his pride and come to terms with him, if the thing could be done with honour. He chose the latter course. And reviving the ancient division of the island into two halves, the upper Leth Cuinn, and the lower Leth Moga, he declared, “Let us rule jointly: you in the south, and I in the north.”
“I should rule Leinster as well as Munster then, while you keep Connacht and Ulster,” Brian solemnly agreed. “Which means,” he pointed out to his followers afterwards, “that I shall control all the chief ports, including Dyflin.” Without having to strike another blow, he had just gained all the richest prizes in Ireland.
Or thought he had.
Morann stayed two days at the farmstead. He tried his best, but nothing that he or his wife could say would persuade Astrid to come with them. She did agree to bury some of their valuables. “Leave some for the Munster men to find,” he advised her grimly, “if you don’t want the farm burned down.” Morann stayed there as long as he could in the hope that Harold might return; but when he could stay no longer, he begged her a last time at least to seek a place of sanctuary.
“There’s Swords nearby,” she remarked. This was a fine little monastery with stout walls and a high round tower, which might have offered sanctuary. “But we aren’t Christian. Or there’s Dyflin. That’s where Harold will be coming. I don’t mind going there.”
Morann sighed.
“Dyflin will have to do then,” he answered. And it was agreed that the family would occupy Morann’s house in the city.
The following day, he continued on his way. They passed the monastery at Swords—secure enough, but too close to Dyflin for his liking—and headed north. They did not stop until that evening, when they slept below the Hill of Tara.
The High King might have meant well, but when he gave the overlordship of their kingdom to Brian, the proud men of Leinster were unimpressed. Nobody had asked them. The king and the chiefs in particular were incensed. The new overlord, you could be sure, would be wanting tribute and taking their sons as hostages for their good behaviour, in the usual way.
“Give our sons to the man from Munster?” they cried. The upstart? “If the O’Neill can’t defend us, what right have they to give us to this fellow?” they demanded.
Whatever the Leinster men might have felt about the Vikings of Dyflin when they first arrived, the two communities had been living together for generations now. They’d intermarried. Indeed, King Sitric of Dyflin was actually the King of Leinster’s nephew. True, many of the Vikings were still pagan, but even religion had to take second place where matters of honour were at stake. As for the Vikings themselves, they had been stubbornly resisting the control of the High King for a long time. They were hardly likely to submit to Brian Boru just because the O’Neill High King, who was too weak to fight, told them that they should.
So it was that autumn that the King of Leinster and the King of Dyflin had decided to refuse to recognise the Munster man. “If he wants a fight,” they declared, “he’ll get more than he bargained for.” And now the Munster man was coming, and they had gone out to meet him.
The sky was overcast the next morning when Morann and his family crossed the River Boyne; it was still dull grey at noon. Their spirits were not high. To the children, the journey seemed long; and he suspected that his wife would secretly have preferred to remain inside the walls of Dyflin with her neighbours and Harold’s wife. More than once she had asked him doubtfully about