Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [138]
The old man asked Morann if he was intending to go into the town, and the craftsman replied that he was.
“It’s the Ostmen who are seen as the real enemy,” the abbot remarked. “But though you’re not an Ostman, you’re a well-known figure in Dyflin—even dressed in a monk’s habit!” he added wryly. “I don’t know what the Munster men will feel about that. I’d stay out if I were you.”
Morann thanked him for the advice, but couldn’t take it. “I’ll be careful,” he promised; and leaving his cart at the monastery, he walked down into the town.
The streets of Dyflin were much as he had left them. He had expected to see fences down, perhaps some thatched roofs burned; but it looked as if the inhabitants, wisely, had accepted their fate without resistance. Groups of armed men lounged here and there. The Fish Shambles was crowded with carts of provisions, and the presence of pigs and cattle in many of the little yards indicated that the occupiers meant to feast well over Christmas. Many of the houses had obviously been taken over by the Munster men, and he wondered what had happened to his own. He had told Harold’s wife to take her family there in his absence; so that was his first destination.
When he reached his gate, he saw a couple of armed men leaning on the fence, one of them apparently drunk. Turning to the other, he asked if the woman was in there.
“The Ostman’s woman, with the children?”
Morann nodded. The fellow shrugged.
“They took them all away. Down by the quay I think.”
“What are they doing with them?” Morann asked casually.
“Selling them. Slaves.” The fellow grinned. “Women and children. It’ll make a change to see some of the Ostmen being sold, instead of selling us. And every one of us that fought for King Brian will get a share. We’re all going home rich this time.”
Morann forced himself to smile. But inwardly he was cursing himself. Had he brought this on his friend’s family, by persuading them to go into Dyflin from the farmstead?
His first impulse was to go down to the wood quay to try to find them, but he quickly realised that this might be unwise; nor was it yet clear how he could help them. He needed to find out more. Next, therefore, he went to the house of Caoilinn’s father, and told him where his daughter was.
“Brian’s men have already been here,” the old merchant declared. Caoilinn’s husband, he explained, had already been fined in his absence. “He’s to pay two hundred cattle and give his eldest boy as a hostage,” he said gloomily. “I’ve already lost half my silver and all my wife’s jewellery. As for you,” he cautioned the craftsman, “if these Munster men discover who you are, you’ll suffer like the rest of us.”
When Morann told him about his problem with Harold’s family, the older man was not encouraging. There were already several hundred, mostly women and children, being kept in a big compound under close guard down by the quay. And they were bringing in more each day. He advised Morann not to go near the place for the moment.
A short while after leaving the merchant, Morann was moving carefully down towards the wood quay. Though he was shocked by what had happened to his friend’s family, he knew he shouldn’t be entirely surprised. The slave markets were always being fed with people who had lost battles or been caught in Viking raids. Hard though it was, King Brian was simply making a point that the whole northern world would understand.