Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [141]
“You think like an Ostman,” the craftsman remarked.
“Because I have observed them. The High King has a kingdom, but the Ostmen have an empire, all over the seas. The High King has an island fortress, but without ships of his own, he is always vulnerable. The High King has many cattle, but he is also poor, for the trade is all in the Ostmen’s hands. Your father was right, Morann, to take you to Dyflin.”
As Morann considered the implication of these words, he looked at Brian with a new curiosity. He had realised that, by taking the southern half of the island, the Munster king had already taken control of all the major Viking ports. He was also aware that, on some of his campaigns, Brian had made extensive use of water transport on the River Shannon. But what Brian had just said went far beyond the sort of political control that kings had exercised up to now. If the High King without Viking fleets could be dismissed as “nothing,” then this was confirmation that Brian, as many people suspected, did indeed intend, sooner or later, to take over as High King. But more than that, it sounded as if, once he had made himself master of the island, he meant to be a different sort of king. Dyflin seemed to interest him more than Tara. Morann suspected that the Ostmen of Dyflin would be seeing more of this new kind of ruler than they had been used to, and that this foolish revolt had probably given Brian just the excuse he was looking for to assert his authority in the place. He looked at the king respectfully.
“The Ostmen of Dyflin are not easy to govern,” Morann remarked. “They are used to the freedom of the seas.”
“I know that, Morann Mac Goibnenn,” the king replied. “I shall need friends in Dyflin.” He watched the craftsman shrewdly.
It was an offer. Morann understood at once. He could hardly believe his luck. After his arrest down at the quay, he had not known what to expect. And now here was Brian Boru offering him friendship in return for his loyal support. No doubt there’d be a price to pay, but it would surely be worth it. He couldn’t help admiring the vision of the Munster king as well. Just as Brian looked beyond his present position, to the time when he would be master of the whole island, so even here, when he had just crushed the opposition in Dyflin, he was already laying the groundwork for a peaceful and friendly rule of the port in the future. Perhaps, Morann thought, he even meant to base himself there one day.
And he was just about to assure the king of his loyal friendship, when there was a disturbance at the entrance, the sound of raised voices, and then the leader of the armed guard who had brought him there burst into the hall. His face was covered in blood.
“I have been attacked by an Ostman, Brian, son of Kennedy,” he called. “I ask for his death.”
Morann saw the king’s brows close and his eyes grow dark.
“Where is he?” he demanded.
And now, at the entrance, Morann saw the men drag in a figure who looked familiar; and as they pulled back his red hair to raise his head, he saw by the firelight that it was Harold.
Morann had not caught the dark fellow’s name, but evidently he was well known to King Brian; and at a curt nod from the king, he related his tale. Despite the fact that his head was bleeding quite a lot, he was brief and to the point.
Harold’s ship had entered the Liffey estuary just after dark. It seemed the crew had seen the bonfires by the Thingmount, but had assumed they must be connected with the celebration of the Christmas feast. They had tied up at the wooden quay and immediately been held by the watch, who had taken Harold’s name and sent for their officer who had gone up to the royal hall.
“As I came down onto the quay,” the dark fellow explained, “my men told the Ostman,” he indicated Harold, “to stand forward. But the moment I got close, he turned round and grabbed a spar that was lying there; I put my hand to my sword, but before I could get it out, he caught me in the face with the spar. He’s very fast,” he remarked, not without respect,