Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [175]
Meanwhile, at the water’s edge some hundreds of yards away, a truly terrible scene was taking place. The Leinstermen and their allies had fled to the water’s edge, but having got there, were trapped with no further escape route. Those running westwards were caught as they tried to wade back across the stream. And in these two places they were slaughtered without mercy. Already the bodies were piling up in the stream and floating out into the estuary.
King Brian Boru did not watch. His head remained bowed, his shoulders stooped in pain. At last, turning his eyes sadly towards Brother Osgar, he motioned him to his side.
“Pray with me, monk,” he said quietly. “Let us pray for my poor son.” So Osgar came, and knelt at his side, and they prayed together.
Not wishing to disturb them, Morann moved to the edge of the enclosure and stepped out. The remaining guards were watching the events down by the water. Strangely, though it was only hundreds of yards away, the massacre seemed distant, almost unreal, while by Brian’s small enclosure there was an eerie quiet.
So the battle was over, and he was still alive. Morann had to admit that he was surprised. Had his intimation back at the tombs by the Boyne been wrong?
It was a few moments later that he saw the movement away to his right. No one else had noticed. It came from the small wood which ran down to the hamlet. From the top of it, now, a party of Vikings was emerging. There must have been at least a dozen of them. The people down by the water had their backs to them. They were fully armed, and they were running, rapidly, towards King Brian’s enclosure.
He let out a shout.
Caoilinn had seen enough. She could not tell exactly what was happening at the water’s edge, but the outcome of the battle was clear. The Leinster and Dyflin men had lost and Brian’s men were going to massacre them.
“Come, children,” she said, “it is time to go.”
“Where to, Mother?” they asked.
“Fingal.”
They headed north. At first, she urged her horse into a canter. It would look better, after all, if they could arrive at the farmstead quickly, before news of Leinster’s defeat reached Harold. She could claim that she had set out that morning and been delayed by troops on the road, rather than admit she had waited to see the outcome of the battle. She’d have to instruct the children in their story, too. But then she shook her head and almost laughed at herself. How absurd. What an insult to Harold’s intelligence, demeaning to them both. If they were going to marry, there would have to be more honesty than that.
So as soon as she was certain they were clear of any danger, she slowed her horse to a walk. She would take her time. She might as well look her best.
Osgar had already jumped up by the time Morann was back in the enclosure. The guards, caught unawares, were still snatching their shields and weapons. One of them had let Morann have an axe, and the silversmith was placing himself directly in front of the king. Osgar had no weapon. He felt helpless and naked.
The Vikings were getting near. He could hear their footfalls. He saw the guards tense. There was a loud bang that almost made him jump out of his skin, as a Viking sword struck an upraised shield. Then he saw the Viking helmets—three of them, four, five. They seemed huge, larger than life, looming over the shield wall. Their axes were crashing down. He saw one axe hook itself over the top of a shield, tearing it down while a sword blade stabbed through into the defender’s stomach, causing him to scream and then wilt in a welter of blood. Another guard fell, and another, writhing and biting the grass in his agony. The Vikings were through. Three of them, two with axes, one with a sword, were coming straight towards him. To his horror, he found himself unable to move, as in a dream. He saw Morann bravely raise his axe and swing at a Viking with a scarred face. With a clever stoop, the Viking dodged the blow while his companion, a black-haired, swarthy man, moving so quickly that Osgar hardly saw it happen, plunged a great, blue-bladed