Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [199]
Except on the coldest winter days, when he might be forced to retreat indoors, Kevin MacGowan always worked in an open-sided shed in the yard. That way he had daylight to see what he was doing. To stay warm he kept a small brazier at his feet.
He sat down at his workbench that morning with a contented smile. He never ate much, but his wife had given him fresh bread, piping hot from the oven and served with honey. The smell and the taste of it lingered in a delightful way as he set to work. His wife and Una were spinning wool in a corner by the oven. His two sons were busy with a wood carving. It was a perfect family scene.
A merchant came in to talk about a silver brooch for his wife. Kevin asked him if all was quiet in the town and he said that it was. After a while the man left, and for some time Kevin went on with his work in silence. Then he paused.
“Una.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Go to the south wall, by the main gate. Tell me if you see anything.”
“Couldn’t one of the boys go? I’m helping Mother.”
“I should prefer it if you went.” He trusted her more than the boys.
She glanced at her mother who smiled at her and nodded.
“As you wish, Father,” she said. She put a saffron-coloured shawl over her head to keep out the cold and set off along the street.
She was glad to be at home. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with the sick at the hospital, but it seemed to her that her father had not been entirely well recently. Normally she would have been busy at the hospital that day, but Fionnuala had agreed to take over her tasks. She believed that recently she had managed to persuade Fionnuala to adopt a more responsible attitude to life and she felt rather proud of that.
She saw nothing unusual along the way. People were going about their business. She passed a cart carrying timber, and she had just reached the Saxons’ church when, from the king’s hall nearby, she heard a clatter of hoofs and a dozen riders came out towards her. In front rode the king himself. She noticed that none of the riders were dressed for battle, though one or two carried the Viking battle-axe that was a favoured weapon in most parts of Ireland now. The rest, including the king, only had daggers in their belts.
As she drew against the wooden fence to let them pass, the king smiled down at her. He was a handsome, kindly-looking man. He certainly didn’t appear in the least worried.
When she went up onto the wall, she found herself quite alone. Although the sky was grey, the day was clear. Beyond the fields and orchards to the south, the rounded humps of the Wicklow Mountains seemed to loom so close that you could almost touch them. She was a little surprised not so see any lookouts posted on the wall, but there was certainly no sign of any enemy approach. The gateway nearby was open. Away on the left, she could see a ship coming in from the estuary. The port had been particularly active of late. Everything seemed to be normal.
Kevin was busy at his work when she returned. A short while ago, he had felt a need to cough and had gone into the house; but that had passed. He smiled as she returned and told him all was well, and the household resumed its peaceful routine.
It was late in the morning that the silversmith put down the piece he was working on and listened. He did not say anything, just sat there very still. Was something wrong? Nothing that he could put his finger on. Could he hear anything out of the ordinary? No, he could not. But still he sat there, puzzled. His wife glanced at him.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Nothing.”
He went back