Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [200]
“Una.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Go up to the wall again.”
“Yes, Father.” What a good girl she was. Never a word of complaint. The only one he could completely trust.
Although the view at the wall was the same as before, Una did not return at once. There had been no need for words between her father and herself. She understood him. If he was worried, she would take good care to check every possibility. For some time, therefore, she scanned the south-western horizon where the Liffey made its winding way towards the city. Was there any sign of dust, any glint of armour, any hint of movement? There was nothing. Satisfied at last, she decided to go back. She glanced towards the estuary, gave a last brief look at the Wicklow Mountains, and then she saw them.
They were pouring out of the hills like a mountain stream. They were flowing down from a small valley that led up into the wooded hills to the south and spreading out onto the slopes above the hamlet of Rathfarnham, less than four miles away. She could see the glimmer of the chain mail of the knights, scores of them. Masses of men, marching in three columns, followed after. At that distance, the columns looked like three huge centipedes. Behind them came still more columns of men; from their slightly bobbing motion she supposed these must be archers.
She understood what must have happened at once. Diarmait and Strongbow must have come over the mountains instead of up the Liffey valley. They had given the High King the slip entirely. In all likelihood, this was the whole army. In a quarter of an hour they would be at Rathmines. For several moments she watched in horrified fascination; then she turned and ran.
There was no need for Una to raise the alarm. Others also had seen the army on the slopes. People were starting to run in the streets. By the time she reached her own gate, the family had already heard the shouting, and it only took a few moments for her to tell them all she had seen. The question was: what to do?
The lane in which they lived ran into the Fish Shambles. They were not far from the quays. When Una went into the street again to see if there was further news, she discovered that their next-door neighbour was loading a handcart. “I’m going to get on a ship if I can,” he told her. “I’ll not be waiting here if the English come.” On the other side lived a carpenter. He had already built a barricade around his house. He seemed to think that he could keep an army out by his own handiwork.
The MacGowan household was hesitant. Her father had closed up his strongbox and her mother had wrapped some possessions in a cloth which she had slung over her back. The two boys and the apprentice were standing beside her and the English slave girl seemed more anxious to go with them than to be liberated by her fellow countrymen.
Kevin MacGowan had never liked taking chances, and he had always tried to plan for every contingency that might threaten his little family. Faced by this crisis now he found himself well able to think rationally. The carpenter might be absurd, but surely his neighbour planning to go down to the quay might be panicking too soon. Even with his English allies, it seemed unlikely that King Diarmait would be able to penetrate stone-walled defences. That meant a siege—days or weeks of waiting, and plenty of time to leave from the quays if necessary. On balance, it seemed to the silversmith that it might be foolish to run down to the waterside now. Less easy was the question of what to do with the strongbox. He did not like to trouble the monks at Christ Church until there was good reason. If there were a siege, he’d probably continue working; so he’d need to keep some of the valuable pieces in the house anyway. If the family had to leave, he might want to take at least some of his silver with him, and perhaps leave the rest in the strongbox at Christ Church. It would depend on the circumstances.