Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [202]
They ran towards Christ Church, then left past the skinners’ booths and across town towards the market. Fionnuala was running faster, but Una was determined. She was shorter than Fionnuala, but she reckoned she was stronger. When I’ve given her a good slapping, she thought, I’ll drag her back to the hospital—by the hair if I have to. Then she realised that the western gate might be shut. She’ll be lucky if I don’t throw her over the wall, she thought grimly. She saw Fionnuala run into the marketplace. The stalls were being closed. A moment later Fionnuala had vanished, but Una knew she must be hiding there somewhere. She’d find her.
Then Una stopped. What was she doing? It was all very well to be getting worked up about Fionnuala and the inmates of the hospital, but what about her own family? Wasn’t she supposed to be keeping watch on the wall? She cursed Fionnuala, and turned.
The sounds first reached her when she had gone about a hundred yards along the street. She heard shouting, several big bangs, more shouts. Ahead, people were starting to run in her direction. Then suddenly, from the marketplace behind her, she heard a similar racket, and a moment later saw half a dozen knights in chain mail dash into view. They must have come through the western gate. There were men-at-arms behind them. Fionnuala was there somewhere, she knew, and for an instant she felt an urge to run back and save her friend; but then she realised the uselessness of it. If she can hide from me, she thought, then she can hide from them. She saw horsemen in front of her now. She had to get to her family. She dived into an alley.
It took her some time to reach home, working her way across the town. She didn’t know how it had happened, but the English troops were obviously taking the town. They seemed to be all round Christ Church and the king’s hall. Their arrival inside the walls had been so sudden that there was scarcely any resistance. She had to go down almost to the waterfront to avoid them.
Her family were waiting anxiously by the gate. Mercifully the English had not come that way yet. She had expected reproaches but her father only seemed relieved to see her.
“We know what happened,” her mother said. “Those cursed English. While they talk to the archbishop by the south gate, they break in at the east and west. Shameful, it was. Did you see them?”
“I saw them,” said Una, and then blushed. In all her life she had never told a lie. Strictly speaking, it was true. She had seen them in the street. But it wasn’t what her mother had meant. Nobody noticed. “It was hard to get here. They’re all round the cathedral,” she added.
“We’re going to the quay,” said her father. Una noticed that he wasn’t carrying the strongbox. “The cathedral’s already surrounded,” he explained, “and I daren’t carry it through the streets now. So I’ve hidden it in the usual place. Please God no one will find it.” He indicated a pouch tied inside his shirt. “There’s enough in here to see us through our journey.”
The quay was crowded. The English were flooding through the gates of Dublin now, but they were still in the upper part of the town. People were already swarming across the bridge to the suburb on the Liffey’s northern side, but it was far from clear that they would be any safer from the English over there. On the quay, the shipmasters were doing a brisk trade. It was lucky, Una thought, that there were so many vessels in the port that day. A Norse ship had already pulled out into the stream. That would probably be going to the Isle of Man, or the islands of the north. There was a ship ready to leave for Chester. That would be closest, but the ship was already full. Two more were Bristol-bound, but their masters were holding out for such high fares that her father had looked doubtful. Another was going to Rouen in Normandy. A French merchant that MacGowan knew slightly was embarking. The fare was less than it was to Bristol. The silversmith hesitated.