Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [215]
“I will talk to your father,” the Palmer promised.
And so by that evening it was agreed. Fionnuala would come down several days a week to the hospital. Sometimes she would sleep there.
“Who knows,” her father remarked to Ailred, “perhaps she is growing up.”
The offer from the High King came the third day that the archbishop and Gilpatrick rode out.
“Let Strongbow keep Dublin, Wexford, and Waterford,” he said, “and we need not quarrel.”
In many ways it was a handsome offer. The High King was ready to give up the most important port in Ireland to the English lord. But it seemed to Gilpatrick that it was also a very traditional offer. The archbishop summarised it when, on their way back, he remarked: “I suppose, in a way, it’s just exchanging the English for the Ostmen in the ports.”
That was it, Gilpatrick thought. Even now, after three centuries of living side by side, the Irish still saw the old Viking ports, crucial though they were to Ireland’s wealth, as places apart. To the ancient clans, and to the O’Connor High King from Connacht, it hardly mattered who held the ports so long as they did not encroach upon the green and fertile Irish hinterland.
But the O’Connor king was no fool. There was cunning in the offer, too. If he was willing to give up Dublin, he had also wanted to ensure that Strongbow reduce the size of his army. Therefore he must deny them the one thing that would allow them to remain: land. The feudal grants of land for military service. That was what they had all come for, from poor young Peter FitzDavid to the family of Strongbow himself. The High King’s offer did not give them that.
“Let us hope Strongbow will accept,” the saintly archbishop said. But Gilpatrick had his doubts.
It was the next day, before any answer was returned, that he saw Peter FitzDavid in the Fish Shambles. They greeted each other in a friendly way but with a trace of awkwardness. With the siege in progress, a visit to his parents’ house outside the walls was inadvisable. Besides, since his father was naturally on the side of the High King, he might not have cared to meet Peter again just now. They chatted pleasantly enough, however, until Peter casually asked, “And how are the plans for your sister’s betrothal?”
Gilpatrick frowned. Why did the question strike a false note? Could it be that his young friend entertained a hope in that direction? After all, he had once had that idea himself, some years ago. But Peter’s prospects did not seem very bright at present. Hardly a good match. He smiled ironically to himself. He wasn’t sure it would be such a kindness to wish his temperamental sister onto young FitzDavid anyway, come to that.
“You’d have to ask my parents,” he said curtly, and moved away.
There was no doubt, Una had to concede, that Fionnuala had changed. She might not be able to come every day, but when she did come, she worked hard and without complaint. There was only praise now, from the inmates. Ailred was pleased and made a point of telling her father how much she’d improved. Sometimes she stayed the night at the hospital, sometimes she had to leave during the afternoon. But she always let Una know in advance.
There was never any trouble from the English soldiers. Their forward sentries were quite close, but they knew who she was and where she was going. Once she and Una even went for a walk on the bridge, but nobody troubled them and after exchanging a few words with the English soldiers on the far side, they had been free to return.
Nonetheless, as the second week of the siege turned into the third, the cordon round the city was beginning to have its effect. As well as the various forces round the walls, the men of Ulster out at Clontarf had successfully turned away all ships wanting to enter the Liffey. No supplies were reaching Dublin by any of the roads, and stocks of everything were slowly running down. Nor could news get through.
It had been months since she had heard from her father in Rouen.