Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [223]
“Do you know what I need at the moment, Peter FitzDavid?” he asked quietly.
“Another fog,” Peter suggested. “Then at least we could sneak out.”
“Perhaps. But what I need more than that is information. I need to know where the High King is and the exact disposition of his forces.”
So, he’s planning a breakout, Peter thought. There was no other option, really. But to have any hope of success, he’d need to take the besiegers by surprise.
“Do you want me to go out tonight and scout?” he asked. If he came back successfully that would certainly put him in high favour.
“Perhaps. I’m not sure you’d get through.” His eyes fixed on Peter’s, then lowered. “The archbishop and the young priest probably know. What’s his name? Father Gilpatrick. But I can’t ask them, of course.”
“I know Gilpatrick, but he’d never tell me.”
“No. You might ask his sister, though.” Strongbow’s gaze moved back towards the river. “Next time you see her.”
He knew. Peter felt himself go pale. He and how many others? But worse than the fact that he knew about the illicit affair, was what he was asking him to do. To use Fionnuala as a spy, or at least dupe her into revealing information. She probably didn’t even know anything, he thought; but that was hardly the point. If he wanted Strongbow’s favour, he’d better discover something.
Amazingly, his chance came that very afternoon, and it turned out to be easier than he could have imagined. They had made love in the house. They had an hour before she had to leave. They were talking casually about the O’Byrnes, who were due to come again the next day, and about her life at home. “I think,” he had remarked, “that Strongbow will have to give in to the High King soon. I can’t see this going on another month, and there’s no chance of anyone coming to help us.” He grinned. “I’ll be glad when it’s over. Then I can come and eat at your house as your father promised.
If you haven’t already married Brendan O’Byrne by then, that is,” he added uncertainly.
“Don’t be silly.” She laughed. “I shan’t marry Brendan. And the siege is bound to end.”
It was his opportunity.
“Really?” He seemed to be looking for reassurance. “Does Gilpatrick think so?”
“Oh, he does. I overheard him telling my father only yesterday that the High King has a camp only a short way upstream. He knows so well the English haven’t a chance that his men go bathing in the Liffey, every day.”
“They do?”
“With all the great chiefs. They haven’t a care in the world.”
Peter gasped. His face was just about to register his delight but he checked himself, looked glum, and murmured, “We haven’t a chance then. It’s as good as over.” He paused. “You’d better not tell anyone I said that, Fionnuala. If Strongbow ever heard it … they’d doubt my loyalty.”
“Don’t worry,” she said.
But already his mind was working fast.
The following afternoon, the sentries at the Irish forward posts saw Fionnuala leave the hospital and walk back as usual to the city’s western gate. Since they could not see the southern gate they never knew how long she spent in Dublin before returning to her home, and so they had no idea that she had proceeded to Peter’s lodgings and remained there until it was nearly dusk, at which time the lookout post near her father’s house observed her leave the southern gate and walk home.
It was almost dark when the sentries on the west side observed Fionnuala, with her saffron shawl wrapped over her head, returning to