Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [331]
The week after Kildare’s departure, Walsh stayed in Dublin for three days, and Margaret wondered if he was seeing Joan Doyle; but when he returned he was looking grave, and the news he brought put all other considerations out of her mind.
“It’s the lease on our Church land,” he told her. “You know it’s up for renewal this year. I’ve just had Archbishop Alen’s terms.” He shook his head. “It seems,” he added grimly, “that he won’t even negotiate.” The terms were crushing. The rent was more than doubled. “And the trouble,” explained Walsh, “is that as a lawyer and steward myself, I’d do the same in the archbishop’s place. The land is worth what he asks.” He sighed. “But he’s taken away most of my profit.”
For two days he considered the problem from every angle. Then, finally, he announced, “I shall have to go to London to see Richard.” He left at the start of March.
They were not the only ones affected in this way. During the coming weeks Margaret heard of several families who were being forced off their Church estates, some of them even kinsmen of Kildare himself. Under normal circumstances, even the Archbishop of Dublin would hesitate to offend the Fitzgeralds, and she wondered what this meant. Meanwhile, the news from England suggested that events there had reached a crisis.
“The Pope’s excommunicated Henry.” London was secure, but there were fears that there could be risings in the outer regions, especially the north and west, where the traditional loyalties were very strong. It was rumoured, even, that the Hapsburg Emperor might send an invasion from Spain. For all his arrogant bluster, the Tudor king could lose his throne if this came to pass. And then, at the end of the month, William Walsh returned. She would never forget the evening he arrived, standing in the doorway, and announced, “I have brought someone with me.”
Richard. Her Richard. The same Richard, with his red hair, merry eyes, and smiling face, but taller, stronger, even more handsome than when he had left. Richard, the strapping young man, who enfolded her in his arms. If he had felt bitter disappointment at being forced to leave London and return home, he concealed it for her sake. For this, Walsh told her that night, was the conclusion he and Richard had come to when they discussed the business together in London. “We can’t afford to keep him in London anymore. He’ll come and live with us for a while. I can certainly help him get a start in Dublin.” So he was home at last, to stay. Every cloud, she thought privately to herself, has a silver lining. And what, she wondered, was to be done with the Church estate? “I shall give it up,” said Walsh. “In the meantime,” he grimaced, “there’ll be no new gowns for you or cloaks for me for a while.”
The month of April was mainly devoted to Richard. His father did not leave him at home to be idle. For several days he took him up into Fingal. Then they went down into Munster for ten days. He also took him into Dublin where, his father was glad to report, “He charmed all he met.” Margaret had to admire her husband’s activity. By early May, Richard seemed to know everybody.
“And who in Dublin has impressed you most?” she asked her son one evening, as they were sitting by the fire together.
“I think,” he replied after a moment’s thought, “perhaps the merchant, Doyle. I’ve never met a man who knew his business better. And of course his wife,” he added cheerfully, “is lovely.”
If Walsh was pleased with his son, however, the news he was hearing in Dublin caused him more concern. When the Earl of Kildare arrived in London, he had been courteously received. But in mid-May, a number of his household arrived back in Dublin with the news that his health was failing and that King Henry had abruptly deprived him of his governorship and refused to give it to his son. Even worse: “Can you believe it,” they protested, “he’s sending the Gunner again.” Word also came that several of the Butler clan were to have key appointments in the new administration. But perhaps the most ominous