Another trumpet-blast, and a resplendent herald stepped forward, to intone:
The mighty ORourke, King of Meath, offers greeting to Robert, King of Scots.
A thick-set, grizzled man rose from one of the chairs and held a hand high, unspeaking.
Bruce inclined his head.
Another trumpet.
The illustrious MacMurrough, King of Leinster, offers greeting to Robert, King of Scots.
A giant of a man, but strangely bent to one side from some ancient wound, went through the same procedure.
The high-born OBrien, King of Minister, offers greeting to Robert, King of Scots.
A white-haired and bearded ancient, fine featured, serene, but frail, stood with difficulty and raised a quivering arm. Bruce knew him by repute as a sacker of monasteries and ruthless slayer of women and children, but bowed nevertheless.
The next, a kinsman, OBrien, King of Thomond, was little more than a child, a pimply, fair-haired youth who scowled-perhaps with reason, for his father was alleged to have been boiled to death in a cauldron by the previous saintly-looking welcomer barely a year before.
The puissant OCarroll, King of Uriel. A slender dark elegant, who would have been supremely handsome but for a cast in one eye, made flourish of his salute, while Bruce decided that he would not trust him one yard.
The sixth to rise was the valiant MacCarthy, King of Desmond, a man almost as broad as he was high, with long arms which hung to his knees, said to have the strength of an ox. He, certainly, would be an excellent man to have at ones side.
The amiable, red-headed ONeil, King of Tyrone, was next, and hurried through his performance with some embarrassment, barely rising from his seat.
Last rose OConnor, King of Connaught, first among equals, who should have been High Kinghad the others been prepared to accept him. A studious, delicate-seeming man, he looked more of a scholar than a warrior. He alone did not raise his hand, but bowed towards Bruce, stiffly formal.
Then the trumpets sounded once more, louder and longer, and the herald took a deep breath.
The serene, right royal and victorious Lord Edward, king of kings, by Gods grace Ard Righ, High King of All Ireland, greets the Lord Robert, King of Scots, and welcomes him to this his realm and kingdom.
Edward broke the pattern. He did not stand up, or raise his hand, or even bow.
Come, brother, he said, conversationally.
You are late. I looked for you hours ago. Have you not some captain, some horse or baggage master, capable of settling your people into quarters?
Bruce eyed this good-looking, awkward brother of his, biting back the hot words-as seemed to be ever necessary.
I came here to play the captain rather than the monarch, Edward, he said evenly.
I shall continue to do so.
Mmm. The other considered that. He shrugged.
Come, anyway, Robert. It is good to see you, however … delayed. All Ireland welcomes you. Come-sit here.
Bruce nodded, and moved unhurriedly up between the seated kings. He stood, looking down at his brother for a few moments before he sat down in the lesser throne.
You are content, now? he said, smiling a little.
Content? Edward frowned.
How mean you-content?
Why-High King! So very high!
It is the style. The Celtic style.
Aye. I seem to have been climbing, ever since I set foot on Irish soil! And now my neck suffers stretching! The elder brother exaggerated the necessary upward-looking posture somewhat, from his lower chair.
The other ignored that. He clapped his hands.
The music. The dancing. Resume, he called.
You like my dancers, Robert?
They are very fair. And doubtless they do more than dance?
But I might have esteemed them better as cooks! Or even scullions,
brother! We have travelled far, and our bellies in more need of
distraction than our eyes and ears! You will be feasting in
plenty, anon, never fear. Be patient. As I had to be, awaiting you! Much of my provision was spoiled. By the delay. My cooks are working to repair that delay. We would have eaten well, two hours ago, brother. Roasted peacocks. Breast of swan. Sucking boar seethed in malvoisie. Spiced salmon. Peppered lobster. Woodcock …
We would have eaten well, to be sure. But the men I brought-what of them? I found no provision made for them, cold, tired, hungry. This is the first day of December, Edward-winter is on us. Even in Ireland! To have them lie under the open sky …!
It is an army you have brought, is it not? Not a parcel of clerks or women! I faith-in the past, our armies found their own meat and shelter well enough! Did they not?
Curiously Bruce considered his brother.
You say that? You would have me turn my people loose on your land? To do their will? An army foraging! Is that the King of Ireland speaking?
From the man who burned half of Scotland, and more than once, you are becoming exceeding nice, I think! the other gave back.
Robert drew a long breath.
Remember that, Edward, when your Abbot of White Abbey comes making complaint that I have misused his property! he said grimly.
Now-what of the enemy?
The English? Do they press heavily? How far south are your
outposts?
And where is my god-father, Ulster… ?
Edward was not, in fact, eager to discuss the strategic position;
but thereafter, and especially when presently they moved into the banqueting-hall, next to the kitchens across the courtyard, where he found the soldierly MacCarthy, King of Desmond, sitting at his right hand, Bruce did learn sufficient to give him a fair overall picture.
Hostilities were at the moment more or less suspended, without there
being any accepted truce, while both sides regrouped and drew on their
strength-or so Edward described it. He had had to give up Dundalk
* where the coronation had taken place-and their farthest south
outposts were at Downpatrick and the line of the Quoile River, not thirty miles south of Belfast Lough. North of that was in their hands, although there were one or two Anglo-Irish lords holding out. The entire west side of the country was an unknown quantity, although some of the chiefs there believed to be in revolt. In fact, only Ulster was secure-and not all of that, it seemed. Edward might be King of All Ireland, but three-quarters of the country had yet to be convinced of it.
Not even all the Irish princes were on Edwards side.
OHanlonMacMahon, Maguire and MacGoffey were known to be cooperating
with the English meantime, as well as many lesser chieftains.
Some would change sides at the first sign of success, no doubt; but the reverse might well apply with others presently accepted as loyal.
However, all the news was not of this calibre. The English leadership seemed to be having its own troubles. Nobody was very sure who was in command. Sir Edmund Butler, the Justiciar, over whom Edward and Moray had won a victory earlier, had been thereafter replaced, on orders from London, by Roger, Lord Moe timer. But at the same time, a tough and militant cleric, John de Hotham, Bishop of Ely, had been sent over as Chancellor of Ireland, and political overlord, and there was bad blood between him and Mortimer. The de Lacy brothers, important Anglo-Irish Lords of Meath, appeared to be offended at both of these appointments, and with their friends and allies were not exactly in revolt but were refusing to cooperate. Most uncertain of all was Richard de Burghs position. As Earl of Ulster he was the greatest of the Anglo-Irish nobles-indeed the native Irish referred to the Anglo Irish as the Race of Richard Burke-as well as the foremost commander in age as in seniority and in rank, of any in Ireland; and had more than once acted as commander-in-chief of Irish forces.