Elizabeth Chadwick Bundle by Elizabeth Chadwick

Author:Elizabeth Chadwick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

“Your plans to curtail the Marshal appear to have suffered a setback, if the news from Leinster is true,” King John remarked acidly to Meilyr. Having dined in the great hall, he had retired to his private apartments with his favourites and advisers, among them the Irish lords who had accompanied William Marshal across the sea. It pleased John to fête them. In keeping them by his side and barring William from his private domain, it also ensured that the Marshal had but slender access to his vassals.

Meilyr scowled. “It is only a minor check, sire, and it wouldn’t have happened if I had been there to lead the operation.”

“But the Marshal wasn’t there either,” drawled Gerard D’Athée who was sitting on a painted coffer, arms folded and thin features clad with a contemptuous expression.

Meilyr bared his teeth at him. “No, but he brought his dissenting vassals with him and left behind the strength of his mesnie. He deliberately left his English knights in Ireland, and I know for certain that he has given authority to Stephen D’Evereux because he’s wed to a de Lacy woman.” He turned to John, his manner as pugnacious and fierce as a terrier with the scent of a fox in its nostrils. “Sire, if you give me permission to return to Ireland, I swear I will visit the Marshal lands with a rod of iron and personally see his ambition curbed. The same goes for de Braose.”

D’Athée gave a cynical snort. “If you can manage that, then not just your rod but your balls are made of iron.”

Meilyr FitzHenry glared at the mercenary. “They are,” he snapped. “No man who followed Richard de Clare had anything else. My grandsire was King of England when the Marshals were no more than glorified stable boys with dung on their hands.”

D’Athée raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.

John knew it had been a deliberate ploy on Meilyr’s part to mention their kinship, albeit that the line was a bastard one and Welsh on the distaff side. He could well do without the Welsh. “I do not doubt the state of your manhood,” he said with a sardonic smile. “You have my permission to return to Ireland and use it to beat down some walls.”

Meilyr thanked him, then leaned forward, his expression filled with cunning. “Sire, I would have an even greater chance of success if you were to arrange to recall the men the Marshal has left in Ireland who owe you service.”

John eyed him with fresh interest.

“Order them back to England under threat of confiscating their lands if they refuse,” Meilyr elaborated. “Jean D’Earley is your tenant-in-chief and he has much to lose if he declines your summons. It will leave me a free hand to act in your interests— as your justiciar.”

John toyed with the sapphires and rubies hanging around his neck on a gold chain. Despite himself he was rather impressed. Meilyr was a man after his own heart. If the direct route was barred, then digging a tunnel and undermining the enemy was the next resort.

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