by E. M. Powell
His pulse slackened, the words making sense with what had gone before. ‘De Lacy’s murder is an act of revenge for an old wrong, Theodosia. One that has fitted in with what John wanted, I admit, but—’
‘Benedict, John knew about this chieftain.’ Theodosia shook the letter at him. ‘The Fox. About The Fox’s hatred of Hugh de Lacy for the murder of his son. De Lacy told John himself, at the feast when he’d returned to Tibberaghny. I was there. I heard him.’
‘Just because John knew about this Sinnach, this Fox, doesn’t mean he was involved in de Lacy’s death.’ The words sounded hollow even as he spoke them.
‘Eight years.’ Theodosia shook the letter again. ‘Why would The Fox wait eight years to get his revenge on Hugh de Lacy? It makes no sense. Unless you think of who really wanted de Lacy out of the way.’
‘John.’ Palmer dragged a hand through his hair. ‘And he couldn’t manage it himself. But he found a way.’ He swore long and hard. ‘If your brother stood in front of me right now, I’d put a sword through him. No question.’
‘It would join mine,’ came Theodosia’s steely response. ‘But hold, let me read the clerk’s final words.’
Again, she read in silence. Again, she gasped.
I write this in haste as an addendum as events have changed immeasurably.
Geoffrey, Henry’s third son and Duke of Brittany, has been fatally wounded at a tournament in France, may God rest his soul. Henry is recalling John from his progress back to Ireland. The King has only two sons remaining now, so will be reconsidering how he rules his lands.
I believe that you, Sir Benedict, and the lady Theodosia should be on your highest guard.
‘There is no more.’ Her shocked gaze met his. ‘But John is so much nearer the throne of England. His power increases by the day.’
Palmer put his hand over her shaking one, a trembling that was born of fury. ‘Your father still has that throne. And Richard succeeds him.’ He pulled her to him, held her tightly in his arms. ‘We need have no fear of John.’
‘Oh, I think we do.’
‘He will be far too consumed with his new status to even think of us.’
‘And if he is not?’
‘He will be,’ he repeated. ‘I’m always right, remember?’
As the last of the sun’s golden light lit the room, Palmer offered up a prayer that he was.
But he would be taking Gerald’s advice very seriously.
Palmer would be on his highest guard. As he always was.
List of Characters
The majority of characters’ names and Irish place names used in this novel are in their Anglicised form. I have done this to aid clarity for readers who may not be familiar with the Irish language. For those who can read as Gaeilge, I hope you will forgive me.
The Normans
Sir Benedict Palmer, Lord of the Manor of Cloughbrook, Staffordshire
Lady Theodosia Palmer, wife of Sir Benedict and secret daughter of Henry II
Henry II, King of England
John, Lord of Ireland, youngest son of Henry II
Hugh de Lacy, Henry’s 1st Lord of Meath
Gerald of Wales, Royal Clerk to Henry II and adviser to the court
The Irish
Eimear, second wife of Hugh de Lacy and daughter of Rory O’Connor
Rory O’Connor, King of Connacht and High King of Ireland
Dermot McCarthy, King of Desmond
Donal O’Brien, King of Thomond
Matthew O’Heney, Archbishop of Cashel, Ireland
Historical Note
My story of John’s disastrous 1185 campaign in Ireland as Dominus Hiberniae is of course fictional, but much of the history and many of the places and events are real.
Theodosia’s experience of an earthquake (whilst still in England) might seem odd. But on 15 April 1185, a large earthquake did indeed take place. According to the British Geological Survey report, The Seismicity of the British Isles to 1600, sources record that it was felt throughout all of England, and was the worst ‘ever known in England’. ‘Stones were split, stone houses were thrown down’ and Lincoln Cathedral was badly damaged.
Twelfth-century Ireland was indeed viewed as a wild and inhospitable place by those on its neighbouring and larger island. It was genuinely perceived to be at the earth’s edge, for of course people had no idea what lay on the other side of the Atlantic. Those views of Ireland were largely reinforced by contemporary chroniclers, as most people in England had never set foot there. Gerald of Wales was one of the most prolific chroniclers, with his Topography of Ireland and The Conquest of Ireland among his extensive works. He did visit there twice.
Gerald portrayed Ireland as a natural resource in the most positive light, but his accounts of its people are extremely problematic. I have used many of his own views in the novel as, to put it simply, you just couldn’t make it up. But it’s important to remember that Gerald was on the side of the invaders. And if you make those you seek to conquer less than civilised, less than human, then you have the sword of justification in your hand. It’s a very powerful weapon and has never been sheathed for very long in human history. The history of Ireland is no exception.
Hugh de Lacy was also a real historical figure. De Lacy was originally Lord of Weobley in Herefordshire. His father had joined the Knights Templar and had signed his lordship over to Robert, his eldest son. Robert died childless, so Hugh inherited the title, which he had not expected to do, and became an important tenant of the Crown. That wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He married Rose of Monmouth, the widow of the powerful Baderon, increasing his prosperity. And he liked to acquire land, whether in England, Wales or Normandy. He also had a rather unfortunate tendency to simply take it. In 1171, de Lacy went with Henry II to Ireland. The kingdom of Mide (Meath) was a particularly attractive prize, and de Lacy made sure he won it.
We know quite a lot about de Lacy as a person, as Gerald wrote extensively of him. He was probably not the most handsome of men. Gerald’s description certainly does not flatter: ‘What Hugh’s complexion and features were like, he was dark, with dark, sunken eyes and flattened nostrils. His face was grossly disfigured down the right side as far as his chin by a burn, the result of an accident. His neck was short, his body hairy and sinewy. He was a short man. His build – misshapen.’ Gerald even included a picture of him in his Conquest of Ireland. Such detail is a gift to a novelist.
The trouble was, de Lacy was a bit too good at what he did – certainly as far as Henry was concerned. The King tried to clip de Lacy’s wings, recalling him to England several times and granting the lordship of Ireland to Henry’s own son, John, who was only around eleven years old at the time. But de Lacy was one step ahead. His first wife, Rose, had died around 1180. He married again, but this time he took an Irish wife, a daughter of the High King Rory O’Connor (Ruaidri Ua Conchobair) of Connacht. Some records name this woman as Rose also, but this is likely to be a confusion. I gave her the name Eimear, a warlike heroine from Irish legend.
This marriage was not well received by Henry. He had suspicions that de Lacy was attempting a strategic marriage in the same way that another of his men, Richard FitzGilbert de Clare (Strongbow), had done a decade earlier. Gerald certainly had a dim view of de Lacy’s ambitions: ‘He was avaricious and greedy for gold and more ambitious for his own advancement and pre-eminence than was proper.’
Henry’s solution was to send his son John, now eighteen (or possibly nineteen: there is some debate on the exact date of John’s birth), to Ireland in 1185 to assert his authority as Lord of Ireland. John’s mission, which started with him pulling the beards of the Irish dignitaries who came to greet him at Waterford, was not a success.
Frustratingly, there isn’t a great deal of detail about John’s campaign. Gerald is the main source of information. We know John built castles at Tibberaghny, Ardfinnan and Lismore. We know that he made serious errors of judgement, abandoning the prospect of the native Irish and the settlers being equal
partners and making huge grants of land to his friends. Gerald also writes of drunkenness, laziness and desertion by John’s men as well as their defeat on a number of occasions by the Irish.
John went back to England after nine months, complaining to Henry that de Lacy had been conspiring against him. This is highly unlikely. John was more than capable of failures of his own making.
Whether de Lacy had designs on taking Ireland from Henry, we will never know, for his life was brutally cut short. On 26 July 1186, de Lacy was inspecting his new castle at Durrow when he was murdered by a single assassin. Contemporary accounts tell us that the murderer had concealed an axe beneath his cloak, and he took de Lacy’s head off with one savage blow, and his head and body fell into the castle’s ditch.
The murderer was sent by a chieftain of Meath, Sinnach ‘the Fox’ Ua Catharnaig. Sinnach claimed that he ordered the murder to atone for the wanton destruction of land sacred to the great saint Colmcille, on which de Lacy had built his castle at Durrow. It’s more likely that it was simple revenge. One of Sinnach’s sons had been slain by Henry’s men some eight years previously, when Hugh de Lacy was the King’s representative in Ireland. Sinnach had always vowed to avenge that death.
I added the fiction of John’s involvement in de Lacy’s death. Whatever the real motive, it solved a problem for Henry. The powerful threat that was Hugh de Lacy was no more. Chronicler William of Newburgh recorded that ‘the news was gladly received by Henry’.
De Lacy was buried at Durrow, but his body was later removed to St Thomas’s Abbey to lie buried alongside his first wife. The Archbishop of Cashel, Matthew O’Heney, was instrumental in its removal.
The Rock of Cashel was an obvious choice for the climax of the novel, the events of which are entirely fictional. Henry II had visited there in 1171–72. Some of the buildings that still stand on Saint Patrick’s Rock appear in the novel as they would have stood there in 1185. The Round Tower, an architectural design that is unique to Ireland, is the site’s oldest building. Originally a bell tower, it dates from around 1100. Cormac’s Chapel, built by a king of Desmond (part of Munster) was consecrated in 1134. The ruins of the cathedral are not those of the cathedral that appears in my novel. That cathedral was built in the thirteenth century and added to over the centuries. Some sources claim that a cathedral was built there in 1169, and then replaced.
The mid-ninth-century High Cross is still there at Durrow, and the remains of the motte where de Lacy met his brutal end can be glimpsed through the trees.
Acknowledgements
As ever, there were many people who helped me in getting this novel to publication to whom I owe every thanks. Julia Jewels, the audience member who asked me (at the launch of my first novel, The Fifth Knight, at the Irish World Heritage Centre in Manchester) if I would ever write a book about medieval Ireland. I, of course, said no. But the seed was instantly planted, and now here is that book.
It has been in very safe hands. My agent, Josh Getzler, remains my cheerleader for all things medieval. Emile Marneur at Thomas & Mercer received the idea with great enthusiasm and encouragement. Also at Thomas & Mercer, Sana Chebaro has always been on hand to make sure the world gets to know about my novels. A special word of thanks must go to my editor, Katie Green, for her brilliant insights and for her patience that would make Job look twitchy.
There are many historians whose excellent work I have consulted and who are mentioned in the bibliography. Any errors and fictitious accounts are of course mine. But I would like to give sincere thanks to Dr Colin Veach for his answers to my detailed questions about Hugh de Lacy and for his generosity in sharing his knowledge.
Joe Newman-Getzler needs a special mention for the timely Idiot Plot reminder. Kevin McMahon of Manchester Irish Writers provided inspiration for names within my ridiculously restricted brief but came up trumps. Dan FitzEdward and re-enactors from Historia Normannis were utterly generous with their time and sharing of their huge amount of knowledge. Beta-readers Paul Fogarty and Graham Mather reported for duty as always. Stephanie Powell and John Ketch made the Rock of Cashel research extra fun, as well as making arrangements for it not to rain.
And my Jon and my Angela are, as always, my life.
Bibliography
Without the sterling work of historians, historical novelists could not do what they do, and I am no exception. Though I try to ground my fiction firmly in fact, any errors are down to me.
For anyone looking for an overview of the history of medieval Ireland, I recommend:
Seán Duffy, Ireland in the Middle Ages (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1997). Duffy also has an excellent chapter on John and Ireland in S.D. Church’s King John: New Interpretations (Suffolk: Boydell Press, 1999).
Art Cosgrove (ed.), A New History of Ireland, Volume II, Medieval Ireland 1169–1534 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).
Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, Early Medieval Ireland: 400–1200 (London: Longman, 1995).
Historian Marie Therese Flanagan is a wonderful read for those seeking to go deeper, with her publications Irish Society, Anglo-Norman Settlers, Angevin Kingship: Interactions in Ireland in the late 12th Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998) and The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century (Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2010).
She is also the author of the entry on Hugh de Lacy in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.
Colin Veach’s excellent Lordship in Four Realms: The Lacy Family, 1166–1241 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015) is invaluable for the history of Hugh de Lacy. Two further exemplary articles by Colin Veach on Hugh de Lacy’s history are:
‘Relentlessly striving for more’: Hugh de Lacy in Ireland, History Ireland: Features, 15(2) (March/April 2007).
‘A Question of Timing: Walter de Lacy’s Seisin of Meath 1189–94’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, Vol. 109C, pp. 165–194 (2009).
There are many, many books on King John. Three of my favourites are these:
W.L. Warren, King John (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981).
Frank McLynn, Lionheart & Lackland: King Richard, King John and the Wars of Conquest (London: Vintage Books, 2007).
Marc Morris, King John: Treachery, Tyranny and the Road to Magna Carta (London: Hutchinson, 2015).
And for those of you who want to hear more from the colourful Gerald of Wales:
Gerald of Wales, The History and Topography of Ireland (London: Penguin Classics, 1982).
A.B. Scott and F.X. Martin (eds), The Conquest of Ireland by Giraldus Cambrensis (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 1978).
About the Author
Photo © 2012 Angela Channell
E.M. Powell’s medieval thrillers, The Fifth Knight and The Blood of the Fifth Knight, have been #1 Amazon bestsellers. She reviews fiction and non-fiction for the Historical Novel Society, blogs for English Historical Fiction Authors and is a contributing editor to International Thriller Writers’ The Big Thrill magazine.
Born and raised in the Republic of Ireland into the family of Michael Collins, the legendary revolutionary and founder of the Irish Free State, she lives in north-west England with her husband, daughter and a Facebook-friendly dog. Find out more by visiting www.empowell.com.
