Bab 18: Chapter18: Silent Dublin
The principle of stabilizing internal affairs before dealing with external threats was certainly true in Ireland.
Henry II was in his palace at Oxford, poring over intelligence reports from Ireland. Outwardly, he showed no sign of concern, but inwardly, he was deeply worried about the situation in Ireland.
"This year, Dublin's taxes haven't been sent again, and the excuse is the same old one: the route was attacked," Henry II's voice was filled with resignation and concern. "That old Irish woman has no intention of submitting at all."
Old Roches stood by Henry II, not knowing what to say.
"Your Majesty, rest assured, all of England and Ireland will be your domain, and everyone on this land will submit to you." A sharp, irritating male voice rang in Old Roches' ear.
Henry II shook his head. "No, Baldrick, you don't understand."
Upon hearing the King disagree with him, Baldrick wisely closed his mouth.
"If he's smart enough, he should take his army to Dublin."
Old Roches nodded in agreement with Henry II's suggestion. "I believe the Prince will think of that."
After speaking, he regretted it a bit.
Henry II did not respond but instead remained silent, seemingly contemplating something. Once a quick-tempered and fiery monarch, Henry II had grown more restrained with age.
The silence of a middle-aged man conveyed more power than words, and everyone could see the worry in Henry II's eyes.
Meanwhile, in Ireland, John did not disappoint Henry II's expectations.
John's army was marching along the route from Waterford to Dublin. Though called a route, John thought it was merely an area with fewer trees.
In all of Ireland, there was not a single decent road. The entire 110-mile journey was through nothing but muddy terrain.
However, what troubled John more than the muddy roads was the situation in Dublin.
As a prince, John expected Dublin to send emissaries to inquire about his status and provide supplies for his troops, welcoming him into the city.
Yet now, with only ten miles left to Dublin, there was no sign of any such welcome.
All the royal guards understood that such behavior within the Kingdom of England could mean only one thing—rebellion.
The knights whispered this among themselves, and John did not stop them. As a result, the entire atmosphere of the army grew increasingly heavy.
No one knew the true situation in Dublin.
John rode on his jolting horse, trying to figure out the reasons behind the silence. Dublin was not a city built by the Irish; it was a typical colonial city established by the Vikings. The nobles in the city were knights brought by Longbow Richard over a decade ago.
Longbow Richard had married Aoife, the daughter of the former King of Leinster, and declared himself the King of Leinster, ruling over eastern Ireland with Dublin as his capital. He had defeated all his rivals on the island, including Viking King Ascall and High King Rodri.
However, he was eventually overthrown by Henry II.
After Longbow Richard's death, Dublin was taken into the royal fold, but the people there remained the same knights Richard had brought over. This led to a problem: although Longbow Richard was dead, his son Gilbert and wife Aoife were still alive. The nobles unwilling to submit to the Plantagenet royal family gathered around Richard's descendants.
Unsure of what to do, John turned to Guillaume. "Guillaume, should we send someone to scout the situation first?"
Guillaume nodded. In his experience, this was always the king's approach.
"Then send someone to the city to find out what's going on," John said, glancing at Guillaume and Jacques, who was standing beside him.
This young man, who had recently emerged from the dungeon, had proven his worth in the past few days. He not only could read and write Latin but also knew many obscure pieces of knowledge.
In an era rife with illiteracy, he was considered a highly educated individual. However, despite his intellect, he was still someone who had been pulled out of a prison cell.
"I am willing to go, Your Highness," Jacques offered, perceptively. "If you think I am trustworthy."
Sending an envoy didn't require much trust, but John's main concern was that the other side might refuse negotiations and execute the envoy instead.
"Go ahead," John said, looking at Jacques. "Tell them to send someone from the city to meet me."
Jacques nodded and set off towards Dublin with John's message.
After sending him off, John turned to look at his troops. The army was not large, but most of the men were professional soldiers. In the small confines of Ireland, they were a formidable force.
John decided to march a little further before setting up camp for the night.
Ahead lay a small hill with dry land and ample water supply, making it an ideal spot for setting up camp.
Under John's command, the knights from Lancaster led the way up the hill, driving the Irish laborers to set up the camp. John's tent was erected first; though it was called a "large tent," it was only slightly larger than the other soldiers' tents. The most important items inside were John's journals, which were strictly private.
After organizing his belongings, John stepped outside his tent, observing his soldiers' activities. The knights supervised their squires while the mercenaries had to handle the work themselves.
"Your Highness," Guillaume appeared from somewhere, looking like he had something to say about Jacques.
Seeing Guillaume's hesitant expression, John shrugged and gestured for him to continue.
"Jacques is a good lad," Guillaume began. "He speaks well, is not reckless, and can read and write. He's a promising young man." Guillaume watched John's expression closely. "I was wondering if I could take him on as my squire."
Impressive. In just a few days, Guillaume had grown fond of this young man from the monastery.
John didn't know much about Jacques, but he trusted Guillaume's intentions. "Sure, if he performs well, it wouldn't hurt to promote him a bit."
Guillaume nodded eagerly, about to leave when John pulled him back.
John said, "Where's that Earl of Bedford? Bring him here; I want to talk to him."
"The Earl of Bedford?" Guillame looked at John in confusion, unsure of what John intended to do. But he knew better than to inquire too deeply into matters concerning the royal family.
By the time he brought the Earl of Bedford over, John had already found a small stool to sit on. The Earl of Bedford looked robust and well-built, but his character was unexpectedly timid, lacking the martial spirit and ambition of his ancestors who were conquerors.
Seeing the earl shrinking in fear, John found it somewhat ridiculous. Men like the Earl of Bedford were still a minority now, but what about in the future? As generations passed, what would English nobles become if they lost their martial prowess and ambition, becoming no different from the nobility on the European continent?
"Richard, come here," John gestured towards the Earl of Bedford, who timidly approached him.
John looked at his face and sighed, "I'm not out for your life, Richard. I just want to ask you something. What do you know about that Aquitaine man?"
"He... he has a high-pitched voice, and he speaks French very strangely. He doesn't have a beard, and his hair is short," the Earl of Bedford said. "Your Highness, that Aquitaine man is truly a wicked and cunning fellow."
John was tired of hearing these descriptions, the standard template of a villain. While John pondered, the Earl of Bedford observed John's expression. He feared that any wrong answer might displease John, sealing his fate today.
"Alright, so why did you get involved with that Aquitaine man in the first place?" When this question was posed, the Earl of Bedford hesitated for a moment and said, "Because... because he said he was sent by Prince Richard. He said if I helped him, Prince Richard would grant me a portion of Gloucester County."
John nodded. "So, it all boils down to bribery..."
"No, no, Your Highness, that's not it at all," the Earl of Bedford quickly defended himself. "It's absolutely not like that."
Before he could continue, John raised a hand to stop him. Such feeble excuses were spiritually polluting to hear, and John had no intention of pursuing blame.
After a moment of silence, John spoke again, "You know, you've committed treason. I'm considering whether to follow procedure and have you executed."
The prospect of such an outcome was completely unacceptable to the Earl of Bedford, who hastily pleaded, "Your Highness, please show mercy. I really didn't intend to commit such a crime. I was just greedy for a moment..."
John didn't listen to what he was saying. He watched the Earl of Bedford's panicked eyes and the large beads of sweat on his forehead. These physical reactions spoke more truthfully than words.
"I'll give you a chance to make amends," John stood up and patted the Earl of Bedford's shoulder.
This cryptic statement left the Earl of Bedford stunned. "A chance to make amends?"
John smiled but didn't say anything. Instead, he looked at Jacques returning from the camp gate, the young lad riding on horseback and unsteadily coming back to John, then kneeling down.
"Your Highness, the nobles in Dublin don't want to meet us,"
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