The Lord of Ireland (The Fifth Knight Series Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

this responsibility as part of his humble service to me. I have been to that isle, and I know that there are great challenges to be faced. Yet my son has agreed to face them and to bring glory to my name.’
    A rumble of approval met Henry’s words.
    ‘Before I bestow this honour upon him, I want to remind hi m – to remind us all – of the magnitude of what he is undertaking. My royal clerk, Gerald of Wales, learned in the ways of the Irish and of the land itself, will impart that knowledge to us all.’
    An angular monk stepped up to the altar , his sparse lips compressed in readiness below a hooked nose. He bowed to Henry, then to John.
    ‘Gerald, let us hear of what awaits my son.’
    And my husband.
    ‘Your Grace, my Lord John.’ Gerald’s voice sounded as clear as if he stood next to her and Benedict, ringing with authority. ‘The great Saint Columbanus, his wisdom echoing down the centuries to us, wrote of the Irish that they are the dwellers at the edge of the earth. Such a true description must have been guided by God. They cling to that rock, for beyond it there is no habitation of man or beast. One looks from the western horizon there, knowing that there is nothing beyond. Nothing except the flowing ocean in boundless space.’ He let the word resound to the lofty height of t he arc hed roof far above before continuing. ‘At such extremes, nature provides wonders, and there are some on that island. But’ – his tone hardened – ‘nature also indulges herself in freaks there: distant and secret abominations that make my soul quail.’
    A rustle of whispered concern passed through those present.
    Theodosia’s mouth dried. Henry had not mentioned any of this. She shot Benedict a look, but his fixed gaze remained on Gerald.
    ‘Such abominations will have to be met with valour by the King’s son, of which I have no doubt.’ Gerald sighed and shook his head. ‘But there is a far greater threat: that of its native people.’
    A greater threat. Theodosia’s heart tripped faster in anxiety.
    ‘A people who are wild.’ Gerald’s thin lips turned down. ‘Inhospitable. They live on beasts only, for they live like beasts.’ He clenched his fist and beat time with the steady flow of his own words. ‘Filthy. Wallowing in vice. Adulterous.’
    Shocked gasps began to break out.
    Gerald’s voice rose over them. ‘Incestuous. Carnal with beasts.’ His eyes scanned the assembly as he let his scandalous words sink in.
    Theodosia put a hand to her mouth. What was Benedict goin g to?
    Gerald held a hand up and received instant silence. ‘But for all of their enormous vices , the Irish possess one that dwarfs all the others.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Treachery. Above all the peoples of th e ea rt h, th ey prefer wile to war. They always carry an axe in their hand, like a shepherd might carry his crook, ready for when the right occasion presents itself. And when it does . . .’ His voice dropped.
    Those present craned to hear him, necks bent like a field of wheat in the wind. Theodosia too. She could not help herself.
    ‘They raise that axe to afflict a mortal blow!’ His words thundered forth to calls for God’s help for John.
    Henry’s shout silenced them in a heartbeat. ‘ It is time !’ John lifted his arms and looked up at his father.
    The bishop stepped forward, holding a gleaming sword and a belt of finest ox-blood leather.
    Henry took them from him and bent to fasten the weapon around his son’s waist. With a tender kiss to John’s cheek, he straightened up, taking his own sword from the bishop.
    As Henry raised it, Theodosia crossed herself, as did every other right hand of those around her and throughout the crowd, their number making a rustle that could have been the stirring of leaves.
    The blade met John’s shoulder to a murmured prayer from Henry.
    And it was done.
    Take your acclaim , my son .’ The King ’ s voice shook with his emotion . ‘My most holy and noble servants, I