Page 60 of Bound By Honor
Rob lifted his gaze to the ceiling.
Angus was certain it would be their last moment of levity for some time.
Tirconnell, Ulster, September, 1294
IN MID-JULY, A GREAT storm swept across the country. Angus had never endured so much rain. It pounded crops until they lay dying on the ground, soaked beyond saving. For days, he and his men were rarely dry. The downpour persisted through August and into September. Many days, he thanked God for Áine O’Cahan’s foresight in giving him the oiled cloak and cloths to cover their provisions.
In the rain’s wake, famine stalked the land. So desperate were people for food they risked encounters with Turlough’s army and Angus’ galloglass to beg for sustenance. Angus and his men shared what they could. It did not help that King Edward, indifferent to the plight of the peasantry, continued to ship what grain there was to England to feed his armies preparing to invade Gascony.
Angus’ men managed to hunt while game could be found. The rivers gave forth fish and that added to their meals. Some days, they existed on rabbit stew and wild plants.
Despite the rain, a few encounters with the O’Donnell army had taken place, though none were conclusive. As soon as the fighting waned, their enemy was off into the woods. While there had been injuries among Angus’ men, there had been no deaths. Still, the physicians he’d brought with him were kept busy.
After days in the woods tracking O’Donnell’s army, they had set up camp, taking shelter in their tents, glad for a respite from the constant rain. There, a messenger from the Red Earl reached Angus and Rob with reports of the fighting in the south.
“The earl has left the siege of Sligo Castle to Aed O’Connor and his men,” said the dripping messenger. “It goes well and The O’Connor is optimistic the fitz Thomas castle will not long stand. As a result, the Earl of Ulster has taken half the army and ridden southeast to Kildare with Sir Hugh and Sir Thomas.”
“What has happened in Kildare?” asked Angus.
“One of the earl’s scouts reported that fitz Thomas has unleashed his Irish allies on the town. The followers of one William Donyn have broken into the castle and robbed it and the surrounding town of money, cloth, grain and livestock.”
Rob shook his head. “Food and supplies Kildare could ill afford to lose with the famine.”
“The earl worries they will burn the castle,” said the messenger.
Angus did not hear more of the report as the shrill sound of a sentry’s horn sounded, interrupting the messenger. Sharing a quick glance with Rob and Duncan, Angus jumped up, responding to what could only be a call to battle. Arming himself with sword and dagger, he reminded Rob to stay close.
John came running into their tent. “O’Donnell’s men are attacking! We are summoned to arms!”
Angus threw his oiled cloak around his mail and, grabbing his axe, raced from the tent with Duncan and Rob on his heels. There was no time for horses that might slip and slide on the muddy ground. No time to organize beyond a few shouted commands to his galloglass and his captains who came to him.
In the dim afternoon light, Angus peered through the rain to see the O’Donnell forces pouring across the open ground like a squall from the sea, clashing with the combined forces of Turlough and the Macdonalds. Angus shouted to his archers, “Into the trees and high ground!”
There was no time to think, only to fight. His galloglass warriors were already wielding their axes, cutting down the men streaming toward them. He joined them, slicing through the necks he could reach with his axe.
The next two hours were a blur as Angus fought hard to defeat the Irish warriors while protecting John when he could and assuring that Rob was not felled by an axe. Duncan, he prayed, would hold his own.
Swinging his axe in a wide curve, he wounded one man’s arm, inflicting a terrible gash. His axe found the necks of others. Soon it was dripping blood.
Rob fought at Angus’ side, wielding his blade with a knight’s skill to find openings in their enemies’ armor. The sounds of metal clashing and men’s grunts as they took a blade filled the air in the clearing.
Angus’ galloglass fought with them, cutting down any of O’Donnell’s men who escaped the blades of Angus, his companions and Islesmen. He had tasked some of his galloglass with protecting the young O’Cahan chiefs should he not be able to do so. He trusted them to cling to their charges.
His archers had made it to the trees and were launching arrows through the air that were inflicting a toll on the enemy.
When a galloglass he did not recognize came charging toward him with his sparth axe poised to strike, Angus crouched and swung his axe low, slicing across the man’s legs. With a groan, the galloglass dropped to the mud.
At his side, Rob blocked the swords of the men rushing toward him. But against a sparth axe, he did not have the advantage. When a galloglass targeted his friend, Angus came from behind the enemy and, holding the handle of his axe at either end, he swung the wooden haft over the head of the galloglass and, with a sharp pull back, broke his neck.
Rob smiled his thanks and turned to confront another O’Donnell swordsman.
From what Angus could see, John was prevailing against his opponents. He had learned much since his first fight with their father.
The field of battle was soon full of clashing blades and men’s shouts. The fighting grew close. Bodies were pressed in so tightly it was difficult to tell who was friend and who was foe. Exchanging his axe for his sword, Angus shouted to his companions, “Backs together!”
The four of them stood back-to-back, a mighty bulwark against the fierce enemy whose swords and axes were bent on their destruction. Keeping to the tight formation, they defeated all who came close. But not without injuries. Angus took a blade to one arm, slicing through his cloak though his mail prevented a crippling wound. Duncan sustained a blow from the flat side of a sword.
When the fighting subsided and the air gave rise only to the groans of the wounded, Angus scanned the battlefield. The rain that was now subsiding had washed much of the blood from the mail of those still standing. Turning to his companions, he asked, “Are you all well?”
