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know how much King Edward relies upon you, Sir Richard. You have the power to change his fortunes here. He needs the revenue only a man of your stature can provide in order to succeed in his fight against the Scots. Victory is close. His enemies suffered grave losses at Falkirk and a new campaign has been planned for the coming months, but the king’s treasury was drained by the war against his cousin in Gascony and the rebellion he was forced to crush in Wales. He has been compelled to raise taxes throughout his crown lands. We, every one of us, must suffer that burden if our king is to succeed in bringing Britain under his dominion.’
    ‘It was Ireland’s grain that fed his troops in Gascony and Wales,’ responded Ulster, his deep voice grinding over the chancellor’s mollifying tones. ‘My tenants and I suffered this burden long before today.’
    ‘And for that you have his gratitude. King Edward will reward your sacrifice when the war in Scotland is won. There are rich lands there, ripe for the picking.’
    Ulster rose, his gold-embroidered mantle of fine Flemish cloth shifting around his large frame as he walked to the windows, through which the steel-bright February sun was streaming. Beyond the panes of leaded glass Lough Rea was spread out before him, its blue expanse ruffled by wind. His family had built this castle, their chief stronghold in Connacht, and the walled town that surrounded it sixty years ago, but their supremacy in the land extended back further still to the Norman lords who sailed to Ireland under King John, continuing the conquest begun by his father, Henry II.
    Those men had carved out a broad swathe of territory from Cork to Antrim, taming the landscape under the plough, altering the face of it with castles, mills and towns. Here, in the fertile east, they settled for generations, the native Irish driven into the harsh, mountainous west. During those years, the de Burgh family had grown in prominence and power until, under Richard, they had reached their zenith. But things were changing. The Irish were pushing back. Already, there was war on the borders, native kings banding together to force out the English along the frontiers. The conquerors’ control was deteriorating as the economy weakened under King Edward’s increasing demands.
    How galling, Ulster thought, now to be looking down from the heights of the illustrious position he had attained and seeing only the slope of decline. He turned to the chancellor. ‘The building of my new castle at Ballymote has put a strain on my resources and with the exodus of so many of our countrymen, unable to protect themselves from Irish brigands, I am left to shoulder the duties of many. Whole settlements have been abandoned by those choosing to return to England. The more men leave, the more soldiers the rest of us have to find for the breach. If King Edward takes much more, we will no longer be able to hold back the tide of felons and marauders who wait on our borders, testing them always for signs of weakness.’
    Ulster paused, his attention snared by a tall, well-built man in a sky-blue cloak, who had moved into the chamber past two servants carrying out a chest. ‘But I will do whatever I can for my lord. You have my word on that.’ Ulster strode from the window. ‘Show the Lord Chancellor and his men to lodgings,’ he ordered one of his servants, before confronting the man in the doorway, who looked as though he had ridden through several nights. The captain’s cloak was stained with horse sweat, his hair unkempt, eyes shadowed.
    ‘Sir Esgar? What brings you?’
    Esgar inclined his head, his cloak parting to reveal the glimmer of mail. ‘I bear tidings, my lord, from the north.’
    ‘Walk with me.’ Ulster headed from the chamber, leaving the chancellor and clerks to gather up their rolls.
    The captain fell into step beside the earl as he led the way along the passage. All around, people hurried about their duties, making ready to