It's All About Timing (Part 2)
The conclusion to the short story inspired by my Munster playthrough of "Crusder Kings III" (2020)
At about noon, Domnall found the ground dry enough to take action. Even though their numbers were inferior, Domnall chose to attack. Murchad wondered if his Marshal wanted to take advantage of an aggressive approach to compensate for their inferior numbers, or if he was just trying to get himself killed as soon as possible. Regardless, a courier arrived on the hill bringing the royal ring from the Marshal to the king. Murchad accepted it solemnly; some of his knights were moved to tears.
Ruaidri's army started moving as well. From the top of the hill, it seemed like the ground was muddier in the center of the plain, as the two armies were marching very slowly after a fast start. Eventually, however, they met right at the center.
The enemy army tried to surround Domnall's line, but somehow the Marshal kept them away from his sides. However, it was soon clear to the observers on the hill that the army of Munster would be slowly butchered.
Everyone started to lose their temper very quickly. Sir Findscop came to the king and asked if they could make preparations to leave. "The closest of our castles we can reach safely is in the county of Leinster. A journey of a day and a bit."
"There will be no need for that," said Murchad calmly. "On the contrary, let's make ourselves more comfortable. Will you arrange a fire, so we can cook some meat?"
Findscop paled. "But-"
"Will you do this favor for your king? Please?"
Murchad was no English tyrant. He was always open to talk and, most importantly, to listen. But sometimes, he simply wanted to be trusted and, most importantly, obeyed. Findscop felt it was one of those moments, so he bowed and left to arrange a fire.
They had just lit the fire when Sir Aed yelled, "There's another army coming out of the forest!"
Everyone gathered to see. As the knight had said, a large army of soldiers, at least twice Ruaidri's army, was running to join the battle. In a matter of minutes, the plain was crowded with battling men. Without any doubt, they were fighting against Ruaidri.
"The pork," said Murchad with a thin smile on his lips. Many knights turned to him, confused. "You've left the pork to burn on the fire, fellas."
At sunset, the battle was won. Ruaidri's army was no more, and his commander himself had been captured. Murchad and his company were finishing their meal when a single man, covered in mud from head to toe, joined them. It was Marshal Domnall.
Murchad went alone to meet him.
"So," he said wryly. "In the end, we won, fella."
Domnall didn't answer.
"What's the matter? Lost your tongue in the mud? By the way, you look terrible."
"Must be very funny for ya."
"It is, I'll admit. It's very funny."
"I spoke with Count Rhiwallon," said Domnall dryly.
"He came in person? What a man! I'll go thank him later. I saw his army joining our camp. Wonderful. Hope the men will enjoy some drinks."
"You knew he was coming to aid us."
"Of course I knew! Do you think I'd be still here if I hadn't known he was coming?"
"He's a vassal of King Richard. How did you get him here? The English king doesn't want his men to fool around."
"Oh, that wasn't much of a problem," said Murchad. He pointed at Thomas, who was emptying a gallon of beer as the knights around him cheered him up. "My good attendant, Thomas, all the credit to him. He's a nephew of Richard, remember? He helped me arrange a deal with Richard to let Rhiwallon come to our aid. They were all extremely reasonable."
"It must have taken months."
Murchad pensively played with his beard. "Mh, yes. I'd say between three and five months of negotiations."
"So while I was preparing for war against Ruaidri, you were looking for allies. Even though you agreed to let me conduct the war alone."
"Exactly."
Domnall spat on the ground. "You lying bastard."
"You can say that."
"I cried in front of you. What was all that talk about atoning for my mistakes? Why didn't you tell me then?"
"Because you caused me more than one headache with your stubbornness. I had told you many times we couldn't win this war alone. But, oh, you were too proud to accept help all of a sudden."
"So what? Wanted to teach me a lesson?"
"More or less. Did you learn anything?"
"Yes. That my king is a snake and that I should have kicked your ass when I had the chance!"
"You mean when I conquered your county and made you my vassal?"
"Your army was a bunch of idiots before I became your Marshal! You'd have no chance to defeat me!"
"And yet, I did. Because I called for allies that time as well, while you were already the dumbest prick in Ireland!"
They stayed silent for a while. Then, Domnall mumbled something.
"What? Can't hear you. Have you got mud in your throat as well?"
"You were right. Sorry."
Murchad smiled and went to hug him. After a moment of hesitation, Domnall hugged him too.
"Think if I had died in the plain," said Domnall. "You'd have taught a lesson to a dead body."
"Knew you'd survive. You're the luckiest idiot in my kingdom."
"Can I have my ring back, please?"
"No. It won't suit you anymore."
Domnall paled. "Am-am I not the Marshal anymore?"
"Not the Marshal of Munster. I'll have a new one forged for the new Marshal of the Kingdom of Ireland."