Part 5 (see note above): A New Direction
Above: The discovery of the murder of John Darcy, Duke of Meath, as seen in Shakespeare's Maurice (Act II, Scene III)
Limerick, February 1353
Maurice the Younger, 2nd Earl of Desmond sat in what had until recently been the office of the Mayor of Limerick and pondered the map across his wall. There - splendidly laid out in expensive thread, was a representation of the various families and dynasties of Ireland. He had taken the opportunity of, ahem, liberating it before it's previous owner had been gently booted into exile.
The FitzGeralds had been in Ireland for a century and half, part of that original great Norman invasion in the person of one Maurice Fitzgerald de Windsor. If their fortunes had fluctuated they had always been in the forefront of the Old English colony. Such an ancestry was nothing to sneer at Maurice knew it.
For to secure control in Ireland he would need at the very least the aquiesence of his fellow Norman Barons. For now he was second amongst them: the Norman colony in Ireland was pragmatically run with the strongest baron succeeding to be the Lord Deputy - the King's man in Ireland and the Duke of Meath. As the conquerer of Thomond Maurice now found himself next in line for the position - after the incubent John Darcy.
Darcy was 18 years Maurice's senior, but that still left him a mere 35 - concievebly he could hang on for another three decades. A lot could happen in such a time, especially if Maurice's success was a mere thing of straw that could be blown away at any time or even surpassed by one of his brother nobles. Why trust to the vagaries of time, war and ill health?
That was a question that meant much to someone as ruthless, young and ambitous as Young Maurice. So he summoned Eleanor to his study late at night to discuss options.
"I think we should kill Darcy," he informed her with characteristic bluntness.
"Are you sure that's wise Your Grace?" she asked licking her lips nervously, her pretty face betraying the anguished eternal battle going on in her mind between her compulsive honesty and telling her master what he wanted to hear. "If we fail and are discovered..."
Compulsive honesty was a suprisingly useful trait in a Spy Master the Earl reflected. Sure it was occasionally inconvienient, but it did wonders for ones paranioa - the only time to worry about this courtier would be when she stopped talking altogether...
"Well I trust you have improved your talents since the last time?" He cocked an eyebrow quizzically.
"I believe so Your Grace," was her unhappy and dishonest reply.
"Excellent! Do your duty then."
She did, and a few days later Darcy was ambushed in a Dublin Castle hallway, falling under a knife. Things didn't go entirely to plan - one of the conspirators was captured and implicated Maurice, who not unaturally denied it. Things didn't make it to trial - stability and strong leadership was too important, but many a baron looked askance at this rising young man.
Above: The new Lord Deputy, Maurice Fitzgerald, Duke of Meath
But Maurice didn't care. For only a slight and unproven stain on his public character he had now risen to the post of the most powerful man in Ireland.
Above: The FitzGerald lands (in dark green), 1154.
Now what sort of a wife would such a man seek?
Above: The discovery of the murder of John Darcy, Duke of Meath, as seen in Shakespeare's Maurice (Act II, Scene III)
Limerick, February 1353
Maurice the Younger, 2nd Earl of Desmond sat in what had until recently been the office of the Mayor of Limerick and pondered the map across his wall. There - splendidly laid out in expensive thread, was a representation of the various families and dynasties of Ireland. He had taken the opportunity of, ahem, liberating it before it's previous owner had been gently booted into exile.
The FitzGeralds had been in Ireland for a century and half, part of that original great Norman invasion in the person of one Maurice Fitzgerald de Windsor. If their fortunes had fluctuated they had always been in the forefront of the Old English colony. Such an ancestry was nothing to sneer at Maurice knew it.
For to secure control in Ireland he would need at the very least the aquiesence of his fellow Norman Barons. For now he was second amongst them: the Norman colony in Ireland was pragmatically run with the strongest baron succeeding to be the Lord Deputy - the King's man in Ireland and the Duke of Meath. As the conquerer of Thomond Maurice now found himself next in line for the position - after the incubent John Darcy.
Darcy was 18 years Maurice's senior, but that still left him a mere 35 - concievebly he could hang on for another three decades. A lot could happen in such a time, especially if Maurice's success was a mere thing of straw that could be blown away at any time or even surpassed by one of his brother nobles. Why trust to the vagaries of time, war and ill health?
That was a question that meant much to someone as ruthless, young and ambitous as Young Maurice. So he summoned Eleanor to his study late at night to discuss options.
"I think we should kill Darcy," he informed her with characteristic bluntness.
"Are you sure that's wise Your Grace?" she asked licking her lips nervously, her pretty face betraying the anguished eternal battle going on in her mind between her compulsive honesty and telling her master what he wanted to hear. "If we fail and are discovered..."
Compulsive honesty was a suprisingly useful trait in a Spy Master the Earl reflected. Sure it was occasionally inconvienient, but it did wonders for ones paranioa - the only time to worry about this courtier would be when she stopped talking altogether...
"Well I trust you have improved your talents since the last time?" He cocked an eyebrow quizzically.
"I believe so Your Grace," was her unhappy and dishonest reply.
"Excellent! Do your duty then."
*
She did, and a few days later Darcy was ambushed in a Dublin Castle hallway, falling under a knife. Things didn't go entirely to plan - one of the conspirators was captured and implicated Maurice, who not unaturally denied it. Things didn't make it to trial - stability and strong leadership was too important, but many a baron looked askance at this rising young man.
Above: The new Lord Deputy, Maurice Fitzgerald, Duke of Meath
But Maurice didn't care. For only a slight and unproven stain on his public character he had now risen to the post of the most powerful man in Ireland.
Above: The FitzGerald lands (in dark green), 1154.
Now what sort of a wife would such a man seek?