September 26th 1080: County of Mide
In late August, another motley citizen army assaulted the fort of Mide, led by James O'Donnell, Kerry's brother. He was soon joined by Frances O'Mide, one of the county burghers, who added another 170 men to the cause. All told, 384 rebels rose up to fight for their freedom.
Once again, Marshal Trond Galtung countered with the royal army, but this time, thanks to a foolish charge that was an attempt to repeat the glory of the formal battle, he suffered heavy losses and was disgraced throughout the three counties.
Nonetheless, superior numbers and troops eventually won the day on September 26th for the royals, though Trond would never again be as good a commander as he once was.
March 13th 1081
"I'm sorry, Your Lordship."
"This is not right! Why do bad things always happen to me?!"
Torstein was greatly displeased at the messenger's news and for a moment considered having the man's head cut off, but decided upon reflection that it was too passe`.
None in the court answered the question, though it was obvious to Cundo that her son was being punished by God for the cruelties that he had inflicted upon the people.
"Trond, cut off his man parts and feed them to my dog! But don't cut them off here. I don't want my floor to be ugly like you."
The Marshal bowed as lowly as his sixty-year old arthritis-ravaged knees would allow him to, "Of course Your Lordship."
"No, don't, Sire! I can not help what happened!" Though heartfelt, the messenger's pleas were unavailing. In short order, Trond and the guards dragged him off to a secluded room not far from the throne area, his screams shortly thereafter piercing the hearts of those kind souls who had the misfortune to it. Moments later, there was a sloshing sound of slurping and noisy chewing as Torstein's bulldog enjoyed his unexpected delicacy.
"I want to be alone! Go away!"
The court complied, exiting two-by-two. Once outside the doors, the dowager countess whispered to the spy master, "He's getting out of control.. I wish there was something we could do."
Snofrid shrugged, "There isn't. We are only women, after all."
Inside, Torstein banged his small fist on the arm of his throne, glaring up at the ceiling as if God were within the beams.
"You'll pay for making Dublin a desert! By all that I love, you'll pay, God!"
The reckless old man