Henry himself now prepares to invade Ireland. The month of October, in the year 1171, sees his great fleet of four hundred ships laden with soldiers set sail from Milford Haven. The fame of this fierce, bullet-headed king with the bloodshot eyes and the dark red hair has preceded him, and at his landing all Ireland hastens to do him homage. In a wicker-work hall with walls of peeled osiers, Henry holds his court in Dublin during one of the stormiest winters ever known. He feasts the Irish chieftains on dainty Norman dishes; he grants charters bestowing all the soil of Ireland on ten of his leading knights, and, leaving Strongbow out in the cold, invests Hugh de Lacy with cap and sword as the first governor of Dublin. When the April showers begin to fall, the royal Plantagenet embarks his host and returns to England. But what of Strongbow? Conscious of the royal displeasure, he joins Henry in Normandy, and fights bravely against the king’s rebel sons. Then once more the sun of royalty deigns to smile on him, and at length he is rewarded with the long-coveted governorship of Dublin. In Ireland he discovers that Raymond the Fat is most popular with the soldiery, and is likely to prove a troublesome rival. A marriage is arranged between Strongbow’s sister and the popular knight, and Strongbow feels that he has staved off a disaster. The wedding festivities are rudely interrupted by news of native risings, and away goes Raymond to the congenial work of quelling the revolting chieftains. He gains success after success. The soldiers will have no other leader but him; and all the while Strongbow jealously intrigues against him. One day when Raymond is in the south he receives this message from his wife: “Be it known unto your sincere love that the great jaw-tooth which used to give me such uneasiness has fallen out. If you have any care or regard for me or yourself, return with all speed.” The “great jaw-tooth” is none other than Strongbow, who has just died from the effects of an ulcer in his foot. So passes the man who ushers the English race into Ireland. He came to bring not peace but a sword, and with his advent began five long centuries of battle and murder, oppression, confiscation, rebellion, famine, crime, and misery unspeakable. [Illustration] RICHARD OF THE LION HEART. “_The knight’s bones are dust,_ _And his good sword rust;_ _His soul is with the saints, I trust!_”