After such a major event in Dublin, the nobles and lords across Ireland were shocked.
John seized this opportunity to demand that all Irish lords come to Dublin to swear allegiance to him. For the Normans, this was a reasonable request, but for the Irish nobles, it was a hard pill to swallow. Unlike the Normans, their history did not include a unified dynasty. The High King was their nominal leader, but many Irish nobles did not actually swear loyalty to him.
This was why they resented John's command. However, the Irish nobles were not fools. They knew that John was different from previous High Kings.
John waited in Dublin, wanting to see who would come and who would not. He gave the Irish nobles a month. In that time, someone could travel from Anjou to Dublin, let alone across the small island of Ireland.
To prepare for this event, John spent over a thousand pounds. Outside Dublin, he built a large temporary venue and a wooden fortress to house the nobles. There was also an arena for knight tournaments and a forest for hunting. In later times, this place would become Dublin's largest park, Phoenix Park. John named it Phoenix Fort.
Throughout the month, Irish nobles arrived at Phoenix Fort one after another. They did not come empty-handed but brought gifts from their territories. This surprised John, as he had not expected such generosity. With these gifts, John managed to recoup some of his expenses.
Most of the nobles came from Leinster and Munster, in the east and south of Dublin. Few came from Connacht and Meath, which was expected.
When the month-long deadline arrived, a giant beacon at Phoenix Fort was lit, turning the fortress into a massive lighthouse. Banners representing various families fluttered in the sunlight, creating a colorful spectacle.
The first day of the event started with a knight tournament. The Irish nobles had likely never seen such a thing before, as knight tournaments were unfamiliar to them. John, accompanied by his royal guards, arrived at the tournament arena and took his place on the grandstand amidst the whispers of the nobles.
Previously, John had met with nobles in private but had never made such a public appearance. Most believed this was because he feared another assassination attempt.
But now, John's appearance put these rumors to rest.
He stood on the grandstand, raising his hand to greet all the attending nobles. Then, John sat down and waited for the knights to enter the arena. The new Captain of the Guard, Savigny, stood by John's side, ever vigilant.
"Your Highness, here is your fruit," a servant said, placing a fruit platter on the table beside John.
The platter contained a variety of fruits, including oranges and pomegranates from Sicily. These were rare sights on traditional Irish tables, but John, being a Norman, had connections that allowed him to obtain such delicacies from the Sicilians.
The nobles were all observing John, while their children watched the knights in the arena with a hint of envy. Ireland had its own tournaments, but they paled in comparison to those of England.
"Do you want to participate?" John asked Pierre, who was beside him.
Pierre looked at the spectacle in the arena, swallowing hard. He did want to join, not so much for the prize money, but simply to show off. Over the past month, he had already designed his own family crest and had his surcoat made.
John waved his hand, "If you want to go, then go. Good luck."
"Thank you, Your Highness!" Pierre was overjoyed and immediately ran down from the grandstand.
Savigny watched this with some concern, "Your Highness, is this really appropriate?"
"There's nothing wrong with it, Savigny," John replied, understanding his concern. "Even though you're new to the position and want to be strict, there's no need for that. Just follow what Guillaume used to do."
The newly titled Baron of Tullamore, Guillaume, was sitting nearby drinking water and almost choked.
John said nothing more, simply observing the nobles' every move.
In John's view, the Irish nobles were much more open. Many of them had brought their daughters, allowing them to appear in such public events. In England, this was a rarity.
Isabella, sitting next to John, was also filled with curiosity, observing the exotic Irish customs.
"Are all these people your loyal nobles?" Isabella asked, pointing to the nobles in the stands. "There are so many of them."
"More or less," John took a sip of his wine. "But many of these nobles are fickle; you can never be sure of their true loyalty."
Isabella frowned. In her territory, she had never encountered such a situation.
"Aren't vassals supposed to be loyal to their liege lord? It's their duty," Isabella seemed very interested in these matters of governance.
John explained, "In theory, yes. The liege lord grants land and power to the vassals, and the vassals return loyalty in kind. But in reality, many of them are ambitious and aim for higher positions."
Seeing her still puzzled, John patted her head, "You need to look at the actual situation more."
However, Isabella still didn't fully understand, and John wasn't planning to explain further.
He turned his attention to the arena. In the single combat matches, Pierre was almost unbeatable, having already knocked down three opponents. The Irish nobles had started cheering for him, even betting on how many more matches he could win. Pierre's red and yellow fleur-de-lis surcoat certainly stood out and looked impressive.
"Your Highness, Martin is here," a servant whispered in John's ear.
John nodded and signaled for the servant to bring Martin to him. Shortly after, Martin appeared before John. He looked entirely different from before.
Martin, now adorned in a rabbit fur coat and numerous gold and silver ornaments—Celtic traditions passed down for years, showing a fondness for such accessories—continued to smile obsequiously. "Your Highness, it's an honor to see you here. I've instructed my servants to present you with a gift, and I hope you take a closer look when you have the time."
John vaguely recalled Martin's gift. "I've already seen it. A stag's head, a very fine piece of decoration. I've hung it on the wall of the Duke of Leinster's palace."
Martin was delighted by John's attention and hurriedly expressed his gratitude.
"No need for that, Martin. I know you must have something on your mind," John raised an eyebrow, "so go ahead, tell me what brings you all the way from Waterford."
Realizing he had been seen through, Martin did not feel embarrassed and spoke openly. "It's about my estate, Your Highness."
"Oh?" John signaled for Martin to continue.
Martin went on, "You should know about my estate outside Waterford. It's land I recently acquired. I bought it from a noble, but his relative from Westford claims he is the rightful owner. When I disagreed, he started causing trouble on my property."
Another land dispute... John gently put down the cup he was holding.
Since John arrived in Ireland, the entire country had been turned upside down. The original noble hierarchy had been disrupted, and land ownership became ambiguous.
"The main issue is that Ragnvald is supporting these exiled nobles. I suspect he wants to drive us out and remove your supporters from his territory," Martin added, trying to fan the flames.
John wasn't swayed by such provocations; he understood the situation well.
Over the past month, John had received several similar reports. The exiled nobles, scattered across Ireland, were disrupting the peace and causing widespread unrest.
It was quite ironic—John, an Englishman, was diligently working to build up Ireland, while the Irish themselves were causing chaos.
"I will handle this matter. By the way, has Ragnvald arrived?" John suddenly asked.
Martin paused for a moment, then shook his head and said, "No, Your Highness, he hasn't come. He mentioned he's been ill recently and couldn't make it, but he sent his gift through someone else."
"Ah, I see. That's alright then. You may go now," John waved his hand, dismissing Martin from his side.
Isabella leaned in, curiosity written all over her face. "How do you plan to handle this?"
John sighed. "If he had come, I could have mediated a bit, explored better ways to resolve this. But since he's claimed illness and declined, I'll have to send someone to inform him."
"Just like that?" Isabella seemed surprised. "He's showing disrespect to you, your vassal. Are you sure you won't discipline him?"
At this, John smiled mysteriously, leaving Isabella slightly puzzled.
"This isn't England," John explained. "If I send just an envoy, all I'll get back is a severed head. To deliver the message, I'll need a military force."
Indeed, this was what John referred to as a "military notification."
Isabella was taken aback by John's blunt approach, momentarily at a loss for words.
"I've said it before, this isn't England," John chuckled. "Here, the most respected are those with the strongest military prowess."
"Quite barbaric, I must say..." Isabella quipped, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
It was nothing like Gloucester.