Rockfleet (The Pirate Queen Book 0)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  Grania's head tipped in curiosity as she stepped closer to me.

  “Tell me, Maeve.”

  Chapter 9

  Grania sailed down the spiral stairs as I followed, clipping her heels. Sounds of unrest and disorder rose from the grounds below, bursting us from our sheltered cocoon of discussion and discovery.

  The clansmen worked to ready the compound for defense and battle as voices clashed and arguments brewed. Grania needed to coordinate their efforts before it turned to mayhem and internal strife.

  She stopped on the armory floor and wove into the maze of artillery to the back where the shields were stacked. She turned back to me. "Come. Choose." Her hand moved out across the vast supply of shields; some large and decorated, others smaller with simple detail. “We must be prepared for anything, in a position of order so I can then hear these ideas of yours.”

  Grania stepped past the shields and reached for the one hanging over the keystone of the enormous fireplace. The clang of metal on stone filled the room and my spine tensed. She brought it down and secured her arm through the leather strap at the back. She stood tall, holding it in front of her as if posing for a photograph.

  I turned to the pile and pushed my way through, rattling and crashing through the metal and wooden discs. As I shuffled through the stacks of wobbling saucers, the rounded edge of a polished shield poked out from the collection. It was a dark bronze color with raised designs along the outer ridge.

  I grabbed the side of the shield and pulled it from the pile. The Celtic artwork in the center danced in my eyes as I blinked at its regal beauty. Celtic knots of silver metal swirled around four shiny circles in the center.

  A smile spread across my face as I looked up at Grania. Her gentle gaze assured me I'd made the right choice. Holding the shield up to my chest, I reached in through two leather straps, to secure it onto my forearm. Pulling my arm close to my body, the shield wrapped me in protection as if custom made to fit my every curve.

  "Time to rally the clan. Prepare them for what's to come." Grania turned for the stairs. "Our enemy will likely burn the outbuildings. All holdings must be moved inside."

  "Is there room for it all?" I looked around the tight space.

  "Ach, sure, Rockfleet is a fortress. She can take care of us all... for as long as we need."

  I pressed my face into a narrow window, looking out over the hills and out to the sea, understanding the fortress concept to its fullest. Narrow windows meant no flaming arrows flying in or intruders scaling walls for entry. The security of the strong hold settled my rising angst as the thick stone walls embraced me in safety.

  Grania burst out of the heavy black door and stood at the top of the huge stone slab stairs. Darkened from water marks left by the rising sea that crept right up to the castle every day, the steps matched the jet black of the door, creating a stage of steadfast power.

  “Enough!” she called across the bickering voices. “We’re to work together. Aengus! The weapons. Seamus! The horses.” She delegated as she saw it from the top of her granite steps and the clansmen found a smoother rhythm in minutes.

  The scar-faced man, Ronan, an elder of the clan, approached the stairs with a heavy basket of cut turf slung over his burdened back.

  "We've stockpiled the turf, Grania. Enough to keep the fires alight for months." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and added a wink of defiance meant for the crown.

  "That's good, Ronan. Well done. Where's Hugh?" Grania looked over his head and scanned the busy movement of every clan member readying the fortress for attack.

  "Haven't seen him, m'lord." He hoisted his bale and continued on his way.

  She looked at me in thought, biting the inside of her cheek, and glanced out to the sea toward Clare Island. Stress radiated out from her entire being as she searched for Hugh. Her jaw clenched tight enough to crush metal.

  It was true. He was her weakness. And the worry lines in her brow proved her distraction.

  "What are your thoughts, Maeve?” She broke her worrying train of thought. “Tell me of your ideas. How will we outsmart Bingham?" Her lips pressed in a white line as her eyes continued searching. "He's the force of an army with him. And waves more behind that."

  A ray of sun cut through the thick, gray, overcast sky, illuminating the green fields and blue sea to an unnaturally vibrant hue. Joy raced through my veins as beauty and hope filled me.

  A confident grin spread across my face as I chose my words with care. My idea was lofty. Unfathomable. Walking into the lion’s den. No one else would ever consider it or dream it up, even for a moment.

  Except Grania.

  "You must face your equal, Grania. Negotiate." My steady voice left no alternative.

  "I've no equal here, Maeve. Sure, you know that. I've the most wealth and power of the west coast. This is Umhaille land and sea." Her eyebrows scrunched together, judging my comments as if they were insults from a simpleton.

  "You have one equal, Grania.” My tone remained steady.

  Her eyes squinted as she studied me. “Go on.”

  “And it’s time you must confront her. Tell her of the injustice and your position as chieftain, queen to your people. You must protect your clan and your land. It’s your responsibility. She'll listen to you. She’ll know. She must." I nodded in certainty. “As she holds the same responsibility to her people as you do.”

  Grania's back straightened as she stood taller, eyes wide. "The queen," she stated.

  "Yes."

  Grania surveyed the land as she absorbed the idea.

  Meeting the Queen of England, Elizabeth I, was Grania's best chance. It would be the meeting of the century. The Sea Queen and the Virgin Queen. Two dominant leaders, negotiating the future of Gaelic Ireland and the destiny of the Umhaille Clan.

  It had to work.

  "I must leave at once." Grania made her mind up in an instant. Getting court time to sit with the queen would be the next challenge, aside from the long journey to England, but Grania's confidence in her status left no uncertainty of being seen by Elizabeth.

  "I must tell Hugh. Where is he?" She looked around again. "It's not like him to be away from my side this long." She smoothed her leather vest, pulling it down for a closer fit.

  "Will he go with you?" I asked.

  "I'm not sure yet." Her brow pinched together in thought.

  Just as I was about to speak about the planning of the mission, Grania's gaze shot upward in response to the sound of horse hooves. I followed her line of vision to the small band of men on horseback and squinted to identify them. As they rode closer, the scene became clear: Hugh and two other Umhailles led a horse with a bound rider lying across the saddle, like quarry from a hunt.

  An audible sigh left Grania’s mouth as she recognized Hugh and looked to me in relief. She leapt from the steps of Rockfleet and greeted the pack.

  “What have we?” She beckoned.

  “MacMahuna spy,” Hugh responded. “Skirting our border. Watching our every move.”

  An Umhaille rider kicked at the legs of the intruder, causing him to groan.

  Grania stood tall with her hands on her hips, elbows wide, chin up.

  "You’re a fool, coming onto me land. I should slaughter ya where ya stand." Her brazen snarl sent fear through my veins.

  His head lifted with considerable effort and he spoke out. “A final warning to clan Umhaille. Surrender your reign of land and sea. Or suffer a massacre greater than any known.” He spat the words like venom.

  He reached out, pointing at Grania, exposing a tribal tattoo on the inside of his forearm. The dark blotched ink made my lips pull back, exposing my teeth in disgust. Something about the tattoo made me cringe and sent warning into my heart.

  "You arrogant fool,” she barked. “Have you any idea who you are speaking to? I will decimate the MacMahuna holds. Your castles. Your existence." She dropped her head back with a laugh of disdain. “You take that message to the MacMahuna.” She took the reins o
f his horse and slapped its hindquarters with a snap. The horse jolted and took off like thunder as the bound rider clung on with every muscle.

  As the horse barreled over the farthest ridge, two new riders rose up into view. One hopped down and settled the running horse. My eyes widened as I focused on the rider who remained in his saddle. I stared at his strong posture on horseback.

  His eyes met mine.

  It was Rí.

  Betrayal coursed through my veins like poison, sickening my stomach, sending a foul taste into my mouth. My eyes searched his for an explanation.

  His eyes begged mine as he shook his head, like he didn’t want to be there. His gaze fell in shame as he struggled to hide from my piercing sight.

  Grania took several steps out from our group and stood defiantly facing the riders. Chin held high, she pounded twice on her chest with a closed fist and then held her arm high in the air, sealing her threats as truth.

  My eyes remained glued on Rí's back as I watched them ride over the hill and out of sight.

  As Grania moved back toward us, the growing crowd of clansmen backed away, some tending to their previous tasks while others watched her next moves. She approached me with a look in her eye of pure resignation, a determination to fight with everything she had.

  She turned to Hugh and her shoulders lowered. “Thank you.” Her eyes held his. “For protecting this clan.”

  “Aye.” He nodded.

  Hugh paced in the entry hall of Rockfleet as we kept an ear on any movement from above in her chambers.

  "The journey is long and dangerous." Hugh ran his hands through his hair. "What if the queen won't see her? It would be a wasted trip."

  He paused his nervous strides and looked at me.

  "I must go with her. For protection. And... And..." His brows pulled together as he looked to the floor.

  "Hugh, she’s insisted on us staying here, keeping watch over Rockfleet. Especially after the incident with the spy. There’s no changing her mind.”

  His lips pressed into a thin line.

  “And Ronan will protect her. As well as the other clansmen she’s taking." My throat tightened as I wished I could go along with her. But her decision was final. "She needs us here, Hugh."

  "Sure, I know it. Damn it." He kicked at the slate floor. "I'll feckin' wring Bingham's neck with me own hands." He squeezed the air as if crushing the life out of Sir Bingham, and gave it a final shake for good measure.

  The idea of Sir Richard Bingham scared the crap out of me. I was well aware of the carnage the British created throughout the history of Ireland but it was always a safe distance away from me, in the pages of a textbook or within the folklore of family gatherings laced with Jameson whiskey.

  But now... I was in the middle of it.

  Coming face to face with Sir Bingham was a nightmare I hoped to never experience. But somehow, I knew the storm was coming.

  And it couldn’t be stopped.

  My hand squeezed the hilt of my sword as I considered the encroaching encounter from a variety of directions. The clan would be attacked and decimated by the excessive power of Bingham's army. Or maybe our defenses would be strong enough to cause their retreat. But they would be back. More prepared the next time. And it would keep going that way, until it was done.

  My eyes moved up to the ceiling as a sense of despair seeped through me.

  Rockfleet, and the clan around it. It was beautiful. Magical. It was my home, my past and my future. My family.

  It had to be protected. Preserved.

  My head flinched in response to a sound from above. Hugh and I stepped to the ladder and looked up.

  Grania descended from the spiral stairs above and moved to the rungs, staring down at us.

  "Sure, you both look like you've seen a ghost. Yer makin' me nervous, just lookin' at ya." She grinned and moved down the ladder in a quick, fluid motion.

  Hugh reached for her arm and turned her toward him. "I'd protect ya with me own life, Grania. You must have me by your side." His wide, glistening eyes begged her.

  She prepared to speak, then stopped. She exhaled. Then started again. "I know it, Hugh. Thank you. But I need ya here. To protect Rockfleet, and to mind Maeve. Yer to let nothin' happen ta her. Ya hear?" She glanced at me with her lips pursed and worry lines carved across her forehead.

  His eyes fell from hers. "Aye. I'll mind her. With me life." He swore.

  His words shot fear through me as I felt my vulnerability weakening me. Grania was my strength here. She was everything that held it all together. If she left, what would become of me? Would it all end?

  Any time she was in trouble or her safety was in jeopardy, the stability of my existence, of my vision, seemed to falter. As if it would push me back. Away. And end everything. Would her leaving cause the same thing?

  My eyes widened with fear as I thought of being forced back to the garden. To a life of emptiness and no meaning. "I want to come with you, Grania. Please!" My voice cracked, exposing my panic.

  She reached for my hand and squeezed it. "It's more dangerous for you to come, Maeve. I can't chance it." She nodded to confirm her decision. "Once Bingham gets word of my travels, he'll be on my trail. But we'll be quicker than him. I know the seas better than anyone."

  Hugh and I looked at each other. That was our biggest concern; Bingham catching up to her.

  "And sure," she added. "I need ya here, ta use your smarts against the silly attempts of the MacMahunas and whatever forces Bingham sends. And by the time they have a chance to organize in any manner, I'll be back. With word from the queen herself." She smiled. "Between the two of ye, Rockfleet will be protected. I'm sure of it."

  Chapter 10

  Tension mounted to near breaking over the days and weeks, as MacMahuna messengers taunted us with reminders and threats while we waited in limbo for Grania's return.

  Rockfleet brimmed over with stores of weapons, turf, water pots, potatoes and root vegetables. She was prepared for a fight. Hugh barely slept, focusing only on preparing the clansmen for combat.

  My twisting gut grew more agitated any time I caught a glimpse of a MacMahuna. I’d search their faces, looking for Rí. But he never came. His abandonment and betrayal carved out my core.

  He had to feel it too. The energy between us. But somehow he was able to push it aside. It was high time I did the same. He was my weakness against facing the MacMahunas. It was time I turned that around. Time to make him their weakness. Not ours.

  The bitter taste in my mouth made it pucker. Did I have it in me to turn my heart like that? To allow this strife to come between us?

  I had to. He had closed his heart to me for his clan. And now, I had to do the same.

  I joined in the simulations, learning new techniques for wielding my sword and understanding where to strike for best results. I had slashed and jabbed more hay bales than I could count and my fellow clansmen held me in high regard for my tenacity as well as my cunning. They looked upon me as a sword-slinging ally rather than a cellphone-wielding teen.

  With the early morning mist still rising from the hills, I dragged my heavy boots through the squishing bog and joined the men, ready for another drill. Hugh had already arranged scarecrows and hay bales, set up as an army and their horsemen.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, considering the impending torture to my aching muscles and stiff joints. The other men twisted their backs and bent side to side, proving they were feeling the same fallout from the rigorous training exercises as well.

  Hugh stood atop a massive bale and addressed us as warriors. "No time for working the sleep out of your bodies. The attack is now!" He shouted, raising alarm in us all. He continued, "Without warning, they're upon us! Horsemen and foot soldiers. Swords and arrows. Their war cries send us into panic.” My heart rate skyrocketed. “But no! We are ready. We will defend Rockfleet and the Clan Umhaille with all we have!"

  His voice echoed through the hills. "What will you do?" He pointed his sword across the g
roup of us. "How will you respond?" His eyes moved from one clansmen to the next and landed on me.

  Waiting.

  "Attack them! Go fer their hearts!" A burly fighting man shouted as he thrust his sword in the air.

  "Yer feckin' daft, Dom. Get yerself killed, you will," another interrupted. "Have ya learned nothin?"

  "Distract them with noise and stones. Frighten their horses. Daggers to the kidneys." Voices mixed from all directions.

  Hugh nodded, surveying the energy and spirit of the clan. Each and every one, ready to fight for Grania.

  "We divide and conquer!" I shouted with a voice full of grit and nails. The sound came from deep within me and blasted out like fire.

  Every head turned in my direction and stared.

  At first, insecurity ran through me and I was tempted to look over my shoulder as if the sound came from somewhere besides me.

  But then, another burst formed in my belly and shot out like a tidal wave of venom and command. It was backed by Grania’s spirit. It coursed through me like adrenalin. "We lure the fighters away from their leader. Leave the warrior chieftain exposed. Attack his weakness!" My voice held strong. Guilt shuddered my bones as I established full allegiance to my clan.

  I took the side of my tribe. Even in the face of love.

  "What do you know of The MacMahuna?" Dom shouted through squinted eyes, his fist pounding into the air.

  My eyes fell and I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to take back what I'd said.

  But I did know something of The MacMahuna.

  "I know his weakness.” My voice squeaked through my throat and my eyes fell as the words left my mouth. I thought of Rockfleet falling under the siege of the MacMahunas. I envisioned the bloodshed and carnage. Losing the good men around me. Losing Hugh.

  Losing Grania.

  The strength of my voice grew in my chest and came out of me with the force of a commander.