Shiver Her Timbers: The Plundered Chronicles

by Alex Westmore

  “Then James would be considered a bastard and disrupt the succession. The succession is the only thing that matters to Mary now. If she is to protect the Scottish people from Elizabeth, then she must have a viable heir. She must protect James at all costs.” Grace plucked a flower from a bush. “That English woman is the devil incarnate.”

  Quinn looked around the garden and signaled for them to keep moving away from the buildings.

  “What is it, Callaghan? Ya have been quieter than usual.”

  “Young Mary came to me this mornin’, expressin’ several concerns.” She lowered her voice a bit. “First, we must leave here tomorrow. It is simply not safe enough.”

  “Agreed. Protectin’ a thatched hut is nigh impossible. We are all at risk here.”

  “Secondly, Young Mary fears the Scottish lords are leadin’ the queen down a dark path. She does not think they have her best interest in mind. She believes Mary is at her most vulnerable at this moment.”

  “A dark path? In what way?”

  “If they embroil Catholic Mary in a murderous plot, they might very well use it against her in order to rule in the name of her son, whom they would no doubt raise as a Protestant.”

  Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “It would not be the first time her lords had plotted against her. Why is now enna different?”

  “Now that Mary has a son, gettin’ rid of Mary and raisin’ the heir in their religion is a definite option and one the Queen of England would be all fer. The easiest way to secure Scotland is fer Mary to be dethroned.”

  “Aye. Then they could bring back those lords Mary exiled when she first came to power. I can see where ya are headin’ with this, Callaghan, and I think we should remove her to Craigmillar Castle, where she will be safer.”

  “Safer?” Quinn asked. “Mary will never be safe as long as Darnley lives. He wants her throne at any cost. The lords may very well murder him first and blame the queen for it. That would be a play I would consider in their shoes. Mary is beloved. They need to make this not so. This would then give Elizabeth the openin’ she needs fer puttin’ a Protestant on the throne.”

  Everyone was quiet a moment as they each pondered what this could mean.

  “Callaghan... what, precisely, are ya suggestin’?”

  “After Craigmillar?” Quinn shrugged. “I believe it is time fer us to hatch a plan to remove the Englishman from the picture altogether, once and fer all. If we can get rid of Darnley and perhaps the rest of the threats as well, we can return to Edinburgh to show her people that Mary is still their regent.”

  The group was silent.

  “Kill Darnley? Are ya certain that is wise?”

  Quinn nodded. “And any other threat to Mary. It is the only way we are goin’ to keep her safe. He must be dealt with, sir, or else we might as well resign ourselves to never leavin’ her side or Scotland.”

  Grace rubbed her chin. “Let’s say we agree Darnley needs to be dealt with. How do we do so without it comin’ back at Mary?”

  Quinn smiled. “I heard this phrase once. It said to fight fire with fire. What better way to see to it that Darnley is killed and Mary’s hands are clean than to turn his methods against him?”

  Grace nodded pensively. “I think ya might just be onto somethin’ Callaghan. Tell us more.”

  * * *

  The baptism of Prince James in full Catholic regalia went smoothly. Two days after the ceremony, Grace and Quinn met alone with the queen to lay Quinn’s plan at her feet.

  Since then, Mary had recovered her sight and speech and had been busy making baptism arrangements as well as sending missives to other monarchs asking for help in protecting her from Elizabeth.

  The French physician had brought her back to life and now had a permanent place in the folds of Mary’s life. Whatever he had done to save her was nothing short of miraculous. Once Mary had her voice back, she began barking orders and maneuvering herself into a position to find out exactly what had happened to her.

  To start with, Mary pardoned almost eighty of the exiled lords, allowing them to return to Scottish court. Once they returned, Darnley would be vulnerable as the target of their vengeance.

  This would keep him busy protecting himself and not attacking his wife. It was the first step in sealing Darnley’s fate, and it was a brilliant move. It had taken Quinn less than ten minutes to convince Mary of the advantages of doing so. It took Mary less time than three blinks of an eye to agree to return to Edinburgh.

  With Young Mary––happily freed from the faux marriage––as their eyes and ears around court, Quinn and Grace uncovered two plots: one against Darnley, which the lords who allied with Elizabeth would blame on Mary, and one of Darnley against Mary.

  “It appears nothing is as it seems in these lands,” Quinn whispered to Grace one morning after breaking fast.

  Grace tilted her head. “Comin’ from ya, Callaghan, that is a bit ironic, no? We are all merely pawns in the grand scheme of European affairs. I am not a fool.”

  The grains of sand began falling faster now, and one day after they arrived in the capital, Mary called Darnley to Edinburgh for a meeting... a meeting Grace and Quinn had suggested she make when they outlined their final gambit to help clean Mary’s court so they could get back home.

  Darnley had not wanted to come out of hiding, but Mary had made it clear to him there was no other option. Come to Edinburgh or be thrown in jail for treason and attempted regicide. As monarch, she held all the cards regardless of whether or not the hand she held was an honest one.

  He came.

  “That damnable husband of hers is as duplicitous as they come,” Young Mary whispered to Quinn as they strolled the grounds. “He has professed his undying love to her in one breath while arranging a plot against her with the next. Men like him are what’s wrong with the world.”

  “She is ready, then? She does not show any signs of backing out?”

  Young Mary shook her head. “All is in place. She says it is time and she is ready.”

  Quinn stopped walking and turned to Young Mary. “The queen is very lucky to have one as loyal as you.”

  Young Mary blushed and cast her eyes upon the ground. “She is fortunate to have you as well, Callaghan. Your presence here, all of you, has saved her life. She will never forget what you’ve done for her. Nor will I.”

  “You needn’t thank me, Mary. My Captain O’Malley is intent on protecting Mary at all costs. I thought I understood their bond, but I fear I do not.”

  “Aye. You and I both. Whatever binds those two is something only they ken.”

  * * *

  The double explosion rang through the quiet countryside like a cannon being fired. The entire building Lord Darnley had retired to erupted, sending burning embers and pieces of fiery debris high into the sky. Screams immediately followed the blasts; those trapped within the conflagration were helpless to get out.

  Hiding in the garden, kneeling lower than the hedges, Grace, Quinn, Innis, and Connor watched as flames quickly consumed the house.

  “That was a lot of powder,” Grace whispered to Connor.

  “Ya said to make absolutely certain it would blow the entire house up.”

  “And ya did,” Innis said. “Job well done.”

  Quinn felt slightly nauseous as the screams began dying down. She’d not wanted to kill innocent people, but there didn’t appear to be another solution. To kill only Darnley would cast all suspicion back on Mary, and that was precisely what Elizabeth wanted.

  No, this was the only way to––

  “Who’s that?” Grace asked, pointing to two men running from the inferno.

  “Bloody Jesus, isn’t that––”

  “It’s Darnley!” Grace leapt to her feet and started after the young prince.

  “And his aide!” Innis said, following Grace.

  Connor and Quinn stared at each other in the darkness, their faces lit by the hotly burning wooden building.

  “Captain, get back! Come back here
!”

  Connor rose. “Come, Callaghan. We must finish this and then be gone. If we are caught, our deaths will be miserable.”

  Quinn followed Connor, who easily caught up to Innis.

  “Yer Highness,” Grace called. “Over here!”

  Upon seeing her, Darnley and his man, Taylor, stumbled over. They wore only their nightclothes, and neither man bore any scorch marks.

  “Please––please help us. The house––”

  Grace pointed to Quinn, who was just coming from the garden. “Follow him. He’ll take ya to our ship.”

  When Darnley wheeled around, Grace grabbed him from behind, clamped her hand over his mouth, and brought him to the ground.

  Innis did the same with Taylor.

  “Callaghan, Connor, stand watch! Kill ennaone who approaches. I mean ennaone!”

  As Lord Darnley fought to get her hand off his mouth, Grace threw her other hand around his face and clamped shut his nose. “No marks!” she hissed to Innis, who easily overpowered the diminutive Taylor. As Innis slowly suffocated Taylor, a rope Taylor had been holding fell from his hands.

  “A rope?” Connor asked, keeping his eyes on the burning house.

  “The stables,” Quinn replied. “They were headin’ fer the stables.”

  Taylor finally went limp in Innis’s arms, so Innis laid him down on the ground, carefully readjusting Taylor’s nightcap.

  Darnley struggled against Grace’s grip, kicking his feet out and trying to punch her, but she was much larger than he, and she’d had the upper hand from the get-go.

  As Darnley lost his battle with Grace, he succumbed to the lack of air and went slack. She held him like that a bit longer to make certain he was dead, then laid him down and stood there a moment, staring down at the two corpses. “We need to rub some of the ash on them. It can’t look like they were murdered.”

  “People are comin’!” Connor said. “Too many to kill. There’s no time! Run fer it!”

  All four bolted through the garden and into the countryside, never breaking stride, never slowing down. They ran and ran until, at last, Connor could go no further.

  “Stop! I cannot go another... step,” Connor wheezed. “My lungs are burnin’. Just a... moment.”

  “We rest here,” Grace said. “Then we must get back to the castle. We can have no suspicion upon us.” Grace stared down at her hands.

  “You all right, Captain?”

  Looking up, she nodded. “Aye. The explosion should have killed him. He must have gone elsewhere after the fuse was lit, the cagey bugger.”

  The four remained silent until Connor was ready and then headed back.

  Once they arrived back at the castle, they split up and moved to their predetermined destinations. Quinn went right to Young Mary’s chambers.

  When the door opened, Quinn slipped quickly into the room.

  “Is it done? We heard about the explosion. The queen is quite distraught over it all and is pacing her chambers.”

  “As she should be. Yes, it is done. We will leave the galloglaighs here with Tavish for her protection. She need never fear Lord Darnley again. As for the others who may wish her harm, I am afraid she is on her own from here on out. Our country needs us, and we must return to it.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “Maybe the day after tomorrow. We need to remain behind a couple more day to ensure the queen’s safety and to not look guilty.”

  Mary looked crestfallen as tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Ah, lass. You’ll miss me.”

  Young Mary impatiently wiped her eyes. “What can I say? I truly enjoy your company. Besides, I ken I’ll probably never see you again.”

  Quinn wrapped her arms around her. “Of course you will.”

  Pulling away, Mary looked into Quinn’s face. “I will?”

  “Of course. As long as our two leaders share a secret, you and I will remain in each other’s lives.”

  “Promise?”

  Quinn kissed her forehead. “Promise.”

  * * *

  The investigation into Lord Darnley’s death took Scotland by storm, as Elizabeth sent her own envoys to look into the matter. All of the staff and servants were questioned. For her part, Mary grieved in earnest for the loss of a man she once loved but who, like most around her, had betrayed her for his own benefit. While the powers that be were busy trying to ascertain whether or not Mary of Scotland was responsible, Grace and her crew quietly packed and readied the three ships for the journey home.

  “Looks like Elizabeth is determined to blame the fire on Mary,” Connor said as they tightened the ropes. “I don’t know that what we did has helped in enna way if Elizabeth suspects the death was caused by Mary.”

  “She can search and search all she wants, but she’s not gonna find ennathin’. Those men died in the fire. End of the story.” Quinn held the rope while Connor worked on it. “I am so glad the queen insisted Tavish return with us to Ireland. She feared an investigation might pull him and everyone else into the quagmire with her.”

  “Aye. I suspect that is the kind of queen Mary is. Since Elizabeth sent letters with her investigators revealin’ a slight suspicion that Mary might be involved, it probably is best fer Tavish to leave Scotland.” Connor finished the repair and looked up as Tavish approached.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet, old friend,” Quinn whispered as she put her arm around his broad shoulders.

  “I oughtta be stayin’, Callaghan. My country needs me.”

  “You can go back later, Tavish, but right now, right now, your queen wants you gone, and she is correct in saying so.”

  “Aye, but she kept the damned glaighs.”

  Quinn sighed and stared out at the water. She had not seen Evan once since they had parted, and the longing in her chest was tangible. The little laoch had managed to get under her skin in a way that surprised her. Maybe it was the shared experience of being in disguise, but Quinn doubted that. There was something... special about Evan. She was a light—a beacon of goodness that brought joy to Quinn’s heart.

  And yet she was nowhere to be found. Evan was doing what she was trained to do. It did not make the longing any easier.

  The galloglaighs had signed on for two months as personal guards to the queen, for which she was paying them handsomely. Lake expressed his gratitude to Grace by giving her a necklace the glaighs wore as a symbol of their strength and unity. They parted with a stiff handshake and a nod of respect. Quinn watched, feeling crushed. Lake had come alone for payment. Evan had not appeared.

  On the fourth day after the explosion and death of Darnley, Quinn stood at the dock waiting hopefully for Evan to say goodbye.

  She never came.

  So it was with heavy hearts that Quinn and Tavish took command of the Breeze and followed Grace into the deep waters on their way back to Ireland and the lonely life of pirating.

  “I’m sorry she didna come,” Tavish said, standing shoulder to shoulder with Quinn.

  “Who?”

  Tavish chuckled. “Evan. The woman dressed like a man.”

  Quinn felt her throat constrict.

  “It’s all right, lad. No one kens but me, and I would never tell a livin’ soul.”

  “How... how did you find out?”

  “Not important.”

  “Is this what you meant about secrets?”

  Long pause.

  “I told ya. We all have secrets, lad. Ya see, one of mine is that I had a little sister once. I kept a keen eye out on her. Always. Lake has that same keen eye. Like he always kens where Evan is and what she’s doin’. If Evan were a young lad, Lake would not give two donkey turds where he was all the time. So the more I watched them together, the more obvious it became. He watches over her just like I did me Lily.”

  Quinn finally looked over at him. “Your sister’s name was Lily?”

  He nodded. “Aye. Sweetest thing ya’d ever want to meet.”

  “Is she––”

  “Alive?
Oh aye. Lives in France. Fell in love with the French court, met a nobleman I detest, and stayed. Mary was at court when she went the first time. The French court under Mary was somethin’ special––not like it is under that Medici bitch. Now there’s a woman who would eat her young—in fact, she probably has.”

  Quinn nodded, wondering why the usually reserved Scot was suddenly so talkative.

  “To be honest, I am now glad she is in France. Scotland isna safe fer ennabody now.”

  “You don’t think killing Darnley will help?”

  “It will buy the queen some time, but unless she can build an army capable of defeatin’ Elizabeth’s, it is only a matter of time before her cousin has her removed from the throne. Would that it wasna true, but Elizabeth canna afford to let Mary sit much longer.” Tavish did a one-eighty so he was facing Quinn. “But enough aboot that. Grace had fulfilled whatever obligation she had, and now we must let the dice land where they roll. But ya... I saw the way ya looked at Evan, lad. I watched how ya protected her. If there was even a slight chance––”

  “There isn’t. We are from different worlds.”

  Tavish frowned. “And ya and Fiona aren’t? Look, lad, love is in short supply. If ya canna be with the one ya love, then there is nothin’ wrong with lovin’ the one yer with. It is the only way we fighters can ever find happiness.”

  “Who said anything about love?”

  Tavish shrugged. “Does it matter what ya call it? Ya can deny havin’ feelins fer Evan all ya want, but yer heart kens the truth, and the truth always plays out in the end.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Tavish. She’s staying in Scotland, and I––”

  “Fer two months. She’ll be there fer two months. Then she’s comin’ back home. Home, lad. To Ireland. So the way I see it, ya have two months to figure out who ya want to be with. Until then, ya do best by rememberin’ Fiona is a married woman with a baby, and that has a certain appeal to folks like us.”

  “Appeal?” Quinn turned to face him, almost as if seeing him for the first time.

  Is that what secrets did? Did keeping them cause some sort of shadow to linger over the holder of them so people couldn’t see you? Quinn suddenly wondered if Tavish was seeing her for the first time.