“A... trip?”
“Aye. I must pay a visit to the countryside. To Lord Bothwell at Hermitage Castle. He was injured at the border and has news for my ears only. We leave at the end of the day.”
Grace appeared taken aback. “How many of the glaighs will ya––”
“All of them. I’ll take all. You and your crew are welcome to stay here. I shan’t be more than a day. It will give you time to prepare for the wedding.”
“The weddin’... aye,” Grace said.
“I must be off. You and your men are welcome. Enjoy a moment’s peace. We are off shortly.”
When Quinn and Grace headed back to the men, they found them all sitting beneath three trees and partaking of the whisky and Scotch of which the galloglaighs seemed to have a never-ending supply.
“Lake, the queen wants ya and yer men to meet her at the stables. Ya will need fresh horses fer the ride to Hermitage Castle,” Grace said.
Lake rose and dusted his arse off. “Hermitage Castle? That’s a three-hour ride, at least.”
Grace nodded. “Aye. Yer men can eat at the stables. She will have food brought down. Ya leave shortly to scout if that is what she requires.”
Nodding, Lake gave the orders in Scottish Gaelic and watched as his men mounted their horses. “Which way to the stables?”
Quinn pointed, her eyes locked on Evan.
“Down that way.”
Lake walked with his horse, Evan sitting behind him. “We’ll protect the queen, Captain, but who’ll protect ya?”
Grace grinned. “We will. Don’t worra. Keep her safe. Keep yerselves safe. Come back quickly.”
When the Scots were gone, Grace and her crew headed back up to the castle.
“Eat, drink, and be merry, boys, but do not, I repeat, do not anger the Scots.”
When the men scattered, Grace, Innis, Tavish, and Fitz headed to the kitchen, where the cook handed them plates piled high with meats. When they sat at the huge oak table usually reserved for the help, Grace said to Quinn, “We have business to tend to on the water. Do whatever ya gotta do, but rest assured, this marriage with Young Mary will remain a ruse.”
Quinn nodded and headed toward the main quarters. It would be easy finding Young Mary. She never strayed far from the queen’s quarters. When Quinn rounded a corner, she ran right into the girl.
“Oh! I’m so sorry.”
“Callaghan!” Mary’s lilting voice rose. Young Mary bowed as she backed away from Quinn, her face alight with joy. “I was down in the cellar when first you came or I would have been here to greet you.”
Quinn straightened her clothes, and dust poofed into the air as she did. “Young Mary. I wondered why I had not yet seen you.” Taking Mary’s hand, Quinn kissed the back of it. “You look ravishing.”
They stood for a moment just looking at each other, neither saying a word.
“Fear not, Young Mary, our plan is still the same. We will act as if the wedding is upon us. The court will be filled with fanfare and excitement, but I promise you shall not be wedded to me when this is over. We need only keep people of the court talking about the nuptials.
Young Mary’s eyes filled with hope. “Truly? I am always so afraid this will not go well.”
Quinn kissed her hand again. “It absolutely will. Thank you for this.”
Young Mary looked around. “You needn’t worry about me, Callaghan. We are all doing what we can to save the crown and protect our monarch.” With that, Mary slipped around the corner, leaving Quinn feeling impending dread of a wedding that, like her, was a fake.
She was a fake.
Everything about her was a planned ruse, a masquerade, a disguise that was weighing heavily on her shoulders. How much longer could she keep this up?
As she walked through the castle, Quinn thought about Gallagher and Fiona.
Her heart hurt.
Fiona would never be hers.
Gallagher would never be hers.
Evan would never be hers.
A life together with another woman could never be hers.
It begged the question: What would be hers?
* * *
“What’s wrong with her?” Grace asked Young Mary the day after the queen’s return from seeing Lord Bothwell. The queen had taken ill on her trip and there was a question as to whether or not she would ever be well again.
Wringing her hands out in the hallway outside of Mary’s chambers, Young Mary paced back and forth. “I do not ken. She came home and went straight to her bedchamber claiming a bad stomach and pounding head.”
“Was she poisoned?” Grace asked as the door to the queen’s chambers cracked opened.
Young Mary shrugged. “We... do not ken.”
“The French physician we brought is in with her. It took him a while to calm her, but now he is tendin’ to her.” Grace started into the bedchambers, brushing by the guard. “I shall return shortly, Callaghan. Do not leave here. Somethin’ evil is afoot and we must be ever vigilante.”
When Grace disappeared into the room, Quinn took Young Mary in her arms and held her for a long time. “She is going to be fine. He is one of the best physicians in the whole of Europe.”
When Young Mary pulled away, she lightly touched Quinn’s face. “You are so gentle and kind.”
“I am... flattered, my lady, but as you know, I am nothing at all like I appear.”
Young Mary smiled sweetly. “You appear like a light in the darkness every time you arrive in Scotland. You appear kind and gentle, sweet and caring. You and your captain care for my queen in a manner she deserves from her real subjects.” Tears welled up in Young Mary’s eyes.
“You are scared.”
Young Mary nodded. “My queen... I am so frightened for her. She became ill so quickly. I... we do suspect poison. Of course we do. She has enemies everywhere.”
Grace came out from the outer chamber where a small handful of the queen’s trusted men waited. Her face was long and concerned.
“No...”
Grace held up her hand. “She has sent someone to inform Catherine de Medici of her sickness.”
“Cather––”
“Did they send for Lord Bothwell?” Young Mary asked. “She will want him there.”
Quinn could only shake her head. How many lovers did the queen have? There seemed to be a never-ending supply of them, but with each one came another danger.
“Catherine is regent to the king of France,” Quinn said, almost to herself. “She raised Mary from princess to queen. If anyone can protect her from Elizabeth, it is Catherine.”
Grace nodded. “Mary, they want ya back inside.”
Young Mary cast a fearful gaze at Quinn before scurrying back through the door.
Grace pulled Quinn away from the door. “It does not bode well fer the queen. I do not know what happened, but she is in a bad, bad way. We should have gone with her, goddamn it.”
“Is it... has she been poisoned?”
Grace bit her lower lip as she considered her answer. “Rumors abound that Bothwell might verra well be her lover. If Darnley found out, it is possible he poisoned the queen, yes. We simply do not know.”
Quinn inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose. The Scottish queen was in far more danger from her friends than ever she was from her enemies. That much was clear.
“How’s the prince? Did anything happen with the baby?”
“He vomited and then seemed to feel better, but we do not know if he was poisoned as well or if it was just from the carriage ride.”
Quinn shook her head slowly. “If Darnley suspected Rizzio is the father and that Bothwell is her other lover, it makes sense he might poison her to get to the throne. Bastard.”
Grace stepped closer. “Except that Bothwell is also ill. He has been brought to the lower chambers as per the queen’s wishes. She wants him close in order to... in order fer him to hear her last wishes should it come to that.”
Quinn blanched. “Last wishes? I thoug
ht––”
“Callaghan, the queen is in dire need of medical aid, and I am unsure if she will make it through the night.”
“The French physician? Can’t he help?”
“It took a long time to get them to allow him entrance into her chambers. Her advisors were hard to convince, but they are desperate to save her now.” Grace backed away. “Ya need not continue with the charade of the marriage now, Callaghan. That is truly the least of our worries. The queen’s illness will now take over the court rumor mill.”
This news swept over Quinn. “What’s changed?”
“Havin’ the French physician on board and ready to serve. It appears to the cabinet that we left here months ago in order to secure a physician fer Her Majesty. If he saves her, he saves ya as well. Word will travel that we sought a physician fer her, and therefore there is no need to marry falsely.”
Quinn nodded but said nothing. The ways of court seemed so strange to her. Half-truths, lies of omission, and secrets abounded, with the people being fed whatever information the court’s privy council wanted to feed them.
It made her sick to have been a pawn in this, and though she understood why, it no longer sat well with her.
“I am sorry I asked it of ya, my friend. It was wrong of me. We were––”
“It is all right, sir. Can he... will he be able to save her?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t look verra good.”
“Captain? The truth, please.” Quinn tilted her head as she waited.
“I don’t know, Callaghan. I truly do not. All I know is that the queen is vulnerable right now. Verra, verra vulnerable. Our galloglaighs must be vigilant. It is times like these when a monarch faces her greatest challenge, her fiercest foes. We will not allow them to reach her. We will do everrathin’ we can to protect her.”
“Because she is your friend?”
“Because she is a queen who might be able to withstand Elizabeth’s advances if she can hang on.”
The answer did not surprise Quinn. Everything Grace O’Malley did was in the name of Ireland. Even down to her friendship with the Scottish queen, Grace would stop at nothing to protect her beloved Ireland.
“Aye. I’ll make sure that we––”
“No. Ya need to stand guard right here. Her orders, not mine. She trusts ya implicitly, Callaghan. Ya and ya alone.”
Quinn remembered the oath she made to Mary the first time they met. Mary bade her to remember that when she needed Quinn most, that she would come.
That moment had arrived.
“Her? The queen wants me?”
“Aye. What we are not tellin’ a soul is that she has gone blind and can barely speak. I do not know what kind of poison does that, but whatever has taken hold has affected all of her abilities.”
Quinn blinked. “Blind?”
“Aye. The queen cannot see a thing, and speakin’ is verra hard fer her. She barely managed to instruct me that ya were to guard her door and that ya’d know why. I do not know all of what happened that has made that monarch trust ya so, but she does. She trusts ya nearly as much as she trusts me, and that is sayin’ a good deal. So ya stay here. I’ll get the men to rally. We’ll make certain no one injures the queen.”
When Grace left, Quinn paced back and forth for the next three hours until Connor came to relieve her.
“Ya need to eat, Callaghan. Go get yerself somethin’ from the kitchen, and then get back here before the queen knows yer gone. Grace’s orders, lad, not mine. Be swift about it.”
“Thank ya, Connor. Yer a good man.” Quinn felt much better after taking those three hours to try to piece what she knew together. When Connor relieved her, she made her way to Bothwell’s small apartment beneath the castle. The guards immediately allowed her to pass when she told them who she was.
Sitting down by Bothwell’s bed, Quinn leaned forward. He was sweaty and pale and pulled the sheets up to his chin.
“I am one of Grace O’Malley’s crew members, and I’m here to deliver a message.”
* * *
The galloglaighs were successful in intercepting Lord Darnley before he could visit his sick wife half a day later. He was aghast at his treatment and demanded to see the queen.
That was never going to happen.
Grace sent him packing after one day of his endless prattling about who he was and that he would see her beheaded, blah, blah, blah.
In the end, Grace sent four glaighs with him to keep an eye on him. That did not sit well with him at all, but no one cared. The only thing that mattered was keeping Mary safe from everyone, and the Irish pirates and their Scottish warriors were very successful in doing that.
What they were not successful in doing was preventing a blazing fire in the kitchen area that started fast and spread just as quickly. Whoever had poisoned the queen had now struck out at her with fire, and the whole of the place quickly filled with a dark smoke cloud that made it impossible to breathe.
“Are we under attack?”
“What’s happenin’?”
“Get the queen!” Grace ordered Quinn as she pushed through the doors, sword in hand.
Together, Innis, Connor, Grace, and Quinn managed to get Mary safely from her chambers through a maze of secret passages that led to the stables, where they saddled the horses and prepared to leave at once.
Mary could barely hold on, so Quinn sat behind her, a position the queen would never have allowed had she felt at all well, but she could barely remain upright on her own.
“I’ve got her,” Quinn said, reaching around to grab the reins. “Let’s be away before whoever started that fire returns with fighters.” Quinn urged her horse back to where Young Mary sat side saddle on a white horse. “All set?”
She nodded. “Does this mean we are no longer entertaining the court with the hopes of a marriage?”
Quinn nodded. “No need to now. The only thing we need to worry about now is taking care of Mary and then getting the hell out of Scotland alive.”
“Aye. The walls are closin’ in, Callaghan.” Grace muttered. “We must get her to some place where we can adequately defend her. Whoever started that fire may not stop there.”
“It was that bastard Darnley, I bet,” Innis grumbled as they made their way to the bastel, a fortified tower owned by the Kers of Farmhurst. “I bet he had her poisoned, and since that did not work, he is tryin’ to burn her out.”
Grace nodded. “I agree. She is bein’ flushed out. She and Bothwell. She should never have brought him here.”
“Well, she did, and now the whole place is aflame. Sir, we must be off.” Quinn had a hard time reaching all the way around the large-boned Mary, but once she had a tighter grasp of the reins, she urged her horse out of the stall. “We have to go, Captain. Now.”
As they rode off with Mary on horseback with Quinn and several of Mary’s ladies on horseback themselves, Quinn surveyed the thatched-roof, four-story outbuilding, wondering how on earth they would be able to protect the queen at this flimsy location.
Then she realized they had barely managed to protect her in a castle. Grace was right: the walls were closing in on Mary very quickly.
The upper loft area where the queen would rest was only accessible from the outside stairs. Grace explored the banquet room and guard room before settling Mary in the house, which had every corner governed by the galloglaighs and Grace’s crew. No one was getting near the queen of Scotland.
“We shall not remain here enna longer than we need,” Grace explained to her inner circle that first night after they had secured the perimeter. “Here is what my spies here have managed to find out. There are those who say Darnley has been makin’ deals abroad. He is, as I believe he has always been, the greatest threat to the queen.”
Quinn thought about her request of Shea to listen to the rumors in and around Galway and suddenly wondered if by doing so she hadn’t put her best friend in danger.
“How fares she?” Innis asked as they walked through the small g
arden the next day to check on the warriors.
“Better, actually. Appears the fresh air from the ride has helped her. She can see better and speak more clearly once more.”
Quinn nodded. “Whatever came upon her seems to be fadin’ away.”
“Her men are unhappy we are here,” Connor said. “They are gettin’ restless and want us away.”
“Aye. All the more reason why we should remain.”
“Everraone speaks of her... uh... relations with Bothwell. Her dalliances make it exceedingly difficult to know who is a potential enemy and who is not.”
That was exactly how Quinn felt—unsure who was on what side.
When Quinn had gone to Bothwell to deliver the message it was a simple request she had made with dagger to the throat. Had he tried to kill the queen?
He had said no.
Her message was clear: if he had anything to do with it, she would make sure he ended up sinking to the bottom of the sea.
Grace paused and looked up at the sun as it peeked through the ever present clouds. “The christenin’ is comin’ up shortly, and that will be the time Darnley chooses to strike.”
“You are certain it is Darnley?
Grace nodded. “No doubt we have all heard the rumors about Darnley. He has possibly committed murder, is a potential traitor, and has constructed many a plot against Mary. She is sure he is the root of all of these attacks against her person.”
“Seems to me,” Innis interjected, “that Darnley needs to go. We shoulda kilt him when we had the chance.”
Quinn shook her head. “Couldn’t just kill him while he was there at the castle. Any sort of bloodshed like that will splash back on the queen, and that would be the death knell for her. Her people would rise up against her if they thought she had killed her husband.”
Grace nodded. “Aye. It would appear poorly upon Mary. Divorce does not seem to be a viable solution to the Darnley problem, and the queen will not have him arrested fer treason due to his English heritage.”
Shiver Her Timbers (The Plundered Chronicles Book 2) Page 21