by Pride, Mia
“Aye, I do. And I shall be getting more soon. Safe travels, my companions, and remember: Ye always have a haven here with the Devils of the Deep… for the right price.” Niall sauntered away looking like the roguish pirate that he was and Kat smiled, shaking her head. She truly hoped to see him again one day. He was a wild card and she could respect that, being one herself. She may be married, but she would never be tamed. And, she knew her husband was not only all right with that, he expected nothing less.
“The queen will see you now.” A man with huge ruffles around his neck, wearing tight leggings and a surcoat with puffy sleeves escorted Juan, Tomas, and Kat down a long white hallway with portraits of past monarchs lining the walls. English nobles floated around in clothing that must be considered the height of fashion but to Juan, they all looked exactly as Tomas had described them: ridiculous, colorful clouds of fabric.
Weary eyes stared them down, clearly uncomfortable having a dark-skinned Spaniard in their midst. Leaning in, Tomas grunted. “I told ye.”
Juan nodded, feeling exceptionally out of place. He made sure to wear fine black breeches that molded perfectly to his legs with a matching surcoat over a crisp white tunic and a fine pair of boots, but that was about as fashionable as Juan could bother to be.
Kat gripped his arm as an intricately engraved large white door adorned with golden accents opened slowly before him. It looked like the gates to heaven yet felt like the entrance to hell. He had no idea why he was truly here, nor what the Queen of England could possibly know about him and his past.
In front of the door, two guards stepped aside with stone faces and vacant eyes.
“Do come in,” a regal voice said from within the elaborately furnished room. Kat squeezed him harder and he knew she was nervous. Her grandmother Grace had sailed to England just a few years before to meet the queen to ask for the release of her brother, who had been wrongfully imprisoned by Tomas’ father by marriage, who hated all the O’Malleys with a vengeance. Though it had been considered quite a scandal for the Pirate Queen of Ireland to seek an audience with the anointed Queen of England, Elizabeth had proved to be cordial and fair, allowing Grace entrance and listening to her complaints. In the end, the two strong women felt companionship in a world full of men attempting to control them, and the queen released Grace’s brother on the terms that Grace would never attack another English vessel. Since then, war has continued to wage with England and the chiefs of Northern Ireland who fought to keep their independence, but Grace had kept her word and allowed English ships safe passage through Clew Bay.
Though Elizabeth had proven to be fair on that occasion, she had proven to be unpredictably cruel as well, and Juan was an enemy in her midst, even if he had been told to ask for an audience with her.
Slowly approaching the queen, Juan was not certain how to address her. She certainly was not his queen, yet he had to show her decent respect. Wearing an intricate gown of royal blue with golden threading, lace, puffy sleeves, and one of those strange frilly collars around her neck, she seemed to have taken fashion one step further than her court. A large red wig covered what was likely gray hair beneath, and large blue sapphires hung from her ears. When they stopped before her, he noted that her face was an unusual shade of white and looked caked on, as if she had been applying layers of paint for days.
Bowing as he had learned in Spain, he hoped it would be well-received, and Tomas did the same while Kat attempted her best curtsy, bobbing clumsily in the process and making Juan wish to kiss her breathless. She was out of her element, but she was there to support him, which made all the difference.
“Your majesty,” Juan murmured, coming back up to a stand.
“My Queen,” Tomas said beside him.
Looking at the three of them, the queen remained silent for a moment while she regarded them carefully. “Sir Tomas Esmonde. How good it is to see you again. I take it you are here because you received my missive regarding the Spanish galleon those savages in Scotland captured?”
Tomas cleared his throat, clearly doing his best to ignore her insult to his cousins and nodded. “Aye, My Queen. I received the missive.”
“And you investigated?” she asked.
“I sent Juan to do so, as I had to protect the English base up in Northern Ireland from being destroyed. I trusted him with the task.”
“Juan, the Spaniard. You trusted a Spaniard to seek out other Spaniards?” she asked carefully. “And you were not successful in saving our base in Ireland.”
“Nay, I was not. I apologize.”
Waving him away, the queen shrugged. “I will just send more men.” Juan knew Tomas hated being pinned between his loyalties to Ireland and his loyalties to the queen. He did his best to keep the peace but Tomas could not control the angry Irish who felt as if they were being invaded… as they were.
“You, young woman, are the spitting image of one Grace O’Malley. Any relation?” Raising a brow, the queen stared at Kat who squirmed beside Juan uncomfortably.
“Aye, yer majesty,” Kat said carefully. “She is my grandmother.”
“Ah. I see. You must be Katherine, Tomas’ sister, then.”
“Aye, my queen,” Kat gulped.
“You are married to this Spaniard and Tomas trusted him on an important mission for me. Since I trust Sir Tomas to always do what is best for my interests, I must wonder what is so special about this Spaniard.”
Juan disliked being spoken about rather than spoken to, yet he stayed quiet and kept his features straight.
Leaning forward in her ornate seat, the queen crooked her finger, beckoning Juan closer. “Perhaps there is something about this man,” she said slowly. “Tomas. What did you discover about that galleon? Why were they near my waters?”
“My Queen, we discovered there is no threat of another armada coming this way. Spain is poor and out of resources. Their King, Philip II, has passed and his son, Philip III, took the throne.”
“Yes, yes. Of course, I know this,” she said with a bite, prompting Tomas to get to the point.
“Apparently, the eldest son of Philip II and Anna of Austria did not die at the age of seven as everyone believed. His mother put him into hiding and faked his death to protect him, except the secret was leaked and the new king sent a galleon to seek him. He is a threat to the new king, or so he believes. It was said the true heir, Ferdinand Hapsburg, Prince of Asturias, had left Spain on a ship that was part of the second armada. That ship was washed away at sea by the storm that destroyed most of the galleons, yet that one survived and ended up in Ireland.”
“And Ferdinand Hapsburg was on that ship?” the queen asked, not sounding at all shocked by the news of a hidden Spanish heir.
“That is what they believed, aye.”
“What do you believe, Sir Tomas?” the queen asked, looking him in the eye.
Tomas went silent and Juan knew he was torn between protecting his identity and not wishing to lie to his sovereign queen.
Just as Juan opened his mouth to reveal himself and prevent his friend from having to lie, the queen sighed loudly. “I already know the truth. I will not force you to have to betray your new brother by marriage.” Her eyes locked on his and he felt even more confused than before.
“Si, your majesty. My true name is Ferdinand and I am the missing heir. My padre, the man who raised me when my mother said I was dead, told me you knew more than anyone else and to seek you out.”
“Ferdinand, I am your godmother.” The queen looked at him and, for the first time, cracked a small smile.
“Pardon?” he asked, wondering if she had either lost her mind or mistaken him for someone else.
“Ah, I have so much to explain to you, dear boy. Where to begin…” Tapping her long nails on the wooden arm of her chair, Elizabeth seemed to be transported to a time long ago as her eyes glazed over. “Your mother Anna was a kind and innocent soul, if not a bit skittish,” Queen Elizabeth said with a nod. “Philip II had lost his third wife, my sister M
ary, in fact, to illness, and all his male heirs had died young. Needing a new wife, Anna was arranged to leave Austria to go to Spain and marry Philip. On her way to her new home, she had to stop over in England, where I made certain to make her feel welcome. After all, she was the next Queen of Spain and I do try to be diplomatic.”
Juan listened, pulling Kat a bit closer, needing her comfort to help him as he discovered things about his dear mother who he had missed for so many years and never got to say goodbye to. “While she was here, my cousin, James Stewart, Earl of Moray was visiting, as well. I should have seen it. I think I did see it. Yet, how could I have known?”
“Known what, your majesty?” Juan asked slowly, not at all certain what she meant.
“Anna had fallen in love with James. He was the regent of Scotland at the time. My dear cousin Mary and I had our troubles, it’s true. But I never wanted for… I never meant to…”
The queen stopped talking and looked down at her hands, covered in jewels on nearly every finger. Juan knew about her fierce rivalry with Mary, Queen of Scots, her cousin on her father’s side who was said to have a stronger claim to the throne of England than Elizabeth, whose mother was beheaded and her descendants bastardized. After years of disputes, Elizabeth had Mary held in solitude to eliminate her as a threat, yet that had not been enough for Elizabeth’s counsel. They wanted Mary dead and gone, having her beheaded under false orders from Elizabeth. It was said Queen Elizabeth’s wails of anguish at the news of her cousin’s death could be heard throughout the castle, and she had never been the same since.
“My Queen?” Tomas asked and she appeared to snap back to the present.
“Yes. As I was saying. Mary’s young son, James, became king after her imprisonment and his uncle James became his regent. Well, he was known for his good looks and troublesome ways. Leave it to him to seduce the future Queen of Spain before she even met her husband and get her with child.”
Juan frowned and shook his head. What was she getting at? What did any of this have to do with him? “Imagine my surprise when I got word from Anna ten months later that she had given birth to a healthy son, a month sooner than was expected by Philip, yet the babe appeared in good health, unlike any of his previous heirs.”
The queen stopped talking and looked at Juan. All he could do was stare back. Was she saying what he believed she was saying? “Why, my dear boy. You are that child. You are the son of Anna of Austria and James Stewart. He was the bastard son of James V, and he fathered the bastard son of Philip II… only Philip never knew. Your true family is in Scotland, not Spain. Your cousin is the King of Scots, James VI.”
“Impossible,” Juan murmured, looking at Tomas and Kat, who leaned into him and squeezed his hand.
With a wry grin, the queen shook her head. “Nothing is impossible when royalty is involved. Your mother asked me to keep her secret dear, for she feared for your safety should Philip discover the truth. I honored her request all these years and to prove it, I was named your godmother by proxy. After all, Ferdinand, you are my kin.”
Juan felt as if the floor had dissolved beneath him like he was falling through a bottomless abyss of confusion and lies. He was not a Hapsburg. He was a Stewart. Not a Spaniard but a Scotsman.
Looking at the queen… his godmother and cousin, Juan felt as if his entire existence had been a jest. He was the bastard of a bastard. A royal one, but still of no consequence. “Why did my mother fake my death when I was a boy of seven?” he asked. “She sent me to live with Alonso Sanchez, the portrait artist, and changed my name.”
“Indeed, she did. Years had passed but she still feared for your life. You had lived, yet all his other sons had died before you. Her younger sons, your brothers, still lived but they looked like a Hapsburg… unfortunately,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle. “How very unfortunate they are. But you. Look at you. You are not a Hapsburg and the older you became, the more obvious the truth became. She could not, would not, allow the truth to come out. One day, Alonso Sanchez came to paint your portrait. News rang out that a young lad about your age had passed in the village. That’s when your mother saw her opportunity. She pretended that young child was you and begged Alonso to take you and care for you. He traveled all over Europe to paint nobility, which meant he knew all the news and gossip, for there is nothing a nobleman or woman loves more than to spill secrets to the lowly artist while he sits for hours to paint them. He was able to report back to your mother and me about any threats while keeping you safe.”
It all started to make sense. His mother had loved him fiercely. He never suspected anything less. Why she sent him away had always been a question, but he knew she had a reason. “Where is my father, James, now? I would like to meet him, your majesty.” He had just left Scotland. How close had he been to his father and other kin?
“Oh, Ferdinand. Your father has been dead since you were in your mother’s womb. After she left, she pined for him and even planned to leave Spain before her marriage to Philip, desperate to be back with him. He was a married man, though I do believe he loved your mother and would have been with her. However, just months after your mother left for Spain, he was assassinated by a supporter of Mary’s.” The queen shook her head and sighed. “So much death. I have seen so much violence in this lifetime.”
His mother and his father were dead. A hollowness filled him with a sense of loss for a father he never knew and a mother he had not seen in twenty years. Everything he knew about himself, which had been very little, was false.
“So, I am not the true heir of Spain and I was captured and injured for a birthright that was never my own,” Juan said, feeling resentment settle in his bones. Not for the loss of a title he never wanted, but for all he had endured in life simply to avoid that which had never been true.
“You can be if you so choose.”
Looking back at the queen, Juan furrowed his brow. “I do not understand.”
Pulling out two old folded pieces of parchment, the queen looked at him and held them up. “When your mother gave you to Alonso, she wrote to me, explaining where you were and why she had hidden you. Within that missive were two more missives. One explains that you are the son of James Stewart, first Earl of Moray, which will clear you from being the target of your half-brother, Philip III’s ire. The second missive claims that you are the son of Philip II and the true heir of Spain. You will choose your fate and I will burn the other. This is what godmothers do, is it not?” she chuckled.
“I can honestly say that I do not know,” Juan quipped. So much information was running around in his mind. He was being given the chance to choose his status in this world. Looking down at his wife, he saw the worry in her eyes and he stroked her cheek. “Mi amor. What do you want me to do? I will do whatever you wish. I will be whatever you wish, so long as I am yours.”
Shaking her head, Kat looked at him with her sincere green eyes. “Nay. This is not my choice. It is yers. I just want ye, Juan, no matter who ye are or where ye are.”
Juan looked at Tomas who just shrugged and smiled. “I saved ye thinking ye were a slave and here ye are royalty. Do what it is that will make yer heart glad. Ye deserve that, Juan.”
He was surrounded by his true family. People who knew him for who he was, not what titles he had or what power he could offer them, and they loved him anyway. No home would be a home without them. “Your majesty. I have decided. I wish to remain Juan Sanchez. Son of Alonso Sanchez. Husband to Katherine Sanchez. Captain of the Catalina ship. Beast of the Bay. I just want to be free in Clew Bay with my family.”
“Oh, thank God!” Kat said, squealing and jumping at him, giving him a hard squeeze. “I dinnae wish to be a queen!” Then she gasped and looked over at Elizabeth and began to stutter. “I mean… beggin’ yer pardon, My Queen. I just… I am not…”
The queen put up a hand to silence Kat and it worked, making her stop in mid-sentence. “You must not apologize for wishing to avoid such a position. It is not for the weak of heart… t
hough I do not believe for one moment that the granddaughter of Grace O’Malley is weak. On the contrary, it takes much strength to be offered such power and outright reject it. I envy that,” she said, and Kat flushed wildly in the cheeks.
“My thanks, Queen Elizabeth,” Kat said, giving another clumsy curtsy.
“Ferdinand, are you certain? As King of Spain, you and I could work well together, creating peace for many. Or, as the only male heir of James Stewart, I shall be able to bestow upon you some land, money, and a title. You would give this all up to live among pirates?” she asked incredulously.
“Si, your majesty. I am not a king. I am a Stewart and always shall be. I am proud to know who my father is, that I am a Scotsman, and that the king is my cousin. But, I am, and always shall be, a pirate.”
Giving him the smallest of smiles, Elizabeth nodded and tucked the missives away once more. “Very well. But, no Stewart godson of mine shall be title-less. I must, for your father’s memory and for the respect of your birthright, bestow upon you the Castle of Stirling, where your father lived and your sisters currently reside. Perhaps one day, you shall travel there to meet them. You shall also be the third Earl of Moray and be known as James Stewart, not Juan Sanchez when you visit Stirling or England, which will be expected of you from time to time, you understand. But otherwise, I shall let you live as this… Beast of the Bay, as you call it. Though, it seems rather boorish.”
Juan grinned and bowed to the queen, his cousin, and godmother. “My thanks for everything, My Queen. You have been most generous.”
“Indeed, I have. You know how I feel about pirates. You are fortunate that we are kin,” she huffed, back to her regal self. “Katherine, you are now Katherine Stewart, Countess of Moray when you visit. Understood?”
Kat nodded, looking flustered, yet smart enough not to argue with a queen. “Tomas, you have done well for me all these years. Many thanks for all you do. You all may leave.” Shooing them away as if they were flies, she dismissed them and they bowed and curtsied quickly, all eager to be gone and on their way back home.