Cecil barely looked at Leicester. “With FitzMaurice gone, who shall rule the south of Ireland and the Irish there?”
“I will rule the south of Ireland,” Ormond said.
Cecil looked at him. “You are more English than Irish and a staunch Protestant. The Irish lords tolerate you—but they will never follow you.”
Ormond ground down his jaw. “I know what you will say next.”
“Indeed?” Cecil mused.
“You never wanted FitzGerald removed from Ireland in the first place!” Ormond cried. “But it is too late. He has been removed, stripped of all that was his, he is half-mad now, and destitute. The Irish will have to accept me as the most powerful lord amongst them. Thereisno other choice.”
“There is always another choice,” Cecil said calmly.
And Elizabeth knew that he had already decided what to do if she freed the pirate and he brought her FitzMaurice. Silently she thanked God for Cecil, a man she had known since she was but a young princess, a man she had trusted ever since. “What choice do we have, William?”
“Free the pirate,” Cecil said, “Let him finish his game. Allow the fox to run. And let us watch where all the pieces fall, and be poised to pick up the ones we must use again.”
“You can not trust Shane O’Neill’s son,” Ormond insisted angrily.
Cecil smiled. “Trust him? I do not know. But we can certainly control him.”
Silence.
Cecil spoke to the room at large. “After all, the royal astrologer has said his mistress bears a son. What better way to control a man than with his only child, his only heir?”
No one moved. Smiles formed. And then Elizabeth clapped her hands. “How clever you are,” she cried, beaming.
And Cecil smiled, thinking that he was hardly as clever as the pirate, who, if all went as Cecil expected it to, would indeed prove himself master of the game.
33
Liam knew that his fate drew near.
He had been told to bathe and shave, and had been removed from his foul cell to a spare but far more hospitable chamber on one of the higher floors in the Tower. He had been given clean clothes and a decent meal. He realized that a meeting with the queen was near at hand.
He prepared himself. He prepared himself to outwit and outmaneuver the queen and her advisors—including the very shrewd William Cecil. Everything he cherished hung in the balance—Katherine, his child, his life.
And then Liam was escorted to the queen.
She awaited him in the antechamber of her Privy Apartments, and for the first moment, Liam thought she was alone. Then he espied Cecil standing behind her. Despite his determination to gain his release, he was also relieved. For it had crossed his mind that he might have to seduce—and bed—the queen if all else failed.
“You appear in better spirits, pirate,” Elizabeth said sharply.
Liam bowed, getting down on one knee. “I am thankful that you allowed me to bathe and don fresh clothing, Your Majesty. More grateful that you can possibly know.”
“I had no wish to entertain a foul wretch in my apartments,” she said. “You may rise.”
Liam got to his feet.
“What am I to do with you, traitor?”
“Have you not thought upon my proposition?” Liam asked.
“Indeed, I have, but my Council is divided. Some suspect it is but another ploy.” Elizabeth moved closer, peering up at Liam’s face. “Is it a ploy? Would you betray me yet again?”
“Dear Bess, I did not betray you before, and I would not betray you now.”
She stared at him searchingly. “I have thought long and carefully on this matter,” she finally said. “And your word is not enough.”
