“I doubt that!” the queen cried. “So this entire game was only that, a game?” Elizabeth said. “To ask a ransom when no ransom could be paid, to entertain a young girl’s whim to see her father—and to take her as your mistress when all was finally done?”
“Does not the entire world know how fond I am of games, Your Majesty?” He bowed his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Surely there is no one who would make an objection to such a game? Not FitzGerald, who is in disgrace. Not her brother, who is but two years old. Surely not her stepmother, who wishes no rivals in her home.”
Katherine blinked. This was the first she had heard of having a baby brother.
The queen stood. “Knave!” She was clearly furious. “We object! Your games go too far! And this game rings of something more! Insolvent knave!”
Liam jerked. So did Katherine. He said softly, “I would never commit treason against you, Bess.”
Katherine gasped, certain that Liam would be thrown into the Tower without further ado for addressing the queen so disrespectfully.
Elizabeth stared only at Liam, her eyes wide, her gaze hard, weighing his words. Liam remained motionless.
“You have gone too far, O’Neill!” she finally said, her bosom heaving. “And We doubt you do not know it. Your arrogance needs be taught a swift and sure lesson. Youcannot plunder where you will, without a care for Us. FitzGerald may be in disgrace, but the girl is Our subject, and fresh from a convent, not a prize for a man like you. You have gone too far—but I pray you have not gone as far as conspiring with FitzGerald.”
Liam’s gaze was lowered, so that Katherine could not see his eyes.
“Perhaps your ardor will cool whilst you pass time in the Tower,” the queen snapped. She signaled two sergeants, who leapt forward, each taking one of Liam’s arms. “And think onallyour guilty ways, pirate,” she added ominously.
Katherine choked off a cry, watching as Liam was led away.
Later that afternoon, the Privy Chamber was once again cleared of all the queen’s favorites, with the exception of Sir William Cecil. “Did you send for Ormond?” she asked.
“He shall be here at any moment, Your Highness,” Cecil replied.
“And the FitzGerald girl?”
“She is asleep in the chamber where she has been confined. Thus far, she has not done anything to give credence to the conspiracy theory,” Cecil said.
Elizabeth paced. In doing so, she made a magnificent figure, and she was aware of it. Like her father, she was vain. And because she was a woman, her vanity was, perhaps, greater than his. Not only did she know that she was the most beautiful and best-dressed woman at court; she knew no other lady could dance as well—no other lady had as many admirers. “I have never heard such nonsense,” she finally said, facing Cecil. “Surely this FitzGerald girl went to Liam O’Neill, bearing a secret message from her father. And FitzGerald hates Us, he would want but one thing—to plan to escape to Ireland and commit treason.”
“Perhaps,” Cecil said.
“There is no other explanation for the dawn meeting. None!” Elizabeth said fiercely. And finally, her face fell.“Blast that rogue, Cecil. How could he do this to me? Curse my golden pirate! I do not hear from him in over a year, and now this! How many times have I summoned him to court in all that time?” She paced, not waiting for an answer. “I wonder how many other ships he has plundered, that we do not know about. I wonder if he plunders all the lady travelers, as well! Should I even doubt it?” Her face screwed up. “Ahh, well, he is no sad, lonely little boy now. He thinks to pervert that poor virgin—and mayhap he thinks of treachery against me.” Tears suddenly filled Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Your Majesty, be careful of reaching the wrong conclusion. O’Neill is very clever, far too clever to be caught at treason in such a fashion, and I doubt all is as it seems.”
“What do you say?”
“O’Neill has been so useful to us until now, and I find it hard to believe that such a clever man would risk his future in order to dabble in Irish politics.” Cecil’s tone was bland; he did not blink.
“He has gotten too bold, too cocksure,” Elizabeth said, but less certainly. “He does not think to get caught.”
“Perhaps. But while ’tis obvious what FitzGerald would gain from such an alliance, think on what O’Neill would gain.”
“FitzGerald would gain all. He could use Liam to escape and return to Munster, so that he could war with his own cousin FitzMaurice to regain control of his kin and his land. There is naught for Liam to gain,” Elizabeth said sharply, “except the promise of some future reward, which could not possibly entice Liam into treachery. The only other thing he could gain is the girl. But she is worthless.”
“Agreed. The girl is worthless with her father in exile, stripped of land, title, and all power,” Cecil said carefully. How different this conversation would be if the girl were still the daughter of a powerful earl. Then Liam O’Neill’s purpose would be quite clear.
“So you think O’Neill was merely amusing himself—and truly asking a ransom?”
“I am not sure.” Cecil paced the room, pausing to stareat the life-size figure of Henry VIII painted on the far wall. “We must allow the game to play out, Your Majesty. We must see where the players lead.”
“If O’Neill has allied himself with FitzGerald at this time, I like it not. There are problems enough with the papist FitzMaurice.” Elizabeth could not repress a shudder. Her head ached now, but whether in response to more Irish problems, or because of how betrayed she felt by Liam, she could not tell. “In God’s name, what is keeping Ormond?” she snapped. “He knows FitzGerald as well as anyone; they have lived their entire lives as enemies. He would know if this conspiracy is true.”
“I hear a commotion,” Cecil said. He moved to the closed doors and opened them just as the earl of Ormond was about to be announced. “Tom! We are eager to speak with you.”
The earl of Ormond, known as Black Tom because of his dark complexion and his dark moods, entered the chamber with long, strong strides. A brown, sable-lined cloak waved about broad shoulders—he tossed it back with undisguised irritation. “It is damnably wet out this night,” he said, grim. “Not an eve to be riding about Londontown.”
