Liam’s fingers dug into her arm. “She is but convent-breed, Sir John. She knows nothing of the world, of men, or of men’s ways.” He smiled slyly. “She will do naught but entice her husband into bed, I assure you of that.”
Perrot’s gaze flickered over the front of her dress. “And a good romp it will be, I warrant. But you already know that, eh, O’Neill?” He laughed a little.
Liam smiled, too.
Katherine seethed.
Perrot shot Katherine another glance and turned, calling over his shoulder, “You will have your papers within the hour, Captain. But know this. If the queen did not command my aid, I would deny you this mission.” He strode downthe gangplank, his huge weight making the wood groan. At the other end he snapped to his soldiers, “No one is to leave this ship unless they carry orders from me!”
Liam and Katherine watched as he was assisted onto his horse and thundered away with his cavalcade. When he was gone, she jerked away from Liam, rubbing her arm. “Spineless worm!”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Do you slander him—or me?”
“You!” she cried. “You are no red-blooded Irishman, but a blue-blooded Brit—aye, you have proved yourself this day!”
“I have heard that before,” Liam said, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing. “And you, dear Katherine, are a total fool to bait the most powerful man in Ireland.”
“Powerful, bah!” she spit. “My father was powerful—he is but a fat, long-tongued toad! I suppose you enjoyed your comradely male exchange?”
Liam towered over her. “Without traveling papers, we go nowhere, mistress, nowhere.”
“Traveling papers? Why do we need such papers?” she shot.
“Lord Perrot has enacted many new laws since his appointment—all designed to make life miserable for the Irish. One disallows travel. That is, no one is allowed to travel anywhere without papers sealed by him. And that includes us.”
Katherine stared. “Why—that is intolerable!”
“No more intolerable than the outlawing of bards and poets, of native dress and glibs,” Liam said.
Katherine was aghast. “He has outlawed rhyme and harp?”
“Among many other things.”
“He is a pig!” Katherine cried.
“Actually, he is a distinguished and capable soldier. And he is lord president now, appointed by the queen. Although we enjoy the queen’s blessings now, he could decide to detain us anyway. Especially after the treasonous way you spoke. He has the power of life and death over both of us, Katherine, and I suggest you do not forget it.” Liam strode away.
Katherine watched him go, pale, no longer fuming.
Cork was an important trading town, and had been so since medieval times. Narrow cobbled streets ran this way and that. Single- and double-storied homes, stuccoed and timbered and partially made of stone, crowded against one another. Ofttimes shops were below, where craftsmen and artisans plied their trade, where bakers formed their fresh-made loaves and pies. A crumbling old Norman church lay in the shadow of a soaring cathedral that had been completed during the reign of Henry VIII. The walled castle and the garrison within it were adjacent to the harbor, and the entire town was walled as well.
It was but two summers earlier that Cork had been besieged by FitzMaurice and the rebels. The seige had not lasted long, for the rebels had retreated when news of Sir Henry Sidney’s arrival had reached them. Sir Henry had relieved Cork with both victual and troops, but FitzMaurice had already been declared a traitor to the Crown, not for laying waste to the countryside, not for killing whatever English settlers he could find, but for denouncing the queen as a heretic publicly before the city walls.
As Katherine, Liam, and Macgregor now rode through the town’s northern gate, she was appalled. Once upon a time the countryside surrounding Cork had been lush meadows, dotted with sheep and cows, and fertile farmland, planted with rye and oats. Thick forests had fringed the farms and crept over the hillsides. Now all was changed.
The land had been devastated by war. The meadows and farms were burned and barren. The forests were sparse, blackened sycamore amongst the few lonely surviving pine. Piles of rubble that had once been stone cottages marked each passing farm. “Oh dear God,” Katherine said. “What has happened? Damn the English! Damn them!”
Liam sent her a grave glance. “Unfortunately, your cousin FitzMaurice did as much of the damage as Sir Henry Sidney. He was determined to drive off the settlers, even if it meant destroying the land. He managed to do both. Then, of course, the queen sent Sir Henry Sidney after him. And Sidney, chasing FitzMaurice west, left asimilar trail of destruction in his wake. If this war continues, all of southern Ireland will be, for all purposes, useless and dead.”
Katherine could not speak. Horrible images assailed her, of the thick, nearly impenetrable forests outside Askeaton Castle burned and blackened, of the meadows turned grassless and charcoal gray. She swerved her mount toward Liam so sharply that their knees knocked. “Askeaton?”
His glance softened. “I do not know if any of the fighting was near your home, Katherine. Most of it was between Cork in the east and Limerick in the west, between Tralee and Kilmallock.”
“Limerick!” she cried. There was a royal garrison at Limerick—and it was only twenty miles north of Askeaton, also on Lough Shannon. “Oh, God, I must go home.”
Liam’s glance slid over her. “That will be Barry’s decision, will it not?”
She stared at him, unable to look away. It did not seem real—that she was on her way to Barrymore and would be there shortly. She swallowed. “Yes. That will be Hugh’s decision.”
