Pirate Queen (11 page)

The following year, Richard-in-Iron fights his last battle. It is a battle with illness, and one that he cannot win. Granuaile is more distressed by his death than she cares to admit. Many disliked him, but she has had no cause to complain of him. Once he realised that her judgement was better than his and consented to be guided by her, they had a smooth enough voyage together.

With Richard dead, there is fresh trouble. The
English
have named the younger brother of Shane MacOliverus as The MacWilliam. Some of the Bourkes will not accept MacOliverus as chieftain, because he was never tanaiste. Edmund Bourke of Castle Barry was Shane’s chosen successor. The Bourkes split over the issue. With the English interfering, all Mayo may become a battlefield.

The tall, lean woman prowls the battlements of
Rockfleet
. A rising wind whips her hair into her eyes. She tosses her head impatiently. Although she can smell ice on the wind and knows hail is coming, she prefers to be outside. She will not go in until the storm forces her to take shelter.

How different the tower seems,
she thinks,
without
Richard
.
It had not been his home for years – during most of their marriage he lived at Burrishoole. Yet now that he is gone, Granuaile senses him on the stair, in the armoury, in the great hall. Sometimes in the night she hears him
snoring
in bed beside her. When she jumps up and lights a candle, no one is there.

No one is ever there. Only her memories.

Her memories stalk the battlements of Rockfleet Castle.

A shiver runs up her spine. The rain has not begun, but Granuaile is cold. She makes the sign of the cross on her breast and turns to go inside.

Against her expectations, Mayo remains at peace. The battles that raged over the chieftainship are over. The brother of Shane MacOliverus holds the title. Cathair-na-Mart was burnt to the ground and Granuaile’s half-brother Donal is homeless, but at least he is still alive. When he whines, she reminds him that he has much to be thankful for.

‘Being alive is no small thing,’ she tells him. ‘I hate a man who snivels even more than I hate a coward. There is some excuse for fear. There is never any excuse for
whining
. A man who pities himself has no pity left over for others.’

Granuaile fears they may all soon need pity. Malby has died, and his successor as governor of Connacht is Richard Bingham, a man she knows only by reputation. Bingham has stated publicly that the Irish are vermin.

The campaign to conquer Desmond has proved very expensive for the English. They finally succeeded, but only by devastating Munster with fire and famine. If Bingham has his way, Connacht will receive the same treatment.

Meanwhile Sir John Perrot has succeeded Lord Grey as lord deputy of Ireland. Unlike Bingham, Perrot is said to be a moderate man. He believes persuasion is
preferable
to armed force. Therefore the policy of ‘Surrender and Regrant’ is being urged upon the Irish chieftains. If they surrender their holdings and their claims to an Irish title, they are granted new English titles. They are also given back some, though not all, of the lands they
formerly
held.

The English ignore the fact that this land was held in common for the chieftain’s clan. It was never his personal property to barter away.

They are tricking us into selling the very earth beneath our feet!
Granuaile fumes.
The earth that holds our fathers’ fathers. But they cannot buy the sea.

The sea is mine.

A new document is drawn up by Perrot’s officials. Called ‘The Composition of Connacht’, it reflects sweeping changes in the possession of land. The ancient clanholds are carved up and lost. Chieftains who resist are slain and their holdings seized anyway. Perrot may be moderate compared to Richard Bingham, but his policies are
destroying
Gaelic Ireland.

Granuaile continues to sail with her fleet. Although she is careful to avoid English warships, her trade and piracy go on as before. This is the tradition she inherited. She cannot imagine any other way of living.

Granuaile’s name turns up with increasing frequency in reports to the new governor of Connacht. At first
Bingham
does not take the matter seriously. A woman? She cannot be much of a threat. Then he learns that she is importing guns into Ulster. Worse still, she is harassing merchant ships along the coast. Valuable trade is being lost.

Bingham has secretly arranged for a percentage of all trade in western waters to find its way to his own purse.

He sets himself to learn as much as he can about the notorious pirate queen. One of the facts he discovers is the existence of her youngest son, Tibbott Bourke. By all reports Tibbott is the blood in his mother’s heart.

In July of 1584, while Granuaile is overseeing a
refitting
of her favourite galley, a messenger arrives on Clare Island. ‘Richard Bingham has taken your son Tibbott prisoner!’ he blurts out.

She stares at him in horror. ‘Are you certain?’

‘I am one of Tibbott’s servants. I was there when they seized him and carried him away in a cart.’

Granuaile leaps to her feet and begins to stride back and forth across the room, striking the palm of one hand with the fist of the other. The messenger is terrified by the expression on her face. ‘I would have saved him if I could!’ he tells her repeatedly.

Granuaile does not hear him. She is muttering to
herself
. ‘Bingham commanded me to cease my seafaring operations, but I would not. With Toby as a hostage he thinks he can force me to submit to his will.’

Suddenly she throws up her head and fixes the
frightened
messenger with a fierce glare. ‘Where have they taken my son, do you know?’

‘I overheard the orders being given. He was to be delivered to Richard Bingham’s brother George, at
Ballymote
Castle in Sligo.’

Granuaile nods. ‘I know the place. It is well fortified, we cannot hope to break him out of there. But perhaps we can get a message to him. Can I trust you?’

‘Are you not Granuaile?’ the man replies. ‘You can trust me with your life, for I would give mine for your sake.’

She hastily writes a letter to Tibbott, asking the exact circumstances of his confinement. She waits with impatience for an answer. When it comes Granuaile tears off the seal of red wax and devours the words with her eyes.

Toby writes that he is comfortable and being treated well. ‘Like one of the family,’ he explains. ‘I have my own quarters and am allowed the freedom of the house.’

Granuaile folds his letter and taps it against her teeth as she stares into space.

We are presented with an opportunity here,
she tells
herself
.
Even disasters can be turned to profit if one is clever.
She reaches for pen and paper.

She writes calmly and reassuringly to her son, but inside she is frantic.
Bingham has Toby. Dear God, he has Toby!

With an aching heart, she gives the order for her fleet to be beached indefinitely.

The winter comes early this year, and lasts long. Cold winds howl around the tower of Rockfleet. Granuaile stays inside most of the time. She cannot bear the sight of the empty bay.

She is not defeated, though. She is merely waiting.

In June of 1585, Richard Bingham summons the Mayo chieftains to Galway. The summons also includes Granuaile, to her surprise. She has been beseeching him for months to discuss the matter of her son’s captivity, but until now he has ignored her. It is a cruel and deliberate torture.

When she arrives in Galway Granuaile does not know what to expect. So many dreadful tales are being told of Bingham. And as soon as she sees him, she knows the
stories
are true. Richard Bingham has a long, cold, sharp-featured face, his dark beard tightly trimmed in the English fashion. He reminds Granuaile of a weasel. A weasel dressed in a velvet doublet and a high collar.

In the large chamber that serves as his audience room, he moves down the line of assembled chieftains while his secretary calls each person by name. Bingham speaks to a few, hardly glances at others. But when he reaches Granuaile, their eyes meet. Lock. Something passes between them.

Occasionally, when two strange hounds meet in the road, the hackles rise on their necks. Even though they have never seen each other before, they bare their fangs and stiffen their forelegs. They will fight to the death if someone does not pull them apart.

That is what happens between Granuaile and Richard Bingham.

She tries to hide her emotions. ‘I hoped you would have my son with you,’ she says politely. ‘It would have been proper to include Tibbott among the Mayo
chieftains
, as his father’s heir.’

Bingham smiles, revealing narrow yellow teeth. ‘You were hoping to help him escape,’ he replies shrewdly. Abruptly he snaps his fingers. His secretary begins
reading
from a list that contains the names of the chieftains who have accepted Surrender and Regrant. ‘Warrants will be issued for those who have refused,’ Bingham announces, ‘and for those who are absent. It is assumed they are traitors. Their deaths will be sought.’

Granuaile gasps. ‘My son …’

‘Ah yes. Your son. First let us discuss your situation, Grace O’Malley. If you are willing to be agreeable, you will be allowed to live out your life undisturbed. You may even attend Tibbott Bourke’s wedding.’

Her jaw drops. ‘What?’

‘Tibbott has been writing to you, I understand. Has he not told you of his betrothal?’ Bingham is enjoying this enormously. ‘My brother George introduced your son to Maude O’Connor of Sligo, and now they are to be married.
Is that not happy news? She is a fine young woman of unquestioned loyalty to the Queen, and your son is an intelligent man. Through this marriage our two peoples will develop new bonds of … friendship.’ Bingham smiles again. The smile of a weasel just before it kills.

Granuaile is struggling to understand. The Sligo O’Connors are a prominent Irish family who have accepted the dominance of the English. They have even changed the name of their daughter Maeve to Maude.
And this is the young woman Toby will marry,
Granuaile thinks.
Through her, Bingham binds my son with a silken web. To control me. It is all done to control me. Men like Bingham use women as pawns.

But I am not like other women and the game is not over yet, no matter what Bingham thinks.