Pirate Queen (12 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
Although Owen and Murrough O’Flaherty are mentioned in the Composition of Connacht, these two sons of Granuaile have not signed the document. They refuse to acknowledge that the English have any right to
redistribute
Irish lands. The same is true for many of the Bourkes of Mayo. Even those who originally signed are beginning to regret their actions.
Throughout her life Granuaile has known when a storm was brewing, even before the first puff of wind. Her oldest son, Owen, is married to Edmund Bourke’s
daughter
. Granuaile sends him a message urging him to be cautious. ‘Give Bingham no reason to connect you with me,’ she suggests.
With his wife and dependents, Owen O’Flaherty withdraws to Ballinahinch Castle. At the end of January 1586, Richard Bingham hangs seventy members of the Bourke clan. But in the fastnesses of Iar Connacht, Granuaile’s oldest son is left at peace.
The following month The MacWilliam dies. Once again the English authorities fail to accept Edmund Bourke as the new chieftain, though many of the Bourkes regard him as the rightful heir. Although he is an old man, Edmund Bourke rebels. His rebellion is supported by his kinsman, The Devil’s Hook, who is married to Granuaile’s daughter Margaret. The Bourkes fight hard, but by March they are forced to retreat to an island
stronghold
in Lough Mask.
The Devil’s Hook sends to Granuaile for help.
When the message reaches Rockfleet she goes out onto the battlements and gazes across the bay toward Croagh Patrick. Richard is gone, Tibbott is far away. She has no one to confide in but God…and the holy mountain.
‘I have let Bingham frighten me for too long,’ she cries aloud, ‘and I hate being frightened. Enough is enough!’ Granuaile’s voice echoes across the expanse of blue water. ‘Enough is enough! Enough is enough!’
Sending for her personal boatmen, she sets out across the bay to Clare Island. There she orders her galleys back into the water.
Her fleet reaches Lough Mask as Richard Bingham is besieging the island. The sound of musket fire makes her blood simmer with excitement. It is like the old days again. Bingham is commanding several boats laden with warriors, but Granuaile has the advantage of more agile craft. Sweeping across the lake, she drives the English away from the island. The boat containing Bingham is overturned and he is nearly drowned.
His men raise a great cry that identifies him. Granuaile peers over the rail of her own galley. She thinks she sees a dark head bobbing in the water. ‘Shoot him!’ she shouts to her musketeers. ‘Blow him to bits!’
But musket fire is unreliable at best. At a distance, trying to hit a tiny target in a choppy lake, there is little hope of success.
Bingham is a strong swimmer. He makes it to shore, where a party of horsemen is waiting. ‘He will send for reinforcements,’ Granuaile warns her crew. ‘We must get my son-in-law off the island before we find ourselves badly outnumbered.’
They anchor in the shallows and help The Devil’s Hook and the others aboard. Then they set sail for Clew Bay. There are a hundred secret places in that vast
wilderness
of islands, where fugitives can hide and never be found.
Richard Bingham cannot admit that he has been
outdone
. He begins hanging those members of the Bourke clan within his reach – even those who have submitted to him and took no part in the revolt.
Tibbott Bourke seems safe enough, however. His
personal
connection with George Bingham offers protection. Heis even allowed to take his new wife back to Burrishoole.
Her success against Richard Bingham has
strengthened
Granuaile’s confidence. It is a small victory and has cost lives, but at least she was not beaten.
She was not beaten. She hugs this knowledge to her breast.
She has not long to enjoy her triumph.
In June, unfamiliar ships sail into the mouth of Clew Bay. Granuaile goes out in her curragh to demand they pay the traditional fee for entering her waters. She does not realise that another brother of Richard Bingham
captains
the vessels. He has come to Mayo in search of plunder. When he sees the tall, swarthy woman who dresses like a man and challenges him in a hoarse voice, John Bingham knows exactly who she is.
At first he appears willing to negotiate with her. But it is a trick. As soon as he has Granuaile on his flagship, John Bingham gives an order for his crew to seize her. Then he sends his men ashore to take her cattle and horses.
While Granuaile was in prison her people had depended on those herds for survival. Now she has to stand on the deck, bound hand and foot, and watch while her walking wealth is driven aboard English ships.
She can hear the cattle bawling as John Bingham gives the order to weigh anchor and set sail.
My dear Toby,
I have been cruelly tricked. John Bingham stole my livestock and took me to Galway, where he turned me over to his brother. The governor refused to hear my
complaints
about being robbed of my property. I was treated
as a common criminal and thrown into a cell.
Being imprisoned again was more than I could bear. I confess to you, my son, that I could feel madness run toward me with the scampering rats.
I could hear hammering in the courtyard. ‘They are building a gallows especially for you,’ my gaolers told me.
Then a miracle occurred. I had risked myself to save The Devil’s Hook at Lough Mask. So he surrendered himself to Richard Bingham in return for my freedom. He will stand hostage to ensure my good conduct.
That is what it means to be part of a clan, Toby. We are tied with bonds stouter than rope. The man who
married
my daughter is my son as surely as if I had given birth to him. How can anyone break us!
Even Richard Bingham was impressed by the
gesture
. He took my son-in-law into custody for a twelvemonth. Before he would let me go, however, the governor demanded that I give up my seafaring
enterprises
. Yet he kept my herds. He said I owed them to the queen to pay for my past crimes.
Without cattle I have no way to support myself and my people, but the sea.
I amnot held by chains and bars, yet Bingham has me in a prison just the same. He cannot hold me, though. I will find a way to be free.
Always,
Granuaile
Richard Bingham is not through with the Bourkes. Once he has The Devil’s Hook in Galway Gaol, he sets out to destroy the remaining resistance. Edmund Bourke is ninety years of age and still defiant. But without The Devil’s Hook to protect him, he is captured. At the end of July the governor hangs the old man.
Then Richard Bingham appoints his brother John as his lieutenant in Iar Connacht. With five hundred men, John Bingham marches to Ballinahinch Castle. When he arrives Bingham demands hospitality of Owen O’Flaherty.
O’Flaherty has no choice but to feed his enemy.
The New English have overthrown Gaelic law, yet still it binds the oldest son of Granuaile.
Granuaile had thought being in prison was the worst thing that could happen to her. It is not.
John Bingham and his men eat her son’s bread and salt in Ballinahinch Castle, then seize Owen. They also take his family and servants captive. With none to hinder
them, they steal his cattle and horses and all his personal property. They even take the reliquary from the family chapel.
The English hang Owen’s men without any
pretence
of giving them a trial first. They even hang a helpless old fellow who had the misfortune to be a guest in the castle when Bingham arrived. The womenfolk are herded together into one of the outbuildings and left alone in the dark.
Owen is imprisoned in a bedchamber with a heavy bar across the door. A guard is stationed outside. John Bingham is careful to say, in front of witnesses, that he means Owen O’Flaherty to be kept safe from harm.
Sometime during the night voices call from outside the castle, warning that an attack is underway. The guard at Owen’s chamber leaves his post to see what is
happening
. It proves to be a false alarm. When he returns the door is still barred, or so he claims. But when it is opened in the morning, Owen O’Flaherty lies dead within the room. Blood is still seeping from at least twelve wounds.
John Bingham claims to know nothing about the murder. He turns the women loose to mourn, packs up his stolen booty, and rides away laughing.
Granuaile had thought she knew every sort of pain, but this is a new one.
Owen. First born, first lost
.
The murder of her son is bad enough. Almost worse is the feeling that she failed him. When he was growing up she spent most of her time at sea. She had thought to
provide
her children with a secure future by making their
clan prosperous, but that was a false hope. Security, she knows now, is an illusion.
Owen is forever beyond his mother’s reach. She cannot make anything up to him. Or to his brother
Murrough
, for that matter. Bitter and angry, Murrough goes his own way. He will not listen to Granuaile. He blames her for making an enemy of the Binghams.
Sidney, Malby, even Lord Grey, treated Granuaile as something of a curiosity. They used her as a pawn, but they were generous enough when it suited them. The Binghams are different. They seem determined to destroy her personally.
Restless as a tiger, she prowls the invisible
boundaries
of her cage. She can take a currach to Achill to see her daughter Margaret, or even sail one of her galleys back and forth across Clew Bay. But not outside. Not onto the broad lap of the open sea.
My dear Toby,
Do not be surprised when you learn where I am. For the moment at least I have slipped Bingham’s clutches.
As you may know, The Devil’s Hook escaped from Galway Gaol. When he appeared at Achill I was glad for my daughter’s sake, but I knew what it meant for me. My son-in-law had been my pledge of good conduct. Now that he was free, Bingham would drag me back to prison – or the gallows.
Under cover of a dense fog, I slipped out of Clew Bay with my three best galleys. I was determined to make a run for the north. As we entered Sligo Bay a terrible storm blew up. Rarely have I met such a gale. Again and again, we were blown toward the rocks. All my seamanship, and my crew’s courage, was needed to keep us afloat. By the time we reached safe harbour in Donegal my ships were
battered almost to pieces. But we were beyond the reach of the governor of Connacht.
It is wonderful to be among allies.
Hugh Dubh O’Donnell has invited me to stay in Donegal Castle for as long as I like. It will take many weeks to repair my ships to the standard I demand. They were built to my order in La Coruña, in Spain, and there is no one here with similar skills.
I shall pass the time by conferring with the princes of Ulster. Hugh O’Neill will be coming here within the next few weeks from his stronghold at Dungannon. He wants to discuss the rumours of a possible Spanish invasion of England. Spain is a Catholic country, like Ireland. King Philip of Spain desires to see Catholicism restored in
England
. He is also very angry about English piracy against Spanish trade and possessions.
If Philip attacks Elizabeth we will ally ourselves with the Spanish. Together we can break the hold of England on this island once and for all.
O’Donnell’s son, Red Hugh, is wildly excited by the prospect. The young lad is ready to take up arms
tomorrow
. I remember when I was like that. The blood ran hot in my veins and I thought I was immortal. Red Hugh makes me feel that way again.
Always,
Granuaile
Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, arrives in Tyrconnell with all the trappings of the Gaelic nobility. O’Neill is
considerably
younger than O’Donnell. He is a sturdy, handsome man in the prime of life. His followers are devoted to him. He is considered the foremost chieftain of the north,
although
he speaks Irish with a peculiarly English accent.
The poverty that is so visible elsewhere, as the English strip the island of its resources, has not reached this part of the country. The north is still the land of the Gael. For size and luxury Donegal Castle rivals any in Ireland, and O’Donnell entertains his guests lavishly. In the great hall storytellers repeat the ancient hero-tales to a spellbound audience. Harpers play familiar airs on beautifully carved instruments. A whole ox roasts over a fire that hisses and snaps as the fat drips onto the coals. Children are given bowls of Ulster apples swimming in honey and cream.
The wine runs red.
Red. Like blood. A vision of her murdered son Owen flickers through Granuaile’s brain and she shudders.
She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. ‘What news of the Spanish invasion?’ she asks in a low, urgent voice.
‘Nothing yet,’ O’Neill tells her.
She slumps back on her bench.
During the day she goes down to the harbour to supervise the repairs to her ships. Night after night, she joins O’Neill and O’Donnell to discuss the political
situation
. Other women talk of their husbands and children, but Granuaile does not spend her time with other women.
In spite of the ongoing discussions about rebellion, the north remains peaceful. O’Donnell and O’Neill are thoughtful men. They agree to wait and see what the Spanish do before they act.
Passing seamen report that Mayo is at peace as well. In July Elizabeth sends Richard Bingham to Flanders as a reward for his services. The search for Granuaile is
abandoned
as the new governor finds all his time is taken up with the administration of the province.
‘It is time I went home,’ Granuaile says. Her friends assure her that she is welcome to spend the rest of her life with one of them. ‘How much can one old woman eat?’ Hugh O’Neill laughs.
Granuaile is not amused. She is not ready to be an old woman, living on the hospitality of her friends. At night she dreams of Clew Bay. She can almost hear the cries of the kittiwakes, almost see people waving from the shore of Clare Island.
‘I have a letter from my son Tibbott,’ she tells O’Donnell, ‘and I have to go home.’
‘Why? Are the English threatening him?’
Granuaile shakes her head. ‘Tibbott does not fear the English. In his youth he was a hostage in the household of George Bingham, and formed relationships which have kept him safe ever since.’
Hugh O’Neill says, ‘Elizabeth Tudor wants the sons of Irish chieftains to be converted into obedient English subjects. When I was nine years old Sir Henry Sidney took me to England. His family dressed ‘their little Irish
savage’ in velvets and laces and taught me manners. Elizabeth Tudor treated me as her special pet,’ he adds with a curl of his lip. ‘She was fond of me and gave me many gifts. I made a number of friends at court. Friends I retain to this day. Then, when I was seventeen and a man, Elizabeth sent me back to Ireland as earl of Tyrone.’
‘Yet I assure you, Granuaile – if the queen knew I was plotting against her now, she would hate me more than if I had been her enemy from the start.’
