Pirate Queen (15 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
The queen responds to Granuaile’s petition with
eighteen
written questions. Elizabeth inquires about a wife’s position under Gaelic law, and how much of her
husband’s
property she is entitled to claim. The English queen also wants to know the personal details of Granuaile’s life.
Through Tibbott, Granuaile replies. When
describing
her seafaring exploits she uses very guarded language. Naturally, she does not mention her plundering at all. Her answers are designed to arouse sympathy from Elizabeth Tudor, who has also spent a lifetime trying to outwit ambitious men. She orders that Granuaile’s answers be put into the State Papers, and prepares to grant her requests.
Meanwhile Richard Bingham moves against Granuaile. He arrests both Tibbott and Granuaile’s
half-brother
, Donal of the Pipes. They are charged with
conspiring
to murder Bingham. Witnesses are bribed to testify against them.
Granuaile is horrified. She had thought Tibbott, at least, was safe from Bingham. But the man has grown more vicious over the years. The time for written
petitions
is over – sending letters from Ireland to England takes too long. Only action will do now.
The tall she-king leans over a parapet at Rockfleet, gazing across the bay. She is very still, like the
shimmering
blue water. Yet beneath the surface her mind is busy. She is measuring her strength, her health, her energy. Weighing herself up against the task she proposes.
Her teeth clench. Her jaw thrusts forward and a light comes into her eyes. She whirls around and goes back into the tower, hurrying down the steep spiral stair almost as nimbly as a young girl. When she reaches the bottom she begins shouting for one of the few attendants who remain with her. ‘I need someone who knows
someone
who has a horse!’
Granuaile summons help from old friends and acquaintances. They assemble enough material to make three galleys seaworthy. In late July, Granuaile sets sail for England … and the court of Elizabeth Tudor.
Although she will never admit it, Granuaile’s heart is in her throat when she calls upon Elizabeth at her palace at Greenwich. The queen has already received angry letters from Bingham about her. It is up to Granuaile to present a very different picture of herself.
To remind Elizabeth that they are both she-kings, she dresses as a woman of the Gaelic nobility. The green velvet of her gown is fabric she herself once imported. The gown is made with slitted arms to reveal the
bell-shaped
sleeves of an Ulster linen smock beneath. The bodice is cut low to show that Granuaile’s throat and bosom are still as firm as a girl’s. Although they are the same age, Elizabeth cannot make the same boast.
Over her gown Granuaile wears a great fur cloak, lined with silk. Its fringed hem sweeps the ground. The English like to believe that the Irish go barefoot, but in truth, almost everyone has leather shoes. Until the
English
began seizing Irish herds there was plenty of leather.
For her meeting with Elizabeth, Granuaile selects a pair of soft boots made from Mayo hides. The toes are
ornamented
with gold embroidery.
Hidden in her belt is a dagger. A Spanish dagger.
The English never think to search this mere woman for weapons.
When Granuaile is brought before the queen in her audience chamber, she fights to hide her astonishment. She expected someone as tall as a Gaelic chieftain, a mighty monarch, a warrior like herself. But Elizabeth Tudor does not reach her shoulder. She is a wee brittle thing Granuaile could break over her knee.
Attendants cluster around the English queen, doing everything but breathe for her. Her face is as white as chalk. At first Granuaile thinks Elizabeth is ill. Then she realises the woman’s skin is caked with powder.
Granuaile’s heavy hair is pinned with silver bodkins. Elizabeth wears a red wig of a most unnatural hue.
Can it be the woman is bald?
Granuaile wonders.
The English queen’s costume seems ridiculous. A vast lace collar surrounds her face and head. She cannot possibly see anyone sneaking up behind her. The bodice of her gown is so rigid she can hardly breathe. Jewels encrust her person from head to heels, weighing her down. Her feet are squeezed into tiny shoes with heels so high she can hardly walk.
What could she do if she was attacked?
Granuaile bites her lip to keep from laughing.
Then their eyes meet. And lock.
A strange sensation passes over Granuaile.
She knows Elizabeth. Knows her as she knows the sea or the wind. The queen of England is a woman who has suffered, as the Irish she-king has suffered. Granuaile feels a sudden pity for Elizabeth. This immensely
powerful
woman, imprisoned within her stiff clothes and her crowding courtiers, can never be free.
Granuaile refuses an interpreter and speaks with Elizabeth in Latin. The two women were born in the same year, Granuaile learns. ‘Had we been born in the same place we might have been friends,’ she says to the queen.
Elizabeth invites Granuaile to sit beside her while they talk together. Her courtiers wait, shifting from one foot to the other. The queen does not invite them to sit.
For all her physical weakness, it is soon obvious that Elizabeth Tudor has the mind of a born ruler. Hard,
practical
. Granuaile treats the queen with the respect she seeks for herself. She does not lie to Elizabeth. She does not tell all the truth, but what she does say is true.
She puts her case calmly and reasonably, and the queen listens in the same way. During the long afternoon they speak of many things. They discuss what it is like for a woman to be a leader of men. Elizabeth says she is amazed by Granuaile’s success. Granuaile replies that she is equally amazed by Elizabeth.
The queen does not smile, but her eyes dance. They are fine eyes. She must have been beautiful, once.
When their meeting is over, Elizabeth offers Granuaile the hospitality of the palace until a decision is
made about her case. Granuaile thanks her and starts to leave the chamber. Abruptly, the Irish woman sneezes. A great big whoop of a sneeze. The queen nods to one of her attendants, who hands Granuaile a tiny square of cambric.
She blows her nose long and loud. Then she tosses the handkerchief into the fire on the hearth.
Elizabeth cannot raise her eyebrows, for she has none. But there is icy disapproval in her voice. ‘In
England
we put our used handkerchiefs back into our sleeves,’ she says.
‘In Ireland,’ Granuaile replies, ‘we are not so unclean that we stuff soiled handkerchiefs into our clothing.’
Elizabeth stares at her.
She stares back.
Slowly, Elizabeth begins to smile. The powder on her face cracks like glazed porcelain, but she smiles.
My dear Toby,
As you know by now, the queen of England has granted my petition in full. She has ordered that you and Donal be released, and further ordered that Richard
Bingham
cease his persecution of me. And, wonder of wonders! She has even given me permission to restore my fleet, so long as I use it to attack any who offend her.
My offer to use my ships on her behalf meant that it was in her best interest to return them to me.
When we set sail for home, I stood in the prow of my galley and gloried in the sweet wind on my face, blowing toward me from Ireland. The wind meant we could not use our sails, but my rowers bent to their task with a good will.
The most blessed journeys are always the ones you make going home.
I have just reached Rockfleet. By the time you receive this letter you will be at home at Burrishoole with your wife and your two little boys. Go to your chapel and give thanks.
And say a prayer for Elizabeth of England.
Always,
Granuaile
By allowing Granuaile to restore her fleet, Elizabeth has given her permission to support herself in the old way. Bingham is furious, but there is nothing he can do.
Granuaile spends the winter at Rockfleet. She makes frequent journeys out to Clare Island to supervise the work being done on her galleys. Her overjoyed clansmen cluster around her, praising their she-king. Thanks to her, the sea is theirs again.
In spring the galleys take to the sea. They are rigged for fishing, but they do not fish. Once they are beyond observation they sail north to transport men and arms for O’Donnell and O’Neill.
The battle for Ireland continues.
By June of 1959, Red Hugh O’Donnell’s men are pouring into Connacht. Many of the Bourkes are joining with them. Ulick Bourke attacks Sligo Castle and kills Toby’s former host, George Bingham. ‘If this causes you grief, I amsorry,’ Granuaile tells her son. ‘But the man was a Bingham, Toby.
‘You would be well advised to join with O’Donnell and your Bourke kinsmen at this time,’ Granuaile
continues
. ‘The allies are planning their strategy carefully. This includes sending the queen a new petition. They shall ask her to have Richard Bingham tried for his failures as
governor
of Connacht. While I was at Greenwich I told the queen many things about Bingham, and she listened to me most carefully. One woman telling another of the wickedness and deceit of men.
‘Elizabeth will blame Bingham for the bad policies that have brought the province to rebellion. If she gets rid of him for us altogether, it will be a great victory.’
In the great hall at Rockfleet, Granuaile props her feet on a stool and leans back with a contented sigh. Shaggy hounds lie at her feet. A fire roars in the hearth.
In her fingers is a letter.
Richard Bingham has been ordered to stand trial in Athlone. Fearful of the outcome, he has fled to England. There he was seized by Elizabeth’s men and promptly imprisoned.
The duke of Ormond has written his old friend, Granuaile, with the news.
‘I hope Bingham’s cell is full of rats,’ she murmurs to the hounds.
My dear Toby,
Now that Shane MacOliverus’s brother is dead and the title is vacant again, I was furious to learn that
O’Donnell
is not supporting you for the MacWilliamship. When his army marched into Mayo and drove back the English, it seemed like an answer to our prayers. I was happy enough to see him take control of the region. I never thought he would prefer someone else as chieftain of the Mayo Bourkes. It is a dreadful mistake. He forgets what a good ally I have been to the princes of the north.
Many of your father’s kinsmen will turn against O’Donnell because of this. I shall see to it. Red Hugh and I have long been friends, or so I thought. But now he has acted against my son’s interest.
Who are our true friends? Whom can we really rely upon? When I look back at my youth everything seemed so clear. I do not know any more.
Perhaps I am just growing old, Toby. When I count up my years, I find that I have endured sixty-six winters. Yet I do not feel old inside myself. When I first awake in the morning I am the same woman I always was. I jump up from my bed, eager for the day. Then my bones creak and my muscles ache and I am reminded.
I wonder if Elizabeth feels the same.
Even age has lessons to teach us. It is not possible to live in the past, and today will be over too soon. Prepare for the future, my son.
Always,
Granuaile
The ravenous armies from Donegal are reducing Mayo to near famine.
Granuaile encourages the Bourkes to desert Red Hugh O’Donnell.
Furious, he turns his men loose to plunder her lands. Her rebuilt herd is slaughtered. Then O’Donnell’s warriors march to Toby’s stronghold at Burrishoole and cause the same damage there.
Early in 1597 a new governor, Sir Clifford Conyers, is appointed for Connacht. He immediately moves against O’Donnell. Whenthe Bourkes will not stand with the Donegal chieftain, Conyers succeeds in driving him back into Ulster.
