The Game (23 page)

She gasped, then clapped her hands with girlish glee. “Thank you, my lord brother!”

Ormond managed a smile. He turned away in case she might think to embrace him. He was determined now to find her a husband, and was not daunted at the prospect of having to persuade the queen. Yet he found himself deeply confused. Katherine’s joy seemed both childish and sincere—so sincere. Yet it could not be real. It could not.

Katherine FitzGerald had to be a conspirator, and he was determined to prove it.

“K
atherine,” Lady Hastings whispered. “Have you heard? Is it true?”

Katherine stood in the withdrawing room with the six other privy ladies in a cluster as they waited for the queen to emerge from her bedchamber. Also in the antechamber were dozens of noblemen: earls, barons, and knights, all royal officials or royal favorites, including her half brother, the earl of Ormond, and the earl of Leicester, Lord Robert Dudley, the Master of the Horse. Also present were some two dozen scarlet-clad Gentlemen Pensioners, the queen’s personal bodyguard.

Katherine knew that the other ladies had quieted to hear her reply. Likewise, she felt Leicester’s eyes upon her—as she so often did. She feigned ignorance of the subject. “I beg your pardon, Lady Hastings, but of what do you speak?”

Anne Hastings tittered and raised her fan, her eyes glowing. “Come, Katherine, you know of what I speak. The entire court has been abuzz with the news all week! Could it be true? Could Liam O’Neill have left the queen and but a day later set upon one of King Philip’s money ships?”

Katherine’s pulse pounded. The court had deemed her an expert on Liam O’Neill. Ormond had not spoken falsely when he said that the entire world knew of Liam’s manhandling of her. Even before the rumor of his latest daring escapade had begun to run rampant, the ladies had bom
barded her with less than discreet questions about him. It had quickly become clear to Katherine that several of the queen’s ladies, all of whom were married, and were of high and important rank, not to mention very beautiful, were quite interested in the pirate in a way that they should not be. All week she had tried to pretend that she did not know him very well and that he had not kissed her in the most improper manner, both publicly and privately.

Liam O’Neill was the talk of the court. For not a day after he’d left Whitehall, he had set upon a Spanish galleon bound for the Netherlands. And it had not been just any Spanish galleon that he’d attacked, but one laden with silver plate and gold bullion, sent by King Philip of Spain to finance the duke of Alva in his campaign against the Protestant rebels there. Although the
Sea Dagger
was but half the size of the Spanish vessel, and equipped with half the cannon, Liam had attacked.

Rumors of his astounding victory had been reaching the court all week. But one and all wondered if it were true. Katherine wondered, too. Could the much smaller pirate ship possibly defeat a Spanish man-of-war? It hardly seemed possible. In fact, the reverse was far more likely. Katherine grew cold all over when she thought of Liam defeated by the Spanish, bound and manacled and sent to a prison in Spain. She tried to reassure herself by telling herself that if any man was a survivor, it was Liam O’Neill.

But what if he were dead?

“Katherine?” Lady Hastings said again, more loudly. “Could your pirate have been so bold and so daring?”

Katherine turned red. She met Leicester’s brazen gaze. She knew he had heard their every word. Quickly she faced Anne. “He is not my pirate. Lady Hastings. I must protest such language!”

Anne laid her Oriental fan with its ivory handles upon Katherine’s arm. “If he is not yours,” she whispered, “you are a fool—and I will gladly take him!”

Katherine could only stare in shock. And she was saved from making a reply, for the queen appeared, followed by her four ladies of the bedchamber.

Katherine muffled a gasp. Not a day went by that she did not reel at the queen’s magnificence. Today she wore naught but white. Her white silk gown was beaded with pearls and embroidered with silver thread. Her pale silver underskirts were heavily embroidered in a lighter shade, and she wore gold, pearls, and rubies at her waist, around her throat, and dangling from her ears. Her ruff was huge and fantastical, and every little point bore a tiny, glowing pearl. As she emerged, a small crown of state upon her head, those she looked at quickly dropped to their knees. When she graced Katherine with a smile, Katherine knelt as well, her heart pounding.

The queen moved forward. The noblemen, all magnificently dressed and bejeweled, preceded her as she left her apartments. Behind the barons, earls, and knights of the Garter was the lord chancellor, bearing the seals of state in a red silk bag. On his either side were two liveried gentlemen attendants, one carrying the royal scepter, the other the sword of state in a red scabbard.

The queen followed them. She was surrounded by her Gentlemen Pensioners, her personal bodyguard, all noblemen of the highest rank and from the finest families, carrying gilt battle-axes. Her four maids of honor came next, then the ladies of her bedchamber. Katherine and the other six ladies of the Privy Chamber followed last.

They proceeded through the Presence Chamber into the hall, where many courtiers and petitioners awaited. One and all knelt as the queen passed by. In the antechapel she paused so that several petitions might be presented to her, which she received with a gracious smile. Several people, perhaps new to court, perhaps not, cried “God save thee, Queen Elizabeth!” Elizabeth smiled again, murmuring “I thank thee, my dear people.” She then followed her noblemen into the chapel for the morning mass. As Katherine knelt for the service in one of the last pews, she finally answered Anne Hastings’s question to herself.

Of course she believed the rumors. Liam would be so daring, and so bold, as to attack one of King Philip’s ships laden with gold. Of course it was true. He was probably
laughing about the matter even now—if he were still free, if he were still alive.

And then she found herself praying for the pirate’s welfare, and asking God to speed him to safety.

Later that day Katherine rode across London Bridge surrounded by a dozen of the Queen’s Guard. What a sight they made. Every yeoman wore a brilliant livery of scarlet, a golden rose embroidered upon its back. Each man carried a gilded halberd, its handle clothed in red velvet, and each rode the finest horseflesh, decked in silver-studded tack. Katherine herself was a dowdy wren in comparison to such splendor, clad as she was in the borrowed brown velvet and her old gray cloak. But it did not matter. What mattered was that the queen had given her permission to visit her father, as long as it did not interfere with her duties, and as long as she alerted Her Majesty to the fact of the outing. How kind the queen had become. And she had even instructed her to take her maid, Helen, to wait upon her during her family reunion.

Katherine knew that she should feel like a queen herself, to be escorted in such a manner to her father. But she did not. She was filled with anxiety instead.

She had been at court for several weeks, yet had not gone to see her father even once. Their last reunion had been so painful. Katherine had avoided recalling Gerald’s attempts to foist her off on Liam O’Neill. Now recollections of that horrible time filled her mind, no matter how much she wished to forget it. Katherine became resolved. Today she and Gerald would converse in a natural manner, as a long-separated father and daughter should. Despite his betrayal, Katherine still loved her father.

The gates of St. Leger House were open at this time of day and, as the small cavalcade clattered into the cobbled courtyard, Eleanor soon appeared on the front step, wide-eyed. She espied Katherine instantly. Katherine smiled at her but did not dismount.

The captain of the Guard, Sir John Hawke, had been kind enough to escort her to her father himself. He slipped from his blood bay gelding and strode to Katherine, who
sat one of the palfreys from the royal stable. He made a dashing figure in his red uniform, the epitome of a soldier and a gentleman. He held her a moment longer than was necessary when helping her to dismount, and Katherine was aware of it. Liam had made her aware of all the innuendos of desire that passed from a man to a woman.

Sir John seemed to be a suitor. Ever since she had begun to attend the queen, it had been clear that he, amongst many other gentlemen, found her very desirable. Sir John came from a fine family, and although the family’s fortunes were dwindling, should Katherine catch such a man ’twould be the ultimate match. He was handsome and pleasant and very noble, and she had heard naught but good about his character and family. Yet he did not keep her awake at night. Katherine wished it were he of whom she dreamed. Unfortunately, Liam O’Neill haunted her from afar.

Sir John bowed to her. “Mistress FitzGerald, take your time. I will await you no matter the length of your stay.”

She could not help flirting. She had been so long in a convent amongst women, and now, even clad in ugly brown velvet, she felt young, female, and free. She touched his arm lightly and fluttered her lashes as she had seen Anne Hastings and the other ladies do. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

His eyes sparkled.

Katherine turned, to meet her grim-faced stepmother. “We heard you were there, one of the queen’s ladies,” Eleanor said angrily. “Are you a traitor to your father, then, Katherine?”

Katherine’s smile faded. “I am no traitor to my father!”

“No? You have become one of them—how clear that is!” Eleanor turned her back on her and marched into the house.

Katherine did not move. Although she had not expected a warm or friendly greeting from Eleanor, neither had she expected to be accused of betraying her very own father. And was Eleanor right? She had been enjoying herself immensely these past weeks, overwhelmed with the
goings-on of the court and the queen and those closest to her. Did that make her disloyal to her own father?

Katherine realized that Sir John had come to stand beside her. She did not want him to fathom how distressed she was, so she flashed a too-bright smile and hurried on into the house.

Gerald stood leaning upon a cane in the dimly lit dining hall. He was unsmiling. His gaze searched her face as she came forward. Katherine was afraid that he would also call her a traitor.

But he did not. “So the queen has taken you into her protection, Katie? That is good.”

Katherine almost swooned with relief. Instead she gripped his arm, wanting to embrace him. “You are not angry, Father?” She was aware of Helen coming into the room, carrying a basket that contained some refreshments from the queen.

“Not at all.” Gerald seemed about to say more, but then he spotted her servant. “Who’d you bring with you, Katie?”

Katherine half turned. “The queen gave me a maid, Father.”

Gerald nodded, then guided Katherine to the table. “I heard that Barry decided to break the troth.”

Katherine sat down, then watched her father maneuver himself painfully onto the bench. “Yes.” She heard the catch in her throat. “Hugh never cared for me. He only wanted an earl’s daughter and the expected dowry.”

Gerald patted her back. “’Tis the way of men and you should know it. Tell me about Desmond.” He leaned toward her, at once eager and impatient.

Katherine saddened even more. Images of the charred land around Cork and Castle Barry swept through her mind. “Oh, Father. There has been so much war.”

Eleanor burst from the kitchens with a serving woman, carrying a wood trencher herself, the servant bearing ale and mugs. “Aye, and all is burned to the ground, it is. Isn’t that right, Katherine?” She smacked the trencher of bread and cheeses down.

“Much is destroyed,” Katherine agreed.

“Askeaton?”

“I do not know. I was not allowed to go home. Liam told me the castle has been abandoned—that many of our holdings have been abandoned. ’Tis true?”

Gerald nodded.

“So it is Liam now?” Eleanor asked.

Katherine flushed.

Gerald shot Eleanor a dark glance. “And FitzMaurice? Have you heard aught of my conniving cousin? I am surprised he has not taken up residence in Askeaton himself!” Gerald’s fists were clenched.

Eleanor also jumped to her feet. “Have you heard that he styles himself the earl of Desmond?” she asked Katherine. She did not wait for her stepdaughter to reply. “I tell you, he is after your father’s land and his title, and if he raises himself high enough—he will force the queen to give him all that was once ours! While we are reduced to begging, myself reduced to serving the table like any common cupbearer!”

Katherine’s heart was wrenched in two. “I am glad the betrothal is broken,” she told her father fiercely. “How could I marry Barry when he consorts with FitzMaurice against you?”

“You are a good lass, Katherine,” Gerald said, but he was agonized. Abruptly he stood, leaning on his cane. “I am not hungry,” he announced. “I do need air. Katie, walk with me.”

As Katherine had already eaten with the other ladies, dining on the queen’s leftovers—which were designed to feed her household—she got to her feet. As they left the hall, Helen followed. Gerald turned and waved her away. “No need,” he said, his tone friendly. “Can you not help my wife in the kitchens, mistress?”

Helen nodded and turned to help Eleanor clear the table.

Outside, it was chill but sunny. Katherine and her father walked arm and arm in the courtyard, Gerald leaning upon his daughter. Katherine was aware of Sir John and the other soldiers guarding the front gate, pretending not to watch them. Gerald paused. “We cannot trust anyone, Katie,” he said.

Katherine looked at him. “Surely you do not have spies in your own house?”

“’Tis not my house, ’tis St. Leger’s,” he said. “But Cecil has spies everywhere—you can be certain of that.”

Katherine was dismayed. Gerald’s next words distressed her even further. “Do not trust anyone,” he said sternly, “not even that pretty little maid.”

She gasped. “Why, Father! That is ridiculous! The queen herself appointed her to attend me! ’Twas most thoughtful.”

“Listen, daughter, and listen well. Do not trust
anyone
.”

Katherine grew uneasy. She nodded. She wondered if her father walked outside with her because of Cecil’s spies—or because of her maid. But the thought was too chilling. Surely Elizabeth had not planted a spy upon her—surely not.

“Tell me about O’Neill.”

Katherine’s unease grew. “You wish to talk of the pirate?”

“He is quite the man,” Gerald remarked, regarding her.