X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  And, quite suddenly, she was thrilled at the notion that she was part of it.

  If only Fiona could see her now.

  Fiona.

  Oh, how she would have loved to be a part of this. She would have reveled in the plotting and planning of such adventures. Together, they would have enjoyed all of the subterfuge and innuendo.

  Quinn really missed her. The older Gallagher got, the more she looked like her mother, so Fiona would never really be gone or forgotten.

  Not that she would ever forget Fiona. Quinn had always thought that Fiona was the right love at the wrong time. She’d had a couple of those.

  Maybe all love was right and so far, it had all been the wrong time.

  Until now.

  Now, for the first time in a long time, Quinn felt like her life had purpose. Real purpose. What she was getting ready to do would matter. She was possibly actually making history.

  And she loved the idea of that.

  She loved it all.

  The day she set foot on Grace’s ship was the first day of her life. Everything changed for her then. Everything.

  And now, here she was, on assignment from Catherine d’Medici, one of the most powerful women on the planet, to assist the most powerful woman in Europe.

  It just didn’t get any better than—

  Suddenly, she drew her horse up when she saw a line of men standing in the middle of the road.

  Sliding off the horse, Quinn’s eyes scanned the line looking for the weakest link. It was the second to the left, so she adjusted her gait in that direction.

  “I strongly advise you fellows to get out of my way,” she said forcefully in English.

  The men exchanged glances before laughing.

  “Oh do you, now?” said the fat one in the middle. “Well, we strongly advise you get on yer back and spread yer legs you haughty bitch.”

  “You know, calling me a bitch is one thing, but calling me haughty? Well now, that’s just unnecessary.” Quinn hiked up her dress.

  The group hooted and hollered. By the time they realized she wasn’t complying, it was too late.

  The first two daggers she threw landed in the throat of one and the belly of another. They both dropped to the ground, blood spurting from their wounds.

  The third missed the fat leader, who withdrew his sword.

  The fourth knife went right to the chest of the man nearest the weakest link, who turned to see his companion drop to his knees.

  In that brief moment when he turned, Quinn took seven long strides, sliding in front of him and sweeping his legs out from under him. When he went down, she punched him in the throat, grabbed his sword, and plunged it through his heart.

  “What… what are you?” The fat and now lone thug asked, sword out and fighting stance taken.

  Quinn rose, the sword in both hands in front of her. “I’m a very angry woman with blood on my dress.” She stepped away from the dead men to have greater mobility. “I don’t want to have to kill you, but I will do so if you do not run away right now.”

  “Run from a mere woman?”

  Quinn shot a glance to the dead men. “I doubt a ‘mere’ woman could have done all this, do you?”

  “I shall delight in killing you and then fucking your dead body.”

  Quinn made a face. “Then I take back my earlier statement. I do want to kill you. Quite badly, as a matter of fact.” Quinn had zero doubt she could and would kill him. He was fat, slow, and even after what he had seen, he still underestimated her. “So come at me sir, so if I am accused of this slaughter, I can claim self-defense.”

  “Whatever you are is an abomination, and the world will indeed be better without he likes of you.” He came at Quinn with such a wide, loopy, and errant swing, the fight was over before it began as she ran him through, her sword going completely through his bellow and out his back.

  When she shoved him off her sword and to the ground, Quinn stood over him as blood dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. “What I am, you grotesque piece of English shite, is an Irish pirate of the O’Malley Clan, a captain of a pirate ship, and the deliverer of your death.” With that, Quinn stabbed him in the heart.

  She spent the next half-hour dragging their corpses into the ravine near the road, where she disrobed and almost gleefully put on the clothes of the man nearest her size. Fortunately for her, it was the man who died of the neck wound, so there was little blood to contend with. Then, she examined all of their poorly made swords and took the best for herself. Their coin purses, while not full, had enough to get her food and drink should she choose to stop and rest her horse which grazed languidly along the side of the road.

  “There,” Quinn said, sheathing the sword before wrinkling her nose. “My god they stunk,” she muttered, smelling her armpits. “And they call us barbaric?” Stuffing her dress under the saddle, she wiped the muck off.

  After mounting her horse, Quinn rose unbothered and unmolested for the remainder of her ride.

  When she arrived in London, she paid a stable hand at a small cottage to care for her horse. On foot, she walked briskly through the streets of London marveling at its filth and drabness. It was the antithesis of Tangiers or Istanbul. Gray, dark, and unappealing, she wondered how these sad-faced people were subjects of one of the greatest monarchs alive.

  When she finally made it to the palace it was almost dark, so Quinn found an alley to sleep in for the night. It would never do to allow the many eyes and ears of the queen to know a stranger was nearby.

  Tired from riding, hungry, and sleep deprived, Quinn fell fast asleep.

  “One does not merely show up, m’lady, and request a meeting with the Queen.”

  Quinn stood in front of the guard in her dress looking very much like the noblewoman she once was.

  “I assure you, dear sir, that your head will roll if you do not let Her Majesty know who it is requesting an audience.”

  The guard, a man with a flat nose and horrific underbite, frowned.

  “I shall wait while you ask. In the meantime, what is your name so I can let the Queen know of your lack of hospitality.”

  He considered this before turning. “Wait here,” he growled before lumbering off.

  Quinn could only hope Queen Elizabeth recognized her. It had been a while since the queen entertained Grace and Quinn, and even then, Elizabeth had been so enamored of Grace she barely noticed anyone else.

  Funny thing was, Quinn was far more nervous now than she’d been that first time when she had come as an enemy of the court. Maybe Elizabeth would refuse to see her and just toss her in the tower. While Quinn’s language ability did not extend to the eleven or twelve languages Elizabeth spoke, her Welsh was certainly one of her stronger languages, as the queen would clearly recognize gwindu as Welsh for black wine.

  Half an hour later, the guard returned. “She says she will see you in the garden. Follow me.”

  Heaving a loud sigh, Quinn followed the lumbering troll of a man to a bench that overlooked one of the most beautiful rose gardens she had ever seen.

  “Wait here.”

  Folding her hands in her lap, Quinn waited.

  She did not have to wait long.

  When Elizabeth regally strode over to Quinn, she tilted her head as if trying to recall where they’d met.

  Quinn jumped to her feet and started to bow when she realized, almost too late, that a curtsey was in order.

  “Lady Gwindu, how lovely it is to see you… again. Come Let us walk these beautiful grounds.”

  As Quinn rose, she was eye to eye with the 5’10” queen with the red wig, white face, and piercing blue eyes. It was said Elizabeth could see right through a person, and at this moment, Quinn felt utterly naked in front of her.

  As they walked, the queen would stop to smell a rose. This was when she would speak.

  “Does Grace O’Malley know you are here?”

  Quinn blinked. Then stared.

  Elizabeth pulled away from the rose and smiled. �
�I never forget a face. Even one which came dressed as a male pirate.” The queen bent the rose to Quinn’s face.

  Quinn smelled the rose and answered. “I am captain of my own ship now, your majesty. I no longer answer to Captain O’Malley.”

  “Ah. Then it all comes clear to me now why you were chosen. Your ship?”

  “Left me at Shell Haven.” Quinn pulled away and looked at Elizabeth. “So as to not bring suspicion.”

  “Very well done Captain—”

  “Callaghan, your highness.”

  As they walked, Elizabeth would point to this rose and that, chatting as if they were old friends.

  “There are eyes and ears everywhere, so we shall give a ruse until we reach the next bench, where no one can hear us.”

  Nodding, Quinn followed, smelled, asked her questions about each rose, until at last, they reached the bench.

  It was in a clearing with nothing else around. Quinn could see the palace, but there was nothing anyone could hide behind to eavesdrop.

  “Hiding in plain sight,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “Something I daresay you know something about.”

  Quinn waited for Elizabeth to sit before sitting herself. Elizabeth wore a stunning emerald green dress with a matching necklace. “How is the fierce warrior Queen O’Malley?”

  “Quite well, your majesty.”

  “I do hope you parted amicably.”

  “Oh quite. She was my mentor, friend, and chieftain.”

  “Then why leave her?”

  Quinn looked down at her hands. “I believed I had a greater purpose than to plunder and pillage my life away.”

  Elizabeth shocked her by throwing her head back and laughing heartily – something Quinn had seen her do with Grace. “And here you are. It would seem you have a crystal ball.”

  “Nothing quite so magical, I’m afraid. The world, as you know, is changing. I wish to change with it.” Quinn fought with the bodice of her dress a moment.

  “I imagine you’d like to change out of that dress.”

  Quinn grinned. “It has been a long time since I wore one. I have almost forgotten how uncomfortable they are.”

  “Almost. Indeed. Will you please send my kindest regards to Captain O’Malley when you see her? We so wanted to bring her in, but she has made it quite clear she will die for Ireland’s freedom and we need one who shares our vision.”

  “That fight is a lost cause, your majesty. You will, one day, bring Ireland into your family.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I will, though, if it were up to me, I would prefer to leave well enough alone.”

  This surprised Quinn, and Elizabeth recognized it.

  “I do not know how much of the world’s politics you understand, but much of what transpires is not always my decision. Ruling my subjects well is all that matters to me – annexing other countries is all that matters to my council.”

  For the first time in her life, Quinn found herself actually liking the woman she once referred to as The Bitch Queen.

  “Tell me about yourself, Callaghan. How did an Irish noblewoman become a pirate who ended up in the group?”

  Quinn carefully told the story of Shea’s abduction and how she ended up on Grace’s ship. She omitted anything she felt gave Elizabeth too much information and said nothing about her attempt to save Mary of Scotland.

  Liking her was one thing. Trusting her was something entirely different.

  “So Cathereine sent you. I have met her and found her to be quite a force.”

  “I would concur.”

  “Poor thing. She had to suffer the indignities of her husband’s mistress, but she did so with such grace and aplomb. I refused to allow any man to have that sort of power over me. To be great, one need only study those who are and learn from their mistakes.” Elizabeth fully faced Quinn. “Is she well?”

  “From what I could see, she is very well, and working very hard to keep the power she has.”

  “Yes, the Catholic rulers have found themselves in quite a state now that the Protestants are gaining numbers. She will have her hands full to be sure.”

  Quinn wanted to say, “Won’t you all,” but decided against it.

  “Catherine has one of the keenest minds alive. It is a shame she could not be an independent monarch. She would truly have made a fine leader in her own right.”

  Quinn had not anticipated such praise from the Protestant monarch. It had never ceased to amaze her that England was a Catholic country ruled by a Protestant monarch, and Scotland was a Protestant country ruled by a Catholic one.

  Couldn’t they have just traded them?

  “Catherine has been watching Grace O’Malley for years. When Sayyida al Hurra mentioned you as a potential member, Catherine was already aware of you.”

  “I am… flattered.”

  “And well you should be. Cathereine D’Medici pays handsomely for information. Now, what information do you have for me?”

  “Someone in your employ has been paid by Spain to kill you. Catherine does not believe it is anyone in your cabinet or counsel, however.”

  “I see. The Spanish are quite angry over the loss of over one hundred galleons. I believe they thought they could overpower us by sheer strength of numbers. It was not to be.”

  “I understand you gave quite a speech at Tillsbury.”

  Queen Elizabeth smiled softly. “I lead my people as I ought to have.”

  “Would you… I would love to hear it.”

  “Truly?”

  Quinn nodded. “Very well then.” The Queen cleared her throat. “My loving people, we have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear. I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already, for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns; and We do assure you in the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime, my lieutenant general shall be in my stead, whom prince never commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people.”

  When she finished, Quinn understood why and how they defeated the Spanish Armada and why her people were so loyal to her. “That is… I have no words.”

  “You are too kind. It is a leader’s prerogative to lead well. Now, you were saying that I have a potential murderer in my midst. This is nothing new. Why does this one alarm Catherine so? There have been countless plots against me, even more since Pope Pius excommunicated me from the church.” Shaking her head, she rose and took a few steps away, speaking to Quinn with her back to her. “He and his ill-fated Papal Bull forced me to pass laws and sanctions against Catholics even though I had never intended on doing so.”

  “He forced your hand. For what purpose?”

  “What else? Those accursed Catholics sucking at the teat of the papal masters would create a world where only Catholicism exists. The church was behind several other plots knowing they could blame it on Mary of Scotland, but I was not fooled.”

  The Babington Plot.

  It had been Mary�
�s undoing, and what had ultimately lead to her beheading.

  There were dozens of questions Quinn had for her about Mary, but Quinn knew this was not the time or the place, so she remained silent.

  “Mary was an easy scapegoat for the Church. Had she stayed to herself, she might still be alive, but she stood still while the Pope and his Church placed a target on her.” Elizabeth turned to her. “So now the Church has resumed with their murderous intentions.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Catherine have any clues as to where I ought to look?”

  Quinn shook her head. “She only said it was someone close to you. Not an outsider, and no one obvious.”

  “I see. Catherine would not have sent you unless the threat was imminent. It is not her way. Was there anything else?”

  Quinn shook her head. Catherine had made her repeat the message over and over until there was no doubt Quinn would remember it. “But she did give this to me to give to you.” Reaching into her bodice, Quinn removed a laced handkerchief and handed it, folded up, to the queen.

  “Catherine D’medici will, no doubt, go down in history as something she is not… as will I, I am certain. But two things no one can take away from her is her generosity and needlework.” Elizabeth tucked the handkerchief up her sleeve as she had done when she handed Grace one when they’d met. “Well met, Callaghan, and thank you for your service to the group.”

  Quinn rose. “In my land, women still matter. When clans fought against each other, women warriors were just as fierce and just as deadly as our male counterparts. Before your religion came along, women held power—as priestesses, as leaders, as people who mattered. Your god and his followers changed all of that. I am here because I believe we deserve more… better. And if we do not do something to reverse the tide, women will become as subservient to men as the slaves they now collect.”

  Elizabeth stared at Quinn for a long time. “It would appear we have made a grave mistake with you, Captain.”

  Quinn silently cursed herself for overstepping her bounds.

  “It would appear your talents would be wasted as a mere messenger. You speak eloquently and with precision… something few of my inner circle seem capable of.”