by Karen Harper
“Do not think,” he whispered in my ear, “that your punishment for forging my name on that admiralty document is over.”
“Punishment, my lord? You call my being at your beck and call in our bed punishment? In that case, I shall board and capture many more ships.”
“Hell’s gates, Irish, that’s exactly what worries me. At least Her Majesty was happy enough to have Frobisher locked up again and to be given his privateer for our fledgling navy. Thank heavens she’s a Tudor who prefers peace to war.”
“Her Grace is so besotted with Robert Dudley’s deceitful, seductive courting of her, she would be happy with anything. But she’s in for a fall, Edward; I know she is, and I’ve told her so.”
“You said she mentioned to you more than once she would never wed, but she needs the adoration from him.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then since she hearkens yet to you, best you not get in arguments with her—or me. Master Haverhill, come and cozy us up to the wharf!” he called out. “I’d best arm myself lest more wild Irish come on board and take me prisoner as this one has.”
“Aye, Admiral,” he said with a grin so wide it nearly split his face in half. “And aye-aye, Cap’n Lady Clinton.”
I ignored their chuckles and leaned on the rail to take in the view. Erin leaned against my legs, but I only patted her head, for she was too big for me to pick up anymore. Amidst the larger ships like ours, I watched the darting cockle boats and even fisherfolk in a little namhóag. I saw where the River Liffey poured in, fed by Kildare’s own River Lyreen that had been Magheen’s and my road to freedom the day we fled. Right up that stream was Uncle James’s Leixlip Castle. Amidst the rooftops of Dublin town, I spotted the hulking Kilmainham Castle, where Uncle Leonard had betrayed the Geraldines and I had first met Alice.
That very morn we oversaw the packing of the carts we’d hired, piled high with furnishings and foodstuffs for Maynooth Castle and the village. We took guards with us, since we carried a goodly amount of coin for rebuilding the castle and Fitzgerald power. At last, ahorse with the carts rumbling behind us until they fell farther and farther back, we set out for Kildare.
I was drunk with all I saw. Glimpses of golden dandelions and marsh marigold in the wet spring meadows so green—a thousand shades of Irish green. The familiar frogs I’d never heard the like of since I’d left croaked from ditches. Little leprechauns, Magheen used to call them. I could not wait to see her again, and Collum too.
Late that afternoon, as we neared the old Fitzgerald town of Maynooth, rebuilt from its burning, people came out upon the roads to greet us. A young colleen, about my age when I left, curtsied and extended to me a makeshift bouquet of shamrocks and bluebells, no doubt fresh-picked from the woodland floor. She was nervous in her little speech of welcome, but it was so good to hear the Irish brogue about me everywhere again. I dismounted and hugged her, walking my horse the last half mile—Edward did the like—smiling and waving at the greetings and cheers of those who lined our way as if I were the queen of England herself. Or better yet, an Irish princess.
Then someone began the chant, the very one I’d called out for my family on their way to execution, the very one I’d shouted on the day Gerald came back from Europe, the cry of my heart. For those few moments, as much as I loved and treasured my husband, I was not a Clinton but a Fitzgerald again.
“A Geraldine! A Geraldine! A Geraldine!” the people cried, as Erin barked in unison as if she knew the chant.
Through my smiles, I burst into tears, and Edward put his arm around me.
But where was the tall tower of Maynooth? As we walked arm in arm, I tried to catch a glimpse of it through the spring beech forest.
There it was! Tall and proud despite its wounds from cannonballs, sturdy and solid with Fitzgerald banners flapping from its parapets.
I handed Edward my bouquet, dropped my reins, and began to run. Erin loped along easily beside me, just as Wynne used to do. Margaret appeared from back in our entourage, laughing, barefooted like we once ran in the springs and summers of our youth before everything went so wrong. I kicked off both shoes and started up the lawn with her beside me.
She was signaling, House! Home! I seized her hand and stretched our strides, pulling her along. Near the castle entry, waving wildly, awaited Gerald and Mabel, Earl and Countess of Kildare, so regal-looking compared to us, but I could not contain myself. Ah, yes, tears glistened on Mabel’s cheeks too. Just behind them stood Collum and my Magheen, their wrinkled faces wreathed in smiles. Magheen lifted her skirt hems and did a few steps of a jig, which, I must admit, despite the glory of the day and this place, made me miss Elizabeth Tudor just a bit.
Like a silly child, I loosed Margaret’s hand and, raising my arms to the blue sky, twirled about once before hugging everyone. For one mad moment, in their arms, welcomed home, it was as if Mother and Father were here to greet me again with the young Irish couple who had served us so faithfully and so well. But there was my handsome husband, shaking hands, smiling, clapping Gerald on the shoulder, even though he still had my posies in his hand—and held my future happiness too, whatever the coming years would bring to Ireland.
“Welcome back! Welcome home, Gerabeth!” Gerald cried as he pulled me away a step or two, his arm around my shoulders as he lowered his voice. “I’m hoping you can write to the queen about several things. . .. I’m so glad you’re here, for I need your advice and help.”
“And you shall have it!” I told him, and hugged him hard.
That night they spoiled us with all my old favorites: soused herring, cockles from County Kerry, and prawns from Dublin Bay, braised woodcock, carrot pudding, and ale cake. The men drank themselves silly with usquebaugh, which the English called whiskey.
Edward was sleeping heavily in the early morn when I got up in my night rail and wrapped myself in his big robe to stare out the window at the dark lawn encircled by the silver ribbon of the Lyreen. I stood there until dawn, when my husband and all the world began to stir. The eastern sky went from lilac to rose to yellow sunlight on my face. In that golden moment, for perhaps the first time in my life, though I had much to do, I was at last, for now, content.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
First, a defense of the foundation for this novel: that the Fitzgeralds were considered the royal family of Ireland. Two of the many sources that present and defend this fact are these: Padraic O’Farrell writes in his A History of County Kildare (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan Ltd., 2003, p. 256), “From 1454 until 1534, the Fitzgeralds were the ‘uncrowned kings’ of Ireland.” In her book Ireland (Northampton, MA: Interlink Pub Group, Inc., 2006, p. 519), Catharina Day says much the same: “[The Fitzgerald Earls of Kildare, known as the Geraldines] were so powerful and wealthy that they were the uncrowned kings of Ireland.”
Most books on Irish history also claim that the slaughter of the Fitzgeralds began the split between medieval and modern Ireland. One of these is The Geraldines: An Experiment in Irish Government by Brian FitzGerald (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1986). (Interesting author last name; he no doubt had a special interest in his subject matter. And on that point, we can assume one reason President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was proud of his middle name. Even in America, there are many famous Fitzgerald descendants, from Ella Fitzgerald to F. Scott Fitzgerald.)
Other books of interest for more information on Elizabeth Gera Fitzgerald and her family can be found in these references: Gillian Kenny, Anglo-Irish and Gaelic Women in Ireland c.1170-1540 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2007); Mary Ann Lyons, Gearoid Og Fitzgerald (Historical Association of Ireland, Dundalk, Co. Louth, Ireland: Dundalgan Press, 1998); and William Nolan and Thomas McGrath (eds.), Kildare History and Society (Dublin: Geographic Publications, 2006).
The rest of Gera’s story, after this novel ends, would have made a thousand-page book had I pursued it all. Despite the novel’s happy ending, tough times lay ahead for the Fitzgeralds and Ireland. Gerald, 11th Earl of Kildare, struggled for the next thirty years to get back
to “the old days.” The Act of Attainder against the family was not lifted until 1569, because Ireland (as any person familiar with past or recent history knows) was not ready to bow to English rule. As late as 1574, Gerald, Earl of Kildare, was blamed for a scheme to raise armed men. The next year he was arrested and imprisoned in Dublin Castle and was eventually sent to the Tower of London for ten months. (Yes, Irish history repeats itself.)
The fact that he was released may be tied to Gera’s continual relationship with Queen Elizabeth, for historians agree that, unlike her father, this queen never sought the elimination of the house of Kildare. Some courtiers and councilors were furious at the queen’s temperate handling of the family, including the fact that, during Gerald’s stay in the Tower, his wife and sister had visitation rights and Mabel (who became increasingly pro-Irish) was allowed to go back to Kildare to see to their business affairs. In May of 1580, Gerald defiantly declared, “All you Englishmen are joined in one and an Irishman can have no right or justice at your hands.” Yet Queen Elizabeth had Gerald released from the Tower; he was spared a traitor’s death and simply banished from court. He died in London. And so, despite Gera’s dreams, there was no return to Geraldine rule in Ireland.
As for Gera’s and Edward Clinton’s lives after the book ends, they had a very successful thirty-three-year marriage. His will and other documents show how much he trusted and protected his wife. As well as serving as Elizabeth’s Lord High Admiral, Clinton often served the queen on diplomatic missions to France. Like the queen herself, the Lord High Admiral was heavily invested in privateering against England’s enemies and had a stake in Drake’s around-the-world voyage of 1577-1580. On May 4, 1572, Edward was created Earl of Lincoln, which made Gera Countess of Lincoln.
They both remained influential at Elizabeth’s court until their deaths. An early indication of Gera’s influence is that, in the days just before Elizabeth was declared queen, Gera was with her at rural Hatfield House and helped to broker a meeting between the soon-to-be queen and the Duke of Feria, a friend of King Philip of Spain. More than one source calls Gera a confidante of the queen. Years later, they continued to have their fallings-out, but seemed to patch things up quickly.
The Earl of Lincoln died in London on January 16, 1585, and, because he was a Garter Knight, had chosen to be buried in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, where his resting place is marked by a highly ornate monument of porphyry and alabaster that Gera had built for him. She died in March of 1589 at a good age for that time. Her sister Margaret was her chief mourner, and Gera was buried next to her beloved husband. Visitors to Windsor can, of course, view the plain floor stones over the resting place of King Henry VIII. (He never did get the elaborate tomb he wanted and had pilfered from Cardinal Wolsey; it is now in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral and honors Lord Admiral Nelson!) However, visitors to Windsor may see the effigies of the Earl and Countess of Lincoln at the southeast end of St. George’s Chapel, for they have by far a finer memorial than King Henry.
As ever, I must note that in Tudor-era research, dating events exactly can be a real problem, as their calendar could be confusing and writers obviously remembered things different ways. For examples of this, I found that in reading for this novel:• Gera’s birth dates vary, as does the order in which she and her siblings were born. According to The Dictionary of National Biography, her birthdate is uncertain. I have selected a date of 1523 from among the possible choices. It makes no sense to me that Surrey would have written his laudatory sonnet to Gera (either in 1537 or 1538—I saw both dates) when she was much younger than sixteen. Also, as noted in the story, extremely young girls did not become companions to royalty in Tudor courts.
• Gera wed Sir Anthony Browne in either 1542 or 1543.
• John Dudley was named Earl of Warwick in 1546 or 1547.
• The date of the Fitzgerald men’s executions at Tyburn was either February 1537 or July 1537.
When possible, I have tried to stick to historical records, but I did move one event. It was actually 1569 rather than 1559 when Gera captured Martin Frobisher’s pirate vessel. It was such a bold, feminist endeavor that I had to include it in this portrait of her. At that time it was recorded that she had “a remarkable business head, [and was] much occupied with Admiralty matters, especially wreck or pirates’ goods or Lord Admiral’s perquisites (what we today call perks) and was in high favor with the queen.” (Quote from The Expansion of Elizabethan England, A. L. Rowse [Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2003, p. 256])
Other random matters of Tudor trivia I found interesting:• King Henry VIII did not sign his will and did have secret back rooms at Whitehall and other palaces. A fascinating book on all this is Robert Hutchinson’s The Last Days of Henry VIII (New York: HarperCollins, 2005).
• For those who believe in ghosts—and what self-respecting castle in the British Isles doesn’t have a resident ghost?—Queen Catherine Howard is reputed to be “seen” yet today, running and screaming down the long gallery of Hampton Court Palace toward the Chapel Royal, begging King Henry not to have her arrested. Although I saw the site in broad daylight, the tour guide was most convincing, insisting that experts in the paranormal have recorded those very screams.
• From the time Gera’s half brother, “Silken Thomas,” was held in the Tower of London yet remain these letters he carved into a stone in his cell: THOMAS FITZ G.
• Maynooth Castle, eleven miles from Dublin, may be visited today in County Kildare, but it is much changed from Gera’s time. The keep and newer manor house are available to tour. At the time this book was printed, more about it online with pictures can be found at this Web site: http://www.heritageireland.ie/en/midlandseastcoast/MaynoothCastle/
My thanks to the following people who helped with background information for the novel:
• Catherine O’Connor at the Office of Public Works, Maynooth Castle, for her kind correspondence and suggestions for research. Although I have visited Ireland, I did not have the Fitzgeralds in mind for a book until after I left, so Ms. O’Connor helped a great deal.
• Joseph Templeman, clerk of the Sempringham Parish Council, for information on and a drawing of historic Sempringham. Of Kyme Castle, only its tower yet remains, and it looks much like what Maynooth’s must once have been.
• Kathy Lynn Emerson, who writes Tudor-era historicals as Kate Emerson. I appreciated her loan of a book about Gera’s brother Gerald, called Surviving the Tudors: The “Wizard” Earl of Kildare and English Rule in Ireland 1537-1586, by Vincent P. Carey (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2002), and enjoy her excellent Web site on Tudor-era women. See www.kateemersonhistoricals.com/TudorWomenF.htm
There are two extant portraits of Elizabeth Fitzgerald Clinton, Countess of Lincoln, although, some argue that the one painted more close-up might be Mabel Browne Fitzgerald. The more formal 1560 portrait is by Steven van der Meulen and can be viewed most easily at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Elizabeth_Fitzgerald.jpg and the one by an unknown artist at http://www.tudorplace.com.ar/Bios/ElizabethFitzgerald(CLincoln).htm
At least two portraits of Edward Clinton are extant, a youthful one drawn by Holbein, labeled Clinton, and one painted much later by an unknown artist—perhaps the same anonymous artist who painted the one of Gera. The best links to view these are found by Googling “Edward Fiennes Clinton + portrait.”
As ever, thanks to my husband, Don, for being such a patient traveling companion on our journeys around the British Isles. And for proofreading my manuscripts and acting as my business manager.
Karen Harper
November 2009
A former college instructor and high school English teacher, Karen Harper writes contemporary suspense as well as historical novels. Karen and her husband love to travel both in the United States and abroad and, when at home, divide their time between Columbus, Ohio, and Naples, Florida. For additional information, please visit www.KarenHarperAuthor.com.
A CONVERSATION WITH KAREN HARPER
; Q. What about Gera Fitzgerald especially interested you and made you want to write a whole book about her?
A. I can’t recall exactly where I first discovered Gera, but I believe it was in reading about women who served Queen Elizabeth I during her long reign. Gera stood out to me—Irish (unusual); rebel; red-haired, like the queen, but unlike the queen, a noted beauty. I knew Bess Tudor liked to be the most beautiful woman around. So why would she keep a striking woman like Gera with her over the years? Evidently, not just to keep an eye on someone suspicious, as the Tudors were wont to do. Gera was very intriguing, and as I researched her, I learned the tragedy of her family. I must also admit, I’m always looking for main characters who have a good love story of their own. I, like Gera, am a sucker for swashbuckling sea captains. Also, I had recently been to Ireland and thought the country was lovely; settings are important to me.
Q. You take the stance that the Fitzgeralds were considered the royal family of Ireland and suggest that their downfall marked a profound change in Ireland. What were some advances made under the Fitzgeralds, and how did they affect the lives of ordinary people? How did that change after the Fitzgeralds lost power?
A. As I detail in my Author’s Note at the end of the novel, historians pretty much agree that the “reign” of the Fitzgeralds marked the division between medieval and modern Ireland. The military and political strength of Gera’s family gave the warring factions of Ireland a period of peace during which villages, agriculture, and trade flourished, despite the deep divisions that remained between the “haves” and the “have-nots.” Gera’s father began the University of Maynooth in 1518 and managed to keep the English at bay from conquering Ireland earlier than they did. I wonder how long the Irish could have remained fairly independent of English rule, taxation, and interference if Gera’s half brother, Silken Thomas, had not blatantly provoked the English king.
