Plunder by Knight

by Mia Pride

  Another man with graying hair and a longer beard stepped away from the skiff and stood beside his papa. “Tomás, meet Sir Henry Sidney. He is a knight of the realm, as well as the Lord Protector of Ireland.” Tomás’s eyes grew wide at the man’s name. Everyone knew of Lord Protector Sidney. “He has agreed to travel back to England with us. You shall foster with his son, who is five years your senior. His son has been a page for several years and will soon be moving up to squire. His foster father has agreed to take you on as a page, as well. In seven years, you can be a squire, and in seven more years, you may become a knight.”

  “I… I can?” He was so confused and overwhelmed, yet all he heard made leaving not so very bad. Mayhap he could become a knight and a pirate… was it possible to be both? Could he be chivalrous like a knight and chase the famous Treasure of Danu, like a pirate? He had grown up hearing tales of this treasure, supposedly buried by his ancestors fifteen centuries ago, and never found. All he ever wanted was to seek the treasure that haunted his dreams on most nights. He would use the money to help the poor people of his land. And would not becoming a knight gain him the power to one day gain a crew, a ship, and follow his dreams? He was not certain, but it was better than staying here for years and watching the British attack his family. Mayhap he could use his knighthood to protect his family someday. Then, a thought crossed his mind that made him think twice about his dreams.

  “But, Papa, I am the grandson of the Pirate Queen. Will not the Queen of England hate me? Does not England hate the Irish? Will I be hated, as well?”

  “Nay.” His father tapped his nose gently and smiled. “You are half Irish. But you are half English, as well. ‘Tis not your fault your mama stole you away to live with pirates,” his father said with a scowl to his mama that put Tomás on edge.

  “My family takes care of me!” he protested. He wanted to protect his family from everyone’s malice.

  “Your Uncle Murrough hurts your mama. That is not how I wish you to be raised, around men who hurt women.”

  “Lawrence!” his mother shouted at his father, but he only ignored her burst of anger.

  “Uncle hurts you, Mama?” Tomás fisted his hands, ready to defend his mother. She did not answer, but she looked away silently, and suddenly Tomás remembered all the bruises on her face and cuts on her lip. How had he never wondered where they came from? “I will go to England to become a great knight. And when I am grown, I will avenge you, Mama.”

  His father, apparently named Lawrence, chuckled at his words and patted his shoulder. “That is the sort of bravery we look for in a knight. I knocked your Uncle around a few times myself, but once your mama left me, I could no longer protect her…” His words sounded hurt once more and Tomás felt that more emotion lay between his parents than he may ever know. His mother’s continued silence spoke louder than any words.

  “Are you ready to go lad?” Henry Sidney cuffed him hard on the back, causing him to take a step forward. Was he ready? How could he be ready to leave his mama and grandmama? Yet, he would never achieve his new dream of becoming a pirate-knight and defending his mama and finding the ancient Treasure of Danu if he refused to go.

  “Aye, I shall go, but only so I can become a knight. One day, I will return, Mama.”

  His mother sobbed loudly and wrapped him against her most painfully, but he did not struggle. He would memorize the soft feel of her body and her familiar sweet scent.

  “All right. ‘Tis quite enough doting on the lad, Maeve. Your softness does not serve him well. Come.” His father nudged him toward the skiff, giving him no time to speak to his mama or hug her one last time.

  Tossing him into the skiff, the third man silently nodded at him, giving him a toothless smile. This man wore ragged dark breeches and a loose tunic. This was a true seaman. His father sat next to him and grabbed the other oar. “Your true surname is Esmonde, lad. You are not Tomás O’Malley. You are Thomas Esmonde and will do well to remember that when we arrive in England, for nobody will be friendly to an O’Malley. And when we arrive on the ship, you shall change into a new pair of hose, a clean tunic, and a new leather jerkin with fresh leather boots. No son of mine shall wear rags. ‘Tis a shame you have lived this way for so long. Had I known, I would have sought you out much sooner.”

  His father’s voice sounded sad and Tomás wanted to argue with him and defend his mother, but he decided to stay silent as the skiff rowed them slowly toward the galley ready to take him away to his new life in a new country. The only reason he did not burst into tears and scream for his mama was because he knew knights were brave and pirates, even braver. And if he meant to be both one day, he needed to toughen up now and learn that emotions would only make him appear weak. He was, and always would be Tomás O’Malley, grandson of a Pirate Queen and descendent of the legendary Sisters of Danu… future knight, future pirate, and future owner of the Treasure of Danu. Weakness was not in his blood.

  Chapter One

  England - March 1596

  “Devil’s bollocks!” The sun blasted Thomas in his face as he slowly opened his eyes. The sun streaming through the long window in his lover’s husband’s chamber made him sit up abruptly, taking the wool cover with him. “I have slept in,” he groused, hopping out of the bed and searching the small chamber for his strewn garments.

  “Do not worry about my husband,” Frances yawned, her naked body gleaming in the morning sunlight. “No doubt Robert is well ensconced in his mistress’s arms at this very moment,” she said without concern. “It has been almost seven years since the man shared my bed, as you well know. He prefers the company of his mistress and their son, which is all well and good with me.”

  Pulling his breeches over his legs, he grabbed his shirt, stockings, and doublet off the floor before running a flustered hand through his dark, disheveled hair. It was not her husband he was concerned about. It was the fact that he was late for training. All his men would be gathered on the field by now, swords clashing and sweat dripping, while he lay about like a fool in a married woman’s bed.

  Looking over his shoulder, he took in Frances’s naked form from head to toe. She had once been the wife of his foster-brother, Sir Philip Sidney, before he had been killed in battle a decade before. That tragedy was only a few months after the death of his father, Thomas’s foster-father, Henry. The memory still burned, all these years later. Frances and Philip had been quite the love match and his death tore them both apart, while somehow, at the same time, pushing Frances and Thomas together physically.

  Aye, and though she remarried as noble women must, she and Thomas continued their coupling, fueled only by a mutual need to slake their lust. She had children now with her current husband, though he rarely returned to this chamber, making it easy enough for Thomas to take his place. In truth, her bed was far more comfortable than sharing the floor of the great hall with all his fellow knights. As a lady in waiting to the queen, Frances was meant to spend many of her nights on a straw pallet on the floor of the queen’s bedchamber. However, being married to one of the queen’s favorites had allowed Frances some flexibility in sleeping arrangements, and her husband had a solid wood four-poster bedframe with a feather mattress and bolsters. Aye, sneaking into her bed served him well. His lust was slaked and he slept like a babe… mayhap too well.

  Still, it was risky to be lying with a married woman. He suddenly could not remember why, aside from their mutual grief, they had continued to risk their reputations and perhaps even their lives when there were many more willing unwed courtiers to bed. He cared very much for Frances as an old friend and had, therefore, been putting off the conversation he knew he must have with her, but he also knew this had to be their last dalliance.

  “Frances,” he sighed as he searched for his leather shoe amongst her strewn petticoats, corset, chemise, sleeves, hose… and God knew what else a woman needed to tuck herself in tight these days. Whatever happened to basic linen gowns such as his mama used to wear back in Ireland? “I care fo
r ye very much—”

  “But you cannot do this anymore,” she cut him off with a sigh. “Robert never calls on me and I am miserable in my marriage. But we have been careless all these years, have we not?”

  “Careless? Nay. I think we have been quite careful, to tell the truth. Nobody yet suspects us and we never created a bastard. But it is a risk we should no longer take.” Thomas paused and thought about his situation, feeling his ire rise as he considered his impossible position here at court. “I have had to work hard for the Queen’s favor. Being an Irish-born English knight has not been ideal. Being an O’Malley by birth has not made it any easier, what with the wars in Ireland, and the arrests and deaths of my family at the hands of the English! After all these years, I still have a cursed Irish accent that makes people glower at me, wondering if I’m the enemy! One wrong step and I am done for!” He groused.

  “I fought beside Drake during the invasion of the Spanish Armada! My foster-father was the brother-in-law to her favorite courtier, Robert Dudley! I was raised in her graces, but she knows who I truly am. She is suspicious of all around her and I cannot lose that favor.” He shook his head again. Bedding an Earl’s wife was not a smart decision, but he had been young and brash when the affair began. Now, at the age of thirty, he knew better. He was a knight who was supposed to follow a code of honor and chivalry. Yet, his dark side, the side influenced by pirate lore and the need for adventure, often pulled his interests in another direction. Wenching came easily enough to him. Though now that he was a grown man, he understood who his family truly was and why he had to remain in his queen’s good graces. He needed to prove he was not just one more problem in her way.

  “I understand, Thomas.” Frances stood from the bed, her large, beautiful breasts and curvy hips filling his view. She had borne five children and her woman’s body called to him in a way that no virginal young lassies ever could. She had lines on her hips and stomach, evidence of bearing children, yet he only found them more beautiful. She was truly a lovely and loving woman, and they had shared a wonderful bond, but he did not love her and could not be with her any longer. She deserved more from life than he could offer.

  Frances stepped up to him and his gaze moved from her pink nipples to her red lips… lips that had been wrapped around his cock just the night before. Aye, he would miss those lips. Her dark brown eyes, surprisingly, seemed to smile at him and she put a hand on his shoulder. “Go. You are late for training. Your squire must be half out of his mind searching for you by now.”

  Thomas chuckled as he imagined Charles, his fifteen-year-old squire, carrying his armor around the palace in desperation, trying to find him. “Aye, I must go. You are all right, Frances?” He put his hand on her hip, resisting his body’s pull to hers.

  “I will be. Promise me something, Thomas. Take care of yourself. Find happiness with a woman if ever you can. Married lovers and dalliances with widows can only last so long.”

  Her sincerity was moving. He would miss her company. They had known each other too long to ever truly part as less than friends. He wanted to tell her that he would never marry, could never marry. He was a landless knight and held no title. He traveled for the queen and was almost never in one place for long. He fought battles and preferred life on the water to a life on land. The scars on his body gave evidence to the scars on his soul, a testament to the deaths he had wrought and the enemies who tried to bring about his demise. He was not the sort of man who made a good marriage prospect. Giving her a soft kiss on the forehead, he smiled and lied. “I will consider your words, Frances. Now, I really must go.”

  He was fully dressed in his finery from the night before. If that was not a clear sign that he had found his way into a willing woman’s bed, nothing else was. He would not care on most days if it had only been dawn but walking through the palace at this time of day in his finery would shame him. He was a cursed knight! Not some fancy courtier who could drink and whore all night, sleeping off the effects all morning. Never in his life had he slept in or missed training. He considered feigning illness if only to protect his reputation, but that would be a strike against his honor. Nay, he needed to find his squire, get into his armor, and take whatever ribbing should come his way.

  Just as he made his way into the great hall, he found his squire, sweating and darting his eyes around frantically, clearly worried that he had somehow failed to follow his master’s orders. Indeed, this was their first night staying at the queen’s favorite castle and his squire could have easily become lost, but nay, it was not his fault. Frances always traveled with the Queen, while Thomas traveled where he was commanded. So, on the rare occasions they ended up at court together, he sought out her bed, which of course his young squire need not know.

  “Charles. Ye look as if ye are afraid for yer life, lad.”

  Charles stumbled at Thomas’s booming voice, dropping a gauntlet onto the tile floor. The great hall was empty aside from some servants bustling in and out of the room, preparing for the nooning meal. “I… I… I am sorry my lord. I could not find you. I looked all over, even the stables. I will accept any punishment you see fit Sir, for causing us to be late for training.”

  Thomas looked down at his sweaty squire, long blond hair matted to his back. “Alas, it is my fault this time, Charles. Believe it or not, I slept overlong. Let us get prepared for training before it is time to break for a meal, aye?”

  Relief filled the young man’s eyes as he nodded, and Thomas wondered if he was really all that frightening. He was quite tall and full of muscles, aye, but many of the men were. Was it his overly loud voice? His natural confidence? Perhaps the fact that he was Irish? He could not know, but as hard as he worked his squire, he had never given the lad cause to fear him.

  “Right. Let us be off then.”

  * * *

  It was still early spring, and it seemed as though the nights were longer than the days. Court life bustled as lords and ladies filled the great hall, all wearing their finest silks and velvets with sleeves so puffy it looked like the room was filled with shiny, colorful clouds. Thomas chuckled at that thought. They were a pampered, shiny fog. He had only spent seven years of his life in Ireland, but he much preferred their simple garb. He would defy societal expectations and wear what he preferred, but due to the Queen’s code, every class must dress their part. Alas, he found himself in blue velvet breeches, a matching doublet, white wool stockings, and a shirt with a slightly ruffled collar, though he absolutely refused to wear the large sleeves.

  Sipping on his mead, he observed the wealthiest people in England. They stank of body odor, despite their attempts not to. Resentment was a lifelong companion and though he was loyal to his queen, he found it harder and harder as the years passed to forget how the English misused his own people. Even now, as war raged on his homeland, a few chieftains in the north, mainly Hugh O’Neill, attempted to fight off the English who constantly threatened to take the land. The English fought in the name of their queen, he knew. He also understood that the queen only meant to give them order and support the land, but it was a power struggle nonetheless, and one his people were fighting unto the death.

  Thousands of years of Irish blood ran through his veins and it was hard not to bristle at the situation he had been thrust into at such a young age. Aye, he had been given the chance to grow up in a wealthy household, become a part of the queen’s court, and above all, become a knight. He had earned that honor with every battle and every scar on his body. Yet, every year more news came from Ireland that the English-appointed Governor of Connaught, Richard Bingham, continued to use force against the people. Bingham considered the O’Malleys personal enemies and made it his life’s goal to take down Grace O’Malley, Irish Pirate Queen and Thomas’s beloved grandmother.

  It had only been a few years before that word had reached Thomas about Bingham’s worst offense of all. The man had tricked Thomas’s kind Uncle Owen, who only ever wanted peace, into believing he wished for a truce. Owen opened
his home to Richard Bingham who, in turn, double-crossed him, tied him up, and stabbed him to death while he was defenseless. Then the man arrested his grandmother and kept her locked up for over a year. Just recently, his other uncle had been held captive and Thomas had heard that his grandmother sailed all the way to England to beseech the Queen to release her son. Thomas hadn’t had an opportunity to see or speak to his grandmama and had no idea what was said between the two women, but the Queen of England released the Pirate Queen’s son in a sort of truce. However, things had only darkened for Thomas here at court as more and more battles raged between his family and the Crown. Lately, he found his loyalties tugging him back home, though that was impossible. He was bound to his queen’s will and had vowed to always be loyal. As a knight of the realm, his might must fight for England, even if his heart called to Ireland.

  He wondered about his grandmother. Aye, she was a pirate. She plundered the cargo of her enemies, killed if necessary, and commanded an entire fleet of ships. Yet, she used her riches to feed her people. She was a leader and renowned in several countries. In a way, he envied her. Not for her power or fame, but because she lived life on her own terms, felt the freedom of the wind blowing through her hair.

  The O’Malleys were a seafaring family and had been for centuries. The sea called to Thomas, even in his dreams. His time aboard ship during the invasion of the Spanish Armada, though fighting a battle, had been the best of his life. He found it harder and harder to deny his ancient roots or the promise of a treasure still awaiting him. Every year, he listened for talk of a new treasure being found, wondering if another man would one day find it before he did. It was his family’s legacy and he would be damned if he allowed another man to claim it first… and yet he was here, at court, surrounded by colorful-sleeved clouds.