up, then so be it. But I will not. I'll never give up." She opened her
cloak and slipped a bundle through the narrow bars of his cell. "We've
brought you warm blankets, and food, and ointment for your wounds.
And tomorrow we'll go to the queen. We'll beg, we'll plead, we'll do
whatever we must. But we won't stop until you're free of this place
and safely home in Ballinarin." She wiped at the tears with the back
of her hand. "I love you, Rory O'Neil. And even if you've stopped
believing, I never will. Nor will I stop fighting for you. With my last
breath I'll fight for you."
At her impassioned words he staggered across the cell and touched a
finger to her face. "Oh my darling AnnaClaire. My fierce little angel.
Of course I'll fight. Until there's no life left in me, I'll fight to be free.
But I can't bear that you see me like this, in this place."
She lifted a hand to his bruised, bloody face. "Conor tried to keep me
away. But I had to come, Rory."
They stared hungrily at each other for long silent moments.
At last Rory turned to Conor, and the two brothers clasped hands
through the bars.
"Ye' must leave," came the whispered warning of the jailer. "Soldiers
are coming. If ye're found here, we'll all lose our lives."
"Come. Quickly." Conor placed an arm beneath AnnaClaire's elbow,
forcing her away from Rory's cell.
Without' another word, they followed the jailer through the maze of
darkened hallways until they were once more breathing the air of
freedom.
As their carriage bore them back to the townhouse, neither of them
spoke a word. But their thoughts were as dark, as bleak as the cell in
which Rory lay bleeding.
' Your father is home from Court, my lady. He anxiously awaits you
in the library."
"Thank you, Wilona." AnnaClaire had washed and changed her
clothes since her return from prison, and had eaten a cold supper with
Conor.
She turned to him with a weary sigh. "It's best if I see him alone."
He nodded and followed the maid up the stairs to the guest chambers.
AnnaClaire made her way to the library, where she found her father
standing at the window, staring into the darkness.
"Father. Oh, I've missed you so."
At the sound of her voice Lord James Thompson turned. "Can it be?
Oh, my dear AnnaClaire. How I've worried about you."
She rushed to his arms and was caught in a warm embrace.
For the longest time, he couldn't seem to let go of her as he kissed her
hair, her cheeks, her temple, all the while murmuring words of love.
At last he held her a little away.
He narrowed his eyes and took the time to study her. "You
look...different. I believe you've lost weight." His brows drew
together. "Have you been ill? Have the O'Neils treated you
unkindly?"
"Oh, nay." Her brows shot up. "You received my missive then?"
"Aye, AnnaClaire. And another, earlier one from the one they call the
Blackhearted O'Neil. He wanted to assure me on his honor as a
gentleman that you were safe and well. But, knowing his reputation
as a rogue and outlaw, and hearing the way Dunstan and Lord Davis
have spoken of him, I couldn't stop fearing the worst. Now, you will
tell me everything, AnnaClaire."
He led her toward a chaise. As he sat, he clasped her hands. "Wilona
has said you did not come alone."
"I've brought...friends with me."
"Are these friends from Dublin?"
"Nay. Their home is far from Dublin. But..." She released his hands
and began to pace in front of the fireplace. "Oh, how can I tell you all
that has happened since you left Dublin?"
Seeing her agitation, he folded his hands and regarded her carefully.
"Perhaps you should begin at the beginning."
AnnaClaire made her way to her chambers. The house at this hour
was silent. Outside, the midnight sky was ablaze with starlight. But
her thoughts weren't on the stars, or sleep, though she'd put in an
exhausting day.
Her father had been so silent, so thoughtful throughout her narrative.
So unlike the O'Neil. She had anticipated his calm, cool reaction. He
was, after all, a man who had long ago accepted the fact that his
daughter had a mind of her own. But she could see also that his
feelings were raw and wounded. And all because of her carelessness.
' 'Did you not stop and think about the consequences of your actions?'
he had asked.
"Nay, Father."
"And even now, you continue to rush to judgment. You bring the
O'Neil's family into my very home. And you dare to ask for an
audience with the queen." He had looked at her with sad, tired eyes.
She paused outside Conor's door and was still twisting her hands
together when the door suddenly opened.
"Conor. I didn't even knock yet."
"I know, my lady. I've been pacing, and waiting, and listening." He
ushered her inside and quickly closed the door.
Across the room Innis slept so soundly, he didn't even stir.
"You told your father?" She nodded. "Everything."
"How did he react?"
She shrugged. "As I'd expected. My actions have aused him much
pain. He fears he has raised a fool :6r a daughter."
Conor winced, recalling his own father's fury. "That's it, then. I'll find
lodging in London on the morrow. And then I'll begin calling in
favors from everyone my family has ever known. Sooner or later
someone will show me the way to petition the queen for an audience."
"Someone already has." She caught his hands, squeezed. And, despite
her exhaustion, her smile was radiant. "Though my father is hurt and
angry, he is still my father. It took a great deal of convincing, but he
has agreed to take us with him on the morrow."
"Take us with him?"
"To Court, Conor." She kissed his cheek. "To see the queen." false
bravado could hide. "All one can do now is pray."
"Then I shall pray, my lady. For you. For the O'Neil family. And for
the queen, that she will regard your petition with kindness. Good
night, my lady."
When she was alone, AnnaClaire felt hot tears well up and spill down
her cheeks. After what she had been through, she had thought she was
beyond crying. But the truth was, she was terrified of what was to
come on the morrow. Elizabeth, the willful fierce young monarch
said to be as unyielding as her father, held the fate of Rory, his family,
and his beloved country in her hands.
"Oh, my lady." As soon as AnnaClaire entered her sleeping chamber,
the little maid rushed to her side to assist her. "I was afraid you
wouldn't get to sleep at all this night."
"Sleep doesn't matter, Velia. Nothing matters now except getting
Rory out of that filthy prison."
"You saw him then?"
"Aye." AnnaClaire struggled to put aside the memory. "I must be up
at dawn, Velia."
"At dawn? But why so early, my lady?"
"Conor and I must go over our plans once more, before we leave for
Greenwich Castle."
"Greenwich?" The little maid clapped a hand to her mo
uth. "You will
see the queen?"
"Aye." AnnaClaire climbed beneath the covers and watched as Velia
blew out the candle.
In the darkness Velia whispered, "How does one prepare for such a
momentous event, my lady?"
AnnaClaire felt the knot of fear that no amount of false bravado could
hide. "All one can do now is pray."
"Then I shall pray, my lady. For you. For the O'Neil family. And for
the queen, that she will regard your petition with kindness. Good
night, my lady."
When she was alone, AnnaClaire felt hot tears well up and spill down
her cheeks. After what she had been through, she had thought she was
beyond crying. But the truth was, she was terrified of what was to
come on the morrow. Elizabeth, the willful fierce young monarch
said to be as unyielding as her father, held the fate of Rory, his family,
and his beloved country in her hands.
Chapter Nineteen
' There is Greenwich Castle." AnnaClaire watched the reaction of
Conor and Innis as their carriage started up the long curving drive.
The queen's standard flew from the turret, announcing that the
monarch was in residence. If that were not enough, the long columns
of soldiers standing guard along the perimeter made their own
statement.
"Why does the queen require so many soldiers?" Innis asked. His
voice, AnnaClaire noted, was not quite steady. But to his credit, he
had insisted upon coming with them. AnnaClaire realized that he had
appointed himself her protector.
"They are members of the queen's own guard. It is their job to defend
her at all times, against all danger."
Lord Thompson glanced at the handsome young man seated next to
his daughter. Though they had exchanged less than a dozen words, he
had already discovered, much to his surprise, that Conor O'Neil was
educated and well-spoken. "Have you thought of what you will say to
the queen?"
"Aye."
When he offered nothing more, James changed the subject. In an
aside he whispered to his daughter, "Do you think it wise to bring the
lad?"
"Conor and I could see no way of refusing. If we'd ordered him to
remain behind, he'd have simply found a way to defy us and would
have turned up at Court anyway. At least this way, we'll know what
he's up to. Otherwise, we feared we might find him joining Rory in
Fleet."
"Is that how the Irish are raising their young?"
"It isn't just an Irish flaw." She looked at her father. "Last night you
called me defiant. And foolish."
He smiled and caught her hand. ' Aye. You are both, I fear. Traits you
inherited from your defiant, foolish parents."
She flushed with pleasure, and was even more surprised when he
lifted her hand to his lips. "Have I told you that I'm proud of you, my
dear?"
She felt both surprise and happiness at his words. Before she could
respond, the carriage came to a halt and a footman hurried to assist
them.
Once inside the splendid castle. Lord Thompson led them past the
throngs of titled people who milled about and ushered them into the
Throne Room, where Elizabeth held Court.
He turned to Conor and Innis. "I must ask that you relinquish any
weapons you may possess."
Conor touched a hand to the sword at his waist. "Why must I give this
up?"
"Because you will be in the presence of the queen. The soldiers who
guard her person will arrest anyone found concealing a weapon."
Conor grudgingly removed his sword from its sheath and handed it
over.
When Innis made no move to follow his lead AnnaClaire nudged
him. "I know you carry a knife. You must give it up."
"Never, Englishwoman."
She glanced at Conor for support. At a nod of his head, the lad bent
and removed the sharp dagger from his boot, placing it in Lord
Thompson's hand.
As her father walked away, Innis turned to her with a scowl. "You've
left me defenseless, Englishwoman."
"I think it is a better choice than being jailed."
They turned their attention to the colorful pageantry around them.
Most of the nobility came to watch the proceedings, which offered
them a constant source of entertainment. Elizabeth, enjoying her
power, presided over everything from petty crimes to squabbles
between vendors and their patrons. Her wit was said to be quick and
cutting. Her wisdom was admirable. And her patience was always on
a short tether.
Lord Thompson spoke with a man in gold and scarlet robes, who
listened, nodded, then walked from the room. When her father
returned to her side he said to AnnaClaire, "You and your friends will
wait here until you are summoned before the queen."
Conor watched him walk away. "Your father won't be waiting with
us?"
AnnaClaire shook her head. "My father is one of the queen's
counsellors. He must stand by her side to assist if she should have any
questions regarding the law of the land. But he cautioned me that
there is little he can do or say that will help our cause."
Just then AnnaClaire looked up and gave a little groan of dismay.
Walking toward her was Lord Dun- stan.
"My dear lady. I just heard the good news from your father." He
caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, then stepped back to give her
a long, appraising look. "You seem none the worse for your ordeal."
"I'm fine, my lord. Truly," she added when he gave her a look of
skepticism.
"You'll be much better when you've had time to wash the taste of that
filthy island from your lips." He placed her hand on his sleeve.
"Come. We'll sit with Lord Davis and Lady Thornly."
"They're here?" She glanced around and, seeing her old friends,
waved to them across the room.
"Aye. They returned aboard ship with me, to lend whatever solace
they could to your father during these trying times. Praise heaven
you've been rescued from that madman." He turned to glance at the
young man and boy who flanked her. "And who might this be?"
"The madman's brother." Conor's tone was carefully controlled.
"Conor O'Neil, this is Lynley Lord Dunstan." As the two men
nodded, AnnaClaire added, "And this is Innis Maguire."
Dunstan glanced from them to AnnaClaire and then back again in
puzzlement. ' 'Now that you are free, why would you willingly
associate with your captor's family?"
"To know us is to love us," Conor said with a grin.
Beside him, Innis snorted with laughter.
Before they could continue, the gentleman in gold and scarlet entered
the room to announce the queen. At once the crowd fell silent. When
Elizabeth entered, the men bowed and the women curtsied. No one
straightened until the queen had ascended her throne.
Elizabeth wore a gown of royal purple, with a girdle encrusted with
jewels. At her neck was a starched jew-eled ruff and a long triple rope
of pearls that hung to her waist. There were more jewels glittering in
her hair. She was an imposing presence. One accustomed to
holding
her subjects spellbound.
The queen was surrounded by her counsellors, who took seats to her
right and left. Behind them stood a cluster of soldiers, who formed a
half circle, their swords lifted in salute. Standing in a position of
honor, directly in the center of the ring of soldiers, was the one known
as Tilden.
AnnaClaire glanced at Innis, who had caught her hand and was
gripping it so hard she had to bite back a cry. His eyes were huge, his
mouth open. She turned to Conor, who had gone pale.
"The bastard," Conor whispered under his breath. "If I had my sword,
I'd kill him where he stands."
AnnaClaire touched a hand to his arm. "You have a better weapon,
Conor. The truth will set Rory free and strip Tilden of any shred of
honor."
Though she spoke bravely enough, she was relieved that both Conor
and Innis had been ordered to relinquish their weapons. After seeing
what his brother had suffered, she had no doubt that Conor would
have leapt into battle, ending any chance they had of saving Rory's
life. As for Innis, there was no way of knowing how the lad would
have reacted.
For several hours they were forced to watch and listen as the queen
settled one matter after another. Some were sad or tragic, as in the
case of a midwife who had told a weeping young mother that her
infant was stillborn, only to deliver the baby to a friend who was
barren. Elizabeth electrified the crowd by ordering the midwife to
relinquish her own child into bondage to the young mother for one
year.
Some of the cases brought before the queen were silly, such as the
tavern owner who incurred the wrath of a bride whose husband
returned home too drunk to bed her. The queen's laughter faded when
the tavern owner admitted that he had also taken a good part of the
bride's dowry in payment for the ale. He was not only ordered to
make restitution, but was ordered to share the profits of his tavern for
a fortnight.
With each case brought before her, Elizabeth became more snappish.
It was plain that the lateness of the hour and the endless misery of so
many of the petitioners were beginning to take their toll upon their
monarch.
Suddenly they heard the queen's counsellor announce, ' 'In the matter
of the arrest of the Irish outlaw, Rory O'Neil, known as the
Blackhearted O'Neil, his brother, Conor O'Neil, has petitioned to
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