Rory

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  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