The Butcher's Daughter, page 24
“Your Majesty?”
“What shall be your fate, girl?”
“I know not, your Majesty. I suppose a trial, a verdict of guilty certainly and then I’ll be hanged or beheaded for my crimes.”
“And does this prospect trouble you?”
“Not greatly, no. I’ve seen the face of death before. I should have been its victim long ago. I should have died that day I witnessed my father being murdered in his shop. I should have died at sea a dozen times or more since then. And I should have died on the beach at Guadeloupe that night the Twins attacked my camp and took me. Every day has been a gift, a blessing. Perhaps your Majesty might indulge me, might consider one small favor though?”
The queen arched an eyebrow. “Oh, a favor you say, a royal favor? And what favor might that be?”
“I would not care to have my body left on display for all the world to see rotting away in a cage at Wapping for months and months. Perhaps your Majesty could find it in her noble heart to show me some pity, allow my body to be buried at sea?”
“Pity, pity for you, dear sister?” the queen scoffed. “Ha! We think not! Your time here in the Tower has muddled your senses. Why would a beautiful woman with title and possessions, a woman with wits and cunning in abundance, need any pity from us? We pity those poor wretches who have crossed you, whose bones lay scattered across the ocean deep.”
I was taken aback by the queen’s words. I did not know what to say and so I said nothing.
“You seem oddly willing to embrace death quick enough, Lady Mary. Or perhaps I should address you as Captain Mary? How can this be so when you now know your Hunter is alive and well, a man we’ve heard you say on more than one occasion that you are very fond of?”
“Knowing he is alive and well but out of reach has eased my pain but a little.”
“Ah, we supposed as much. Now, tell us, you spoke of crimes. Let us have frank and honest speech between us. What crimes should you be tried for precisely? What high crimes have you committed to warrant a hanging at Execution Dock or a beheading at the Tower?”
“Beg pardon? Your Majesty has heard my story.”
“Indeed we have. You have told us tales of murder, treason, kidnapping, rape, theft and pillaging. Which one of these heinous crimes are you guilty of?”
“I’ve killed, your Majesty. I have killed many men.”
“Ah, yes. So you have told us - in striking detail. But the law is often very tolerant about killing. Isn’t that so my right and trusty Lord Wexford?”
Wexford laid his pen aside and cocked his head to one side in thought before he looked over at me. “Quite so my Queen, quite so. Why, a kingdom may go to war and solders must kill. That is no crime, your Majesty. A man may rightly kill to defend himself, his family, his hearth, his home and certainly these matters are not crimes. A king or queen may execute subjects for treason to protect the realm. Neither is this a crime under our laws. Even the Vicar of Christ may - .”
Wexford stopped in midsentence when the queen raised her hand to cut him off. “Thank you, my Lord Wexford. We understand your point quite clearly. Yes Lady Mary, we have heard your story and we have been a most attentive listener. Some months ago we charged our High Lord Marshal with the task of examining your story too and he could find no flaw in it. You have been remarkably candid and honest with us - more than many, even amongst some at court in whom we place great trust. Indeed high crimes have been committed, but not by you.”
“I don’t understand, your Majesty.”
“Oh come girl. A clever woman can always recognize another clever woman. Do you think us daft?”
“Certainly not, your Majesty.”
“Good. Then give us a little credit, Mary. You’ve committed no crime against this kingdom, well, none leastwise that would warrant a hanging. Your dabbling in smuggling is of no interest to us. You’ve lived and survived all your years in another world, in a dark and dangerous world where people live and die by dark and dangerous rules. You’ve killed men, true, men who deserved killing for their wickedness and perfidies we think. As we see things, you’ve done our realm a good service. It is you, my dear, who has been the victim of murder, rape, kidnapping and violence.”
I must have looked at the queen in shock. “So what is to become of me?”
“We would see the mark,” the queen commanded.
I hesitated for a moment. But when the queen frowned at me with displeasure, I stood and undid the lace to my blouse and reluctantly exposed my breast for her.
The queen stood and pulled my blouse farther back off my shoulders, exposing both my breasts. She considered my bosom for a moment and then focused her attention on my scar without emotion.
“The Twin wearing the eyepatch was right in this at least: you are an exquisite creature, now what to do with you indeed?” she asked and began re-lacing my blouse for me. “Your Master Hunter gave you sound advice my dear. You must take pride in this mark. You must take this mark for your own. As for what is to be done with you, well, you are to be released on the morrow and we shall issue you a royal pardon for any past transgressions. We have one condition however before we set you free. We must have your word that you will never take up arms against us.”
A sudden flood of emotions overwhelmed me. I fell to my knees before the queen, bowed my head and wept.
The queen leaned down and kissed me on the head. “Do you love this Hunter of yours?”
I wiped the tears from my eyes before looking up at the queen. “With all my heart I do your Majesty.”
“And we are assured he is worthy of your love. Go to him. Find a quiet place to live. Raise a family. Do this with our blessing. But if you return to the sea you love Mary, you tempt fate and we fear for your wellbeing. It would distress us greatly if any harm befell you as we have become very fond of you.”
“Is it your command then, your Majesty, I not return to sea?”
The queen smiled and took my chin in her hand. “No, it is our wish, nothing more. You have O’Malley blood. We know you are a free spirit with a fiery heart and an unquenchable thirst for adventure. We know you have debts to settle too. A man shall visit you tomorrow. If you choose to return to life at sea Mary, you must do so on the terms he gives you. Our interests must not be in opposition.”
“Your Majesty is most gracious.”
“Did you know you have a half-sister named Grace O’Malley, or Gráinne Ní Mháille in the old Gaelic? She is causing us some mischief in the Irish Sea of late.”
“I know her not, your Majesty.”
“No matter. Do we have your word that you shall never take up arms against us?”
“You do, your Majesty,” I said and kissed her hand.
“And if you again have warships and men-at-arms at your beck and call, do we have your solemn word that you will defend your Queen should evil from across the seas threaten our royal person?”
“I swear it.”
“Excellent. If you will give us your binding oath on these matters later with the customary formalities, then all can be forgiven my good, my most precious sister. You are an extraordinary woman Mary. We shall sorely miss you...”
Just as the Sovereign Queen of England, France and Ireland and the Fidei Defensor, etc. had promised, a man came to visit me the next day, a man with a harsh demeanor about him, a man with the familiar face of a strict schoolmaster. I struggled to understand.
“Madam,” the Englishman said as he removed his fine hat and bowed before me most elegantly.
“You!”
“I go by many names but you is hardly one of them,” he replied with no humor in his tone. “One of my names is John Martin as you may recall. In Santo Domingo you showed me great kindness, my lady. You spared my life and put money in my pocket. You gave me a sporting chance. Even though you asked for nothing in return from me in Santo Domingo, I am here to repay my debt.”
“I would be most indebted to you, sir, if only you were able to show me your kindness. I take it by your fine apparel, by your cockiness and by the fact that you have privileges inside the Tower, that you are a gentleman of substance and influence. But you should know sir that I have the queen’s attention and she may yet be fond of my neck.”
“Ah Madam, you have wits to match your charms and beauty. You do not trust me and it is well that this is so for I am not a man to be trusted. But you underestimate your friends. And I assure you, I am indeed your friend. That much you can trust. I was the one who first whispered your story, what I knew of it at least, into the queen’s ear and I am here now as the queen’s good servant.”
“I see,” I said. “And how, may I ask, do you serve the queen cooped-up in the Tower with me on this fine day?”
“Did the queen not say to expect me?”
“Her majesty told me a man would come to visit me though she did not reveal his name. On this, however, she was most clear: her majesty intends to release me, to grant me a royal pardon. But if I choose to return to sea again, I must do so on the terms this man gives me.”
Martin removed a rolled parchment from his coat and undid a red ribbon, letting the parchment unravel. “Just so, my lady. I am the man the queen spoke of and I have in my hand a Letter of Marque and Reprisal signed and sealed by Her Royal Majesty on this very day. There is an undeclared war being waged between England, France and Spain and even with some of the Italian kingdoms, in part over the New World, a world you have become well-acquainted with. If you accept this commission, you are pledging your allegiance to the Queen of England, France and Ireland. Henceforth, you sail across the oceans as an English privateer.”
“A privateer?”
“Yes. It is a most dangerous and short-lived business for amateurs and fools. But for those who can sail and fight, for those who are clever and can keep their wits about them during moments of great peril, the work can be most lucrative and satisfying.”
“I can sail and I can fight.”
“Yes, I know. Your skills at sea have not gone unnoticed.”
“I can willingly pledge my allegiance to England too and unlike some at court I suspect, my pledge will have genuine value. But many of my men will not give the same pledge if it means fighting against their Irish kin.”
“Yes, I anticipated this conundrum as did the queen. Her majesty is interested in humbling Spanish arrogance and checking French and Italian interests in the New World which grow stronger by the day. The New World brings new world politics, Mary. You and your men will not be required to fight against your own countrymen. But neither, my lady, can you fight with them if their fight is against the queen.”
“I see. Pray tell me sir, who are you exactly?”
“Exactly? Exactly I am a man of many faces, of many names and with many assorted talents. When first we met I was a man in need of bath and a fresh privy bucket as you might recall. But let me answer you more plainly in this way if it will help you any: I count among my friends Francis Walsingham and I am to the queen, professionally, what your Hunter is to you. I am her foil with a razor sharp edge.”
I knew the name Walsingham. He was rumored to be the queen’s spymaster. “Hmmm… How very interesting. Will your travels take you back to the New World then?”
“I should think so, yes.”
“Well, I can sail and I can fight as I say. There are even some who think me clever. But I have no ships and without ships I’d make a poor privateer.”
“Ah, allow me to remedy this unfortunate circumstance, at least in part. There is a respectable sloop moored down by the docks at Gravesend. She is old and a bit clumsy, but she is seaworthy. It is a start. I inspected her myself some days ago. She is, with the queen’s blessing, yours.”
“How will I find this sloop?”
“Oh, I suspect you’ll have no difficulty there. I can’t resist giving you a hint though: look for a yellow-gold ensign flying off her bowsprit staff.”
“A yellow-gold ensign?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, but I’ll need men to sail her.”
“I shouldn’t worry about that.”
“Is she armed?”
“Alas, no. But you are a resourceful woman. Ah, that reminds me. I have a second gift for you, Lady Mary. I have it on good authority that there is this very fine nao, French-built, being repaired and reconditioned at Waterford after suffering some minor damage recently when she ran aground. She bears a striking resemblance to a ship once known as the Phantom, or so men say.”
“Indeed? Do you know the brothers who call themselves the Twins?”
“I know of them.”
“Are they in the queen’s good graces?”
“Certainly not.”
“The Phantom, laid-up in Waterford you say?”
“So I said.”
I took the Letter of Marque and Reprisal from Martin’s hands and countersigned the document on the corner table using the very pen Lord Wexford had used to transcribe my story for the queen.
“What happens if my men or I are captured by one kingdom or the other?”
Martin took the original commission back and handed me a copy. He took my hand and kissed it. “The queen will deny the authenticity of the document you hold in your hands of course, claim this copy was forged.”
“Ah, of course. Pirates are always hanged.”
Martin finally cracked a smile. “Indeed they are, Madam. Our adventures into the New World are not for the faint hearted. I must take my leave of you now Lady Mary and you must make ready to depart these dreary quarters and regain your freedom. Your past sins have now been forgiven. You are reborn. Have a care with your new life dear lady. I pray we meet again, as friends and allies always. I wish you Godspeed in your new journey.”
At midnight, as the outer doors of the Tower closed behind me, I stepped out into a fine and pleasant snowfall. The entire city was blanketed in unspoiled, white powder. Even though the lamplighters had already made their rounds, London’s streets were dark and deserted. I stood outside the Tower and paused to fill my lungs with clean, fresh air. I took a moment to relish the glorious taste of freedom.
I had no plan except to find a certain sloop flying a yellow-gold ensign. I had no money for a carriage or for a ferry boat and so I started walking. I buttoned up my coat against the evening’s chill and hid my dagger, both coat and dagger were parting gifts to me from the Constable of the Tower, and then I crossed the river at London Bridge and headed east for Gravesend. The walk though was more than I had bargained for and I only made it about halfway to Gravesend before my legs gave out. Lucky for me a farmer taking his produce to early morning market stopped along the road and let me ride in the back of his cart the rest of the way.
As I strolled up and down the docks at Gravesend on wobbly legs and burning feet, searching for a sloop flying a yellow-gold ensign, my mind kept churning out ideas at a furious pace. I needed men. I needed money. And I would need a plan to exact my revenge. Yes, revenge - bloody and swift - ruled my thoughts. Jesus preached forgiveness and love they say. He gave the Old World the New Testament. But I would return to the New World with the Old Testament in one hand a sword in the other and God could sort out the right or wrong of it on judgment day. Lex talionis, the law of revenge, a fashionable new expression in London, is what I had in mind.
Martin was right. The sloop was not hard to find, though I had passed her by three times. The yellow-gold ensign Martin had spoken of hung limp against the staff, caked in ice and snow, and I had missed it.
When I stepped on board, three men stepped out of the shadows and startled me. I planted my feet firmly on the deck and swiftly drew my dagger, unafraid. If this was the queen’s plan to quietly see me disappear, so be it. But I would not go easily. I would not leave this world without a fight.
“Easy there, woman!” Hunter bellowed and laughed. Atwood and Efendi rushed to my side and embraced me. My heart soared. Delirious with joy I dropped my knife and hugged and kissed them both. And then, to my annoyance, I broke down again, weeping like some silly girl.
“We have a hot meal and warm clothing waiting for you below, Mary,” Hunter offered cheerfully and took my hand.
“Oh, I am indeed chilled to the bone and famished too!” I replied. “English weather does not suit me and the walk was long and hard. Your gifts are most welcome!”
Hunter laughed. “You walked? I would have thought your high and mighty friend would have brought you over to us in her royal barge.”
“She gave me freedom, this ship and reunited me with my brothers. I am most content.”
We went below to the ship’s galley to share a meal and to tell our stories in turn. Hunter had even thought to bring wine and plenty of it.
Atwood and Efendi had been on shore with most of the men in Old Havana they told me, helping load the cargo onto the barges, when ships flying Spanish colors entered the bay. The Twins - who my men at first thought were the Spanish coming to intercept a few smugglers for unpaid taxes - struck fast and hard with scarcely a shot fired, easily overwhelming Gilley and the rest of our men on board the ships. Powerless to help, Atwood and Efendi could only watch from shore in horror as the Twins seized our ships and executed all my officers. Gilley, Green, Fox and Ferguson, all very dear to me, were butchered in plain sight. When the Twins launched boats carrying platoons of men to storm the beach and seize our cargo, Atwood and Efendi gathered the remnants of our men and scattered north on foot towards Havana where they stole a sturdy ship for the long and perilous voyage back to Ireland.
“How many men can we muster?” I asked.
“Two hundred, perhaps a little more, Mary,” Atwood said. “But we’ll need a larger boat than this old tub and we’ll need money for provisions and heavy guns. Do you have anything left, Mary?”
“No. My only treasure in all the world is you three men unless, of course, any of you wish to pursue better prospects. I’ll hold no grudge.”
Atwood grunted. “Did the English torture you in the Tower?”
“No. Why do you ask, Jacob?”
“Something has addled your brains. Better prospects indeed! We are all bound by the Ten Rules or have you forgotten?”
“What shall be your fate, girl?”
“I know not, your Majesty. I suppose a trial, a verdict of guilty certainly and then I’ll be hanged or beheaded for my crimes.”
“And does this prospect trouble you?”
“Not greatly, no. I’ve seen the face of death before. I should have been its victim long ago. I should have died that day I witnessed my father being murdered in his shop. I should have died at sea a dozen times or more since then. And I should have died on the beach at Guadeloupe that night the Twins attacked my camp and took me. Every day has been a gift, a blessing. Perhaps your Majesty might indulge me, might consider one small favor though?”
The queen arched an eyebrow. “Oh, a favor you say, a royal favor? And what favor might that be?”
“I would not care to have my body left on display for all the world to see rotting away in a cage at Wapping for months and months. Perhaps your Majesty could find it in her noble heart to show me some pity, allow my body to be buried at sea?”
“Pity, pity for you, dear sister?” the queen scoffed. “Ha! We think not! Your time here in the Tower has muddled your senses. Why would a beautiful woman with title and possessions, a woman with wits and cunning in abundance, need any pity from us? We pity those poor wretches who have crossed you, whose bones lay scattered across the ocean deep.”
I was taken aback by the queen’s words. I did not know what to say and so I said nothing.
“You seem oddly willing to embrace death quick enough, Lady Mary. Or perhaps I should address you as Captain Mary? How can this be so when you now know your Hunter is alive and well, a man we’ve heard you say on more than one occasion that you are very fond of?”
“Knowing he is alive and well but out of reach has eased my pain but a little.”
“Ah, we supposed as much. Now, tell us, you spoke of crimes. Let us have frank and honest speech between us. What crimes should you be tried for precisely? What high crimes have you committed to warrant a hanging at Execution Dock or a beheading at the Tower?”
“Beg pardon? Your Majesty has heard my story.”
“Indeed we have. You have told us tales of murder, treason, kidnapping, rape, theft and pillaging. Which one of these heinous crimes are you guilty of?”
“I’ve killed, your Majesty. I have killed many men.”
“Ah, yes. So you have told us - in striking detail. But the law is often very tolerant about killing. Isn’t that so my right and trusty Lord Wexford?”
Wexford laid his pen aside and cocked his head to one side in thought before he looked over at me. “Quite so my Queen, quite so. Why, a kingdom may go to war and solders must kill. That is no crime, your Majesty. A man may rightly kill to defend himself, his family, his hearth, his home and certainly these matters are not crimes. A king or queen may execute subjects for treason to protect the realm. Neither is this a crime under our laws. Even the Vicar of Christ may - .”
Wexford stopped in midsentence when the queen raised her hand to cut him off. “Thank you, my Lord Wexford. We understand your point quite clearly. Yes Lady Mary, we have heard your story and we have been a most attentive listener. Some months ago we charged our High Lord Marshal with the task of examining your story too and he could find no flaw in it. You have been remarkably candid and honest with us - more than many, even amongst some at court in whom we place great trust. Indeed high crimes have been committed, but not by you.”
“I don’t understand, your Majesty.”
“Oh come girl. A clever woman can always recognize another clever woman. Do you think us daft?”
“Certainly not, your Majesty.”
“Good. Then give us a little credit, Mary. You’ve committed no crime against this kingdom, well, none leastwise that would warrant a hanging. Your dabbling in smuggling is of no interest to us. You’ve lived and survived all your years in another world, in a dark and dangerous world where people live and die by dark and dangerous rules. You’ve killed men, true, men who deserved killing for their wickedness and perfidies we think. As we see things, you’ve done our realm a good service. It is you, my dear, who has been the victim of murder, rape, kidnapping and violence.”
I must have looked at the queen in shock. “So what is to become of me?”
“We would see the mark,” the queen commanded.
I hesitated for a moment. But when the queen frowned at me with displeasure, I stood and undid the lace to my blouse and reluctantly exposed my breast for her.
The queen stood and pulled my blouse farther back off my shoulders, exposing both my breasts. She considered my bosom for a moment and then focused her attention on my scar without emotion.
“The Twin wearing the eyepatch was right in this at least: you are an exquisite creature, now what to do with you indeed?” she asked and began re-lacing my blouse for me. “Your Master Hunter gave you sound advice my dear. You must take pride in this mark. You must take this mark for your own. As for what is to be done with you, well, you are to be released on the morrow and we shall issue you a royal pardon for any past transgressions. We have one condition however before we set you free. We must have your word that you will never take up arms against us.”
A sudden flood of emotions overwhelmed me. I fell to my knees before the queen, bowed my head and wept.
The queen leaned down and kissed me on the head. “Do you love this Hunter of yours?”
I wiped the tears from my eyes before looking up at the queen. “With all my heart I do your Majesty.”
“And we are assured he is worthy of your love. Go to him. Find a quiet place to live. Raise a family. Do this with our blessing. But if you return to the sea you love Mary, you tempt fate and we fear for your wellbeing. It would distress us greatly if any harm befell you as we have become very fond of you.”
“Is it your command then, your Majesty, I not return to sea?”
The queen smiled and took my chin in her hand. “No, it is our wish, nothing more. You have O’Malley blood. We know you are a free spirit with a fiery heart and an unquenchable thirst for adventure. We know you have debts to settle too. A man shall visit you tomorrow. If you choose to return to life at sea Mary, you must do so on the terms he gives you. Our interests must not be in opposition.”
“Your Majesty is most gracious.”
“Did you know you have a half-sister named Grace O’Malley, or Gráinne Ní Mháille in the old Gaelic? She is causing us some mischief in the Irish Sea of late.”
“I know her not, your Majesty.”
“No matter. Do we have your word that you shall never take up arms against us?”
“You do, your Majesty,” I said and kissed her hand.
“And if you again have warships and men-at-arms at your beck and call, do we have your solemn word that you will defend your Queen should evil from across the seas threaten our royal person?”
“I swear it.”
“Excellent. If you will give us your binding oath on these matters later with the customary formalities, then all can be forgiven my good, my most precious sister. You are an extraordinary woman Mary. We shall sorely miss you...”
Just as the Sovereign Queen of England, France and Ireland and the Fidei Defensor, etc. had promised, a man came to visit me the next day, a man with a harsh demeanor about him, a man with the familiar face of a strict schoolmaster. I struggled to understand.
“Madam,” the Englishman said as he removed his fine hat and bowed before me most elegantly.
“You!”
“I go by many names but you is hardly one of them,” he replied with no humor in his tone. “One of my names is John Martin as you may recall. In Santo Domingo you showed me great kindness, my lady. You spared my life and put money in my pocket. You gave me a sporting chance. Even though you asked for nothing in return from me in Santo Domingo, I am here to repay my debt.”
“I would be most indebted to you, sir, if only you were able to show me your kindness. I take it by your fine apparel, by your cockiness and by the fact that you have privileges inside the Tower, that you are a gentleman of substance and influence. But you should know sir that I have the queen’s attention and she may yet be fond of my neck.”
“Ah Madam, you have wits to match your charms and beauty. You do not trust me and it is well that this is so for I am not a man to be trusted. But you underestimate your friends. And I assure you, I am indeed your friend. That much you can trust. I was the one who first whispered your story, what I knew of it at least, into the queen’s ear and I am here now as the queen’s good servant.”
“I see,” I said. “And how, may I ask, do you serve the queen cooped-up in the Tower with me on this fine day?”
“Did the queen not say to expect me?”
“Her majesty told me a man would come to visit me though she did not reveal his name. On this, however, she was most clear: her majesty intends to release me, to grant me a royal pardon. But if I choose to return to sea again, I must do so on the terms this man gives me.”
Martin removed a rolled parchment from his coat and undid a red ribbon, letting the parchment unravel. “Just so, my lady. I am the man the queen spoke of and I have in my hand a Letter of Marque and Reprisal signed and sealed by Her Royal Majesty on this very day. There is an undeclared war being waged between England, France and Spain and even with some of the Italian kingdoms, in part over the New World, a world you have become well-acquainted with. If you accept this commission, you are pledging your allegiance to the Queen of England, France and Ireland. Henceforth, you sail across the oceans as an English privateer.”
“A privateer?”
“Yes. It is a most dangerous and short-lived business for amateurs and fools. But for those who can sail and fight, for those who are clever and can keep their wits about them during moments of great peril, the work can be most lucrative and satisfying.”
“I can sail and I can fight.”
“Yes, I know. Your skills at sea have not gone unnoticed.”
“I can willingly pledge my allegiance to England too and unlike some at court I suspect, my pledge will have genuine value. But many of my men will not give the same pledge if it means fighting against their Irish kin.”
“Yes, I anticipated this conundrum as did the queen. Her majesty is interested in humbling Spanish arrogance and checking French and Italian interests in the New World which grow stronger by the day. The New World brings new world politics, Mary. You and your men will not be required to fight against your own countrymen. But neither, my lady, can you fight with them if their fight is against the queen.”
“I see. Pray tell me sir, who are you exactly?”
“Exactly? Exactly I am a man of many faces, of many names and with many assorted talents. When first we met I was a man in need of bath and a fresh privy bucket as you might recall. But let me answer you more plainly in this way if it will help you any: I count among my friends Francis Walsingham and I am to the queen, professionally, what your Hunter is to you. I am her foil with a razor sharp edge.”
I knew the name Walsingham. He was rumored to be the queen’s spymaster. “Hmmm… How very interesting. Will your travels take you back to the New World then?”
“I should think so, yes.”
“Well, I can sail and I can fight as I say. There are even some who think me clever. But I have no ships and without ships I’d make a poor privateer.”
“Ah, allow me to remedy this unfortunate circumstance, at least in part. There is a respectable sloop moored down by the docks at Gravesend. She is old and a bit clumsy, but she is seaworthy. It is a start. I inspected her myself some days ago. She is, with the queen’s blessing, yours.”
“How will I find this sloop?”
“Oh, I suspect you’ll have no difficulty there. I can’t resist giving you a hint though: look for a yellow-gold ensign flying off her bowsprit staff.”
“A yellow-gold ensign?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, but I’ll need men to sail her.”
“I shouldn’t worry about that.”
“Is she armed?”
“Alas, no. But you are a resourceful woman. Ah, that reminds me. I have a second gift for you, Lady Mary. I have it on good authority that there is this very fine nao, French-built, being repaired and reconditioned at Waterford after suffering some minor damage recently when she ran aground. She bears a striking resemblance to a ship once known as the Phantom, or so men say.”
“Indeed? Do you know the brothers who call themselves the Twins?”
“I know of them.”
“Are they in the queen’s good graces?”
“Certainly not.”
“The Phantom, laid-up in Waterford you say?”
“So I said.”
I took the Letter of Marque and Reprisal from Martin’s hands and countersigned the document on the corner table using the very pen Lord Wexford had used to transcribe my story for the queen.
“What happens if my men or I are captured by one kingdom or the other?”
Martin took the original commission back and handed me a copy. He took my hand and kissed it. “The queen will deny the authenticity of the document you hold in your hands of course, claim this copy was forged.”
“Ah, of course. Pirates are always hanged.”
Martin finally cracked a smile. “Indeed they are, Madam. Our adventures into the New World are not for the faint hearted. I must take my leave of you now Lady Mary and you must make ready to depart these dreary quarters and regain your freedom. Your past sins have now been forgiven. You are reborn. Have a care with your new life dear lady. I pray we meet again, as friends and allies always. I wish you Godspeed in your new journey.”
At midnight, as the outer doors of the Tower closed behind me, I stepped out into a fine and pleasant snowfall. The entire city was blanketed in unspoiled, white powder. Even though the lamplighters had already made their rounds, London’s streets were dark and deserted. I stood outside the Tower and paused to fill my lungs with clean, fresh air. I took a moment to relish the glorious taste of freedom.
I had no plan except to find a certain sloop flying a yellow-gold ensign. I had no money for a carriage or for a ferry boat and so I started walking. I buttoned up my coat against the evening’s chill and hid my dagger, both coat and dagger were parting gifts to me from the Constable of the Tower, and then I crossed the river at London Bridge and headed east for Gravesend. The walk though was more than I had bargained for and I only made it about halfway to Gravesend before my legs gave out. Lucky for me a farmer taking his produce to early morning market stopped along the road and let me ride in the back of his cart the rest of the way.
As I strolled up and down the docks at Gravesend on wobbly legs and burning feet, searching for a sloop flying a yellow-gold ensign, my mind kept churning out ideas at a furious pace. I needed men. I needed money. And I would need a plan to exact my revenge. Yes, revenge - bloody and swift - ruled my thoughts. Jesus preached forgiveness and love they say. He gave the Old World the New Testament. But I would return to the New World with the Old Testament in one hand a sword in the other and God could sort out the right or wrong of it on judgment day. Lex talionis, the law of revenge, a fashionable new expression in London, is what I had in mind.
Martin was right. The sloop was not hard to find, though I had passed her by three times. The yellow-gold ensign Martin had spoken of hung limp against the staff, caked in ice and snow, and I had missed it.
When I stepped on board, three men stepped out of the shadows and startled me. I planted my feet firmly on the deck and swiftly drew my dagger, unafraid. If this was the queen’s plan to quietly see me disappear, so be it. But I would not go easily. I would not leave this world without a fight.
“Easy there, woman!” Hunter bellowed and laughed. Atwood and Efendi rushed to my side and embraced me. My heart soared. Delirious with joy I dropped my knife and hugged and kissed them both. And then, to my annoyance, I broke down again, weeping like some silly girl.
“We have a hot meal and warm clothing waiting for you below, Mary,” Hunter offered cheerfully and took my hand.
“Oh, I am indeed chilled to the bone and famished too!” I replied. “English weather does not suit me and the walk was long and hard. Your gifts are most welcome!”
Hunter laughed. “You walked? I would have thought your high and mighty friend would have brought you over to us in her royal barge.”
“She gave me freedom, this ship and reunited me with my brothers. I am most content.”
We went below to the ship’s galley to share a meal and to tell our stories in turn. Hunter had even thought to bring wine and plenty of it.
Atwood and Efendi had been on shore with most of the men in Old Havana they told me, helping load the cargo onto the barges, when ships flying Spanish colors entered the bay. The Twins - who my men at first thought were the Spanish coming to intercept a few smugglers for unpaid taxes - struck fast and hard with scarcely a shot fired, easily overwhelming Gilley and the rest of our men on board the ships. Powerless to help, Atwood and Efendi could only watch from shore in horror as the Twins seized our ships and executed all my officers. Gilley, Green, Fox and Ferguson, all very dear to me, were butchered in plain sight. When the Twins launched boats carrying platoons of men to storm the beach and seize our cargo, Atwood and Efendi gathered the remnants of our men and scattered north on foot towards Havana where they stole a sturdy ship for the long and perilous voyage back to Ireland.
“How many men can we muster?” I asked.
“Two hundred, perhaps a little more, Mary,” Atwood said. “But we’ll need a larger boat than this old tub and we’ll need money for provisions and heavy guns. Do you have anything left, Mary?”
“No. My only treasure in all the world is you three men unless, of course, any of you wish to pursue better prospects. I’ll hold no grudge.”
Atwood grunted. “Did the English torture you in the Tower?”
“No. Why do you ask, Jacob?”
“Something has addled your brains. Better prospects indeed! We are all bound by the Ten Rules or have you forgotten?”
