Read Online The Irish Princess by Karen Harper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Harper
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Historical fiction, General, Historical, Great Britain, Ireland, princesses, 1509-1547, Great Britain - History - Henry VIII, Clinton, Henry, Edward Fiennes De, Elizabeth Fiennes De, Princesses - Ireland, Elizabeth
Ads: Link
madly.
“What? What? Tell me!” I shouted as Magheen clapped and jumped up to dance a little jig. “Gerald is free in France? Everyone is pardoned?”
“Maybe neither or maybe both—soon!” he said, and put me down. “The Gunner has died of some disease, and in his stead King Henry has named your mother’s brother and her host, Lord Leonard Grey, as the new deputy of Ireland! A man of the Kildare clan by blood ties will soon be here in the Gunner’s place, God curse his black soul!”
“Is King Henry mad, or has he changed his mind toward us?” I cried. My pulse pounded, and I could have soared.
“It seems he’s extending an olive branch,” Uncle James said, as he bent over the letter to skim the words again. “Of course, Lord Grey knows Ireland, for he was here over twenty years ago as marshal of the English army. This appointment has been made by the king’s henchman Cromwell. Perhaps the loss of life at Maynooth was the price Thomas paid for his rebellion, and Lord Grey will patch things up now.”
“Oh, I pray so. No doubt Mother has beseeched him and even the king to make amends for us.” I regretted that I’d just burned her letter. After all, I’d recently decided clever, covert ways might be the best path to revenge.
“But here’s the next thing,” Uncle James went on, his handsome face aglow. “A truce with your five Fitzgerald uncles in attendance! All five of us have been invited to meet your uncle Leonard at Kilmainham Castle in Dublin next month as soon as he arrives. So, my pretty, your Irish and English uncles shall be there to put things aright.”
“And Thomas?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I hear he’s holed up somewhere, but perhaps at Kilmainham we can sue for favorable terms for him. Everything is possible now, including a safe way to send you to your mother. We’ll take you with us to the castle, and Lord Grey can send you to her. Finally, finally, a way out of this wretched situation!”
“See, Magheen,” I said that night in bed, quite late, for we had all sat up to celebrate. “That is sheer superstition about five earls going to England in a cow’s belly and never returning. I warrant Mother did manage to pull some strings to at least pretend to mend things with the king who as good as killed her husband and ruined her castle. She no doubt used her court connections, clever deceit, even feminine wiles; I just know it.”
“Best you not think such, milady, for it would be too easy and too dangerous with your fair face that’s blooming to maidenhood now and will flower full over the years. Beauty is as beauty does, you know, so best leave both the peacemaking and plotting to men.”
I still felt I was spinning with joy and, for once, didn’t fear I’d have my frequent nightmare of being trapped in Maynooth’s cellar in a small boat afloat in a river of blood with heads bobbing in it. Nor was I in the mood to heed Magheen’s subtle scolding or superstitious stories. Five earls in the belly of a cow upon the water, indeed! And Saint Brigid’s cloak growing so large it covered acres of land?
Nor did I believe in turning the other cheek when one—and one’s entire family and people—were sore smitten. Even if the king of England gave us back Maynooth on a silver platter, made reparations for those slaughtered, and pardoned every last Fitzgerald to boot, someday, somehow, I was going to make him pay.
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
July 1535
I was so thrilled that I could hardly sit still on my horse as we six Fitzgeralds with several retainers and guards were passed through the English-guarded gates into Dublin town. Dressed in a fine peach-hued velvet-and-brocade gown trimmed with golden ribbons and a gauze cap lined with pearls, I felt like the princess Father had always said I should be. My attire was a bridal gown that belonged to Uncle James’s daughter, one of my many cousins, one who had been wed at age fifteen. With its tight bodice and tiny
“What? What? Tell me!” I shouted as Magheen clapped and jumped up to dance a little jig. “Gerald is free in France? Everyone is pardoned?”
“Maybe neither or maybe both—soon!” he said, and put me down. “The Gunner has died of some disease, and in his stead King Henry has named your mother’s brother and her host, Lord Leonard Grey, as the new deputy of Ireland! A man of the Kildare clan by blood ties will soon be here in the Gunner’s place, God curse his black soul!”
“Is King Henry mad, or has he changed his mind toward us?” I cried. My pulse pounded, and I could have soared.
“It seems he’s extending an olive branch,” Uncle James said, as he bent over the letter to skim the words again. “Of course, Lord Grey knows Ireland, for he was here over twenty years ago as marshal of the English army. This appointment has been made by the king’s henchman Cromwell. Perhaps the loss of life at Maynooth was the price Thomas paid for his rebellion, and Lord Grey will patch things up now.”
“Oh, I pray so. No doubt Mother has beseeched him and even the king to make amends for us.” I regretted that I’d just burned her letter. After all, I’d recently decided clever, covert ways might be the best path to revenge.
“But here’s the next thing,” Uncle James went on, his handsome face aglow. “A truce with your five Fitzgerald uncles in attendance! All five of us have been invited to meet your uncle Leonard at Kilmainham Castle in Dublin next month as soon as he arrives. So, my pretty, your Irish and English uncles shall be there to put things aright.”
“And Thomas?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I hear he’s holed up somewhere, but perhaps at Kilmainham we can sue for favorable terms for him. Everything is possible now, including a safe way to send you to your mother. We’ll take you with us to the castle, and Lord Grey can send you to her. Finally, finally, a way out of this wretched situation!”
“See, Magheen,” I said that night in bed, quite late, for we had all sat up to celebrate. “That is sheer superstition about five earls going to England in a cow’s belly and never returning. I warrant Mother did manage to pull some strings to at least pretend to mend things with the king who as good as killed her husband and ruined her castle. She no doubt used her court connections, clever deceit, even feminine wiles; I just know it.”
“Best you not think such, milady, for it would be too easy and too dangerous with your fair face that’s blooming to maidenhood now and will flower full over the years. Beauty is as beauty does, you know, so best leave both the peacemaking and plotting to men.”
I still felt I was spinning with joy and, for once, didn’t fear I’d have my frequent nightmare of being trapped in Maynooth’s cellar in a small boat afloat in a river of blood with heads bobbing in it. Nor was I in the mood to heed Magheen’s subtle scolding or superstitious stories. Five earls in the belly of a cow upon the water, indeed! And Saint Brigid’s cloak growing so large it covered acres of land?
Nor did I believe in turning the other cheek when one—and one’s entire family and people—were sore smitten. Even if the king of England gave us back Maynooth on a silver platter, made reparations for those slaughtered, and pardoned every last Fitzgerald to boot, someday, somehow, I was going to make him pay.
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
July 1535
I was so thrilled that I could hardly sit still on my horse as we six Fitzgeralds with several retainers and guards were passed through the English-guarded gates into Dublin town. Dressed in a fine peach-hued velvet-and-brocade gown trimmed with golden ribbons and a gauze cap lined with pearls, I felt like the princess Father had always said I should be. My attire was a bridal gown that belonged to Uncle James’s daughter, one of my many cousins, one who had been wed at age fifteen. With its tight bodice and tiny
Similar Books
