The clock chimed and Elizabeth straightened herself in the seat as she made herself more comfortable. It was rare that she had a morning to herself, and she planned to make the most of this occasion. She was always busy, yet she was consistently bored. Perhaps today she could go for a stroll in the grounds or take up some activity to occupy her mind.
"Maybe I'm just going too soft in my old age," she mumbled to herself. How much posset had she had to drink last night? Her health had not been great recently. "The years have been good to me, but what would my mother think?" The mother she had outlived. The mother she had never known.
Her Tudor blood still ran thick through her veins. She wouldn't allow anybody to tell her any different. Not that they'd try to for fear of being struck down. "Would he be proud?" she sighed as she wondered of her father. Had she grown into the Queen he would have wanted her to be? She could only hope that she would have satisfied her parents. She had done all that her strength would allow, that much she knew.
She shifted her body to face the window. Fixing her attention on the river below, she lost herself in the quiet.
Nothing could have dampened Lord Bingham's mood that day. Her Majesty would be so pleased with him, he could feel it. He'd hardly slept all night, too excited to tell her the wonderful news. He could almost taste his reward.
He'd allowed Her Majesty time to stir from her bedchambers but once the clock had struck nine, he found that he could not wait any longer. He had to steady himself as he skipped along the corridor, not wanting anybody to see him so inappropriately merry.
He came to a halt outside the room in which Her Majesty was sitting so that he could compose himself. After straightening out his jacket he stood for a moment, watching her through the gap in the door. She was resting in her chair, one foot crossed over the other. Not prepared for visitors that morning, she was dressed more plainly than usual in a slender dress of red silk. Lord Bingham admired her fiery hair, which had been neatly arranged on her head. She was beautiful. If only she would notice him, think of him as more than a humble devotee.
He sighed to himself, then coughed: "Your Majesty?"
She jumped, startled by the intrusion. "Lord Bingham. You have returned from Ireland. What is it?" She made sure there was a level of anger in her voice to assert her authority over the disruption, but she would secretly confess to herself that she was glad for the company, as the boredom to which she was so accustomed had once again started to develop. She was beginning to grow weary.
Lord Bingham entered the room as Elizabeth stood up.
"Your Majesty, I bring you good news," he spoke quickly, his nervous excitement causing him to rush his bow. "I thought you ought to know that Tibbott Bourke has now been captured. Please allow me to assure you that he is held securely. He cannot escape."
"The boy has been imprisoned? He is no longer free. Very good. And does he confess to his treason?"
"He has spoken very little, Your Majesty. He certainly does not confess anything, but merely asks to see his chieftain."
"And who is this chieftain? Where is he now?"
"The chieftain, Your Majesty, is the boy's mother. She—"
"What?" Elizabeth blinked, wondering if she'd misheard.
Lord Bingham gulped: "Your Majesty?"
"You say the boy's chieftain is his mother? A female captain?"
"That—that is correct," he stuttered.
"How extraordinary. And do we know where this female chieftain is now, Lord Bingham?"
"She remains on the west coast of Ireland, on Clare Island."
"And her name?"
"Gráinne O'Malley, Your Majesty." His palms were beginning to sweat as he rubbed them together. Elizabeth stood and moved closer to him now, and he could smell the natural scent that lingered on her pale skin. He couldn't help but notice the eager look that had flared in her eyes.
"Seize her and bring her to me then."
"You—you wish to see Gráinne O'Malley?"
"That is what I said, was it not?"
"Yes, yes. Certainly, Your Majesty. Right away."
"You may go now."
Elizabeth turned her back and paced to her chair by the window. Lord Bingham bowed behind her and scampered out of the room, having accepted his mission. He had a duty to do and he could not let Her Majesty down. He must do whatever was required of him to find this female captain and bring her to the Queen.
Gráinne O'Malley must be captured.