The Hawk and the Dove by Virginia Henley

Author:Virginia Henley [Henley, Virginia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-56765-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 1988-01-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Shane went into the city alone to answer the summons from O’Neill. He climbed to the top floor of the brothel on Threadneedle Street, removed his black cloak, and shook off the raindrops that had just started to fall.

O’Neill’s eyes, those dark orbs that saw everything and said nothing, sought those of his son. Shane knew he’d never grow used to them. The two men extended their right arms until with a dull thud their hands fell on each other’s shoulders. Such a blow would have almost felled a horse, but neither man flinched. Finally O’Neill’s voice broke the silence. “I played her like an Irish harp. The moment she became pliant, I seduced her with my golden tongue. I told her plantationing Ireland was wrong, yet her men in Dublin went blindly ahead with it. I told her graft was rampant in Dublin’s government. English lords are voracious for Irish land, and for coins placed in the right palm they are handed five thousand acres apiece. But to a man they are absentee landlords with overseers who make slaves of the Irish! I told her the English of Dublin rob her government in England as viciously as they do Ireland. I demanded an honest governor and in exchange I would keep all the clans neutral.”

Shane nodded, waiting for the rest. O’Neill’s neck was safe, but whom had he betrayed in safeguarding his position?

“I told her there was a Catholic underground with directives coming in daily from France and Spain. I told her plainly her English Catholic lords had plans to restore Catholicism to England and put Mary of Scots on her throne. She demanded names and I supplied them— Henry Garnet, Robert Southwell, Throckmorton at Mile End, and Babington. I told her the Ship Tavern at Lincoln’s Inn Fields in Holborn was a Catholic gathering place.”

Shane would have to warn the Irish Catholics who gathered there, for he knew O’Neill would let them all be sacrificed.

“She bade me inform Walsingham this night, so if there is any business you must take care of before he gets this information, you’d better be about it.”

Shane thought O’Neill must have balls of brass to face Walsingham with the dossier he must have on him. The O’Neill gathered up his cloak and bent to slip a blade into his boot, then he snuffed the candles with bare fingers. They did not wish to risk being seen together, so O’Neill started toward Cheapside to the Strand and Walsingham House and Shane turned toward Gracechurch Street and the river, but after a long pause he turned and followed his father at a discreet distance. Suddenly he stiffened, for out of the shadows stole a dark, menacing figure which was clearly following the O’Neill. He instantly dismissed thoughts of a footpad or cutpurse; this was a spy Shane had unwittingly led to O’Neill. Now the two of them would be connected, and the cover of the brothel blown to hell for Irish spies. Shane cursed beneath his breath; he had no choice but to eliminate the man.

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