CHAPTER V.
THE QUEEN’S PEACE.
It was some three hours or so from sunset when I took leave of my mistresses, both of whom were in the highest spirits. I saw that my young and innocent dear was delighted with her surroundings, and had completely forgotten her objections to Galway. She and Sabina Lynch had at once become friends, and, indeed, it was impossible for anyone to see Eva O’Malley and not immediately to be gained over by her.
But Grace O’Malley had a certain reserve in her talking with the Mayor’s daughter—a reserve that sprang from instinct or intuition, or a forecasting of the future, perhaps.
My two ladies had entrusted me with various orders to their women with regard to sundry boxes of apparel to be sent to the Lynch mansion, and as I set off to The Cross of Blood, I felt in better humour with myself and the world. Fortune at the moment appeared to smile upon us. Sabina Lynch had told me, just before I bade her good-bye, that her father was to give a revel with dancing—after the fashion which obtained at the Court of Elizabeth, who was immoderately fond, I have heard, of this form of entertainment—in a few days, in honour of the Governor.
I could see that my mistresses both looked forward to it with keen anticipations of pleasure. At first I could not share in their feelings, thinking that we did but waste our time in Galway, until Grace O’Malley had confided to me, in an aside, that she believed her affairs would soon be settled with Sir Nicholas.
She had declared to the Governor that it was her desire to hold her lands from the Queen, on condition that instead of being bound to supply for her Highness’s service so many soldiers when called upon for a hosting, she should maintain her ships and their crews of sailors and fighting men so that they would be always ready to do the Queen’s will, whether it was on the western coasts of Ireland or of Scotland. He had not said “Nay,” but had put the matter off until he had considered it more fully.
As I was walking down the Street of the Key to the harbour, along with the three gentlemen of our household who had gone with me to the Mayor’s, we met a party of half a dozen citizens of the place, all standing talking together. Their voices were raised either in anger or debate, and as we approached I heard enough to understand that they were discussing the action of the Governor with regard to my mistress, and that it met with their strong disapprobation.
“Our ships will never be safe,” cried one, as we came up with them. They made no effort to let us pass, though the street was narrow at this point, and seemed rather as if they intended to dispute the ground with us. The odds were against us, but not too greatly; so saying, “By your leave,” I went on.