Page 108 of The Pirate Queen

She cannot look at Hugh. Not yet. From the corner of her eye she can see that his skin is pale and waxy. There is no question that he is dead.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Found him by a brick wall near Achill Sound. On his back. Dead deer beside him. We didn’t bring the carcass. It had flies.” He points at the arrow sticking directly out of Hugh’s chest. “We left that in place.”

Grace has known many of these shepherds since she was a child. She knows their faces—if not their names—from those monthly trips to Kildavnet with her father. They are simple men. Honest tenants. They can drink too much and be rowdy at times, but she has no reason to think them liars.

“I believe you,” she tells him, and the entire group shudders with relief. “But how did you know to bring him here?”

“He…ah…belongs to you, yes? That’s what we’ve heard, at least.”

“Heard?”

“Rumors. They say he’s your lover.”

“Does all of Connaught think this?”

“Was it a secret?” the shepherd asks.

“There is no secret. He’s only a man we pulled from a shipwreck. But I had not thought anyone in this county would care enough to start rumors in the first place.”

He sets a weathered hand upon her arm. “You might be astonished to know how deeply the people of Connaught care for you, Gráinne. The rumors are only a symptom of that.”

Oh, it has been a while since she cried. Not since her father died. And she will not do it here, in front of this shepherd and his dirty band of friends. Grace will save that for later, as she always does, when she is alone.

The sound of footsteps now, rushing up the path. Gutty and Finn. They skid to a stop beside Hugh’s body. Blink. Look at him in stunned surprise, ask some question of each other with a glance. Look from the body, to her, then back to each other. They take turns shaking their heads.

Gutty looks angry.

Finn looks scared.

“Who did this to him?” Grace asks the shepherd.

“A MacMahon raiding party was seen in that field yesterday. Three men, all with bows and swords.”

“Are they still on Achill?”

“Their tracks went north, into the mountains. We only followed them far enough to be sure the herds were safe.”

“Then they’ve gone back to Doona?”

“That’s what we assume.”

Grace nods for a moment, thinking, then says, “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Shuffling feet. Murmurs of condolence. And then the shepherds are gone, back to the dock and the currach they’ve borrowed to bring this grim news.

Grace feels Finn move to her elbow.

“What will you do?” he asks.

“Bury him. Then sail for Blacksod Bay.”

“You mean to kill them?”

“I intend to sack Doona Castle, Finn. I am tired of having things taken from me.”

“He was yours, was he?”