Page 31 of The Pirate Queen

“Up with you,” he says, swooping the child onto his shoulders. “Jaysus, has he got rocks in his pockets again? Heavy as stone, this one.”

“They weigh twice as much when they’re asleep,” she says, adjusting Margaret so she can hold on to the girl—not yet two—with both arms. Her little head bobbles and her eyes flutter as she tries to wake.

“Why not leave them in bed? We’ve an hour yet to reach Moycullen. Still have to make the passage up the River Corrib and into the lough.”

Gráinne laughs and it thrills him, though he doesn’t know what he’s done to please her. The young O’Flaherty might be chieftain, but all who live at Bunowen Castle look to Gráinne first and seek her approval more.

“Their father wants them to see the city,” she tells him.

He snorts as Eóin’s body goes limp again, his small head settling onto Gutty’s. “All they can see is the back of their eyelids.”

“Indeed.” She looks away for a moment, clearing some expression from her face before turning back to him. “But it seems you’ve become a sailor today?”

“Might as well be of use.”

“Tell me, then, what have you learned so far?”

They stand near the gunwale, and he looks up toward the cabin deck, on instinct, to make sure that the chieftain isn’t within earshot. “You’re a better captain,” he mutters.

“One day on deck and you fancy yourself an expert?”

“I know enough to see when a crew believes their captain is calling the right orders. When a captain shows the sandbanks and tidal currents a proper respect.”

Gráinne’s head tilts to the side and her eyes tighten. Curious, not angry, he thinks.

“That was a long time ago,” she says, “a different crew. And my husband does not know that part of me, regardless.”

“He doesn’t know that you sail?”

“That is not a trait he values in a wife.” She pats Margaret’s head. “I have given him the only thing that he wants from me.”

And what should Gutty say to that? It is well known that O’Flaherty and Gráinne care for each other only to the point of duty.

He clears his throat. “Well. If I ever had a ship, and a wife that could sail one, I know exactly what I would do.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nods. “Been thinking about it since we went by the Aran Islands.”

This is what he likes about the Bean an Tí. She doesn’t treat him like a boy of sixteen. Or a servant. Or an orphan. Or any of the other things that he takes a beating from the guards about. She lets him ask questions. And she lets him talk. Now she just looks at him, waiting for him to continue.

“We didn’t face any trouble near those islands,” he says.

“Why should we?”

“Because it seems to me that all those British and Spanish ships”—he points to the dozens that lie anchored in the harbor—“should be paying for right of passage into Galway. And it seems that it would be easy enough to charge them for that right.” He shrugs. “If I had control over those islands, I’d make them pay that fee at the point of a sword.”

“Piracy?”

“The English call it privateering, when it’s done in the name of their king.”

“They’ve a queen now. Her name is Mary.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’ll be gone and another will come and another one after that. Kings or queens, ’tis all the same. They make rules that suit themselves.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Gutty. Bloodlines matter, same as Ireland. And of course the church puts its nose in as well. But I see your point about the piracy.”

Little Eóin sits heavy on his shoulders now, so he slides the boy onto his back. Gutty holds him up by the arms and can feel Eóin’s legs dangle behind him.