Young Writers Society

"My Lord?"

Sir John Perrot, Lord Deputy of Ireland, looked up from his desk.

"We've got him."

Sir John Perrot dismissed his adjutant with a nod. He was still puzzling over his situation, and his continued favour with Queen Elizabeth relied on the pacification of Ireland.

Rebellion had broken out in Her Majesty's Irish territories, and England needed the land to secure their status as a great power. Being surrounded by a hostile Ireland, hostile Scotland, and an eternally hostile continent would not be acceptable. Unfortunately, the various barbarian chiefs who fancied themselves princes continued to resist English dominance. Sour relations with their Scottish neighbors, combined with England's natural enmity with Spain and France meant that they would have no allies in their struggle for control.

Still, the Irish rulers did not pose a critical threat. Their combined might may be a problem, but individually, they would be most easy to subdue.

The most pristine example of that would be the teenaged Hugh Roe O'Donnell. In theory, the would-be Prince of Donegal would be the prime threat. Unlike his bearded allies, O'Donnell was clean-shaven, handsome and youthful. He possessed a quick wit and hardened physical stamina that would be invaluable as a soldier.

The only problem for the Irish was that O'Donnell was a newly acquired captive of the proud Englishman. The warrior prince was no more, he was now a hapless teenager. Even better, the young Hugh may yet be beneficial towards Elizabeth's designs. Cooperation from the most prominent of the Irish leaders would shorten the conflict and save much bloodshed.

Sadly, teenagers had a reputation for stubbornness, and his queen would not forgive him for failure.

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Hugh Roe O'Donnell, eternally prideful and brave soldier, kept his stare forward as he was led into the dungeon. Ever since he was taken, Hugh had staunchly refused to utter a single word. For the most part, the English refrained from asking him questions or doing anything that would have necessitated a verbal response.

His captors didn't even deign to inform him where he had been taken. Much of his journey was spent blindfolded, and it was only now that it was removed. His personal equipment was all taken away, even his Catechism, a personal gift from Friar Thomas.

Another item they felt fit to take was Hugh's boots. Perhaps they felt a lack of footwear would sabotage any escape attempt? Whatever the reason, the Irish prince had spent the last hour shoeless ( or bootless rather). Hugh had known the feel of his comfortable boots for so long, his feet were embarrassingly smooth and sensitive. His first step on the dark and damp dungeon was somewhat of a shock, and walking barefoot on the cold floor was surprisingly arduous.

That would be nothing compared to whatever pain and humiliation they had in mind.Jeers from the English officials?A flogging in the dungeon?

They shall not know pleasure from my pain.

Whatever it was, he would take it in stride and deny them the satisfaction.