“She can do nothing without proof!” maintained Skye stubbornly.
“She needs no proof to keep you here,” repeated Eibhlin. “What we must do now is convince her to her satisfaction that you are not guilty.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet. I must pray on it.”
Skye laughed. “It will take a powerful prayer, Eibhlin. Go to sleep. My conscience is as clear as an innocent babe’s.” And so saying, she tied the ribbons of her lace-edged lawn night cap firmly beneath her chin and, lying back, quickly fell asleep.
Eibhlin, however, lay awake thinking. Skye was right. The Queen had presented no formal charges of piracy against the Countess of Lynmouth, which meant that she indeed had no proof. But until she was convinced that Skye had had no part in the piracy, she would hold her prisoner, though she dared not act openly against her. It was a standoff.
The following morning as Skye was finishing her daily exercise period on the battlements, a captain of the guards stepped up to her. “Good morning, my lady. I am to escort you to Lord Cecil.”
“Very well,” said Skye, her heart quickening. So at last they were going to question her. She was looking forward to the challenge of pitting her wits against Cecil’s. She followed the guardsman through a maze of corridors until, finally, he ushered her into a paneled room with a small oriel window that overlooked the Thames. Seated at a long table were Cecil, Dudley, and two other men. She believed one was the Earl of Shrewsbury, the other Lord Cavendish. Seeing no chair for her, she said icily, “You surely do not expect a woman in my condition to stand, my lords?”
“Please remember that you are a prisoner here, madam,” said Lord Dudley meanly.
“And,” continued Skye, “unless that man is removed I shall leave this minute, Lord Burghley.”
“Please bring a chair for Lady Burke,” ordered Cecil. “Dudley, be silent.”
“I hope,” remarked Skye boldly as she settled herself with much display, “that you’ll be good enough to explain the meaning of my imprisonment. I have been kept in total ignorance for weeks now, and I am beginning to find this situation quite intolerable.”
A grim smile touched the corners of Cecil’s mouth. “We were desirous of speaking with you in regard to the recent piracies occurring in Devon.”
Skye raised an elegantly winged eyebrow. “If you wished to speak to me, sir, why did you not simply do so? Was it necessary to imprison me? I am well aware of the piracy. I lost two ships last year myself. I regret to say that the Queen’s commission could not find the perpetrators. A fine penny it cost me!”
“You do not seem to have suffered overmuch financially,” remarked Cecil.
“I am a very rich woman, as you are well aware, my lord Burghley. Nevertheless I dislike losing money. My ships must be properly maintained, my captains and their men paid. They, in turn, feed the economy. It is a satisfactory circle which is broken when the spectre of piracy arises.”
“Clever, madam, but not clever enough to fool us,” snarled Dudley.
Skye turned her cool gaze on Robert Dudley. “You have grown paunchy with too much good living, my lord, but your brain is just as soft as ever. “The Earl of Leicester grew beet-red, and though his mouth opened and shut several times, no words issued forth.
Shrewsbury and Cavendish snickered, and Cecil himself was hard pressed not to laugh. His turn, however, was coming.
“If, my lords, you have formal charges to place against me, then do so! If not then release me, for you hold me illegally.” She then spoke directly to Cecil. “Lord Burghley, you insult me greatly by asking me to come before this panel. I will not appear before you again without formal charges, nor will I at any time come before any group of which Lord Dudley is a part. And you need not ask me why because you know why.” She stood, turned, and walked to the door.
“Stop her!” shouted Dudley to the guardsmen.
Skye whirled, surprisingly graceful despite her girth. Her deep-blue eyes blazed with contempt. She placed her hands protectively over her belly and said fiercely, “I carry within me the heir to the MacWilliam. Lay rough hands upon me and harm that child, and even my pleas will not be able to stop the flame that will ignite all Ireland! If the Queen wishes war with my people, we will be happy to oblige her!” Then she turned again and left the room, unopposed.
“Why didn’t you stop the little Irish bitch?” demanded Dudley of Cecil. “Who cares if her cub strangles on its own cord?”
“My lord,” said Cecil evenly, “you sit on this panel because the Queen requested it and I am, in all things, the Queen’s loyal servant. You were not my choice, however, and I shall ask Her Majesty to reconsider her request. I agree with Lady Burke. You are offensive. Gentlemen, you are dismissed until the same hour tomorrow when we shall again attempt to question the Countess of Lynmouth.”
It was not to be, however, for Skye had felt the first pangs of labor as she made her exit. Slowly, gritting her teeth against the pain, she followed the guardsman back through a maze of corridors, almost fainting as she climbed the stairs all the way back up to her tower, forcing her legs to climb again and again, though they were leaden and she could hardly lift them. Nearing the top, she groaned and sat down heavily.
Startled, the young captain of the guard turned. “My lady!” he cried. He leaped back down the steps. Supporting her with his strong arm, he helped her up the last few steps to her apartment, shouting for aid as he went. The door was flung open and both Eibhlin and Daisy hurried out to take Skye from the captain.
“D’you need anything?” he asked worriedly.
Eibhlin smiled reassuringly at the young man. “No, thank you, Captain. We have everything we need. I would, however, inform the Tower governor that Lady Burke has gone into premature labor.” She lowered her voice to a whisper easily audible to both Skye and Daisy. “I hope we don’t lose them both. All this nonsense of arresting my poor sister, and what are the charges, Captain? There are none! Well, thank you for your aid. You’re a good Christian lad, and I’ll pray for you.” Then she shut the door firmly between them and the guard.
“Oh, Eibhlin!” Skye was laughing between contractions. “You’re the most unholy nun I’ve ever met! You terrified that poor, nice young guardsman. Now he’ll run all the way to Sir John, and tell him I’m at death’s door.”
“Good! We’ll make them all feel guilty,” crowed Eibhlin as she and Daisy helped Skye undress. “What did Cecil want?”
“Me to confess to piracy. It’s as I thought. They have no proof.” She winced as a wave of pain rolled over her. Suddenly her waters broke, flooding into a puddle at her feet. “Eibhlin! I think this child is going to be born right now!”
“Daisy! Quick, lass, drag the table in front of the fireplace.”
Daisy struggled with the long oak table, grunting as she fought to push it across the room.
“Eibhlin! Help her! I can stand alone.”
Together the two women swung the oak board around before the blazing stone fireplace. Then Daisy ran upstairs to Skye’s bedchamber and came back down with the goose-down pillows, a pad, and a sheet that she and Eibhlin placed on the table. They then helped Skye up onto the table, and she half sat with her legs spread, the pillows propping her shoulders as she labored. Eibhlin washed her slender, strangely elegant hands in the basin that Daisy provided. Some weeks before, the nun had instructed Daisy concerning her birthing-room duties and now Daisy performed without fault.
The nun-midwife leaned down to examine her patient. “Holy Mary! The child is half-born,” she exclaimed. Reaching out, she carefully turned the slippery infant.
“I—told—you,” gasped Skye as a final contraction racked her. And then the child, fully born, began to squall loudly. “Is—he—all right? All his fingers—and toes?”
Eibhlin swiftly wiped the baby off and gazed down at the tiny face. “She’s fine, Skye! All her fingers and toes!”
“She? Oh, damn!” Then Skye laughed weakly. “Willow will l
ove having a little sister, and I am happy to have another daughter, but the MacWilliam is going to be very disappointed.”
“You’ll have others,” remarked Eibhlin drily.
Skye sent Eibhlin an amused look, thinking how good it was to have her matter-of-fact big sister with her. How long, she wondered, would the Queen allow Eibhlin to stay now that the child was born? A thunderous knocking began on the door.
“Quick, Daisy, tell whoever it is that they can’t come in,” directed Eibhlin.
Daisy ran to the door and opened it a crack. “You can’t come in,” she said to Sir John, the Tower governor. “My lady is having her baby.”
“I’ve brought my wife to help you,” said Sir John, and before Daisy could prevent it Lady Alyce pushed into the room and hurried over to where Skye lay. Seeing the newly born infant on its mother’s stomach, Lady Alyce’s eyes twinkled conspiratorially. Bending down, she whispered, “Groan loudly, my dear.” Understanding filled Skye’s eyes and she groaned long and piteously. “Oh dear,” cried Lady Alyce, running back to her husband, who waited patiently at the door. “It will be hours, John. You’d best go along. I will come back when I’ve news. Close the door, girl.”
Daisy gladly complied, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. The Tower governor’s wife laughed softly and smiled down at Skye. “There, my dear, that should give you peace for a little while longer. Besides, it never does to let men know that having babies can sometimes be easy.”
“Thank you, madam. I’ve never had a baby so quickly. Each one comes faster than the previous one.”
“How many have you had, my dear?”
“This child is my sixth, but it’s my second daughter.”
“Oh, a little girl! I had a little girl once.… She would have been fourteen this past Whitsun. She died of the white throat, eight years ago. Her name was Linaet.”
“I lost my late husband and our youngest son the same way,” said Skye.
The two women fell silent, then Lady Alyce asked, “What will you call this babe, Lady Burke?”
“Deirdre.”
“Skye!” cried Eibhlin. “Deirdre’s fate was a tragic one.”
“She was held prisoner by her King. My innocent child is being held prisoner by her Queen. She was born in captivity, in a most infamous place, Eibhlin. The name is fitting. And as I have not the comfort of a priest, you must baptize my daughter, dear sister.”
Lady Alyce looked troubled. “Why are you here, my dear?” she asked.
Daisy took Deirdre from Skye and began cleaning and dressing her. Eibhlin cleaned her sister free of all traces of the birth. Skye explained to the kindly older woman. “No one has told me why I am here, madam. No charges have been leveled against me. I hoped …” she hesitated, “that your husband might know.”
“Alas, my dear, no! Oh, I wish I could help,” she cried. “It seems so unfair.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Lady Alyce. We Irish are used to being misunderstood and mistreated,” said Skye sweetly.
“Well, at least I can stay here for a few hours,” said the Tower Governor’s wife. “If they think the child is being born, they’ll leave you be. Later, having been witness to such a hard birth, I will of course advise my husband that your sister must stay a month or two if you and your poor weak infant are to survive.”
Skye smiled. “You’re a true friend, ma’am. But do nothing to endanger yourself or Sir John with the Queen. The Tudors, I have found, can be most unkind even to their friends. I have learned this first hand.”
“What does the Queen know of the Tower except whatever my husband tells her?” replied the good lady. And she plumped herself down in a comfortable chair before the fire. “I understand, Lady Burke, that you’ve the best malmsey in England. I am mighty partial to malmsey.”
The following morning Lady Alyce informed her husband that the poor, imprisoned Lady Burke had managed, though the dear Lord only knew how, to give birth to a wee girl child. “Both she and the little lass are very weak, and will need constant nursing for the next few months if they are to survive,” said Lady Alyce firmly. Her husband recognized her mood. She would brook no interference.
“My dear,” he said mildly, “it is all right with me if Lady Burke’s sister remains with her, but the final decision is not mine to make.”
“You have some influence, John. Use it! I don’t understand what the Queen is about imprisoning poor Lady Burke, and without charges.”
“Hush, my dear! I can see that our distinguished guest has made a conquest of you, but we must trust that the Queen and Lord Burghley know what they are doing. I will send word now to the Queen.”
Elizabeth had been having one of her infrequent and painful menstrual flows when word was brought to her of Lady Deirdre Burke’s birth. “God’s nightshirt,” she swore irritably, “she has done it deliberately!”
“Done what, madam?” said Cecil.
“Had her child in the Tower! The tone of Sir John’s missive is quite sympathetic to Lady Burke, and I am not sure I like it! Why should he sound faintly disapproving of me, and tenderly concerned for that … Irish rebel?”
“New mothers and their infants always have a tendency to evoke sympathy from those around them,” Cecil soothed.
Elizabeth turned around, her lovely, long, red-gold hair swinging with her. Her face was white and pinched with pain. “You’ll not be able to question her for several weeks now! Damn! I wanted her exposed for the pirate bitch she is! D’you know that she threw Dudley out of her castle into the middle of a snowstorm last winter?”
Ho! thought Cecil, so that’s the reason behind this vendetta. Precious Lord Robert has been offended. Little did I think when I sought to get at the truth of the Devon pirates, that I should give Dudley an opportunity for revenge. I must think on this. He smiled at the Queen in a kindly fashion. “Come, my dear, back into bed with you. You’re not well, and this matter will wait. You’re perfectly right. We’ll not be able to pursue the matter until Lady Burke has recovered from the birth of her daughter. Sir John’s wife, Lady Alyce, was present at the birth and says it was a hard one. I imagine it will take Lady Burke several weeks to recover.”
Elizabeth climbed back into her bed, and drew the velvet coverlet up about her. “Oh, Cecil!” she wailed. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if I’d been born a simple maid. The mantle of royalty weighs so heavily upon me, and I am but a frail creature!”
“Nay, madam, you but look frail. But when you sprang forth from your mother’s womb, of Henry Tudor’s strong seed, you had the heart of a lion. You need have no fear of your ability.”
Elizabeth sighed, “Oh, Cecil, you are my strength. I will rest now.” She closed her eyes. “I will leave you to handle Lady Burke as you see fit.”
William Cecil smiled his wintry smile. “I will not fail you, madam.”
“You never have, old friend,” said the Queen softly as she fell asleep.
CHAPTER 25
ADAM DE MARISCO COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS INCREDIBLE luck. For several months now, ever since he’d been summoned to Lynmouth to learn of Skye’s fate, he had felt helpless, useless, weak. Now he had the means to free her, and it was God’s own good fortune that had brought it to him. The idea of how to utilize this chance, however, was de Marisco’s own, and having the idea had instantly restored Adam’s self-confidence. Now he greeted Lord Burke, welcoming him warmly to Lundy. The big Irishman had grown haggard with worry and lack of sleep.
De Marisco pushed a dram of peat whiskey into Niall’s hand. “Drink up, man. I know now how to bring her home safe.”
“How?” Lord Burke gulped the smoky amber liquid down, reveling in the burning sensation that spread upward from his belly and into his veins.
“There’s a well-hidden cove down by my lighthouse, and in that cove right now is a ship—a ship of dead men. The tidal currents around the end of the island are erratic and they drove the vessel ashore. It was found two days ago, floating half-beached in that
cove. I’ve already given orders that no one is to go near the ship, and I’ve already placed in its holds my share of the booty from the Santa Maria Madre de Cristos. The men who carried the cargo to the holds for me are a family of mutes. I’ve always seen to their welfare and, as they are grateful, they will never give me away. They wouldn’t even if they could talk.
“This ship is of English design, yet the bodies aboard her appear to be Arab or Moorish. I will wager they are Barbary pirates. What killed them I know not, but if we can take the ship in tow and bring it up to London, I believe we can convince Cecil that these unfortunate dead men are part of whoever was responsible for the recent piracies. Especially considering what they’ll find in the hold. That should free Skye!”
Niall Burke’s face began to relax itself as he digested de Marisco’s idea. “It’s possible!” He thought a moment. “Did you find a log on board?”
“Yes, but it’s all in a funny kind of scrawl that bears no resemblance to any writing I’ve ever seen.”
A slow smile lit Niall’s face, crinkling the corners of his silvery eyes. “It’s probably Arabic, and you’re probably right, de Marisco! They’re Barbary pirates! We do have one problem, though. We can’t destroy the log. It would be very suspicious if no log were aboard. But if Cecil finds someone who reads Arabic the log might prove that this is not a pirate ship. We must have that log read.”
“Who the hell do you know who reads Arabic?” demanded de Marisco. He was beginning to lose confidence.
“Skye does,” answered Niall, laughing.
“Damme! Is there nothing that woman can’t do?”
“I am reassured to learn that you don’t know the answer to that, de Marisco,” said Niall, suddenly serious.
Adam de Marisco topped Niall Burke by at least two inches. He drew himself up now and, looking down on Skye’s husband, said, “Little man, I believe it’s time we cleared the air. Yes! I loved her, and possibly I always will. I was not, however, the husband for her. I knew that, and as proud as I would have been to be her husband …” His words faded, and for a moment there was total understanding between them, and then Adam de Marisco finished, “She loves you, and you are a fool if you’d believe I’d ever come between you. Now, little man, can we get on with the business of retrieving Skye from Elizabeth Tudor?”
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