“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 love 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 mat 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 bom, 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 Cristas. 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 mat 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 mat 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?”

“Dammit, de Marisco, you make me feel like a green boy with his first love. But anytime you think I’m not big enough to take you on, give me a try. Little man, indeed! Give me your hand, you damned Englishman! I’m forced to admit that I like you.” If only Skye could have seen them standing there grinning at each other, both in love with her and now both united in friendship in an effort to aid her! The two men clasped hands and two pairs of eyes, one silvery gray, the other smoky blue, met in a gaze of understanding.

“We’ll need one other man to help, and Robert Small can do it.

He’d never forgive me if we excluded htm. He can read some Arabic. Maybe he can decipher enough of the log before we present it to Cecil. At least we’ll know if the book contradicts our story. He’s just back home. His sister sent me word today and I sent back a message asking him to come to Lynmouth. Can you have that ship taken in tow to Lynmouth Bay? It’s best no one else know what we’re planning.”

“I’ll give orders at once. My mute brothers can do the job nicely,” answered de Marisco.

“What of the bodies?”

“They stink like the very devil,” observed Adam, “but I’m leaving mem aboard to give credence to our tale. Otherwise Cecil will say we made the whole thing up.”

“How will we explain the time lapse? It’s been months since the Santa Maria Madre de Cristas was taken. Where the hell has this ship been in the meantime?”

“Why she’s been a-pirating, Niall Burke! The wily infidels have been off across the sea pirating the waters of New Spain. She must have taken the Santa Maria on her way out last spring. We all know how the Moors hate the Spaniards, and cannot resist the opportunity to strike out at them.” He chuckled richly. “It’s a damn good story if I do say so myself!”

“Aye,” agreed Niall admiringly. “I’m thinking you’re wasted on your island, de Marisco. Court is obviously the place for you!” “Christ, no! I’d die penned up in that putrid city playing the gallant to that vain bitch, Bessie Tudor! Wasting my time, and my money on useless clothes, cards, and highborn, high-priced doxies. Give me Lundy, barren rock that it is, and the sea, and I’m a happy man.”