“I’m for going on tonight,” said Niall. “We can rent fresh horses here, and exchange them for ours another time. I’d rather spend a few more wet hours on the road and then sleep in a clean bed, free of the fear of being robbed.”

His two companions nodded and Robbie noted, “You’re apt to be recognized here, Niall. We’re too close to London to suit me.” So after supper they rode on through the rainy, windswept night, finally arriving at Greenwood at two o’clock in the morning. Niall had thought it best not to stay at Lynmouth House, for fear of drawing notice. The startled gatekeeper let them in, recognizing Robbie.

Niall cautioned the old man that he was not to speak to anyone of their arrival. If asked, he was to deny that they had been there. The lady Skye’s life depended upon it. The gatekeeper looked to Robbie for confirmation. He nodded solemnly.

The sleepy house servants were confused, but as easily reassured by Robert Small. The maidservants scurried about preparing three bedchambers and laying fires. Three tall oak tubs were set up by the fire in the kitchen and the three men soaked the chill from their bones. The motherly housekeeper prepared a hot mulled wine punch and served sliced ham on warm bread. Clean, dry, wrapped in dressing gowns that had belonged to the late Lord Southwood, the three sat at the table eating, drinking, and talking.

When their beds were ready they went quickly to their bedrooms. Niall was grateful that the sheets had been warmed, but as he lay there, strangely wakeful, he knew it was a different warmth he needed. His body ached for a woman. No, not a woman. Skye. Since she had left the previous autumn he had remained totally faithful. Caught up in the business of running her estates, caring for her children, and trying to free her, he hadn’t had time to serve his own needs.

In the morning he and Robbie and de Marisco would force the issue with Cecil and the Queen. Niall wanted his wife and child back! The child! Was it the boy that his father and he had wanted for so long? He’d know in a few hours. Niall sighed deeply and suddenly he was asleep.

The sun was up when he awoke and immediately yanked the bellpull. Shortly a little maid appeared with hot water for washing. “Are Sir Robert and Lord de Marisco awake yet?” he asked. “Just, m’lord,” she bobbed a curtsey. “Your bells rang within minutes of each other.”

“Have the clothes I brought in my saddlebags been freshened?”

“Aye, m’lord. I’ll bring them right up.”

He washed and then dressed carefully. His clothes, selected shrewdly for this occasion, were rich, but subdued. His shirt was the purest white silk, his doublet of deep-blue velvet, embroidered discreetly in silver. His hose were striped silver and blue. And he wore a heavy silver chain with a silver and sapphire pendant. Smooth-shaven, his jaw showed a strong determination that William Cecil would find hard to miss.

Niall broke his fast in his room with fresh bread, cheese, and ale. He then joined de Marisco and Robbie. Walking to the bottom of the garden, they hailed a waterman for the trip down the river to Greenwich Palace, where the Queen was currently in residence. Niall kept his cloak wrapped well about him, obscuring his features. The rain had stopped, but the day remained gray and threatening. They arrived at Greenwich and, disembarking, hurried into the palace. Luck was with them: Cecil had not yet arrived in his closet, and on duty was only one young secretary who failed to recognize any of the three. When the chancellor arrived in his long, furred black velvet robe, he was immediately surrounded by the three men and borne off to his private-rooms.

Unafraid, Lord Burghley settled himself comfortably at his desk and said to the anxious secretary, “I am not to be disturbed, Master Morgan.” The secretary bowed out, and Cecil turned to his three visitors. He eyed them dispassionately, then spoke. “My lord Burke, I distinctly remember forbidding you London.”

“I’ve come to bring my wife and child home, m’lord. You have had Lady Burke here almost six months and I’ve not yet been informed of the charges against her.”

“She is under suspicion, my lord.”

“For six months? And of what?”

“Piracy,” was the cool reply.

“What! You’re mad, man!”

“Niall, Niall!” Robbie spoke. “Cecil, my friend, be reasonable. Lady Burke is a beautiful woman who, I’ve no doubt, has stolen many hearts. But ships? I think not. Proof?”

Cecil frowned and Robbie almost shouted with glee. They still had no proof! “I will be frank with you, Cecil. I thought piracy was your suspicion, because of the O’Malley ships. Poor Niall refuses to see the logic of it.”

“And you do?” said Cecil.

“Indeed I do. The O’Malley of Innisfana has access to ships and a knowledge of shipping lanes and schedules. Add to that her isolated coastal castle, and you have all the ingredients for piracy-except, of course, one important one.”

“What is missing, Sir Robert?” Cecil was fascinated.

“Motive, my lord,” said Robbie. “Where is Lady Burke’s motive?

She is already one of the wealthiest women in England, possibly the wealthiest, and she is not greedy for more riches. Everyone knows her to be generous and charitable. She is not a seeker of thrills. So why would she risk her son’s inheritance and her own position, by breaking the Queen’s law? Above all things, my dear Cecil, Skye is a good mother.

“No… there are no grounds for your suspicions, nor justification for holding her. None besides Bess Tudor’s jealous spite, and you know it, Cecil.”

Cecil looked both annoyed and uncomfortable. “The piracies ceased with Lady Burke’s arrest,” he said.

Niall’s look was as black as a storm cloud, but Robert Small put a steadying hand on him. “The piracies stopped over a year ago, more than six months before you arrested Lady Burke.” “The Santa Maria Madre de Cristas was taken off Ireland late last spring!”

“But not by Lady Burke,” replied Robbie, “for she was but newly married and on her honeymoon. The Spaniard was taken by Barbary pirates, and we have the proof. Cecil, this giant who’s accompanied Lord Burke and me is Adam de Marisco, the lord of Lundy Island.” Cecil began to look interested. “Well over a month ago de Marisco found a ghost ship floating off his island. Naturally he claimed it for salvage.”

“Oh, naturally,” murmured Cecil.

Robbie ignored the sarcasm and continued with his story. “When de Marisco opened the hold of the ship and saw the treasure within. he realized the implications at once. He went immediately to Lord Burke, and Niall sent for me. The ship’s log is in Arabic, of which I have some small knowledge. There is an entry made early last summer that coincides with the date of the piracy of the Santa Maria. The entry reads: Took a cursed Spaniard today.’ This was obviously the ship that captured the Santa Maria’s cargo. It was on its way to the New World to go a-pirating, which it did. There are entries disclosing a transfer of cargo between the Moor’s ship, which is called the Gazelle, and another Barbary ship.

“The bulk of King Philip’s goods were being sold in the markets of Algiers before word even reached London that the treasure was gone. We found only some of King Philip’s treasure cargo aboard the Gazelle, as well as cargo from other ships. These were among the stores. I am sure the manifest that the Spanish ambassador gave you lists these items.” He pulled a velvet bag from his doublet and, opening it, poured a stream of unset green emeralds upon Cecil’s desk.

The chancellor gaped openmouthed at the flashing blue-green fire that lay blazing before him. For a moment the silence was thick, then Cecil found his voice. “Where is the crew of this ship, my lord de Marisco? You can hardly expect me to believe this fairy tale of an empty ship floating conveniently off your island.” “The crew of the Gazelle are still aboard her-in various stages of decomposition, my lord,” replied Adam. “I would have buried the poor bastards, but Robbie said you’d not believe us unless you saw them, and I can see that he was right.” He shook his huge head, disappointed in human nature.

“Where is this ship?” William Cecil croaked.

De Marisco smiled broadly, a wicked smile, his teeth blinding white against his wind-bronzed skin and black beard. Cecil had not noted until now that the giant wore a gold earring. His black hair was shaggy, and his smoky blue eyes mocked in a way that made the Queen’s chancellor lower his gaze.

‘The Gazelle lies under tow by Robbie’s Mermaid in the Pool, m’lord. You are free to remove the cargo and to inspect the bodies before we sink her. The log didn’t disclose what killed her crew, and anyhow, she’ll be considered a bad-luck ship now. She’s best off at the bottom of the sea with her men.”

Cecil was incredulous. “D’you mean there’s a ship of dead men in the Pool? Christ’s bones! They might be carrying the plague! Are you mad?”

‘They didn’t die of plague,” stated Robbie calmly. “More likely a passing sickness brought aboard by some shipwreck victims they rescued.”

“But a ship of rotting bodies? Here in London?”

“You were ready to disbelieve me without the bodies, Cecil. I’ve brought the log along too. You may be able to find someone here in London who can speak Arabic, and read it, and thus corroborate our story.”

Cecil looked sourly at the three men, determined to find someone who could read Arabic. Still, he knew that if Robert Small seemed this confident he must be sure of his story. But Cecil was suspicious. There was something just too convenient about the tale. “We’ll take you to the Pool ourselves, Cecil,” said Lord Burke, “and then perhaps you’ll give me back my wife and my child. By the way, I’d be interested in knowing whether I have a son or a daughter.”

“A daughter,” said Cecil absently. “I’ll have to inform the Queen about this interesting turn of events. Very well, we’ll go aboard the Gazelle to inspect her. Where are you staying?”

“A daughter!” Niall exulted, feeling no disappointment at all.

“I have a daughter!”

“We’re at Greenwood,” said Robbie, “Skye’s small residence next to Lynmouth House. We felt it was a bit more discreet.” Cecil nodded, glad they had considered that.

“I want to see my wife and my daughter,” said Niall.

“In time, my lord. In the Queen’s good time.”

“For God’s sake, Cecil, have you no pity in you?” “My lord! You are forbidden London, and yet you came. You’re in no position to ask me for anything. Await my word on this matter Greenwood and be thankful that I haven’t ordered your arrest. and please avoid being seen. Master Morgan!”

The secretary nearly fell through the door.

“Master Morgan, show these gentlemen out through my private entrance.”

They were dismissed, and Cecil was once more in control of the situation. Robbie could see that Niall wanted to argue. He looked to de Marisco, and Adam clamped a firm hand on Lord Burke’s shoulder. “Come on, man,” said Adam gently. Niall sighed, an angry, frustrated sigh, but he nodded and followed Robbie out of Cecil’s closet.

In the tower, Skye had awakened with a sense of hopeless futility. she relieved herself in the chamberpot, and then, picking up Deirdre, changed her wet napkin. Climbing back into bed with her daughter, Skye put her to her breast. They would question her again today as they had been questioning her nearly every day for the last month and she would fight them again today as she had been fighting them for the last month. She would ask for a list of the charges against her, demand her immediate release, and say nothing more. Dudley had been removed from the council, but the Earl of Shrewsbury fightened her with his cold eyes and exaggeratedly polite ways. Deirdre suckled noisily, smacking her little lips with pleasure, and Skye smiled down at the baby. Gently she rubbed the little head with its silky dark curls. Yesterday they had threatened to take the baby away from her. She had stared at them in stony silence, refusing even to acknowledge the threat, but she knew she would have to and Deirdre down to Devon with Eibhlin very soon. Dearest Eibhilin! She had imprisoned herself with Skye, never once leaving the tower for fear of not being allowed back inside. Recently even Daisy had ceased her trips to the city markets when Lady Alyce had sent a warning that if she left, she’d not be allowed to return. Now Dudley, though removed from the council, was sniffing about the Tower like a wolf after a staked goat, and Skye was genuinely frightened. She was the Queen’s prisoner, and helpless Elizabeth’s favorite chose to assault her. The baby hiccoughed, Skye patted her back. I will not be beaten, she thought. I won’t! At Greenwood Niall Burke paced helplessly. Outside the rain drizzled softly, pale gray dripping into the darker gray river. Along the river banks the yellow willows had begun to send forth their pale green leaves, but the rain showed no signs of letting up. The graceful trees reminded Niall of his stepdaughter.