Skye O'Malley: A Love For All Time Part 23

"None of the three have been seen since the night that Lady Bliss disappeared," said William Cecil.

"Three? There was a third person? Who was he?"

"The innkeeper at the Swan said he claimed to be a Frenchman, but that he had the dark look of Spain about him. Our agents have only discovered that the ex-Spanish agent, Antonio de Guaras, has a brother, Miguel, now in England. We believe that he and Master FitzGerald are involved, and warrants have been issued for both."

"But why this elaborate charade of a plot?" fussed Skye. "The Spanish * would not help the b.a.s.t.a.r.d get of an Irish priest simply out of the kindness of their hearts. I wonder . . ." She stopped for a long moment considering, and Lord Burghley smiled to himself. He could almost see her facile mind working. "My O'Malley half-brothers," Skye began again, "have harried Spain hard in the new world. They have captured more of the dons' rich galleons, and brought more treasure to England than Drake and Hawkins combined. It is possible this plot was devised in order to stop them? If England had executed Conn, would his brothers have been willing to enrich England's queen?"

"You make a good point, madame," William Cecil answered her, "and it is entirely possible, but I am satisfied that there was no plot against the queen, and that yer brother is quite innocent of any wrongdoing. That is the only thing that matters to me. If the Spanish have a grudge against ye and yers, Lady de Marisco, that is yer problem, and not the queen's."

"While that is comforting, my lord," said Skye, her voice edged in sarcasm, "it does not tell us what happened to Lady Bliss. Have any bodies washed up from the river that could not be identified?"

"No, Lady de Marisco," came the answer.

"What s.h.i.+ps sailed that night from the London pool?" asked Skye.

"s.h.i.+ps? Why I do not know, madame. Do ye think that Master FitzGerald might have kidnapped Lady Bliss? What on earth for? She told him that she was penniless."

"I don't know what for, my lord, but Aidan seems to have disappeared. No trace whatsoever can be found of her here. Therefore the possibility exists that we cannot find her because she isn't here. Ye've checked the werrymen up and down the river?"

"It is impossible to talk with all of them although we are trying, madame."

"Have ye offered a reward, my lord?"

"A reward?" Lord Burghley looked startled.

"It is the only sensible thing to do, my lord. Ye cannot go to all the werrymen, but offer a reward for information, and more than likely the werryman who took the three will come to us."

"Madame, I can no longer have anything to do with this matter personally. I must rejoin the queen at Long Medford where she is meeting with the French delegation with an eye toward marriage to the Duc d'Alencon. Yer family, however, will have the total cooperation of her majesty in yer search, and ye, madame, I will give leave to enter London if ye must, provided that her majesty is not there. Once this matter is resolved, however, yer banishment is restored until the queen lifts it."

"Ye are too kind, my lord Burghley," Skye said with a sweet smile that did not fool William Cecil for a moment. "We shall indeed deepen and intensify our search. So the queen seeks a French alliance again? The little due is but half her age, but a charming boy." Skye smiled again.

"Of all who know her, madame, myself excluded, I think ye know her better than any," said William Cecil.

"There will be no marriage," said Skye. "She seeks but a summer's diversion. She is growing old as we all are, and she is momentarily frightened. She longs for her youth. What good would a marriage do at her age, my lord? Certainly she is not capable of bearing children?"

"The physicians a.s.sure us she can," said Lord Burghley, "and I am not so certain this time that she is not serious about marrying. A legitimate heir of her body would end all these intrigues."

"I look to be amazed," said Skye dryly.

The faintest of smiles touched Lord Burghley's lips, and then was gone so quickly that neither Skye, nor Adam, nor Conn was certain it had ever really been there. William Cecil took his leave of them, and they knew that whatever had happened to Aidan, it was now up to them to find her. They would not be hindered, but neither would they really be helped in any way.

Several criers were hired, and they paraded up and down the riverside offering a reward for any werryman who could tell them whether he had taken three pa.s.sengers to a s.h.i.+p in the London pool on the night in late June. Adam had already contacted the portmaster, and obtained the information that five s.h.i.+ps had left the London pool the night of the twenty-fourth. Several weeks went by, weeks in which no information at all was obtained, and Conn began to lose weight with his worry. Each day the criers repeated their offer, and each day the reward was sought by several werrymen, but none had the right combination of pa.s.sengers, or the correct day, or had actually taken pa.s.sengers meeting the correct descriptions to any s.h.i.+p. Skye was beginning to wonder whether her quarry had left London at all, or if they had left it by land rather than by sea, to depart from another English port.

Finally one day when a month had gone by a werryman came to the door at Greenwood, and claiming to have the information they sought was admitted. Hat in hand he had knelt before Skye, but she had urged him up.

"Did ye listen carefully to the crier, man? Do ye know what it is we seek?"

"Aye, m'lady. I took a lady and two gentlemen to a s.h.i.+p in the London pool on the night of June twenty-fourth, and strange I thought it was at the time, but a man like me don't question his betters. One gentleman, he had a quick tongue he did, was Irish, I believe. The other, he didn't talk loud enough for me to really tell, but he was a foreigner, of that I'm certain."

"What of the lady?" said Skye.

"I couldn't really see her, but she was unconscious. Her husband, the Irish fellow, said that she was unused to fine wine, and had gotten drunk. When they took her aboard the s.h.i.+p her hood fell back, and I could see that she had red hair."

"It's Aidan!" said Conn excitedly.

"What s.h.i.+p?" asked Skye.

"It was called the Gazelle, my lady."

"It's on the list," said Adam. "It's a merchant vessel out of Algiers."

"Algiers?" both Skye and her brother exclaimed together.

"Do I get the reward, my lady?" the werryman asked hopefully.

"Aye," said Skye, "ye do for ye've earned it," and reaching into a casket upon the library table she drew out a purse, and handed it to him. -"Have ye got a family?" she asked.

"Aye, m'lady."

"Then give yer wife half of this before ye go out and get drunk," she ordered him with a smile.

His eyes widened slightly at the weight of the purse in his palm, and with a bob of his head he thanked her, and was gone.

"Why would Cavan take Aidan aboard a s.h.i.+p bound for Algiers?" said Conn.

"It is possible that the s.h.i.+p was putting into several ports before it reached Algiers, Conn," said Adam. "We must find out where the Gazelle was going before she reached Algiers, or if she was sailing straight for home."

"Why take Aidan at all?" wondered Skye aloud. "And who was the other man in Cavan FitzGerald's company? These are all questions that need to be answered. First let us find out if the Gazelle normally puts into London, and if it does perhaps we can learn something about its master."

They were not, of course, happy with what they learned. The Gazelle normally traveled between her home port of Algiers and London with no ports of call in between. Although she brought fruit and morocco leather goods and plain leather to England, and carried away wool and tin, it was rumored that her master, a renegade Spaniard named Ras.h.i.+d al Mansur, also traded in young and fair girls. It could not be proved, but innuendo was there. Further digging brought them the name of a brothel keeper who when visited was at first reluctant, but upon the payment of gold coin, admitted that she had sold several blond virgins to Ras.h.i.+d al Mansur, one just several weeks ago before he sailed.

"I don't understand," said Conn when they returned to Greenwood. "Aidan is neither blond, nor a virgin, nor very young, nor a beauty. Why did Cavan FitzGerald take her aboard a vessel bound for Algiers?"

They had no answers, and then a clerk from the trading warehouse owned by Skye and her business partner, Sir Robert Small, arrived at Greenwood one afternoon, asking to see Lady de Marisco. He was shown into her presence, and given leave to speak said, "One of the pigeons ye use as messengers arrived in the cote just a short while ago. It is not one of our usual birds, my lady, but when we removed its message we found it was addressed to ye. I was sent directly. Shall I await a reply?"

A p.r.i.c.kle of excitement went through Skye, and she said, "Tell me, what color was the bird?"

"Brown and white, my lady."

" 'Tis one of the birds Robbie and Khalid el Bey kept when they were in partners.h.i.+p so that they might never be out of touch with one another. The birds had a cote at our house which is now Osman's. What can Osman have to say to me? My ties are totally cut with Algiers now." She opened the message, and unfolded it carefully, smoothing the parchment free of its creases. Slowly her eyes traversed the writing upon the page, and then looking up she said to the waiting clerk, "There is no answer now, but keep the bird that brought this message in readiness. It is to be well fed, watered, and rested."

"Yes, m'lady," said the clerk, and he backed from the room.

"What is it?" demanded Adam de Marisco of his wife. '

"Aidan is in Algiers. She was brought in by our friend, Ras.h.i.+d al Mansur, and sold to the dey. He has sent her to Istanbul as a gift to the sultan. What a fool I am! Fair-haired and fair-skinned virgins are indeed prized in the East, but so too are women with fair skin, and red hair! But where are Cavan FitzGerald and his friend in all of this? We will have to go to Algiers!"

"Conn will have to go to Algiers," said Adam quietly. "Ye cannot go, Skye, and ye know it."

"Of course, I must go, Adam. I know Osman Bey, and I know the East."

"Ye are forbidden from leaving England right now, Skye, and I will not allow ye to jeopardize our entire family by running off again. Remember our daughter, Velvet, and what of the promise ye made to yer daughter Deirdre never to leave her again? Conn must go to Algiers to learn more of this, and he can go with Robbie who will be returning from Devon tomorrow. Robbie knows Algiers as well as ye do, and he also knows Osman. Yer brother is a man, and this is his problem. Yer no longer the O'Malley, little girl. Yer first responsibility now is to yer immediate family."

She bit her lip in vexation. "But, Adam, I want to help Conn!"

"Adam's right," said Conn speaking for the first time since his sister had read the message from Osman. "This isn't yer battle, Skye. It is mine. Aidan is my wife, and I am going to have to go to Algiers, and learn what this is all about, and then if she is gone I will go to Istanbul, or wherever, but I will find my wife, and I will bring her home. Our child, too."

Skye looked at her younger brother. "Sit down," she said. "We must talk. We must talk about the East, and how it treats its women, and the fact that Aidan may be forced by another man. How will ye feel, Conn, should ye find yer wife in the sultan's harem? Find Aidan the sultan's newest plaything? Will ye still love her? Will ye still want to bring her home?"

"For G.o.d's sake, Skye, what kind of thing is that to ask me?" he demanded.

"It is an honest thing, brother. By the time ye reach Aidan she will have been gone from ye many months. She wasn't a virgin. What if Ras.h.i.+d al Mansur, the sea captain, availed himself of her? It could have happened. The fact that she was newly with child would not have deterred him should he have desired her. What if she catches the sultan's fancy? What will ye do? How will ye feel?"

"I love Aidan," he answered her. "If other men have used her I know it will not have been with her consent. How can I hold her responsible, Skye? I'd rather she'd submit than kill herself in shame. I want my wife back! I'll go where I have to go; do what I have to do; but I will bring Aidan back home, I swear it!"

It was enough, thought Skye to herself. What could Conn know of how a woman really felt, or how she would react under duress, or pa.s.sion? He could not know what went on in her mind, but it was enough that he wanted Aidan returned to him no matter what had happened to her. From her own experience in the East she believed the sea captain who transported Aidan would have valued her much too highly to have violated her despite what she had said to her brother. The dey would not have touched her since he was sending her as a gift to the Sultan of Istanbul. As for the sultan, there were so many women in his seraglio that there was probably a very good chance he would not see her for months despite her status as a gift from the dey. It was entirely possible that they would manage to retrieve Aidan unscathed. On the darker side was the possibility that they would not.

Elizabeth Tudor might keep Skye O'Malley from the sea, but the very nature of Skye's business ensured that she would be fully informed on the politics of the countries in which her s.h.i.+ps traded. The O'Malley-Small fleet had been trading in the Levant, and in Istanbul for years. They had discreetly kept an agent in the capital of the Ottoman Empire for several years, and just three years ago they had been joined by two agents, Sir Edward Osborne and Master Richard Staper, London merchant princes who had decided, having seen the cargoes brought in by Skye and Robbie's s.h.i.+ps over the last several years, that perhaps revival of trade with the Levant might indeed be a good thing. The presence of the Osborne-Staper agents along with the O'Malley-Small agent had won a safe conduct for Sir Edward's factor, William Harborne, allowing him free access to the sultan's domains. Master Harborne would be sailing soon for Istanbul.

Skye was aware of all this. Her information was fresher, and usually quicker than the queen's. She knew that the current sultan, Murad III, was a young man ruled by twin vices: his unquenchable l.u.s.t, and towering avarice. While she could hope that he would never see Aidan, and be attracted to her, there was also the chance that he would. These thoughts, however, she retained to herself. It was easy to get Conn to Istanbul. The seemingly impossible problem was going to be extracting Aidan from the middle of the very sticky web in which she was entangled.

Skye looked at her brother. "I can get ye to Istanbul, and I can do it quickly. First, however, ye must go to Algiers, and speak with my old friend, Osman; but even before that we must consider how to regain Aidan. Ye cannot simply go to Istanbul and tell the sultan ye want yer wife back. In Islam it is not the custom to take the wife of a living man for one's own wife or concubine, but only the most scrupulous of men practice this rule. Although the sultan is called the Defender of the Faith he may well argue that since ye are not a Muslim the rule does not necessarily apply. Actually ye cannot decide what to do until ye have discovered the position in which Aidan is situated."

"I don't understand," Conn said to her.

"Osman writes that the dey is sending her to the sultan as a gift. His harem is, by tradition, large. It is entirely possible he won't ever see her. On the other hand Sultan Murad is known for his rather large appet.i.te for women. It is said of him that his l.u.s.t has driven up the price of lovely slavewomen, and that his eunuchs keep the Istanbul bazaars emptied. Therefore she could be presented to him relatively quickly, particularly due to her status as a present from the Dey of Algiers. There is another possibility. The sultan might give her to someone he wished to honor either in Istanbul or elsewhere. The final possibility, of course, is that harshest of all. Aidan could be dead."

"Dead?" He looked horrified.

"She could die in childbirth, Conn. She could resist her fate, and be executed. She could simply not survive the voyage to Istanbul. We must think of all of these things. Osman Bey has the means of communicating with Istanbul for he has many friends there, and is well known through the sultan's empire. In a few days I will release the pigeon he sent with a message to Osman. I will ask him that he learn if Aidan reached Istanbul in safety, and if she still lives. Hopefully that information will await ye on yer arrival in Algiers. Then should all be well, ye must make the voyage to Istanbul. Ye cannot delay for come autumn the seas will not be pleasant as they are now."

"And ye remember, don't ye, my sister, how my stomach detests the sea." He smiled.

"I remember 'tis a wee bit delicate, Conn."

"Delicate?" He roared with laughter. "Aye, 'tis a good word for my belly at sea. Delicate! How I remember Brian railing at me for my seasickness when I was a boy. He couldn't understand how I could be sick in all the wonderful excitement of a howling gale from the northeast!"

"Brian," said Skye of her eldest half-brother who was Conn's elder by several years, "doesn't know the meaning of the word, delicate. He is a throwback to some Viking raider who pa.s.sed through the family at one point. He is blunt, and forthright, and has all the tact of a rampaging bull. Nonetheless he's a good man to have at yer back in a fight. I'm going to send for him, and Shane and Shamus, too, to go with ye to Istanbul."

"He'll not like being under Robbie's command," said Conn knowingly.

"No, he won't. None of them will, but I shall make it worth their while to help ye. Privateering has given them a taste for profit," she noted wisely. "There is no sentiment in our brothers."

"I will furnish them with their profit, Skye. Yer kind to offer, but I am a wealthy man in my own right, and Aidan is my wife."

She was about to debate with him when she remembered Adam's words Yer no longer the O'Malley. Swallowing her arguments she said, "Yer right, Conn," and Adam's eyes beamed with approval of her decision.

Conn's elder brothers were sent for, and they came from Ireland, grumbling and complaining. They sailed straight into the London pool where they were met by their sister's barge which took them to Greenwood. She watched them as they came ambling up her lawns from the house's quay.

They were as big as their father had been. Great, s.h.a.ggy men with bushy black beaids, and full heads of thick, black hair. Of course Conn was handsomer by far than his brothers were in their dark plaid trews and sleeveless doeskin jerkins. Wide leather belts with ornate silver buckles girded their waists, and Brian and Shamus each wore a gold earring in their right ear while Shane had rings on every finger of both his hands. Born to the sea they respected her and loved her even more than the women to whom they were wed, crooning or cursing the wild waves they sailed in their Irish Gaelic tongue; or sometimes railing at the waters in a queer mixture of Gaelic and English that the Irish used more and more these days.

"G.o.d's toenail," said Conn softly. "Was it so short a time ago I was like them?"

"Four years," replied Skye. "Do ye regret yer decisions?"

"Nay!" he said with such heartfelt expression that she almost laughed.

The brothers each in their turn embraced Skye in a bear hug, and then turned to look at their youngest sibling with something almost akin to admiration, but then Brian, the eldest, said sneeringly, "Is this perfumed English dandy actually our brother?" Next to him Shane and Shamus grinned foolishly, ever the perfect ciphers of Brian O'Malley.

Conn drew himself up to his full height which was a good inch over the others, and looking down his elegant nose drawled lazily in his best court manner, "Conn St. Michael, Lord Bliss. Do ye think, dearest sister, that these three s.h.a.ggy beasts are actually capable of following me into Barbary? Better ye let me take them to the bear gardens to fight with the dogs for they surely look like animals, and I could probably win a fortune running them."

"Ye've a quick tongue for a man who's called for our aid, little brother," said Brian in rather good English.

"So ye actually understood me, Brian. Did the others? I'm amazed that ye finally speak and comprehend an intelligible English. Why have ye bothered after all these years I wonder."

"Ye can't run with the English on the Spanish Main, and not learn to speak their accursed tongue," said Brian. "We even have a smattering of French and Spanish. Besides, having spent the last few years fighting with the English rather than against them, I have gained rather a grudging admiration of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds." He eyed Conn. "They seem to have done well by ye, little brother."

"Let us go into the house," said Skye. "There is a great deal to discuss, and it looks like rain."

They followed her inside, and into the library of Greenwood. There Adam de Marisco awaited them, and Brian, Shane, and Shamus O'Malley greeted him enthusiastically for he was the one Englishman whom they liked and admired. He settled them comfortably, placing goblets of rich burgundy wine from his mother's vineyards in France in their big paws. A good fire burned in the large fireplace, taking the chill from the room on this damp August day. Skye had been correct, and drops of rain were already beginning to fling themselves against the windowpanes. They drank deeply, and in unison, and then Brian, the leader, looked up, and asked, "Why are we here? We should be on our way back across the Atlantic at this very minute."

"It's a bad time of year to sail where ye were going," Skye said dryly. "Conn needs yer help, and 'twill take ye into smoother waters for now."

Brian swallowed another draft, and looked at Conn. "Well?" he demanded.

"As I'm certain ye know, for I wrote mother about it last winter, I was married on St. Valentine's Day to Aidan St. Michael. Her mother was Bevin FitzGerald, the daughter of a man named Rogan FitzGerald, a cousin of Elizabeth FitzGerald, the great heiress from Kildare. Aidan's mother died years ago, and her father last year. He left her in the queen's care, and the queen matched us, and saw us wed. In May a man named Cavan FitzGerald, claiming to be her cousin, arrived in England. In late June my wife was kidnapped by this man."

"Sweet Jesu!" exclaimed Brian O'Malley. This was high drama in which his brother was involved. "Let me guess," he said. "He's whisked the la.s.s back home to Ireland, and is holding her for ransom. Ye want us to rescue yer bride, and hang that little FitzGerald sneak from our yardarms. 'Tis done, Conn! Ye may call yerself St. Michael now, but yer still an O'Malley to us."

"I'm grateful for yer att.i.tude, brother," said Conn quietly, "but, 'tis not quite the way it happened. Cavan FitzGerald has taken my wife to Algiers, and sold her into slavery." Then as his three elder brothers stared silent, surprised, and openmouthed, he explained what had happened, ending with "I'll be going first to Algiers, and then on to Istanbul to rescue Aidan. I need the best men I can find to go with me, and who's better than the sons of Dubhdara O'Malley? I'll make it worth yer while financially, and best of all, brothers, ye'll have more than enough adventure to last ye a lifetime. 'Twill be a nice change from the Spanish, I'm thinking."

For several long minutes Brian O'Malley and his s.h.a.ggy brothers sat mutely, and then Brian said, "We'll take not a pennypiece from ye, Conn, in this venture. If we should pick up a little profit along the way then so much the better, but yer wife is our kin, and we can't take reward from ye for aiding our own sister."

"I'd rather ye accepted my offer of payment," said Conn. "Ye can't raise h.e.l.l in Turkish waters, Brian. It could endanget Skye's trading company with the sultan. I can't do that."

"Och, man, don't ye worry yer head," said Brian with a grin. "We'll just take a few fat Barbary merchants from the Turks off Gibraltar on our way home. 'Twill pay us for our time, and nothing more."

Skye laughed. "Why, Brian," she said, "I can see ye've developed a sophisticated sense of humor these last years. One thing, however, and I know 'twill chafe ye a bit, but Sir Robert Small must be in charge of this expedition. It isn't that he's a better seaman for he isn't, but he has traded back and forth in the Levant for years, and knows their ways and customs. I hope that ye understand."

"Of course, I understand, Skye," said Brian goodnaturedly. "What the h.e.l.l do we know of Barbary, or the Turks? Yer Robbie will be invaluable to us, and I promise we'll follow his lead in all matters even if we are better sailors than that little Englishman. When do we leave?"

"I'll want yer s.h.i.+ps turned out, scrubbed down, repaired, and provisioned at Conn's expense," said Skye. "With luck we can be ready within ten days to sail. I'll put my people aboard to do the work. Let your men spend the time raising all the h.e.l.l they want for once ye sail ye must impose tight discipline on them."

Brian nodded. "I'll not disagree with any of that, Skye."

"Ye'll all stay here at Greenwood," she said. "There's no plague in London despite the summer's heat."

"Do ye think we might get to see the queen?" asked Shane O'Malley. "They say she is the fairest woman in Christendom."