Skye O'Malley: A Love For All Time Part 22

Meg said nothing more, but Aidan could tell that she was considering her position. None of the women surrounding them looked unhappy or abused. There were several small children with their mothers in the bath, and there seemed to be no distinction between wives and concubines or their children.

They were bathed carefully, and a pink paste smelling of roses was smeared over their body hair. When it was washed off some time later they found themselves totally smooth-skinned, Aidan didn't bother translating the rather ribald remarks she overheard in the baths. The dey, it seemed, enjoyed his ladies, and was considered quite potent a man. It had been some time since he had acquired a female for himself, and the women of his household speculated on the chances of Meg's finding favor with him. If she did her life would be a joy, but if she did not one of two things could happen. She would be left alone and ignored for the rest of her days, or she would be quickly resold. That much, Aidan thought, she would warn poor Meg about. The girl was timid by nature, and would therefore want to stay where she was rather than face another unknown future.

When they were once again in their little room Aidan explained this to Meg. The young Kentish girl looked distressed.

"But how shall I go about pleasing the dey so that he will not sell me again? I know nothing of men."

"Surely you've seen the animals mate on your father's farm," said Aidan.

"Is it like that?" Meg seemed shocked.

"Well not quite," Aidan admitted. Lord, she had to help this poor girl to understand. After all, hadn't Skye helped her? She drew a deep breath, and explained the procedure of pa.s.sion between men and women as far as she knew it. "There may be some pain the first time," she warned Meg, "but it's not severe, and it goes away quickly. I can only tell you from my own experiences for a year ago I was as innocent as you are now. You should like it. I do."

"Why?" said Meg disconcertingly.

"Why?" Aidan laughed. "Because it makes you feel, so wonderful, so incredibly marvelous; so like nothing you have ever felt before, and don't ask me to explain that for I can't. No woman can. There are no words to really describe what it is like between a man and a woman, Meg. It simply is."

Late in the afternoon they were served a meal, their first since they had entered the dey's palace. There was a small chicken for them to share, and saffroned rice with bits of fruit in it, and the ever-present flat bread, and a bowl of both green and ripe olives in oil, and a bowl of figs. They were given water flavored with some sort of fruit that reminded Aidan of oranges, but wasn't. When they had eaten, and bathed their faces and hands, the young eunuch a.s.signed to them told them that they should rest.

"It is rumored that our lord will call the blond virgin to him tonight, but I have not yet been informed officially," he said.

"Are we to be given any clothing?" Aidan demanded boldly.

"When the blond virgin finds favor with our master she will be rewarded suitably. As for you, copper-haired woman, a wardrobe is even now being prepared for you to take to Istanbul with you. For now, however, you can remain as nature intended you."

Aidan pa.s.sed all of this on to Meg who said with surprising insight, "It is obvious that everything depends upon the will of the master here, my lady. I can see I am really going to have to please him. When do you think he will ask for me?"

"Perhaps tonight," said Aidan, "and since we are both in the same position, Meg, I think it is now time that you called me by my given name, which is Aidan."

"Tonight!" said Meg. "It is so soon!"

"If you are still afraid then it is better to get it over with sooner than later," Aidan remarked wisely.

They came for Meg as the moon rose over the city of Algiers. She was garbed in pale pink pantaloons that were edged with silver at the ankles, and at the waist which actually fit low over her hipbones. A tiny bolero edged in silver and crystal beads was her only other garment, and it was extremely skimpy being sleeveless, and ending just below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The eunuch brushed her pretty silvery-blond hair, and darkened her eyes with kohl to make them stand out even more. Then he fastened a sheer piece of veiling across her face which fell from the bridge of her nose to just below her chin. Her feet were left bare, and they made a lovely little sound as they followed the eunuch off down the corridor.

Well, thought Aidan, there is nothing more I can do for her. Hopefully her innocence will please the old man, and he will be kind to her. It was her own situation she was going to have to worry about now. Having been considered just barely pretty her entire life she had never really taken to heart Ras.h.i.+d al Mansur's ravings about her value. She had expected to be purchased by some rich man who would welcome the opportunity of growing richer with her ransom. A ransom that would have brought him much in exchange for the tall, rather plain girl that she considered herself. She was more than startled to find herself considered a rare beauty by these people, and more than distressed to learn that she was to be sent even further east than she already was. Did she dare to offer the dey a ransom for her person, but on reflection she knew she couldn't. It wasn't money the dey wanted, it was favor with his own overlord, the sultan. What was she going to do?

"Lady."

She started for she had not even heard the young eunuch come into the room. "What is it?" she asked, looking up at him.

He handed her a garment. "Please to put it on, lady. You have a guest. The great astrologer, Osman, has come to plot your stars so the dey may be certain that your future is with the Shadow of Allah upon this earth."

Here was a possibility, thought Aidan. With luck this astrologer would find her incompatible. She arose, and slid the shapeless garment over her. It was really quite lovely, of a pale green silk embroidered in darker green and gold threads about the neck, and on a wide band that encircled the sleeves. She smiled wryly at herself in the mirror that the eunuch held up for her so she might see herself.

The eunuch smiled himself. "Properly garbed," he said, "you are even more beautiful, lady."

Aidan chuckled. "I don't think anyone has ever called me beautiful in my whole life," she said.

"Are the men of your land blind then, lady? I cannot understand that. You have a delicacy of features that is rare, and in your face is strength, another rarity. You will be a great woman one day."

He left her for a moment, and she awaited his return with the astrologer he called Osman. She didn't know what it was that she had expected, but the man who came through the door was not it. He was a man of medium height and build with a totally bald pate and a round moon face. She had expected a large and bl.u.s.tering charlatan, not this kindly looking man with warm golden-brown eyes.

"Good evening, my lady," he said in a quiet, yet surprisingly commanding voice. "I am Osman the astrologer. Here in the city of Algiers I have some small fame, and the dey has asked me to consider your nativity in the stars with relation to our gracious lord, Sultan Murad, the third of that name."

"Is it proper to ask you to be seated, Master Osman?" said Aidan.

"It is, and if you will instruct this young eunuch, he will bring us coffee, and perhaps even some sweets."

Aidan looked at the eunuch. "Let it be as he says," she ordered, and then as the eunuch left the room she said, "How is it that you speak French, Master Osman?"

"Many here in Algiers do, my lady, but in my case, my wife is French. She was a captive many years ago. She was given to me on the occasion of the marriage of two of my dear friends. They wished to celebrate their happiness with their guests." Then Osman arose, and going quickly to the door, opened it, and looked outside. Seeing nothing he closed it again. "There is no time for me to be subtle, my lady. Tell me quickly before the eunuch returns. Why did you shout the name of O'Malley this morning on your way to the jenina?"

"My husband was born Conn O'Malley," said Aidan, and her heart began to pound. Why was he asking her this thing?

"Does your husband have a sister named Skye?"

"Yes!" breathed Aidan. "Oh, Osman, how is it you know this? Have you consulted the stars in my behalf already?"

"Skye O'Malley is an old and dear friend of mine. Now tell me swiftly how it is you came to be here."

The words tumbling frantically over one another Aidan told Osman her tale, and when she had finished the astrologer groaned. "What a coil! What a coil!"

"Please, Master Osman, can you help me? I will pay the dey any ransom he so desires!"

Osman shook his head. "There is rarely ransom for women from Barbary, and in your case the dey plans to send you to his master in Istanbul. There is no amount of ransom that could a.s.suage his disappointment should he be denied his desire."

"Can you not tell the dey that my stats are not compatible with those of the sultan?" Aidan begged.

Osman smiled a small smile at her hopeful tone. "No, my child, I cannot, for I am an honorable man, and the dey trusts me. You must go to Istanbul as I suspect it is your fate, but I will promise you that I will inform Skye of where you are. She is not without power, and I believe that your queen is even now seeking to establish formal relations with the Sublime Porte as the Sultan's government is known. If anyone can work the miracle that you need it is Skye O'Malley. Now, tell me your name, my child."

"I am Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss. My husband, Conn, took my name upon our marriage for my father had no sons."

Osman nodded. "I understand," he said. "Now, Aidan, we must do what I promised the dey I would do, and that is chart your stars. Tell me your birthdate, my child."

"I was born on the nineteenth of August in the year of Our Lord fifteen hundred and fifty-four."

"Do you know what time you were born, my child? By that I mean the hour."

"Yes, Master Osman, I do. I was born at dawn, just a few minutes before five o'clock in the morning, at Pearroc Royal, which is just a few miles west of Worcester. My mother always told me that she remembered pus.h.i.+ng me forth from her body, and seeing the sun crawl above the horizon at the same moment. She said that she was watching the sky for it helped to take her mind from the pain of childbirth."

"Excellent!" said Osman. "Knowing the moment of your birth helps me to make a more exact chart of your stars for you. I can be far more accurate this way, and there is less chance for error. By chance do you know when your husband was born?"

"Why do you want Conn's birthdate, Master Osman?"

"For comparison, my child," he answered her without hesitation, but in truth Osman sought to learn if Aidan and Conn were meant to be reunited, and hopefully a comparison of their natal charts would tell him this.

"My husband is a year younger than I am," said Aidan. "He was born on Innisfana Island, just after ten o'clock in the evening on the twenty-third of June, fifteen hundred and fifty-five."

At that moment the eunuch chose to return with tiny cups of boiling hot coffee in thin eggsh.e.l.l cups, and a plate that held tiny gazelle pastries which were confections of ground nuts, sesame seeds, and honey. Osman showed Aidan how to drink the coffee, adding small chips of ice to it to cool it should she not like it hot, and adding sugar to it to sweeten its sharp, bitter taste. Aidan had never tasted coffee, and she wasn't certain that she liked it. Osman, however, gulped his little cup down after lacing it liberally with sugar. When he had finished he arose, and said with grave courtesy, "Now that I have the proper information I can prepare your natal chart, my lady Aidan. Should it he favorable then you will indeed be the most fortunate of women." His words were for the benefit of the attending eunuch. His golden-brown eyes said another thing. It was almost as if she could hear his calm voice rea.s.suring her; easing her fears.

"Thank you, Master Osman," she said softly.

"I will not fail you," he said, and then he was gone through the door of the small chamber.

"Do you know how fortunate you are?" said the eunuch excitedly. "He is the most famous astrologer in all the East. Kings come from beyond the great southern desert to gain his wisdom! The dey will not make a serious decision without the advice of Osman, yet for all his influence he is a modest and well-liked man. When the sultan learns that you come to him with not only fine clothes and jewels, but a natal chart prepared by Osman himself, your value will increase even more!"

"He seems a kind man," said Aidan, not knowing what else she should say.

The eunuch's eyes rolled up in his head for a moment. He was a coffee-colored man and his whole face expressed its astonishment at her apparent stupidity. Then with a mild snort of derision he went about the business of preparing the room for Aidan to sleep. From a cubicle built into the wall he drew forth a mattress, and unrolled it. Next came a coverlet of medium weight for the night could be cool. On a tiny low table next to the mattress he placed a goblet of fruit juice and a small plate of sticky, sweet candy of a gummy consistency. "You will be comfortable now, lady," the eunuch said. "I will awaken you in the morning. Do not be tempted to stir from the room in the night for the dey looses his hunting cats within the harem at midnight, and they are trained to attack whatever moves in the darkness." With a bow he left her.

It had not occurred to her to leave her small cubicle, but she was glad that the eunuch had imparted that little piece of information. How clever, she thought, of the dey to use his animals as guards, and far more effective. They could not be bribed or cajoled like humans could be, and even if one attempted to lure them with meat one would have to find them first. It was more likely you could be attacked before that happened. It was obvious that Meg would not be returned that night, and so there was nothing else to do but settle down and go to sleep.

Lying down Aidan thought back over the last few weeks. How could she and Conn have been so entangled in such a plot? She should have refused Lord Burghley's request that she tell Cavan she was penniless. She should have obeyed her husband, and not seen the wretch again. She should have gone home to Pearroc Royal, but then Lord Burghley's request had seemed such a simple one, and who could have imagined Cavan FitzGerald would have acted as he had. Certainly not Aidan.

She sighed deeply. Surely with her disappearance they would have realized that Cavan FitzGerald had indeed involved Conn even as Lord Burghley had suspected. Had they released her husband, and was he all right? Osman had said he would not prevent her being sent to the sultan, but he had also promised to tell Skye where she was. Would he keep that promise, or on reflection would he decide not to for whatever reason? She had never heard Skye mention him, but then there was much she didn't know about her beautiful sister-in-law. Aidan fell into a troubled sleep.

Chapter 9.

Conn St. Michael had learned of his wife's disappearance from her faithful tiring woman. When Aidan had not come home to Greenwood that evening Mag had wasted no time in hurrying back to the Tower of London, and demanding to see her master. The guards were not wont to allow her in at this late hour for she was no one of importance, but Mag with a boldness that surprised even herself had said, "If ye'll not let me see Lord Bliss, I want to see the governor of this place, and ye'd better step lively, my lads, for the information I bring is of vital importance to her majesty's safety!"

The captain of the guard was called, and Mag calmly repeated her speech to him. The captain leaned over and smelt her breath, but there was no wine or ale upon it, and so he reasoned that she must be sober. "If yer wasting my time, woman, I'll see yer put in the stocks for a month!" he threatened. "I'll not be made a fool of before Sir John."

"Then take me to Lord Bliss," said Mag, "and let him decide the importance of my information."

Thinking it over the captain of the guard decided that this was the better course to follow for if the woman was lying her master would have her punished, and the captain would not look silly before his superior. "Very well," he grudgingly allowed, "ye can see yer master," and he ordered one of his men to escort Mag to Conn's cell.

They found Conn dicing with his guards who were delighted for the interruption for they were losing, much to their discomfort. "What is it, Mag?" said Conn arising from the floor where he had been seated.

"Her ladys.h.i.+p ain't come home, my lord. She went to the Swan, and she ain't come back since."

"The Swan!" Conn was instantly alert. "Why did she go to the Swan, Mag? Surely she didn't go to see Master FitzGerald? Why did you let her do such a foolish thing?"

"It weren't me, yer lords.h.i.+p, 'twas that man of the queen's, Lord Burghley. 'Twas he who sent my lady to Master FitzGerald, and now she's not come home!" Mag began to sob, covering her face with her worn hands.

Conn gritted his teeth in frustration. He had to be patient for Mag's story at this point made absolutely no sense whatsoever. "Get Mag a chair, Cluny," he snapped at his serving man, and when Cluny had complied, he gently seated Aidan's tiring woman, and said in what he hoped pa.s.sed for a calm voice, "Now, Mag. I want ye to tell me exactly what happened when ye left here this afternoon. Begin at the beginning, and leave nothing out."

Mag snuffled a bit, and then she slowly, as if she were very carefully remembering, began to speak.

The clever old fox, thought Conn, as Mag concluded her story. Basically it was a sound plan, but it had been a dangerous thing to do with his wife, something, of course, that William Cecil would not have deeply considered. Lord Burghley's main interest was the queen's welfare. "How did Aidan get to the Swan?" he asked Mag.

"Lord Burghley sent her in his own coach. It was supposed to wait, and bring her safely back to Greenwood, but she never came home." Mag began to blubber again. "She never came home, my lord!"

"Bring me parchment, pen, and ink, Cluny," said Conn. "When I have sent a message to Lord Burghley ye will deliver it, and then take Mag safely back to Greenwood before returning here." He turned to Mag to offer her some small comfort. "We'll find her, Mag, and don't you fret. Master FitzGerald wouldn't harm her. He's a greedy b.u.g.g.e.r, but I don't believe there is any serious malice in him."

Lord Burghley had been settling down for the night when Conn's message was brought to him. With a sigh he called for his coachman to be sent for, and Lady Burghley with a knowing smile departed for her own bed. "I told ye to wait for Lady Bliss," said William Cecil without any preamble as his coachman entered his study.

"A gentleman comes out of the inn, and says to me that her ladys.h.i.+p was staying to have supper with her cousin, and that I was to have the evening free. I thought that was a funny thing to say to me as the lady weren't my mistress, but I just thanks the gentleman, and comes home, my lord."

"Did this gentleman's speech sound of Ireland?"

"Yes, my lord."

"G.o.d's nights.h.i.+rt!" swore Lord Burghley using a favorite oath of the queen's. What had the villain done? "Yer dismissed," he said to the coachman with a wave of his hand.

"I hopes I didn't do wrong, my lord," said the coachman. "Nay, Jeffers, ye but did as ye were told which is the best trait in a good servant."

The coachman left the room, and Lord Burghley was shouting for his secretary, an overworked little man who hurried into the room. "Send some men-at-arms to the Swan, by the river, and find out if Master Cavan FitzGerald is still there. If he isn't then find out who was with him, and if there was a lady with them. Hurry!"

The men wearing Lord Burghley's badge were respectfully greeted by the landlord at the Swan. "Yes, indeed! Master FitzGerald is indeed a guest of this establishment. He and his friend have rooms on this very floor, in the rear, for they wished quiet. Aye, a lady came calling earlier, and they are still here." The landlord led Lord Burghley's men down the narrow corridor to the rooms that Cavan had taken, and he knocked upon the door, but there was no answer. After a moment or two the door was opened to reveal the empty rooms. Lord Burghley's men departed back to their master, there to tell him that Cavan FitzGerald, and another gentleman, a foreigner who claimed to be French although the landlord thought he had the look of Spain about him, had disappeared from the Swan along with Lady Bliss.

Lord Burghley was puzzled. What had happened to Lady Bliss? Men-at-arms were dispatched back to the Swan, and its surrounding neighborhood. No one had seen the three, or at least remembered seeing the three. An alley went from the rear courtyard of the inn down to the river, and it was concluded that this had been their route of exit from the Swan. From the muddy riverbank they had probably hailed a pa.s.sing werryman, but where had they gone from there? Lord Burghley's men spread out, questioning every boatman that they could find upon the river, but there were so many of them. It would take a miracle to find the one who had picked up three pa.s.sengers at that exact spot, and taken to who knows where.

William Cecil, Lord Burghley, was certain of one thing now. Lord Bliss had not been involved in any plot against the queen. In fact he was certain there had been no real plot at all for other than the butcher and his two sons, Walsingham's agents had found no one else involved, nor had there even been the hint of a Spanish plot against Elizabeth. One interesting thing had turned up, however. The ex-Spanish agent, now imprisoned in the Tower, had been sent a tun of wine. As he had received nothing since the day of his imprisonment the tun had been examined, and a note found within a small earthenware ball that floated within the keg. It read: .

Rejoice, brother! I will shortly remove the tarnish ye placed upon our name, and we may hold our heads up once more before our king. Another message will soon follow. Be watchful!

Your brother, Miguel It did not make a great deal of sense to Lord Burghley, but Walsingham informed him that obviously Antonio de Guaras had a brother, who was now in England. It appeared that this Miguel de Guaras might be involved with Cavan FitzGerald, but what the real purpose behind their actions might be he would not know until he had them both within his custody. An arrest warrant had already been issued for Cavan FitzGerald. Now a second warrant was signed to seek out the Spaniard. Conn was released from the Tower, and returned to Greenwood to find that Skye and Adam had arrived from Queen's Malvern.

"I know that I'm forbidden London and the court," said Skye to her brother when he questioned her presence, "but the court is with the queen on her progress, and Chiswick is not London. I want to speak to Lord Burghley. You and Adam fetch him to me."

"Fetch William Cecil to ye?" Conn was angry and incredulous all at once. "Just like that, Skye? Bring me William Cecil! I never want to see that man again! It is thanks to him that I have lost my wife! My darling Aidan who was the best thing that ever happened to me! My wife, and my expected child! They are both gone!"

Skye's face puckered with sympathy for her youngest brother. She had never seen him look so vulnerable in his entire life. Poor Conn, she thought. The Handsomest Man at Court had fallen in love, and now that love had been taken from him, and his world was cras.h.i.+ng about him. She caught his big hands in her slender ones. "Listen to me, Conn! No one in this family can deal better with Lord Burghley than I can. I cannot go to London, nor can I chase after him if he leaves to rejoin the queen which he will undoubtedly do very shortly. His presence here will not ensure Aidan's return, and ye know which way his loyalties lie. He may not have even told ye all the truth of this matter, but he will tell me!"

He looked at her. She was his beautiful and incredibly wise and competent big sister. There had never been a woman like Skye in this world. His handsome face crumbled, and he wept unashamedly. "Help me, Skye! Help me find my Aidan!"

Skye cradled her brother against her bosom, and stroked his hair all the while making soothing noises to him as if he had been a child. "There, Conn, my sweet baby brother! There, my love. We'll find yer Aidan, I promise ye. We'll find her."

Strangely William Cecil was not surprised to find Skye so close to London as Chiswick-on-the-Strand. At Conn and Adam's request he came readily, grumbling. "Not that I can tell Lady de Marisco anything more than I have already told ye, my lord Bliss. However I know yer sister well, and she will worry this matter like a terrier unless I speak with her."

Arriving at Greenwood, Skye's London house, he noted that country living was obviously agreeing with her. She had put on just the faintest bit of weight, but it was enormously becoming to her. Like his mistress, the queen, Lady de Marisco, was always slender to the point of emaciation in his estimation. A woman should have some meat on her bones. With a courtly bow he took her hand up, and kissed it. It was not something he did for all women for Frenchified manners did not appeal to him, but her hands, like the queen's, were so beautiful. She was wearing a deep blue silk gown trimmed in dainty, handmade lace, and her haunting damask rose fragrance brought back memories of other encounters. "Madame, ye look well. It is obvious that the queen made the right choice for ye in sending ye to Queen's Malvern."

"I miss the sea," Skye said which was not so much truth, but she enjoyed being arbitrary in this instance. "Will ye be seated, my lord?" He sat. "Wine? The day is quite warm."

He accepted the wine, and then before she could attack, he did. "Just what is it ye want of me, Lady de Marisco? Ye come dangerously close to disobedience to the queen's will coming so near to London."

"I would have come into London proper if I thought it might help, sir! I have heard from my brother, but now I would hear from you just what ye did to involve my sister-in-law in some plot that has resulted in her disappearance."

"There is no great mystery about it, madame. I asked Lady Bliss to go to Master FitzGerald, and pretend that her wealth was about to be confiscated by the crown for her husband's alleged treasons. My theory was quite simple. I sought to learn if there really was a plot against the queen's life, or if this Cavan FitzGerald was in fact merely attempting to rid himself of yer brother so he might marry his widow, and thereby inherit wealth. There was no danger."

"There must have been," snapped Skye, "for is Aidan not gone off the face of the earth, my lord? Where is Master FitzGerald? Has he turned up?"