Then Skye took the opportunity to see Daisy's two small sons. Both looked like their father but for their gap-toothed smiles, which were their inheritance from their mother. The de Mariscos did not stay long in Devon though, departing the day after their arrival for Innisfana Island, on the west coast of Ireland, the ancestral home of Skye O'Malley.

Skye had taken the precaution to send a message on ahead calling her brothers into a family council. She knew that were they not on Innisfana they would be easy to reach for Grace O'Malley's sailors never ventured far from Ireland. It had been a long while since she had seen them, over five years, and in that time they had squandered everything she had built up for the O'Malleys since her father's death. She knew that her gentle and soft-spoken stepmother had exercised no control over her four sons; but why had she allowed them to take up with Grace O'Malley? She knew her brothers well enough to know that they were not patriots. She could only conclude that they had joined with Grace simply for the fun of a little hell-raising.

It was not harmless fun, however, Skye thought, and had her own family not been so intimately involved, she would have let her half-brothers pursue their own destructive course. She had no future in Ireland, and neither now did any of her children. She agreed with Elizabeth Tudor, who had said: "There is only one Christ Jesus, and one faith; the rest is a dispute about trifles." She and the Queen would never be friends, but Skye's loyalty was never seriously questioned, for her views were Erastian enough to protect her.

They sailed south into St. George's Channel, around Cape Clear, and north to Innisfana. It was November now, and the northerlies were sweeping down the Atlantic from the Arctic. Still the sky was clear, and although cold, it was pleasant sailing. Only once did they see another sail on the horizon, but that was from a ship inward bound to England from the New World, and they did not pass within hailing distance of each other.

Skye owned eight ships, and they were all with her, having by fortunate coincidence been in England at this time when she needed them. Like all the O'Malley ships, they were sleek and built for speed as well as cargo. Each one was well armed in order to defend itself, and as a fleet they were a powerful weapon, particularly since they had added more cannon as they were carrying no cargo this time.

Several days before they sailed Skye had assembled all her crews, and spoken quite frankly to them about why she was going home, and the fact that they might find themselves in a fight. About half her men were Irish, and she offered them the opportunity to remain in port and take passage on other vessels rather than fight their own people.

Bran Kelly spoke for the Irish. "We're your men, and our loyalty is to you, the O'Malley. We've all got family in Ireland, most of our people on Innisfana or O’Flaherty lands. If yer brothers cause more trouble with the English it's our women and children who'll bear the brunt of their vengeance."

There came a chorus of ayes as the Irish nodded and whispered among themselves.

"We'd just as soon stick by you, m'lady," Bran continued, and the rest of the men again nodded their agreement.

There was little to do on the voyage, and Skye spent a good deal of time pacing restlessly about the decks, or leaning over the bow rail staring hard ahead into the endless horizon. She disliked dissension, and because she must reassert her clan authority upon her brothers she was going to cause much dissension within her family. She wondered how Anne would react. Would she agree with her stepdaughter, or would she side blindly with her beloved sons?

"Dammit," Skye said aloud, "it was not up to me to raise them! Why could Anne have not been strong?"

Adam stood behind his wife, his strong arms wrapped about her lithe form. "You judge people by your own yardstick, Skye," he said softly. "Most women are not strong like you. They are meek, gentle creatures who rely upon their men for everything, including their very thoughts. Anne O'Malley has been widowed for sixteen years now. Her whole life has been the memory of your father, and her boys."

"My dear brothers, who have all been spoiled rotten and obviously have no sense of responsibility," Skye fussed. "I sent them to the sea to learn its ways, and I saw that they were taught to read and to write, and to do their numbers. Yet they waste everything I have built up for them, and they play at rebellion without a care for their families or their people. In Da's time a man might be a freebooter without incurring the royal wrath, but times have changed."

"Yes, little girl, you see that, for you are out in the world, but your brothers have never left Ireland, and have no desire to do so. Change is slow in coming to your green and misty land, Skye. Your people are a hundred years behind England, and you know it."

Skye pressed her lips tightly in a narrow line of disapproval. There was no use talking, for talk would change nothing. Adam was right, Ireland was behind the times. She sighed deeply with regret, and wondered if she could really prevent her four half-brothers from destroying themselves, from destroying Innisfana and their people.

"Is this a fool's chase?" she asked Adam, turning her face up to his.

"I don't know, sweetheart. You can only try."

"Damn Grace O'Malley," Skye said vehemently. "She plays the power game, as does the Queen. But I'll not let her destroy us. I'll not!"

Chapter 18

Grace O'Malley, the pirate queen of Connaught, looked directly at Anne O'Malley, her kinswoman, and then said to her first in command: "Signal my ship to fire on anyone attempting to enter Innisfana's harbor without my permission."

"Aye," the man grunted, and went off to do his mistress's bidding.

"You can't do that!" Anne protested. "My stepdaughter, the O'Malley, will be arriving any day now. 'Tis her domain, and you've no authority over it."

"She forfeited her authority when she married an Englishman," Grace spat.

"Aye," Brian O'Malley agreed. I’m the O'Malley now, Mother."

"Unless Skye passes on her responsibility to you, Brian, as your father passed it on to her, you're not," Anne snapped, "and none of our people will recognize you as such."

"Shut yer mouth, woman," Grace ordered rudely, and with an outraged look Anne fell silent.

There was going to be some difficulty when Skye finally came, Anne knew. Skye and Grace would detest each other on sight, but she prayed that her stepdaughter could right things. Most of it was her own fault, Anne realized. She had been so lost after Dubhdara had died, and she had clung to her sons, indulging and spoiling them so they would love her and she wouldn't be alone. They had grown into four big mirror images of their father, but they had not Dubhdara O'Malley's strength of character.


They were, Anne was ashamed to admit, weak but well meaning men who drank too much, and wenched too much, and were given to foolishness, such as pirating with their distant cousin, Grace, and her men. Eventually the English were going to descend on Innisfana and wreak their vengeance. Thank God that Skye was coming home! She would set everything to rights, even this matter of Grace O'Malley.

There was a dull boom, followed by several more, and running to the window, they saw a fleet of eight ships entering the harbor under full sail. Behind them, Grace O'Malley's vessel keeled slowly over and sank into the bay. Even at this distance they could see men in the water, clinging to the rigging.

"Sweet Jesu, my ship's been sunk!" Then Grace O'Malley swore a violent string of vulgar Gaelic oaths that caused even Brian to redden.

Anne put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as her eldest son said with pompous understatement, "My sister is come home at last. Now we'll settle this matter between us."

"Aye," Anne said softly, "Skye will settle it, I've not a doubt, Brian, but I think mayhap 'twill not be to yer liking."

"Mother, you must uphold my right!"

"Brian, I've warned ye that you've no rights in this matter. Yer father of sainted memory, may God assoil his dear soul, passed on his authority to your sister, Skye. It is her right to hold that authority, or pass it on to whomever she deems fit."

"It's not right that she hold the title if she's not here to physically hold the authority," Grace O'Malley said slyly.

"Skye has always taken care of Innisfana and its people, even from a distant shore," Anne defended her stepdaughter. "She's done a fine job building our wealth, which my sons have squandered. Perhaps if one of them had shown any maturity, she would have passed on her badge of office."

“The woman is in England's hire," Grace said scornfully. "She's no better than an English landlord!"

“That's right!" Brian agreed.

"I wonder if you have the courage to say that to your sister, my son," Anne murmured.

"I'm not afraid of Skye," Brian blustered.

"Well, you damned well ought to be if you're the one responsible for trying to prevent me entry into my own harbor," Skye snapped, striding into the hall of the O'Malley tower house, her husband and her captains at her back. She glanced about the room. "Good day, Anne," she said, and then her glance flicked to the other woman who was sprawled insolently in a chair.

"You sunk my ship," Grace drawled.

"It got in my way," came the reply.

"Could you not have asked it to move then?" Grace said with some humor as she stood up.

Skye looked at this woman who was her relative. She had to be at least six feet tall. She was big-boned like a man, but handsome in appearance with sparkling deep-blue eyes, and short, dark curls. Skye knew that Grace was a good ten years older than she was, but the woman didn't show it. "Anyone sending a warning shot across my bow is looking for a fight," Skye said. "No one bars me entry to my own harbor, my own holding. Do you think to add Innisfana to your own lands, cousin?"