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.