The twelve dancers were dressed in greens, reds, yellows, blues, and purples, their costumes covered with gaily tinkling brass bells and silk ribbons of white, silver, and gold. There were five musicians, two with reed pipes, two with tabors, and one with a bagpipe.
The dancers split into groups of three and began to caper about in rhythm with the music. It was wonderful entertainment, and the eyes of the child Earl and his sister were huge with delight. Skye’s two children were happier now than they had been since the tragic deaths of Geoffrey Southwood and baby John. The sporadic visits of Robin’s erstwhile guardian, Lord Dudley, had frightened them both. Although not old enough to understand what was happening between their mother and the arrogant nobleman, they had sensed that something was very wrong, and were frightened for both Skye and themselves. Now, however, everything was very happy, with Skye and Niall occasionally giggling like naughty children and spending a great deal of time in their bedchamber. Neither Willow nor Robin understood why their parents needed sleep so much. The six-ship convoy that Skye had been expecting arrived on schedule, and was neatly pirated off Cape Clear by the O’Malley ships. The convoy’s arrival in Bideford with their holds picked clean was the talk of the countryside. Skye was hard put not to shout her triumph. She had known of the successful venture before word arrived from Bideford. A green beacon shining its light from de Marisco’s keep on Lundy had told her. Satisfied with her first success of the spring, Skye melted back into her husband’s arms and temporarily forgot the world.
Chapter 24
Elizabeth Tudor was fresh from the russet hair curled about the sides of her face and clung to the nape of her neck. Her black velvet riding habit was wet and stuck to her shoulder blades in dark patches. Her eyes were sharp and her cheeks flushed as she listened to Cecil’s report. ‘The convoy,” he said, “was attacked off Cape Clear. Three of the ships were English, two French, and one Dutch. They were stripped completely. Both the French and Spanish ambassadors have registered strong complaints with me.”
“Why?” demanded Elizabeth. “Has it been proven that these pirates are English?”
“No, madam, it has not. They fly no flags whatsoever and their men are commanded by a series of hand and whistle signals. However, one of the French captains said that the lines of the marauding vessels are English and the three English captains agree.” “God’s foot!” swore the Queen. “That Englishmen could attack the French and the Spanish-Dutch I fully comprehend. But that they could pirate their own countrymen is despicable. Tell me, Cecil, are these the same pirates who robbed us last summer?” “It would appear so, Majesty.”
“I want them caught,” said the Queen flatly.
“Of course, my dear lady,” said the chancellor, smiling. “I have taken the liberty of formulating a modest plan, which I now present for your approval. King Philip of Spain, your late sister’s husband, has married the French Princess, Isabelle de Valois. He now presses the suit of his Hapsburg nephew, Charles, as a possible bridegroom for you. To this end, a Spanish treasure ship is coming from the New World, and will be offered to you in the name of the Archduke Charles.
“We will use this ship as bait. The supposed merchant vessels that accompany your treasure ship will actually be our own warships in disguise. Thinking to snatch an easy prize, these bold privateers will find themselves caught in our net. The Spanish have already agreed to this plan and will send one of their ships along with ours to meet the treasure ship and explain the plan to its captain.” “How will the pirates know about the treasure ship, Cecil?” “Word will be spread about on the London waterfront, in Plymouth, and in Bideford. That should be enough.”
“Do it then!” commanded the Queen. “I want these pirates stopped.” And then she departed the chancellor’s closet, leaving her chief advisor atone.
Cecil sat down heavily, his nimble mind mulling over a thought he had decided not to voice to his mistress quite yet. The lines of the ships might be English, but Cecil doubted that their crews were. The attack off Cape Clear had given him the idea, for Cape Clear was in Ireland. He would wager his personal fortune that the pirates were Irish. This line of thought had led him to another. He suspected that they were disposing of their stolen cargoes through Lundy Island, which was notorious for that kind of business. And Lundy was but eleven miles by water from Lynmouth Castle. The mistress of mat castle was the Irish-born heiress of a great seafaring family. To boot, the lady had a grievance against the Queen. Cecil might never have suspected the woman except for the memory of her face when she left the Queen many months ago. A beautiful face, an angry face, a proud face-as proud as Elizabeth Tudor herself. Cecil sighed. The one thing he’d never been able to teach the Queen was not to use the people about her so ruthlessly. In that respect she was like her father, Henry Tudor.
He could not prove it yet, but he suspected that the lovely Countess of Lynmouth was cleverly revenging herself on the Queen by attacking one of her most important revenue sources. Cecil smiled to himself. The lady was a very worthy opponent, but the whole business ought not to have happened in the first place. Had the Queen remembered the loyal service of both the late Earl and his wife instead of sacrificing everything to her love for Dudley, none of this would have happened. Cecil did not like Robert Dudley. The man was a bad influence on Elizabeth, her one terrible weakness. She had come frighteningly close to marrying him, and Cecil still shivered at the memory, recalling the painful scene he had had with Elizabeth right after Amy Dudley’s death.
Elizabeth Tudor had been denied many things in her life, but she had salved her pride by reminding herself that one day… one day she would be Queen of England. And when she was, no one would ever deny her anything again. But insignificant little Amy Rosart had caused a scandal and her death had cost Elizabeth the only man she wanted. For that, a grateful Cecil prayed daily for Amy’s soul. Unfortunately, the Queen would not let Dudley go. Keeping his foolish hopes alive by indulging him outrageously was the means through which she held on to him. The lovely Skye Southwood had been part of that indulgence, and now the Queen was paying for her unnecessary cruelty.
Privately Cecil sympathized. What Elizabeth had done to her had been outrageous. Nevertheless, he could not allow the lady to rebel against royal authority, even discreetly. It could set a dangerous precedent if it ever became public knowledge. Cecil intended keeping the affair a private one.
Several weeks later Skye paid a regular visit to Bideford to inspect her warehouses and learned of the Queen’s treasure ship. Hurrying back to Lynmouth, she set the signal lights ablaze in the west tower, and then fidgeted several hours waiting for de Marisco. Niall was off visiting the furthermost part of the estates and was not expected back that night. Matt, Wat’s younger brother, had taken over the care of Skye’s new boat and the responsibility of the cave. He ran upstairs to tell his mistress that the lord of Lundy awaited below. Skye hurried down the interior staircase to greet Adam, a small pang of remembrance touching her as he swept her up and kissed her soundly on both cheeks. “Little girl! You obviously took my advice, for you’re blooming!”