Michaelmas daisies fought a territorial war. The haying had long since been done, and the grain lay stacked in the fields. The apple trees were heavy with fruit, some early varieties ready for picking, the later ones not quite ripe. The apple presses would soon be busy turning out Devon’s famous cider. Into this peaceful setting rode Richard de Grenville, a troupe of the Queen’s own at his back. Dickon was troubled, even horrified, and under orders he did not understand. He had been incredulous when Cecil gave him those orders.
“I know that you like wine, my lord,” said Cecil, “and you’ve been known to be loose-lipped when in your cups.” Here de Grenville flushed guiltily. “It would be most unwise to babble this news, for the Queen wishes total secrecy.” De Grenville had nodded. Richard de Grenville and his men clattered over the drawbridge and into the courtyard of Lynmouth Castle. He dismounted and made his way into the castle, where he was informed that Lord and Lady Burke were in the small family hall. Arriving there, Dickon stood for a moment, unobserved, looking at Skye and her family. Then his heart contracted. Skye moved, and he could see that she was with child. She sat with Lord Burke. His arm was loosely about her expanded waist, his big hand gently caressing the living mound of her belly. She lay her head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him, a smile of such incredible sweetness that de Grenville thought he would weep. Well, he couldn’t stand there forever. He cleared his throat and stepped noisily into the room.
“Dickon!” she cried. “It’s good to see you!”
Robin and Willow ran to greet him.
“Madam,” Dickon said coldly, without preamble. “I arrest you in the name of the Queen.”
The glad greeting died away. Slowly Niall Burke got to his feet. Though his voice was calm, he could not mask his anger. “If this is a jest, de Grenville, it’s a poor one. My wife can stand no shocks at present.”
“It is no jest, my lord.”
“The charges, sir?”
“I have not been given a list of charges, my lord. My orders are to escort Lady Burke to London as quickly as possible.” “And when you arrive in London…?”
“The Tower, my lord,” said de Grenville softly.
Skye cried out, and the children clustered about her knees, frightened. “I will not allow you to remove my wife in her condition. She carries the MacWilliam’s heir.”
“Unless you are prepared to battle the Queen’s guards, my lord, I intend taking her today.”
Niall wore no weapon, but he towered over de Grenville. “Over my dead body, Englishman!”
De Grenville drew his sword and Skye shrieked, “My lords! No!” She got awkwardly to her feet. “Dickon, for pity’s sake, what is this all about?”
“God bear me witness, Skye, I do not know. My orders are to bring you quickly and secretly to London where you are to be lodged in the Tower. Lord Burke, you are forbidden to leave Lynmouth. That is all I was told to say, and it’s truly all I know.”
“You can’t transport a woman who is six months gone with child all the way to London.”
“I have orders, my lord.”
“I can use the traveling coach,” said Skye quietly, and the two men turned to stare at her. “If we go slowly and carefully there should be no danger to my child. I know not why the Queen does this, but if I must go to London to straighten this out then I will. You will give me time to prepare, Dickon? My servants and I will be ready in the morning.”
“You can only take one servant, Skye.”
“Very well,” she said. Then, “Niall, I am tired. Will you escort me? You understand, Dickon, that I prefer to dine alone tonight in my rooms with my husband and children.”
De Grenville mumbled his assent as Niall escorted his wife from the room. In their apartment Skye sent the children off with Daisy and turned to Niall. “They know nothing,” she said positively. “If they did, Dickon would know the charges.”
“But they’re suspicious,” he said. “Suspicious enough to arrest you.”
“They can prove nothing!” argued Skye firmly. “They will try to frighten me, but they will not succeed. If they had any evidence at all they would be tearing Lynmouth and Lundy apart. They have nothing. The Tudor bitch seeks to outbluff me, but I’m a better opponent than she’s used to dealing with.”
“She can keep you imprisoned as long as she chooses, Skye.” “I know. You must not disobey her, Niall. You must stay at Lynmouth and watch over Robin and Willow. You must watch over Lynmouth.”
“But how can I help you if I remain here?”
“Adam de Marisco!” she said quietly. “Set two lights in the topmost window of the west tower, one high and one low. Have you got that? He’ll come. You can get word to Ireland through Adam.”
He put his arms about her and buried his face in her beautiful black hair and soft neck. “Skye…” There was such anguish in his voice.
“Do as I ask, Niall. I will not endanger Robin’s inheritance, nor give the Queen an opportunity to steal Southwood’s son from me. Oh, how she would enjoy that, barren stock that she is!”
Helplessly he held her, knowing he had no real part in this war. She had begun it without him, and now it seemed she would end it without him. All he could give her was his love to carry with her into imprisonment.
Supper was a subdued affair. Skye told the children, “You must not be frightened for me. I will come home again. Obey Niall as you would me, for I expect good reports of you.” She then tucked them into bed, kissing each one tenderly. Next she supervised Daisy and the maids with the packing. “Be sure you don’t forget the feather bed,” she reminded them. “It’s cold by the Thames in winter. And Daisy, see that several casks of Burgundy and malmsey are packed into the baggage wagon. I prefer my own wines.” Finally she lay next to Niall, curled spoon fashion against him, and he felt her trembling, heard her soft weeping. He said nothing, only held her close.
When morning came she dressed warmly, pulling her long knitted wool stockings on, following with first a silk and then two lightly spun wool petticoats. Her gown was of heavy dark-blue silk with pearl buttons, long sleeves, and a high neck. Her hooded cloak was lined in silk and edged in fur. Her short boots were fur-lined. Daisy arranged her thick dark hair in a low chignon.
Skye bid her children good-bye in the privacy of her rooms as she did not want them frightened by the soldiers who would escort her to her coach.
“Why is the Queen arresting you, Mama?” asked Willow again.
“I don’t know, my chick,” she replied. “It is just a misunderstanding.
You must not be afraid for me.”
“W-w-will they c-cut off your head,” quavered Robin, close to tears.
“Gracious, no, my darling! Where on earth did you ever get such a grim idea?”
“Willow said that’s what happens to people who go to the Tower,” he answered.
“The Queen was in the Tower once when she was just a Princess. And so was Lord Dudley, and so were any number of people I could name, Robin. None of them had their heads removed.” “But Willow said…” insisted Robin in defense of his adored older sister.
“Willow is an ignorant little girl who has obviously not been paying attention to her lessons and who badly needs a switching,” said Skye, hugging her son fiercely. She realized that Willow was badly frightened by her dramatic departure and, opening her other arm, said, “Oh, chick, come here and let me hug you too. But don’t cry, for mere is nothing to weep about.” Willow flung herself into her mother’s arms, pressing as close to her as Skye’s pregnancy would allow, and then it was Skye who came close to weeping. The two heads, one so dark like her own, one so fair like Geoffrey’s, came together and she kissed them both, then gently disengaged them and stepped away.
“I must go now, my loves. Obey Niall, and make me proud.” “Good-bye, Mama,” Willow’s eyes swam with unshed tears, but she gamely held them back.
“G-good-bye, Mama,” Robin stood straight.
“Good-bye, my lord Earl,” she replied, and then hurried from the room before the children saw her own tears.
Niall was waiting for her in their private family hall. Seeing the look on her face, he quickly caught her to him and kissed the hot tears that slid down her cheeks. “It’s my condition,” she muttered. “I know,” he soothed, “it must be, for you’d never give the Queen a victory over you. I know that.”
“No,” she sniffed, fumbling for her handkerchief. “I certainly wouldn’t!”
He laughed. “That’s my girl!”
