at the storms.
The baby became a toddler, and the toddler a little girl. Dubhdara?O’Malley was the lord of the seas around Ireland. He had many?ships and several hundred men who answered only to him. Skye?soon became his acknowledged heir and a favorite among the rough?sailors. She was spoiled and cosseted by them all. She barely knew?her mother and sisters, and had no time or patience for them and?their silly lives.
In the spring of 1551 Skye’s mother died. Soon, her uncle Seamus?urged that Skye stay home and learn some woman’s ways, to sustain?her in marriage. As the priest pointed out to his brother, Skye’s?husband was more likely to appreciate a wife who could run his?home than one who could navigate a ship through the fog. Reluc-?tantly, O’Malley sent Skye home to Innisfana to learn how to be a?lady.
Angry at being taken from her beloved sea, Skye set about making?her older, married sisters’ lives miserable. She quickly learned,?however, that Dubhdara O’Malley’s mind was made up. She must?learn womanly arts. So, as her father wished, Skye set about making?a good job of it. When her next oldest sister, Sine, was married a?few months later, Skye had become accomplished in the household?arts and was scheduled to be wed next.
But though Skye had learned the womanly arts, she had not?become a biddable female. Not Skye O’Malley!
PART I
Chapter 1
It was a perfect early summer day in the year 1555. Innisfana?Island, its great green cliffs tumbling into the deep and spar-?kling blue sea, shone clear at the mouth of O’Malley Bay.?English weather, the Irish inhabitants of the region called it,?and it was nearly the only English thing they approved of. There?was a slight breeze, and in the skies above the island the gulls and?terns soared and swooped, their eerie
Standing tall against the horizon was O’Malley Castle, a typical?tower house of dark gray stone. Rising several stories high, it com-?manded a view of the sea from all its windows. It had a wide moat,?and beyond that moat was-of all things-a rose garden, planted?by the late Lady O’Malley. After her death, now four years past,?the new Lady O’Malley kept the garden up. Now in full bloom, it?was a riot of yellows, pinks, reds, and whites, a perfect background?for the wedding of the youngest daughter.
Inside the tower house, in the main hall, the five older daughters?of the O’Malley family sat happily gossiping with their pretty step-mother while they sewed and embroidered the bride’s trousseau. It?had been a long time since they had all been together. Now, each?had her own home, and they all met only on special occasions.
They were as similar now as they had been as children. Medium-?tall, they all ran to partridge plump. It was the kind of comfortable?figure that kept a man warm on a cold night. Each was fair-skinned with soft peach-colored cheeks, serious gray eyes, and long, straight,?light-brown hair. None was beautiful, but none was ugly, either.
The eldest, Moire, was twenty-five, and had been married for?twelve years. She was mother to nine living children, seven sons.?Moire stood high in her father’s favor. Peigi, at twenty-three, had?been married ten years and was mother to nine sons. Peigi stood?even higher in her father’s favor. Bride, twenty-one, had been mar-?ried eight years, and had only four children, two of whom were?boys. Dubhdara tolerated Bride, and constantly exhorted her to?greater productivity. “You’re more like your mother than the others,”?he would say ominously.
Eibhlin, eighteen, was the only one with a religious calling. She?had been such a quiet little thing that they hadn’t even suspected her?piety until the boy to whom she was to be wed succumbed to an?attack of measles the year Eibhlin was twelve. As O’Malley con-?sidered a possible replacement bridegroom for his fourth daughter*? Eibhlin begged to be allowed to enter a convent. She genuinely?desired that life. Because her uncle Seamus, now bishop of Muirisk,?was present for the talk, Dubhdara O’Malley was forced to give his?consent. Eibhlin entered her convent at thirteen, and had just recently?taken final vows.
Sine O’Malley Butler was sixteen, wed three years, and the?mother of one boy. She was eight months pregnant but she would?not have missed Skye’s wedding.
The married sisters were dressed in simply cut, full-skirted silk?dresses with bell sleeves and low, scooped necklines. Moire was in?a deep, rich blue, Peigi in scarlet, Bride in violet, and Sine in golden?yellow. The lacy frill of their chemises peeked elegantly up through?the low bodices.
Eibhlin struck the only somber note. Her all-covering black linen?gown was relieved only by a severe white starched rectangular bib,?in which was centered an ebony, silver-banded crucifix. About her?waist the nun wore a twisted silk rope, also black, which hung in?two plaits to the hem of her gown. One plait, knotted into three?knots, symbolized the Trinity. The other, knotted in the same man-?ner, symbolized the estates of poverty, chastity, and obedience. By?way of vivid contrast, her sisters wore chains of wrought gold or?silver about their waists, and each woman had attached to her chain?a rosary, a needlecase, a mirror, or simply a set of household keys.
Because this was an informal home garthering, the married sisters?wore their hair loose, parted in the center. Sine and Peigi had added?pretty arched linen caps. And of course Eibhlin, whose hair had?been cut when she took her vows, wore starched and pleated white?wings over her white wimple.
Presiding over this gathering was Dubhdara O’Malley’s second?wife. Anne was the same age as her stepdaughter, Eibhlin, and a?pregnant with her fourth child as was her stepdaughter, Sine. Anne?was a pretty woman, with chestnut-brown curls, merry brown eyes,?and a sweet, sensible nature. Anne’s silk gown was of a deep win‹?shade, and fashioned identically to her stepdaughters’ gowns. But?over her ruffled bodice Anne wore a double strand of creamy baroque?pearls. None of the O’Malley daughters had resented their father’:?marriage to Anne and everyone liked her enormously. One could?not help liking Anne.
For nine years after Skye’s birth Dubhdara O’Malley had obeyed?his priest brother’s edict, and stayed out of his wife’s bed. He really?did not wish to kill Peigi. Free of yearly pregnancies, Peigi regained?her strength and even began to bloom. Then, one night, Dubhdara?O’Malley had arrived home from a long voyage. It was late. He had?no current mistress, and there wasn’t a servant girl in sight. He had?gotten drunk and sought his wife’s bed. Nine months later, Peigi?O’Malley died giving birth to the long-awaited son, born September?29th and baptized Michael. The little boy was now almost six.
Within an almost indecently short time O’Malley had taken his?second wife, a girl of thirteen. Nine months from their wedding day?Anne had birthed Brian; a year later, Shane; and in another year,?Shamus. Unlike her meek predecessor, Anne O’Malley possessed?good health and high spirits. This child she carried was to be the?last, she told her husband firmly. It would also, she assured him,?be a boy. Five sons should give him the immortality he craved.
O’Malley had laughed and slapped her playfully on the backside.?His daughters took this to mean that he was either in his dotage or?growing mellow with age. Had their own mother ever made such?a statement she would have been beaten black and blue. But then,?Anne O’Malley was the mother of sons.
Moire looked up from her embroidery to gaze with pleasure about?the hall. It had never looked so nice in their mother’s time for she,?poor soul, had spent much of her life in her own rooms.
The stone floors were always well swept now, the rushes changed?weekly. The oak trestles were polished to a mellow golden hue,?reflecting the great silver candlesticks with their pure beeswax tapers.?The big brass andirons were filled with enormous oak logs, ready?to be lit when the evening arrived. Behind the high board, promi-?nently displayed, hung a large new tapestry depicting Saint Brendan?the Monk on a sky-blue background, guiding his ship across the?western seas. Anne had designed it, and had been working on it?almost every evening. of her married life. It had been a labor of love, for the second Lady O’Malley adored not only her bluff, big husband,?but their sons and their home as well.
Moire’s eyes lit upon several big colorful porcelain bowls filled?with roses. Their pungent, spicy scent gave the room a wonderful?exotic smell. Moire wrinkled her nose with pleasure and said to?Anne, “The bowls are
