Skye O'Malley

“Skye? Where is she?” MacGuire looked most uncomfortable.

Sighing, he admitted, “We?don’t know where the O’Malley is, my lord. When the infidels shot?you down our first concern was to get you safely aboard. We knew?they couldn’t outrun us. But no sooner had we gotten you back to?the ship man a damned rain squall hit, and we lost the bastards in?a fog bank. We were nearer Mallorca, and so we brought you here.?The rest went on to Algiers, but alas, sir, no trace has been found?yet of the O’Malley.”

For a moment, all was silence. Then Niall said, fiercely and?simply, “I’ll find her! I’ll find her!” And he swung his legs over the?edge of the bed trying to rise. Inis whined.

Constanza Alcudia Cuidadela rose swiftly and sped to his side.?”No, No! Senor Niall. You will reopen your wound. It is still not?totally healed.” She slipped an arm about his back and gently forced?him back to the bed. “Fetch my papa immediately,” she hissed?angrily at the stricken captain. “Ana, help me get the senor back?into bed.” She fussed about him like a little mother hen, puffing?the pillows and smoothing the coverlet, and despite his anxiety he?was amused by this little creature whose concern for him was so?touching. “For shame, senor!” she scolded. “Ana and I have worked?so hard to make you well! Why do you allow your captain to agitate?you? If you cannot remain calm then I will not let him in to see you?again.”

He realized then that, although he was speaking Spanish with?her, he had spoken Gaelic with MacGuire. She hadn’tunderstood.?He felt suddenly weak, but wanted her to understand. “My betrothed?wife was kidnapped when I was injured,” he said. “MacGuire tells?me she has not yet been found.” It was several moments before she? spoke.

“You love her very much, Senor Niall?”

“Yes, Senorita Constanza,” he replied gently. “I love her very?much.”

“Then I shall make a novena to the Holy Virgin that she is found?soon,” the girl said gravely, and Niall thought again how sweet the?child was.

MacGuire quickly returned bringing an older gentleman with him.?The man was of medium height with a short, dark, tailored beard,?dark hair, and the coldest black eyes Niall had ever seen. He was?dressed richly but soberly, his short velvet cape edged in a wide?band of deep brown fur.

“Lord Burke,” the voice was as cold as the eyes. “I am the Conde

Francisco Cuidadela, and I am happy to see you conscious at last.?Captain MacGuire tells me, however, that you are agitated about?your betrothed. It is best that you hear the truth now.”

“Papa!” the girl’s voice was pleading. “Senor Niall is not yet?strong enough.”

“Silence, Constanza! How dare you presume to advise me? You?will come to me after vespers for punishment, and then you are to?spend the night in the chapel meditating on filial respect and obe-?dience.”

The girl hung her head, beaten. “Yes, Papa,” she whispered.

“Your betrothed wife is lost to you forever, Lord Burke, and the?sooner you are able to accept this the better off you will be. Should?she be found you could not possibly want her back. If she is alive,?she has by now been defiled by the infidel, and no decent Catholic?could live with that.”

“No!”

“Be reasonable, Lord Burke. Captain MacGuire tells me the lady?was a widow. Without the protection of virginity-for purity brings?a very high price among the infidels-she was probably raped by?at least the captain and officers of the ship that kidnapped her. If?she survived that and was beautiful, then rest assured that she was?sold into slavery. If she is still alive, she now graces some pasha’s?bed. It is not possible mat you could want a woman like that back,?even if she could be found. Under these circumstances, the holy?Church would not hold you to your betrothal. The lady is as lost to?you as if she were dead, and in all likelihood she is dead.”

“Get out!”

The Conde bowed from the waist. “Your grief is understandable,?Lord Burke. I shall leave you to it. You will soon see the wisdom?of my words. Come, Constanza!” And he swept from the room, his?daughter meekly behind him.

Niall Burke watched the door close behind the Conde and his?daughter. For a moment the silence hung heavy in the room, then?he said grimly, “All right MacGuire, talk! I’m no child to be whee-?dled, and if I’ve lived this long, you can bloody well be sure I’m?going to survive. Where is the O’Malley fleet, and what’s this non-?sense about Skye being lost forever, and how the hell long have I?been here anyway? Speak up, man, or I’ll tear the tongue from your?head!”

“You’ve been ill six weeks, my lord.”

“Jesu!” swore Niall.

“The fleet went directly to Algiers and we were able to obtain?an immediate audience with the Dey. He was most sympathetic and?sent to every slave merchant in the city, offering a king’s ransom for the O’Malley’s return, or at least information leading to her?return. It was like hollering down a rabbit hole, my lord-not even?an echo. The Dey came to the same conclusion the Conde has. She?never reached Algiers alive. What other answer is there?” Here his?voice broke, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

In truth, MacGuire was more distressed by something he dared?not tell the seriously ill Lord Burke. It seemed that there was one?other possibility about the O’Malley’s fate. The Dey had told him?that Skye might have reached Algiers alive and then been sold pri-?vately. Private sale of captives was strictly illegal because it cheated?several people, including the Dey himself, of their shares in the?purchase price. But private sales were managed, especially sales of?beautiful women. MacGuire reasoned that, if this had happened to?Skye, then the Dey would not be able to trace her.

“I don’t want to believe it, my lord, but if Mistress Skye is alive?then where is she?”

Niall Burke was stunned. Skye dead? No! Not Skye. Not his?vibrant Skye with her Kerry-blue eyes and her proud spirit. No! His?shoulders began to shake as the dry sobs took hold and racked him?mercilessly. Stumbling from the bed, he lurched across the room,?through the French doors and out onto the terrace. All around him?everything throbbed with life and they said his Skye was dead!?Clutching the cool marble balustrade, he howled his frustration and?anger at the unfairness of it all, howled and shouted until his voice?was so hoarse that he made no sounds at all.

He felt an arm about him, heard a soft voice making soothing?sounds he could not comprehend, allowed himself to be led back?inside where he barely reached the bed before he collapsed, uncon-?scious. Constanza Cuidadela shook her head as she drew the covers?over him. She felt his forehead.

“The fever is back, Captain MacGuire. You must sit with him?tonight for my father will not excuse me from my punishment. I will?tell you what to do.”

MacGuire nodded. “He’s not an easy man, your father.”

The girl did not reply. She went quietly about her business, caring?for the unconscious Niall. Smoothing the pillows first, she next?tucked the sheets about her patient and, finally, placed the frosted?pitcher on the bedside table.

“You can do very little, Captain, except to keep him as quiet and?as comfortable as possible. Ana will bring a basin of scented water?shortly, and she’ll come again during the night.” The vespers bells?began to toll, and Constanza said, “I must go. When the fever breaks,?change his nightshirt and the sheets. Ana will help.” And then she?was gone.

MacGuire tended Niall throughout the night. Strangely, Niall was?not restless, but lay ominously quiet as the burning fever consumed?his big body. Diligently the O’Malley captain cared for his charge,?bathing his forehead regularly with the cool, scented water, gently?forcing the sweet juice down his throat. During the night, the servant?woman, Ana, appeared regularly, bringing fresh water and juice for?the sick man. Once she brought a tray for MacGuire with a small?cold chicken, bread, fruit, and a carafe of sweet golden wine.

As she silently placed his tray on the long walnut table, MacGuire?asked, “How is the lass?”

Ana’s black eyes blazed. “She prays in the chapel for your master,?senor,” she said tersely. Then she left.

MacGuire ate hungrily, drank half the carafe, and returned to?Niall’s bedside. Toward dawn he dozed in his chair only to be?startled awake by a great cry of anguish. Lord Burke sat straight up?in the bed, his eyes tightly shut, the tears pouring down his face.?He sobbed bitterly, “Skye! Skye! Don’t leave me, beloved! Come?back! Come back!”

MacGuire was immobilized for a moment by the terrible anguish.?Then he reached out and shook the weeping man gently. “My lord!?My lord! It’s only a bad dream.”