The following morning as Skye was finishing her daily exercise period on the battlements, a captain of the guards stepped up to her. “Good morning, my lady. I am to escort you to Lord Cecil.” “Very well,” said Skye, her heart quickening. So at last they were going to question her. She was looking forward to the challenge of pitting her wits against Cecil’s. She followed the guardsman through a maze of corridors until, finally, he ushered her into a paneled room with a small oriel window that overlooked the Thames. Seated at a long table were Cecil, Dudley, and two other men. She believed one was the Earl of Shrewsbury, the other Lord Cavendish. Seeing no chair for her, she said icily, “You surely do not expect a woman in my condition to stand, my lords?”
“Please remember that you are a prisoner here, madam,” said Lord Dudley meanly.
“And,” continued Skye, “unless that man is removed I shall leave this minute, Lord Burghley.”
“Please bring a chair for Lady Burke,” ordered Cecil. “Dudley, be silent.”
“I hope,” remarked Skye boldly as she settled herself with much display, “that you’ll be good enough to explain the meaning of my imprisonment. I have been kept in total ignorance for weeks now, and I am beginning to find this situation quite intolerable.” A grim smile touched the comers of Cecil’s mouth. “We were desirous of speaking with you in regard to the recent piracies occurring in Devon.”
Skye raised an elegantly winged eyebrow. “If you wished to speak to me, sir, why did you not simply do so? Was it necessary to imprison me? I am well aware of the piracy. I lost two ships last year myself. I regret to say that the Queen’s commission could not find the perpetrators. A fine penny it cost me!”
“You do not seem to have suffered overmuch financially,” remarked Cecil.
“I am a very rich woman, as you are well aware, my lord Burghley. Nevertheless I dislike losing money. My ships must be properly maintained, my captains and their men paid. They, in turn, feed the economy. It is a satisfactory circle which is broken when the spectre of piracy arises.”
“Clever, madam, but not clever enough to fool us,” snarled Dudley.
Skye turned her cool gaze on Robert Dudley. “You have grown paunchy with too much good living, my lord, but your brain is just as soft as ever.” The Earl of Leicester grew beet-red, and though his mouth opened and shut several times, no words issued forth. Shrewsbury and Cavendish snickered, and Cecil himself was hard pressed not to laugh. His turn, however, was coming. “If, my lords, you have formal charges to place against me, then do so! If not then release me, for you hold me illegally.” She then spoke directly to Cecil. “Lord Burghley, you insult me greatly by asking me to come before this panel. I will not appear before you again without formal charges, nor will I at any time come before any group of which Lord Dudley is a part. And you need not ask me why because you know why.” She stood, turned, and walked to the door.
“Stop her!” shouted Dudley to the guardsmen.
Skye whirled, surprisingly graceful despite her girth. Her deepblue eyes blazed with contempt. She placed her hands protectively over her belly and said fiercely, “I carry within me the heir to the MacWilliam. Lay rough hands upon me and harm that child, and even my pleas will not be able to stop the flame that will ignite all Ireland! If the Queen wishes war with my people, we will be happy to oblige her!” Then she turned again and left the room, unopposed. “Why didn’t you stop the little Irish bitch?” demanded Dudley of Cecil. “Who cares if her cub strangles on its own cord?” “My lord,” said Cecil evenly, “you sit on this panel because the Queen requested it and I am, in all things, the Queen’s loyal servant. You were not my choice, however, and I shall ask Her Majesty to reconsider her request. I agree with Lady Burke. You are offensive. Gentlemen, you are dismissed until the same hour tomorrow when we shall again attempt to question the Countess of Lynmouth.” It was not to be, however, for Skye had felt the first pangs of labor as she made her exit. Slowly, gritting her teeth against the pain, she followed the guardsman back through a maze of corridors, almost fainting as she climbed the stairs all the way back up to her tower, forcing her legs to climb again and again, though they were leaden and she could hardly lift them. Nearing the top, she groaned and sat down heavily.
Startled, the young captain of the guard turned. “My lady!” he cried. He leaped back down the steps. Supporting her with his strong arm, he helped her up the last few steps to her apartment, shouting for aid as he went. The door was flung open and both Eibhlin and Daisy hurried out to take Skye from the captain. “D’you need anything?” he asked worriedly.
Eibhlin smiled reassuringly at the young man. “No, thank you, Captain. We have everything we need. I would, however, inform the Tower governor that Lady Burke has gone into premature labor.” She lowered her voice to a whisper easily audible to both Skye and Daisy. “I hope we don’t lose them both. All this nonsense of arresting my poor sister, and what are the charges, Captain? There are none! Well, thank you for your aid. You’re a good Christian lad, and I’ll pray for you.” Then she shut the door firmly between them and the guard.
“Oh, Eibhlin!” Skye was laughing between contractions. “You’re the most unholy nun I’ve ever met! You terrified that poor, nice young guardsman. Now he’ll run all the way to Sir John, and tell him I’m at death’s door.”
“Good! We’ll make mem all feel guilty,” crowed Eibhlin as she and Daisy helped Skye undress. “What did Cecil want?” “Me to confess to piracy. It’s as I thought. They have no proof.” She winced as a wave of pain rolled over her. Suddenly her waters broke, flooding into a puddle at her feet. “Eibhlin! I think this child is going to be born right now!”
“Daisy! Quick, lass, drag the table in front of the fireplace.” Daisy struggled with the long oak table, grunting as she fought to push it across the room.
“Eibhlin! Help her! I can stand alone.”
Together the two women swung the oak board around before the blazing stone fireplace. Then Daisy ran upstairs to Skye’s bedchamber and came back down with the goose-down pillows, a pad, and a sheet that she and Eibhlin placed on the table. They then helped Skye up onto the table, and she half sat with her legs spread, the pillows propping her shoulders as she labored. Eibhlin washed her slender, strangely elegant hands in the basin that Daisy provided. Some weeks before, the nun had instructed Daisy concerning her birthing-room duties and now Daisy performed without fault. The nun-midwife leaned down to examine her patient. “Holy Mary! The child is half-bom,” she exclaimed. Reaching out, she carefully turned the slippery infant.
“I-told-you,” gasped Skye as a final contraction racked her. And then the child, fully born, began to squall loudly. “Is-he-all right? All his fingers-and toes?”
Eibhlin swiftly wiped the baby off and gazed down at the tiny face. “She’s fine, Skye! All her fingers and toes!”
“She? Oh, damn!” Then Skye laughed weakly. “Willow will love having a little sister, and I am happy to have another daughter, but the MacWilliam is going to be very disappointed.” “You’ll have others,” remarked Eibhlin drily.
Skye sent Eibhlin an amused look, thinking how good it was to have her matter-of-fact big sister with her. How long, she wondered, would the Queen allow Eibhlin to stay now that the child was born? A thunderous knocking began on the door.