“I take it,” said Seamus O’Malley, “that de Marisco is not expecting a woman.”
“He’s expecting the O’Malley of Innisfana, Uncle,” said Skye with a smile. “It’s not my fault if he doesn’t know that the O’Malley is a female.”
The bishop laughed. “Let us go topside, Niece. There’ll be no real dark this night, as it’s Midsummer’s Eve. We’ll get a good lookat the island. I imagine its inhabitants will be celebrating the holiday with pagan fervor.”
They left the cabin together, and after Seamus O’Malley had given MacGuire his instructions, the two O’Malleys stood at the ship’s rail. Lundy got its name from the old Norse word, lunde, which was the word for puffin, a bird. The island loomed above the ship, great granite cliffs towering darkly into the lavender half-dusk. The place had a barbaric beauty about it. The island was covered in pasturage upon which herds of sheep grazed. It also served as a breeding ground for sea birds. At one end of the island was a lighthouse. At the other stood the ramshackle ruins of de Marisco Castle, with the only landing place on the island.
MacGuire’s boat bumped the quay. Securing his craft, he quickly walked the length of the stone pier. At the end of the pier a ship’s supply shop had been set up alongside an inn. The inn was not crowded yet. MacGuire sat down at a table. A very buxom serving wench in a soiled blouse leered over him. “Wot’s your pleasure, Cap’n?”
“I want to see de Marisco.”
“Everyone does, dearie, but he don’t see just anyone.”
“He’ll see me. I’m expected. From the O’Malley of Innisfana’s ship.”
“I’ll go ask,” said the girl, walking off.
O’Malley looked about him. The walls of the inn were the original stone walls of the castle, and they were damp with green mold. The rushes on the floor had seen better days, and were matted down and mixed with old bones for which several scrawny dogs now snarlingly vied. The few tables were none too clean, and both the fireplace and the tallow torches smoked.
The wench returned. “He says you’re to follow me.”
MacGuire got to his feet and hurried after the girl. Anything was better than this hellhole. The serving wench led him up a flight of open stone steps, stopping at the top to knock on the massive oak door. “In there, Cap’n.” MacGuire pushed through into the room, and his jaw dropped in surprise.
The room was positively opulent, the most splendid the Irishman had ever seen. The walls were hung with velvet and silk tapestries, the stone floors covered by magnificent, thick sheepskins. A huge fireplace burned with sweet-scented applewood even on this Midsummer’s Eve. On the long oak table were two large golden, twisted candelabra burning beeswax tapers.
In a great thronelike chair at the table’s head sprawled a giant.Though he was seated, MacGuire could see that he must stand at least six foot six inches tall. His hair was as black as night, as was his full, well-barbered beard. His eyes were a sensuous smoky blue. He sported a gold earring in his left ear. His doublet was of fine, soft leather, his white silk shirt was open, revealing a thick mat of hair growing upward from his navel. His hose were a dark-green wool, and his huge brown leather boots rose well over his knees. In his lap sat two pretty young girls, both naked from the waist up, who were feeding dainties from silver platters to the lord of Lundy.
“Sit down, man!” came the booming command. “Glynis!” Adam de Marisco dumped one of the girls from his lap. “Serve my guest.”
The girl good-naturedly picked herself up off the floor, rubbing her prettily rounded posterior as she did so, and poured a goblet of wine for MacGuire. MacGuire swallowed hard at the close proximity of the girl’s big breasts. The nipples were as large as Spanish grapes.
“She’s yours for the night,” chuckled de Marisco, and Glynis cheerfully plumped herself into the Irishman’s lap. MacGuire grinned, delighted. “I like your style of hospitality, by God I do, m’lord! If the O’Malley doesn’t sail tonight, I will gladly accept your gift.” He raised the goblet to his host. “Your health, sir!”
De Marisco nodded. “I’ll see your master as soon as he comes ashore. This will be a busy night, with many celebrations. Would the O’Malley and his men like to join us?”
MacGuire hid a smile. “I’ll go immediately, and take the O’Malley your invitation.” MacGuire stood, dumping poor Glynis.
De Marisco was bored tonight. As the Irishman left the room, he wondered if the O’Malley’s visit would herald any excitement. He doubted it. But several minutes later his smoky eyes widened with surprise as the captain returned with the O’Malley. “Christ’s sacred bones!” he swore. “Awoman!?What the hell kind of a joke is this, MacGuire?”
“My lord, this is the O’Malley of Innisfana.”
“I don’t do business with women,” came the flat reply.
“Afraid, my lord?” drawled Skye softly.
With a roar of outrage the giant stood, dumping the one remaining girl from his lap. She scrambled up and cowered with Glynis while Adam de Marisco stomped over to Skye and towered over her in his most intimidating manner. MacGuire began getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Though he was a brave man, he was old, and he hadn’t a chance against this giant.
De Marisco stared fiercely down. The woman, instead of trembling like the other two females, stared boldly up at him. He began to cool down a little, and realized that he liked what he saw. He began to chuckle. She was a brave one, and beautiful as well.
“I own,” she began abruptly, “close to two dozen ships of various sizes. One of my fleets has just finished a successful three-year voyage to the East Indies. I’m a rich woman. I have a quarrel with someone in a high place. To avenge myself against this person I’ll need assurance that Lundy Isle is open to my ships. You’ll be paid well.”
De Marisco was instantly intrigued. “How high a place?” he asked.
“Elizabeth Tudor,” came the cool reply.
“The Queen?” He whistled. “Are you serious, woman, or merely mad?” He peered down at the woman who faced him. “By God, youareserious!” He began to chuckle, and the chuckle grew into a great roar of mirth that shook the entire room.
Skye stood her ground, unblinking. “Well, de Marisco, do we do business or do we not?”
