Both Michael O’Malley and Bearach O’Dowd were men of great appetite. They handily finished Jeannine’s offerings as well as a loaf of crusty bread and a crock of sweet butter from Normandy that had been placed upon the table. A large decanter of Burgundy from the Archambault vineyards was emptied as well.
Jeannine smiling from ear to ear at the priests’ flattering appreciation of her culinary skills, served the sweet herself. It was a large tartlet of pears set within a delicate, cakelike crust that had been filled with a sweet custard. The goblets were refilled with a light, fruity white wine. Both clerics raised their goblets to Jeannine who, already flushed from the heat of her kitchen, turned a deeper pink in her pleasure.
Their meal completed, Michael and Bearach adjourned back to the library. Their glasses refilled, they settled themselves cosily before the fire. Outside the winter storm howled noisily, rattling the windows.
“What brings an Irish bishop to Paris, Michaeleen?” The Jesuit’s curiosity was finally aroused.
“ ’Tis a family matter,” came Michael’s calm reply, “and ’twas thought that since your aunt is an O’Malley and you’re therefore a part of the family that you’d like to aid us.”
“If I can,” was Bearach’s canny answer.
“Aye, you can.”
“Well, out with it, man! Unless you’re planning to keep me here all night.” “You’ll remember my sister, Skye,” began Michael.
“And who could forget that beautiful creature?” demanded Bearach. “Has she outlived another husband, then, Michaeleen? Or is she still wed to that big man, de Marisco, was it?”
“Adam de Marisco, and, aye, they’re still happily married. ’Twill be eighteen years this Michaelmas.”
“Well, what’s the problem, then?” asked Bearach O’Dowd.
“I’d best begin at the beginning,” said Michael. “Several years ago my sister and her husband departed England for a voyage to the East Indies. As you’ll remember Skye and her partner, Sir Robert Small, have had a profitable relationship for many, many years with a number of the island sultans. Their ship was damaged in a storm and blown off course. They ended up becalmed just off Bombay and were taken in tow by the Portuguese.”
Bearach O’Dowd nodded, all the while thinking to himself that Skye O’Malley’s destination had probably been India all along, and that she had likely been on an expedition for the English with an eye toward opening trade with the Grand Mughal himself. He doubted the Portuguese, and their Spanish masters, would have liked that.
“The Portuguese governor took my sister, her husband, and their ship and crew hostage, forcing my nephew, Captain Murrough O’Flaherty, to return to England in his own vessel to fetch the ransom demanded,” Michael continued. “The governor was under the direct influence of, and guided by, his Jesuit advisor Father Ourique.”
“Are you holding the Jesuit order responsible then for the irresponsible act of one man, Michaeleen?”
“Wait, Bearach, there is a good deal more. Hear me out, and then we will discuss our differences.”
The Jesuit nodded, then listened intently as his old friend told the tale of Velvet’s misadventures.
“Jesus Christus!” exploded Bearach O’Dowd when Michael had finished. He could now see what his old friend and playmate was getting at. The O’Malleys were holding the Jesuits responsible for the kidnapping of one of their own. Here was a fine kettle of fish! In their own small way the O’Malleys of Innisfana, though but a minor branch of the great seafaring family, had a certain amount of influence, and a great deal of money behind that influence.
Bearach O’Dowd’s nimble mind scrambled to remember what he could of Velvet de Marisco. Her father was not of an important family, but de Marisco’s stepfather, the Comte de Cher, was highly thought of by the French royal family, and despite the fact that there was currently a civil war raging in France over the succession, royal connections were not to be sneezed at. Holy Father! The girl’s godmothers were Queen Margot herself and Elizabeth of England! Was it possible that the actions of one greedy priest could destroy the Jesuits’ reputation and ruin their years of hard work?
Gathering his wits, Bearach O’Dowd said in a voice that belied his thumping heart, “How is it you think the Jesuits might help you, Michaeleen? I don’t quite understand what it is you want.”
Michael O’Malley hid a smile. Bearach, his old and good friend, was no fool. His position within the order was that of banker. He had a knack for increasing wealth through investments that endeared him to his superiors. That talent gave him a certain amount of power. “There are Jesuits at the Emperor Akbar’s court, Bearach,” he said. “The emperor, I am told, was born a Moslem, and my sister, Skye, who knows these things says that no honest Moslem will take unto his bed the wife of a living man. Skye, has sent me to you, Bearach. She holds the Jesuit order responsible for Velvet’s plight, but she also believes that you can aid her, aid me in getting to Akbar’s court to present our case before the emperor. The O’Malleys would be most grateful, Bearach.”
“How grateful?”The two words were sharp and clear.
“Very grateful,”was Michael’s equally enigmatic reply, but the two men understood each other. The O’Malleys would not settle upon a price until they got what they wanted, but they would be very generous in the end.
“It is possible that we might be able to help you, Michaeleen, but mind you we cannot accept responsibility for the actions of one foolish priest.”
“A Jesuit, Bearach. One of your own, not just some random priest. Otherwise I should be in Rome and not Paris,” Michael O’Malley gently reminded him.
“Of course, old friend, and you have but to tell me what it is that you want.”
“The Jesuits are welcome at Akbar’s court, Bearach. I have even heard talk of his conversion.”
Bearach O’Dowd snorted. “A dream of glory-seekers, but never say I told you so, Michaeleen. ’Tis my opinion that they’ll never convert him, and that opinion is held by those in the higher strata of the order than I, but ’twill never be admitted aloud. Still, he welcomes us to his court and does nothing to hinder our conversion of the population.”
“Then a letter of introduction from the Jesuits will obtain me an interview with the emperor, Bearach. It will keep the Portuguese from hindering me in my mission. I do not intend to land at Bombay at any rate, but rather I shall debark at Cambay. That port is under the emperor’s control. After that it will be a journey of at least six weeks overland in order to reach Akbar’s capital of Lahore.”
“If he is in Lahore, Michaeleen. It is said that the emperor, like Elizabeth Tudor, travels his land regularly.”
