Bertrice Small - Skye O’Malley

“Khalid el Bey was my true mate!” she snapped angrily.

“No, Skye, he was not. He loved you deeply, never doubt it. And
I know that you loved him, but there is another man, a stronger
force in your life. He was with you before, and will return to you
in time. Follow your instincts, my dear. They will never fail you.”

“And my child?”

“Will be born safely, Skye, and live to a ripe old age, as will
you.”

“Thank you, Osman. I will always have my memories of Khalid
el Bey, but to have his child is a far dearer thing. Thank you for the
reassurance.”

The astrologer stood up. “I will go now, my dear, and I shall bid
you a final farewell now. Since I was away from the city when
Khalid died, it is understandable that I pay my condolences now.
If, however, the man who watches this villa so carefully for the
captain-governor should see me here again it will certainly seem
curious, and it will arouse suspicions, so I will not return.”

“Jamil has set men to watch my house?” she exclaimed. “How
dare he! The arrogance of the man!”

Osman laughed. “My dear, he fancies himself in Khalid el Bey’s
place and wishes to discourage any other suitors.”

“I would sooner wed a snake.”

“That will not be necessary,” replied the astrologer drily. “You
will easily escape him. He suspects nothing. When do you leave?”

“In two nights. It will be the dark of the moon.”

“Good, but be careful. What of your slaves?”

“I have freed them, and will give them money to start a new life.
Jean and Marie will come with me.”

‘Tell the others that I will employ any who choose to stay. Ask
those who prefer to go to remain here until I come to take possession
of the house in six days. If they go about their business as usual,
the captain-governor’s spies will suspect nothing. That will give you
a four-day start. It should be enough to get you out into the western
sea, and pursuit is virtually impossible then.”

“Oh, Osman, how can I thank you?”

He smiled at her. “By playing out your part as Allah has foretold
it, my dear.”

She walked with him back into the house, bidding him a final
farewell in the atrium. Taking his hand, she pressed it to her lips
and forehead. “Saalam, Osman, my friend.”

“Saalam, Skye, my daughter. Allah go with you.”

During the next few days Skye’s emotions fluctuated wildly. She
was frightened by the unknown awaiting her in the foreign-sounding
town of London. She was elated by the fact she was outwitting
Jamil, though frustrated that she could not inflict a terrible injury
on him in retaliation for Khalid’s murder. She was happy and relieved
that Jean, Marie, and Captain Small would be with her, but sad to
leave such good friends as Osman.

Then the night of her departure arrived, and she stood with Marie
making a final inventory of the few things she would take with her.
Most of her clothing would, of course, remain. This wardrobe was
hardly suitable to a life in England. She would, however, take some
caftans with her to be worn in the privacy of her bedchamber. The
flowing loose robes would be comfortable as her pregnancy went
on. The loose gemstones Khalid had kept, as well as her marvelous
jewelry, were all sewn into the garments for safe transportation. She
would take her wonderful gold brushes and combs, her crystal per-
fume bottles filled with rare and costly essences, and other things
of a sentimental and personal nature. They were all packed carefully
in carved cedarwood chests and passed quietly from servant to ser-
vant and finally to the silent English seaman who waited in the dark
outside the villa’s garden gate. Unaware of the little wicket gate,
Jamil had no one watching it.

Skye climbed to the roof of the house and gazed for one final
time over the city of Algiers. Below her, the night lights twinkled,
and she heard, faintly, the murmur of life as it brawled and sobbed
and laughed. Above her, the velvet heavens gleamed black, and she
stared deeply into them as if trying to pierce through the darkness.

“Oh, Khalid!” she sighed, then jumped, startled by the sound of
her own voice. She had not cried since the day they had buried him,
but now she wept without restraint. She stood in the center of the
roof terrace, her face upturned to the skies, letting her grief pour
over her. And when she had finished she said softly, ‘I shall never
grieve so deeply for you again, Khalid, my love. I have my mem-
ories, and I have our child, whom I regret will never know you.
Now, Khalid, I must leave our home, and I hope you will wish me
Godspeed. I wish you the same.” She stood quietly, and a great
peace flooded through her and she knew that he approved of what
she was doing. “Thank you, my love,” she said. Glancing around
the terrace a final time, she descended to the ground floor of the
house where the servants all waited to bid her good-bye.

She spoke quietly to each in turn, and they thanked her for their
freedom and the money she had given them. For now, they had all
deckled to remain in Osman’s employ. Her farewells over, she joined

Jean and Marie and walked through the gardens and then through
the little back gate.

By prearrangement, a closed litter awaited them. Entering it, they
sat wordless, each wrapped in his own thoughts. The bearers made
their way down into the city and to the docks. Captain Small awaited
them, and no sooner were they aboard his vessel, the Mermaid, than
the gangway and anchor were raised. While the first mate saw the
ship underway, Robert Small escorted his passengers to their quar-
ters.

Skye could not remember her arrival in Algiers, but she would
always remember her departure. On a hill overlooking the harbor
she could pick out the spot where her husband’s tomb stood. Loom-
ing above the city she saw the sinister towers of the Casbah. Marie
smiled grimly.

“We are well revenged, madam. This morning I sent the captain-
governor a plate of sweetmeats in your name. I made them myself.
One of the ingredients was an herb that will render the evil Jamil
impotent for all time. He will never hurt another woman with his
lust again.”

“Marie! It is perfect! Imagine his shock, and then his shame! Oh,
how I wish I might be there to see his agony!”

The two women stood watching in silence as the lights of the city
disappeared in the distance. Then Marie put an arm about Skye and
led her to her cabin where, for the first time in weeks, she slept
soundly. With the tension gone from her life Skye suddenly began
to behave like the pregnant woman she was. She developed peculiari-
ties of appetite and was frequently sleepy. She became queasy and
then seasick when the ship hit rough weather off the Bay of Biscay.

Marie and Jean sat with Captain Small one evening discussing
Skye’s welfare. They all agreed that London was not the place for
a delicate expectant mother.

“It is your country,” said Marie to the little Englishman. “Where
would be a good place for Madam to have her accouchement?”

“There are many pleasant places near London,” replied Captain
Small, “but I would prefer she was someplace far from the city. It’s
not just the child we must worry about. The lady Skye has had the
severe shock of her husband’s murder. She ought to be in a quiet
place. I have set course for my own home port, the town of Bideford
in Devon. I own a fine big house several miles outside the town.
My sister, Cecily, lives there. She will welcome you all, and adore
taking care of the lady Skye. After the babe is born your mistress
may continue on to London. But perhaps by then she will not wish
to go.”

Thus it was that the Mermaid rounded Hartland Point on a fine

October morning to sail into Barnstable Bay and then a little way
up the River Torridge to Bideford. As Skye stood at the ship’s rail.
watching the undulating woodland scenery that sloped down to the
riverbank, she saw with sure instinct that this was a safe haven.
Robert Small had been right. It was here that she would have her
baby in safety. Whatever else came afterward, she would find the
courage to face it.

As Osman had said, Skye was following her destiny.

England

The little town of Bideford, small though it was, was one of
the most prosperous seaports in England. Under the personal
protection of the great de Grenville family, Bideford was just
entering the period of its greatest prosperity when Skye arrived
there.

Set on the side of a long hill backed by a vast woodland, it sloped
downward to the river Torridge. Bideford, surrounded by rolling
hills, woodlands, fertile meadows, and orchards full of ripening
apples, was a most charming, colorful English town.

Although it was a seaport town, it was not situated directly on
Barnstable Bay. In order to reach Bideford, one had to cross the
estuary, avoiding the dangerous bar that stretched across its mouth.
The estuary was situated almost midway between Hartland Point and
the Rock of Death. Facing the bar estuary, some twenty miles away,
was Lundy Island. Its rocky, cloud-capped hills made Lundy Island
a favorite haunt of Devon pirates and smugglers and their counter-
parts from all over the world.

Safely across the bar and into the estuary, which flowed upland,
was the village of Appledore. At Appledore, the estuary forked,
becoming the Taw River to the left and the Torridge River to the
right. Now the countryside became lush with rich meadowland and
fruit orchards. A few miles up from Appledore the river reached
fertile, green Bideford. It was here, in the Bideford hills, that Robert
Small had his house, Wren Court.

Captain Small had made arrangements to be met at the dock when
he and Skye and the French couple disembarked, and the four rode
through the town and up the hills on two chestnut and two gray
mounts. The little party made a delightful picture riding against the
trees, trotting up the bright green hills.