All the Sweet Tomorrows (58 page)

He encountered no one along the short route to his own quarters. Hamal was awaiting him with the Janissary captain’s costume. Niall dressed quickly, and as he slipped the clothing on he felt sure and strong for the first time in months. As Hamal adjusted the sash about his waist and fixed the hat upon his head, Niall nervously popped jellies into his mouth. It was going to
work! He knew it was going to work. His spirits soared! In a few minutes he would be outside the Dey’s palace in the city of Algiers, and Robbie would be awaiting him.

“Now remember, Ashur,” Hamal cautioned, “if you are stopped you must reply in Turkish. You could not have reached a captain’s rank unless you spoke Turkish.

“Go back to Turkhan’s chambers, and leaving through her bedchamber, cut across the Dey’s garden to the western wall. You will find a door hidden beneath the vines halfway down the wall. It is open, and the hinges have been oiled so it should swing silently. Keep to the shadows. You should have very little trouble, for the garden is not brightly lit, but be cautious. Someone could be wandering. The old Dey, it is said, does not sleep well; or perhaps one of his women. One of your own people will be waiting for you on the other side of the wall.”

“Hamal!” Niall grasped the younger man’s hands in his. “How can I thank you?”

“Ashur, my friend, if I did not think that you were wrong for my Turkhan, I should not do this. She is in love with you, and your defection will cause her pain. I will, of course, be here to ease that pain. I understand your feelings for your beautiful wife, and I have ever been a fool for happy endings. We will both be happy—you with your lady, I with mine. Go now while all sleep!” He pressed a small flat gilt box in Niall’s hand. “A small token. Those damned jellies that you like so well made just as old Rabi prepares them for you.”

Niall grinned almost boyishly. “Farewell, my young friend Hamal, and thank you.” Then he was quickly gone from the room.

Hamal heaved a soft sigh of relief. In just a few short minutes Ashur would be gone from their lives, and Turkhan would be his alone! She would be angry and heartbroken by turns. She would demand that the Dey find her favorite, but within the hour Niall would be safely at sea. Turkhan would have no choice but to turn to him for her solace. Faithful Hamal. A small smile played about his lips. Faithful Hamal, who would soon be a free man again, a man who could legally claim half of his brother’s wealth, as well as all of his princess wife’s. He chuckled. Kedar would be quite surprised to discover his adversary was as ruthless as he himself was. And why not? Had he not learned at his brother’s knee before Kedar had so cruelly sold him into slavery? Hamal slipped silently back into his own small chamber next to Ashur’s, and, lying down, fell into a guiltless and satisfied sleep.

In the meantime Niall had quietly re-entered Turkhan’s chamber. For a moment he stood over her, staring down at this bold woman who had demanded everything from him, expecting no less. Then without a backward glance he walked into the warm, black night of the Dey’s garden. Briefly he stood listening in the shadows, and then hearing no sound other than the night insects, he began his stealthy walk across the garden to the west wall. He moved quickly and silently, pausing every few minutes to listen, to look about him. High above him on the walls of the palace the Dey’s own men paced their watch, but not quite as alertly as usual, being full with food and fermented fruit juices. Only a direct attack by the infidel would have roused them now.

Ahead of him was a small fountain that he was forced to circumvent. He paused for a moment, confused as to his direction, and for a brief second panic set in. But breathing deeply to calm his fears, Niall pressed onward, finally gaining the western wall. Carefully he felt his way along it, the thorny vines catching at his clothing. He smothered a curse as his hands grew badly scratched and pricked, but at last he felt the smooth surface of the little door beneath his bleeding palms. Sliding his hands downward, he found the latch. Slowly, cautiously he pressed down on the handle, and the door swung silently open. For a surprised moment he stared out into the street, then almost leapt through onto the cobbles, banging his forehead in the process. This elicited another curse. Then, remembering his danger, Niall Burke pulled the little garden door closed behind him, and hurried off down the street.

At the bottom of the street a shadow joined him from a doorway, and he almost wept to hear a soft Devon voice say, “Let’s go, m’lord! Wouldn’t do to have the Turks catch us now, would it?”

“Robbie? Is it you?” His heart was hammering joyously, and even the damned English tongue sounded good to his ears after so many months of first French, and then Arabic and Turkish.

“Aye, m’lord, ’Tis me, and glad it is I am to see you. We’ve not far to go, but ’twould be best if we were silent now lest we cause suspicion by our speech. Follow me!”

The ease of his escape after so many months of torturous captivity amazed Niall. Robbie was dressed like a corsair Reis, and the few people they passed thought nothing of the two men, one a Reis, the other a Janissary captain walking together toward the harbor. They reached it fairly quickly, for the Dey’s palace was quite nearby. Niall followed Robbie through the maze of docks until they arrived at a vessel he recognized as Skye’s flagship.
With suddenly shaking legs he somehow managed to mount the gangway, expecting at any minute to hear a commanding voice from behind shout at him to stop. There was no voice, and he gained the deck to again follow Robbie into the main cabin.

“Sit down, m’lord.” Robbie moved quickly to the sideboard and poured Niall a generous dollop of smoky Irish whiskey. He didn’t like the look of the man’s color at all. Handing it to the seated man, he said, “Drink it, m’lord. I’ve got to go topside and get us underway.”

“Where is Skye, Robbie?”

“The plan was that we get you out first. Lady Burke will be coming along in a few more nights.”

“No! I’ll not leave without her, Robbie!” Niall had risen in protest.

“M’lord,” Robbie said patiently, although his blood was beginning to boil angrily, “I have not the time to explain it to you, for we are yet in danger. But I promise I will come back once we have cleared the harbor. If you are considering acting foolishly, remember all the lives involved in getting you out, especially Lady Burke’s.” He then turned on his heel and slammed out of the cabin.

Defeated, Niall sat heavily and pondered the amber liquid in his glass. He didn’t understand, and he was frightened for Skye. Was she even alive? He had caught glimpses of her as they had traveled from Fez to Algiers, although it hadn’t been easy. She had been forced to ride in a heavily guarded, silk-draped wagon. At least he and Hamal had been given horses to ride, although they were expected to pace their mounts on either side of Turkhan’s palanquin. He had not even managed a small sight of her in the last week before they reached Algiers, and then he had been housed in the Dey’s palace while she had gone with Kedar to Osman’s home. Surely if she were dead, or injured, or ill, they would have told him, wouldn’t they? Reaching into his robes, he drew out the gilt box Hamal had given him. He opened it and devoured three jellies. For some reason they always seemed to help him when he grew edgy.

He frowned irritably. He was a man. He had never been given to fears and qualms before he had come to Algiers. Granted, his had been a rather harrowing experience, but surely the shock would wear off now that he was safe among his own people again. When he could hold Skye in his arms once again it would be all right. He needed his wife. He needed Skye! Absently he reached for another jelly, and then he rose and refilled his goblet,
savoring the whiskey as outside on the deck he heard the noise and the activity of the sailors beginning to get the ship underway. He heard the gentle creak of the vessel as it eased away from its dock and began to make its way out of the harbor. Looking out of the great window at the stern of the cabin, he saw the dark outline of the city, of the palace itself where Turkhan lay soundly asleep, unsuspecting that he had at last escaped her web. Dawn would not break for several hours yet, and by then they would be safely at sea. He didn’t know how long he sat silently watching as the city grew more and more distant, but suddenly he felt the full swell of the sea as the ship passed out of the sheltered harbor.

The door to the cabin opened and Robert Small entered the room again. “There now, m’lord. We’re safely away.”

“Skye? Why isn’t she aboard?” Niall demanded anxiously.

Robbie poured himself a whiskey and seated himself next to Lord Burke. “It was thought if you both escaped at the same time a link between you might be established which would in time lead back to Osman and his family. “ ’Twould be a poor way to repay Osman, for ’twas he who told us you were yet alive, and arranged for Lady Burke to get to Fez to verify your existence.”

“When will she come, Robbie? When?” Niall stuffed another jelly into his mouth, which, despite the whiskey, seemed dry and scratchy.

“A few days at the most, m’lord. We’ll just sit quietly off the coast waiting for her. Bran Kelly and his crew will be there to take her out.”

Niall nodded. “He’s a good man, Bran. Did he ever marry Skye’s little Daisy?”

“Last year, m’lord, and within nine months of the wedding she gave him a red-faced and squalling son. They’re waiting in Devon for you both.”

“No England,” Niall said. “I want to see Ireland again! I want to go home.”

“The children, most of them, are at Wren Court with Cecily.”

“My bairns?” Niall was surprised. “Why?”

“Mistress Skye felt them safer with Cecily in Devon.”

“Safer than with my father at Burke Castle?” Again Niall was surprised by Skye’s seemingly strange actions.

Robbie hesitated a moment, and then he began to speak. He was going to have to tell Lord Burke everything, for the man
was full of questions, having been out of touch almost three years.

When his friend had finished, Niall nodded. Now he understood. Skye had done well despite the odds, but then she had always been competent in a man’s world. The fact that she had survived without him he found unreasonably irritating, even though he knew that she had done it before. She was an unusual woman, but he loved her.

“Then we wait,” he said to Robbie, and the little man heaved a great sigh of relief. Niall laughed. “What, Robbie? Did you think I was going to order an immediate attack upon the city of Algiers in order to rescue my wife?” He was beginning to feel better, almost elated with the sure knowledge that he would soon see her.

“You’ve been known in the past to act rashly, m’lord,” was the honest reply.

“True, Robbie. ’Tis a fault Skye’s often accused me of, but I think my time in captivity has taught me patience.” He grinned mischievously. “Although I will not guarantee it, for once I am back in my own land I may very easily revert to my old ways.”

Robbie chuckled. “I’ll not question yer behavior in Ireland, m’lord, only here while we have yet to regain Mistress Skye. Ye’ll find the cabin comfortable, and if you need anything you’ve but to ask. As you’ve said, we wait.”

In the early afternoon Skye met Alima in the baths, who whispered once they were out of earshot of the bath attendants, “Your husband escaped this morning, and is safely at sea, dearest lady.”

“Thank God!” Skye breathed, and Alima squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“Osman says that the princess is hysterical and furious by turns. The Dey is embarrassed that a prized slave could walk with ease from his well-guarded palace, and no one claims to have seen him go. He has not been seen in the town, and it is a great mystery. The city guards have, of course, been doubled. It will be difficult for the next few days for you to leave. My husband advises patience.”

Skye laughed ruefully. “From the moment I was introduced to Kedar I have been patient, but the next days will be the worst, Alima. Still, knowing that my Niall is safe lifts the burden from my heart!”

Again Alima squeezed Skye’s hand and smiled warmly at her.
“Let us walk in the gardens after we have bathed,” she suggested, “and perhaps you will tell me again of life in your Queen’s fabulous court.”

“Of course!” Skye agreed generously. She knew how very much Alima enjoyed hearing of Elizabeth Tudor’s court, and French-born as she was, of the beautiful clothing worn by the men and women alike. Skye had many times explained in detail the quantity of beautiful gowns in her own possession, and as the two women wandered hand in hand in the garden she wondered if her clothes would now be all out of style. It was a thought she shared with Alima, who clapped her hands excitedly and exclaimed, “Oh, I hope so, lady Skye! Then you can have all new gowns made! How wonderful!”

Skye laughed, and it was the merry sound of her laughter that attracted the notice of the blond woman who had been pacing restlessly in Osman’s library. The woman peered through the latticework that covered the windows down into the garden. She stared hard, and her breath quickened with excitement. “Who are those women in your garden, lord Osman?” she demanded sharply.

Osman arose from the rather disquieting chart he had been silently reading, and peered down. “It is my wife, and my nephew’s favorite, Muna, who is her dearest friend. Why do you ask, lady Nilak?”

“The dark-haired one reminds me of someone I once knew.” She turned from the window with reluctance, and then asked, “Well, lord Osman? You are reputed to be the most famous astrologer in all of Algiers, in fact one of the best in the known world. What does my chart tell you?”

“It tells me you have done much evil, lady Nilak. It tells me that you are not one bit repentant for your wicked ways. You are as much the director of your own fate as are the stars.”

She laughed harshly. “I am not interested in the past, lord Osman. Tell me of the present! Will the lord Jamil marry me? Tell me of the future! Will the Sultan make him the new Dey? Will we rule Algiers together? These are the things that interest me, nothing more! Jamil has recommended you highly. Tell me what you see?”

“I see death in your chart,” he said flatly.