"With what?"

"A small estate," said Miguel de Guaras smoothly. "Surely that will make up for the loss of this woman's puny lands."

"Puny lands!" Cavan's face grew mottled with his anger. "Have ye any idea the size of her estates, ye fool? Several thousand acres is what ye've lost me! And the heiress next door for my future son! An heiress with an equally large holding! I was going to build a dynasty, de Guaras, and now ye offer me in exchange a small estate in some G.o.dforsaken village of Spain? And what of her wealth? Her gold? Will yer d.a.m.ned king make up for that as well?"

"King Philip's generosity extends only to giving ye lands, FitzGerald, and ye should be grateful to him. As for gold, well, my innocent Irish fool, ye have a prime opportunity to gain a small fortune if ye would but open yer eyes."

"What the h.e.l.l do ye mean?" demanded Cavan angrily.

"What do ye intend to do about yer cousin? Ye can't let her go now, can ye ?"

"What do I care about her," said Cavan FitzGerald meanly. "Strangle the b.i.t.c.h for all I care! She's no use to me now."

"She's gold in yer pocket, amigo!"

"What?"

"London is an international port, man. How do ye think we're getting out of here tonight? We're going down to the river, amigo, and hiring a werryman to row us into the London pool to the ship of an old friend of mine; Rashid al Mansur."

"A Moor?"

"No, a Spaniard who decided the crescent was far more profitable than the Cross. In Spain they call him a renegade, but it has never detracted from our friendship. Rashid brings little luxuries to England. Oranges and morocco leather goods. He returns with tin, and English wool, and more often than not a delectable girl for the slave markets of Algiers. Fair-skinned, light-eyed women are highly prized.

"Look at yer cousin, amigo. Fair-skinned, light-eyed, and hair like polished copper. She's no great beauty, but she's pretty enough, and she'll bring ye a fortune. That's better than killing her, isn't it? Killing her will gain ye nothing. Selling her will bring ye wealth."

"Cavan, ye can't!" Aidan cried. She was suddenly terrified but not just for herself, for her baby. "Cavan, I am with child!"

"That is even better!" said Miguel de Guaras. "A fiery-haired woman with fair skin and a big belly. The Turks and the Arabs love a fertile woman! Ye'll get double the price!"

"And how the h.e.l.l am I to arrange for that? Do I go to Algiers with her?"

"No, no, amigo, it is not necessary. My brother, Antonio, he who is now imprisoned by the English, did business with Rashid al Mansur for all the years he was Spain's agent here in England. Each time Rashid was ready to return to Algiers, Tonio would arrange to find a little yellow-haired, blue-eyed girl to send with him. Some London waif or another that no one would miss. When the sale was made Rashid would take his ten-percent commission, and the rest of the monies would be deposited via the Kira bank into Tonio's account either here in England or at home in Spain. The same thing can be done for ye. Rashid will let us off at dawn on the French coast. From there we will make our sway to Spain. The king will give ye yer lands, and when yer cousin has been sold in Algiers, the wealth she brings ye will be deposited through the Kira bank in Algiers to the Kira bank in Spain. Is that not simple enough?"

"What do ye think she'll bring?"

Miguel de Guaras looked at Aidan with a critical eye. "I'd have to see her naked, but from what I can see, I'd say several hundred pounds. It is not the wealth ye lost, but 'tis a fine amount, and the truth of the matter is, amigo, that ye'll be far better off than ye've ever been in yer entire life. Wealth, and lands, and with those the hope of a respectable wife. A wife who doesn't know, and can never learn of the sad accident of yer birth. Think well, amigo."

Aidan was horrified by what she had heard. This whole thing had been a mad plot to bring down Conn's family, but she didn't understand why, nor did it matter. What mattered was that she had to escape these two men who talked so casually of selling her into some kind of slavery. She stood up, and both men turned to her.

"I have no intention of standing by while ye kidnap me," she said bravely. "Cavan, if ye don't open that door I am going to start screaming. I will scream louder and longer than anyone ye've ever heard in yer entire life. I will not allow ye to be responsible for Conn's death! I love my husband! Whatever made ye think I could love ye? I despise ye! As a man yer a jest!"

He hit her a blow that sent Aidan reeling, her hand to her face. "b.i.t.c.h! I only wanted ye for yer money!" he said cruelly.

"Amigo," cautioned de Guaras, "do not damage yer merchandise lest ye drive the price down."

"She's an overproud b.i.t.c.h," said FitzGerald. "Neither her father, nor that pretty husband of hers ever beat her. She needs it!"

"There is no time, amigo," said de Guaras. "Let whoever buys her see to her discipline. Yer angry now, and ye could hurt her, and ye would, I promise ye, regret it. She is valuable merchandise." He smiled toothily at Aidan. "Ye have not finished yer wine, madonna," he said in a silky voice. "Let me freshen it for ye." He took the goblet from the table, and without any pretense emptied some powder into it from one of his rings. Then he added additional liquid, and handing it to her he ordered her: "Drink!"

Aidan stared down into the cup horrified. She could see nothing but the reddish wine. Whatever he had put so boldly into the goblet had instantly dissolved. "What did ye put into it?" she demanded, her voice slightly shaky.

"It will not kill ye," he responded without answering her query. "Drink!"

"Never!" Aidan shouted, and she attempted to stand up once again.

Miguel de Guaras was of no mind to argue. He had but one interest now. To leave England. With surprising strength for so slight a man he pushed her back into the chair, barking an order to Cavan at the same time. "Hold her down, amigo. I will see she drinks," and as Cavan went behind Aidan and pinioned her arms so she might not prevent him, Miguel de Guaras pinched Aidan's nose shut with two fingers, and when she was finally forced to open her mouth to gasp for breath, he forced the potion down her throat.

Aidan gagged, and choked in an attempt to spit the wine out before she swallowed it, but releasing his grip on her nose de Guaras used his two hands to close her jaws, thereby impelling her to swallow. With a burst of superhuman strength Aidan tore one of her arms free, and struck him a hard blow. The Spaniard grunted, surprised, and staggered slightly while Aidan opened her mouth and began to scream at the top of her lungs. Cavan FitzGerald released his grip upon his cousin, and leaping around the chair hit her on the chin. With a look of total surprise on her face, Aidan slumped, unconscious.

"Do ye think anyone heard her?" Cavan said.

Miguel de Guaras shook his head. "These rooms are at the back of the building. The window was closed, and the dining room is full right now. No one heard her over the din of all those voices, the eating, and the serving people. Now, amigo, go and tell the lady's coachman that ye'll personally escort yer lady cousin back to her home after she has taken the evening meal with ye."

"What if he insists upon waiting?" Cavan was becoming nervous. He suddenly realized the implications of what he had done, of what he was doing, should he be caught.

"He will not question ye at all. English servants are such an independent lot that he will be delighted for an evening off. Tell him that her ladyship says he may have the evening off. That will do it, I guarantee it."

Cavan hurried from the room, and Miguel de Guaras smiled. The Irishman was a fool, he thought, and then he shrugged. If it were up to him he would eliminate him, but the king had been most specific. Cavan FitzGerald was to be brought to Spain where he would continue to be of use to Philip. He would indeed be given his land, and a wife would be found for him, to help bind him even more to Spain; and then just when he was feeling comfortable and safe, he would be brought to the king to learn the real price of all his newfound wealth. Spain needed men like Cavan FitzGerald to foment trouble in Ireland, to prepare for the eventual uprising against England that Spain would finance.

At least, thought Miguel de Guaras, he had saved his king the monies he had intended to bestow upon Cavan. Selling off the Irishman's cousin in Algiers had been a stroke of genius on his part. He moved to the chair where she was slumped, and tipped her head back. Pretty, he thought to himself again, but no great beauty. Still in all the hair, the eyes, and the skin more than made up for it. It really would have been too much had she been beautiful as well. His gaze moved downward as he remembered Cavan saying she had plump t.i.ts. He pulled the lace from her bodice for a better look, and a creamy flesh swelled provocatively. Very nice, he thought to himself. They would get a better look at the woman once safely aboard al Mansur's vessel later tonight, but for now it appeared as if she would bring a pretty penny to FitzGerald.

The door opened readmitting the Irishman. "Her coachman's gone, de Guaras. Now when can we get out of here?"

"Immediately," said the Spaniard. "Rashid al Mansur is expecting us although our little bit of extra baggage will come as a surprise to him. A pleasant one, however. Let us depart through the window and go out through the back courtyard so no one will see us. It being the dinner hour all will be engaged. The bill is paid through today so the landlord will have no cause for complaint, but it is best no one know when we went, nor see us with the lady." He picked up Aidan's cloak which he had taken from her as she entered earlier, and with Cavan's aid managed to get it around the unconscious woman.

"Put the hood up about her face," said de Guaras. "If we meet anyone in the street we don't want them remembering her red hair."

Neither man had much baggage, just a few changes of linen, and they were willing to leave that behind in their flight. Cavan opened the window, and climbed out. The Spaniard half-lifting, half-dragging Aidan managed to get her over to the window where Cavan pulled her through. Miguel de Guaras followed, and carefully drew the window closed behind him. Balancing the woman between them they moved carefully across the inner courtyard and out the alley behind the Swan. A dark shadow scuttled across their path, too large for a rat, either a small dog, or a cat. The two men crossed themselves, and continued on down the alley which led to the river. Above them they heard the sound of a window opening, and quickly flattened themselves and their burden against the wall of the house as both the contents of a slop jar, and the words "Guardez 'low!" emerged from the building at the same time.

The alley was very dark, and here and there slippery with the slime of garbage of all descriptions. It had been a warm day, and the air in the alley was fetid and stunk with a thousand unpleasant odors, not the least of which was the mud flats of the low tide from the river ahead. Reaching it they could only stand helpless and wait for a werryman with a large enough boat to come by, and they worried about finding one for already a fog was beginning to arise from the Thames. Then just as Cavan was thinking he would have to begin walking downriver to find a vessel for them one came rowing out of the log, and they eagerly hailed it. To their relief the boatman pulled for the sh.o.r.e, and took them on.

"Is the laidy all right then?" he asked helping to drag Aidan aboard. "It ain't plague, is it?"

"Nay, man," laughed Cavan lightly. "My wife is young, and not used to good wine. She is drunk!"

The werryman poled into the middle of the river, nodding. "My old woman is just like that. Some just don't have a head for it. Wine is a rich man's drink." Then he asked, "Where will ye be going, sir?"

"To the Gazelle in London pool," said Miguel de Guaras.

"The Gazelle it is, sirs," said the werryman, and he began to row downriver.

Chapter 8.

The Gazelle, having taken on its pa.s.sengers, weighed anchor and slipped easily down the Thames with the outgoing tide. Its captain waited until his vessel had safely nosed out into the stretch of water that the English liked to call the English Channel before he joined his old friend Miguel de Guaras and his Irish companion. Settling themselves comfortably in Rashid al Mansur's cabin they shared a bottle of dark, red, wine, served to them by a silent black slave.

"Yer not so much a Muslim, Rashid, that ye still don't enjoy a fine bottle," Miguel de Guaras chided.

Rashid al Mansur laughed. "Old habits, especially bad habits, die hard, Miguelito. This will be the last bottle I enjoy until I return to Europe, however. In Algiers I keep strictly to the law of the Prophet."

"So yer a renegade," said Cavan bluntly. "I've heard of men like ye, but until now I'd never met one."

Miguel de Guaras winced delicately, and Rashid al Mansur turned cold eyes on Cavan. "I owe ye no explanations, Master FitzGerald, but I would suggest ye never use the word renegade in the presence of a man like me again. Have ye ever been a slave? Let me tell ye about slavery in Barbary. A slave is a thing without a soul. A slave is subject to its master's every whim. If a man chooses to destroy one of his slaves for no reason he can do it. Every breath a slave takes is dependent upon its master's goodwill. A slave has no rights, can own nothing, is nothing.

"Worst of all is the lot of a Christian slave who can receive brutal treatment for no other reason than his beliefs. Miguel has, I am certain, told ye that he, his brother, and I grew up together. Actually we are cousins. When I was sixteen I was caught in a slave raid, captured, and brought to Algiers to be sold. My fate was carefully outlined to me by the slavemaster in the state-controlled bagnio which is a combination clearinghouse, prison, and slave market. If I became a Muslim, he told me, my lot would be infinitely better for whoever bought me would eventually free me for my belief in Islam. I was fortunate for I was bought by an elderly sea captain to work in his gardens.

"Within a short time I converted to the faith of Islam to my master's delight. He freed me, and as he and his wife were childless they adopted me. He taught me his old trade, and I am pleased to say I became a kapitan reis before his death which made him very proud. My adoptive father left me a rich man. I am feared and respected by my peers. I might have clung to the faith of my homeland, but had I, I would now be dead after several unpleasant years in the quarries, or in the galleys.

"Tell me, Master FitzGerald, what would ye have done in my place?" and then Rashid al Mansur laughed for he knew the answer to that question. "Your scruples cannot be so great else ye would not be selling your own flesh and blood into bondage simply for gold," he noted dryly.

"I apologize for bringing aboard an extra pa.s.senger," said Miguel de Guaras.

"Our voyage is not that long, and we have plenty of food and water," replied Rashid al Mansur. "Actually I have several maidens aboard this trip by a stroke of good fortune."

"Several?" said Miguel de Guaras. "How did ye manage that?"

"Pure luck, amigo! Pure luck! I came across two young sisters whose mother had just died, and they were being dispossessed from their slum by an irate landlord to whom they owed money. He was ready to place those two delicate flowers in a local brothel. I paid him what he was owed plus a little extra, and took the girls with me back to the ship. They are eleven and ten, and both blond virgins! A third girl, another blond virgin, I bought from a friend of mine who has a brothel, and keeps an eye out for me when I am in London. He used to work for your brother, Tonio. This girl, however, is older. Thirteen, I believe she told me. I will clear a nice profit with those three plus my commission on the woman you brought me. Is she a virgin, too? She looks a bit old for it."

"She is in her early twenties," said Cavan, "and she is with child, or so she says. She is a prime piece of goods, a n.o.blewoman of impeccable breeding with hair like polished copper, fair skin, and light eyes of silvery gray."

Rashid al Mansur looked over to his bed where the caped figure of a woman lay. The Irishman certainly knew how to pander his merchandise, but he had yet to see that merchandise, and so he would reserve judgment. "What did ye give her?" he asked Miguel.

"Just a drop of sleeping powder," replied the Spaniard. "She'll doze several hours."

"Then let's strip her now and see what we've got," said the captain. "It'll be easier with her unconscious. Highborn wenches always carry on so, and ye end up having to tear the clothing from them. Her garments are expensive, and will bring a nice penny, too, if they are kept in decent condition."

The three set to work removing Aidan's garments. They were careful, indeed almost gentle, but when Cavan went to remove the necklace from his cousin's neck Rashid al Mansur stayed his hand.

"Leave it, Irishman! Naked upon the block such adornment will add interest to her." He signaled to his slave. "Take the woman's clothing, and put it away for sale. All but the chemise. She will need that while we are at sea."

The slave gathered up Aidan's clothes, and began to go through them looking for the undergarment he had been ordered to leave. Finding it he put it aside, and departed the room. The three men stared in awed silence down on the nude, sleeping woman.

"Madre de Dios," breathed the Spaniard, "she is perfection!" and he felt himself hardening, but he could not look away.

Cavan FitzGerald was speechless with surprise. He had not expected such a beautiful body on Aidan, but she was totally incredible with her long legs and torso, and her beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He, too, felt desire bolting through him. Maybe he shouldn't sell her. Maybe he should keep her for himself.

Rashid al Mansur correctly divined his thoughts. "Don't be a fool, Irishman," he said. "In the light of day there are few women who would bring you on the block of Algiers what this woman is going to bring you."

Cavan shook his head to clear it, and took a deep breath. "Yer right," he said, "but by G.o.d I'd have liked to have f.u.c.ked her once!"

They put her chemise back on, and then Rashid al Mansur called his slave to him, and had him carry the unconscious Aidan into the cabin next door where the other three girls were being kept. The slave gently placed her upon a straw pallet covered in a red cotton, and not once did she stir until morning colored the skies to the east over France.

Her head ached, and her mouth felt dry and unpleasant. Her belly cramped uncomfortably, and she thought hazily that her line with the moon must be broken and upon her. As that idea penetrated her brain Aidan gave a cry, and sat up. How could that be? She was with child! She felt a stickiness between her legs, saw the blood upon her chemise, and then she began to scream in earnest startling the three young girls sharing the little cabin with her into terror so that they began to shriek also.

The door to the cabin was opened, and a large black man hurried into the room. Aidan cried louder, totally confused, and frightened, and very much aware that she was losing her baby, Conn's baby. A hard pain tore into her, and she retched up a yellow bile. The black man took one look, and shouted some unintelligible words into the room behind him. Rashid al Mansur pushed by the slave, and went directly to Aidan.

"Stop screaming!" he said in a firm, no-nonsense voice, and surprised she did. "Tell me what the matter is, copper-haired woman." He spoke in English although his words were heavily accented.

"I am losing my child," she said, and she began to sob.

"It is G.o.d's will then," he answered her. "How far gone are ye?"

"Two months, perhaps a little more."

He nodded. "Lie down while I call for the physician."

She obeyed him, but asked as she did so, "Where am I?"

"In time, copper-haired woman. For now let us concentrate upon your difficulties." He turned to the black slave, and said, "Send for the physician."

The slave ran from the room, returning in a very few minutes with a small, white-robed elderly gentleman.

"The woman believes she is losing her child," Rashid al Mansur said to the doctor. "She is two months gone."

The physician nodded, and kneeling down examined Aidan with gentle hands, sighing, and shaking his head sadly. Finally he looked up. "The deed is already done, my lord kapitan reis, but she is young and will undoubtedly live to bear many fine sons. I will clean her up, and attend to her birth ca.n.a.l so that there will be no infection. She will be all right in a few days, and certainly by the time we reach home."

Rashid al Mansur looked to Aidan, and spoke in as kindly a fashion as he might considering what he had to tell her. "Achmet says you have indeed lost your baby, but that ye will live to bear many fine sons. He will take care of ye so that there is no infection. I am going to put ye in my own cabin for yer comfort."

"Who are ye?" she asked him.

"My name is Rashid al Mansur, and I am a kapitan reis out of the city of Algiers."

"Is that where we are going?"

"Aye."

"So ye may sell me into slavery?"

"Yes."

"Where is my cousin, Master FitzGerald?"

"He and his companion were put ash.o.r.e on the French coast just before dawn," said Rashid al Mansur.

"I am a very wealthy woman, captain. Turn back to England, and I will see ye well rewarded, far in excess of whatever commission ye might get from my cousin."

"I know your story, copper-haired woman," said Rashid al Mansur. "You have no monies."

"But I do!" Aidan insisted, and the tears began to pour down her face. "Telling my cousin I didn't was merely a ploy on the part of Lord Burghley to smoke out Cavan and his accomplice. Turn back, I beg ye!"

"Desperate women tell desperate lies," said Rashid al Mansur. "It could be that you are speaking the truth, copper-haired woman, but what if you are not? I could be arrested by your people, and thrown into prison, and easily lose everything that I have spent my life building. On the other hand if I go on to Algiers, you will bring your cousin a fine price on the slave block, and I will have a nice commission for my troubles. Tell me what you would do, copper-haired woman?"

"I know what ye are saying to me, captain," said Aidan, trying to keep the hysteria from her voice. "Ye are telling me that ye will not jeopardize all ye have for my sake, but I am not appealing to yer sense of greed, I swear it. Lord Burghley suspected that my cousin was involved in some plot against the queen. He knew that my husband was not, but they did not know if the plot was political, or if Cavan was simply attempting to rid me of Conn so he might marry me and have my wealth for himself. Telling Cavan I was now penniless was the means by which Lord Burghley hoped to smoke out my cousin.