A Tear for the Dead Page 19

  “Can you blame him? Isabel loves you more than she does him. No husband welcomes such a situation.”

  “Then he needs to stop bedding his lovers. No doubt you are aware he has taken a new one. He needs to be careful. Salma belongs to Koparsh.”

  “Everyone knows about Salma,” said Theresa. “It’s not as if Fernando even tries to hide his infidelities anymore. I suspect Koparsh is the one who put her up to the seduction, not that it would have been difficult. Fernando claims it is the duty of a king to spread his seed as widely as possible. It is a divine right.”

  “Then he’s doing his duty with great vigour. How long do these arguments go on for? I need to speak with her.”

  “Sometimes they end quickly, other times they go on until her advisors call her.”

  “Am I not an advisor?” Thomas asked.

  Theresa laughed, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. “If you say so. Nobody knows exactly what you are. Nobody dares even ask her. Do you not know yourself?”

  “I do as she asks and am content with that.”

  “She listens to you more than anyone else, so even if those who advise her think otherwise, yes, you are her advisor. Her closest advisor.” She smiled at his expression. “Now, I have a question for you and need an honest answer.”

  “That sounds serious.” Thomas believed he knew what it would be. He also believed he knew his answer. They had waited too long, both of them.

  Theresa stared into his eyes, her head tilted to one side, her expression unusually serious. She reached out and cupped his face in her palm and lifted on tiptoe, but was still too short. Thomas leaned down and kissed her mouth.

  “I cannot wait for you forever,” she said, “so I have made a decision. A hard decision. I have taken a lover.” She continued to stare at him, her eyes moving as she searched for some reaction.

  Thomas had closed his expression down. It was not the news he had expected, and the shock of it left him cast adrift.

  “Am I allowed to know who?”

  “Martin de Alarcón.”

  Thomas stared at her, his mind turning but gaining no traction.

  “Why?”

  “Because I like him, and he asked, and we have shared a bed before. He is a good and generous lover, but most of all, I cannot wait for you forever, Thomas.” She put a finger against his lips as he started to speak. “No. It is too late. My mind is made up.”

  “Isn’t Martin married?”

  “He was. His wife died a year ago, did you not hear?”

  He shook his head.

  “I expect someone told you, but you did not consider it important enough to recall. It had been a marriage of convenience rather than love, and there were no children.”

  “Do you love him? Does he love you?”

  Theresa raised a shoulder. “What is love, Thomas?”

  “You need to ask Jorge, not me.”

  “I like Martin, and believe I will grow to love him.”

  “Is he going to ask you to marry him?”

  “He cannot. Martin has a position to uphold, and marrying someone like me would never be sanctioned, but I do not expect him to. He will probably marry someone he does not love, but I will remain his mistress.” She took a step closer. “I am sorry, Thomas. Sorry we did not indulge ourselves in the past.” She stepped closer yet until her breasts touched his chest. “If you want to, perhaps we could indulge the once?” She looked around. “Here, in fact. I can lock the door like we should have done all those years ago.”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I cannot accept.”

  “No, I did not think you would. It was worth my trying, for I am sore curious how it would be between us. As I am sure are you. There must be something more to you than you show the world or Lubna would not have loved you as she did. Not to mention Isabel.”

  “You might have to ask Jorge again about all of that.”

  “Perhaps I will. Just so you know, I will stop teasing you from now on. It will no doubt make your life easier.” She cocked her head to one side. “Can you hear them shouting anymore?”

  Thomas listened. “No.”

  “Then go to Isabel.” She lifted her face up for one last kiss, then giggled. “I am sorry, I said I would not do that again. Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. Go and find your happiness.”

  “You are still too lax with your security,” Thomas said.

  “And it is a pleasure to see you, too, Thomas.” Isabel’s tone still carried a trace of the anger she had expressed to her husband. “Where have you been? I sent a message and that woman who lives with you told me she didn’t know.”

  “I don’t live with any woman.”

  “Belia? I am sure her name is Belia.”

  “She is Jorge’s woman.”

  “But she lives with you both, does she not?”

  “She does.” Thomas knew he had to calm Isabel down, but there were things he needed to say that might serve only to make the situation worse. “Perhaps we can sit in the sun for a while and gaze across your troops.”

  “My husband will be out there somewhere, and I would as soon not have any reminder of what he has done.” She glanced at Thomas, perhaps wondering how much he knew.

  He tried to keep his expression neutral.

  “As will my son and yours—they’ve gone off together.”

  “My girls talk about him all the time. I tell them it is not appropriate.”

  “Someone told me you talk about me all the time, is that also not appropriate? Besides, I have spoken to Will and told him to be less a friend to your daughters.”

  “You are my advisor, that is different. My children like Will, but he has grown so tall, so strong.” Isabel’s eyes flickered as they scanned Thomas. “So handsome. No wonder Catherine and the others moon after him. What is this Prince Arthur like?”

  Thomas’s head swirled with the sudden change of topic.

  “I have no idea. He is a year younger than Catherine, so I know nothing of him. What do your spies tell you?”

  “Spies? I have no spies.”

  “Then your friends in England. You have those, don’t you?”

  “I hear he is a studious boy with little liking for games of war and rumoured to be sickly. Perhaps I need to send you back to your homeland to cure him.”

  “Please, don’t.” Thomas was relieved when Isabel smiled.

  “I may want to send you when Catherine goes to seal the marriage. I will need someone I trust with her.”

  “When will that be?”

  Isabel waved a hand. “Likely not for several years, more if I can manage it. I do not want to send her away. She is more like me than any of my other children, and I know I should not say it, but I love her the most. Do you love one of your children more than the other, Thomas?”

  He hesitated. It was not a question he had given any thought to, but it was a good question all the same.

  “You do, don’t you?” Isabel smiled, as if she had achieved some minor victory.

  “Yes and no.”

  “What a very Thomas answer that is.”

  “I love them equally, but in different ways. Is that answer enough?”

  “No. I love my children in different ways, but not equally. Explain.”

  “As you know, Will is strong and righteous. He cannot see an injustice he doesn’t want to correct. Amal is clever and sweet and looks just like her mother. So I love them both, but differently.”

  Isabel reached out and touched his arm, a fleeting contact before she changed the subject to work.

  “What bad news have you come to give me?”

  “Good news, not bad. The man who poisoned Theresa—who tried to poison you—is dead. And the woman who put him up to it is also dead.”

  “Did you kill them both?” Isabel stared at Thomas, something bright in her eyes. “Your son is like you, for you also cannot see a wrong but want to right it. It is why I … trust you so much.”

  Thomas h
eard her hesitation and wondered what she had intended to say. He had no idea … or not one he wanted to consider.

  “The woman behind the poisoning is someone you know. Eleanor, Countess d’Arreau. And no, I did not kill her, nor the cook de Pamplona, nor his wife who was an innocent in all of this.” He thought it wise to omit any mention of those he had killed.

  “Fernando’s one-time lover, Eleanor?” She spat the words out. “He has poor choice in his paramours. Have you heard about his latest conquest?”

  Thomas nodded. He watched her, observing the play of hurt passing beneath the surface, waiting for her to let it pass and return to matters of more importance.

  “If you did not kill her, then who did?” asked Isabel.

  “I still have to find that out. Eleanor claimed she was put up to the deed by someone in France. She told me they wanted you dead, though the reasons she gave made no sense, so I need to look deeper.”

  “What reasons?” Isabel asked, as if she cared neither one way nor another if he answered.

  “Do you trust France?”

  “I trust no country other than my own. I trust few people outside this room. Is that who was behind it? It would not surprise me. Not surprise me at all.” Isabel waved a hand. “No matter, it is finished. So, what next?”

  “It may not be ended, which is why I need to investigate further. In the meantime, you should have more guards, as I have told you before, and you need someone to taste all your food before you eat anything.”

  “And I have told you I will not do that. A queen cannot spend her life in fear. I am surrounded by the armies of Castile and Aragon, and I trust my staff. Even you. Did Theresa tell you about her and Martin?”

  Once again, the sudden change of topic confused Thomas and he had to gather his thoughts.

  “She did.”

  “And…?”

  “And what?”

  “You know what I mean, Thomas, don’t pretend you do not. After your wife was killed, I was sure you and Theresa would form a pact. Why did you not?”

  “Well, for part of the time I lived in Gharnatah, and now I serve you.”

  “But you have no intentions towards me, do you?”

  Thomas tried to give a laugh. “You are the Queen of Castile and I am nobody.”

  “You are Thomas Berrington.” Isabel smiled. “Sir Thomas Berrington.” She laughed when he scowled. “If you believe France behind the attempt on my life, why do you need to investigate further? Have you spoken with Boabdil about our meeting?”

  “Which would you like me to answer first? It may take some time to answer both to your satisfaction.”

  “Then I will send for food. It is almost noon, and I was awake before dawn.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I am trying to decide if that is an impertinent question or not, but if it is, I forgive you because you know no better. And you have still not told me how you feel about Martin and Theresa.”

  “I am happy for them both,” Thomas said.

  “Indeed you are. Now, what would you like to eat? You can even taste everything for me if you wish, though it would distress me if you were to die doing so. I still have work for you to do. I want you to go to Boabdil later today and see if you can press him for a date for our talks. I also want you to find out what the Turks want by coming back here, other than to anger me.”

  “I will press Abu Abdullah as hard as I can. As for the Turks, Koparsh told me the last time we spoke that he is a seeker after experience. I suspect watching the end of Gharnatah is the experience he seeks this time. Should I start now?” Thomas rose, but Isabel waved him back into his seat.

  “After we have eaten, and after you have told me what you really think about Theresa and Martin.”

  “Do you not have any difficult questions for me?”

  Isabel laughed. “Tell me true what lies in your heart, Thomas, and perhaps I will tell you what lies in mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thomas found Will before he found the Turks. The gathered armies of the continent stretched over a league in all directions, and he was thinking he would fail in his attempt when he caught sight of his son. His long blond hair and height made him stand out from the mass of soldiers. Will was talking with a swarthy man whose face was marked by gunpowder. When he turned away and saw Thomas, he came loping across the ground with an effortless grace.

  “What happened to Juan?”

  “He thinks he enjoys talking to the men, but he soon grows bored. Did you see Isabel?”

  “I think you should call her the Queen out here.”

  “Of course. But did you? Are you going home? Can I stay here if you are? I enjoy talking with the soldiers.”

  “How many speak Arabic?”

  “None, but my Castilian is good enough, and I also have a little French. That man I was with is a French bombardier. He told me Fernando—sorry, the King—wants them to move their cannon closer to Gharnatah.”

  “Did he?” Thomas looked across the ranks, but the man had disappeared. He would have liked to question him. “How would you feel if I started teaching you a little English?”

  “That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”

  “It is. And the Queen asked me something today that makes me think it would be good if both you and Amal spoke the language.”

  Will looked at him, and Thomas knew he did not need to explain why. His son might be big and strong, but he was also smart.

  “If you want to, though there are men from England here. I am sure I can learn a little from them if you’re busy.”

  “I won’t be busy forever, and you don’t need to speak it for a while yet. Perhaps ten years. But it’s easier to learn when you’re young, easier still for Amal.” Thomas recalled the short time it took him to learn enough French to make himself understood, then the language of the south, and then Castilian. Arabic had been harder, but by then he was surrounded by it in the infirmary in Malaka.

  “I have been teaching Ami Castilian,” said Will. “I told her we’re all going to need it before long.”

  “Good. Now, I need to find the Turks. Have you seen them? Last time they were here, they had an ornate tent and set themselves up beyond the edge of the camp.”

  “Haven’t seen them,” Will said, “but I’m sure someone has.”

  Thomas watched him run off and walked slowly after him. When he caught up, he discovered Will had lied about his Castilian. It was almost perfect. Better than his own.

  “They’re on the western fringe,” Will said. “Do you want to go now?”

  Thomas glanced at the sky. The day was barely half way through.

  “When you go back to the house, tell them I’ll be home in time for supper.”

  “I’d rather come with you.”

  Thomas considered the request, but only for a moment. He could see no danger, and even if private matters were discussed, he knew Will would never reveal them. He gave a nod and Will grinned.

  It felt good to walk through the massed troops with his son at his side, even if Thomas had to take longer strides to keep up with him.

  “What is England like? Will I like it?”

  “I didn’t much, but I suspect that’s because of what happened to me there. That and my leaving.”

  “What happened?” asked Will.

  “It’s a long story best kept for an evening, if not two.”

  “Tonight?”

  Thomas laughed. “How about I tell you my story in English?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I’ll wait until you know enough to understand. I need to practise the tongue in any case, it’s been too long since I spoke it, longer still since I spoke it well.”

  “Me and Ami will learn fast, then.”

  Thomas had no doubt of it.

  It took them half an hour before a cluster of tents came into view, erected beyond a low rise in the ground which hid the gathered horde. The tents sat on a stretch of bare soil that, with no crops, had b
een spared the burning. Had he not known what lay on the far side of the rise, Thomas might think the spot idyllic. South, rounded hills rose. North, more jagged peaks reached to scratch at the sky. East, the great Sholayr mountain loomed, its peaks white with snow in a promise of the coming winter. West lay Castile and all the lands it had captured from the Moors over long centuries.

  Thomas saw a figure emerge from the largest tent to stand waiting for them. He recognised Koparsh Hadryendo and raised a hand in greeting, which was returned.

  “Do you know that man?” asked Will.

  “He is the Ottoman emissary.”

  “What is an emissary?”

  “Someone who comes to speak on behalf of his master.”

  Will thought for a moment. “Like you do for Isabel?”

  “I don’t speak for her, I work for her, nothing more.”

  Will gave no reply, and Thomas wondered whether he believed him.

  “Welcome, Thomas Berrington. I see you have brought a man to protect you, but there is no need. I offer only the hand of friendship.”

  “You chose this spot well, and this is my son. His name is Will.”

  Koparsh’s eyes were sharp on Will, judging him. “Is he the grandson of the Sultan’s big general?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “When we were in the palace. I saw the man frequently, and I see the resemblance. What age is he?”

  “He has ten years.”

  Koparsh laughed. “Now I know you lie, but I will not punish you for it. How old are you, boy?”

  “Father speaks the truth, sir. He never lies.”

  “So I have heard. In that case, you are tall for your age. Are you as strong as your grandfather?”

  “Not yet, but I will be when I am older. Usaden tells me so.”

  “Who is Usaden?”

  Will glanced at Thomas, unsure whether to reveal any more, but he received a nod to tell him he could speak openly. There could be no harm in it.

  It was some time before Thomas raised the matter he had come to discuss. By then, Salma had brought strong, dark coffee. Will stared at her with his mouth open for a long time, then went outside to talk with Koparsh’s men. Only Thomas and Koparsh remained in the tent, the air hot beneath the relentless sun against its roof.