A Tear for the Dead Read online

  She gave a nod. “You said you wanted to see Da’ud, too, didn’t you? Then you need to know he is unwell. No, more than unwell, he is dying.”

  “Da’ud?” Thomas experienced a sharp wave of grief. He had always believed Da’ud would live forever.

  “He is an old man, you know he is, and his life has been hard. But yes, you need to see him while you can. He will also have medicines you might need.”

  “Which is why I intend to go to him, but now more so than ever. Is there any doubt? Who has attended him?”

  “I have, and one or two others. Not you, obviously, but what ails Da’ud is beyond even your skills, Thomas. I am sorry, I know he means a lot to you.”

  “When I first came to Gharnatah, he was the only physician who welcomed me. Even now there are few who do. You will come with me? To Da’ud as well as Theresa?”

  Belia looked towards Jorge, who had watched the conversation with his usual good humour.

  “Belia is her own woman,” he said. “She can do whatever she wants, as well you know. But you should not disappear so soon after you arrived.”

  “Do you think I want to? Theresa needs me. I believe she needs Belia. Let us do this and I will return tomorrow. I need to find this man and your friend on the hill can help with that.”

  “I have many friends on the hill,” said Jorge.

  Belia laughed. “You can admit to it, I know you love Bazzu. Just so long as you don’t love her more than me.”

  Jorge stroked Belia’s arm. “How could I ever love anyone more than you?” He turned to Will and Amal, who had watched the entire conversation. “You two come with me. I need your help in buying enough food for a feast tomorrow.”

  “What day is tomorrow?” asked Amal. “Is it an important day?”

  “It is the day your father comes to eat with us.” He glanced at Thomas. “And he will stay the night. Perhaps several nights. That is correct, is it not?”

  Thomas knew he could make no promises, but he could manage a day, perhaps even a night. Provided Theresa recovered. He wished he could return to this house and never leave again, but he had also made a promise to Isabel. She needed him. Perhaps, when the war that had once seemed endless did end, she might not need him anymore. Then he could sink back into a welcome obscurity.

  Chapter Five

  Thomas offered a puzzled glance at Belia. Da’ud al-Baitar looked healthy enough. Unless he looked closer, then he saw the man was thinner, his dark skin paler than it had been. His eyes remained as sharp as ever, but he was slower to rise than he might once have been as he struggled to lift himself from the cushion he was sitting on. Thomas offered a hand, pleased when Da’ud was not too proud to accept it.

  “I hear you are the lover of the Spanish Queen now, Thomas. What are you doing here?”

  “Visiting an old friend.” He did not correct Da’ud, aware half the people who knew of his new role believed the same. The other half considered him a traitor. Neither were correct, but beliefs became too ingrained to change and Thomas could no longer bother making the effort.

  Belia kissed Da’ud on both cheeks.

  “This one has been keeping me updated on your exploits,” he said.

  “I am afraid I need your help,” Thomas said.

  “Whatever I can do, but I am not much use these days. Did Belia tell you what ails me?”

  “Only that you are unwell.”

  Da’ud gave a laugh that degenerated into a fit of coughing that had him leaning over, hands on knees. Thomas waited for it to pass.

  “I have a growth on my liver,” said Da’ud when he recovered, though a sheen of sweat stood out on his brow. He touched his side through the robe to show the location.

  “I will examine you if you allow me. You will not be wrong in your diagnosis, I am sure, but I would like to satisfy myself.”

  Da’ud stared at Thomas for a long time before nodding. “You will come to the same conclusion, but at least you will come to it for yourself. I know you, Thomas, you trust nobody, not even me.”

  “Did you not fix me when I was injured all those years ago?”

  “I did. But only because you could not fix yourself.” Da’ud rose and loosened the tie on his robe before hesitating. He glanced to where Belia stood behind Thomas. “Perhaps Belia should go to my workshop and gather whatever you need. That is what you came for, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  “I like that you never sweeten your words with syrup, just as you never sweeten your remedies. It makes people dislike you, but at least they get the truth, and often as not a cure. Besides, Belia has already seen everything this old man has to offer, and she was unimpressed.”

  “Do not be so sure.”

  Da’ud gave another laugh, gentler on his body this time. “You do live with a eunuch, so I expect you have little to compare me with.” Da’ud laughed again when he saw the look Belia cast in Thomas’s direction. “Oh, I know who the father of Jahan is, though I believe few others do.”

  “That was duty, nothing more,” Thomas said.

  “A duty any man would envy. Now leave us, my sweet, so I can talk to Thomas in private. Take whatever he needs, for it is of little use to me anymore.” When Belia had gone, Da’ud continued to disrobe. “Send Jorge and that sturdy son of yours with Belia next time to pack up everything here. Not yet, perhaps, but you will know the time. Now, do your worst, I am too old to care.”

  Thomas examined Da’ud for a moment without touching him. The man’s dark skin showed a yellowing, which was more prominent in his eyes. The growth within his body caused a swelling on the right side of his belly, and finally, Thomas traced it with his fingers.

  “Does it hurt when I press here?”

  “It does. I try to avoid doing such, but these days it requires not even a touch. I use poppy, but it can only do so much.”

  Thomas stood behind Da’ud and ran his fingers along his spine. Next he felt his shoulders, then beneath his arms.

  “It has not spread yet, which is good.”

  “It has not,” said Da’ud, “but that makes no difference, does it?”

  “I cannot cut it out, so you are right. How long have you known?”

  “Half a year.”

  “That long?”

  “It will not be much longer. Have you finished molesting me?”

  “Not quite.” Thomas examined Da’ud’s genitals, feeling once more for lumps or growths, relieved not to find any. Though, as Da’ud had said, it made little difference.

  When he had finished his examination, Thomas went to the stone sink in one corner and washed his hands.

  “You can dress again now.”

  “I might not if you send Belia to examine me as you have done.”

  “I would like you to live a little longer if possible.”

  “Ah, but what a way to die.” Da’ud met Thomas’s eyes. “She was fine, was she not?”

  “I told you, it was duty, nothing more.”

  “My memory must be slipping. You will come when I send for you?”

  “Yes, I will come.”

  Da’ud smiled, his relief showing. “It will not be long, though I am not afraid to die. I have started visiting the mosque again. It is strange how the prospect of your own mortality makes you think of the next world more than this one. You do not believe, do you?”

  “You know what I believe, my friend. I believe in good men and women. I believe in friendship and family. And I believe in knowledge.”

  “Yes. Knowledge is good, but family is better. I have sacrificed my own needs in service to others. Do not do the same, Thomas. What is it like, working for the Queen of Castile?”

  “Different.”

  “I expect it must be.”

  “How long does he have?” asked Belia as they climbed the switchback path through the Albayzin.

  “You tell me.”

  “You forget I am not Lubna. I know herbs and medicinal plants, but I do not know the human body like you do and she did. I w
ould guess not long. A few months.”

  “More like a few weeks.” Thomas carried a heavy wooden box which Belia had filled with medicines and liquors. She carried another almost as big. Da’ud was right—he had no need of them anymore.

  “Then you have to be close.”

  “If I can. You know it’s not so simple. But I will make up the right mixture for you to give him if I can’t be here.”

  “No.”

  “You won’t help him?”

  “If it was help he needed, yes, but it has to be you, Thomas. Da’ud is closer than a father to you. It must be you with him at the end. You know it must.”

  “I will try.”

  “You will do it,” said Belia, her tone brooking no argument. “Now, do you want me to come to the Castilian camp with you?”

  “Would you? I can fix bodies, but you are better for what ails Theresa. I left a woman looking after her, but she knows nothing.”

  “If I come, the others must as well. You are not to abandon Will and Amal again so soon.”

  “I only have a small tent.”

  “Then we will keep each other warm, and I will tell Jorge not to accost me in front of you.”

  “Why change the habit of a lifetime?”

  “Do not change the subject. We all come or none of us come. Agreed?”

  Thomas let his breath go. He was surrounded by women, each of whom held a great many opinions, almost all of them concerning his lack of duty.

  “Yes, we all go. I will see if I can arrange additional accommodation. There must be more in the farmhouse Isabel is using, it is big enough.”

  “I expect you could always share her chamber. I am sure she would not object.”

  Thomas turned to look at Belia, relieved to see her smile, for her voice had sounded serious.

  The day was fading fast before everything was arranged. Jorge wanted to take more clothes than a camel could carry, but Belia persuaded him they were not abandoning the house, only taking a leave of absence. By the time they reached the Castilian camp, full dark had arrived. Thomas showed them his tent before saying he had to visit Isabel.

  “Will you be all right with Theresa?” he asked Belia, and all she did was wave him away with her fingers.

  The dark-haired woman he still did not know the name of accompanied him to the farmhouse.

  “I must thank you for your dedication,” Thomas said.

  “I did it for Theresa. We have been friends for many years.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Theresa tells me you are a man who misses much even as you see a great deal. Will she live?”

  “Now Belia is here, yes. She knows more than anyone about cures for what ails Theresa.” Thomas glanced at the woman. Her face was pale with exhaustion and he wondered if she had slept at all. “How long have you served the Queen?”

  “Queen now, is it, not Isabel?” Her lips tightened as she suppressed a smile. “All my adult life I have served her. My father was in her brother’s employ. I was a child in King Juan’s court and always knew I would serve Isabel.”

  Light spilled from the terrace onto her face as they approached. She yawned and stretched.

  “I will leave you now, Thomas. I think I may sleep for a week.”

  Thomas watched her walk away on delicate steps and wondered if he would recognise her again if they passed in a corridor tomorrow or the day after. He hoped he would. He realised he had not even asked her name.

  He was taken to a room where Isabel sat in front of an unlit fire, despite the chill of the evening. An unused glass sat on a table at her side, a jug of wine waiting to be poured. When Thomas was announced, she rose, but he held a hand out and she settled back into the chair.

  “My advisors stuff my head with too much information,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  “I did as you gave me permission to do and went into Gharnatah. I have brought Belia back with me. If anyone can help Theresa, it is her.”

  “Did you see your children while you were there?” She nodded at a chair set against the wall, and Thomas drew it across and sat.

  “I brought them back with me. I didn’t have the heart to abandon them again after not seeing them for so long.”

  “I told you to fetch them before. Why did you not?”

  “A battlefield is no place for children.”

  “Mine are here.”

  “This is not a battlefield yet.”

  “So you can bring yours.”

  Thomas knew he was beaten. “Which is what I have done, though my tent is creaking at the seams. Fortunately, Usaden said he would find somewhere nearby.”

  “He is your mercenary, is he not?”

  “He is.”

  “Pour me some wine, Thomas. And you will find another glass for yourself somewhere over there.” She waved a hand in no particular direction.

  “Have you done as I advised?” he asked once he had poured the wine and taken a mouthful, the taste rich on his tongue.

  “You advise me on so much, Thomas. Which thing is it this time?”

  “The food. I told you to find someone to taste your food.”

  “I cannot do that. I will not endanger another life, but I have given instructions that every item prepared for me is to be watched over by the head cook.”

  “And if she is the poisoner?”

  “She has been in my employ for over a year, so if she intended to kill me, she has left it exceedingly late. I must trust someone, Thomas. Other than you, of course.” She reached out a hand as if to take his, but they sat too far apart.

  “Do you know where she came from before working for you?”

  Isabel’s face showed impatience. “I do not interview cooks myself, so no, I do not know, but she would have come recommended.”

  “Who interviewed her?”

  “You are making too much of this, Thomas. You already know who poisoned my food. Seek the man out and punish him. I have too much to concern me at the moment to involve myself in things you are better equipped to deal with.”

  “Has Martin reported back to you yet?”

  “He has not returned. No doubt Boabdil is attempting to turn him against me.”

  “He will have little luck in that endeavour.”

  “Martin is like you. Loyal.” She reached for her glass, sipped at the wine.

  “You need to go to bed, Isabel. You need sleep more than my company.” Thomas rose and held his hand out to her.

  “Are you offering to accompany me?” She took his hand and he drew her to her feet. She stood with the top of her head barely to his chin, her face turned up.

  “When does Fernando return?”

  She pulled a face. “When he has finished burning everything. And then he will start again here.”

  “Perhaps Martin will succeed and all this can end.”

  “Yes. Perhaps.” Isabel lifted up and offered her cheek. He smelled the scent of her, heard the creak of whalebone sewn into her clothing. “Goodnight, Thomas. Take good care of Theresa.”

  “I have to return to Gharnatah in the morning.”

  “But you have brought everyone here.”

  “It is the matter of Baldomero, the cook who made the poisoned tarts. I must find him.”

  “Will you kill him, like you have killed your enemies before?” Something sparked in her eyes.

  “I will expose him. If you wish it, I will bring him back to stand before you so you can offer judgement on him. I have grown tired of killing.”

  Isabel stole another peck on his cheek. “I wish you could persuade my husband of the same.”

  Chapter Six

  Thomas woke before dawn to a grey light spilling through the entrance of the tent. He eased his legs from beneath Will, lifted Amal from where she slept with her head on his chest, and rose while trying to avoid treading on the tangle of limbs. Theresa turned her head at his movement and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  Thomas went to the low bed she
lay on and touched her neck. He held a finger to her lips to stop her saying anything until he was done, then leaned close.

  “How do you feel?”

  “As if I have been run over by a horse, but I have been worse.”

  “You have?”

  “Once, perhaps. I am mending, Thomas, all thanks to you.” She reached out to squeeze his hand.

  “Not me. It was Belia was who has attended to you since yesterday, and your friend before that.”

  “I did not know about anyone else, but Belia told me what you did. You saved my life.”

  “You talked with her?” Thomas glanced to where Belia lay curled against Jorge. “She said nothing to me about you being awake.”

  “Because I told her not to. I knew you would only have questions, so I told her to keep our secret. Jorge knew, but he promised as well.”

  “He did, did he?”

  Theresa shifted on the bed, trying to sit up. “If you can help me, I would return to my room. I need to sleep longer, but I am better, I promise.”

  Thomas gave a quick glance around and knew Theresa was right, she would rest better in her own bed.

  “You are sure you are well enough?” He feared the poison might still affect her.

  “You are the physician, you tell me.” She offered a smile. “I am naked beneath this blanket so it will take you no time at all to check my body for any signs. In fact, I might welcome the reassurance.”

  “I am sure you would. Yes, I see you are better.” Thomas slid his arms beneath Theresa and lifted her, hoping the blanket would protect her modesty, but the warmth of her skin beneath his hands was an unwelcome distraction. He carried her from the tent and across to the farmhouse. “Where is your room?”

  “Along the corridor and to the right, provided Isabel has not gifted it to someone else in my absence.”

  “She was concerned for you.”

  “Of course she was.”

  Thomas found Theresa’s room and laid her on the bed, then turned his back as she slid beneath her own blankets. When he returned to the tent, Belia was awake and Jorge had taken the cot Theresa had vacated. Thomas kicked him with his toe.