A Tear for the Dead Read online

  Fatima crossed the room and embraced Thomas, turning her face against his chest, and he felt her body shake. He held her for a time, and when she drew away, there were tears in her eyes which she wiped away.

  “I miss her. I miss Lubna every single day. She was my only child and I miss her.”

  “As do I,” Thomas said.

  “I know you do. Which is why it is a comfort to me that Helena comes to visit. She is not my daughter, but she is Olaf’s, and she is Lubna’s sister. She talks of her, you know.”

  “She does? That is more than she ever did when the three of us shared the same roof. She treated her as a servant then.”

  “People change. Helena has changed. If you spend a little time with her you will see the same. She has become … good.” Fatima shook her head as if the notion came as a surprise to her. “Help me carry the food through. Sit next to Helena and talk to her, see if I am not right. Do you want me to ask questions about Baldomero to see if I can discover anything?”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “I love you, Thomas Berrington, just as my entire family does. Now, go and do as I say.”

  Thomas picked up the clay pot and backed out into the main room. He sat beside Helena as ordered. Her familiar scent touched his senses, raising unwelcome memories. Across from them, Fatima spooned food into rough bowls and passed them around while Jorge leaned close and regaled her with tales that made her laugh.

  “Jorge tells me you are living in the palace again,” Thomas said to Helena. “Is that wise after what Abu Abdullah did to you?”

  “He has changed.” Helena raised a perfect shoulder, the skin as pale as marble. “As I have changed. I went to confront him because it had to be done if I wanted to regain my life. I asked what he intended to do with the harem when the Spanish take the palace.”

  Thomas suppressed a smile. “What did he say?”

  “That he had not considered the matter.”

  “Of course he hadn’t. What did you say to that?” Thomas noticed the scar that had once brought her into his house was no longer visible. There were few signs of ageing to be seen on Helena’s face or body, though almost ten years had passed since she had been gifted to him by the previous Sultan after she was attacked.

  “I told him he needed to think about it. He said he hoped Castile would allow him to leave with his wealth and harem both. He said he had arranged to move to Tunis.”

  “I’m not sure Tunis will offer much welcome to a deposed Sultan, particularly one with Abu Abdullah’s reputation for making mischief.”

  “I told you, he has changed. I also told him if he so much as lays a finger, or anything else, on me, he will have to answer to you.”

  Thomas laughed, almost losing some of the stew he had put into his mouth.

  “I expect that scared him.”

  “It did. He knows you serve Queen Isabel now. Knows you are a man with influence. He also knows how many men you have killed when they crossed you.”

  Thomas wasn’t so sure Helena was right in her judgement. He wondered if she shared Abu Abdullah’s bed. It wouldn’t surprise him, despite what he had done to her in the past.

  As if reading his mind, Helena said, “I have given up on men.” She offered a smile, one unfamiliar to him because it carried no hint of scorn.

  “And have they given up on you?”

  “You have, so no doubt others will, too.” She leaned across the table. “Have you given up on me, Jorge?”

  Jorge reached out and took her hand. “I never give up on a beautiful woman.” He kissed the back of her hand.

  “See, Jorge knows how to treat me.” In the past, the words would have been coloured by a sneer, but now they were spoken with affection.

  Thomas recalled how Helena had once shared her life with another woman when she was carrying Will. If he asked her now, would she tell him the truth, tell him whether he was Will’s true father? He wondered how long the apparent change in her might last. He looked across to Jorge.

  “We need to go back to Baldomero’s house. I examined the spices and herbs he had, but it would be better if Belia saw them. She has far more knowledge than I do.”

  “Baldomero the cook?” asked Helena. “What business do you have with him?”

  “No business, but he is missing. How do you know him?”

  “Everyone knows Baldomero. He cooked a meal for Abu Abdullah not long since when he entertained the Turks. Their leader was exceptionally handsome.” Helena glanced across the table to Fatima before returning her gaze to Thomas. “Can I come with you? I know his wife.”

  “Who is also missing. Why do you want to come?”

  “Because I want to be of help. You said you need to gather up his spices. I can do that. And you will need a cart or something to take them to your house so Belia can examine them. I know where I can get one of those. And I have a message for you from the Sultan.”

  “For me? Does he wish you to pass on an insult?”

  “He wishes me to pass on a message. He wants to talk with your Queen. He knows there are people in Gharnatah already talking with Castile in order to save themselves. You should call on him and find out exactly what he wants.”

  “Abu Abdullah told you this?”

  “Do you think I am making it up?”

  “He wants to see me?”

  “He does. I can take you to him. The guards will allow you to pass if I am with you.” She reached out and touched his wrist, let her fingers remain there.

  Thomas was confused. He gripped Helena’s chin, turned her head from one side to the other. Then he leaned across and looked behind her.

  She smiled. “What are you doing?”

  “I am looking for Helena. What have you done with her?”

  Chapter Ten

  Isabel, Queen of Castile, gave a frown. Thomas sat with her on the terrace while once again rain fell beyond its shelter, the sound of its falling a comfort. There was food on the table, so far untouched. Night had come to the Castilian camp. Its fires sparked away in a seemingly endless wave, rising and falling across the contours of the land until beyond lay only darkness. Thomas had taken the cart of supplies to Belia and checked on Theresa, pleased to see she was recovering. Then he had come to Isabel and told her of Abu Abdullah’s proposal, which had brought the frown.

  “Is he mad?” she asked.

  “There is an argument to be made for such.”

  “Does Boabdil expect me to trust him?”

  Thomas raised a shoulder. “I told him I would convey his message and I have done so.”

  Isabel stared at him. “Do you have no opinion on the matter?”

  Thomas could not read her tonight. Normally he believed he could, but this evening she was both distracted and strangely vulnerable. She had dressed in a Moorish robe, her hair covered beneath a silk scarf, pale red strands escaping to brush against her cheeks. Perhaps she was thinking of the next stage of her reign, once al-Andalus was defeated, concerned that the peace might be harder than the war.

  “I do, and if you ask I will offer it.”

  “Is that not what I just did?” Isabel poured wine into two glasses and handed one to Thomas. It was against all semblance of protocol, but they had long since moved beyond such.

  “How soon do you want this war to end, and how many lives do you want to save from being thrown away?”

  “You know my answer to that.”

  “The second part, yes, I believe I do. The first? I have never heard your opinion on the matter.”

  “I would have it end tomorrow if I could. Tonight. Now!” She drained her glass and filled it once more. “This is not a decision I can make alone. Fernando must agree, and I do not trust Boabdil. Whatever promises he makes now, I expect him to default on them.”

  “Abu Abdullah mentioned neutral ground when I went to see him. Somewhere close. He gave me the impression he would be satisfied if I were to suggest the location.”

&nb
sp; “You, Thomas? You have many admirable traits, but I was not aware Boabdil appreciated them as much as I do.”

  Thomas smiled. “He doesn’t. He knows I work for you, but I believe he thinks I might still owe some loyalty to him even after all he has done.”

  “And do you?”

  “There is only one person I am loyal to now.”

  “I cannot understand his motives. Tell me, is it worth pursuing his advances until we discover what it is he wants?”

  “I can deal with him, or Martin, though he mentioned he would rather it not be him. If the war can end sooner, is it not worth some small effort?”

  “And this other thing you are doing to find out who poisoned Theresa?”

  “I think the matter may be resolved. The man behind it has fled, and if he has any sense he will never return.”

  “Do you know of anywhere we could arrange a meeting?”

  “Not yet, but I am sure I can find something. There is land to the north and east of Gharnatah that, while notionally in Moorish hands, is not subservient to them. They are an independent people and there will be some place there.”

  “Then look, Thomas.”

  “Even before you decide?”

  “It is not a waste if I say no later, is it?”

  Only a waste of my time, but Thomas kept the thought to himself.

  “Suppose you agree and he says he will take fifty men, and you are also to take fifty. How many would you in fact take?”

  “At least half as many again, but I would not allow him to see them all.”

  “Take more,” Thomas said, “for that is what he will do. And allow him to see them so he knows your forces are equally matched. I believe he makes the offer in good faith, but I will ensure Olaf Torvaldsson leads Abu Abdullah’s forces. You have met the man and I know he likes you. Olaf will not allow any double-dealing.”

  “Then do it. Are you sure this other matter is closed? I know how persistent you can be.”

  “I identified the man who was brought here to cook. It seems he has already fled his house, his wife along with him, but I have other avenues I can explore.” Thomas stared at Isabel for a moment, seeing her attention turned inward, and decided to press her a little. “Abu Abdullah also told me he believes you are discussing terms with others in Gharnatah. Is he wrong?”

  “I have spoken with many people, as well you know.”

  “There is only one man who can hand the city to you. Whatever these others might have promised, only the Sultan has the power to surrender the city. The citizens circulate rumours of betrayal and might rise up against their masters.”

  “Which is only to my advantage, is it not?”

  “You would inherit a city fighting a civil war, so no, it is not to your advantage. These people you might or might not be talking to play a dangerous game.”

  “They seek to keep their own wealth and will sacrifice people to do so. I sent them away disappointed. Does Boabdil want the same?”

  “He seeks an assurance, but I believe he loves Gharnatah and its citizens and would not see either destroyed. You need to give his proposal consideration, Isabel.”

  She suppressed a smile. “Am I Isabel tonight, Thomas?”

  “To me you always are.”

  “Then I will do as you ask, even if it should be the other way around. Are you not meant to serve me?”

  “As I do, in whatever way you ask.”

  “Whatever?”

  Thomas made no reply. He drained his glass and filled it. As he did so, Isabel reached out and touched the back of his hand.

  “We should eat some of this food,” he said.

  “You can be my taster. If you fall writhing to the floor, I will know not to follow your example.”

  He reached for a sliver of pale meat. Some kind of bird, he thought, as he popped it into his mouth. He made a show of chewing, then choking. Isabel laughed and punched his side.

  “When does Fernando return?”

  Her face lost any trace of humour. “He sends me no message. It is as if he has fallen from the edge of the world. He will turn up one day and want to burn something, if anything remains.” She leaned over to select a small tart and her shoulder pressed against his for a moment. “You are right, I must give thought to Boabdil’s proposal. My duty is to save lives, but my duty is also to see Granada fall to Castile. I have come too far to stop this close to victory. If need be, my army will assault the walls. Men will die on both sides, but I will be victorious.” She popped the tart whole into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Thomas saw her thinking about making a pretence of choking before dismissing the idea. It had already been done.

  “If you give thought to his proposal, might I make a suggestion?”

  “You know I always value your advice.”

  “Don’t take too long. If you meet with him, do it before Fernando returns if you can. Abu Abdullah does not respond well to arrogance or pretend shows of strength and anger. He also likes women better than men. Meet him on your own. If a deal is to be struck, that will be the way for it to succeed.”

  “And what will my husband say when he returns and discovers I have not included him?”

  “If Gharnatah is handed to Castile without the spilling of blood, he won’t care how it is done.”

  “I sometimes think Fernando has no objection to the spilling of blood, as long as it is not his own.” Isabel glanced at Thomas, holding his gaze. “But he has other battles to fight once this one is over. There is Naples, and the French are always giving him problems along the northern borders of Aragon. So yes, I will give thought to the proposal you have brought me. I will decide by the morning—is that soon enough?”

  “I expect so.” Mention of France brought a memory to him. “Do you recall the Countess who befriended you two years ago in Qurtuba? I saw her today with Abu Abdullah.”

  “Is she his lover too, now?”

  Thomas knew Isabel did not want to say as well as who. Both of them knew Eleanor had shared Fernando’s bed.

  “Perhaps, but she acted oddly if she is.”

  Isabel laughed. “What, did she want to seduce you?”

  “It was a possibility, I feared. I need to ask Jorge, he will know for sure.”

  “I like his wife,” said Isabel. “I went to see Theresa this afternoon and she was there. She is competent, is she not? She reminds me of your wife. She had her son with her. He is so sweet, just like Jorge.”

  “They are not married, but they might as well be. And yes, she is more than competent. Belia knows herbs and plants far better than anyone else. It is how I first met her, when she lived in Sevilla. Theresa could not be in better hands.” Thomas thought it wise to omit mention of Jorge not being Jahan’s father, though he knew Isabel was clever enough to work out such a thing was impossible. Perhaps she had already done so and made a connection to the truth.

  Isabel sighed and looked at the food remaining on the table.

  “I should tell the kitchen to make less. Look at all this waste. It is wrong.”

  “It is not waste,” Thomas said. “They will distribute it among the kitchen staff, even some of your soldiers if they are lucky. Did you not know?”

  “I expect I have never thought of it, but now you tell me, it makes sense. Then they are welcome to it, for I need my bed. Even if it is lonely these days.” Isabel giggled. She covered her mouth quickly, as if trying to take back the sound, then turned and stared directly into Thomas’s eyes. “Do you have a woman now?”

  “You are my only woman.”

  Isabel pulled a face. “Do not say that, Thomas, not even in jest. Do you remember what I asked of you two years ago, on another terrace far from this one?”

  “I do.” Thomas knew there was no need to state it. One kiss, she had requested, that is all she had asked of him, all she would ever ask. Except he knew it might no longer be enough. For either of them. He held up a finger and touched her cheek. “Do not speak it, Isabel.”

  She stared at him for
a long time, then said, “I do not need to, do I? We both know what troubles me, and has ever since that day.”

  “Do not say the words, for they can never be.”

  Isabel rose and walked away on small feet. She stopped at the door and turned back.

  “The Turks come after noon tomorrow. I will need you at my side to translate their words. I have another man, but I trust you the more. Say nothing unless my man misspeaks, and then say it only to me. Do you understand?”

  “At what time do you want me?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Thomas suppressed a smile. “Yes, tomorrow.”

  “When they are ready. You can do something else for me until then.”

  “Ask it.”

  “The Ottomans arrived two days since. They have set up camp on the edge of ours. Go and sound them out for me. Do not tell them you come from me, but see what you can discover. Take Jorge with you, for he is good with people, and he is a eunuch. I have been told the Ottomans are keen on eunuchs.”

  Thomas laughed. “Perhaps he is better staying away in that case.”

  “I will send for you when the formal talks start. Spend time with your children. In fact, bring them to visit with mine. Little Catherine is much taken with your son. It is a shame we can do nothing about it. He is a handsome boy, is he not? Just like his father.” And then she was gone, leaving Thomas to think about the meaning behind everything she had said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Thomas and Jorge worked their way through a melee of men, fires, dogs, weapons, whores, cannon and cooks as they made their way to the Turks’ camp. The rain had continued overnight before stopping at dawn. It was a harbinger of the coming winter. Many of the soldiers had rigged stakes close to their fires to dry bedding and clothes. Smoke and laughter drifted through the air as if this was a celebration, not a war. Will walked ahead, the rangy Kin his constant companion. Thomas’s son and his adopted dog had become as one over the last few years. Thomas had asked Will which he preferred—to accompany Amal to play with Isabel’s children, or come with him and Jorge.

  “With you,” Will had said. His speech pattern grew more and more like that of his morfar Olaf Torvaldsson. Two words might even be considered a speech.