A Tear for the Dead

by David Penny

  “Get a blanket, then. I will close my eyes and breathe for her while you do it. Do you have a knife?”

  “A knife?”

  “It will be quicker to cut her clothing off than undo all these ties. Do you have one?”

  Theresa went to her bed and reached beneath the thin mattress. When she drew her hand out, it held a slim stiletto. It looked sharp.

  “Perfect,” Thomas said.

  He breathed into Isabel. Breathed again. He closed his eyes, aware of Theresa moving around him. The next time, when he placed his hand on Isabel’s chest to expel the air from her lungs, he felt only bare skin. He tried not to think of what he was doing to the Queen of Castile.

  “She is covered again now,” said Theresa, close to his ear. “Let me take over. Sit on the bed.”

  Thomas nodded. His fear had debilitated him. Perhaps that and the little poison he had also ingested. Isabel had eaten more. Much more. He watched Theresa work and tried to think of what poison could act so fast and paralyse the breath as it had done. He came up with nothing, which is why he had sent for Belia.

  “You sent those messages, didn’t you?” he asked Theresa, as he went to relieve her.

  “Both of them, yes.” She brushed hair back where it had fallen across her face. “How long do we keep doing this?”

  “Until she wakes, or dies.”

  Theresa stared at him. “How long can we keep doing it? Surely she must grow weaker not breathing for herself.”

  “Her heart beats strongly, so I believe we can keep her alive for a few hours yet. Once Belia gets here, I will know more. Go to the terrace and check that the servants have touched nothing, as I asked.”

  Theresa rose and left the room, closing the door behind her. For a moment, a wave of unreality washed over Thomas. He was in the room alone with a near-naked Isabel. Then he breathed into her again, losing his doubts in the work of keeping her alive. He was still doing so when Theresa returned, Belia behind her.

  “Look who I found when I went on your errand. The table is exactly as you left it.”

  Thomas sat up. “Good. Take over here for me.” He took Belia’s arm. “Come with me, I need your knowledge.”

  She said nothing, only gave a nod of acceptance. Thomas led the way back to the terrace.

  “We both ate the same dish. This one.” He pushed the small plate of spiced food with his finger. “Isabel ate more than me, which is why we must breathe for her. Can you tell me what it is, and whether there is an antidote?”

  Belia leaned over the dish and sniffed deeply. “I smell only spice, nothing else. Did it taste strange?”

  “It is so heavily spiced, it was impossible to tell.”

  “No doubt they used that to mask whatever the poison is. How did it make you feel?”

  “When my lips went numb, I realised something was wrong. I made myself sick and brought most of it back up, washed my mouth out well and drank more water to dilute anything left. I couldn’t make Isabel sick. She was unconscious by then and had stopped breathing.”

  Belia picked up the spoon Thomas had used and took a mouthful of the food. She held it in her mouth a long time, moving it around, then spat it out on the floor.

  “I taste spice, nothing else.” She shook her head, took another spoonful and this time swallowed. She walked to the edge of the terrace and stared out towards al-Hamra before glancing back at Thomas. “How long before you felt the effects?”

  “It was soon.”

  She nodded and turned away again.

  Thomas waited.

  A minute passed, then another. A sense of urgency thrummed through his body. He should be with Isabel, keeping her alive. Then Belia leaned over the edge of the terrace and did as he had, making herself empty her stomach. She came back to the table and washed her mouth out, spat, then swallowed a cup of clean water.

  “Some kind of mushroom. I cannot think of anything else that has the same effect. There are a few I know of, but which one is it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters.” She closed her hand around Thomas’s wrist. “We should go back to the Queen. There are three I can think of that grow in these lands that may be the cause, but one of them has no cure if someone has eaten too much. Do you know who did this?”

  Thomas thought about it as they made their way back. Inside the small room, Theresa continued to breathe for Isabel. Thomas touched her shoulder and knelt to take over, and Theresa sat on the bed. Her face was pale from the effort of breathing for two. As Thomas worked, he considered Belia’s question.

  When he rose, Theresa came back and took his place once more. He sat where she had, on the bed. Belia came and sat beside him. When she took his hand in hers, it gave some small comfort.

  “The Turkish woman,” he said. “Isabel wanted Moorish food, spiced food. She told me Salma had prepared some dishes and given instructions for others. Salma handed cups to Olaf and the man he killed in the arranged fight. No doubt she had tainted one of them. I realised it later, but we were all in Gharnatah. If I had returned sooner, Salma would not have poisoned Isabel. This is my fault.”

  “Do not blame yourself, Thomas. Jorge does not like her, and Jorge likes everyone—especially beautiful women. She may be one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, but Jorge is never wrong about people.” She looked to where Theresa knelt over the Queen. “You should go back to the house. Get Jorge and Usaden and your dog and go after her. You might discover what she used. If it is not what I fear, then I can make something up.”

  “Shouldn’t you do that, anyway? If it is one of the others, then will it do any harm?”

  “It may. Better that I know first. I can help Theresa, I have seen what you are doing.” She gave a soft shake of her head. “Isabel is fortunate you were here. Nobody else could do what you have done for her. Where did you learn such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, it was a long time ago. It may have been from an old man I met in the high northern mountains when I was young, or I may have read it in a book.”

  “You read more books than anyone I have ever known.”

  Thomas laughed, the comfort of Belia’s closeness bringing a sense of hope.

  “I read more than Jorge, that is true. Isabel told me Salma is no longer the lover of her husband, but is now with Yves. They have been living together in our house while we were in Gharnatah.”

  “Well, they are not living there now. There was a woman’s scent in Yves’ room, but all their clothes had gone. Find the woman and the Queen may wake the sooner.”

  “I know that, but I cannot leave her, can you not see that?”

  “I can.” Belia squeezed his hand. “In that case, I should go. I can make up some potions that may work.”

  “You said they could do harm if they are the wrong ones.”

  “That is true, but if what Isabel has ingested is the other, then there is no cure. How long can you breathe for her, Thomas?”

  Forever, if need be.

  “Go then, and hurry.”

  The door crashed open as Belia rose.

  Fernando stepped into the room. Perez de Pulgar stood behind him, together with a short priest Thomas recognised as Isabel’s confessor, Hernando de Talavera.

  Fernando took in the scene in front of him.

  “You are a dead man, Thomas Berrington. And Theresa, stop kissing my wife. What manner of deviancy is this?”

  “Isabel is poisoned,” Thomas said. “She cannot breathe for herself, so we are doing it for her until she recovers.”

  “She is naked!”

  “Because her chest needs to rise and fall the easier.”

  Fernando glanced at Belia and scowled.

  “Why have you brought that witch with you? What were the three of you going to do to my wife?”

  “This blasphemy must stop,” said de Talavera, his voice soft. “If Queen Isabel is meant to die, she must be allowed to depart in peace. I will take her confession as she is, but we should take her ou
t of this hellish place.”

  “Take her out and she dies.” Thomas put himself between the three interlopers and Isabel. “Belia, go do what we talked about.”

  As Belia pushed past Fernando, he grasped her wrist.

  “Do you want the Queen to die?” Thomas spoke to Fernando, but his eyes tracked the other two. De Pulgar, he saw, had his doubts. The priest would be too set in his mind to accept what they were doing. Thomas knew he had to take a risk. “Give me an hour, Your Grace. Go find the Turks, Koparsh and his concubine, for they are behind this act. Bring them here so we can question them.”

  “Are you giving me orders now? Do you think being my wife’s lover has elevated you so high?”

  “You talk nonsense and you know it. It is your lover who has done this. Bring the Turks here, you will be good at that, and I will be good at what I do. One hour. If she has not recovered by then, the priest can have her.”

  Fernando stared into Thomas’s eyes and he knew there would be a reckoning, but he also saw something that surprised him. Fernando cared about his wife. There had been a moment when Thomas wondered if he would let her die so he could rule Castile and Aragon alone. Now he saw he was wrong. Fernando wanted Isabel to live.

  “If she dies, so do you.” Fernando turned away. De Pulgar followed, but the priest remained.

  “I must pray for her.”

  Thomas looked around. “Take that chair then, but don’t get in our way.”

  Belia rubbed her wrist where Fernando had gripped her, then turned without a word and ran from the room.

  The allotted time had almost passed before Thomas felt Isabel’s chest hitch. Behind him, the priest’s soft words sang like music in his ears, hypnotic, somehow soothing if he didn’t listen to the words.

  Thomas laid his palm on Isabel’s chest, fearing the movement had been her heart struggling, but it continued to beat strongly. Then he felt the movement again. Isabel was trying to breathe for herself.

  “Theresa, help me roll her onto her side. I think she might be waking.”

  Theresa knelt behind Isabel and offered support for her. Thomas re-arranged the loose blanket so it covered her. He leaned close and put his ear against her mouth. Was that the faintest breath he could feel or not? If so, it was too faint to be sure.

  He rolled her onto her back again and breathed into her.

  “Blasphemy,” said the priest, without rising from his seat. “If God has seen fit for her body to stop, then we must allow her to ascend to Him without interference. Only Our Lord and His Son have the power over life and death.”

  Thomas turned, still on his knees, as Theresa took over breathing into Isabel.

  “Has a physician never healed you, priest? Has anyone ever removed a rotten tooth to ease your pain?”

  The priest met Thomas’s gaze without flinching.

  “Where do you draw the line?” Thomas asked. “I have saved men in battle who would have died, but they lived to fight again, to do God’s work in this war.”

  “You favour the wrong side. I know you, Thomas Berrington. You are a snake suckling against the Queen’s breast. You will burn in eternal hellfire for what you are doing.”

  “Good. I prefer the heat. Now start your prayers again. Who knows, they might even do some good.”

  “Thomas!”

  Theresa’s cry made him spin around, a fear running through him that Isabel had lost her battle. Instead, her eyes were open and she coughed.

  “What…?” It was all she could summon at first. She sucked in her cheeks. “My mouth is drier than the great desert.” She sat up, then clutched at the blanket when it slipped. She stared hard at Thomas. “And what have you done with my clothes?”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  When Belia returned with Jorge, she carried a small bag from within which Thomas heard the soft chink of glass bottles. Theresa had gone with Isabel to her own room. Thomas sat on the terrace, which was now cleared of food and the floor washed. He rose when his two closest friends entered.

  “Is she dead?” asked Belia.

  “She woke a quarter hour ago. She may not need your potions, though I would like you to talk to her to satisfy yourself.”

  “I brought tonics in any case. Is she still in the same room as before?”

  “Gone back to her own. Wait here, I will find someone to show you the way. I don’t know it myself, only where her office is, though I expect it can’t be far from there.” Thomas knew he was making little sense, aware of how tired he was. Only a few hours had passed while Isabel clung between life and death, but it felt as if it had been days. He went out to the corridor and sent a message with a guard that one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting was to be fetched. As the man turned away, Thomas called out, “Do you know if the King has returned?”

  “He rode out after noon, but I have not heard if he is back. I understood he might be away several days.”

  It was clear the man had heard nothing of what had happened and Thomas waved him away. When he returned to the terrace, he caught Jorge embracing Belia.

  “Let her loose, I have a job for you. Usaden as well. Is he at the house?”

  “Watching over the children,” said Jorge.

  “Usaden?” Thomas shook his head. He could think of better people to provide child care. No doubt the man would be teaching Amal how to kill an attacker. Thomas smiled. Perhaps he was the right man after all.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Jorge.

  “Nothing. I’m exhausted and my mind constantly slips into flights of fancy. I know who poisoned Isabel.”

  “Belia said something about the Turks.”

  “It was Salma, and if she is involved, then so is Koparsh. Even my son. But why? Were they sent here to kill Isabel? Eleanor said it was the French wanted her dead. Why would she lie when she was intending to kill me? Fernando has ridden out to find them, but hasn’t returned yet.”

  “If Salma has done as you claim, and I have no reason to doubt you, they will have fled. It also explains her seduction of Yves, but now we may never find either of them.”

  “The Turks were here three weeks ago when Olaf lost his hand. Theresa told me Salma had seduced my son and was living in our house with him. Salma handed out the cups before the fight, and I believe the one she gave Olaf had poison smeared inside it. Not that I can ever prove it now. She had been bedding Fernando, and at first I thought it might involve him, but I saw how devastated he was when he saw Isabel. Salma was still here this morning when she cooked for Isabel, so she can’t have gone far.”

  “You need to ask Usaden, he seems to know everything from his wanderings.”

  “I can’t leave here in case Isabel relapses. I will feel better once Belia has seen her.”

  The sound of rapid footsteps made Thomas turn to see Theresa come onto the terrace.

  “I didn’t ask for you, one of her maids would have done.”

  Theresa frowned, knowing nothing of his message. “Isabel sent me to fetch you. Both of you as you are also here, Belia.” She glanced at Jorge. “Perhaps not you, though she is dressed again now.”

  Jorge raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Possibly a first for him.

  “Go to the house and talk to Usaden,” Thomas said. “Ask him to go out and see what he can discover. I’ll return later if I can. If not, come back here and we can talk.”

  Jorge gave a nod and left. Thomas fell into step between Theresa and Belia as they made their way through the corridors of what the soldiers were calling a palace, though poor excuse it was for one.

  When they entered Isabel’s chamber, she was sitting up in bed, heavy drapes gathered above her. Thomas went and felt her neck, but she swatted his hand away.

  “Why do you always do that? It is becoming annoying. Tell me what you have found out.”

  Poison had not improved her temper, but Thomas understood her impatience.

  “Did Theresa tell you what happened?”

  “Did you really breathe for me?”

/>   “Theresa and Belia did most of the work.”

  Isabel ran a hand across her mouth. “My lips are sore and my chest aches. If you kiss all your women this way, no wonder you are still a single man.”

  Thomas smiled. “I will try to be more gentle next time.” It pleased him when Isabel suppressed a smile. It was another small sign of her recovery.

  Belia came forward and he stepped to one side, drew Theresa away so they could whisper together.

  “Has she been sick?”

  Theresa shook her head.

  “Complained of any pain, other than her mouth and chest?”

  “She tells me her belly aches, and her bones. Is that the poison?”

  “More than likely.” Thomas glanced to where Belia was talking softly with Isabel. She was also touching her, which now appeared to be allowed. He watched as Belia drew a corked bottle from her bag and set it on a table beside the bed. She searched through the bag and drew out two more before straightening.

  “I need something to dilute these with. Wine if there is any, clean water if you can find none. And a cup or glass. I have everything else.”

  Theresa left the room and Belia came across to Thomas.

  “I believe she will recover, but I am going to make a tonic which will help. I will also add something to counter any lingering effects of the poison. She was lucky she ate no more than she did, or I suspect it would be a corpse lying on that bed.”

  Theresa returned with a bottle of dark wine, the cork already pulled. Belia took it and returned to Isabel. Theresa stood close beside Thomas and her hand sought his.

  “You saved her, Thomas.” She squeezed his fingers. “If not for you, she would be dead.” Her words mirrored Belia’s.

  “We were lucky I knew how to help, that is all.” He watched Belia, recognising her skill, her gentleness. “You also played your part, and played it well. Thank you.” He leaned across to kiss her cheek.

  “Be careful, I am a taken woman now.”

  “Which I know well. I like Martin. I like him a lot.”

  “As do I. But you know I could have been yours. All you ever had to do was ask, but I came to realise you never would. I had to move on.”