by David Penny
“Why?”
“Because I could not wait for you forever.”
“No—why did you want me in the first place? I’m no great catch, and as Jorge always tells me, I am not a handsome man.”
Theresa cupped his face in her palm. “When has handsome ever meant anything, Thomas? Besides, he is wrong. You are handsome, and the cleverest, kindest, most loyal man I have ever known. That is what a good woman looks for.”
Thomas smiled. “What about a bad woman?”
Theresa returned the smile. “I can be bad if that is what you want.” The smile turned to a laugh. “What am I saying? My head spins from what we have done this day. Do not listen to me until I have slept.”
This time, Thomas kissed her mouth.
“Stop that!” said Belia as she approached.
Thomas looked beyond her to see Isabel had fallen into a doze.
“What else is in that tonic?” he asked.
“She will sleep until tomorrow and her body will heal itself.” She looked at Theresa. “Can you stay with her?”
“Of course.”
“Then I will stay as well. One of us to watch while the other sleeps. We wake each other when we feel ourselves doze. Thomas, go to the house and tell Jorge I will be back tomorrow.” Belia shook her head. “At least I hope I will be back tomorrow.”
“If anything happens, send for me. I should stay, but to do so will only anger Fernando the more.” He kissed Belia on the cheek, then did the same for Theresa.
“Catch the woman who did this,” said Belia as he turned away.
When Thomas reached the house, it was to discover only Will and Amal present.
“Where’s Jorge?”
“Gone with Usaden.” Will sat on the floor, playing a game of dice with Amal. She liked to count the faces to make her favourite numbers. Seven was one of them, nine another.
“Gone where? And why did they leave you both alone?”
“Jorge was going to stay, but I told him I was old enough to look after Ami.” Will glanced up. “I am, aren’t I?”
Thomas watched his children, a deep love for them welling through him.
“As long as you don’t teach her to fight.”
“Usaden does that better than me. I want to help. I can help you more if you let me.”
Thomas touched the top of Will’s head. “I know you can.” He folded himself down to sit beside them, touched Amal’s cheek and she smiled, her eyes still on the dice. “You still haven’t told me where they have gone.”
“Your friend Theresa told Jorge what happened to Isabel, and that the Turks had something to do with it. They have gone to find them. I would have gone as well if I wasn’t needed here to look after Ami and Jahan.”
“The Turks are hard men,” Thomas said.
“I beat one before, remember? Morfar says I’m as good as any man he has ever seen, apart from three.”
“And I expect one of them is him, isn’t it?”
Will smiled. “And another Usaden, but I don’t mind him being better than me. Is he going to stay with us when Isabel wins the war?”
“I haven’t asked, but I would like him to. Who is the third man?”
Will laughed. “Do you need to ask?”
“I do. It might be Fernando, but I don’t think so. Perhaps it’s one of the Turks. Which one? Koparsh?”
“Morfar says it’s you, Pa. You fight better than almost anyone. Apart from him and Usaden.”
“He’s wrong. Once, perhaps, I was that good, but I’m old now and my bones ache. I’m not as fast as I was.”
“He says you are still good enough.”
“Then that’s all right, isn’t it?” Thomas rose to his feet. The talk of the ache in his bones reminded him of how uncomfortable he was sitting on hard floors. He was pleased at what Olaf had said, even though he knew he was wrong. Good enough, yes. Thomas knew he would have to be good enough for what was coming. “If I go looking for Jorge, can you stay with Amal?”
“I can go find him for you if you like. They left the best horse behind in case you needed it.” Will glanced up at his father. “You look tired. Is Isabel going to be all right?”
“I think so. I hope so. Belia and Theresa are staying with her.” He looked towards the window, beyond which the day was fading in a glow of orange light. “And yes, I am tired. I might try to sleep, but send Jorge to me when he returns.”
“Can we sleep with you tonight, Pa?” asked Amal. She threw the dice and laughed when they showed a six and a three. Thomas knew about her favourite numbers. He also knew she liked certain combinations that made them up, and six and three was one of those—one number half the other.
When a hand shook his shoulder, Thomas came awake slowly. In the light of the candle burning beside the bed, he saw Jorge’s handsome face looking down at him.
“What time is it?”
“Late, but Will told me to wake you as soon as we got back.”
Thomas glanced to his side. Amal continued to sleep, flat on her back with her arms spread. Jahan was in his cot at the foot of the bed. Will had been beside Amal earlier, but was gone now, no doubt back to his own bed with a complaint his sister wriggled too much and kept him awake, though it was clear who did the wriggling. Thomas sat up, rose and dressed in the clothes he had taken off the evening before.
Usaden was waiting on the small terrace, looking out over the burning campfires of the army a quarter mile away. He didn’t turn when Thomas and Jorge approached.
“Tell me what you found,” Thomas said.
“First tell me about Isabel,” said Jorge. “Is she recovering?”
“She is. Now it’s your turn.”
Jorge shook his head. “The Turks broke camp the day after Olaf was injured, according to the men we spoke with, but Salma remained behind. With Fernando at first, but not for long. She set her sights on Yves and moved in here, though she has been visiting where Isabel lives often. People there appear to like her, including the head cook. It was she who suggested Salma cook for Isabel.”
“I was a fool not to send a message telling Isabel to beware of her. She is also the reason Olaf lost his hand, except that was not her plan. The Turks wanted him dead. So where is she now? And where are the others?”
“The woman and your son travelled north,” said Usaden, without turning. Had he not spoken, someone watching might have taken him for a statue. “I assume to join Koparsh and the rest of their band.”
“I decided we should return when we hadn’t found them by dark,” said Jorge. “Usaden wanted to go on, but I made him come back with me.”
“He is afraid of the dark,” said Usaden. “Kin and I could have followed their spoor on our own. Jorge is a grown man, I am sure he could have found his own way back.”
Thomas glanced at Jorge, who shrugged, knowing Usaden meant nothing by his comment.
“Do you remember that house where your lover died?” asked Usaden.
“She wasn’t my lover,” Thomas said. “Not anymore. And how could I ever forget it?”
“I believe they were headed in that direction. They may turn off, but they followed the same pass as before, so it makes sense their destination lies in that valley.”
“Or beyond it,” said Jorge, and Thomas knew they had discussed the matter before they arrived at the house. “Pass over the next ridge, as Yves did after Eleanor died, and you open up the whole of Spain.”
Thomas pulled two chairs across and sat after offering the other to Jorge. He knew there was no point asking if Usaden wanted one.
“Do you think they are running for home?” He shook his head. “No. Three weeks ago they left, is what you said.” He waited until Jorge nodded. “Isabel was poisoned yesterday. Salma prepared the tainted food. Is it the reason they left her here? Did you ask if anyone else had seen them recently?”
“I agree her purpose was to kill Isabel,” said Jorge. “And she seduced your son to use him as an accomplice. That cook said they were together in h
er kitchen.”
“It makes no sense she would allow her to do such a thing after Salma seduced Fernando.”
“Isabel knows full well what her husband is like. Knows she cannot change him. I suspect she bears his conquests no ill-will, for they have little choice but to submit to the majesty that is King Fernando of Aragon and Castile. The rumours I hear claim he has bedded over half her ladies-in-waiting. You can ask Isabel why she let Salma cook for her when you see her in the morning. Unless she is dead by then.”
“She is getting better. Belia and Theresa are looking after her. You are right—Isabel must know how Salma came to be there to prepare the food.” Thomas clenched his fists. “Salma is the one we need to find, and Yves if he is still with her. Koparsh left her here for one purpose only. To kill Isabel.”
“Do you think Fernando knew what she was going to do?”
Thomas turned to look at the sky. Was that the faintest glimmer of the coming dawn in the east?
“That thought occurred to me, but no, I don’t believe he did, and he already hates me enough. I can’t ask him such a question. I need to talk with Isabel’s kitchen staff and find out when Salma arrived, and when she left. Her trail will be fresh and we can use the bedding she slept in with Yves for Kin to track her. That perfume of hers is unmistakable.”
Usaden finally turned to face them. “I will go and do that. Your son’s bedroom stinks of her. Jorge can stay here, Kin and I can track a lone woman. Or the two of them if Yves is still with her and has not been disposed of now his use is over.”
“I want her brought back here. I have questions. Do you promise not to kill her?”
“If I can manage it, but I suspect the Turks will not be so far from where we are now. She will have gone back to them.” Usaden shook his head. “They may even kill her themselves now she has failed.”
“Except they don’t know she has failed. Nobody does.” Thomas rose, a fresh urgency filling him. “Yes, Usaden, go seek them out. I will talk with the kitchen staff and see what I can find out.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Thomas saw a slim figure standing in the doorway as he approached Isabel’s quarters. Jorge also saw her and ran ahead to embrace Belia. Thomas walked at a slower pace, allowing them a moment together.
“Are you waiting for me?” Thomas asked when Jorge released her.
“You cannot go in. Fernando and that sour priest are with her.”
“Has she worsened?”
“On the contrary. She is more herself than normal, but ask Theresa, who knows her better than me. Isabel and Fernando are arguing, so I thought it wise to wait out here for you.” She smiled. “I knew you would come before it was full light.”
“What are they arguing about?”
“The war, and you.”
“Me?”
“Do not look so surprised, Thomas. I know how the Queen feels about you. Jorge tried to explain it to me and I did not believe him, but I talked with Theresa in the night and she said the same thing. You and Isabel are more like man and wife than she is with that man.”
“That man?”
“I left when the shouting grew too loud. I did not want to remain in the room any longer, but Theresa stayed. To protect the Queen, I think. Isabel told me she would meet you in the usual place.”
“The usual place? Is that what she said?”
“It is. I assume you know where she means?”
“I might. Are you going back to the house with Jorge?”
“I should stay with her. I would like to give her another dose of tonic, and be there if you need assistance.”
“I don’t suppose you know if the kitchens are open yet, do you?”
“How would I know that?”
“How long do you think they will be arguing?”
“I do not know that either, but if asked to guess, I would say not too much longer. A storm that violent cannot last. Are you going to show me where we should wait?”
“You can come with me. I want to find out what the cooks know about the food they served us.”
Thomas led them deeper into the building. He had no idea where the kitchens were, but his nose led them in the right direction. The room was set at the back with a wide doorway thrown open to let the cool air of dawn in. A dozen women worked, all bustle and skill, each knowing their role. Maria de Henares, the cook Thomas had spoken with after Theresa fell ill, came across as they entered.
“Tell him we are working as fast as we can,” she said as Thomas approached.
“Tell who?”
“The King. He has asked me to prepare special food. Something plain. And fish. How am I supposed to get fish at this time of the day? I sent someone to the river, but have no idea if they will catch anything. Are you not with them?”
“Fernando asked this?”
“He is the King, is he not? What is it you want? I can probably find a girl to make you something to break your fast, but it will not be fancy.”
“I need to ask you about the meal prepared for the Queen yesterday.”
“If you can talk while I work. I have no time to stand and indulge in idle chatter.”
“You know what happened, don’t you?” Thomas watched as Jorge strolled away to talk with some others. Belia held back a moment, then joined him.
“I heard the Queen was taken ill, but it was nothing I made, I can promise you. Is she recovered?”
“I will know that when I am finished here. Go back to your work, we can talk as you do. Was it you prepared the spiced dishes?” Thomas accompanied her to a well-worn table where bowls, flour, vegetables and meat lay scattered on various plates. As they moved further into the room, the heat grew, making sweat break out on his skin.
“Not the spiced ones, no. I do not approve of spice, I believe I have told you that before. It is bad for the system. No doubt it is that which caused the Queen to fall ill, you mark my words.”
“I will try to remember them,” Thomas said. “So who prepared those?”
“The Frenchman.”
Thomas stared at the woman as she tipped a lump of dough from a bowl, scattered the surface with flour and began to knead it. That had not been the answer he expected.
“What Frenchman? I heard there was a woman here, a Turk, very beautiful.”
“There was, but it was the man who did most of the work. I had no idea the French knew spices, but he claimed to do so.”
There was only one person who could be the Frenchman. Yves and Salma had been setting up home together while everyone was in Gharnatah. Had they been doing more than sleeping together? Plotting, perhaps?
Thomas realised he had been a fool. He should have pressed Yves harder about his involvement in Eleanor’s work.
“Who appointed them?”
“I believe it was the Queen herself who asked them to cook for her. That was the story they told me, in any case.”
“Did you not check?”
“I heard the Turkish woman has become close to both King and Queen. Someone like me does not question the word of their masters.”
“But Isabel did not tell you directly.”
“Why would she do that? I told you, the woman spends time here and the man is also familiar. I tasted their dishes, of course. They were good, if you like food that burns your mouth so you can barely taste anything else.”
“Did they act like a couple?”
The cook continued to knead the dough, tendons standing out in her arms.
“They did. I caught them kissing once. I don’t hold with kissing in a kitchen. It is not hygienic.”
“No, I expect not. There was a rice dish mixed with meat, raisins, mushrooms and vegetables. Who prepared that?”
“I did.”
Thomas stared at the woman. “I thought you did not hold with spices, and that dish was heavily spiced.”
“They told me they had not enough time to prepare everything, so they gave me instructions and I followed them. But I could not tell if it was correct. T
he woman did that and approved my work.”
Thomas was even more confused. “Salma tasted the dish?”
“That was her name. Now you say it, I recall the man calling her by it. And yes, she did. She said it needed more spice and added that herself at the last moment.”
“I don’t suppose you heard her call him by name, did you?”
The woman looked into space for a moment before shaking her head.
“Not as I recall. Is it important?”
“It might be. Why did you allow two people you don’t know access to your kitchen after what happened when Baldomero came here?”
“I heard what he did, even though I still cannot believe it. I also heard he was dead, so there was no reason to suspect someone else would try to poison the Queen.”
“You told me before you know Bazzu. So do I, and when I spoke with her, she didn’t recall your name.”
“That is because it was different then, before I married. I assure you, she knows me. Do you suspect I am involved in some manner, sir?”
“That is what I am trying to find out. Did anyone else taste the dish?”
“Only the woman. Salma. It is a pleasant name, is it not? Heathen, though, no doubt.”
“No doubt. Did the man with her taste any food?”
“Some, but not that dish.”
A servant entered and said the King was ready to eat. The woman shooed Thomas away and turned back to her work. Thomas drifted through the kitchen, watching the industry going on, impressed at how everyone knew their role and carried it out without need for instruction. He met Jorge and Belia at the door and they went into the long corridor that ran the length of the building from front to back. Here the walls were unadorned. Closer to the front, tapestries hung as well as portraits of Isabel, Fernando and their children. And horses. Fernando liked pictures of horses, preferably with armed warriors mounted on their backs.
“The head cook prepared the poisoned dish, but did not try it,” Thomas said, his steps slowing. “She said Salma did, and added extra spice at the very end. I suspect that spice contained the poison she used.”