by David Penny
“I heard a man accompanied her. You know who he was, don’t you?”
“Yves.”
“Two of the cooks heard them speaking and she used his name. His mother was involved in the first attempt on Isabel’s life, and now he’s involved in this one.”
“Yes, he is.” Thomas felt a sense of despair. He had discovered a grown son only to find out he is a killer, just like his mother was. “If Yves is guilty then he must be punished, but I have grown to like him. I need more proof before I am convinced of his guilt. I am confused.”
“Is that meant to be news?”
“Theresa was poisoned when Baldomero came from Gharnatah. The head cook allowed two more strangers to cook for Isabel. Why would she do such a thing after Theresa nearly died?”
“Everyone we spoke with told us it was Isabel who sent them.”
“But did they hear her speak those words themselves, or was it only what Yves and Salma told them?”
“Several of the girls told me Salma has become a familiar figure among Isabel’s court. They all know about her and Fernando, but I believe half of them have tumbled with him in the past. He has both a reputation and a position. It is difficult for anyone he sets his sights on to say no. Even the head cook, I heard. I believe it was she who told the others that Isabel had sent Salma and Yves to cook for her.”
They had walked half the length of the corridor when Theresa appeared from a side room.
“There you are. She wants you.”
“On the terrace? Is Fernando there?”
“He is, but she is in a smaller room. She wants to speak with you in private. I am sorry, Jorge, but she insisted on Thomas only.”
Jorge turned to Thomas. “We will return to the house. Is there anything either of us can do before you arrive?”
“Not yet, let me think on matters first. See if you can find out if Salma was seen around this place, and who with.”
After he was gone Theresa said, “I can tell you about Salma. She befriended several of Isabel’s ladies-in-waiting. She even befriended me. I liked her. And your son visited with her frequently. I think some ladies took a liking to him. He is a Count, a man with a position, so of course they liked him.”
“Did they ever visit Isabel?” Thomas wondered how he could have been so stupid as to accept Yves’ story.
“Not that I heard, and I hear everything to do with her.”
They walked side by side along the corridor. Raised voices came from outside, but Thomas ignored them. No doubt men arguing, as they always did. The lack of any plan to attack Gharnatah did not sit well with the gathered troops. They wanted action, whether or not it was the right kind.
Isabel wanted him. That was his only concern.
“I was not aware you even knew who Yves is.”
“He came to the palace in Córdoba last year with his mother, didn’t he? Isabel should never have allowed them access then, it has only caused trouble ever since. And now this. If he is responsible for what happened, I will kill him with my own hands.” She gave a small laugh at her show of anger. “Perhaps better I get Martin to kill him for me.”
“You would have him kill my son?” Thomas felt pulled in a dozen directions, at the mercy of tides of loyalty and family.
“Forget I said anything. She is in here.” Theresa stopped outside a closed door. “She said for you to go straight in. The servants will bring food for you both. After it has been tasted.”
“At last,” Thomas said. “She should have done as I asked at the start and none of this would ever have happened.”
“I agree, so do not berate me, tell her.” Theresa turned and walked away. Thomas might have watched her go at one time, but now he opened the door and entered the room.
It was smaller than he had expected. Isabel sat at a table that took up a full third of the space. There were two chairs set on opposite sides and Thomas took his.
“I hear you are having your food tasted.”
“Before you say anything, yes, you were right.”
“Who is doing it?”
“Captured prisoners. They are kept in a stockade nearby—but not so near we can smell them. They are made to eat everything before I do. I believe the system will work, though it has not been tried before.”
“Moorish prisoners?”
“Of course Moorish prisoners.” Isabel met his eyes, a sharpness in hers. “At least they are used to spiced food.”
Thomas knew trying to argue with her was pointless. She was only doing what he had asked. And who did he expect would be chosen? The role was meant for those who were dispensable.
“I assume it was not you who sent Salma to the kitchens to cook spiced food for you?”
Isabel frowned. “I did not, though I have seen her around for some time now. In the company of your son, which told me she must have changed. Better him than my husband.” She shook her head. “I cannot banish all the women he has ever slept with, or I would have no staff left to serve me. Even Theresa.”
Thomas stared at her. “I never heard that before.”
“It should not surprise you. It was a long time ago, shortly after you cured Juan. Theresa is pretty, though sometimes he does not even need them to be that. It was only the once, she told me, and left her unsatisfied.” Isabel looked as if she was about to add something, but stopped herself.
Thomas gazed into space, connections forming in his mind only to be discarded. Salma and Yves. Was it as simple as that? How far back was their relationship formed—only in recent weeks, or much earlier? Eleanor had lied about her commission coming from the French King. Did that mean it came from Koparsh? Had Yves and Salma known each other all this time?
He opened his mouth to ask once more about the head cook, but before he could do so, the door opened and two women brought in food. They laid it on the table and started to back out.
“Has it been tasted?” asked Isabel.
One woman bowed. “It has, Your Grace. All of it. An hour since, so we heated it up again for you.”
When they had gone, Isabel said, “Reheated food. Is this what my life has come to?”
“At least you have a life.”
“Thanks to you.” She suppressed a smile as she picked out a few morsels. “And next time you put your lips on mine as I lie naked before you, I hope you make sure I am awake first.”
Thomas stared at her, unsure if she had made a joke or not until she gave a tiny laugh.
“Eat, and tell me how you intend to find whoever tried to steal my life.” She sighed. “If I lay dead now, I know not what would happen to this war. Fernando is too harsh. He would punish the city even though its gates stand open. He does not understand there is a different way, but you do. Find them, Thomas, but you also need to arrange this meeting with Boabdil. I am filled with a new energy and must use it before it leaves me.”
“I will ask Belia to send you more of her tonic.”
“Do that. And there is one more task I have for you.”
“Ask it.”
Isabel stared at him. “I need you to find somewhere remote, but close to the city. I must stare on the palace. It calls to me. You know it does. I would set my eyes on its wonder, and you will find me somewhere from where to do so. Go do what you are good at, but return here shortly after noon and you will show me where we can watch from.”
Thomas stared at her until she waved her fingers.
“You can go now. This food is perfectly safe. You will not need to put your mouth on mine again.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“What is in that tonic you give her?” Thomas watched as Belia mixed herbs together. She ground them with a pestle and mortar, then tipped them into boiling water. “Is that more you are making? She asked for more.”
“She will. It raises the spirits of a woman in a wondrous way.”
Thomas stared at Belia, her black hair, eyes almost as dark. He had joined his body with hers, but believed he barely knew her.
“She wants me t
o find somewhere she can observe al-Hamra from.”
Belia laughed. She picked out three pale leaves and cut them into small pieces.
“Your house on the Albayzin offers a fine view of the palace.”
“Why didn’t I think of that? The Queen of Castile walking through the Albayzin.”
“Its people would no doubt rise up and follow her, for they have no love for Abu Abdullah.”
“I still think not. Isabel is different today, is that the tonic?”
“Possibly. She came close to death. She would have died if not for you. That can change a person, but most likely it is the tonic. What else does she have for you to do?”
“Nothing much. Only to conclude arrangements for a meeting with Abu Abdullah, find this wondrous place I have no idea where to look for, and catch those who tried to kill her. I have a mind to talk to the cook again.”
“Do you think it involves the cook?”
“I intend to confront her until she tells me the truth. It’s possible Koparsh paid her to let Salma and Yves cook for Isabel, and she doesn’t want to admit it. If there is truth in that, it also explains why Baldomero was used.”
Belia glanced at Thomas, her expression stern, but he knew that meant nothing.
“You do not have to do everything yourself. Use your friends. Send Jorge to talk to the cook. Send Usaden to track down Salma. Set me to making this tonic for Isabel.”
Over in one corner, Jahan, lying in his wicker cot, began to complain. Belia glanced across and gave a sigh.
“He is hungry all the time these days. Here, finish cutting the leaves as fine as you can, then steep them in the mixture. Let it boil while you count to three hundred, then filter the liquor into that jar.”
“Will it be finished then?”
“Almost. Do you think you can manage a task as complex as that?”
“I will do my best. You need to feed Jahan solid food. You cannot keep him at your breast until he is a grown man.”
“Jorge never complains.”
“Jorge wouldn’t, would he?”
Thomas turned back to the task set before him. He had seen Belia feed Jahan often enough to feel no discomfort at the sight, but he had a job to do. He finished cutting the leaves, set them in the hot water and counted.
Jorge came into the room.
“Usaden has found what you need.”
Thomas held a hand up, his lips moving as he reached ninety.
“He is counting for me,” said Belia. “Do not disturb him.”
“Counting? Are you sure he can count?”
“I am doing it as well in case some foolish person should come and distract him.”
“Should I stand at the door to prevent such a thing?” asked Jorge.
“Are there any foolish people left out there?” Belia lifted Jahan from her breast, uncovered the other and set him to suckle there.
Thomas reached three hundred. He pressed fine muslin into the wide neck of the bottle Belia had set for the purpose and used tongs to pour the dark liquor into it. When the beaker was empty, he set it aside, but not before he had sniffed the dark mess remaining. He recognised some scents, but not all.
“There is honey on the shelf,” said Belia. “Pour a little in, but not too much. Just enough to take the bitterness away.”
“How will I know how much that is?”
“Taste, Thomas. It is what any good apothecary does, the same as a cook. Otherwise, how are we to know when our work is done?” Jahan had gone back to sleep and Belia laid him in his cot before covering herself.
“Can’t you do it? You’re finished now, aren’t you?”
“I am trying to teach you something.”
“But not the recipe.”
“Perhaps I will reveal that secret to you when you have set a girl in my belly. I trust you have not forgotten that is one more duty you must carry out?”
“Jorge never allows me to.” Thomas found the honey and used a small spoon to add a tiny amount to the mixture. Once it had dissolved, he used the same spoon to taste the warm liquor and pulled a face. Too bitter.
He added two more spoonfuls and tried again. Better.
“How much of this does Isabel take?”
“Theresa knows, but about as much as you have taken now.”
“I assume it is not poison.”
“I need to keep you alive, remember?”
Thomas passed the bottle to Belia before turning to Jorge.
“All right, what has Usaden found out? Has he found Salma or Yves? I suspect if he finds one, he will find the other.”
“He says he has the perfect place for your tryst with Isabel.”
“Tryst? What are you talking about?”
“The way Usaden explained it to me, you asked him to find somewhere safe where you and she could steal away to be alone together.”
“What else did he say? You know there is something else.”
Jorge waved a hand in dismissal. “He might have mentioned it must be within sight of al-Hamra.”
An hour later, Thomas stood beside Usaden looking at a small farmhouse while Kin chased rabbits that ran from beneath one side of the wall, where they had made a burrow beneath the abandoned building.
The walls were solid, rising two floors, but half the roof had caved in. At some time in the recent past, a fire had been set and allowed to burn.
“What is it like inside? Safe?”
“Take a look. I will stay here in case anyone comes.”
Thomas looked around. The house sat closer to Gharnatah’s walls than the Castilian army, and a stand of trees that had escaped Fernando’s firestorms offered cover almost the entire way there.
“Who is going to come?”
“Would you prefer I am not ready if they do? The door on this side is sound, but the further one is not.”
Usaden turned to survey the approach. Thomas knew when he was dismissed and entered the building. The lower floor took up the entire space. A narrow set of stairs led to a hole in the ceiling, and Thomas tested each tread as he ascended. Upstairs comprised of two bedrooms by the look of the furnishings, not that there was much left of them, though one bed was intact. It stood in the room Thomas knew was perfect for Isabel’s purpose. A window in the eastern wall had fallen out, together with some of the surrounding stone. The opening framed the palace sitting on top of its red hill. Thomas felt he could reach out to touch its walls. Yes, this was the place.
He turned and descended the stairs and went outside to thank Usaden, who shrugged. All he had done was what was asked of him. No thanks were needed.
“I do not think she is well enough for this madness.” Theresa blocked Thomas’s way, her arms crossed. He could have brushed past her, but didn’t.
“It’s been almost a week, and Belia’s tonic has worked a miracle.”
“I still think it too dangerous. I have told her so, but she refuses to listen to me. She is obsessed with that damned palace.” Theresa stared into Thomas’s eyes and he wondered what this was really about. “I should come with you.”
“Then you would also be in danger. Not that there is going to be any danger. None at all.”
“Is that Thomas?” Isabel’s voice sounded from the room Theresa was trying to stop him entering. “Send him in, I am ready.” Her voice was bright with excitement and an edge of mischief.
Theresa leaned close and whispered into Thomas’s ear, “If you let any harm come to her, I will ensure you die a slow and painful death.”
Thomas grinned and kissed her cheek. As he turned away, Theresa held out her hand. Gripped in it was a linen sack containing something weighty.
“You will need this. Isabel asked for food for the journey.”
“Who made it?”
“I did.”
Thomas took the sack, then brushed past her into the room. He wondered if Belia’s tonic was having an effect on him too. He felt as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and in that he knew he was wrong.
Isabel
stood ready, but if he hadn’t heard her voice, he may not have recognised her. She was dressed as a boy, dark hose, brown shoes, white linen shirt and brown vest. Her lustrous hair was tied up and forced beneath a cap. She gave a little curtsy.
“Will I pass as an ordinary person, Thomas?”
“I believe you will. Even so, I have worked out a route that avoids us being seen.”
Isabel came across and took his hand. “This will be our secret, yes?”
“Yes.”
“If Fernando discovers what we are about to do, he will be angry. Even more angry than he usually is. Did Theresa threaten to have you hung by your heels should anything happen to me?”
“Worse.”
“Good.” Isabel released his hand and made for the door.
When Thomas followed, he found Theresa no longer standing guard. The long corridor was deserted, as arranged, and they headed for the rear door. Outside, a breeze from the north tempered the heat of the day. Thomas pulled his tagelmust around his face to hide it before stopping. Everyone knew who he was by the way he dressed, but if anyone saw them, with luck they might consider the figure beside him to be his son. Except if they knew Will, it would be obvious Isabel was far too slight, and despite her clothes, she still walked like a woman. Fortunately, they saw only a few people, and none of them showed any interest.
Thomas pointed to the tree-line and they made their way towards it. Once they were beneath the wood’s cover, the air cooled even further.
“Is it far?” asked Isabel. Her hand came out and sought his and Thomas allowed the touch, aware of something different between them. Perhaps her brush with death had changed her. Escaping death had a habit of changing people. Sometimes for the better, more often for the worse. He was still unsure about the new Isabel. She was softer and looked younger, her manner also that of a girl rather than a grown woman with a host of responsibilities.
They stayed in the wood for some time, Isabel’s hand in his the whole time. Birds sang, and now and again some animal crashed away through the undergrowth, but Thomas never saw what it was. He knew there were ibex, boar and even lynx nearby, but he feared none of them.