A Tear for the Dead

by David Penny

“Am I sending men to their deaths?”

  “There is a risk in every new venture, but I believe this one may succeed. Who can tell when a man sets sail into the great ocean?”

  “Indeed, who can tell? You will come here again tomorrow in time for us all to leave together. I want you to ride beside myself and Fernando. I need people to see where your place is. Where you belong.”

  “Your men of God will not like it.”

  “Which is why I am planning not to take many of them. Our numbers are limited and I want only those I trust, and those who have proven their worth. Did you bring your children again?” When Thomas nodded, Isabel said, “I worry that Catherine likes your son too much. Not to mention the older girls, who are possibly the more dangerous. But I will not prevent their meeting if you give me your promise.”

  “My promise of what?”

  “That you will explain to him they are princesses and there can be nothing but friendship between them. I asked Theresa to speak with some of my daughters to explain the same.”

  “What did they think of that?”

  “They were not pleased, but they are sensible girls, with older heads than their years, and they know their responsibilities. Catherine need know nothing of that conversation yet. Her love for Will is innocent still.”

  “I have already spoken with Will and he also understands. They are young yet, let them enjoy their friendship while they can. Soon enough they will have more responsibility than they might wish.”

  “When your son is of an age, I will arrange a suitable match.”

  “I would prefer he makes his own choice.”

  “As you wish, but remember my offer. You are to be at my side for a long time yet, I pray. I can find a place for all of you.”

  “Even Jorge?”

  “All of you.” Isabel suppressed a smile. “Though what I might find for him could prove a problem.”

  When Thomas turned to leave, Isabel rose from behind the desk and came to him. She took both his hands in hers and stared up at his face.

  “You will be beside me, won’t you, Thomas?”

  “Until you tell me otherwise. I am your man now, to do with as you wish.”

  Isabel released her hold and he went in search of his children. He found them all together, even Juan who now usually considered himself too old to mix with the younger ones. He was a prince of Castile and that responsibility seemed to place a heavy weight on him. He was pleased to see Thomas, even if they now grasped each other’s arms rather than hug as they once had. It had been many years since Thomas broke the boy’s leg to reset it and now he walked with barely any limp at all.

  As they approached the house, Will carrying Jahan, Thomas carrying Amal, who said she was a princess now and princesses did not have to walk, Kin came bounding down the slope. Which meant Usaden had returned.

  Thomas picked up his pace, knowing Will would have no trouble keeping up.

  “He led me to the valley beyond the one where your woman died.”

  “She wasn’t my woman,” Thomas said.

  Usaden didn’t look convinced. “One of your women, then.”

  They sat once more around the table, as they so often did. This time, Will was with them, leaning forward to listen intently.

  “How many?” Thomas asked.

  “I counted eighty-three, but there may be more. They are in an old fort two days north of here and I could not get inside without being seen.”

  “So not the twenty Koparsh claims. Did you see him or Salma?”

  “They rode out together on the second day to a nearby town. Salma bought something, but I could not see what it was, then they rode back.” Usaden raised his eyes to meet Thomas’s. “There was a third person with them. Your son, Yves.”

  Thomas cursed. “Did he look as if he was a captive?”

  “He had the chance to ride away from them, but did not.”

  “Love,” said Jorge and Thomas nodded.

  “So he is involved with them and everything he told me is a lie.” Thomas didn’t want to consider the implications, though he knew he would have to soon enough. “I can’t think about any of this right now. Isabel is preparing to ride out to meet with Abu Abdullah. If the talks go well, it means the end of the war before the turn of the year, possibly sooner.” Thomas pinched between his eyes with finger and thumb, but the tension there only grew. “She wants me with her.” He looked at Usaden. “Is there anything you can do while I am away?”

  “Nothing, because I will be close to you. I will not let you ride into danger if I am not nearby. I know the Queen will not sanction my presence, but I will never be far away and I will be watching. Like I did the last time.”

  “What about you?” Thomas asked Jorge. “Isabel tells me I can bring anyone I want and I want you with me. I value your expertise with people. I’m also interested to see how Abu Abdullah behaves when he sees both of us there.”

  “Of course I will come.”

  “It is settled then, if Belia agrees to care for the children once more. I will make it up to you both. I would send Theresa to help, but Isabel has requested she also come.”

  “I will stay,” said Belia, “and you know how you can make it up to me.”

  Thomas nodded. A daughter for Jorge. Not such an arduous debt to pay.

  “Pa?” said Will.

  “You will help Belia.”

  “I want to come with you.”

  Thomas stared at his son. Taller than Usaden, though Usaden was not a tall man, Will was also broader across the shoulders.

  “Let him come,” said Jorge. “He needs to learn skills other than how to fight. It will do him good.”

  “Please, Pa?”

  “If you allow him,” said Belia, “I will take Amal and Jahan back to our house in Gharnatah. I want to do some work there and Helena will be company. They will be as safe there as they are here. I assume your dog will be with Usaden. When you return, come back there if you can.”

  Thomas looked around the table at each of them. Jorge at ease. Will tense. Usaden standing with Kin at his feet. Amal playing with Jahan on the floor, her profile exactly like that of her mother. Belia, as mysterious to him as ever, even after what they had shared.

  “Yes, you can come,” he said to Will, hoping he would have no reason to regret the decision.

  They rode out from Santa Fe at dawn. Fifty soldiers accompanied them as agreed, plus another twenty hangers-on, who included Thomas, Jorge and Will. There was Fernando and Juan, who was turning into a man at fourteen years of age. He was being groomed for power and Thomas believed he would make a good King. He was harder than he had once been, but that was to be expected, and the core of him remained. As well as Isabel’s close retinue, there was Catherine, who was also being groomed for her future role as a queen. There were men of God and men of power. These made up the bulk of their twenty and Thomas hoped they would not interfere too much.

  He expected Abu Abdullah to come with a similar number in addition to his fifty protectors, one of whom would be Olaf. Thomas knew Will would be glad to see him, but didn’t know if he could. The soldiers were to remain at a distance to ensure the good behaviour of the other side and to offer protection. From what danger was a question nobody had thought to ask.

  The afternoon was fading before they reached al-Loraya. The gold light of a lowering sun bathed the walls of the fort on its rocky outcrop, giving it a more welcome air than it deserved. Abu Abdullah and his troops had appeared a few hours earlier. They maintained a distance of a mile, which shrank as they neared the town. Now the soldiers had been left behind and only those involved in the negotiations advanced, the distance between their smaller groups shrinking as the streets forced them closer.

  Thomas rode beside Martin de Alarcón, the first chance he had had to speak with him in almost a week.

  “Did you ever find any trace of that cook?” he asked.

  “Fled,” said Martin. “Her house was empty, clothes missing. The neighbours said they s
aw her leaving two days after Isabel was taken ill.”

  “Not taken ill—poisoned.”

  “After Isabel was poisoned, then, but gone she is. I suspect she ran as soon as you finished talking to her.”

  “I half expected you to find a body.”

  Ahead, Isabel and Fernando had slowed as they approached the foot of the slope that would lead to the fort.

  “As did I,” said Martin. “If she has any sense, she won’t stop running until she reaches France or Italia.”

  “I still don’t think Koparsh will let her live. She knows too much and I would dearly love to know what it is.”

  “You know he is guilty, as is his concubine. Is that not enough?”

  Thomas wondered if Martin omitted Yves’ name on purpose.

  Isabel had dismounted and now walked back to Thomas and Martin.

  “Go talk to Boabdil,” she said to Thomas. “Tell him what you and I discussed.”

  “Shall I go as well, Your Grace?” asked Martin.

  “Only Thomas. And perhaps Jorge. Take your son as well if you wish.” She turned in her saddle to see where Will was, smiled when she saw him riding beside Catherine. “Perhaps not.”

  “I will go alone,” Thomas said. He turned his horse and encouraged it into a canter.

  He saw Abu Abdullah send a man out to meet him, but it was not an attempt to discourage him. Thomas drew up in front of the Sultan who had once threatened to kill him.

  “There are quarters arranged in the town for your people,” Thomas said, “but you and anyone you choose have rooms in the fort. Queen Isabel has invited you to eat with her tonight if you will honour her with your presence.”

  Abu Abdullah laughed. “I hear she has a reputation for eating poisoned food, so perhaps it is not a sensible idea.”

  “Everything will be tasted and I have uncovered the culprits in that matter.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “I will.”

  “And the eunuch? I see him over there, together with your son. Who is that he rides beside? Does he have a young lover already?”

  “That is the Queen’s daughter, Catherine. They are friends.”

  “She is the one promised to England?”

  “You are well informed, Malik.”

  “Knowledge is power, is it not? I believe it might even have been you who first said that to me.”

  “It is possible, though I have said many things, not all of them sensible. Shall I say you will join her?”

  Abu Abdullah stared at Thomas for a long time before offering a nod.

  “Tell her it will be my honour to accept, though I may arrange for my own food.”

  “The food will be good, Malik. Isabel likes spice as much as a Moor, though there will be other dishes of a blander nature. And meat. A great deal of meat.”

  “Perhaps she and I can talk and we will settle this matter today, then we can all go home and sleep in our own beds.”

  “Yes, perhaps we can.”

  “Will the King be there?”

  “He will.”

  “I hear it is she who decides. Is that right, Thomas?”

  “Do you expect me to give an honest answer, Malik?”

  Abu Abdullah laughed. “Your refusal is answer enough. Tell her it will be my pleasure.”

  Thomas nodded to Aixa, who had watched the conversation in silence, a sour expression on her face. He wondered if she grieved for Tarfe, her youngest son, but doubted it. Grief would require her to possess a heart. He knew she would be at the meal, which might be a problem if she contributed to the discussion. Thomas would ask Jorge to sit close to her. Theresa also.

  As he rode back, he played different scenarios through his head before deciding to ask Isabel to arrange the seating so that those of Castile and Gharnatah were mixed together. He recognised language might be an issue, but knew Abu Abdullah had some Castilian, as did almost everyone who once spoke only Arabic. It was the sensible thing to do.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The solution had been Jorge’s idea, and when Thomas went to Isabel with it, she agreed at once. Thomas was concerned Fernando might attempt to dominate Isabel if they sat together and he wanted Abu Abdullah close to her so they could talk without being overheard.

  “Cushions,” Jorge said as they stood waiting for Isabel to finish talking with the key-holder of the fort, who was achieving his ambition to meet the Queen of Castile. A small price to pay for what he had offered them access to.

  “What?” Thomas was distracted as he tried to come up with a solution to the problem.

  “How does Abu Abdullah like to eat? The same way as all Moors, which is to sit on a cushion with a low table. I have seen Isabel do the same on occasion. Even you can manage it, though not without a great deal of complaint.”

  Thomas grinned and kissed Jorge on the cheek.

  “Always with a promise and never the delivery,” he said, as Thomas moved away.

  Now they sat on cushions and Thomas had tried not to complain. Abu Abdullah sat to his right, Isabel beyond him. On Thomas’s other side sat Jorge, with Aixa beyond him—far enough from the low conversation that he hoped Jorge could control her if she attempted to interrupt.

  They had invited Fernando to join them, but he said he preferred to sit on a chair like a civilised man. A low table had been found and set in one corner. They had obtained piles of silk cushions from the residents of the town, and a dozen people sat picking at the spiced dishes arrayed across the table. In deference to Abu Abdullah, there was no wine. Instead, a variety of teas, juices and coffee was available.

  Thomas made no pretence at not listening to their conversation, conducted primarily in Castilian Spanish. Every now and again, Abu Abdullah would ask for help in communicating a concept he lacked the words for. It was an interesting challenge, making Thomas aware there were some ideas that had no equivalent in the other language, on both sides. Despite the occasional stumble, slow progress was being made.

  Isabel was dressed in fine Moorish robes. Gold threads ran through the silk and her head was covered. She showed no ill-effects from her brush with death, and Abu Abdullah was charmed. He also cast occasional glances in Theresa’s direction. She had dressed herself in the same manner, but without covering her head. She looked stunning, as beautiful as Thomas had ever seen her, and he experienced a brief pang of loss before deciding what had happened was entirely his own fault.

  “Thomas, where is Tablatee?” asked Isabel. “Do you know the town?”

  “It is south of Gharnatah, Your Grace, and straddles the road south to Salobreña.” He had heard Abu Abdullah’s demand and knew this fact important.

  “Then no, you cannot claim the town,” she said to Abu Abdullah, a smile on her face to soften the words as she reached out to touch his wrist with her fingers. Thomas thought of all the times she had done the same to him and wondered if it was for the same reason—using the power a woman possesses over a man to persuade him into an action he might not want to take. Isabel leaned around to look at Thomas. “Tell me a suitable town. The Sultan has agreed terms, though they will need to be confirmed tomorrow by our people. He demands a swathe of lands as his own in the Alpujarras. You know them well, I believe. What can we offer?” She spoke quickly and Thomas knew it was deliberate so that Abu Abdullah could not follow her words.

  “He needs to go east, much further east.” He said the words in English, aware Isabel would understand. He saw her smile. “There is a township called Laujar de Andarax in your language. It would be suitable, together with the surrounding lands.”

  Despite not understanding the words, Abu Abdullah heard the name of the town and shook his head.

  “No, it is too isolated. Am I not a king equal to you as a queen?”

  “But you are shortly to be a defeated king, Malik.” Isabel used the honorific deliberately. “I am generous in making this offer. If you refuse, I will have no choice but to unleash my husband. Your city will be destroyed and your life forfei
t.”

  Thomas was aware he had never witnessed this side of Isabel before and it took his breath away. She was magnificent. He saw Abu Abdullah cowed by her majesty and power.

  “Perhaps you will allow me to come up with a proposal, Malik? Your Grace?”

  Abu Abdullah looked at him. There was fear in his eyes.

  “You?”

  Thomas leaned out so he could meet Isabel’s gaze.

  “And Olaf Torvaldsson?” He waited until she nodded before turning back to the Sultan. “Myself and Olaf, Malik. Together with anyone you would want to add, but remember for each person on one side, there will have to be another added for balance. A small group can decide more easily.”

  “Just so long as the Alarcón is not involved.” Abu Abdullah turned back to Isabel. “Now, about a date and the other arrangements.”

  It was late before Thomas found a glass of wine. He felt he deserved one. At least one. He sipped at it as he sat at the big table on a real chair, grateful for the comfort. His back ached from sitting on the cushions. Most of those who had attended the meal were gone, so it surprised him when someone pulled a chair out and sat next to him. He was even more surprised to discover that someone was Abu Abdullah.

  “Is that wine?” the Sultan asked, reverting to his native Arabic.

  “It is. Do you want some?”

  “It is against the Qur’an.”

  “I am aware of that, but you know I do not follow your religion.”

  “Perhaps one goblet, in consideration of what we have achieved.”

  Thomas reached out and found a clean glass and poured the wine.

  “I have drunk it before, on occasions that demanded it. She is glorious, is she not?” Abu Abdullah’s eyes were on Isabel, who stood talking with Theresa and Jorge. Fernando had disappeared an hour before, no doubt to start the serious drinking with his cronies.

  “She can be less intimidating to those who know her.”

  “Those like you, Thomas? Is it true you share her bed? What is she like? Looking at her now, I imagine she would be a disappointment, but if she is as she was earlier, then you are a lucky man. Which is it?”