by David Penny
“Are we going to fight another day, Pa?” Will’s voice hitched. “They’re going to kill us, aren’t they? I don’t want to die. I’ve barely lived and now I’m never going to find out about any of that stuff Jorge told me.”
Thomas pulled Will against him and kissed the top of his head.
“We’re not going to die.”
Will melted against him. The boy’s arms circled his waist, holding tight to the father who had always offered protection. Thomas stared into space, wondering how he could make good on that promise now.
Time passed slowly and the air grew hot, the sun baking the tiles above their heads. Will fell into a doze. Thomas’s eyes grew heavy and he fought to stay awake. He needed to be ready when Koparsh sent his men. He hadn’t believed him when he said they would live. Why would he make such a mistake when he had made few so far? Thomas knew he might not triumph, but he would not die without taking at least some of them with him.
The sound of the door opening woke him and he rose fast. Will was a little slower, but within moments, he stood at his side. Then Thomas laughed.
“How did you get in here?” He glanced at the dagger in Usaden’s hand, the tip of which dripped blood.
“Are you going to stand there all day, or do you want to escape?”
“Escape, if it’s all the same to you.”
Usaden shrugged.
“Where are the others?”
“Waiting for you. When neither of you returned, Olaf guessed you must have been killed or captured. I voted for killed, but Olaf said captured. So I came to find out if I was right or wrong.” For a moment, Usaden almost smiled. “I am pleased to see I was wrong, but you owe me a silver coin.”
“For freeing us it should be gold.”
“For the wager Olaf and I made over whether you were alive or dead.”
“How do we get out? Do we have to fight?”
“These steps lead down to a door, which is the way I came in. Some fool forgot to lock it.”
“Or someone opened it for you. Is Jorge with you?”
“Possibly. I told him to stay outside. Are we going to stand here talking or should we leave while we can?”
“Leave,” said Will, going to Usaden and embracing him.
Thomas drew the door shut behind him as he left the room. As he descended the steps, he passed four men slumped in various positions, all of them dead. They would have stood little chance against Usaden. Outside, Jorge embraced Thomas, and then knelt to throw the lock on the door, another small addition to their safety. Added together, one by one, they might make a difference.
“Who else?” Thomas asked as they moved away. He felt vulnerable in the bright light, but Usaden led them to a shallow defile where they ducked down to take advantage of what little cover it offered.
“Olaf and your friend Martin.”
“And the others?”
“Olaf sent them back. He said it will be only us. The same as when we went after Mandana.”
“We took an army with us that time.”
“Almost the same, then. We talked it through while we were waiting for you to come back, assuming you had been captured, not killed. Olaf says, and I agree, they will send men out to find us. As Mandana did, remember? And we killed them and sent the bodies back. We pick them off one by one.”
“And if they send their entire force?”
“I spent my time after leaving you searching for any sign of them and found none. There are a hundred camped a few miles south, but only that. We are few and they are many. They will never catch us.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The defile ended, then scattered boulders sat at intervals and they made their way from one to another until they reached the tree-line. Olaf sat with his back to a cork oak while Martin de Alarcón stood in the shade.
“I am glad to see you are not dead, Thomas,” said Olaf, rising to his feet. “Even more glad to see you, Will. It is not like either of you to get caught.”
“Koparsh will come after us soon. Why did you send your men away?”
“If we had kept them much longer, Abu Abdullah or Fernando would wonder what we are up to.”
“Koparsh has hundreds of men.”
Olaf raised a shoulder. “Usaden told me, but how many are in that house? It does not look big enough to hold hundreds.”
“There are others close.”
“But not close enough. So again, how many in the house? Martin rode out this morning and saw the men Usaden found, but no larger force is hidden anywhere. We both think he’s sent them away. To what purpose concerns us both.”
“I would like to know in which direction they have gone,” said Martin.
“They are not enough to bother either Castile or Gharnatah,” Thomas said. “And their leader is here, not with them.” He looked back at Olaf. “I don’t know how many in the house, only those I saw and those Usaden killed.”
Olaf smiled. “I am glad he is on our side. So we do not know what we may be up against?”
“We wait and see,” Thomas said. “Unless you have something better to do? I don’t intend to abandon my son.”
“Will is here,” said Olaf.
“My other son. Yves.” Thomas wondered if he still lived. Koparsh had been ruthless in disposing of those who served him and failed. Baldomero. Eleanor. The cook. All killed except for Salma. Had Yves also been disposed of? Thomas knew he had to work on the assumption he still lived.
Olaf walked to the edge of the trees and stared across the wide plain to where the house sat perched on a jumble of crags in the distance. Nothing moved on the open ground between.
Without saying a word, Usaden ran down the slope. After a moment, Kin rose from where he was lying and chased after him.
“Where is he going now?” asked Martin.
“Who knows?” Thomas said.
“This Yves,” said Martin. “Is he the one I met in Córdoba the year before last? The son of the French Countess? He is your son? I heard word that was possible, but did not know whether to believe it. I also heard his mother was screwing the King.”
“It’s complicated,” Thomas said.
“It sounds as if it is. So is he captive, or a willing accomplice?”
“That I don’t know, but would like to. You saw the Salma woman when Koparsh was in Santa Fe, didn’t you?”
Martin nodded. “She was in Fernando’s quarters in the weeks before the attempt on the Queen. I can see how a man could be swayed by someone like her, but she is a dangerous companion, is she not?”
“It was she who almost killed Isabel. Why she didn’t kill Fernando when she had the chance, I don’t understand, unless to do so would have shown her hand too soon.”
“Theresa told me all about her, and what she did.”
“I keep forgetting you two are lovers.”
“As do I, but it makes the remembrance all the more pleasant. Do we wait? I dislike doing nothing.”
“We wait,” said Olaf. “Those we seek are in that house. They will have to come out sometime, and when they do, we make a judgement once we know their numbers and where they are headed.”
“Where they go is no matter,” Thomas said. “We must punish them.” He stared at the barren land, the brown grass and occasional stunted tree. The air shimmered as the sun rose higher and baked the ground.
“If they are less than a score, we attack directly,” said Olaf. “Yes?”
Thomas thought of the manner of fight that might be and nodded.
“Agreed, but I want Will safe before we launch an attack.”
“I stay.” Will had listened to the conversation without comment until that moment.
“You have done well so far,” Thomas said, “but this will be hard killing. It’s no place for a boy.”
“You can’t make me go.”
“Let him stay,” said Olaf. “He speaks the truth, you cannot make him leave, and we cannot spare a man to tie him to a horse and carry him back. You know how stu
bborn he is, he will only return as soon as he is left on his own. Besides, he is ready.”
“He is ten years old,” Thomas said.
“And the grandson of Olaf Torvaldsson. You saw how he fought in Al-Loraya. Do not tell me he is not ready.”
Thomas took Olaf’s arm and led him a short distance away.
“Killing those men hurt him in a place beyond my skills to heal.”
“He will learn to heal himself if he is the man I believe him to be. The first time is hard, it always is, but it gets easier. You of all men must know it does.”
“I don’t want him to be like you and me. He is better than either of us.”
“I chose to be a warrior,” said Olaf. “Did you? No, you have told me you did not, but when the time came, you accepted what you could not turn away from. Will has to do the same, you know he does.”
“This war is about to end. There will be less need to fight when it does.”
Olaf laughed. “Let him stay, I will make sure nobody kills my sonson.”
Thomas shook his head. “Don’t you mean dotterson?”
“You have known me too long, Thomas, if you recognise that much of my language. No, I mean what I say.” Olaf clapped Thomas on the shoulder, almost sending him to his knees. “I consider you my son now, so Will is my sonson.”
They sat and waited as the sun rose to its zenith and moved beyond. Flies swarmed until Thomas wrapped his tagelmust around his face so only his eyes showed. In the distance, something moved. A single man, a single dog. They came up the slope at a run and Usaden folded his legs to sit amongst them.
“Koparsh’s army went north. I could not catch up with them, but the sign was clear enough. I would say they left almost as soon as they arrived from the battle. He has sent them away for certain.”
“But we still don’t know how many in the house,” Thomas said.
“Four less than there were,” said Usaden. “I can go back tonight and find out.”
“Let them come to us, but we can’t stay here much longer. We’re going to need water soon, and food. But agreed, we wait. If they haven’t shown themselves by nightfall, we find somewhere. There must be a town around here.”
“We passed one four hours before we got here,” said Martin. “It wasn’t much of a town, but it will do.”
“It lay south,” Thomas said. “When they leave, I expect them to go north after their men. We should—”
The rattle of hoofs brought him to his feet. For a moment, he thought Koparsh had avoided them and was about to launch an attack, then he saw a single rider racing down the slope.
“Will!” Thomas yelled, but his son continued to ride hard.
“He rides well,” said Martin.
“What does he think he’s doing?”
“He is clever,” said Usaden. “He is doing what we should have done. We have been too passive. Will is going to draw them out.”
“Or get himself killed.”
“No, he is not. Look, it is working.”
Will had covered a quarter of the distance to the house when men emerged. They swarmed in confusion, dots barely bigger than the flies that swarmed around Thomas, then they recovered their wits and mounted horses.
“Turn back,” Thomas whispered, but Will went on, directly towards the men.
Usaden ran back into the trees in search of a horse, and after a moment, the others followed, but Thomas feared they were already too late. He was slow tightening his saddle, but saw Usaden didn’t bother with one and was first away, him and the horse becoming one. Thomas finally mounted and followed, fearing they were too few. Far too few.
Will came within two hundred paces of the lead riders before he swerved hard, almost bringing his horse to its knees. He urged it to a fresh effort and rode back in the direction of the five of them, who were closing the gap.
Olaf raised an arm. “Slow down, we wait for him here.”
Thomas rose from the saddle and shaded his eyes. How many? Too many.
“I count twenty-nine,” said Martin.
“As do I,” said Jorge.
“I don’t see Koparsh or Salma,” Thomas said.
Usaden rode ahead before returning.
“They are not there, I am sure.”
Will was halfway back to them when Thomas looked around at where they were.
“We should make a stand on that rise.” He pointed to where a cluster of rocks formed a mound. They would make it harder for the attackers to approach. Olaf nodded and urged his horse in that direction before dismounting.
“We form a circle facing out,” he said. “Backs as close together as we can get. Thomas, Will comes between you and me, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
They climbed through the rocks and made ready. Will pulled his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle and Kin came up the low slope at his side. Thomas made room and they waited.
The riders came hard and fast, spreading out as they approached, but not slowing.
“They are going to break their horses’ legs,” said Martin.
“It will make it all the easier to kill them.” Already the cold was flooding into Thomas, making the world sharp around him. He laid a hand on Will’s shoulder, as much for his own comfort as to offer any, and was pleased to feel only firm muscle and no tremor. They might live to see the sun set.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The riders came closer, almost on them as the thunder of hooves shook the ground beneath Thomas’s feet, and then the front ranks parted. They flowed around the mound of rocks without slowing, to merge again once past. Thomas turned to see if they intended to attack from both sides, but the riders kept going. The dust of their passage slowly settled around the small group on the knoll. Several minutes passed. Only then did Thomas allow himself to hope.
“Koparsh wasn’t among them,” said Jorge. “Nor Salma or Yves.”
“What are they doing?” asked Olaf. “There were enough to kill us all. Why did they not even try?”
“We would have taken half their number,” Thomas said. “Koparsh knew that. He has seen how we fight. He wants to keep as many of his men alive as he can.” Thomas watched the distant riders as they moved away. “They’re going north to join their companions.”
“Leaving Koparsh alone,” said Usaden.
Thomas turned back. The house was closer now, close enough to see any movement around it, but there was none.
“I don’t understand. Why would they send their soldiers away?”
“Do not question our good fortune.” Olaf picked his way down the slope. Usaden passed him, leaping from stone to stone with ease.
They re-mounted their horses and headed towards the house. Thomas’s unease remained and he kept turning to look back to where Koparsh’s men had disappeared, but the land lay quiet.
Thomas dismounted and left his horse to wander in search of grass. He glanced at Usaden.
“You and me?”
Usaden nodded.
“Stay here and keep an eye on Will,” Thomas said to Olaf. “Don’t let him follow until I call you inside. This could be a trap.”
“In which case we should all go,” said Olaf.
“We know the lie of the land inside, you don’t. If you hear a fight, then come in after us, but stay with Will, promise me.”
They got as far as the heavy oak door before being halted. It was locked.
“Jorge,” Thomas called, waving him over. “We need you.”
He waited as Jorge knelt and used a sliver of metal to free the lock. Thomas recalled the first time Jorge had demonstrated his ability to open doors that were not meant to be opened. It had been many years before and come as a surprise. How had a palace eunuch learned such a thing? He tried to recall if Jorge had ever offered an explanation, but could not. If he had, Thomas had forgotten it, or more likely not listened hard enough. He knew he did that more than he should.
Jorge rose and pushed the door open with a grin.
“You can thank me l
ater.”
Usaden was first in, Thomas close behind. Jorge followed despite being told to stay outside. They stood in a loose triangle, each of them listening. There was nothing. The air felt stale, the house abandoned.
“Split up,” Thomas said. “Search every room and corridor. Call out if you find anyone.”
Usaden went right, Jorge left. Thomas climbed the stone steps, which he knew eventually led to the small room where he and Will had been held prisoner. He went slowly, checking every passage and room that led off the steps, but each was abandoned. The room they had eaten in still had the table sitting square in the middle, the remains of a meal scattered across it. The tapestries had been cut down and piled on the floor. He almost missed what they covered before he caught sight of a foot emerging from beneath their folds. He knelt to lift the heavy material from the body beneath until Yves emerged. He lay on his side, eyes closed.
“In here!” Thomas called out, an unexpected emotion rising through him. He had lost the woman he once loved, and now a son he barely knew, all in the space of a few weeks.
Then Yves drew a breath and coughed.
Thomas rolled him to his back and tore open his shirt. He lay a hand on Yves’ chest, felt a steady heartbeat. He opened his son’s mouth and ran his fingers around inside, examined them for any trace of food he might have eaten, but there was nothing.
Jorge entered the room and knelt beside him.
“Is he dead?”
“Alive, for the moment.”
“Why did they leave him?”
“Perhaps he is meant to be dead.”
“I don’t understand. A knife to the heart would have been more sure.”
“This is Salma’s doing. She can’t help herself, she has to show her power, her skill.”
“So he’s poisoned?”
“I don’t know!” Thomas was sharper than intended, but he was afraid Yves was going to die. He wondered why he cared as much as he did. He had only just started to know the man, and what he had found out had not endeared him. But he was his flesh and blood. Thomas would fight to keep him alive if he could.
He stood as Usaden came into the room.