The Fortunate Dead (Thomas Berrington Historical Mystery Book 6)

by David Penny

  The Fortunate Dead

  David Penny

  For Mum

  Betty Penny 1928 - 2017

  Never without a book at her side or a joke on the tip of her tongue. And she called me cheeky?

  Contents

  Malaka 1487

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Historical Note

  References

  Place Names

  Also by David Penny

  About the Author

  Malaka 1487

  Map of Malaka, 1487, Copyright Thomas Shepherd 2018, based on an original on display in the Malaga museum. To view a larger image on my website click the map.

  One

  “Tell me, exactly, how did you manage to lose a body?”

  Thomas Berrington stared at a wooden pallet, its surface stained by years of misuse. He wiped at his blood-stained hands with a damp cloth but it did little good. Only a long bath might make him clean again.

  “I didn’t lose it,” said Lubna, her face set. “I delivered the woman to this pallet before noon and informed the mortuary officer of her location.”

  “Perhaps the family collected it. Did you check?” Thomas made little attempt to hide his impatience. Lubna had sent for him as he was attempting to set a broken leg where the bone had pierced flesh. He had fixed it as well as he could but suspected the man would lose the leg. That thought had put him in a foul mood.

  “Of course I checked. Would I send for you if it was that simple? Nobody has come to claim her.”

  “Are you sure she was dead?”

  Lubna gave him a glance that said more than words, perhaps not wanting to sour the atmosphere between them any more by speaking, and Thomas realised that perhaps he was being too harsh on her. He had lost bodies in the past himself. The infirmary in Malaka was both large and busy, and sometimes he wondered how any body made its way to its family after it had stopped breathing. Thomas touched Lubna’s shoulder, but she pulled away. Not forgiven yet, then.

  He wondered if she was distracted by thoughts of the child she carried. Over six months now, beyond the time she had lost their first. They had been living in Ixbilya then for Thomas to attend the Spanish Queen. The loss had been on his mind of late, hers too, he was sure. He knew he may have been too attentive, too cosseting. Lubna was not a woman to be cosseted, even less so this last year. They had come to Malaka so she could attend the Infirmary, the place Thomas had learned his skills. That had been many years before, half a lifetime, and much had changed since. Except Malaka was still where people came to learn the skills of a physician, ever since Persia fell to the Mongol hordes.

  It had not been easy for Lubna. As a woman, she was not made welcome, only accepted in the end because she was Thomas Berrington’s wife, and everyone knew his reputation. A reputation that brought respect but little fondness. The lack of the latter didn’t concern him. Ability and an open mind meant more, and Lubna possessed both.

  “What did she die of?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “I’m curious.”

  “In that case, I don’t know. She was admitted after a fall that damaged her skull, but she was recovering. She became conscious a day ago, and we talked briefly. She told me her husband had died recently and that her name was Dionora, but not her family name. The way she spoke it seemed as if she no longer wanted to live.”

  Thomas frowned. “Such a thing is possible.”

  “Which is why I wanted you to see her. Why I came for you. I have learned much this last year, but not enough to explain what happened to her. She was getting better, I am sure of it.”

  “We’ll go to the clerk of records. The body might have been mistaken for someone else and handed over to the wrong family. It has happened before.”

  Lubna fell into step beside him. “How often?”

  “Not often, I admit, but four or five times over the years. It’s surprising how many people choose not to look at the face of a loved one after life has departed. Or perhaps not so surprising.”

  The administration offices lay close to the Infirmary, requiring the crossing of a busy street and ascent of marble steps beneath the onslaught of a fierce sun. It was as they climbed the steps that a commotion broke out behind them, and Thomas turned to see what the shouting was about.

  A tall man walked up the street with a woman’s body cradled in his arms. He was calling out at the top of his voice in bad Arabic, over and over, “Save her! Someone save her!”

  It was all Thomas needed. He ran toward the man, knowing Lubna would not be far behind.

  “What happened?” He reached out and touched the woman’s face, his eyes tracking the greyness of her flesh.

  “They threw her in the water like a piece of rubbish. I was too late.” The man lifted his gaze to Thomas, his eyes tracking him. “Can you help her?”

  Thomas reached to take the weight from the man, but he took a step back.

  “I will carry her. Show me where.”

  Thomas led the way into the Infirmary, along corridors to an empty space he had spent most of the morning in. He was glad to see someone had cleaned up since he left.

  He slapped the wooden table and waited until the man laid the woman down. Thomas put a hand on his arm and pushed him away, meeting resistance.

  “I need space to work. Stand against the wall and don’t come back until I say so.” He waited, still pushing, unsure the man would give way, then all at once the tension left his body and he turned.

  “Is she your wife?” It was Lubna asked the question, but Thomas caught the man’s nod before he began to examine the woman’s body. He took a blade and cut her robe away to reveal pale skin beneath, then turned and glared at the man when he began to come forward again. It appeared to be enough.

  Thomas pushed the woman onto her side and pressed on her chest and back. He expected water to spill from her mouth but nothing came. Then he noticed the damage done to her body. Blood stained her thighs, and her back showed cuts and bruises.

  “Who did this?”

  “They threw her in the water when they were done. Like a soiled rag. I will kill them. Kill them all.” The man spoke with a coldness Thomas was familiar with. He had experienced it often enough himself.

  “Who did?” he asked again.

  “Three men.” The man raised his eyes and met Thomas’s. “But I know their faces. They will pay for this, but first you must mend her.”

  “Where were you?”

  “A boat. I was in a boat. Too far.” A shudder ran through him. “They knew I could see them, but they still did this. I was too far a
way. They knew I was too far away.”

  Thomas sighed. Malaka was normally a safe city, but these were not normal times, and there had been more strangers recently. This war, as all wars did, attracted violent men. They frequented the inns and markets. Stood on street corners looking for other men to fight or women to abuse. They took what they wanted when they wanted it. To some people, surrender seemed an easier choice, but this man’s wife had fought back. Had she not she might have lived, unless her shame killed her.

  “I’m sorry, but I can do nothing for her.” Thomas laid his hand on the woman’s swollen belly, waiting. “How far gone is she?”

  The man glanced at where Thomas’s hand lay on his wife and shook his head. “She is close. Weeks. I told her to stay at home in Sevilla, but she insisted on coming with me. And now this. They will pay. I saw their faces. They didn’t even pretend to hide what they were doing.”

  Thomas felt a slight movement and looked toward Lubna. The man couldn’t be here for what came next, but what came next would have to be done now, the sooner the better if there was to be any chance one life could be rescued.

  He saw Lubna nod and leave the room, then began preparations. He would try to hold back from cutting until she returned with guards, but if it came to it he had already decided to knock the man senseless before he began.

  “What are you doing?” The man came to stand too close to Thomas, taller than he was, broad-shouldered, and Thomas wondered if he would be able knock him down if he needed to, and thought perhaps not. There was something familiar about him he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps they had met somewhere in Malaka, or even when he had lived in Sevilla. Perhaps somewhere else, for the man was Spanish, and Thomas had spent much time in Spain, often against his will.

  “I think I can save your child. Your wife I cannot. Surely one life is better than none.”

  “How?”

  Thomas had trouble deciding if the man was too shocked by grief to understand.

  “I’ll have to cut, there isn’t time for anything else.”

  Once more he detected movement, but it was faint, slow, and he feared he had left it too long. Lubna returned with two guards. They approached the man, who turned and faced them, his arms spread in a way Thomas was familiar with. He had seen it from those he had faced in the past. The guards had seen it before as well. They approached slowly, with care.

  The man struck at one of them, a crashing blow that sent the guard reeling backward.

  “Leave,” Thomas said to Lubna, but she stayed where she was at his side.

  He waited a moment, then cut the woman across the base of her belly and reached into the wound. He heard the man cry out, a great guttural roar. The guards had him between them now, but for how long couldn’t be predicted. Thomas worked fast. It wasn’t pretty, but it had no need to be. He found the child and eased it free, wiped the tiny body clean with a linen cloth, then cut the cord. He gripped the heels and held it up, slapped it on the back. He repeated the operation, then laid the infant beside its mother. He leaned close and blew into the open mouth, slid a finger in and cleared mucus. Laid his hand on its fragile chest and squeezed. Eventually he straightened and cursed. Too much time had passed. When he turned it was to discover the man stood alone, the guards having fled at the sight of what Thomas had done.

  The man glared at Thomas, but there was no indication of any attack about to be launched.

  “Now there are four men I must kill” He glanced to one side. “Or should I take your woman and kill her as you have killed mine? I see she carries a child too. It would be natural justice.”

  Thomas placed himself between the man and Lubna, stared up at his face. He had fought tall men before — big men, strong men — and trusted in himself. Lubna moved past him, began to press on the infant’s chest, to manipulate its limbs.

  “There was nothing anyone could do for her. Too much time has passed. If you can identify the men who did this you must report them so they can never do such a thing again.”

  “Oh, I will make sure they cannot do it again.” The man’s eyes continued to burn.

  Thomas heard a noise behind and turned. The infant moved an arm, heaved air into its frail chest as Lubna lifted it in her arms. Lubna smiled as the child opened its eyes and stared at her as if in recognition.

  Thomas stepped between her and the man. “Lubna will prepare your wife. Come for her in an hour. She will check your–” He hesitated, glanced at the small figure Lubna clutched to her chest, “–your daughter too. Give me your name and I will make sure you can take them when you come.” Another glance at the woman’s mutilated body. “You will need to find a wet-nurse.”

  “I will stay.”

  “Then stay, but we still need your name,” said Lubna. “There are rules.”

  The man didn’t look at her, continuing to stare at Thomas, anger pulsing from him in waves.

  “My name is Guerrero. Pedro Guerrero. Remember it well, both of you, remember it for when I come for you.”

  Lubna turned away as if he hadn’t spoken. She made a makeshift cot for the child then fetched a bowl of water and cloths and began to wash the woman’s body. Guerrero made no move. Neither did Thomas. He waited, watching as the anger finally began to loosen its hold on the man.

  Guerrero turned away abruptly. “An hour, though I may be longer. It depends how long it takes me to find the men who did this.”

  Thomas watched him go, then took the newborn to a bench and started to wash the tiny body, amazed as always at the miracle of birth, even one as unfortunate and bloody as this one had been.

  Two

  The clerk of records ran his finger down a list of names scribed in a thick ledger before coming to a halt. “Dionora Jinto Jiminez,” he said, looking up. Thomas and Lubna had finally managed to return to their interrupted task. “She was admitted five days ago and assigned to Lubna as her primary carer. Death was recorded this morning. I have sent a message to her family. To her son.” His finger moved to hover over a note written in the margin. He read it, frowned, and turned back several pages. “Her husband died here four weeks ago. Name of Miguel Jiminez.” He read some more. “Broken skull caused by a fall downstairs, it says here. Found by his wife, brought in by their son.” He glanced up again, said to Lubna, “Not one of yours that time.” As if it was an accusation. “Strange, both dying within weeks of each other, but it happens more often than you might think.”

  “The family haven’t taken her body, have they?” Thomas asked.

  “It would be recorded if they had.” The clerk shook his head. “What do I tell them when they come, that they are too late?”

  “Might another family have taken her in error?”

  “It should not happen.”

  “But it does sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  “It is unusual,” said the clerk of records.

  “But possible.”

  “Possible, yes.”

  Thomas turned to survey the lesser clerks who worked at scribing records of births and deaths. He raised his voice. “Who of you knows this Dionora Jinto Jiminez?”

  A hand rose. “I recorded her admittance, sir. I assigned her to Lubna, who gave her willow bark tincture and a little poppy when she grew distressed.”

  Thomas glanced at Lubna, who nodded. He tried to recall if she had spoken of the woman, but no memory came. Sometimes she would recount her day in detail, probing for information that might add to her education.

  “You remember all of that?” he said to the man.

  “I wrote Lubna’s notes into the ledger, so of course I remember.”

  Thomas was impressed. Most clerks made a habit of not committing anything to memory for fear it might fill their heads with useless information and drive out what they needed to remember.

  “And today?” he asked.

  “We have not received the physicians’ notes for today,” said the clerk of records.

  Lubna reached inside her robe, the movement drawing it tight to reveal
the swell of her belly. “Mine are here,” she said.

  “No, no, you must follow procedure.” The man shook his head as if he had been insulted. “You know to leave them with the ward clerk who gathers them together and brings them to me. Put them away.”

  Thomas let the idiocy pass for the moment. He looked away from the clerk and his men, thinking about what he knew. Had the body been misidentified and taken by someone else? Or even identified as a body lacking family, in which case it would be wrapped in linen and placed with the others that were unclaimed, to be burned at sunset. There was a place outside the city reserved for such, so the smoke and smell didn’t disturb its citizens.

  When Lubna tugged at his arm, Thomas glanced down. She made an impatient face, and he looked around to see the clerks had all returned to their duties.

  “Let’s go see what we can find out,” he said, and Lubna nodded, following as he turned away. None of the men in the room looked up as they left.

  Lubna stopped at the top of the marble steps outside the Administration building and Thomas turned back, concerned when he saw how tired she looked. She stared across the wide roadway, but he doubted she was saw anything at all. When she became aware of his attention, she offered a smile.

  “Why did you help that man? You could see as well as I his wife was already dead.”