The Fortunate Dead (Thomas Berrington Historical Mystery Book 6)

by David Penny

  Thomas turned to help Lubna but she was already on her feet, her face set with determination.

  “Move away, I haven’t finished with him yet.” She tugged at the linen strips Thomas had tied and nodded, then picked up the thin tongs she had dropped and pushed them into the wound in the soldier’s side. He screamed, but Lubna ignored the cry, as she ignored the struggling of his body. Her hand followed his movements to keep the instrument in place, then she grunted, squeezed hard, and drew out a round ball of iron. She dropped it into a bucket where it made a small splash. She turned away and crossed the crowded room to where a small brazier burned. Metal rods with wooden handles rested in glowing coals. She picked one up and returned. There was no hesitation as she thrust the iron into the wound in the soldier’s side, and this time mercy came to throw him into a faint.

  “You need to rest.” Thomas caught her arm as she started to turn. “And I should check where he hit you.”

  “I am fine,” said Lubna. She raised her gaze and stared at him. “And the baby is fine. There is too much work here. You would do better to help rather than examine a fit woman.” She moved away in search of another patient, leaving the soldier’s wound to be stitched by one of the helpers. Thomas watched for a moment, a thrill running through him. She had turned into a fine surgeon, and the softness he had feared would limit her ability was no longer present. He nodded to himself and went in search of someone he could help.

  The next time there came a moment’s respite he was surprised to discover night had fallen. Still the Spanish cannon barked, still wounded men, women, and children were brought in. Thomas went to where they arrived and took up his usual position as first man, filtering those who could be helped, turning aside those with minor injuries, ushering those who wouldn’t live to a place where they could be cared for until their time came.

  At some point Lubna brought him food and they ate standing in the courtyard, both barely awake, both knowing more work remained to be done. Lubna leaned against him and he saw how tired she was. Became aware of how tired he was. He washed his hands at a trough, kissed her, and went back to work.

  Dawn came, and with it a lessening in the numbers arriving at the Infirmary. Thomas found Lubna and had to almost drag her away.

  “You don’t have to do it all yourself,” he said, surprised when she laughed. “What?”

  “How many times have I said those same words to you?”

  He scowled. “How many times have I listened to them?”

  She held up a single finger, then folded it down to nestle between the others, and he laughed too.

  The streets were cool in the grey morning light. A group of soldiers passed, Gomeres, and Thomas searched their ranks for Usaden but didn’t see him. At the house, he allowed Lubna to wash first, then stood naked in the bedroom and tried to remove the stain of war from himself.

  When he turned toward the bed, Lubna was almost asleep, but she turned her head to him, eyes still closed. “Go fetch Will, I’ll sleep better if he’s with us.”

  He nodded. She was right. His presence would help banish the memories both of them carried from their work that night. Diego was alone in the bed he usually shared with Will, the other one unused. Will wasn’t with Olaf either, as he sometimes was, so Thomas slipped into Jorge’s room.

  Jorge grumbled and rolled to his side, but refused to wake. It was Belia who sat up, drawing the covers to hide her nakedness.

  “Did you want something?”

  “I was looking for Will.”

  “Why? Did you lose him?”

  Thomas frowned, failing to understanding. “I left him here, and he’s nowhere to be found. If he —”

  “You sent a message for him to come to you. I thought it odd, but Yusuf said you knew the woman, as did he.”

  “What woman?” Thomas moved farther into the room. He stared through the window to avoid looking at Belia, half expecting to see Will standing in the street, but it was empty. “Who are you talking about?”

  “The woman with the harem. Gracia — is that her name?”

  Thomas let his breath out, unaware he had been holding it. “You let Will go into the night alone … with a stranger? With war raging? Are you mad?”

  “I told you, he did not go on his own. That woman came, the wife of the dead man. The one who made the mistake of moving back into his house. She said you and Lubna were with her and would stay the night because her house is closer to the Infirmary. And that you wanted Will.”

  Thomas stared at Belia.

  “Will knew her and went quite happily. Diego wanted to go too, but she told him he could not. Are you sure he isn’t somewhere else in that house? Where did you and Lubna sleep?”

  “We were never there. We’ve been at the Infirmary all day and night and came directly back here.”

  Thirty-Two

  Thomas returned to their bedroom, but Lubna had already fallen into a deep sleep. He watched her for a moment, conflicted whether to wake her or not, then padded away on bare feet. Lubna didn’t need to know what had happened until he had checked for himself, though he could see no innocent reason for Gracia taking him. He dressed quickly and woke Jorge instead, knowing he would need him.

  As they made their way through almost empty streets, the bark of a lone cannon came. The crash of stone on stone followed a moment later as the corner of a house in the next street tilted, then clattered into the roadway to send up a billowing cloud of dust.

  “He will be there, and we will bring him back,” said Jorge.

  “Did nobody think to question the woman? Why would we have sent for him in the middle of the night instead of walking the extra half mile to our own house?”

  “Gracia said you wanted him with you, that you would sleep better with him at your side.”

  The explanation was so close to what Lubna had asked that Thomas saw how it might have persuaded them. But not why the two of them would have stayed at Gracia’s house instead of walking the extra half mile home.

  “What if we get there and the house is a pile of rubble? Damn al-Tagri — why doesn’t he bow to the inevitable and surrender? Things will go worse for everyone the longer he continues this foolish stubbornness.”

  A group of people crossed the roadway ahead of them, a man with his two wives and five children. He carried one of the children, injured, in his arms. They disappeared toward the Infirmary without looking either way, for which Thomas was grateful. Had they asked for help he would have had to turn them down.

  The house of Zufar al-Zaki appeared untouched, the turreted roof catching the rays of the rising sun. This is the house where everything started, Thomas thought, and a fear ran through him that it might be the place where everything came full circle with another death. He pushed the fear aside, but it came harder to him than it usually did because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Will. His chest hitched, and when Jorge turned to him, Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, his expression closed down.

  The remnant of al-Zaki’s harem were still asleep, but not for long. One glance at Thomas and the three women clustered toward Jorge, but for once he offered no better comfort and they milled together, clutching at one another.

  “It’s not you I want,” Thomas said. “Where is Gracia?”

  It took some time before any of them responded, and then the eldest was pushed forward.

  “She went out.”

  “With my son?”

  The woman frowned. “She left with a man. Is your son tall and good-looking?” She looked Thomas up and down and decided he might indeed be father to the man she had seen.

  “He has four years, almost five. Did Gracia know the man she left with?”

  A nod. “Yes. He has visited her before.”

  “What time did they go out?”

  The woman’s eyes searched a corner of the room before coming back to Thomas, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, staring at Jorge instead. “I was asleep but was woken by them arguing. I didn’t want to go downstairs,
so watched from the balcony.”

  “Arguing about what?”

  “I don’t know, they spoke Spanish. It looked like the man wanted Gracia to do something, and she was reluctant. In the end, he grabbed her arm and dragged her outside. I came downstairs when I was sure they were not coming back and looked through the window. I saw them at the end of the street.”

  “Going which way?” Thomas asked.

  “Uhm … that way?” She pointed, and Thomas had to work out the direction. It would have taken them to Diego’s house if they walked far enough. Which they obviously had. He wished he had never brought his family into Malaka but kept them all on the hillside where they could have taken their chances with the Spanish, but it was too late now and he had to deal with the consequences.

  Will had been taken, that much was clear, and he believed he knew who else was involved other than Gracia.

  “Did you hear a name? Anything?”

  The spokeswoman shook her head. “But Olivia might know.”

  The name sparked a barely remembered memory, and it came slowly to Thomas that the woman spoke of Gracia’s companion.

  “Where is she?”

  “I am here.”

  Thomas turned and saw her standing on the stairs. She wore a nightdress, one hand on the bannister. Thomas glanced at the young women still clustered around Jorge, then went to Olivia and grasped her arm. She cried out in alarm, but he dragged her up the stairs and then stopped, uncertain.

  “Where is your room?”

  “You are hurting me.”

  “And will hurt you more if you don’t answer. Your room!”

  She pointed with her free hand. Thomas pulled her inside and threw her to the bed. Olivia sprawled across the covers, eyes wide, and Thomas realised she feared he was about to rape her and took a step backwards.

  “I have been told Gracia left with a man. Did you see him? Do you know him?”

  Olivia shook her head. She was starting to regain her composure and sat up, arranging pillows behind herself and crossing her legs. “I woke when I heard your voice downstairs, but Gracia didn’t disturb me if she left. You’re sure she has gone and isn’t somewhere in the house?”

  Thomas walked from the room and went to the top of the stairs. “Jorge!”

  He waited until he appeared, one young woman still clinging to his arm.

  “Ask them if the man knocked on the door or was Gracia expecting him.” He returned to the room. “You expect me to believe you heard nothing and saw nothing?”

  She smiled.

  “But you know who the man is, don’t you.”

  Thomas didn’t know if he spoke the truth or not until he saw Olivia’s smile fade. He crossed the room, hesitated, then sat at the foot of the bed, pleased when she didn’t withdraw. Her eyes tracked his face, wary. From below the sound of the young women rose, a faint background chittering, and he knew if someone had come knocking on the door in the middle of the night it would have woken Olivia and Gracia both.

  “She didn’t mean for anyone to die,” said Olivia, and a sudden fear ran through Thomas. He noted she had said she not we. Did that mean Olivia was nothing more than an innocent bystander? Except there could be no such thing, not if she knew of what was happening. Her duty would be to tell the authorities.

  “Tell me how it started.” Thomas tried to keep his voice soft, thinking of how Jorge might do this, and thought he almost succeeded.

  “We needed money,” she said. “What Zufar gave us couldn’t feed a cat, let alone two women.”

  “What Zufar gave you? I don’t understand. I thought he refused any divorce settlement.”

  Olivia smiled, a sly gesture. “Did you think he could give her up completely? Oh, those girls look pretty, but they lack the experience of two mature women.” Once more the smile came.

  Thomas thought she might have expected some show of shock from him, but if so she wasn’t aware of what Jorge had shown him was possible between men and women, and more besides.

  “He came to you … where, in Ballix?”

  “Always in Ballix. It wasn’t as if we were whores. Not at the start. He left us small gifts. Sometimes very small gifts. As I said, not enough to live on. So really this is all his fault. Everything that happened is that man’s fault.”

  “Why did Gracia allow him into your bed? He disrespected her by not honouring the divorce settlement. She told me she hated him. I believed her then, and I still believe her now.”

  “If she had not done so we would have starved.”

  “Who instigated these assignations? Zufar or Gracia?”

  “Gracia went to him demanding money. She went without me, and when she came back she was different. I could tell something had happened. She had money but she wouldn’t tell me how she had obtained it, not until later than night when we were in bed. Zufar had demanded sex. They fought. She told me he forced her, but I was never sure if that was the truth or not. But he gave her money again, later. Not much, guilt money no doubt. A month passed before she sent him a message telling him if he wanted he could lie with us both.”

  “How often did he …”

  “Once a month, sometimes more. Whenever business took him to Ballix, or past it. Most routes east and north pass the town, and Zufar was much occupied with Guild business.” Her eyes met Thomas, a challenge in them. “What he gave us each time he came was still not enough to live on.”

  “You could have worked.”

  “Gracia was used to a life of ease. Besides, if he was willing to pay us we were happy to service him.” She smiled. “It rarely took long, not with the two of us working together. And then one day he brought a companion.”

  “The same man Gracia went with tonight?”

  “I was asleep, I told you that.”

  “Of course you were. Who was the man Zufar brought to you?”

  “His name was Woodville. Richard Woodville. A countryman of yours.” Olivia tilted her head to one side. “Are you a skilled lover? Richard was exceptionally so. Are all Englishmen as skilled? He could —”

  Thomas interrupted. “What did you tell him?” He had no wish to hear the details of what they did with Woodville. The man’s presence only confirmed what he already knew. Woodville was here to enrich himself as well as forge a marriage.

  “We didn’t know it would end as it did.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. Your secret is out now, so tell me what you told him.”

  “Zufar liked to boast. About his wealth. About the wealth of the Guild. And then, when it was clear the Spanish were coming, about the untold riches that were being gathered in the Alkhazabah and how he was going to take some portion of it for himself. He had a plan, though I never heard what it was, only that there was one.”

  Thomas stared at the headboard beside Olivia, trying to work out the connections, the significance, and failing.

  “Explain to me. Assume I’m stupid.”

  Olivia’s expression showed she didn’t doubt it.

  “Zufar brought Richard to us, introduced him. He made us a gift to the man. He thought he was being clever, but Richard talked too. He told us Zufar went to him with his plan to steal some of the Guild’s gold when it was being moved. He said it was safe, and so simple to accomplish whoever meant to move the gold was a fool. But then Zufar got a letter from his clerk.” She waved a hand. “Miguel something, he said, I have no other name. It threatened him.”

  “How do you know about the letter? Why would Zufar tell you of it?”

  “Not Zufar, Richard. He was coming to us more and more often by then, and liked to impress us with how bad he was. It was him who told us Zufar had been sent a letter and was afraid they were about to be exposed, but that he had taken care of the matter.”

  “Did he say how?”

  “No, only that they were safe now.”

  “Did he say what was in the letter?” Thomas was sure it would be the one Diego’s father had written, making accusations against Izem Amreqan, unaware his own
master was also part of the plot.

  “Richard only said the letter threatened to expose them, that is all. He said Zufar had tried to calm the situation but failed. Richard said he had taken care of things. He boasted of it without saying how, but then Zufar died and we both knew. He had killed them to keep the plot from being exposed. We were afraid, but it was too late by then, so we kept quiet so he wouldn’t kill us too. He had Izem Amreqan killed, I am sure. It was him the accusation had been made against, not Zufar, but they were all a part of it. Other than the man who wrote the letter, but he was silenced too.” She laughed, but there was no trace of humour in the sound. “Richard was pleased because everyone thought the man had died of natural causes … he hadn’t realised this Miguel had talked with his wife, so she had to be taken care of. And then, of course, Zufar knew a secret and had to be silenced as well.” She breathed out sharply and her face crumpled, as if only now realising the enormity of what they had done. When she looked up, unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “Are you going to kill me now?”

  “Kill you? Why would I kill you?”

  “Because Gracia said you are part of the plot. Two Englishman working together to steal Moorish gold.” Her gaze flickered to a side cabinet, came back fast. “She has a letter I am to send to Ali Durdush if anything happens to her. She showed it to me. It names those involved, and your name is there.”

  “Woodville has Will,” Thomas said. He walked fast beside Jorge as they made their way from al-Zaki’s house. He had explained what Olivia had told him, explained what conclusions he had drawn from the information, and now they were almost home. “They’ll have taken Will out of the city. Woodville will have made camp close to Isabel and Fernando, somewhere out there.” He waved a hand in the vague direction of the city wall. “We can find him.”