by Carrie Lofty
"What?"
"We will talk. I'm through making vows I cannot keep, vows that are not my own."
A pounding knock rattled the door on its hinges. Ada jumped from her skin. Gavriel tossed a quick look around the room, finding what she did: a shambles coated in drying wine.
He pulled the door ajar, just enough to let Blanca enter. Her eyes widened at the sight of his chamber in such a disarray, but he breathed easier with the moment's distraction from Ada, her body, and the embrace they had shared—one that had nearly felt easy. Right.
Although knowledge of Pacheco's manipulations might excuse him from his vows, he had not decided where that left him. The Order was no longer the safe haven he had imagined, which meant his future gaped like a wound. He would not permit Ada to accompany him down a dark path when he had no notion of its destination.
But the expression on Blanca's face set the issues aside.
Ada stepped clear of the mess on the floor and took the younger woman's hands. "What is it, Blanca?"
"Someone has pillaged our room," she said, her voice tremulous.
"Our room? I only left it but an hour ago."
"I returned from the gardens and found it a disaster." Her dark eyes roamed over the disorder in Gavriel's chamber. "Did the same happen to yours?"
"No, this was our fault," Gavriel said. "Have you told anyone?"
Blanca eyed them both and took note of the shattered bowl but said nothing. Gavriel appreciated her reserve. "Fernan was with me when I discovered the crime. He advised me say nothing, merely to find you both."
Icy stiffness wrapped around his arms, his legs. "Does he have an explanation as to where he was?"
"When the room would have been raided?" She lifted her chin and met his gaze directly, wrapping a light woolen shawl more tightly around her shoulders. "You suspect him, perhaps?"
Gavriel pushed a fist into his palm, squeezing until two knuckles popped. "I have no reason to exonerate him."
"You do if you believe me. He was with me in the gardens. Forgive me for saying, but he seemed a man in need of a considerate ear."
Ada touched Blanca on the forearm. "You said yourself he is not a man to be trusted. He was the one who gave me opium last night."
"That he did," Blanca said quietly. "But if you knew his reasons, you might... understand. You might even forgive him." She sniffed, loud and exaggerated. "Seems someone else has made a similar offer since."
"This was different," Ada began.
With a wave of his hand, Gavriel interrupted whatever Ada's explanation would have been. “Let us see your quarters."
Chapter 25
Ada studied the damage, having yet to recover from the terrors of her morning. Only standing within the warm circle of Gavriel's arms had calmed the dread, but then her heart had pounded for an altogether different reason.
Now she stared at the upended ruin of the chamber she shared with Blanca. Nothing remained untouched. Their cots had been overturned Straw poked out from the woolen ticking. Their washing stand lay tipped on its side. Her tortoise-shell comb lay among the ruins of straw, as did her scattered chess set
Blanca searched but found her possessions as well. "But why would anyone want to merely... rummage?"
Ada looked to Gavriel for answers, as if belonging to the Order, to that strange and confining place, qualified him to set her confusion to rights.
"And everything you had is here?" he asked. "Intact?"
"Yes, except for the scrolls."
"How do you mean?"
"They're safe, just not here. I hid them."
"Why?"
She rubbed her face and exhaled, feeling a hot blush beneath her fingers.
"Ada?"
"The scrolls are vellum parchment," she said. "I'd stolen them from my mentor, Daniel of Morley, with the intention of selling them. They can be stripped of their ink and used again, making them valuable."
His expression darkened. "You were keeping them to sell."
"For when I returned to Toledo, yes."
Her cheeks heated, looking across the distance between the respectable scholar she had been and the struggling woman she had become. Day and night. Only now she had sense enough to recognize the vast difference. Until Gavriel's intervention, the creeping sadness of who she had been and what she lost had never touched her. She had merely drowned in it.
"But that decision seems a long time ago," she said.
He held her gaze for another moment, assessing, looking deeper. "I'm glad to hear that, inglesa."
She gestured to their wreck of a room. "But what do you know of this?"
"Only that Fernan was right in suggesting Blanca keep this a secret. The rest is simple speculation. For now." He looked around as if expecting to find someone watching. And perhaps he was right The walls seemed to listen and wait for their next move, the most patient of opponents. "Where is Fernan?"
Blanca pressed her lips together. "I cannot say. My guess is that he would want to return to town."
"But why? You said something about his motives for offering Ada the poppies. Do you know what information Pacheco used to earn his cooperation?"
"I am not at liberty, senor. Understand that, please."
Ada lifted the tortoiseshell comb and squeezed its teeth into her palm. The tugging pain kept her mind from spinning too far afield. "What has Pacheco to do with this?"
"We may not have time enough to explain fully," Gavriel said.
"You wanted me to tell you what to do. Now try."
A single nod and he stood up, away from her. Arms crossed, he stared out the window as he spoke. "Pacheco vouched for me when I came to the Order. He knew some of my past and played on my eagerness to start afresh. In exchange for his support, I was to follow his instructions."
Ada frowned and broached the scant distance between them. "Instructions?"
"For cleansing myself. For becoming pure and worthy of the Order." A shuddering breath escaped his body, revealing his distress more plainly than the monotone of his voice. "He was the one who insisted on my three vows, the ones in excess of the Order's requirements. If I failed to keep them or revealed his requisites to other members of the Council, I would be expelled. He insisted everyone had secret vows, sworn tests between them and God. I believed him."
The expression on Blanca's face matched the feelings coursing through Ada's body. Confusion, yes, but also indignation. The unfairness of it all.
Ada touched his back. Beneath the robes and the tunic he wore was the skin he had so abraded and abused. "Did he do this as well?" she asked in a whisper. "He asked you to hurt yourself?"
Gavriel's head jerked down, humiliation rippling through his warrior's muscles. "I felt I had to ... to start again. To be rid of what I'd done."
She wanted to close her arms around him and touch a flaming torch to his past, their past—and to anyone who caused him pain.
"And he held Fernan to unusual expectations as well? Some knowledge of his past?" She looked to Blanca for confirmation.
"He gave you poppies under Pacheco's orders. That was all he revealed." Blanca picked up the bit of straw and pulled it in two, lengthwise. "I suspect it has to do with a woman he knows in town. I saw him with a dark-skinned woman last week when I went to market."
'Ada narrowed her eyes. "He protects her?"
"Or their connection, perhaps. Their bodies together... they were on intimate terms."
"But Gavriel, why would Pacheco want to punish you like this?"
Standing taller, he seemed to pull himself out of a well and shake free of his confession. "I know not. I never assumed he did so for his own benefit, but to aid my penance. Only this morning did Fernan reveal Pacheco's hand in providing you with opium. Ada, these scrolls—may I see them?"
"Of course. What do you suspect?"
"Blanca, do you remember the guard at the bathhouse? The one you stabbed?"
She nodded.
"Yes," he said, his eyes harder and more like himself.
More in control. "He said he wanted scrolls. I had no notion of what he meant."
"Mine?" Ada asked.
"He said he wanted 'the scrolls the Jew stole.'"
"Jacob?"
He nodded, the grim set of his mouth never changing.
Jacob had worked for Dona Valdedrona in the realm of espionage, never confiding his missions or discoveries to Ada. She had been, hurt by his reticence, but only when his visits coincided with her temperance. Other times ... well, she never would have confided in herself either.
What had he discovered? She searched her memory for reminders, clues, anything to solve the mystery of Jacob's mission before he had relinquished her to Gavriel. But all she remembered was the bitter pain of his betrayal. So enveloped by her own suffering, she had been blind to the dangers and deaf to the secrets he bore without fanfare.
Gavriel returned to Ada's room with her satchel, retrieved from a weapons cache where she had hidden it among antiquated shields the knights no longer used. He had no time to ponder the events he had shared with Ada in his chambers: her refusal of the opium, his powerful, last-minute desire to try the foul stuff, and her rescue of sorts. Until they discovered what motives and trickery lurked in the shadows of the monastery, they were in danger. But the victory she had won over her need gave him hope. If nothing else came of their acquaintance, she might yet crawl to the freedom of a new life.
Where that would leave him, standing on the edge of exile from the Order, he did not know.
Every minute they spent within the walls of the monastery scratched at his nerves. Every moment that passed without Ada at his side left him a useless wreck. And now that he knew enemies were gathering, the fact he wore no weapon had never seemed more senseless.
The women had righted their chamber, he could see no evidence of a raid. Ada had changed clothes splattered by the spilled tincture, now wearing a borrowed brown gown. The deep color warmed her complexion. She had gained weight at the monastery, barely rounding the sharp angles of her hollow cheeks, and if she continued to win her fight against the opium, that push toward health would only gain momentum.
He nodded a greeting and closed the door before handing the satchel to Ada. She rummaged through the well-worn Cordovan leather, then tipped its contents onto her cot Rolls of parchment, some sealed and some unraveling, spilled over the simple woolen mantel. Blanca sat on her cot just opposite, elbows on her knees, her expression one of a child expecting a treat.
Gavriel felt nothing so childish or innocent about his anticipation. If Ada possessed scrolls from the de Silva family, he would hear the words of ghosts. The monastery had been his refuge from sacrifice and evil deeds, from those men who had warped his life. But now they invaded what he had hoped would be his home and refuge.
Violence simmered in his body, coiled, awaiting a release.
"These are cheaper parchment filled with samples of various local dialects. Portuguese. Mozarabic," Ada said, indicating the papers that had unrolled, unsealed. She rubbed a thumb over one crest, a frown marring the smooth line of her brow. "These are the ones I took from Daniel, these with the eagle crest seal."
"That's the seal of the de Silva family." Gavriel took the scroll from her. He wanted to ruin that hated symbol. Bend it. Break it. Burn it.
She loosened the seal and unrolled the stiff, thick parchment Gavriel and Blanca moved around the bed to secure the edges while Ada leaned close. Indecipherable scribbles of ink lined the entire sheet, close enough to make Gavriel's eyes cross. Individual marks blurred. But she read it with apparent ease. One slender finger traced from right to left.
While Gavriel's ignorance kept him silent, watching, waiting, Blanca found no shame in asking questions. "I've never seen so many symbols on a single sheet," she said. "Most times a merchant will write there bits on scraps. What language is that?"
"Maghreb Arabic, from the Moorish territories." She leaned nearer and scratched at an ink smudge before beginning to translate. "It's addressed to Muhammad an-Nasir."
"The young Almohad caliph," said Gavriel. "His father was their leader at Alarcos but died two years ago. Control fell to an-Nasir, his son."
"Seems Lord de Silva is none too pleased with how he has led his people. 'The time to strike is at hand, with summer and the end of the trace.'" She sat away from the scroll and rubbed her eyes. "What truce?"
Gavriel sat heavily on the floor, his back to the parchment containing his father's words. "After the bloody year following Alarcos, a truce was declared between the Christian kings and the Almohads. This summer marks the end of that five-year peace. Without it, the Almohads will be free to resume their invasion."
"But the motivation is not theirs. It comes from de Silva. This says, Matters in Africa have diverted your attention away from the Peninsula.'"
Blanca shook her head. "A Leonese nobleman conspires with the Moors? Is this how politics work?"
"It shouldn't be," Gavriel said. "A long-standing feud between my father and King Alfonso meant he sided with the Moors at Alarcos."
Ada had opened the second scroll. Silent, her eyes danced over the text until a single gasp echoed across the tiny chamber. Gavriel rose from the floor and knelt beside her, seeing nothing more from this parchment than from the last. He resented the language he could not understand, even as he admired her singular knowledge.
"What is it?" he asked.
"What if Lord de Silva wasn't the only one who sided with the Moors?"
"Who?"
"King Ferdinand of Leon."
His mouth went dry. "It's possible. More than possible."
Blanca shook her head. "The kings of Leon and Castile are cousins. First cousins. And they are both Christian, charged by the Pope to defend the Peninsula against the Moors. Everyone on the frontier knows that"
"But the blood between the two halves of the royal family, Leonese and Castilian, is very bad," he said.
"Here." Ada pointed at the line of address. "This one is also written by de Silva, but to Ferdinand. It reads, 'Next time, when the moment comes to crush the Castilian opposition, you will do more than drag your feet' What does that mean?"
Gavriel sat back on his heels, eyeing that parchment as if it flashed venomous fangs. "Ferdinand was to reinforce his cousin's troops on the battlefield at Alarcos, but he strayed in Leon. His delay helped the Almohad armies gather momentum. We had the battle in hand, entirely and decisively, before the Leonese arrived."
"Then he was purposefully late?"
"Impossible to know for certain," Gavriel said. "But it seems Lord de Silva wants Ferdinand to take a more active role against the Castilians this time, not leaving the dirty work to the Almohads. A show of faith in their conspiracy."
Blanca touched the dried ink. "Can he write such things to a king?"
"Perhaps that explains the trouble we've had," Ada said. "Not La Senora or my debts, but men sent by de Silva to retrieve these missives."
She continued to read, her eyes dashing along every line.
"Anything else?" he asked.
She shook her head and rolled the parchment, shoving the scrolls back into her satchel. "Jacob or his men must have intercepted them. You said he was returning to Segovia, yes?"
Gavriel stared at her, suddenly certain that she hid something from him. The idea of her deception—more lies from Ada— stuck in his gut "He was to speak with Dona Valdedrona, and possibly to Alfonso."
"He works for Her Excellency to collect information. Maybe he left them to Daniel for safe-keeping while she was away at Alarcos."
Blanca smiled wide. "He's a spy? Is he truly?"
"It's been quite some time since I held such enthusiasm for his profession. Mostly it meant long absences and secrets." A blush tinted her cheeks and she ducked her gaze. "I could abide neither."
"He would have been in great danger carrying these scrolls with him," Gavriel said. "As we learned for ourselves."
"Unwittingly. He'll be very disappointed in me."
Her o
vercast face had him wondering again, with more intensity, as to the nature of her relationship with Jacob. Young, English, educated, devoted—Gavriel could not begin to duplicate their connection. But he touched her shoulder nonetheless, as if touch could banish the doubts and barriers.
"You're not the same woman he left in my care."
Her lips turned up in a wobbling smile. "Is that good or bad?"
"Depends on what he wants from you," he said, recalling Ada's description of how Jacob provided her with opium, how he doted on her. "As for the scrolls, we'll keep them safe and let King Alfonso decide what to do with my despicable family. And his treacherous Leonese cousin."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Dress for travel, both of you," he said, standing. "We should not stay here to be discovered."
Ada began to collect possessions for her satchel. Blanca nodded, seemingly childlike, but the expression on her face was one of resolve. "Since you've beaten Fernan, they'll watch you. All of us."
Fernan. The man was a boil, a terrible wretch of a human being. After what he had done to poison Ada, he deserved better acquaintance with Gavriel's fists. But those cryptic comments about Pacheco had splintered under Gavriel's skin, prickling into every decision he tried to make. None of his former certainty and purpose remained. Fernan seemed the only person who might be able to answer his questions. Whether Gavriel could believe the replies remained a mystery. "Find Fernan," he said to Blanca. "Please. For once in his miserable career as a novice, he'll attend Mass. Tonight"
Chapter 26
That Brother Telles stood ready to conduct Mass in the fortress cathedral meant Grand Master Rodriguez was still absent. The Trecenezago had yet to meet. Los caballeros would wait until given the command to seize him by force, ready to stand accused for Fernan's beating.
As villagers streamed into the cathedral for midnight Mass, Gavriel looked for Ada. If all went smoothly, they would be clear of the village, clear of the threat by dawn. Beyond that...