by David Penny
“Where’s Will?” Thomas said, sitting up.
“Next door in bed, already asleep. He’s a happy, exhausted little boy. He has spent the entire day playing with Isabel’s children. They will all sleep until late tomorrow.
Lubna let her robe drop to the floor and poured water into a bowl. She exposed her upper body and washed beneath her arms, around her neck, her face. Thomas stared, aroused at the lustrous glow of her skin, at the soft swell of her belly. When she was clean Lubna removed the rest of her clothes and padded to the bed. She pushed Thomas back and sat across him.
“You are over-dressed, my love.”
“I take it you are feeling better.”
“Much better.” She pulled at Thomas’s shirt.
“You called her Isabel,” Thomas said, running his hands along Lubna’s flanks, smiling when her flesh stippled to his touch. They knew each other so well now. There were no secrets, but still a few surprises. He gripped Lubna’s hips and tried to lay her on her side but she fought him.
“Stay as you are, my sweet. Tonight I am in command. Speak no more of her, for I am your Queen tonight.” She kissed his eyes shut and whispered words that made no sense other than to the two of them.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time they reached the cathedral square Jorge had started to mutter under his breath again. When Thomas stopped abruptly Jorge continued on, his lips moving. Only when he noticed his audience had disappeared did he slow and turn.
“I woke you from sleep,” Thomas said, “so there’s no use complaining I interrupted some wondrous act of love.”
“As if you would recognise such a thing.”
Thomas smiled, secretly pleased when Jorge frowned at his expression. “Now is the best time for doing this, when Samuel is woken from a deep sleep.”
“And not the only one,” said Jorge. He kicked at the cobbles, staring down at his foot like a petulant twelve year old.
“No, but you are awake now so let’s get it done.” Thomas glanced at the sky but there was no sign of dawn. It was the deep of night, only an occasional lamp burning on a corner, and they had seen only one other man as they crossed the city, a priest on an errand, papers clutched in his hand, his back to them as he bustled away to the north. Thomas had fetched Jorge because he valued his insight, and now was a good time to wake a man if you wanted answers.
The guards at the palace gate were half asleep but still Thomas had to explain who Jorge was and what he was doing here. Whether his story of Jorge coming to offer a second opinion on a sick child was believed was debatable, but the guard waved them both through.
Samuel’s room was barely larger than the one Theresa had, but at least there were two windows. Thomas listened to Samuel’s breathing change almost as soon as the door opened, even though he took care to enter silently.
“Is it the Queen?” Samuel swung his long legs from the narrow bed and reached for a robe. His eyes widened as Jorge came in behind Thomas, tall and broad shouldered, for once his face showing no hint of its usual softness.
“Sit down,” Thomas said. “I have questions.”
“I wondered when you would come,” said Samuel. “Could it not have waited until a more civilised hour?” He looked between the pair before shaking his head. “No, of course not. Now is the hour, is it not? The hour men come calling with their questions.” He washed a hand across his face and shuffled to the corner of the bed, which allowed him to lean against the wall. He drew the covers up to hide his nakedness. “Ask then. I will answer if I can.”
“And if you can’t?” said Jorge.
“Then make of it what you will.” Samuel glanced toward Jorge. “Who is the big one?”
“A friend,” Thomas said.
“Yours or mine?”
“I don’t know you, do I?” said Jorge. He looked around before leaning against the wall.
Thomas stood at the foot of the bed, quickly shuffling his questions into order in his mind, but he knew there were only two of real importance, two he needed truthful answers to. He started with the less insulting.
“I cannot work out why you are involved with those two men,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “What does it gain you to be associated with such as them?”
“That might be one of the questions I am unable to answer,” said Samuel.
“That is a shame, because it is the one I most want an answer to. Neither of us will pass on anything you choose to tell us.”
“If Mandana discovers I have talked to you here, in the night, my life will be worth nothing. He has a long reach, and his men will stop at nothing. But you already know that, don’t you.”
“What if I tell you what I think they are doing? You need say nothing unless you wish, but my friend here will know what you are thinking.”
Samuel offered a brief smile. “He reads minds, does he?”
“Yes, sometimes I think he does. Al-Haquim is easy – he is trying to protect his own people. Not because of any love for them, I know the man of old and he does nothing unless it benefits him. So what he does offers him something. Position. Power. Money. Any of those three would be enough.”
“Or all three,” said Samuel, his intention to keep his silence not lasting long. “He is a man ever in need of a position. He came here hungry to create one for himself whether it existed or not.”
“Mandana’s friendship would be worth a lot to someone such as him,” Thomas said.
“What it is al-Haquim does?” said Jorge.
“Spirit suspects out of the city,” said Samuel. “Offers places to hide for those who cannot leave.”
“What places? In the city?”
“And outside,” said Samuel. “There are townships beyond the walls.”
“And those he helps leave, where do they go?” asked Jorge. “Qurtuba would be no good. Does he have friends in al-Andalus? He was Governor of Ronda, after all, so no doubt he still has connections.”
Samuel said nothing, but his eyes remained on Jorge, and that tiny smile once more touched his lips. “Your friend is good.”
“So he claims,” Thomas said. “What benefit does Mandana get from the arrangement?”
“It is not just bodies,” said Samuel, and Thomas could see the man wanted to tell him more, to unburden himself of secrets held too long. Once started it might be impossible for him to stop. Which was good. Because the most important question would come later.
“Influence,” Thomas said. “Money. Slipping people to safety in exchange for gold and property.”
“And people,” said Samuel. “Mandana brings the names of those under suspicion. Al-Haquim chooses those with money and property and offers them an escape. Once they leave Mandana has the pick of their servants and guards. He chooses the best, the most corrupt, for his own purposes.”
“Which is?”
“He has not revealed it to me, but I have my own ideas. As far as he is concerned Abraham and myself are doing work for our people, and I believe in his own mind he is trying to help his people.”
“Your people? Have you not converted?”
“I have, but my religion does not cut me off from my race. They are still my people. This is a hard time for them and will get harder still.” Samuel leaned forward, resting his arms across raised knees. “Telling you this puts me in your power. If word of what I do becomes common knowledge, reaches the ear of the Queen, I will be exiled at best, burned at worst. She is already uncertain about me. I am trusting you to keep my secret.”
Thomas offered a nod. “Tell me what you know of Mandana.”
“Abraham is a convenience to him. Their ambitions are not so far apart, but Mandana has a different end game in mind. He is trusted by the King but not the Queen. I know what he did, and I know your part in it. For taking her son she will never forgive him.”
“And Fernando has?”
“The King needs men willing to do things others would shrink from. Mandana has a black soul, despite claiming to be a man of G
od.” Samuel looked around the room until his gaze rested on Jorge, who he seemed to find less threatening. “Mandana does not agree with the Inquisition.”
“I suspect there are many who do not,” Thomas said.
“You are right. But it is the instrument of the Queen, one she believes important. I like to think she does not truly understand what is done in her name, but know she must. The stink of the fires reach even here inside the palace. Mandana believes the Inquisition chooses the wrong subjects.”
“Explain,” Thomas said.
“The Queen has a fine mind but a soft heart,” said Samuel. “She is sore angered at those who profess to have taken up her faith only to continue their old ways.”
“Unlike you.”
“Yes, unlike me. She is content to employ Jews and Arabs and Moors, as evidenced by my own position. You can change religion but not who you are, not in here.” Samuel patted his chest. “The Inquisition seeks out those who live a lie. You must know know what happens there. If a man confesses he will most times be pardoned as long as he does not stray again. If a person continues to insist on their innocence then they must be interrogated to uncover where the truth lies. If they still persist then there is but only one result, though all are offered a final chance to repent.”
“I saw you, remember,” Thomas said. “Instead of the agony of fire, do you offer them a more merciful end? And why, if they have repented, are they not released?”
“Because it is too late by then. But God is merciful, it is said, so they do not suffer the flames.”
“And Mandana?”
“I told you, he believes it wrong.”
“The burning, the Inquisition, what does he think is wrong? He can’t have changed that much since I knew him.”
“He believes it does not go far enough. He works toward the day all unbelievers are rooted out. Left to him they would all burn. The air above Spain would be black with smoke for years to come. He would see all non-believers killed. Not exiled, but killed, with him as the head of a holy army. At least the Inquisition only seeks out those who profess to a false faith.” Samuel shook his head. “The man is mad.”
“You will find no argument from me on that,” said Jorge.
“You were there too, weren’t you?” said Samuel. “When Mandana took Juan?”
Jorge nodded, a small inclination of the head.
“They talk of you both still, the servants, even the soldiers. They are impressed by little but they are impressed by you both. You recovered the Queen’s son, which is why she loves you, Thomas.” Samuel glanced at Jorge. “You too, even if you do not know it.”
“The killings are nothing to do with Mandana, are they?” Thomas said.
“The killings?”
“The bodies I was shown. You have seen them too, haven’t you? Mandana must have called on you before I came. Did he ask you to investigate as well?”
“He knows I lack your skills. All of your skills. But yes, he called me to the bodies. The first was at the turn of the year but he told me there were others before.”
“The first, you say. Yet he showed me two bodies. A pair. Were they different at the start?”
“It is impossible to know. Sometimes one body was found, sometimes two, but whether that was simply because we missed the other I don’t know. Remember, they were not displayed until recently, and it is easy in this city to dispose of a body.”
“Have there been only men?”
“Women too.”
“Pairs of women?”
Samuel shook his head. “I know of two cases where there was one man and one woman, but not two women together.”
“And the commonality between them?”
Another shake of the head. “Other than being dead I see none. Christian or Jew, male or female, good or evil, they all shared the same fate. Only the man who took them knows the reason why they were chosen.”
“Why do you think the most recent bodies have been left on display?”
“It is something new, as you know. They used to be found in secret places or, as you tell me you saw, tossed amongst the dead. This pestilence offers more than enough opportunity to dispose of a body that might otherwise prove awkward. I am sure others have been killed and hidden the same way, in plain sight.”
“And the cutting,” Thomas said. “Is it always the same?”
“I have not seen every one, but no, it is not.”
“But the same on bodies taken at the same time?”
Thomas saw Samuel consider the question, his gaze turned inward.
“Possibly. As I said, I have not seen all the bodies.”
“The marks I saw would indicate the killer has knowledge of surgical technique, is able to dissect a chest without killing the subject. Skills that are rare in the general populace.”
Samuel half rose to his knees. “Are you accusing me? Why would I do such a thing? I am trying to protect my people, not murder them.”
Thomas’s eyes tracked Samuel’s face, sure the man was hiding something. For a moment, he had seen a recognition, perhaps an acknowledgement of something he knew only now.
“You must know many of the physicians in Sevilla, I am sure. How is it you have not come to the same conclusion yourself? Can you think of anyone both skilled enough and capable of doing what you have seen?”
“Who says I have not?” Samuel offered a glance toward Jorge, back to Thomas. “But I am not you, the famous Thomas Berrington, unmasker of killers. The perfect Thomas Berrington the Queen would raise up to glory if she could.” Samuel hollowed his cheeks as if about to spit but restrained himself, and Thomas knew whatever friendship that might have sparked between them was now destroyed, if it had ever been. The man was jealous of his relationship with the Queen, but it was a relationship that still tore at his own loyalties. Some things were hard won and even harder refused.
“I will leave this place and you will not,” Thomas said. “Your position will be restored in full once I am gone.”
“And the damage will have been done. Do you have anything more to accuse me of or can I go back to sleep?”
Thomas looked toward Jorge, who offered a shake of the head.
“I may come again if something else occurs to me, and in the meantime I would ask you to think of who in this city is capable of what we have witnessed.”
Back in his rooms Thomas closed the inner doors so their conversation would not disturb Lubna or Will, knowing even hearing a hint of Jorge’s voice would wake his son in an instant.
“So?” he asked, standing at the window, watching as the first hint of dawn greyed the horizon. He knew it would come all of a sudden, a new day breaking too fast for a man who had managed little sleep.
“He told the truth about almost everything. I like the man.”
“You like everybody.”
“Not everybody, but him, yes. You know he is a friend to Belia? But she tells me it could never be anything more.”
“I leave such analysis to you,” Thomas said.
“Good, because you would be poor at it. Most of what he said was the truth, but he is lying about something. I don’t know exactly what yet, but I will.”
“When?”
“At the end.”
“Could he be the killer?”
“The lie came after you asked him that. It came when you asked who in the city was capable of the crimes. I saw something in his eyes, some note of calculation. I think…” Jorge shook his head. He strode to the window and stood beside Thomas, too close as always but it would not be Jorge if he did otherwise. Now the dawn was coming hard, a horse in full gallop.
“He thinks he knows who it is.” Thomas said.
“Yes,” said Jorge. “When you asked him for names there was someone stood out for him immediately. Why did he not tell you at once?”
“Because I know who he thought of,” Thomas said. “And so do you.”
Jorge laughed. “You overestimate my abilities to read minds.”
�
��Perhaps you do not see it because you share her bed.”
Chapter Twenty
Thomas held a muslin cloth to his eye. It contained ice chipped from a block used to cool the Queen’s chambers. Melting water dripping down his face.
“I cannot believe Jorge hit you,” said Lubna, leaning over him. “Take it away, let me see.” She peered at the damage, shook her head. “You’ll live.”
“I am so pleased.” Thomas looked across the room to where Jorge stood on the terrace, Will beside him, a small hand encased in a larger one. Thomas wondered if Jorge regretted his inability to father a child. He was so good with Will. Better than Thomas himself, he sometimes thought. Jorge had more patience, and a sense of fun that appealed to children as well as women. Thomas thought he should have prepared Jorge a little more before voicing his suspicions, but suspected the result would have been the same. After the blow was stuck he had expected Jorge to flee. Instead he had stayed, pacing the room, eyes avoiding Thomas who, when he saw Jorge was not intending to leave, went in search of the ice. On his return Jorge opened his mouth as if about to apologise but nothing came out. It was then their pacing had woken Will, and Will in turn woken Lubna. Jorge took Will to the balcony and had stayed there since, watching morning flood the gardens. Each time a peacock screamed Will laughed.
“What made him hit you?” said Lubna.
Thomas explained.
“Oh, Thomas, you are a fool sometimes,” she said when the short tale was finished. “Could you not have found some other way to satisfy your suspicion?”
“Do you not think she could have done it?” Thomas asked, his voice low for fear Jorge might overhear.
“She has the skill, certainly, but the motive? Think it through. Why would she?”
“If I knew why people were being killed it might help. You remember Eva two years ago, she was taking on the sins of evil men, she almost took Helena’s. That was a motive. This… it is a mystery to me as yet.”