The Inquisitor (Thomas Berrington Historical Mystery Book 5)

by David Penny

  And that evidence pointed to the certainty Ramon had followed them to Qurtuba. Thomas wondered if one of those dust plumes he observed had been raised by the man’s horse. Staying at a distance, watching them as he had been watched in turn.

  Which meant any business he had in Sevilla was abandoned, or Sevilla had not been where his business lay. The thought raised a curl of anxiety within Thomas.

  He thanked the priest and returned to the small chapel. Theresa had brought soldiers and they were carrying the bodies away.

  “Dress them first,” Thomas ordered.

  “With what?”

  Thomas glanced at Theresa. “Anything You can surely find something. They have been violated enough, I will not see them violated further.”

  The soldiers slunk off with Theresa. Thomas took the time before they returned to examine the bodies one more time. The location of the wounds had changed from those he had seen before, which meant Ramon still sought the location of the soul. How long would he continue the search if left at large? Forever, because he would never discover what he sought. Or would he? Thomas made a promise to talk with Talavera again, to ask if he believed the human soul was a physical object, with a physical location. He was sure the man had said not, but there had been discussions between the two of them. What had Ramon said during those conversations?

  Thomas went to the side door and breathed deep of the misted air. A few early risers passed by. They ignored him, but he examined each of their faces, searching for the one he sought, knowing it would not be there. Ramon must know by now Thomas had discovered the bodies. Likely he might even be hidden, watching his handiwork being discovered. Thomas was sure that was how it would be, the man wanting to see the results of his endeavours. Then he would slink away to hide and choose his next victims. A matching pair. One Christian, one not. This time they were both female, and that fact triggered a connection in Thomas’s mind. Ramon sought the human soul, which must be assumed to be present in both male and female. But did he believe the soul resided in Christians only? Or both Christian and heathen alike? What was it he searched for, what difference? And if it was a difference why not take a single victim only, not two? Thomas was missing something – the significance of two bodies. They meant something to Ramon, but what? And the logic, if he sought the soul, raised a new notion, that the soul of the highest power in the land might be the strongest soul of all. One more easily identified.

  Thomas walked fast across the steep roadway to a small paved area and crossed it, the palace coming into view, tendrils of mist curling around its facade. As he approached a man waiting at the door turned and saw him at the same moment Thomas recognised the man. Friar Ramon Braso, dressed in ordinary clothing, which is why Thomas had ignored him at first. He called out and began to run.

  Ramon turned and sprinted toward the river, and Thomas grinned. To cross it Ramon would have to double back to the bridge or flee west along the bank, and Thomas saw he was already gaining. But instead of doing either of these Ramon simply threw himself into the rapids. Thomas reached the bank and skidded to a halt.

  Ramon’s head appeared, sank again as the fast water carried him toward the thrashing boards of a waterwheel. Ramon tried to look back to see if he had been followed, but there was no time, the boards almost on him, and he sank beneath the water once again.

  Thomas moved along the river bank, running until he was downriver of the waterwheel. He scanned the churning surface, looking for a sign, but none showed. He moved upriver, staring at the boards of the waterwheel as they emerged from a thrashing spume, expecting to see Ramon’s broken body delivered up, but in that he was disappointed. Where was the man? Should he fetch guards and have them search the riverbank? Was there any point? And how far would they need to go? The water here was fast. If Ramon had escaped with his life he might be half a mile downstream by now. Thomas turned away, frustrated, and made his way back to the palace.

  “That man who was here, what did he want?”

  Thomas saw the guard knew at once who he meant. “Didn’t like the look of him. Wouldn’t show his face, but someone had given him a sound beating. His eyes were all that showed, and they were black.”

  “Yes, they would be. What did he want?”

  “He had a message for the Queen, but I wouldn’t take it, not at first. I wasn’t going to leave my post, not with the likes of him about.” The guard looked Thomas up and down, unsure of what he saw but a hint of recognition must have come. “Do you know who he was, sir?”

  “I do. What happened to the letter?”

  “When I wouldn’t take it he lost his temper. Tried to force his way past me. Me! I don’t let anyone pass me.”

  “Good man. The note?”

  The guard shook his head. “I told you, I wouldn’t take it. The Queen has many petitioners, but they must go through the right channels, not come calling to the gate at dawn.”

  Thomas clapped the man on the shoulder, for a moment making him flinch. “Which way did he go when he left you?”

  “That way.” A raised hand. “Around the side of the palace toward the river. He’ll be across the bridge by now, long gone.”

  “Gone, anyway,” Thomas said. He thanked the guard and walked slowly along the path Ramon would have taken, head down, eyes searching. It was likely he had taken the note with him to his death, but Thomas had learned never to make assumptions based on what he believed to be true. He had been wrong too many times in the past. As he was this time.

  The letter fluttered in a grating, a rising breeze holding it there, but not so strong as to press it through the metal rails. Ramon must have fled with it clutched in his hand and lost hold of it in his haste. Thomas went to one knee and retrieved it, broke the seal, which was no more than an unmarked daub of white wax from a tallow candle.

  The writing inside has been made rapidly, scrawled letters almost falling off the page, but their message was clear enough.

  Your grace, forgive me for contacting you in such a way, but I have grave news of a danger to yourself. The man known as Samuel Ibrahim has been conducting wicked experiments on your subjects and I fear he plans to make you his next victim. Meet me at the cathedral entrance in an hour and I will provide clear proof.

  There was no signature, and in places the ink had been smeared, almost making some words indecipherable. But there was no need for every one to be clear. This was the work of a madman even to think it would be taken seriously. A madman who was now almost certainly dead.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “I don’t understand,” said Isabel, when she eventually returned from the Cathedral, her devotions taking precedence over everything else. At least she had allowed Thomas the comfort of taking extra guards as she walked the short distance. Until a body was found he would remain alert. Men had been sent along the river bank to look for Ramon. They had been gone two hours without sending any message, which he considered a bad sign.

  Isabel and Fernando sat at a table, platters of fruit, cheeses and meat laid out. The children were somewhere close but had been despatched when Thomas said he needed to discuss a serious matter.

  “I believe Ramon truly thought you would respond to his request.” Thomas sat when Isabel waved a hand in invitation, adjusting his thoughts to accommodate what appeared to be one of their informal meetings.

  “He must be dead,” said Fernando around a mouthful of pigeon, its juices staining his beard. “We need worry about him no more.”

  “I won’t believe it until I see his body with my own eyes,” Thomas said. “He is strong and insane, a combination that keeps men alive who should not be. I am more interested in why he wants Isabel.” Thomas watched carefully to ensure he had read the signals right and the use of the Queen’s name was allowed.

  “Does he intend to plead for mercy?” Isabel laughed, a pretty sound. Her fingers hovered over the plates before selecting a fig. She examined it, returned the fruit and selected something else. “He must know there is no mercy after
what he has done. Unless he is even more mad than you say and truly thinks I might believe his wild claims about Samuel. Eat, Thomas, there is more than enough for three.”

  Indeed there was. Enough for six, and he was ravenous. He tore a piece from a shank of lamb and tried not to wolf it down too fast.

  “We should send for Samuel and see what he has to say about the accusation. Ramon is mad enough, it’s true, but this is too simple a ruse unless his mind has descended into an even deeper lunacy. But a kernel of logic remains. He is searching for the physical location of the human soul, and I believe it likely Samuel knows something of where his obsession came from.”

  Isabel waved a hand. “Yes, you might need to question Samuel, I agree, but we do not want him with us here spoiling our meal. Find him later if you must. I spoke with Talavera on the matter. He said you had also discussed it with him. He is of a mind the soul cannot be found in one place. It is of the spirit, not the flesh, and departs on death to rise to heaven or sink to hell. This Ramon was a friend to him at one time, was he not? Why would he not share the same belief?”

  “Do all Christians share a common orthodoxy?” Thomas said. “And this matter is not one that can be decided by the reading of a passage of the Bible.”

  “You know your Bible so well, do you, Thomas?” A smile from Isabel.

  “As a child I could have quoted any passage.” Ignoring the fact he was no longer a child and had not so much as glanced at the book in over thirty years. He recalled the struggle to learn the Latin words in the heavy book that sat on a lectern in Lemster Priory, the book that Brother Bernard had insisted he study in exchange for other knowledge, access to knowledge of more interest to Thomas than the words of a God even then he was starting to lose faith in. A God that had abandoned him when he was accused of murder.

  “Talavera is my spiritual advisor,” said Isabel. “Which is why I seek his advice in matters he is better suited to know about. His beliefs are based on what is written by God’s hand. There is no other truth than what is writ there, as we all of us know.”

  “And Talavera claims there is no physical soul in the body,” Thomas said, which was also his true opinion, but he felt no need to mention he did not believe in any soul at all. “But what matters most is what Ramon believes. He is convinced the soul is an object he can uncover. Talavera told me Ramon looks on him as a father. That they would sit at night by a fire and discuss matters of theology, including that of the soul.” Thomas stared into space for a moment before glancing at Isabel. “Talavera may not be telling you everything, have you considered that? If Ramon looks on him as a father I am sure Talavera looks on Ramon as a son. Can a father betray the trust of his son, even when he knows he is misguided?”

  “This is more than misguided, Thomas. And Talavera would not keep such a secret from me, his Queen.”

  “If you are sure.” Thomas knew he could force the matter only so far, his relationship with this woman one of shifting tides and sands, never knowing from one moment to the next how she would react, how much leeway he was allowed. “I will find Samuel and talk to him. He studied in Malaka alongside Samuel and may know of something there that formed the kernel for his obsession?”

  “I have not seen Samuel since we left Sevilla,” said Fernando. “Are you sure he accompanied us?”

  “He is with our party, yes, but has had no call to deal with Isabel. But you will see enough of him once the child is born and I leave.” Thomas did not want to say that Samuel was deliberately ignoring him.

  He saw Isabel open her mouth to speak, then saw too the effort of will she made to remain silent. It was an argument they would have at a later time, he knew, one that would come as sure as night followed day.

  “Then ask him,” said Fernando. “If Ramon showed signs then Samuel would have seen them. I do not know him well, but have been told he is a skilled physician, and not a stupid man.”

  “Neither is Ramon. I worry he has evaded us and is still intent on harming the Queen.”

  “You work too hard and worry too much, Thomas,” said Isabel. “I have soldiers around me constantly. The man will not be allowed near even if he does live.”

  “He does not want to come to you, Isabel, he wants you to go to him.”

  “Then he is a fool. How could he possibly think I would do such a thing?” She wiped her hands in a damp linen cloth and laid it on the table.

  “Why not me?” said Fernando, almost sulky. “Am I not also God’s representative on earth?”

  “Do you claim the greater devotion?” Thomas said. “I do not doubt your belief, but the entire population looks to the Queen for religious example.”

  “Who would he take alongside me?” asked Isabel, leaning forward, her fingertips together.

  “A non-believer, no doubt, as he has in the past. He needs two subjects to prove only true Christians possess a soul. I believe he always starts with the one he considers a believer in the hope he will discover the seat of the soul. The other victim is then only for confirmation. He would search and find nothing.”

  Isabel steepled her fingers, staring at Thomas over the tips of them. “I spoke long with Talavera in search of the truth, but as in so much about our Lord truth is often in the individual’s mind and faith. Perhaps if a man truly believes enough that the human soul is a physical object then, for him, it will be. Others they will never see it.”

  “And you, Isabel, what do you believe?” Thomas leaned forward in unconscious mirroring of her, Fernando forgotten. It might have been only the two of them in the room.

  “I believe we can never know. God’s mystery will always remain that, a mystery to us all, to me, to Talavera, even to you, Thomas, who seems able to out tease the truth of a matter where no-one else can.” She smiled. “Perhaps he intends you as his second victim.” Her lips held a smile but her eyes were sharp as they continued to examine him, and he wondered how much he might have revealed of his true self to this woman who also saw through every subterfuge.

  “He would not take Thomas,” said Fernando, breaking the spell between the two of them. “Why would he? There are a thousand in this city he would take first.”

  Isabel sat up, smoothing her dress as if it had been creased. “If Ramon is not dead we will discuss this further, but I do not believe he lives. The river has taken him and will deliver his bones to the sea.” She winced and sighed. “I am tired, Thomas, even though I have only recently come from my bedchamber. Talk with Fernando, make plans if you must, for men love to plan. Let me know when they find the man dead. We have only two more days in Cordoba and then we travel north.”

  By noon soldiers were returning without finding any sign of Ramon. Thomas wanted to walk the banks of the Guadalquivir himself to make sure, but made himself resist the call. He had to trust others to carry out their jobs with skill. He could not do everything himself.

  Thomas went in search of Samuel, sure he must have noticed some sign in Ramon when they were in Malaka, for they had been closer than brothers for a time. He failed to find him but did come across Theresa holding one of Isabel’s heavily braided dresses against her breast. She looked up at the sound of Thomas’s approach, but instead of showing surprise or guilt she smiled as if between conspirators.

  “You are making a habit of stealing the Queen’s dresses, it seems,” Thomas said.

  “Not stealing, borrowing. Not even that. You could regard it as keeping them supple.” She held the dress out to him. “Here, feel the material, it is stiff with disuse. It needs the warmth of a body to loosen the cloth. Perhaps you can help dress me in her robes, Thomas? I would need to be naked first, of course.” Theresa smiled. “Then I can come to you dressed as the Queen. If I come to your room you would not refuse me then, would you? We can pretend I am she. You would enjoy that, would you not, even if you are married to Lubna now? It would be such a grand game.”

  Thomas shook his head. “Put it away.”

  “I will do anything you ask, Thomas, you know that.”


  “Stop it,” he said.

  “Only one thing can make me stop, and you know what that is. You should give in. You will enjoy the experience, I promise.”

  Another shake of his head. “Have you not been to your husband? You should take your frustrations out on him, not me.”

  “He is old,” said Theresa.

  “So am I.”

  “Not as old. And you are not old here.” She tapped his brow. “Or–” But Thomas caught her hand as it descended and turned away, leaving Theresa to her dreams.

  Fernando was in the gardens practicing his sword craft with two of his men, the clash of blades sharp, light splintering from metal. Thomas stood and watched for a while, relieved to be distracted from his thoughts. There was still no sign of Ramon, and he was coming to the conclusion the man must have survived his trip down the river. How was a miracle, but miracles happened even to evil men, it seemed. If he still lived it was only a matter of waiting for a new approach from him. Thomas was convinced he was right. The next target would be Isabel. There was no other way Ramon could prove his theories other than cutting into the highest power in the land. He would see the death of his Queen as a price worth paying for the knowledge it provided.

  Fernando paused to catch his breath and saw Thomas, beckoned him over.

  “Should we spar again, Thomas, like we did before?”

  “When you beat me, your grace?” Formality restored in front of the soldiers.

  “As I recall it was a draw.”

  “Only because you took mercy on me.”

  Fernando laughed. “What about these men, then? They are too scared of hurting me to try hard, but I am sure they would love to kill you.”

  “You make it sound most appealing, your grace.”

  “Come on, amuse me, show me how good you really are, Thomas Berrington.” Fernando glanced at the two men. “You will try to kill him?”

  “If you ask it, your grace.”