by David Penny
Belia turned from the main thoroughfare into an alleyway, quieter here and shaded. Thomas followed, staring at her back until he realised he stared too hard, a flush of guilt running through him.
Lubna was awake when they arrived at Belia’s small house, but told them Jorge continued to sleep. “He has barely closed his eyes since we left Gharnatah.”
Thomas took her hand while Belia went through to the small kitchen.
“He should not have brought you, it wasn’t safe.”
“After you had abandoned me on our wedding day?” said Lubna, her voice cool. She withdrew her hand and laid it in her lap beneath a belly showing little sign of the child she carried.
“You know that was not my doing.”
“Is that so? You could have said no. You could have said you needed another day, even half a day. Half a day and we would have been man and wife.”
“As we will be.” Thomas reached again for her hand, but Lubna burrowed both between her thighs. “We can marry here.”
“In Spain? A Catholic country? Next you’ll tell me the Queen has arranged for us to wed in the Cathedral.”
Thomas looked away.
“She has, hasn’t she?”
“No. But I told her what happened,” Thomas said. “She was angry with me, but she knows I had to come. Samuel said she was recovering before I arrived, but I am not so sure. The child she carries is important to her, to Spain.”
“Who is Samuel? Another of your Catholic friends? You are becoming a good friend to Spain, Thomas. Do you forget they want every Moor expelled from this country?”
“Isabel says not, she says–”
“Isabel says not? Are you sure it is me you want to marry, Thomas Berrington? She is pretty, I hear. They say power attracts, and she is the most powerful woman in Spain.”
Thomas sat back, mouth open. He shook his head. “Listen to yourself. This isn’t you. Isabel is Queen of Spain, not just some woman. And yes I consider her a friend, and she me I think, but it is you I love.” He leaned forward. “It is you I want to marry, you I will marry. Tomorrow if you wish it, today even.”
“It is too late today.”
Thomas gave a soft laugh. “Yes, it most likely is. Tomorrow then. I am too tired to do our wedding night justice in any case.”
Lubna shook her head. “You could ask Jorge to substitute, I don’t think he ever has problems in that area.”
“No. And he should, considering what I did to him.” Thomas stared at Lubna. “You and he…”
It was Lubna’s turn to laugh, the tension between them set aside for the moment, but Thomas knew it would return. He had not treated this woman as well as she deserved. And now she carried his child. Another son? Or a girl? A girl would be welcome. A sister for Will.
“Jorge and I have slept side by side since leaving Gharnatah, even today because Belia has only one bed in her house, and we have kept her from it long enough. But Jorge loves me in a different way to you.” Lubna pulled a face that made Thomas laugh. “He does not force himself on me.”
“Force? I’m trying to recall when force has ever been required.” This time when he reached for her hand it emerged like a butterfly from a chrysalis and he took it. “It appears you are feeling a little better.”
“All I needed was sleep. And Belia’s potions. And of course the care of the best physician in the whole of Spain.”
“If he’s touched you I will kill him!”
“Oh… he has touched me,” said Lubna. “He has touched me in all my private places, but most of all he has touched me here.” She placed her free hand between her breasts. “In my heart.” A shake of the head. “Now if only the idiot would get his priorities right we might be wed before I make him a father.”
Yes, Thomas thought, there is that.
A sound came from upstairs and he glanced at the door. Lubna raised her hand from her chest to smother a giggle.
“Are they doing what I think they are?” Thomas said. “Already?”
“He is rather charming. And I think Belia likes him.”
A cry sounded, a rattling of wood against a wall.
“I should hope she does. But so soon?”
Lubna’s expression melted into seriousness and she leaned close, cupping her hand to Thomas’s face. “Who knows what calamity might strike us? Disease or violence or any number of other perils? We must all make the most of every moment of every day, should we not?” She waited for him to nod before saying, “As should we.”
Thomas smiled. “But you already said there is only one bed. Unless you intend all four of us to tumble together?”
She slapped his cheek lightly and glanced at Will, who continued to sleep in the makeshift cot fashioned from two chairs and a cushion.
“I have found us a fine house, in any case,” Thomas said. “I will take you there in the morning, or tonight if you wish.”
“Like you intend to marry me tonight or tomorrow?”
“Yes, exactly like that. You will like the house. It is even better than the one in Gharnatah. And we will marry, I promise you. Here or Gharnatah, whichever is your wish, whenever is your wish. Now, this instant, if it what you want.”
But it seemed a kiss was sufficient, and more than enough to make Thomas forget the troubles that gathered around him.
This time the guard barely glanced at Lubna when she accompanied Thomas through the gate. Light had leached from the sky to leave a faint line far to the north-west. Thomas carried Will, who had woken full of questions about the city, the people, the streets, the big building with a funny spire, the palace walls, the gate, the guard, the cobblestones, the soldiers, until Thomas said he would answer all his questions, but not now because he had something to do, and Will pulled a face but fell silent, his eyes wide as he took in the splendour of the palace. Not as splendid as that in Gharnatah, Thomas thought, but different, with tapestries on the walls, tables and chairs instead of cushions, and guards wearing the uniform of Spain.
“He thought me your whore,” said Lubna, when they arrived at Thomas’s rooms.
“Who did?” Thomas set Will down and he ran off to look through the dark window where scattered lights pricked the dark.
“The man at the gate. He thought I was a street girl you were bringing back. I saw him look away and then I saw him look again when he thought I wasn’t.” She smiled. “Will you treat me like a street girl?”
“My, you have recovered, haven’t you?”
“I have missed you, Thomas Berrington.” She came close, her arms snaking around his waist, and he enclosed her inside his. She moved softly against him, the swelling of her belly more obvious now she was so close.
“I’m not sure Will is going to sleep again so soon.” He kissed the top of her head, the scent of the journey still on her, and he wondered if Theresa could arrange for another bathtub to be brought.
“The wait will make it all the sweeter.” She twisted out of his arms and went to join Will, kneeling so she was on the same level before looking back. “Besides, didn’t you say your day was not yet finished?”
The air had taken on a chill as Thomas returned through streets only occasionally illuminated, and he drew his robe tighter, wrapped his tagelmust to cover his head. A stillness as deep as the night had settled into him, a stillness brought on by his conversation with Mandana. The man had not told him the truth, barely even a small part of it, but it had been enough. Even more importantly he had asked for Thomas’s help in tracking this Ghost that he claimed terrorised the city. Thomas had seen little evidence so far, but there were so many terrors in Sevilla he wondered how one more could make a difference. Except those overheard conversations were enough to tell him the deaths concerned the population even more than the plague.
Ahead one of the plague carts crossed the roadway, wheels creaking. The hooded man leading the mule drawing it turned his head to study Thomas then moved on. He had passed half a dozen the same as he returned, assuming their work was conducted whil
e others slept so as to keep the sight hidden.
“This is work for the Hermandos, is it not?” Thomas had said to Mandana, only the two of them in the dim courtyard, wine and food between them on a low table fashioned in Moorish style. Al-Haquim had been present but left with the boy who brought the food, his hand resting against his back.
“They have other demands made of them. The Inquisition uses them to gather their suspects.”
“Have you asked them?”
“Of course I have.” Mandana was sharp, then Thomas saw him make an effort to control himself. Only then did he recognise how much the man was asking of him, how much he was needed. “They do not care. What are a handful of bodies amongst the hundreds? People talk of this Ghost on corners and at inns, in their houses and places of work. It is why I need your help.”
“You want me to investigate?”
“As you have before. Do not pretend you are not intrigued.”
“My first duty is to the Queen,” Thomas said.
“Samuel told me she is healed, that he can perform most of the duties required now. Or do you offer her some other service I do not know of?”
“She trusts me more than Samuel. Besides, I have other responsibilities, too.”
“Your wife, your son, that pretence for a man. Yes, I know. You will refuse me?”
Thomas knew he would not, could not, refuse. Not because Mandana asked, in fact despite it being Mandana who asked, but because he had grown addicted to the process, the uncovering of layers of details until a suspect lay exposed. And, if he was honest with himself, his pride did not want someone else to take the credit. It was a weakness, but he knew he was a man of many weaknesses, and in this case it was a very small one.
Which is why as he entered the palace his mind was at rest.
Chapter Fourteen
When Thomas woke the silk of Lubna’s skin lay against his and he believed it was the first night he had slept undisturbed since arriving in Ixbilya. He rolled to his back and pushed hair from his face, stared up at the ceiling where light from the undraped window cast knife-sharp shadows.
“Pa.”
Will knelt at the foot of the bed, eyes bright, expression eager.
“What is it, my sweet?” He held a finger to his lips. “And speak soft, Ma is sleeping.”
“Ma is not sleeping,” came a muffled voice.
“Go there.” Will pointed through the window to where the ornate gardens stretched to a distant wall.
Thomas sat up. “I don’t know. I expect you can if I ask. Do you want to?”
Will nodded enthusiastically. “Birds, Pa.” He held his arms as wide as he could. “Big birds.”
Thomas had heard them, far too soon before dawn, cursing their noise. Peacocks, exotic creatures imported from the east. There were peacocks in Gharnatah and now the birds were here too. Thomas had still not decided if he approved of keeping such large birds if they were not to be eaten, but had to admit an admiration of their beauty, if not their cries.
“Let me see if I can find someone. You wait here with Ma.” He rolled from the bed, wide and comfortable, fit for a Duque, perhaps even a King, and wondered who these rooms were reserved for here in the heart of the royal palace. Thomas wrapped a sheet around himself and padded through the outer rooms to the hallway. A man stood at the far end, waiting, and Thomas beckoned him over.
“My son wants to run in the gardens. Do you know if it is allowed?”
The man stared at Thomas as if he had lost his wits. “The gardens?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It is not your place to question why.” Thomas suppressed a flare of anger. The day had started too well to be angry at fools. “If you cannot make a decision go ask someone who can. You know where I am. And I assume you know who I am.”
The man turned, hesitated, then trotted away. Thomas sighed, deciding he might as well dress and go to see how the Queen was faring this morning. When he returned to the room for his clothes Lubna was leaning over Will, tickling him, the boy’s face bright red. Hearing him Lubna turned, grinning, and Thomas felt his heart felt might stop. At one time he had lived with one of the most beautiful women in Spain, but Helena never touched his heart in the way this woman did. None had, not since another long ago, now lost to him for good, and he knew the raw love of youth was nothing compared to what he felt for Lubna.
“Can Will go?” his son asked. He had started to refer to himself this way of late as his speech grew better. Thomas wondered if it was because he spent too much time with Olaf, who often referred to himself in the third person.
“I’ve sent someone to ask.” Thomas dropped the sheet and went in search of clean clothes. Already he had grown used to the silent care that went into making his life comfortable. Dropped clothes were secretly folded or, if dirty, cleaned. He found pants and a shirt of fine linen and pulled them on. When he turned to look for shoes Lubna was staring at him, a hunger in her eyes. Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Will and I are going for a walk with the peacocks.”
Lubna pulled a face and slid back beneath the covers.
There was a knock on the outer door and Will sprinted toward it. Thomas grabbed him, swinging him through the air. “Better get dressed first, boy, this is a palace remember. You’re not at home now.” He deposited Will on the floor and helped him dress, then went to say goodbye to Lubna. She was still in bed and he knelt beside her, allowed his hand to snake beneath the cover to find her warmth.
“Stop it,” she said, “or I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“Were you responsible last night?”
“I have still not forgiven you,” she said.
“Then I would like you to not forgive me again, as soon if it can be arranged.”
“I thought you were going for a walk with Will.”
“I am.”
Lubna sat up and winced. “I’m not fully recovered yet,” she said. “I will stay here and sleep longer if it is allowed?”
Thomas felt her brow, but the fever had not returned. “It is probably the last of whatever ails you. At least we have our own privy here so you can make a dash there if need be.”
Lubna pulled a face and Thomas laughed, leaned in to kiss her brow. “Yes, sleep, it will do you good.” He rose as another knock sounded. When he went through Will had already opened the door and was staring up at the tall figure of Martin de Alarcón, his mouth open in admiration.
“The Queen?” Thomas said, fearing he had come on another errand.
“The Queen is occupied with matters of state, which we must thank you for, Thomas. No, I heard someone wanted to see the gardens. I assume it is not you?” Martin made a show of staring around, keeping his gaze raised. “But I see nobody else here.”
Will tugged at Martin’s pants’ leg.
“Ah…” He knelt. “You cannot be Thomas’s son, can you? You are far too handsome a boy.”
For a second Thomas felt a flash of doubt he had not experienced in more than a year, but pushed it away. Whoever Will’s true father was, he was Thomas’s son, there was no doubt on that, no doubt at all.
“Pa han-nom too. Ma says all time,” Will said.
“Does she? Well, in that case it must be true.” Martin hesitated. “She can see all right, can she?” He held a hand out and Will, ever trusting, slid his own inside its grasp. Martin glanced at Thomas. “Are you coming? You can return to your woman if you want, I think I can take care of this one on my own.”
“I will come. Lubna needs the rest.”
The peacocks rose into the air with squawks of protest as Will ran full tilt toward them, convinced he could capture one despite the growing evidence against.
“He’s as stubborn as someone else I know,” said Martin. “You’re a lucky man, Thomas.”
They had seen no-one else in the gardens and Will was more than able to amuse himself. Once or twice Thomas had to intervene when he saw him trying to reach a plant that was toxic. On each o
ccasion, he knelt and showed his son how to identify the plant and explained it was not to be touched. Will nodded as if he understood, and Thomas knew he would need to repeat the lesson, but already the boy could recognise a number of plants and herbs. In a few places Thomas slowed to examine the ground, wondering if he could persuade Isabel it would be a good idea to plant her own herb garden. He could ask Belia to select medicinal plants and tend it for her. The more knowledge was spread the better for the world.
“I need to ask you something,” Thomas said as Martin walked beside him.
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
Martin stopped. In the distance a peacock called out, its wings beating a pattern through the air as Will chased it.
“I want to ask about Mandana. Has he changed?”
“In what way? He lacks a hand now, but you already know that. In other ways, yes, he has changed from the man you once knew.”
“Explain it to me,” Thomas said.
Martin started to walk again. “It would help if you told me what you want to know. I have little to do with the man these days, but he has managed to worm his way back into a position of, if not power, then influence.”
“I hear he is close to Fernando.”
“As am I,” said Martin. “He is not close in the way you might think. The King has a need for a man loyal to him who lacks a conscience, a man who has soldiers who share his distorted view of the world.”