Simon Scarrow - Sword and Scimitar

‘It has gone beyond making amends, Thomas,’ she said sadly. ‘There is only living with the consequences left to us now.’

He swallowed. ‘I understand. Then I should leave you be.’

As he made to rise, Maria quickly reached across to lay a restraining hand on his arm. ‘You give in so soon? What has happened to the fearless knight I once knew?’

‘Why should I stay?’ Thomas asked bitterly. ‘There is no love in your heart for me.’

‘No?’ She leaned across and kissed him gently on the lips, and then drew back as a smile flickered across her face. ‘How can you doubt it?’

He felt a warm wave of relief and joy swell up inside his breast and his lips parted in a smile as he half rose to move closer to her. Maria’s eyes widened in alarm and she raised a hand to stop him ‘No. Stay there.’

‘But. . .’

‘Stay there, I said. I mean it. Thomas, for the sake of the love you have for me, and for the love I still bear for you, keep your distance. I beg you.’

He sat back heavily, confused and anxious. ‘Maria, you are my all. It has been a lifetime since I last held you. Please.’

She smiled sadly. ‘As you say, it has been a lifetime. Another life has been given to each of us since then. You had your life back in England, and in many campaigns across Europe, so I hear. A rich life, no doubt.’

‘An empty life, without you.’

‘But a life none the less. And I have made another for myself. Once I had forced myself to accept that I would never see you again.’ She paused and her smile faded. ‘It was two years before I was ready to live again. In all that time Oliver took care of me. Despite being a knight, he has a gentle soul, Thomas, and he is a good man. I knew he loved me, and I was fond of him . . . more than fond. So we were married. In private, of course. The Order will turn a blind eye to many things but not to everything, as you and I have discovered. I have been his wife ever since. I have even learned to be happy.’ She stared hard at Thomas. ‘And then you came back into my life, and it was like ... a storm breaking in my heart. I will not lie. My first impulse was to take you in my arms and kiss you. I would have done if I had waited for you in the chapel. Instead I had time to think. Time to consider how much I would hurt Oliver. How you and I could never be happy as we once were.’

‘Why not?’ Thomas demanded in a strained tone. Every word she had uttered had been like a stone set about his neck.

‘We are living under the shadow of a Turkish scimitar, my love. What life I have left I do not want sullied by being the cause of grief and suffering. I could not bear that. Nor could you, if you are honest with yourself.’ She looked at him pleadingly. ‘You must know that I am right.’

He shook his head. ‘It need not be that way.’

It was a lie that seared his heart even as he spoke it. That very night he would be joining the doomed men of St Elmo and he would not be coming back. There were scant hours left in which to make his peace with Maria. He should not flame their feelings into a false promise for the future. She was staring at him, waiting. He nodded slowly.

‘Thank you, Thomas.’ She eased herself closer and then reached out and took his hand. The touch of her skin set off a tremor that rippled through his body. ‘Now, let us talk. Without rancour. Without regret. There are things you should know.’

‘I know. Oliver told me about the fate of our child.’

She looked surprised. ‘Fate?’

‘That he died in infancy.’

Maria frowned and a glimmer of anger shone in her eyes. ‘He said that?’

‘Yes.’

‘He said that our son was dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘But he lives. He lives.’ She looked confused. ‘I could not raise him. I was not allowed. For the first years of his life we kept him a secret and Oliver told the Order that my child had died a few days after he was born. We passed him off as the child of one of the serving girls. Then we were betrayed. They were going to take him from me.’

‘Who?’

‘The knights. The Order was going to send the boy somewhere I would never find him. Where he would not bring shame on them. I begged Oliver not to let them. I begged him, and he promised he would find a solution.’

‘What kind of solution?’

‘He sent the boy to England to be raised by one of Oliver’s cousins. That was the last time I saw him. But I have had news of him from time to time. I am told he has grown into a fine young man. Wait here

Maria rose quickly from the seat and walked back into the house. A moment later she returned and sat down and held out her hand. Opening it, she revealed a small locket on a delicate silver chain. She opened the locket with a warm smile and stared at a miniature portrait inside. Then, still smiling, she offered it to Thomas.

‘This was sent to me when he turned sixteen. This is your son. This is our Ricardo.’

With a cold shiver of premonition Thomas took the locket and gazed down at the familiar features it contained. Younger, yes, and the wavy dark locks of hair that he had inherited from his mother were now tamed and neatly trimmed, but there was no mistaking the dark eyes and dark features of the man he had become.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

‘Dear God . . .’ Thomas muttered through gritted teeth. His mind seethed with the currents of deceit and betrayal that had caught and used him. Then he looked up at Maria and her expression changed from the injured fondness of a moment before to anxiety.

‘What is it? Thomas, tell me.’

‘Have you ever shown this to anyone else? Has Oliver seen it?’

Maria looked confused. ‘Why?’

‘I have to know. Have you ever shown this locket to Oliver?’

‘No.’

‘Is there any chance that he knows of it?’

She shook her head. ‘I do not think so. I keep it hidden from him. He is a good man, and has always been kind to me. Why should I wound his heart by reminding him of the past, of my affection for you?’

His heart was filled with fear as he closed the locket and placed it back in her hand. ‘Keep this safe and let no one see it. I have to go. Now. I will try to return later today if I can, I swear it.’

She looked dismayed. ‘What is it? What’s the matter? Thomas, tell me!’

‘I can’t. Not yet. Trust me.’ He stood up, made to leave, then turned and took her hand and pressed it to his lips, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her skin, holding it deep in his lungs before he was forced to exhale. Then he released her hand and turned away and walked swiftly towards the gate. He wrenched it open and stepped out into the street. As the gate closed behind him, Thomas had one last glimpse of Maria rising from the chair with a look of anguish etched on her face.

He strode quickly down the street and turned at the junction leading to the auberge. His mind was in turmoil over what he had just discovered and he was not paying particular attention to his surroundings. So it was that he missed the figure at the end of the street, partially hidden by shadow and standing still in the doorway of a baker, as if part of the small crowd of customers waiting their turn. For a moment the man stared after Thomas and then walked slowly towards the gate of the house.

‘I know who you are,’ Thomas said coldly as he closed the door to the cell behind him.

Richard looked up from the small desk where he had been writing. He was stripped to the waist and his skin gleamed where perspiration prickled out. He laid down his pen and casually drew an ink-stained rag across the sheet of paper to conceal several lines written in a small, neat hand.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked calmly.