The message of blood, p.12
The Message of Blood, page 12
As he made his way toward Lawrence’s house to see if he had discovered any new information, Thomas wondered how Miguel managed to keep his job. He found both men sitting at Lawrence’s table beneath the orange tree, papers spread in front of them. They greeted Thomas and Lawrence called for another chair, which Laurita brought. Thomas watched her return to the house, wondering if she ever made her own choices, or if she even wanted to. He believed he knew the answer.
Thomas sat in the third chair and leaned closer to look at the papers.
“Here, read them if you want.” Lawrence pushed the documents around with his fingers. “For all the good they will do. There is too much information, and I have no idea whether any of it is relevant or not.”
Thomas scanned two or three sheets, some of the names familiar, most not. He glanced at Miguel.
“Have you discussed these papers?”
“I know less than half the people shown, but like Lawrence, I see some connections.”
Lawrence shuffled the pages, picked one up. “Here is a record of a marriage between Rodrigo Lonzal and Castellana Baltieri dated the year of Our Lord 1454. They were married in Valencia, but it seems they moved to Córdoba within a year or two.”
“And its significance is?” asked Thomas.
“Lonzal changed his name,” said Lawrence. “He is now Rodrigo de Borja, the man rumoured to be the next Holy Father. Castellana Baltieri is of course Castellana Lonzal. She has kept his name all these years.”
“Are they still married in the eyes of the law?”
Lawrence raised a shoulder. “Who knows? I haven’t found all the documents yet, but what I can tell you is that Castellana Lonzal and her son were two of Cortez’s best clients for more than fifteen years.”
“Is that why he was killed?”
Lawrence shrugged again. “You tell me. Castellana Lonzal is an influential landowner in the area, and friend to both Isabel and Fernando. More than a friend to Fernando, as he admitted to you, not that it is a secret from anyone. Castellana will have enemies.”
“It is nothing but rumour,” said Miguel. “People are always jealous of those with connections.”
“Fernando admitted it to me.” Thomas glanced at Miguel. “I went to see the baker woman again today. She told me of two men who were outside Cortez’s house the day before the fire, together with four others. The two were there again two days later. You might like to make enquiries and see if you can find anything out about them.”
Miguel offered a nod.
“Rodrigo de Borja is staying at the palace,” said Lawrence. “You must have seen him, he is not a man easily overlooked.”
“Once, briefly. He was…” Thomas stopped, gathering his thoughts, making links and discarding them. “He was with Isabel and this Castellana Lonzal. Also…”
“Who else?” Lawrence’s eyes were sharp on Thomas. “It might be significant.”
“Theresa was there, as well as another woman. I didn’t know her name at the time, but discovered it later. Her name is Eleanor, Countess d’Arreau, the woman I asked you to search for this morning. When I told you she was once my lover.” Thomas glanced between the two men, made a decision, changed it, then changed it again. “She was once my lover.”
“And still is, you said. Is it a pleasure you will be repeating?”
“You know as much as I do about that.”
The humour drained from Lawrence. “You are mixing in powerful company. Be careful. This de Borja gives every appearance of being a benign presence, but benign men do not rise to the position he has. I hear he has come to petition the support of Isabel and Fernando when the time comes.”
“What time?”
“When the current Pope dies, of course. Isabel would like to see a Spaniard as Holy Father. It is said de Borja was influential in having their marriage approved. Did you know she and Fernando are first cousins?”
“I didn’t. Is it significant?”
“I doubt it, only interesting.” Lawrence leaned closer. “Be careful of this de Borja. He is dangerous. The word is that men have died around him in mysterious circumstances.”
“Do you think he might have wanted Cortez dead?”
“It is possible. If all Cortez’s work had been destroyed, nobody would ever know of his marriage to Castellana Lonzal. But I doubt de Borja would get involved in anything so blatant or dangerous. Not that it would stop him setting someone else the task.”
“Are we any further forward? It doesn’t feel like it to me. If anything we are worse off.”
Lawrence reached for another slip of paper. “There is also this. Their marriage contract gave reference to another document so I went in search of it, though it took some time. I suspect a copy of this was also held in Cortez’s cellar.” He handed the second sheet across.
The document was written in Spanish, and two names leapt out at Thomas. The name of the child was Jorge Lonzal, and the mother shown as Castellana Baltieri. Thomas peered at the words, and a date written in the manner of the Romans. It took him a moment to calculate a number he understood. It was dated the 13th of May 1453, and also gave a place of birth: Valencia.
Thomas gave a laugh. “Is this genuine?”
Lawrence offered a nod.
“Jorge claims he has no idea what his birth date is,” Thomas said. “Now I can tell him. The year sounds right, but surely Valencia is a mistake?” He kept hold of the slip of paper as he looked at Lawrence. “Has someone mixed up two of the documents you have here?”
“The documents do not lie. Do you see the notation in the bottom corner?”
Thomas glanced down, nodded.
“It relates to this.” He handed another sheet across. “Jorge has a brother, legitimate this time. His name is Gabriel. Gabriel Lonzal, and he lives with his mother on their estate in El Carpio.”
Thomas realised Lawrence had uncovered the information Jorge had paid money to a dead man for. The name of his mother. It had to be her, who else could it be? And if Castellana Lonzal was his mother, did that make Rodrigo de Borja his father? Except her name had been noted as Baltieri, not Lonzal. Did that mean Jorge was born before they married? Was that the reason he had been given up? There were too many loose threads, and Thomas wanted time to tease at them before saying anything, but he knew Lawrence would have made the connections too.
“Gabriel Lonzal is a troublemaker,” said Miguel, unaware of the tumult of thoughts in Thomas’s head. “A man of privilege who believes it places him above the law. I have come across him before, but he is too well-connected to arrest or even give a slapping to.”
Thomas set the records of birth on the table. He picked up a cup of wine and drained it.
“Is there anything else?”
“Are you wondering about a divorce?”
Thomas nodded. “That, and any mention of who Jorge’s father is.”
“He is a bastard more than likely,” said Lawrence. “No worse for that, but not acknowledged by his father. If Castellana even knew who his father was.”
“Why would she not?”
“She was, as near as I can work out, barely fifteen years of age when Jorge was born, which means she must have conceived him when she was fourteen.”
“You know as well as I do girls of fourteen get married. They have children, too.”
“Of course. Except because no father is shown, it more than likely indicates Jorge is illegitimate. Like I said, it’s not his fault, but not everyone will be as understanding as you or I.” He glanced away from Thomas. “What about you, Miguel? What is your opinion of bastards?”
Miguel said nothing.
“Could de Borja be Jorge’s father?” Thomas said. “Oh, but he would love it if I told him his father might be the next Pope.”
“I would say not,” said Lawrence. “Their marriage is recorded for all to see. Their son Gabriel is recorded for all to see. It would be no matter to add de Borja’s name as Jorge’s father, no matter at all. So I would say it is unlikely.” Lawrence stared at Thomas, waiting.
“Is any of this connected to what is happening to Jorge?”
“Could be. Could be not. That is your job, Thomas. Yours and Miguel’s. I just deal in paper. You need to make the connections, talk to people. Accuse them if you want. Though perhaps not de Borja. I hear he is leaving soon in any case.”
It seemed to Thomas that the coming of de Borja so recently before Jorge was arrested, and his leaving shortly after, might hold some significance … if only he could see what it was.
“Everyone believed Jorge dead. His mother, this Castellana Lonzal, must have given him away to the Olmos family when he was barely a few months old.” He looked up from the papers he still held in his hand. “No reply from Beatriz?”
“Not yet, but there is a good wind from the south today to speed a bird on its way.”
“Then let us hope it arrives tomorrow. I need to know how Jorge came to be part of the family he thought was his.” Thomas shook his head. “If it is even relevant. He is a palace eunuch, for God’s sake. He lives among the Moors. He is my friend and known as a friend to Isabel and Fernando. Jorge is not dangerous and has no enemies.”
“All men have enemies, even someone as loved as Jorge. You need to find out who they are.”
“I should talk to his mother, his brother too, this Gabriel.” He met Lawrence’s eyes. “Why give one son away and not the other?”
“I told you, because he was born out of wedlock, which makes me sure he is not de Borja’s. Jorge is their weakness. They gave him up to a family they were sure would kill him, or sell him as a slave to some rich man with dark perversions. He would disappear into the cesspit of Córdoba and never be heard of again. He was meant to die.”
“Why?” Thomas raised his voice. “Why one son and not the other?”
“There are many reasons, but I suspect it is because of whoever Jorge’s father is. Either he is someone of immense importance who didn’t want his seduction of a young girl known about, or Castellana was raped and wanted rid of the evidence.”
“He was a baby. Why not simply kill him? Leave him on a hillside for the wolves or bears? It happens, you know it does.”
“But not in this case. You tell me the people Jorge thought his parents were awful. Perhaps being given to them was an even worse punishment than being eaten alive by wolves.”
“Which would mean she hated the child,” Thomas said.
“It would.” Lawrence searched through the papers on the table, pulled another free and held it out to Thomas. “This is where you will find Castellana Lonzal’s house in El Carpio. She has an estate beyond the city where she grows olives, fruit, whatever turns a profit. And turn a profit she does. She is one of the wealthiest women in the region. A strong woman by all accounts, so you need to be careful.”
“And her son?” Thomas asked. “Her other son, this Gabriel?”
“I told you, he is trouble,” said Miguel. “When you decide to visit her, come for me first and we will go together.”
Thomas didn’t bother looking at the paper Lawrence had handed him. “I know where Castellana Lonzal lives in Qurtuba. I have been in the house. It is where Eleanor is staying.”
“What is a Countess of France doing in Córdoba?” asked Lawrence.
“That I do not know. Strangely enough, neither of us raised the subject.” Thomas frowned. “If Castellana Lonzal gave up Jorge in Qurtuba, why did she then come to live here fifteen years ago? Do you think she was looking for him?”
“Again,” said Lawrence, “that is your job to find out.”
“And if she was, why? To save him, or destroy him?”
Lawrence said nothing. Miguel shifted on his chair as if impatient to leave. When Laurita came out carrying a tray holding bread, cheese and fruit, Thomas made his excuses and rose.
As he walked toward the palace, he barely noticed his surroundings. His mind was somewhere else, chasing down possibilities, but by the time he entered the ornate gates, he was no further forward.
Chapter Fifteen
“Where have you been? She wants you.” Theresa was waiting for Thomas when he entered his rooms. She tugged at his sleeve. “Come, now, before she loses patience. She wants you to eat with them.”
“Them?” Thomas glanced down at himself. “I should change.”
“There is no time, you will have to go as you are. She asked for you earlier, but you could not be found. She may never talk to you again if you let her down.” She pulled at his arm once again and Thomas allowed himself to be led into the corridor.
“Who else is with her?”
“You will find out soon enough. Do I have to tell you everything? You are a grown man, Thomas, surely you can find some things out for yourself.”
When they reached the wide terrace, it was to find Isabel sitting at the head of a table with her children and Fernando, as well as a handsome man Thomas almost failed to recognise as the same one he had seen days before. De Borja was no longer dressed in the crimson robes of a cardinal, but as an ordinary man, and the sight of him after the conversation with Lawrence sent a shiver through Thomas.
“At last, Sir Thomas.” Isabel rose from her chair and offered a hand to be kissed. At the other end of the table, Fernando looked up and nodded, but gave no indication whether he welcomed the sight of Thomas or not. The child Isabel glanced at him, but he was not Jorge so carried little interest. Juan was another matter, shifting in his seat as he tried to control himself.
The sight of de Borja, tall, lean and handsome, made Thomas uneasy. Lawrence had hinted at some unknown truth, and the sight of the man brought an idea more firmly into Thomas’s mind.
“I do not believe you have met Cardinal de Borja, have you?” Isabel re-took her seat and waved for a servant to bring another chair. It came almost at once, to be set at the table between Juan and Isabel, almost opposite de Borja.
“No, we have never met, but I know you by reputation, Your Eminence.”
The man offered a nod. “And I you, Sir Thomas. Isabel speaks of you often.” He gave a smile. “Prince Juan, too. I believe you are some kind of hero to him.”
“I fixed his leg, Your Eminence, nothing more.”
“You are among friends here, Sir Thomas, call me Rodrigo. As I believe you call both the King and Queen by name.”
“Only if you stop calling me Sir Thomas. It is not an honour I sought or deserved.”
Another nod. “Agreed.”
Thomas glanced at Isabel, who had watched the conversation as if observing two scorpions circling each other.
“You will eat with us, Thomas?”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“If you are going to call the Cardinal Rodrigo, you must do the same for me.”
Thomas felt awkward, different, the presence of de Borja a weight on him, blanketing his actions.
“I will try to remember, Isabel.” Even the uttering of her name, once so easy, felt forced. “But I need to ask you something and it would be best done between yourself and Fernando.”
“We have no secrets from Rodrigo, none at all. You can speak freely here. As long as it is suitable for the children to hear, of course.”
“It concerns Jorge, so perhaps not.”
Isabel smiled. “Are your children here? Your son must come to play with Juan again.”
“They remain in Gharnatah. As for Jorge, he continues to languish in prison here in Qurtuba.”
“As he should if the charges against him are true,” said Fernando.
“I cannot believe Jorge capable of any action that would result in his arrest.” Isabel’s hand moved to cover Thomas’s before she stopped herself.
“Oh, he is capable enough,” said Fernando. “I remember when he rode with me to rescue Juan. He killed men that day. And from what I hear he has killed another here in our city. An innocent man this time.”
“Perhaps it would be best to discuss these matters without the children after all.” Isabel clapped her hands and asked for Theresa to be sent for. While they waited, she ate a small portion of meat and a single green bean.
“I understand you are here for the talks between Castile and Al-Andalus.” De Borja filled the awkward silence with an easy charm, which overrode the implied insult of Thomas being part of the heathen party. “How do the negotiations go?”
“I am sure Fernando can tell you that far better than I can. I am only here because my master knows of my relationship with Castile, nothing more. I have to show my face once or twice a week. Others carry out the negotiations.” He glanced at Fernando. “Such as they are. And I thank you both for offering me accommodation in the palace. I am getting too old to sleep on hard ground.”
“You are not old, Thomas,” said Isabel. “And you are always welcome here, you know you are. You should have come to me sooner.”
“You have more important matters to think of than my welfare.”
“Isabel is like all good rulers,” said de Borja. “She thinks of the small matters as well as the large. It shows her humanity, and is only a small part of why her subjects love her as they do. She tells me you know this mariner, Columb. He is one of the matters pressing on her mind at the moment. What do you think of his claims? Are they madness or not?”
Thomas tried to turn his mind to an answer that might satisfy the man, then made the decision to reply honestly.
“I thought him a lunatic until this last year.”
“And now?”
“I too am interested in your opinion,” said Isabel. “Speak your mind, Thomas.”
“His claims carry some truth,” he said. “I believe him wrong in his calculations by some measure, but if he sails west, he will not fall off the edge of the world as some claim. He will find land, though not the land he is looking for.”
“Why not?” De Borja’s voice had lost its softness, his eyes sharp on Thomas.
“I have examined many documents, both old and new, and maps made by Northmen who I believe have already found a new land to the west, but it is not the Indies. It is a land we know nothing of. Columb’s calculations underestimate the size of the world.” He returned de Borja’s gaze. “Or are you like your colleagues and do not accept that the earth is as a pebble spinning in space?”
