Sword and Scimitar

Thomas winced. ‘You seek revenge?’

‘Of course. It was the prospect of revenge that sustained me over the years. That was the reward that Walsingham offered me, as well as a most generous payment.’

Thomas was chilled by the cold-blooded calculation in Richard’s voice, even as he swiftly reflected on the shadowy thinking that lay behind Walsingham’s schemes. Then it struck him. ‘My God, he has been pla

Richard frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Walsingham. He has been grooming you for this task. And watching me closely. He must have inherited the prospect from the men who served before him. Always waiting for the opportunity to put us both into play.’ Thomas shook his head in wonder at the depth of the schemes hatched out by England’s spymasters. It was a giddying realisation and with difficulty Thomas pushed it aside for the moment. He stared at Richard. ‘He lied to you. Maria is your mother. He told you different to spur on your hatred towards me. It is your intention to kill me, then?’

His son stared back in silence for a moment before he replied, ‘It was. . .’

‘And now?’

Richard breathed deeply and dabbed the sweat from his face with a strip of cloth. There was a slight droop to his shoulders as he spoke. ‘Alas, I have spent too long in your company. Whatever your sins, and faults, as a father, I have come to know you as a man. I have seen your courage and recognised your sense of honour, and even your compassion for others. Walsingham warned me that to spend time with an enemy endangers the resolve to kill him. He expected this, and I was foolish enough to swear to him that I would not bend. That my thirst for revenge would not be quenched by such weakness. He was right, alas. I no longer wish to kill you. But I still wanted to hurt you, to punish you. That was my new intention. To tell you all, whether or not we survived the siege. I would have related how you had blighted my life, and cursed you.’

‘And I am cursed,’ Thomas replied, his throat strained with the tension of fighting back the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. ‘I have twice lost a son. Once when told he had died as an infant, and now when I know of the years I have been denied as his father.’

‘You are no father to me and never will be.’ Richard shut his eyes for a moment. ‘But, if you speak true, my mother still lives . . . My God, she is alive.’

‘You must speak to her,’ Thomas said gently.

‘And what would I say? Where would I begin?’

Thomas shook his head. ‘That I do not know, but perhaps the words will come when you are face to face.’

‘I need time to think . . . Even if my mother lives, that changes nothing between us. I spurn you as a father. But, for all that, I admire you as a man. And that is all that can be between us now.’ Thomas stopped himself from pursuing the matter. There was still hope that his son might change his mind, there was still time for reconciliation. Then bitter self-reproach swept over him. Of course there was no time. Just as there was none for Maria. In a matter of hours he would leave for St Elmo, and there were preparations he must make before then.

He sat down wearily on the end of Richard’s cot and gazed at his son, pained that he had not recognised those features he had inherited from Maria. He felt an urge to reach out and touch the young man’s cheek, but stilled his hand for fear of the inevitable rebuff and that it would make him look like a foolish, desperate old man.

‘Richard, I have volunteered to join the garrison at St Elmo, along with Colonel Mas. We leave tonight.’

His son stared at him and then his gaze wavered as he replied quietly, ‘That is almost certain death.’

‘It seems so. Unless Don Garcia and his army arrive in time.’

‘That is unlikely.’

‘Yes.’

There was a brief, agonising silence before Richard swallowed nervously. ‘I will come with you.’

Thomas shook his head firmly. ‘No. You will stay here, where you have a chance to survive. Besides, you have an obligation to return to Walsingham with your prize.’

Richard nodded. ‘That is so. But I can make arrangements for it to find its way back to England if I die before Malta is saved from the Turks. And if it falls, then it is well enough hidden for the enemy not to find it. Does my . . . mother know that I am here?’

‘No. But she may guess now that I have seen the locket and reacted as I did,’ Thomas admitted.

‘And if she knows then it is possible that others will learn the truth. If it is discovered that I am a spy, my life is forfeit.’

Thomas thought for a moment. ‘Maria will not put your life at risk. She has kept the locket a secret. Even from Oliver. ’

‘Sir Oliver Stokely?’

Thomas smiled sadly. ‘Her husband, as it turns out.’

‘But he’s a member of the Order. Marriage is forbidden.’

‘So are many things but what is not flaunted is overlooked.’ Richard gave him a curious look. ‘It must pain you to have discovered this.’

‘As much as it did to discover I had a son. A son I would have been proud of.’

Richard looked away quickly. ‘If Sir Oliver discovers the truth then I will be arrested, tortured and executed. Even if he does not have the stomach for it, La Valette will insist on it. I would rather die on St Elmo with a sword in my hand than on the rack or at the end of a rope. I shall come with you.’

‘No.’ This time Thomas did reach out with his hand and clasped that of his son. ‘It is certain death. I will not send you to such a fate.’

‘You do not send me. I choose to come.’

‘And I tell you to stay.’ The words came out quickly, like an order, and Thomas regretted his tone at once. He lowered his voice and continued more gently. ‘Richard . . . my son, I beg you, do not come with me. This is a fate I have chosen for myself. I can bear it if I know that it gives you, and Maria, a chance to survive the siege. If you were there with me, I would only fear for you. If you were to be harmed before my eyes, I would die a thousand deaths in St

Elmo, not just one. Please.’ He squeezed Richard’s hand. ‘Stay here.’

Richard was silent for a moment, deep in thought, then he nodded reluctantly and Thomas eased himself back with a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’ He withdrew his hand and stroked his brow. ‘There is one thing I would know before I leave. This document that you were sent to find. What is it?’

Richard looked at him with a slight air of suspicion. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘If I am to die then I would do so with a mind unclouded by doubts. Before I left London, Walsingham assured me that he needed the document in order to save many lives in England. He could have been lying to me. I would like to know if I was sent here On a dishonest pretext, or if I have done something for the good in this world. So, my son, tell me. What is so important that powerful men in England conspired for years so that we two might be brought to this place?’

Richard considered the request briefly, and nodded. ‘I already know the contents of the document, assuming that Walsingham was telling me the truth.’ He smiled. ‘My trust in his word is no longer quite what it was. You had better read the document for yourself. Be good enough to stand up.’

Thomas did as he was told and Richard lifted the end of the cot and swung it away from the wall. The surface had been plastered long ago, but the boisterous activities of generations of squires had cracked the plaster in many places and bare bricks were exposed. Richard knelt beside a section of the wall that he had exposed and drew his dagger. He eased the point between two of the bricks and carefully worked one out far enough to get a grip on it and extract it. He placed the brick on the floor and reached his hand into the dark opening.

His expression froze, and he stretched his fingers as far into the hole as possible before he cursed under his breath.