Razi remained standing for a moment, his face blank with exhaustion. Then he shook himself. ‘Stay here, darling,’ he said. He smiled. ‘We’ll be going home soon . . . Lady Mary? Is there anything I can do for you? Any comforts you might need?’
Mary just stared at him, her hands clasped at her stomach. Razi nodded, bowed and headed tiredly for the door. He was about to duck outside when Mary spoke.
‘What did you do to him?’ she asked. Razi came to a halt, his hand tightening against the canvas wall of the tent. ‘Isaac,’ clarified the lady. ‘What did you do to him?’
Oh, no, thought Wynter. Don’t. Don’t tell her.
Razi turned his head only a little. She saw him hesitate. Then he turned to face the lady and looked her in the eye. Wynter felt Mary stiffen by her side, her small hands clenched.
‘I had him tortured,’ said Razi.
Mary shook her head in horror.
‘I had him tortured,’ said Razi again, his voice too loud. ‘It was vile.’ He held Mary’s appalled eyes, as if to punish himself with the look in them. ‘He died,’ he said. Then he ducked outside and the tent-flap fell into place.
Wynter stood behind the lady’s chair, waiting for tears and searching her mind for suitable platitudes, but when Mary spoke, her voice was curiously steady and distant.
‘Poor Isaac; I always suspected that he had feelings for me.’
He called you ‘darling’, thought Wynter. He said to tell you that he had stayed true. I do not think I shall ever tell you that. I think it might break your heart if you knew it.
‘It was not for revenge that he was tortured, Lady. You understand that? To have done that to another person . . . it is so far from what Razi is. I wish I could make you understand how far.’
Mary remained silent. Wynter stared down at the lace cap settled neatly on her glossy black hair, overwhelmed with sympathy for her. ‘Lady?’ she asked gently. ‘Do you think it likely that Isaac acted alone?’
Mary nodded. ‘I suspect so. Poor Isaac was unbendingly loyal to my husband, but he was no reformer. I’m afraid that your Lord Razi’s dark skin would have been enough to appal the poor fellow . . . and the thought of a non-Christian on the throne!’ The lady shook her head. ‘I can just imagine his outrage.’ She looked beseechingly at Wynter. ‘It is true that Isaac was no humanist, Protector Lady, but I hope that you can believe me when I tell you he was a good man.’
Wynter nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said.
‘The inquisition took Phillipe the very week that he had planned to journey here. Jared knew I would not be safe, and so he came for me and took me with him. Phillipe’s fellows were meant to meet us on the trail. They never appeared, but Jared knows they are still active. They await news of this negotiation – so eager for change.’
Mary paused, her thoughts running away with her.
‘Do you think they will effect that change, Lady?’
‘Oh yes,’ breathed Mary. ‘Oh yes. With your Prince’s machines they can do it. I have no doubt.’
The Prince’s machines.
‘Lady?’ asked Wynter, her mouth dry. ‘Will it be a change worth effecting?’
Mary looked up at her. ‘Protector Lady, anything would be better than the current situation. My husband’s plans have robbed him of his life, and they have left me with nothing. I doubt that even one member of my family remains alive. But I still believe in the reform, Protector Lady. I must. For if you could only know what it is like there . . .’ She shook her head. ‘A change must come,’ she whispered.
Wynter looked from the lady’s dark, earnest eyes to the swell of her pregnancy, appalled at how little the poor woman had left. What on earth would become of her, now that Tamarand’s purge had robbed her of all she was?
Mary ran her hand across her belly. ‘This only became apparent on the trail,’ she said softly, ‘silly child.’ She tapped the fullness beneath her skirts. ‘What a time to come into this world.’
At last, Mary’s voice cracked, and Wynter came from behind her chair to sit on the cot, looking into her face. She took Mary’s hand. The satin of the lady’s gloves was soft, the grimy lace at her fingertips very fine.
‘Isaac stayed behind, while Jared and I fled, and when poor Phillipe was finally