‘You’ll never get another chance like the one you blundered,’ replied the eunuch, glad of the chance to goad her. ‘But don’t be disheartened. Your part in this work tonight will more than make up for your failure. I expect by the time this is over, they’ll be writing your name in gold on the walls of Damascus.’

Lucia scowled softly. ‘I care nothing for acclaim. I only want to see the city fall. Along with that son of a poxed whore, Arbasdos.’

‘Your modesty does you credit,’ Katāros smiled. ‘As does your hatred. Now – you’re sure of the meeting place?’ He passed her the leather cylinder.

‘At the foot of the sea wall between the Boukoleon and Julian harbours.’ She slipped the leather strap over her head. She was dressed entirely in black, a headscarf obscuring her face. All but her eyes, which shone out like purple sapphires. ‘He’ll be waiting an arrow’s flight offshore.’

Katāros checked the cylinder on her back, smearing soft wax around the seal. The container needed to be watertight. ‘And the ferryman. . . you trust him?’

‘He thinks I’m meeting a lover across the straits. He knows nothing but the gold I’ll pay him.’

‘Good.’ Katāros glanced down at Nikolaos’s body. The night had not unfolded quite as the fire-maker had wished. His limbs were twisted awkwardly under him and a coil of intestine glistened wetly in his lap. ‘Very good. God go with you then,’ he murmured. Lucia lingered for a heartbeat, nodded, and then she was away into shadow. ‘Aye,’ the eunuch whispered after her. ‘And the Devil too.’

The Jewess gone, he took out the silk stole and soaked half of it in blood, then he stuffed a corner into the fire-maker’s crooked fingers. ‘Pieces, pieces,’ he chuckled to himself. The game was at last moving his way.

Next moment he was leaving the gloom-wreathed cul-de-sac behind him, turning the corner by a grubby little bakery and hurrying down the lane. The gutter next to the pathway was deep there, clogged with foul-smelling ordure. He stopped for a moment and listened. The lane was deserted. Here was as good as any spot. He pulled the dagger from his belt and let it fall. It sank down into the filth and soon disappeared.

He cast a final glance up at the faint ribbon of sky visible between the close-set houses. Somehow a silver moonbeam had burrowed its way down into the shadows. It fell across his face for a second.

And then he was gone. . .

‘So, my young hero – until the morrow.’ Einar clapped Erlan on the shoulder as they stumbled out of the tavern onto the street.

‘Don’t be late, fat man. Oh, and Einar – a bit of peace-making wouldn’t go amiss. It may be a while before you see your woman again.’