The handsome almond eyes narrowed. ‘It is true my wife was once a Christian. But she was shown her error. God is one.’

Leo nodded. ‘And you do not fear him. God, I mean. That despoiling one of his maidens would stir up his wrath against you.’

‘It is we who are the instruments of God’s wrath. Allah takes no pleasure in error. But He is merciful and she is happy. Hers will be the fate of the Queen of Cities.’ His eyes burned bright with conviction.

‘Hmm. We shall see.’

‘You’ve had your chance to submit, Byzantine. But now the sword of Allah will fall.’

Leo smiled. ‘Then let the shield of faith arise.’

Gerutha hurried on through the shadowy streets. She was clutching the neck of a wine-flask she had swiped from the kitchens on her way out of the palace. Old habits meant that even now she didn’t want to visit Alethea empty-handed. She gripped it tight lest she miss her footing on the crooked pavings or else slip in some pile of excrement and drop her gift.

It wasn’t long before she saw the familiar lamp on the street corner, and her nostrils caught the more welcome smell of newly baked bread. But when she turned onto the Street of the Bakers and peered down the lane towards Cornelius’s wine shop, she saw only a small group of men seated on stools around an upturned bucket. But not a hair of Alethea.

She remembered that the old woman had said she sometimes slept in a doorway further up the street. It was the middle of the afternoon, but if she’d been drinking. . . Gerutha passed the wine shop and continued down the lane, checking each doorway and nook all the way to the end of the street. There was no sign of Alethea. She returned to the wine shop and, ignoring the glances of the men drinking outside, put her head inside. ‘Cornelius?’

The wine-keeper looked up from his broom and cast a bloodshot eye in her direction. ‘Who’s asking?’

‘I’m a friend of Alethea.’

A blank look.

‘The woman – the beggar – who sits outside your shop.’

‘Oh, her,’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘Thought she doesn’t have no friends.’

‘But you know her, don’t you?’ Gerutha replied, trying not to let her impatience get the better of her. ‘You let her sit there every day.’

‘She sits there all right, so long as she doesn’t bother my customers. Or me.’ He tapped his temple. ‘She’s crazy.’

‘Well, do you know where she is?’

‘It’s no business of mine.’

‘Can you at least tell me the last time you saw her?’

‘Don’t know.’ Cornelius expelled a long whistle. ‘Three, four days ago. Couldn’t say exactly.’

‘But isn’t that strange?’

Cornelius shrugged. ‘I told you. It’s no business of mine if she’s crawled off some place else.’