Here, huddling in his cloak against the wind, Geoffrey looked out over the roof of the cathedral, crowded with buttresses and pinnacles. It was as if he stood on the back of some huge stone beast. The city beyond was a patchwork of patios and domes that looked very Moorish to his untrained eye. But when he looked to the west, across the busy river with its pontoon bridge, he made out the hateful pile of Triana.

Abdul followed his gaze. ‘You may not be able to help her,’ he murmured. ‘Agnes Wooler. The Inquisition is nothing if not relentless.’

‘I can try. I was present at the destruction of the engines, but Ferron has no reason to suspect I had any involvement in that catastrophe - indeed, I didn’t, not directly. And I am a Franciscan, quite senior in the order; I have letters from the church authorities in England. Ferron cannot deny me access to her hearing. At least I may learn what Agnes is forced to say to her interrogators. Then we may be forewarned for the battle to come over Colon.’

The Moor studied him. ‘I don’t believe you have come all this way just for the lofty purposes of prophecies. I know you by now, Geoffrey Cotesford. You care for people more than for ideas. You are here to save Agnes, an English girl who has fallen into the hands of the Spanish Inquisition.’

Geoffrey felt his anger mount, as it had so often whenever he reflected on that dreadful day in Derbyshire when Diego Ferron had effectively kidnapped Agnes Wooler. ‘England is not Spain. In England we have a common-law writ known as habeas corpus. It dates back centuries, to the day the barons tempered King John’s powers with the Magna Carta. Ever since it has served to preserve individual liberty by testing the legality of detentions. If she had not been removed from England, Agnes Wooler would be protected by such traditions, such laws. But not here, not here! Not in this country poisoned by war, and by the fear of the other.’

Abdul laid a calming hand on his arm. ‘I’m afraid you can be sure that the Inquisition will extract everything she knows from poor Agnes before they are done. As for us, your name will surely be protected, but mine may not. And if I am implicated, I won’t be able to help you further with the matter of Colon.’

‘You must think of yourself, then,’ Geoffrey said.

Abdul shook his head. ‘No. We serve a greater cause, you and I.’

‘Yes, we do, by God - by Allah! Thank you, my friend. But it comes to something when my most robust ally, here in this most ardently Christian of cities, is a Moor!’