‘Have faith, Harry,’ Geoffrey said with good humour. ‘Have patience! It has been a long haul, but just a little further. This chap de Santangel, who Colon is meeting today, is more businesslike than most courtiers.’ A wealthy Aragonese, Luis de Santangel’s family had served Fernando’s ancestors for centuries as merchants and lawyers. Now de Santangel was treasurer of the Holy Brotherhood, the monarchs’ religious police. Geoffrey said, ‘De Santangel is a man of money, not of God. He will see Colon’s plan as a good business proposition, and I am confident he will back our case. You’d get on with him, Harry.’ He grinned. ‘Two men of business together, carving up the future! I can see it now.’

Harry wasn’t in the mood to be teased. ‘But Grace Bigod is here at the court. Hovering around that monster Ferron, damn his cold heart. Ferron longs for war, you know, and so does she. I think they’ve both gone mad.’

Geoffrey shrugged. ‘Grace must continue. She has invested her whole life in this project, even passing up her chance of children and grandchildren. But whatever Grace and Ferron do or say, it is a critical time.

‘The monarchs’ heads are full of fantasies. Isabel dreams of exploration. And on the other hand Fernando really believes, I think, that he is the Hidden One, the new King David who will return the Ark of the Covenant to the City of David, thus heralding the Second Coming of Christ, and the kingdom of God upon the earth. And so on! Thus the monarchs are predisposed to be swayed either way - west with Colon to find a new world, or east with the Engines of God to continue the logic of their Reconquest.

‘This is the time. The war against the Muslims is almost won. Soon, for a brief moment, the souls of the monarchs will be fluid, their purposes fulfilled, their dreams unlocked. And in this moment the future must be fixed. It is now or never for Colon, and the rest of us - perhaps the whole world.’

Harry felt he had already burned up too many years of his working life on this extraordinary project. ‘Let’s hope that we really are reaching the end of this long game, Geoffrey, one way or another.’

The friar nodded. ‘Yes. But, remember, Harry, the true game of the future is only about to begin.’

And at that moment Harry saw Abdul Ibn Ibrahim walking towards them. He was carrying a small wooden box.

Geoffrey rushed to him and clasped his arms. ‘Abdul! I didn’t know you were here. I haven’t seen you since that terrible day in Seville. What became of you?’

Abdul’s face was stony. ‘I was forced to leave Seville, of course. I returned to Granada, where I went back to the emir’s court. Now I find myself working on the finer points of our capitulation treaty.’