‘Our new kingdom of Spain has grown from nothing to cover the whole peninsula, in a few centuries. Now, it seems to me, we have the chance to build a new Spanish empire that could grow much further, beyond all imagination. Why, the monarchs could be compared in future to - to—’

Abdul said drily, ‘Alexander the Great?’

‘Exactly! And on the other hand if we don’t take this chance some other petty king or grasping prince, from Portugal or England or France, will take it instead, and we’ll be for ever in their shade.

‘And I’ll tell you something else. We need the money. For centuries we lived off a tithe of Moorish gold. Now we’re funding the war with money confiscated from the Jews by the Inquisition. But the Moors are all but defeated. And if some have their way,’ and he eyed the Inquisitors, ‘we’ll soon be driving the last Jew out of Spain, and half our merchant class and a good chunk of our wealth will go with them, and then we’re going to need a new source of funds.

‘Cristobal Colon, you may be a genius or as mad as a grasshopper in a hat, I’m not qualified to judge. But you offer a vision of virtually unlimited wealth, for a price that represents an affordable risk. And for that reason I’ll be recommending strongly to their noble majesties,’ and he bowed to Isabel, ‘that they fund your mission. Let it not be said that such great and noble monarchs denied themselves a grand chance to probe the secrets of the very universe over a pittance.

‘And as for the proposal that Colon should become a general in God’s army,’ he concluded, glancing at Ferron, ‘God has many generals, but we have only one Cristobal Colon. He is meant for discovery, not war, friar!’

So, Harry realised, his and Geoffrey’s years of work and scheming - and perhaps a manipulation of history centuries deep - were coming to fruition in this very room.

And Harry himself had to ruin it. He gazed at Ferron, who met his eyes calmly. Anger flared in Harry. Perhaps he would defy this monster even now.

But then Ferron turned to his serving girl, who had knelt, silent and still as a statue, throughout Colon’s presentation. Ferron slid back the veil from the girl’s face.

It was, of course, Agnes. Her chin was bruised, her nose a little bloody. Her eyes were empty, unfocused, and a little drool laced her lips. It was clear she was drugged.

Harry knew he had no choice. Reluctantly, he stood. The Queen, de Santangel, even Colon, turned to him curiously.

Geoffrey plucked at his sleeve. ‘In God’s name sit down. We have won! There’s no more to be said.’