But Harry shook him off. ‘I must speak.’ He turned to de Santangel, his head full of devastating arguments against Colon - not least the fact that some of his evidence was simple fakery, planted by Geoffrey and himself. He prepared to speak.

And Ferron’s other Moorish companion, the tall woman, leapt to her feet. From beneath her loose white robes she produced a blade, long and sharp and polished.

With a strangled cry she hurled herself at the Queen. Isabel stared, with no time to react.

But as the woman’s arm descended, as the blade fell towards the Queen’s breast, Abdul Ibn Ibrahim threw himself between the killer and her target. He took the first strike in his arm, but he stayed on his feet and spun around, trying to get hold of the killer. His reward was another stabbing, this time in the chest. Blood spurted from the wound, frothy with air, and Abdul gurgled, as if drowning.

But the blade was caught, perhaps on Abdul’s ribs, and the killer could not draw it out. The Holy Brothers had time to fall on the assassin and club her to the ground.

The audience erupted in screams and panic, as bishops and nobles scrambled to get out of the room. Colon stood beside the monarch fiercely, protecting her with his bulk.

Harry ran to Agnes, and scooped her up in his arms. She was as limp as a puppet, her eyes rolling in her head. But she was alive.

He turned to see the Holy Brothers holding down the would-be killer. He got a clear view of her face for the first time.

Her skin darkened, her hair blackened, it was Grace Bigod.

XXVII

XXVII

James saw the courtiers spilling out of the audience chamber. From his elevated viewpoint they boiled like ants over the ground. He grinned, and swept lower. If Grace and Ferron had arranged for the inquiry into Colon to come out into the open air to see his display in the sky, this was his cue.

But the crowd seemed disorderly. People were running away from the chamber - and likewise soldiers were running towards the mocked-up building. Even from up here he could hear screams. And now he saw a knot of the heavy-set brothers hustling out of the chamber, escorting a finely dressed woman who could only be the Queen. Something had gone wrong. Nobody was looking up. He would have to descend to see what was going on - and to make people look at him.

Tugging on his control lines he dipped his left wing, and banked that way. But then a gust of wind washed over the wing, and it pulled out of his grasp. He felt the machine slide further to the left, and the strengthening breeze made it impossible to pull the wing back. He fought with his control lines and kicked at his machine’s tail. Struts snapped with sharp cracks.