‘Yes. For, of course, the vizier’s purpose was not to destroy me but to own me. That was why he used his own daughter. And it worked.

‘After that he insisted I showed him all my work. He even asked for a tithe, a share of the income I made from my Arabic Bibles!’ He grinned. ‘I survived. It just made it harder to conceal my other projects from him. But of course I was never allowed to be alone with Muzna again. Our love had served its purpose, for him.’

‘So,’ Orm said, ‘the first of your three calamities was to learn that Muzna was the vizier’s daughter. And the second?’

‘To learn she was pregnant.’

It was an accident. The Moorish doctors were as expert in contraception as in so many other fields of medicine, but no method was foolproof.

Sihtric’s eyes were bright now. ‘Of course she could have got rid of it. Her father’s doctors could have helped her with that too. But she wouldn’t allow it. She hid away, until the baby was born.’

Robert said, ‘Why would she do that?’

‘I can only guess. We were never allowed to talk. I believe she wanted the baby as something of her own. She was a good woman, and intelligent. She was sickened at being used by her father. It wasn’t much of a plan, but at the very least the baby would make her less useful as a pawn in a marital alliance of lineages - or, worse, a whore.’

Robert said, ‘She may have loved you. She may have wanted to keep the baby because it was yours.’

Sihtric bowed his head. ‘I can never allow myself to believe that.’

Orm said grimly, ‘And your third calamity?’

‘She died in childbirth. The baby survived. Not my Muzna.’ He said bitterly, ‘Again we were let down by the glories of Moorish medicine. The doctors can save a fool of a boy who throws himself at a waterwheel, but not my Muzna!’

Robert said, ‘And the child?’

‘Was Moraima. My daughter. And the granddaughter of the vizier.’

Robert sat back, shocked.

‘So that’s why the vizier cares so much about her,’ said Orm. ‘And why he reacted so strongly when a young Christian buck like Robert came sniffing around.’

Sihtric said, ‘And I, I who had found love and comfort, had it snatched away from me. Oh, God is cruel if He is defied!’

Robert, on impulse, touched his shoulder. ‘To despair of God is a sin.’

Sihtric looked up, his face full of anguish. ‘Yes. But the trouble is, I think He has despaired of me. Well. Now you know it all.’

‘Not quite all.’ The vizier walked into the room, making the guard step aside.

Robert saw that Moraima waited outside, a flower in the sunlight. Her face was blotchy, as if she had been crying. But she saw him, and smiled weakly.