‘That remark only shows that you know little of Christians yourself. I am a student, and a translator. I speak and write Arabic, pure Latin, and the dialects of the Castilians and the Aragonese, as well as Greek, French, English and other tongues. In Toledo I have translated works of Arab scholars into Latin, and Latin into Arabic, and—’

‘You plunder the intellectual wealth of a higher culture as you plunder our African gold.’

Peter didn’t rise to that. ‘You can’t translate philosophy without knowing something of its context.’

‘Perhaps you think we all wandered in from the desert. Moors have been in this country for five hundred years.’

‘I know that,’ Peter said. ‘But the Almohads did come from the desert, only a few decades ago - didn’t they?’

Ibrahim was predictably offended, and stalked away after his mother. Peter was forced to hurry after them, his feet already aching from his journey.

III

III

A group of people, men, women and children, had gathered in a rough semicircle before the mosque’s northern wall. Perhaps a hundred strong, they all seemed to be Christian. Many wore grubby crosses stitched to their shoulders, the papal symbol of the Reconquest. And they all seemed to be wielding stones, cobbles and lumps of concrete. Even the smallest children clutched pebbles in their tiny hands. It was a stoning, then. The Christians looked hungry for it to begin. There was no sign of any forces of order, of the Christian king’s soldiers.

But Subh, without hesitation, marched straight into the middle of this mob. Subh’s relatives hung back, but Ibrahim stayed with her, and Peter hurried after them.

At the centre of the crowd was a boy, dark-skinned, cowering against the wall. He stood awkwardly, dragging one wounded leg. His clothing was filthy and stiff with dark blood, and the left side of his face was swollen and battered. Two men stood near him, both stout and sleek, one expensively dressed, the other a Christian priest in his finery.

Subh stood proud before the cowering boy. ‘You won’t be harmed, Zawi. Stand straight, and stop that sniffling.’ She glared around at the muttering crowd. The skin of her face shone with fine oils, and the slight breeze wrapped her loose white clothing around her so that her hips and breasts were prominent. In that moment of peril she looked magnificent to Peter, powerful, authoritative. Once again he felt a pang of helpless lust.

She called out clearly, ‘“He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.” Aren’t those the words of Christ, recorded in the gospel of John? What, are you surprised that a Muslim knows the words of your holy books? I dare say I know your own creed better than most of you, and those tatty crosses sewn to your shoulders make no difference to that. Which of you fine Christians has condemned this snivelling boy?’