This was a complicated place, he reminded himself, the Christian culture of the Outremer an exotic transplantation that had survived in this alien soil for nearly a century and a half. He must keep his wits about him.

‘It is good to meet you, at last,’ he said. ‘I corresponded with your husband, and indeed your father before he passed your affairs on to your husband.’

Joan smiled at her son. ‘Thus Brother Thomas has served our family’s interests for generations.’

‘You make me feel old,’ Thomas said. ‘But conversely your family’s generous bequests have sustained the good work of my house for just as long.’

‘Then we both benefit.’

The boy did not seem very interested. ‘My mother said you have come to deliver a letter.’

‘Among other things.’ Thomas reached into his robe, and extracted a wallet of pigskin. He handed this wallet to Joan. ‘It is from your cousin in Cordoba, as I indicated. Subh, a matron of that city.’

She drew out a bit of parchment, neatly folded but with a broken seal. She read a single underlined phrase. ‘Incendium Dei. I wonder what she means by that.’ She held the letter before her small nose. ‘I would like to imagine I can smell the oranges of Spain in the ink. Robert the Wolf would say little of his time in Spain, but he spoke of the orange trees. It’s the sort of detail that survives in the telling.’

Thomas smiled. ‘It probably smells more of the sea by now, madam. I have one other piece of news for you. The Mongols.’

‘Their advance into Europe continues, does it?’ Joan asked.

Thomas shook his head. ‘They turned back at the gates of Vienna.’

‘No!’

‘It happened just this summer. It was on the death of the great Khan Ogodai. The Mongol generals immediately returned to their capital, for it is their custom to gather there to debate the succession.’

‘Well, that’s not in old al-Hafredi’s foretelling.’

‘Truthfully the document is unclear, madam. I may know more later in the year; I intend to meet with the Pope’s legate, who was at the Mongol court when the reverse came. We must discuss the implications of this.’

‘Of course.’

Saladin looked from one to the other. ‘You realise I have no idea what you’re talking about. Moorish cousins in Cordoba? The Mongols at Vienna? What does any of this have to do with us, here in Jerusalem?’

‘It’s a tangled story,’ Joan said. ‘It all stems from Robert and his strange adventures. You’ll learn it all, Saladin.’

‘I’d rather not,’ the boy said briskly.

Thomas had come across warrior cubs like this before, who put sword-swinging ahead of scholarship. He saw it as part of God’s purpose for him to correct such attitudes; he did not believe God wanted ignorant soldiers. And in this case it was essential that Saladin understood. ‘It is your duty to hear.’