Blackstone rubbed the dirt free from his hair. ‘When my father taught me to hunt, we sat in a glade like this once. We watched a fox carry a stick in its jaws and paddle out into the water until we could only see its head. It turned his back to the current so the water lifted its fur. We saw a swarm of fleas smother his head as they tried to escape drowning; then they went onto his muzzle and then onto the stick. The fox let the stick go, came out of the river, shook himself and went back into the forest.’

Killbere knelt on the sandy riverbed and vigorously rubbed his crotch. ‘In truth, Thomas, nature teaches us all. I have an idea to rid myself of these damned lice. I’ll lie facing the current and clench a stick between the cheeks of my arse. When my arse itches like a demon’s fingernail from scurrying lice I’ll fart and blow them all downriver.’

Blackstone stood and scraped fingers through his hair, squeezing out the wet. ‘I’ll remember never to take drinking water downstream from you.’

John Jacob came towards him from the trees, carrying Blackstone’s spare linen shirt. ‘Sir Thomas, Beyard says the boy is able to speak more easily now. And he has a story to tell.’

*

Blackstone and Beyard settled Lázaro by the fire. At first he only muttered beneath his breath. Beyard urged him to find his courage and tell Blackstone his story, as he had promised. He gave him wine and pressed his arm to reassure him. There was no one close by, and no one would interrupt: John Jacob would see to that.

The boy’s nervous stammer eased and his voice grew stronger but he kept his eyes lowered. He had been a five-year-old orphaned urchin on the streets of Pamplona when officials of the Castilian royal household, making their way south through Navarre to Castile, found him. They had been scouring the slums for children to work in the stables and kitchens. Garderobe buckets needed emptying, floors swept and pampered dogs’ excrement cleaned from reed floors: the urchin learnt fast and soon began to anticipate the needs of those who wielded power before they made their demands. Two years of back-breaking work ended when the young Queen of Castile turned down a wrong corridor in the labyrinthine castle at Burgos. The boy’s willingness to please and angelic looks touched her heart. Who would deny the lonely Queen a child that had engaged her affections? The boy was gifted to the isolated bride, and he faithfully served the mistress who elevated him from his lowly position.

The memory halted Lázaro’s telling. He raised his eyes to Beyard and Blackstone, confirming to himself that it was at last safe to recount what he had witnessed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Medina Sidonia, Southern Spain Three years ago

It was a death foretold.