The noise of his home being destroyed about him tore into ben Josef’s heart. ‘Had I not you would have died a lingering death.’

De Hayle beckoned to one of the men. ‘Tie him up.’

The routier went into the bedroom and returned with a sheet. He ripped it into strips and bound the old man to the chair. Tibalt stretched out ben Josef’s arms so they could be secured to the armrests. De Hayle tried tugging off the physician’s two rings, but was unable to get them past his knuckles, so he cut off the two fingers. Ignoring ben Josef’s screams, he pulled the rings free over the bloody stumps.

‘There’s nothing!’ one of the destroyers said. He strode to ben Josef, snatched at his beard and shouted: ‘Where’s the gold? Jews hoard gold.’

Tears spilled into his beard. He could barely mumble through his pain. ‘I have no coin, no gold, no silver. Out there... the grapes... that is my wealth.’

‘Keep looking,’ said de Hayle. He grabbed ben Josef’s slumped head. ‘Where is the boy?’

Ben Josef looked uncertain. ‘Boy?’

‘I caught up with Tibalt after they ambushed us. He said that when he met Santos on the road with Aziz and Saustin, Santos said he’d heard you talking to Blackstone about the boy. That he would come here to be with you. He’s worth money. Where’s Lázaro? Where’s he hiding?’

‘He’s not here. I swear it. You’re mistaken.’

‘Santos heard you!’

‘Yes, yes, but the fool misunderstood. Lázaro is with Blackstone. It was another lad who was to return here. A peasant boy. He acted as a guide for Blackstone.’

De Hayle jerked upright as if someone had slapped him.

One of the routiers saw the mercenary leader’s reaction. ‘What?’ said the skinner. ‘What did he say?’

De Hayle recovered and smiled. ‘The stupid old drunkard got it wrong. The boy’s not here.’

‘We did all this for no reason?’ said the routier, lifting a rundlet from the floor and forcing the small barrel’s lid free with his knife.

Ben Josef shook his head. ‘Sir Ranulph, Tibalt, all you will find here are sweet peppers and meat in brine. Stored for winter months. Smoked river fish in the smoking shed and salted goat in the barn. We have nothing else. Nothing. Take the food, I beg you, and do no more harm. The people in Estella will see the flames. The militia will come.’

The routier plunged his arm into the brine and came out with peppers. He abandoned the barrel and went into the bedroom, tipped over the bed and began tearing up more floorboards.

De Hayle looked around the ruined house. The two rings he clasped in his fist were a poor recompense for tracking down the old physician, and an equally poor substitute for Lázaro, a prize worth delivering whether alive or not.