Blackstone and those who’d taken part in the fight looked as though they had been in a tavern brawl. Cuts, bruises and a closed eye for William Ashford bore testimony to the hand-to-hand violence. Blackstone’s men sat outside the stables sharpening weapons as they watched the castle bustle into activity. Moorish cavalry rode out to investigate the dead as the High Steward’s officials prepared the King’s departure to Seville. A delegation of city merchants swept across the yard.

‘These people have money,’ said John Jacob. ‘Their clothes alone are testament to that.’

‘And they’ll want the King to stay. If he doesn’t, their fate is uncertain,’ said Will Longdon, sitting with Jack Halfpenny and their archers as they checked the fletchings on their sheaves of arrows.

‘This place could withstand a siege for a year,’ Killbere said, carefully running his finger along his blade’s edge. ‘In fact, he might have a better chance staying here.’

‘And that’s not what the Prince wants. If Don Pedro’s half-brother camps outside for two years the result is the same. Don Pedro will be dead and the French have their man in place and that leaves the Prince vulnerable. Henry of Trastámara will be crowned King of Castile no matter what we do. We have to get Pedro out of Spain and back to Bordeaux even if he plans to do otherwise because then the Prince will raise an army and we’ll be coming back.’

John Jacob looked at Killbere, who shrugged.

‘You don’t like it, John, I know,’ said Blackstone.

‘An excommunicated King who abandons Christianity, Sir Thomas. A murderer. A man who would slay young Lázaro if he were ever discovered.’

‘And us for shielding him,’ said Killbere. ‘Thomas, John’s not wrong. We give aid to a vile man. When he came to power, he murdered his father’s mistress; he’s slain his Queen and his young brother. And there are men and women and children being slaughtered in villages as we sit here and plan to help him escape.’ He spat into the dirt. ‘We have no business being here.’

Blackstone watched the scurrying burghers go into the palace. ‘We do the Prince’s bidding. That is where our loyalty lies. John, tell Beyard to bring Lázaro here.’

John Jacob knew better than to question Blackstone, even as Killbere raised an eyebrow at the boy being brought into the open. Blackstone hauled bales of straw to where they sat by the grinding wheels. Men’s clothes and blankets were already strung out to dry. The scene was no different from where any fighting men rested. The area was of no importance to the King, courtiers or officials. Only castle and palace servants who might mix with the fighting men came there, and then only to barter food for coin. A servant’s life was worse than any soldier’s.