Another man pushed forward. ‘Sire. You know me. Pérez of Burgos. You asked for a contribution to the cathedral. I and the other Christian merchants gave without question.’ He made the sign of the cross. ‘God bless our beloved and merciful saviour who died for us. Let others die for us now. If you abandon us, we all know Henry of Trastámara will not protect our fellow citizens, the Muslims and the Jews. They live here under your protection. And neither will being Christian mean anything to these hordes that will sweep across our city like a plague. We will die if you leave the city.’

Another merchant tried to speak, but the King raised his hand and silenced him. ‘The galley was seized because the royal coin and plate from Almodóvar is being taken by my treasurer. He will sail for the Atlantic and join me in Portugal. I cannot stay here. Your homes and lives are in your own hands now. Welcome the mercenaries and the bastard they serve and buy your lives with your wealth.’

The merchants’ wails rose higher. The High Steward slammed down his staff of office but it did not quieten the men’s fury. Blackstone felt the door give at his back. Álvaraz had heard the commotion. ‘Guard the entrance and stairs. The King has just thrown a fox in the henhouse,’ Blackstone told him.

Don Pedro got up and left the room. For one moment it looked as though the merchants would surge forward. Sayyid al-Hakam half drew his sword. His two men did the same. The threat was enough. The disgruntled merchants turned to leave.

The door was already open. Blackstone had slipped away. He needed an audience with the King.

*

Sayyid al-Hakam and the King went up the stairs to his quarters, followed by the two Moors. The High Steward turned away, heading for a different part of the palace. Blackstone followed the King, waiting until his escort turned a corner before moving closer. They walked down a long passageway turning left and right and Blackstone realized he was getting closer to where he had followed the unidentified figure from the underground tunnel. He turned another corner and the two Moors faced him, swords drawn. Beyond them the King was ushered away without a backward glance.

Blackstone kept his hands away from Wolf Sword.

‘You speak English?’ he said, ‘Or French?’