‘And one which will throw them into the arms of his half-brother. Is this not enough for him?’ said Blackstone, gesturing to the laden horses. ‘Is he mad? If we’re attacked, they’ll seize everything.’

The Spanish commander glared. ‘No, Sir Thomas, I and my men are being sacrificed. We are to draw away any enemy attack while you and his Moors ride hard for Seville. If it comes to a fight, then we are to try to buy our way out with what we seize from the merchants. He loses nothing. The merchants and my men risk everything.’ He looked to where the High Steward and Velasquita had re-entered the palace and then turned back to Blackstone. ‘You must have friends close to the King. You were supposed to cause the diversion and draw away the routiers. My men are loyal, as am I, but now we are asked to throw away our lives.’ He studied Blackstone. ‘How did you take my place at the King’s side? Did you bed the witch?’

Álvaraz turned on his heel. Blackstone knew that it was Velasquita who had changed the King’s mind. ‘Álvaraz!’

The Spaniard turned.

‘I’ll not let you be sacrificed. If the routiers come, I’ll be at your side.’

The noble gesture was not lost on the seasoned fighter. He bowed his head and returned to his men.

*

Blackstone returned to the stables where he found Killbere rubbing goose fat into his saddle.

‘Gilbert, the woman favours us. We ride with the King.’

Killbere wiped his hand across his jerkin, adding to its sheen. ‘Your whoring serves us well. I believe she means to keep you close so when the time is right she can cause you harm.’

‘I see no reason for her to do that.’

‘Thomas, there’s a malevolence about her beauty. It’s as strong as the scent she wears and which rubs off your skin. We all lust for women but she... she curdles a Christian’s heart.’ He studied his friend. ‘We will ride to our deaths if we ride with her and the malicious King. I feel it, Thomas. Do you not? Our Prince has cast us down into the serpents’ pit.’

Blackstone did not make light of his friend’s discomfort. He had felt the tingling mix of lust and what might have passed for fear – an uncertainty when he pressed his flesh to hers. The moment had startled him, for the woman’s fragrance had lulled him as if it drugged him, and he had slipped into an almost dreamlike state. It unsettled him, despite the shared pleasure. He had been careless – he should be so no longer. ‘I’ll take heed of what you say about the woman, Gilbert, but our Prince chose us for a reason. If our orders are to take the King to him, then that’s what we will do.’

Killbere uncorked his wine flask. ‘And the Queen’s assassin?’