‘I thought you had abandoned me, Thomas. I’ve been cold in my blankets these past nights.’

Blackstone made no attempt to lie next to her but stood on the other side of the fire, letting it dance across her face. He saw the devil’s smile emerging from the flames. ‘You have the comfort of the souls of the dead, Velasquita. You draw them to you whenever you wish.’ He paused, although the lure of the woman’s passion was enticing. When the shadows danced across the ruin, it was easy to succumb to their illusion and let them draw him to her. His resolve kept him where he stood. ‘I owe you a debt. You brought the King out of Seville.’

‘I used a potion in his wine. Any man can be misled, Thomas, when his mind is befuddled.’

Was that what had happened to him? he wondered. He decided to play her game. Flattery was simply a sweet-sounding lie. ‘My wine was not drugged, but my senses were overtaken with passion for you.’

‘And you regret that?’

‘How could any man?’

‘Then lie with me tonight.’

‘No. I must see to the King’s safety tomorrow as well as yours. The French are close. My scouts have seen outriders. Another day and they’ll be on us.’ He stepped around the fire and crouched next to her, taking her hand to his lips. If he could convince her he was sincere, that he did not suspect her of knowing Ranulph de Hayle, then she would do as he asked. ‘Velasquita, our time together is not ended but I must make you safe. You and the King must leave at dawn. Puebla de Sanabria is a day’s ride, two at the most, north of here. A castle stronghold is there if you need it.’

She sat up. ‘You abandon us, Thomas?’

‘I hold back the French who expect us to run for the Portuguese border. We’ll join you when the fight’s over and then we ride for Santiago. The routiers won’t follow us into Galicia. He’ll be safe. Will you convince him?’

‘Only if you ride with us.’

‘I cannot. You know that.’

She laid her trap carefully. ‘But afterward?’

Blackstone sensed her web enfolding him. He had no choice if he was to use her influence with the King. ‘Then I’ll come to you.’

*

A brazier warmed the King’s comfortably furnished pavilion. He sat on a chair on an unfurled carpet with a side table of food close to hand. Despite the need to escape Seville in haste, Blackstone had not been able to convince the steward that pack horses should only carry essential supplies. A King does not sleep on stony ground or eat from a soldier’s cooking pot was the response. More was the pity, Blackstone thought; a fighting man like the Prince of Wales would forsake comfort when a battle loomed. Sayyid al-Hakam and Álvaraz stood behind Don Pedro.