‘Oh, aye?’ said Longdon, stepping aggressively forward, pointing a finger close to the man’s chest. ‘Then next time some routier bastard is going to shove his sword down your arrogant throat I will not permit my archers to save your sorry arse.’

Killbere put an arm between the two men. Provocation often put a sword or knife in a man’s hand.

‘What do you want?’ said Blackstone.

The Moor took a step back when Blackstone faced him. ‘My lord,’ he said respectfully. ‘You have asked to see the King. I am to escort you to him.’

*

Blackstone followed his escort through the voluminous corridors and ornate double archways towards the Lion’s Gate entrance and the Hall of Justice. An angry swarming buzz carried on the breeze: a murmur of discontent from beyond the walls, exaggerated by the tiled floor and walls. His guide led him deeper into the cool chambers. The sound of trickling water from a rill echoed across a vast mosaic-decorated hall. Footfalls scuffed across the smooth floor as a delegation of three men, one man leading, two in attendance, crossed their path. The man who led them glanced at Blackstone. His finery told Blackstone he was someone of importance and the men’s hurried pace made it obvious they were keen to leave the Alcázar as soon as possible. Blackstone’s escort turned into a passage and was blocked by Sayyid al-Hakam, who gave him a curt nod. The escort obeyed the silent command and walked away.

Sayyid al-Hakam stood six feet away from Blackstone, close enough that he could smell the Moor’s breath, sweetened with the scent of something he had recently eaten or drunk.

‘Go no further, Sir Thomas,’ said Pedro’s bodyguard.

Blackstone looked past the heavyset man; there was no one else in the shadows. If al-Hakam intended to challenge Blackstone, it would be a test of strength. He stared at the Moor. ‘I’m to meet the King. You’re in my way.’

‘It was I who sent for you, Sir Thomas. And I used the one man I trust to bring you here. The King is inflamed with temper. You must not go close to him. Years ago he killed his brother while in such a rage. When it’s unleashed we cannot tame his violence. If you go to him now one of you will die. And I know who that will be.’ He paused and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Your Prince would not look kindly on you killing a king.’

The confession surprised Blackstone. Loyalty to the King seemed absolute yet al-Hakam, the man closest to Don Pedro, had summoned him, using the King’s name, to warn him. It was a grave risk the bodyguard had taken. He would know that if Blackstone told Don Pedro al-Hakam had warned him of his master’s violence, then it would be the Moor’s head on a spike.