She smiled. ‘Of course.’

‘I cannot be associated with what we must do. Suspicion will fall on you and the Englishman you use, de Hayle. You cannot return to me. Not yet.’

Her answer further eased his agitation. ‘I will arrange a boat elsewhere. No one will know. You are free of all guilt. There will be no blemish on you. We have found no witness to the Queen’s death. The way ahead is clear of all impediment.’

Don Pedro felt the authority of his birthright return; her soothing words had lulled his uncertainty. ‘In time I will return to Castile with the English Prince’s help. Be patient and come to me then.’ He watched her; her demeanour was quiet, yet unsettling. ‘And it would do no harm for Blackstone to become a martyr to his Prince,’ he whispered.

She touched his face as a mother would comfort a child. She nodded.

‘How?’ he asked.

‘As it is foretold.’

*

Velasquita slipped out through the servants’ door where the High Steward waited dutifully to be summoned back to the King’s presence. His gaunt features shrank as she stepped closer to him. He backed against the wall.

‘The King will soon leave for the coast. You will arrange the supplies for the men.’

‘Those who do my bidding attend to those matters.’

‘And you are devoted to the King?’

‘I am.’

‘You have served him from the start.’

‘I have.’

‘He is an imperfect man, but he is king by divine right.’

The High Steward nodded. His mouth was dry.

‘Whom do you love more? Our Lord Jesus or the devil?’

‘Our blessed Lord, of course,’ he answered, his voice so fearful it was barely a whisper.

‘And whom do you fear the more?’

‘The devil,’ he whispered, crossing himself.

She held a thumb-sized leather-encased bottle in front of his face. ‘The devil waits for you if you do not do as I tell you.’

The steward’s throat constricted. He gasped out the words: ‘I will cause no harm to the King.’

‘But you will save the King and your soul if you put this into the Englishman’s wineskin before they leave for the coast.’

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE