The dean had written a pass for Beyard and Lázaro, granting them access to the Archbishop, and they were accorded the privilege of an escort. They wound their way through the crowded streets accompanied by Beyard’s Gascons, Aicart and Loys, eyes peeled for thieves in the crowds of pilgrims. Blackstone’s gift to Lázaro, his own pilgrimage to the cathedral, was a reward for a resolute and loyal servant rescued all those months before. He had grown in confidence and his future was now more certain than it had ever been. Beyard had promised to find him service with his own powerful and influential lord, the Captal de Buch. Just as Jean de Grailly, the Captal, had gifted Beyard to serve Blackstone, now Beyard was ensuring the boy could serve one of the greatest lords in Gascony. Their journey would soon be at an end. Once they left Don Pedro at Corunna their ride along the coast would take three or four days and then they would be in Gascony.

Lázaro barely contained his excitement. ‘And Sir Thomas spoke to the Archbishop himself? To ask him for a blessing?’

‘Not just a blessing but a private one. Sir Thomas honoured you.’

‘My lord, if God has seen fit to let me live despite what I witnessed then I will serve Him and your Lord de Grailly for as long as I live. Will I see the botafumeiro?’

‘If luck favours us. Sir Gilbert said it was a thing of wonder.’

They approached the cathedral gates and watched pilgrims being given new clothes as their own were burnt. ‘Must we undress?’ said Lázaro.

‘No, we are not pilgrims who have travelled for hundreds of miles; we ride with the English King’s Master of War. You bathed, didn’t you, as I told you to?’

‘I did, and I put on a clean shirt.’

‘Then you are free from lice and disease and we will be welcome. You have your Queen’s crucifix?’

Lázaro nodded; his smile faded as he tugged it free and kissed it.

Beyard laid a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘She would be proud of you. Ask the Archbishop to bless that as well.’

Their escort took them to the Puerta de las Platerías, forcing aside street hawkers selling silver trinkets. ‘Through here to the antesacristía,’ he explained. ‘The dean will greet you. Your horses will be here.’ Beyard led the way from the plaza’s entrance and then through the double-arched door beneath the carved figures representing heaven and hell. The boy stopped, his gaze fixed on the figures shown on the tympanum. A half-dressed woman with a skull in her hands sat on two lions. A moment of fear stabbed at him.

‘Lázaro?’ said Beyard.