‘He called himself Radu Bey,’ Luca said carefully. A quick glance at Brother Peter, who was still on one knee, his hand on his heart, assured him that the furious hooded man, glaring after the vanishing ship, was the lord who had recruited him to the Order of Darkness. Luca knelt beside Peter and put his hand on his heart.

‘Greetings, lord.’

‘Get up,’ he spat, not even looking down at them.

‘I’m sorry that we didn’t know you wanted him detained,’ Brother Peter said quietly. ‘He was here with his ship after an accident with the mast. If we had known . . . But they were heavily armed, and we had no cannon or anything more than the local guard.’

‘You will know in future. If ever you meet him,’ Milord snatched his breath, and fought for patience. ‘If you ever meet him again, you are to entrap him if you can and send for me. If you cannot capture him then kill him outright. He is my greatest enemy. I will never forgive him for opposing me – at every turn he is my antithesis. He is second in command to Sultan Mehmet II. He breached the walls at Constantinople. He is head of their army. He is the worst enemy of Christendom that I can name. There is no one I would rather see captured than him. There is no one I would rather see dead at my feet. He is an agent of Satan. He alone is a sign of the end of days.’

Luca and Brother Peter exchanged one uncomfortable glance and rose to stand before him.

Out at sea the gorgeous flag dipped in ironic salute and was taken in. The three men watched the ship grow smaller and smaller as it went swiftly away on the darkening sea, and then the early evening twilight enveloped it.

‘So, he is gone laughing at us,’ the lord said. ‘He treats us like land-bound fools shouting after a ship sailing away. But you will remember this. And next time – for there will be a next time – you will not let him treat you so.’

‘Never,’ Brother Peter assured him.

The lord took a moment to recover his temper. ‘I have read your report on the Children’s Crusade, and on the great wave,’ he said to Luca. ‘My path crossed with your messenger as I was riding here to see the Crusade set out. You can tell me more after dinner.’

‘It’s a poor inn,’ Luca warned him. ‘They are still repairing and drying out.’

‘No matter. Were you on your way to Split?’

Luca shook his head. ‘No, Milord. That side of the sea was even worse hit by the great wave than this has been. It’s destroyed. We can’t go that way; there are people fleeing from there to come here, poor as it is. We were going to write to you for new orders.’