‘They believe this as a truth?’ Luca whispered. ‘A literal truth? They think that people can whistle up a wind, bring down a storm?’

‘They have seen such things.’ Father Benito spread his hands. ‘Inquirer, I can tell you on oath. I have seen such things. I saw a woman call up a storm onto the mast of the ship of a man she hated. I saw it with my own eyes: the woman swore a curse on him as his ship sailed from port, and the one deckhand who swam to safety spoke of cold terrible lights dancing around the mast until the ship went down.’

‘We have had a crusade of storm-bringers, God help us,’ the woman cried out. ‘And then you bury them in holy ground?’

The priest turned to her. ‘Mistress Ricci, the children were drowned as innocents. They were on a holy crusade. They were singing hymns as they walked out to sea.’

She shot a pointing finger at Ree. ‘All of them?’ she demanded, her face twisted with cunning. ‘Were they all drowned? Or did some of them cause the wave but then escape scot-free? Is there not, right here, a little girl who was one of the first into town and begging for bread, and yet she ran through the town ahead of the wave, silent – not warning anyone – and now here she is at the funeral of the others? Rejoicing in her work? Taunting us? Who is she? And what’s she going to do next? Bring down thunder? A plague? Are snakes going to come out of her hair? Frogs from her mouth?’

‘Now, that’s enough,’ Isolde commanded quietly, stepping forwards to shield the little girl. ‘She’s just a child. I am sorry for your grief, Mrs Ricci, but we have all lost someone we love. We must comfort each other . . .’

‘But who are they?’ Mrs Ricci looked from Isolde’s sympathetic face to Luca. ‘And how can you be so sure that they are mortal children? All very well for you to say that she is a child, that they were mortal children, but they didn’t act like mortal children. They came without parents, from who knows where! Did they not call up the great wave and ride away on it? Like the storm people they are?’

The priest shook his head sorrowfully, raised his hand in blessing and turned away from the angry woman, refusing to answer her questions. He made his way through the little gate into the town, but nothing would discourage Mrs Ricci, and now the wise women were beside her, staring at Ree and clenching their hands in the gesture against witchcraft.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Isolde drew Ree to her side, then went to follow the priest. At once the three women darted forward and started to close the gate against her. Ishraq stepped quickly forwards and took the weight of the wooden door, pushing back against the angry women, her dark gaze on Mrs Ricci. ‘Don’t,’ she advised briefly. The three women, cowed by Ishraq’s gaze and the strong push at the gate, gave way and Isolde and Ree walked through it, Ishraq closely behind them as if on guard.