Читать книгу The Princess's Secret Longing - Carol Townend, Carol Townend - Страница 11

The evening was warm. Moths were fluttering around three lanterns hanging over one of the doorways.

‘Three lanterns,’ Inigo Sánchez, Count of Seville, murmured. His saddle creaked as he turned to his squire, Guillen. ‘This is the place?’

‘It must be, my lord.’

The Three Lanterns was a bathhouse. Its popularity with merchants from outside the Emirate gave Count Inigo hope that the presence of a Spanish knight and his squire wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. He was finally on the point of returning home and the last thing he wanted was trouble.

Earlier that day Inigo had been freed from Sultan Tariq’s prison in the Vermillion Towers. As Count of Seville, and lord over sizeable holdings in the Spanish kingdom of Castile, a hefty ransom had been paid for Inigo’s release. He remained uneasy. Until he left the Sultan’s territory, he wasn’t going to let his guard down. His incarceration had given him a grave mistrust of Sultan Tariq, and while there was no question that Inigo was free, he wouldn’t truly relax until he was back in Castile. One more night and they’d be on their way.

‘You have our safe conduct, lad?’ Inigo asked.

Guillen patted his saddlebag. ‘In here, my lord.’

‘Good. And you were given assurances that we may explore Granada unmolested?’

They were still within a stone’s throw of the Sultan’s palace. If they encountered prejudice, Inigo needed to know he and Guillen had protection. Having won his release, Inigo had no wish to fall foul of city authorities.

‘Indeed, my lord. Provided we leave by noon tomorrow, Granada is ours to explore.’

Slivers of light were seeping out between cracks in the bathhouse shutters. Inside, Inigo could hear water being poured. There was a faint tang in the air. Almond oil. It was beyond tempting. After months in captivity, his skin itched. With a grimace, he tugged at what was left of his green tunic. Head to toe, he was filthy. ‘I stink to high heaven.’

Guillen grinned and said not a word.

Inigo lifted an eyebrow and prepared to dismount. ‘That bad, huh?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Wretch. Here, hand me that safe conduct, I’m not about to let it out of my sight.’

Guillen unbuckled his saddlebag, drew out a scroll and passed it to Inigo.

‘My thanks. See to the horses before you come to attend me.’

Inigo rapped on the door, which opened at his touch. A tiled entrance led to a small courtyard that was starred with lamps. The bathhouse was larger than it appeared from the street, arched doorways led off in all directions. The scent of almond oil mingled with other scents—bay, sage, rose...

Inigo heard the hum of conversation and then a soft footfall. A young boy was bowing at him.

‘My apologies, I don’t speak Arabic,’ Inigo said. Conscious that his unkempt appearance might lead the boy to peg him for a beggar or a thief rather than a customer, he opened his money pouch and took out a handful of silver. ‘I am Inigo Sánchez, Count of Seville, and I am hoping you speak my tongue.’

‘I do indeed, great lord.’

‘That is a relief. I would like a bath and a barber. Your name, lad?’

‘I am Mo,’ the boy said, smiling. ‘Welcome to The Three Lanterns.’

Across the courtyard a door swung wide, and Sir Enrique de Murcia stepped into the lamplight. Inigo held down a groan. Sir Enrique had been a fellow captive in the Vermillion Towers. Unfortunately, he was the last man Inigo wanted to see.

Desperate though he was for a bath and clean clothes, Inigo found himself wrestling with the urge to turn on his heel and go elsewhere. It was an awkward situation. Sir Enrique was cousin to Inigo’s close friend, Count Rodrigo Álvarez. That should have stood in Enrique’s favour, but Enrique’s foolhardiness had sparked off the border skirmish that had cost Rodrigo’s younger brother his life. If Enrique hadn’t rushed into battle, young Diego would still be alive, and Inigo and Rodrigo would never have dived into the fray in an attempt to save him. Inigo’s capture and subsequent imprisonment lay firmly at Enrique’s door.

‘Enrique,’ Inigo said. ‘Didn’t think to find you here.’

Enrique stood under an arch, swaying slightly. He was holding a wineskin and he looked drunk, which was quick work, even for him. They’d not been free for long. He lifted the wineskin to his mouth, throat working as he swallowed.

‘This wine’s not bad,’ Enrique said, tossing the empty skin aside and scowling at Mo. ‘You, fetch me another.’

‘Yes, great lord.’ Mo clapped his hands and another boy appeared and was sent in search of more wine. Mo looked at Inigo. ‘You require a private bath, great lord?’

Inigo nodded. ‘If you please. My squire Guillen is stabling our horses. He will join me shortly.’

Inigo was shown into a lamplit chamber. After the rigours of his imprisonment, it was like walking into heaven. The floor was white marble and he found himself gazing longingly at a low marble washbowl. Further in, beyond a row of horseshoe arches with red marble columns, steps led into a deep pool fed by a water spout. The water gleamed blue in the lamplight. The wall tiles were earth-coloured, and the ceiling domed. A handful of six-pointed stars were spaced about the dome. Air vents. In the day they would, presumably, admit light. A wooden couch was set against a wall.

This was his bathing chamber? It was fit for a prince.

As Inigo peeled off his clothes, filthy rags he never wanted to see again, he prayed Enrique would have the sense to realise his company wasn’t wanted.

He splashed off the worst of the filth in the washbowl before lowering himself into the pool. The water was warm and scented with sage, it felt like heaven. He closed his eyes and was easing his injured leg when a shift in the air told him someone had joined him. Hoping it was Guillen, he opened his eyes.

Enrique stood at the edge of the pool. ‘Is Rodrigo joining us?’ he asked.

‘I couldn’t say,’ Inigo said, ‘I am not privy to your cousin’s plans.’

That was a bald lie. In truth, Rodrigo was due later. However, during their captivity, Rodrigo had been unable to escape Enrique’s company and Inigo was only too conscious of how difficult he must have found it. To have been compelled, day after day, to keep the company of a man whose recklessness had led directly to the death of his beloved brother must have tested Rodrigo’s patience to the limit.

In the interest of harmony, it would be best to get rid of Enrique before Rodrigo arrived.

Enrique grunted, weaved his way to the couch and sat down heavily. He was holding more wine—a bottle this time—and was toying with the cork.

Leaning against the side of the pool, Inigo probed his leg. In the battle to save Diego, one of the Sultan’s men had sliced it open. Thankfully, the wound had healed cleanly, though it still ached from time to time.

‘They have women here,’ Enrique said conversationally. ‘Girls seem to like you, I’m sure they will be delighted to accommodate you.’

Inigo cleared his throat. ‘Not interested. Enrique, you must be forgetting, I am to be married soon.’

Enrique’s lip curled. ‘You’ve been betrothed for years, that’s never stopped you before.’

Inigo shrugged. ‘Lady Margarita and I have an understanding.’

‘She knows about your...flirtations?’ Enrique asked.

‘Aye, but we will be married shortly and all that will change.’

‘You’ll be faithful after you’re wed?’ Enrique sounded incredulous.

‘Of course.’

‘Good God, man, why? You don’t give a fig for Margarita, you never have.’

Inigo was all too aware that his relationship with his betrothed was cool. Lady Margarita Marchena de Carmona was a cool woman, which was exactly why he was marrying her. He wanted a cool wife. An emotional woman wouldn’t suit him, such a woman would disrupt his household and destroy his peace of mind. When they were married, he would reward Lady Margarita for her calm by being a loyal husband.

‘I won’t shame my wife. I shall be faithful.’

Enrique’s lip curled. ‘It’s amazing you can say that with a straight face. You’re the biggest flirt alive.’

Inigo couldn’t deny that he liked women. It was the emotional baggage they brought with them that made him wary. He liked his relationships simple.

‘There will be no flirting when I am wed. It’s too much trouble otherwise.’

Idly, Enrique watched him, and a twisted smile formed. ‘Crook your finger and those girls will come. They can dry you off. Seriously, Inigo, make the most of them while you can.’

‘Guillen will be back from the stables shortly, he can assist me.’ Wishing Enrique in Hades, Inigo slid deep into the water.

Back in Castile, Enrique’s reputation with women was ugly, Inigo had heard that he had a cruel streak. Inigo had never seen Enrique with a woman, and rumours were only rumours, but having witnessed Enrique’s vicious impetuosity in battle, he feared they might be true.

Enrique lifted the bottle and drank. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he gave Inigo an unpleasant smile. ‘I’ve been married for years and I’ve never let it interfere with the real pleasures of life.’

‘The real pleasures?’ Inigo smothered a yawn.

‘I have plans, let me tell you. I’m saving myself for later tonight.’ Enrique jerked his head towards the door. ‘Otherwise I’d avail myself of the delights here.’

Despite the warmth of the water, Inigo felt a chill of foreboding. ‘Plans?’

‘I intend to avenge myself on Sultan Tariq.’

Inigo relaxed, it was hard not to laugh. Enrique was ridiculous. Sultan Tariq was safe behind the impenetrable walls of the Alhambra Palace with innumerable soldiers answering to his command. It would take more than a lone Castilian knight with vengeance on his mind to put a dent in the Sultan’s armour. ‘Oh? How so?’ This would be interesting.

‘The Sultan will regret the day he made me do forced labour.’ Enrique’s eyes glittered, and a bitter torrent of words spilled out. ‘Damn it, Inigo. I am a nobleman, we are noblemen. It’s one thing for Sultan Tariq to demand a ransom for our capture, that I did expect, it’s common in war. But when he put us to breaking rocks in that gully outside the palace, he broke every rule of chivalry. The man’s a barbarian.’

Inigo decided that an interruption might have a calming effect. ‘I don’t know, it wasn’t all bad. We saw the three Princesses up in their tower, not many can claim that. We even got to serenade them.’

Enrique took another swig from the bottle. ‘The devil was tempting us, tempting us with his daughters.’

‘I don’t believe the Sultan was aware that his daughters saw us.’

‘That wretch knows everything, he ordered his daughters to tempt us.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Enrique, it was a pleasant diversion. The Princesses noticed us, pitied us and gave us food. I truly believe Sultan Tariq had no idea what was going on.’

‘Delude yourself all you like, the devil must have known. Nothing happens in that place without his say so. He was trying to drive us mad. Inigo, I will avenge myself for the indignities I suffered, and the Nasrid Princesses will help me.’

‘How so?’

‘I’m going back to the Alhambra Palace. I’m going to abduct them.’

Inigo stared. Truly, Enrique was a madman. ‘Impossible.’

Enrique gave a triumphant grin. ‘Not so, it’s all arranged. I’ve been in touch with the Princesses’ duenna. She seems to be disloyal to the Sultan.’

‘Seems to be?’

‘I admit it could be a mistake to rely on the word of a palace servant, but my honour is at stake, so I’m prepared to risk it. Inigo, this duenna claims credit for arranging for us to serenade the Princesses.’

‘Hang on, Enrique, you’re contradicting yourself. I thought you said that the Sultan knew what was happening?’

Enrique waved his bottle and the couch creaked. ‘Details, details. The point is that I have it on good authority that the Princesses hate their father almost as much as we do. They want to run away and they’re going to run straight into my arms.’

‘When will this happen?’

‘This very night, in the gully near their tower.’ Enrique studied the wine bottle. ‘You might like to know, they’re expecting you and Rodrigo to join us.’

‘What!’

‘Aye, they’re expecting the three of us. The Princesses’ mother was Spanish, they want us to escort them to Castile to find some lost relatives.’ Enrique’s mouth tightened. ‘Fools. We’ll show them, eh?’

‘You’re insane.’ Inigo tried to hide the extent of his dismay. Inwardly, he was appalled. Surely, even Enrique wouldn’t be so reckless? ‘Have you no sense, why stir up a hornet’s nest? We need peace between the kingdoms. We need to get home. Enrique, your plan is foolhardy in the extreme. Suicidal.’

‘Rot.’

‘The wine has addled your wits, it’s suicide. Besides, where’s your gratitude? The Princesses saved our lives.’

When Enrique gave him a blank look, Inigo enlarged. ‘You can’t have forgotten the day the Sultan made us march from Salobreña to Granada.’

‘The convoy of prisoners? Walking through dust for days? Throat so parched I couldn’t swallow?’ Enrique’s jaw set. ‘I’ll never forget it.’

‘Well then, you must also remember that the Princesses rushed to our aid. The Sultan had drawn his scimitar and if it weren’t for their intervention, he would have killed us.’

‘I don’t care. I want a princess.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s only one use for a Nasrid princess that I can think of.’ Enrique made a crude and very explicit gesture.

Inigo went still. ‘Pray tell me you’re not serious.’

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Enrique’s face. ‘You are with me, aren’t you?’

‘Certainly not. Enrique, this is madness. You’re drunk. Deluded. You can’t take your anger out on the Princesses. They are innocents.’

‘Innocents? Inigo, if anyone is deluded, it’s you. There’s an entirely different view of what happened on the road from Salobreña.’

‘Go on,’ Inigo said. With every moment that went by, Enrique’s voice was becoming more slurred. If he drank himself into a stupor, it might be best for all concerned.

‘When the Sultan threatened us,’ Enrique went on, ‘the Princesses raced up to get a better view. They wanted to watch as we were carved into a thousand pieces.’

Inigo blinked, Enrique’s version of events was so warped, it was hard to believe he was describing what they had both witnessed. ‘You honestly believe that?’

‘How was I to know what they were up to? Couldn’t understand a word they were saying. They’re all heathens.’

Inigo hadn’t been able to understand what was said either, but a blind man could tell that the Princesses were in awe of their father.

‘The Princesses were pleading for the Sultan to spare us. Enrique, they put themselves at risk for us. It was obvious.’

‘Not to me, it wasn’t.’ Enrique staggered to his feet. ‘Tonight promises to give good sport. For the last time, will you come with me?’

‘No.’ Inigo looked critically at Enrique. Experience had taught him that Rodrigo’s cousin could drink most men under the table. The man did have limits—regrettably, he didn’t appear to have reached them.

Inigo’s squire clattered in. He threw a wary glance at Enrique, propped against the wall with his wine bottle. ‘Fresh clothes, my lord.’

‘Gracias. My thanks. Set them down on that couch, would you?’ Inigo said.

Enrique weaved his way to the door. ‘I’ll be off then. If you’re not joining me, doubtless I’ll see you back in Córdoba.’

Appalled though he was, Inigo kept his voice cool. ‘Enrique, don’t do this.’ Somehow, he must get Enrique to listen to reason.

‘I will have my revenge.’ Enrique’s voice was slurred and his eyes unfocused. ‘I admit I can’t take all three of them, but at least one Princess will be coming with me.’

‘You would despoil an innocent girl? You talk of honour—what of your chivalric vows? You make me ashamed to be a knight.’

Enrique’s laugh echoed around the chamber, harsh and ugly. ‘A Nasrid princess has no innocence. And she certainly won’t when I’ve finished with her.’

‘No woman should be forced, innocent or otherwise,’ Inigo said tightly. He felt like throttling the man. ‘Enrique, have you forgotten you are married?’

‘Your point being?’

‘How would Lady Berengaria feel?’

‘She’ll never find out.’

‘And that makes it right?’

Enrique gave an incoherent reply and fell clumsily against the door frame.

Inigo’s squire had listened to their exchange with wide, shocked eyes. Inigo exchanged looks with him, gestured for a drying cloth and climbed out of the pool.

When sober, Enrique was a foolhardy bully. Half soused, he wasn’t likely to be very effective. His plans would surely come to nothing. Notwithstanding, Inigo wasn’t prepared to take any risks. Peace between the Emirate of Granada and the Kingdom of Castile was shaky at best. If, by some miracle, Enrique managed to spirit away even one of the Nasrid Princesses, there’d be hell to pay.

Enrique straightened as though struck by a sudden thought. ‘Inigo, about my lady wife, there’s something in what you say, she mustn’t hear of this. Give me your word you’ll say nothing.’

Half an eye on Enrique, Inigo tossed the drying cloth at Guillen and dragged on fresh clothes. ‘It’s simple, forget the entire idea.’

‘Never. I will have vengeance.’

Realising outright confrontation with Enrique would achieve little, Inigo reached for his sword belt. Apart from the Princesses’ largesse, Inigo and his companions had been surviving on siege rations. If he could get decent food into Rodrigo’s cousin, perhaps he’d see sense. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. We could have supper before you set out.’

Enrique looked blearily at him. ‘You’re offering to pay?’

‘Certainly.’ The price of a meal in a tavern was as nothing compared to the havoc that would ensue if a Castilian knight abducted a Nasrid princess. ‘If you wait a moment, we can go together.’

‘Where are you headed?’

‘I am reliably informed that the best local tavern lies about a mile outside the town,’ Inigo said. ‘The Black Sheep.’

‘The Black Sheep.’ Enrique laughed and fumbled for the door latch. ‘How appropriate. Very well, I accept. See you later.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ Inigo frowned, he didn’t want to let Enrique out of his sight, he didn’t trust him an inch. ‘Allow me to settle up here, we can go together.’

He also needed a moment to leave a message for Rodrigo. Rodrigo would want to know about his cousin’s latest folly, he would object to this plan as much as Inigo. Sir Enrique de Murcia couldn’t be allowed anywhere near the three Princesses.

Enrique shook his head. ‘I’ve had my fill of this place, I’ll see you at the inn.’

‘Good grief, Enrique, you can surely wait until I’m dressed!’

He spoke to an empty doorway.

Tension balling in his gut, Inigo asked Mo to look out for Rodrigo and his squire, making sure Mo understood to give them clear directions to The Black Sheep.

‘Mo, his name is Rodrigo Álvarez, Count of Córdoba. Please be sure he understands it’s the best inn hereabouts and that I shall meet him there.’

Mo smiled. ‘Certainly, my lord.’

‘My thanks.’ Inigo strode into the lamplit street praying that Enrique would wait for his supper. The sooner Inigo got to that inn, the better he would feel.

Guillen cleared his throat. ‘You wish to leave straight away, my lord?’ His eyes were shadowed and his voice anxious. ‘Didn’t you mention a barber?’

Inigo ran his hand ruefully through his hair and beard. ‘That will have to wait, we need to find that inn with all speed. I feel uneasy leaving Sir Enrique on his own.’

A line formed on his squire’s brow. ‘We—that is I—may have to delay. I’m sorry, my lord, one of Raven’s shoes was loose. I asked a groom to take him to a blacksmith to shoe him.’

‘A smith is working at this hour?’ Inigo asked, coming to an abrupt halt outside the stable. They ought to hurry. Left on his own, Enrique was a liability. However, Guillen looked so woebegone, Inigo didn’t have the heart to chastise him. ‘Hell burn it, Guillen, you’re not to blame, horses often cast shoes, but the timing couldn’t be worse. With Enrique set on revenge, anything might happen. I wanted to sober him up with food.’

‘I know, my lord, and I’m sorry.’ Guillen brightened. ‘If you go ahead, I can meet you later.’

Inigo shook his head, the idea of leaving his squire alone in Granada while he went tearing after Enrique didn’t sit well with him. ‘No, lad, we only have one letter of safe conduct. We’d best stick together.’

Inigo collected his horse, Soldier, and he and Guillen were soon at the smithy. Irritatingly, the blacksmith was deep in conversation with a neighbour and Guillen’s horse wasn’t ready. It was necessary for Inigo to impress upon the man that speed was of the essence. A gold dinar did the trick, and while they were waiting for Raven to be shod, they called for more lamps and Guillen was able to act as Inigo’s barber.

At length, Inigo and Guillen hauled themselves on to their horses and took to the road. The whole operation had taken far longer than Inigo had anticipated. He could only pray that Enrique had fallen into a stupor at the inn.

The lights of the town faded, and moonlight became their guide. The road was a silver thread winding through groves of orange and olive. The air hummed with cicadas.

Eventually, stronger lights gleamed, they had reached The Black Sheep. A small area of scrub had been roped off and was serving as a paddock for the tavern’s customers. A couple of old men—grooms presumably—sat beneath a tree, guarding a handful of horses. Enrique’s wasn’t among them.

Inigo held in a groan. ‘Guillen, this doesn’t look good.’

‘No, my lord.’

Leaving their mounts with the grooms, Inigo and Guillen went into the inn. It was crammed to the rafters with big-bellied, prosperous-looking men in fine brocades. Merchants. A couple of shepherds huddled in a corner. The noise was deafening.

No Enrique. And no sign of his squire, either. The innkeeper, a cloth about his waist, approached and greeted them in Arabic.

‘My apologies, I don’t understand,’ Inigo said, over the din. The smell of roasted chicken filled the air and his stomach growled. ‘Do you speak Spanish?’

The innkeeper shook his head and gestured towards the serving hatch where a boy was filling bowls from a blackened cauldron.

The boy joined them. ‘Sir?’

‘I am looking for a friend, a knight. He would have had his squire with him.’

‘They are Castilian?’ The boy hesitated. ‘And the knight had been drinking?’

Inigo grimaced. ‘You could say that.’

‘They have gone, sir.’

‘When?’

‘Not long.’

‘Which direction did they take?’

‘I heard them mention the Alhambra Palace.’

Dear Lord, Enrique had a death wish. Inigo snatched a hunk of bread from a tray and tossed it at his squire.

‘Guillen?’

‘My lord?’

‘Get back outside. Stop them unsaddling the horses and keep an eye out for Rodrigo. If he arrives, don’t let him dismount. I’ll grab provisions and follow you.’

His squire dashed off and Inigo secured a couple of bundles of food—chicken, bread and cheese. Lord, this was supposed to be his first night of freedom and it looked as though he was going to have to spend it preventing Rodrigo’s wretched cousin from despoiling an innocent girl.

Guillen reappeared. ‘My lord, Count Rodrigo has arrived.’

Inigo left the inn. Seeing Rodrigo and his squire were still mounted, he let out a breath of relief. Thank God for reliable friends.

‘Take this.’ He thrust a food bundle at Rodrigo. ‘Save it for later.’

‘Later?’ Rodrigo frowned. ‘Inigo, what in hell’s going on?’

‘Enrique’s in trouble again.’ Inigo said, hauling himself into the saddle.

‘Madre mía, this must stop. Last time we rushed to Enrique’s rescue, Diego died. Cousin or no, I’ve no wish to see him again.’

Inigo nodded. Diego’s death had upset him, and he could only begin to imagine the depth of Rodrigo’s grief. What must it be like to lose a beloved younger brother? His jaw tightened. ‘We have no choice.’

Rodrigo’s expression was bleak. ‘Don’t we? Enrique never learns, as far as I’m concerned, he can stew in his own juice.’

‘Not this time.’

‘What’s he done?’

‘He’s drunk.’

Rodrigo looked at him. ‘Is that all? Good grief, given the conditions we’ve endured, you can hardly blame him for that.’ He glanced meaningfully at the tavern. ‘I wouldn’t mind a drink myself.’

‘If only it were as simple as that,’ Inigo said. Trusting Rodrigo and the squires to follow, he dug in his spurs and cantered on to the road that led back to the Alhambra Palace. The lights of the inn fell back, they would have to rely on the moon.

Rodrigo soon caught up. ‘Slow down, man. What’s going on?’

‘Enrique’s been muttering about revenge all day. Wants to make the Sultan pay for treating us like slaves.’

Rodrigo swore. ‘There’s no way he can get to Sultan Tariq, the palace is a fortress and he rarely leaves it. Not to mention that entire battalions answer to the Sultan’s command and we are in his heartlands. Leave it, Inigo. My cousin can get himself out of the mire this time.’

Inigo grimaced. ‘You wouldn’t be so sanguine if you knew what he was planning.’

‘Surprise me.’

‘He’s going to abduct the Sultan’s daughters.’

‘What? That’s insane.’

‘I assure you, it’s true. Enrique’s going to lure them out of that tower.’

‘They’d never leave the palace.’

Inigo raised his eyebrows and, voice filled with doubt, Rodrigo repeated himself. ‘No, they’d surely never leave the palace.’

‘Rodrigo, hear me out. Enrique has made contact with someone inside the palace, a maidservant or duenna of some kind, I believe. It’s already arranged. The Princesses want to run away. They’re to meet your cousin tonight.’

‘What? We’ve only been released a day, how on earth has Enrique managed to organise it in that time?’

‘He didn’t give me any more details.’

‘You’re certain it’s tonight?’

‘That’s what he said. Rodrigo, your cousin’s a madman when the drink is in him.’

Rodrigo grunted in acknowledgement. ‘Unfortunately, he’s a madman with a will of iron.’

‘Well, he’s after vengeance tonight, and he’s decided the Sultan’s daughters will give it to him. I’ve never seen him quite so set on anything.’

‘I’ll thrash him when I see him,’ Rodrigo said curtly. ‘Those Princesses are very young. Sheltered. What do you reckon he’s after, ransom? You don’t think he’d harm them?’

Inigo gave a harsh laugh. ‘His reputation with women is not good.’

‘He’s a married man.’

‘Don’t make the mistake of judging your cousin by your standards. Enrique is roaring drunk and he wants revenge.’

A muscle flickered in Rodrigo’s jaw. ‘If my cousin carries off just one of the Sultan’s daughters, he could set off a minor war. And I’m not just referring to here in Al-Andalus. If Enrique’s father-in-law believes my cousin has slighted his daughter by carrying off a Nasrid princess, he will never forgive him. Enrique must be stopped. When did he set out?’

‘He’d gone when I got here. The innkeeper says he left about an hour ago.’

‘I take it he took his squire with him?’

‘Aye.’

Inigo and Rodrigo gave their horses the spur and they and their squires flew into the night.