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‘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.’
