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XXVIII

It was a huge relief for Harry to get out of the chaotic confines of the audience chamber and into the clear Spanish air. He still had his sister in his arms. Geoffrey stood by him, panting with shock and fear.

The army camp was in chaos. The attempt on Isabel's life had been like a stick thrust into a beehive. Soldiers ran everywhere. There were screams, and the crack of arquebuses. Muslims, who an hour ago had been able to go about their business unmolested, now ran for their lives. It was a grim irony, Harry thought, that it had been a Muslim who in fact had saved the Christian Queen, and a Christian who had tried to kill her.

'But I don't understand,' he said. 'I don't understand.'

'Evidently Grace didn't know of Ferron's scheme with Agnes,' Geoffrey said grimly. 'Our opponents didn't even trust each other! Grace saw she was losing the argument, Harry. She saw we were winning. And that couldn't be allowed. She was a woman who had come to need her murderous war, the glory of her weapons. She would even impersonate a Muslim, she would murder the greatest Christian queen, in order to win the argument – and to provoke needless slaughter.'

'And Abdul-'

'Abdul, in that flash as the blade descended towards Isabel, saw the opposite. The Moors are already defeated, here in Spain; Boabdil, for all he is despised, is doing a decent job of negotiating a surrender with honour. But if Isabel had been killed Fernando and his soldiers would have vented their fury on Granada. And in the east, the sultans would have responded to such a massacre as they have always threatened to do, beginning with reprisals against the Christians in Jerusalem, and against our holy sites.'

'And then the holy war would have been inevitable.'

'Yes. Abdul saw it all in a flash. He gave his life to save a Christian monarch, and to avert global disaster.'

'We have all spoken of such possibilities,' Harry said. 'But it was Abdul who acted.'

'He was a better man than either of us,' Geoffrey murmured, calming. 'He has saved countless lives, beginning with Isabel's. Perhaps he has saved the future.'

Something in the sky caught Harry's eye. It was like a bird, yet massive, more ungainly, high in the air. And it was spinning, spinning towards the ground, as if it had broken a wing.

'Is that a man? Is that James of Buxton? Are men meant to fly, Geoffrey?'

'If so, not here, not now.'

The fragile contraption, all struts and feathers, tumbled down, out of sight. It didn't seem to matter. Harry held Agnes close, murmuring to her, longing for her to wake from her drugged stupor.