Carol Townend - The Princess's Secret Longing

‘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.’