Aliena fidgeted restlessly while the other servants stared at her openly. She had not learned patience, even on this interminable pilgrimage. After her disappointment at Compostela she had followed the road into the interior of Spain, to Salamanca. No one there remembered a redhaired young man interested in cathedrals and jongleurs, but a kindly monk told her that there was a community of English scholars at Toledo. It seemed a faint hope, but Toledo was not much farther down the dusty road, so she pressed on.

Another tantalizing disappointment had been waiting for her here. Yes, Jack had been here-what a stroke of luck!-but alas, he had already left. She was catching up with him: she was now only a month behind him. But, once again, nobody knew where he had gone.

In Compostela she had been able to guess that he must have gone south, because she had come from the east, and there was sea to the north and west. Here, unfortunately, there were more possibilities. He might have gone northeast, back toward France; west to Portugal; or south to Granada; and from the Spanish coast he might have taken ship for Rome, Tunis, Alexandria or Beirut.

Aliena had decided to give up the search if she did not get a strong indication of which way he had gone when he left here. She was bone-weary and a long way from home. She had very little energy or determination left, and she could not face going farther with no more than a faint hope of success. She was ready to turn around and go back to England, and try to forget about Jack forever.

Another servant came out of the white house. This one was dressed in more costly clothes and spoke French. He looked at Aliena warily but addressed her politely. “You are a friend of Mr. Jack?”

“Yes, an old friend from England. I would like to speak with Raschid Alharoun.”

The servant glanced at the baby.

Aliena said: “I’m a relative of Jack’s.” It was not untrue: she was the estranged wife of Jack’s stepbrother, and that was a relationship.

The servant opened the gate wider and said: “Please come with me.”

Aliena stepped inside gratefully. If she had been turned away here it would have been the end of the road.

She followed the servant across a pleasant courtyard, past a splashing fountain. She wondered what had drawn Jack to the home of this wealthy merchant. It seemed an unlikely friendship. Had Jack recited verse narratives in these shady arcades?

They went into the house. It was a palatial home, with high, cool rooms, floors of stone and marble, and elaborately carved furniture with rich upholstery. They went through two archways and a wooden door, and then Aliena had the feeling they might have entered the women’s quarters. The servant held up his hand for her to wait, then coughed gently.

A moment later a tall Saracen woman in a black robe glided into the room, holding a corner of her garment up in front of her mouth in a pose that was insulting in any language. She looked at Aliena and said in French: “Who are you?”

Aliena drew herself up to her full height. “I am the Lady Aliena, daughter of the late earl of Shiring,” she said as haughtily as she could. “I take it I have the pleasure of addressing the wife of Raschid the pepper seller.” She could play this game as well as anyone.

“What do you want here?”

“I came to see Raschid.”

“He doesn’t receive women.”

Aliena realized she had no hope of gaining this woman’s cooperation. However, she had nowhere else to go, so she kept trying. “He may receive a friend of Jack’s,” she persisted.

“Is Jack your husband?”

“No.” Aliena hesitated. “He’s my brother-in-law.”

The woman looked skeptical. Like most people, she probably assumed that Jack had impregnated Aliena, then abandoned her, and Aliena was pursuing him with the object of forcing him to marry her and support the child.

The woman half turned and called out something in a language Aliena did not understand. A moment later three young women came into the room. It was obvious from their looks that they were her daughters. She spoke to them in the same language, and they all stared at Aliena. There followed a rapid conversation in which the syllable Jack recurred often.

Aliena felt humiliated. She was tempted to turn on her heel and walk out; but that would mean giving up her search altogether. These awful people were her last hope. She raised her voice, interrupting their conversation, and said: “Where is Jack?” She intended to be forceful but to her dismay her voice just sounded plaintive.

The daughters fell silent.

The mother said: “We don’t know where he is.”

“When did you see him last?”

She hesitated. She did not want to answer, but she could hardly pretend not to know when she had seen him last. “He left Toledo the day after Christmas,” she said reluctantly.

Aliena forced a friendly smile. “Do you recall his saying anything about where he might be going?”

“I told you, we don’t know where he is.”

“Perhaps he said something to your husband.”

“No, he did not.”

Aliena despaired. She had an intuitive feeling that the woman did know something. However, it was clear that she was not going to reveal it. Aliena felt suddenly weak and weary. With tears in her eyes she said: “Jack is the father of my child. Don’t you think he would like to see his son?”

The youngest of the three daughters started to say something, but the mother interrupted her. There was a short, fierce exchange: mother and daughter had the same fiery temperament. But in the end the daughter shut up.

Aliena waited, but no more was said. The four of them just stared at her. They were unquestionably hostile, but they were so curious that they were in no hurry to see her go. However, there was no point in staying. She might as well get out, go back to her lodgings, and make preparations for the long journey back to Kingsbridge. She took a deep breath and made her voice cool and steady. “I thank you for your hospitality,” she said.

The mother had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

Aliena left the room.

The servant was hovering outside. He fell into step beside her and escorted her through the house. She blinked back tears. It was unbearably frustrating to know that her whole journey had failed because of the malice of one woman.

The servant led her across the courtyard. As they reached the gate, Aliena heard running footsteps. She looked back to see the youngest daughter coming after her. She stopped and waited. The servant looked uneasy.

The girl was short and slender, and very pretty, with golden skin and eyes so dark they were nearly black. She wore a white dress and made Aliena feel dusty and unwashed. She spoke broken French. “Do you love him?” she blurted.

Aliena hesitated. She realized she had no more dignity left to lose. “Yes, I love him,” she confessed.

“Does he love you?”

Aliena was about to say yes; then she realized she had not seen him for more than a year. “He used to,” she said.

“I think he loves you,” the girl said.

“What makes you say that?”

The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted him for myself. And I nearly got him.” She looked at the baby. “Red hair and blue eyes.” The tears ran down her smooth brown cheeks.

Aliena stared at her. This explained her hostile reception. The mother had wanted Jack to marry this girl. She could not have been more than sixteen, but she had a sensual look that made her seem older. Aliena wondered exactly what had happened between them. She said: “You ‘nearly’ got him?”

“Yes,” the girl said defiantly. “I knew he liked me. It broke my heart when he went away. But now I understand.” She lost her composure, and her face crumpled in grief.

Aliena could feel for a woman who had loved Jack and lost him. She touched the girl’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. But there was something more important than compassion. “Listen,” she said urgently. “Do you know where he went?”