〃Oh； Jad！ Don't start again。 I know what you always…
〃Say it。 Or I'll find my arrow again。 I promised myself I'd put an arrow in you the day I shot Garcia de Rada。 Two pinpricks hardly count。〃
〃Yes they do；〃 he said。 〃And those weren't pinpricks。〃 He stopped at what he read in her expression； then said quietly； 〃I know what you tell me。 That if I bed another woman you'll either bed another man or kill me。〃
She was smiling； as if encouraging a child's display of memory。 〃Good。 And since I don't want to bed another man 。。。 ？〃 she prompted。
Rodrigo sighed。 〃You'll kill me。 Miranda； I know this。 Will you let me up？〃
She seemed to be thinking about it at least； which was a positive development。
〃No；〃 she said； at length。 〃Not yet。 I think I like you this way。〃
〃What does that mean？〃 he asked； alarmed。
But she had shifted forward from where she was； beside him on her knees。 She looked appraisingly down at him a moment； then calmly tore open his shirt。 His eyes widened。 Her hands seemed to be busy with the points and drawstrings of his trousers。 It became difficult to breathe。
〃Miranda；〃 he said； 〃there's a rock under my back。〃
〃Oh well；〃 she murmured with exaggerated solicitude； 〃we can't have that； can we？〃 But she did reach under to remove what turned out to be a laughably small stone。
〃Untie me； love。 We'll do better if I'm free。〃
〃No； we won't；〃 said his joy； his torment； his wife； the fierce bright light of his days。 〃We'll do very well with you exactly as you are。〃
She had finished with his garments。 She began removing her own。
〃See what I mean？〃 she said； smiling down at his sex。 As she spoke； she slipped off her black tunic。 She was wearing nothing beneath。 Her small breasts were smooth and firm in the torchlight。
〃You see？〃 she said again。 He did； of course。
Eventually he closed his eyes； but not before an interval had passed during which a number of movements on her part took place； bringing him to a point where he couldn't have judged the passage of time； or anything else for that matter。
The torch had burned out by then； he knew that much。 There was nothing to see。 Only to feel。 Mouth and fingers。 Her teeth； in unexpected places。 The close； perfect shelter of her sex after so long。
〃Shall I let you go？〃 she asked eventually； a breath in his ear。
〃Never；〃 said Rodrigo； eyes still closed。
Still later； the white moon； descending； slanted through a wide chink in the wall boards and a beam of light fell upon them both。 He lay with Miranda upon him； her head on his chest； her dark hair loose； cloaking them both。 He felt the rise and fall of her breathing； and drew in the scent and the feel of her…intoxicating as unmixed wine。
〃Oh； well；〃 she murmured； as if continuing a dialogue。 〃I suppose we could use a good doctor。〃
〃I certainly could；〃 he said； with feeling。
That made her laugh。 At some point； though it was hard to mark the change； the laughter turned to tears。 He could feel them falling on his chest。
〃Two years is a long time；〃 she said。 〃Rodrigo； am I being unfair to you？〃
〃I don't expect to be two years without you；〃 he said。 〃One way or another。〃
She said nothing。 Her tears fell in silence。 He hesitated； then finally brought down his arms…he had worked free of the bonds in the first moments after being tied…and wrapped them around her。
〃Oh； burn you； Rodrigo；〃 she whispered； when she realized what he'd done； but she didn't say it severely this time。 A moment later； she murmured； dealing with the hardest sorrow of time passing； 〃They are so young。〃
He stroked her hair； down and down her back。
〃I know；〃 he whispered gently。 〃I know； my love。〃
He had killed his own first man when he was twelve。 He didn't tell her that。 Not now。
〃Are they still in the hut？〃 Fernan asked。
〃Uh…huh；〃 said Diego。
〃What do you think they're doing？〃
〃Now； now；〃 said Ibero the cleric hastily。 〃That isn't a proper question！〃
〃I couldn't answer it； anyhow；〃 said Diego； laughing。 〃Ibero； you look genuinely formidable； by the way。〃
Their longtime cleric's expression was uncertain for a moment； then guardedly pleased。 He was indeed remarkably altered： his face daubed with mud under a black hat； garbed like an outlaw； with inserts in new riding boots to make him taller。
Fernan had made Ibero practice speaking in deep tones and walk around in those boots for days； to get used to the speech and the movement。 Their cleric and tutor had been； improbably； the leader of the band that captured Rodrigo。 The boys had remained out of sight； downriver with the horses。 The other outlaws had been ranch hands； disguised as Ibero had been； under orders not to speak a word。 They had gone back to the pound already。 Now the three of them； two boys and a holy man； sat together on the dark grass under two moons and the stars of the summer night。
〃You really think we deceived him？〃 the cleric asked。
〃What？ Papa？ Don't be silly；〃 said Fernan； with an amused glance。
〃He'll have figured it out from at least half a dozen things we missed；〃 said Diego happily。 The boys smiled at each other。
The cleric's face fell。 〃He will have known us？ Then what was the point of the deception？〃
〃He'll tell us the half a dozen things。 We'll know better next time；〃 Fernan explained。
〃Besides；〃 said Diego； 〃Mother wanted to stab him with an arrow。〃
〃Ah；〃 said the cleric。 〃That's right。 I forgot。〃 He had been with this family a long time。
They decided to ride back to the ranch house。 There was no telling how long Rodrigo and Miranda would remain in that hut。 On the way back Fernan began； predictably； to sing。 He had an atrocious voice； normally cause for decisive quelling； but neither of the others plained that night。 Under the two moons the huge darkness was eased and made weling。 They could see the mountains far in the distance and the wide stretch of the plain to north and south and rolling west behind them and then； a little later； they caught sight of the torches left burning on the wall around the pound； to bring them all home from the night。
Part III
Seven
〃Well then；〃 said Almalik of Cartada； the Lion of Al…Rassan； 〃where is he？〃
The king was angry。 The signs were obvious to those in the vast and vaulted chamber。 Beneath the horseshoe arches with their red and amber interplay of stone； men exchanged uneasy glances。 Courtiers and artists in attendance upon a monarch known for his changing moods learned quickly how to read those changes。 They watched as the king snatched an orange from a basket held by a slave and began rapidly peeling it himself with his large； capable hands。 Those same hands had swung the sword that killed Ishlik ibn Raal not three months ago in this very room； spattering the poet's blood across the mosaic tiles and marble pillars and the clothing of those standing too close that day。
The young； increasingly acclaimed Tudescan poet had made the mistake of inserting two lines from another man's writing in his own verse； and then denying that he'd done so deliberately。 Almalik of Cartada； however； knew his poetry and prided himself upon that。 In the Al…Rassan of the city…kings after the fall of the Khalifate a distinguished poet could confer anxiously sought credibility upon a monarch。
And for fifteen years； Almalik's principal counsellor； and then the formally declared advisor and guardian of his eldest son and heir； had been that paragon of many arts； Ammar ibn Khairan of Aljais。 Who had written； most unfortunately for Ishlik ibn Raal； the two stolen lines in question。 And of whom； at this precarious moment； three months after； the king was speaking。
〃Where is he？〃 Almalik asked again。
The attendant court figures； some thirty of them on this particular morning； found much to interest them in the geometries of the ceiling decoration or the mosaics of the floor。 No one in the room was looking directly at the king； or at the man to whom he spoke。 Only the one woman there； sitting among brightly colored cushions arranged near those of the king's dais； preserved an unperturbed demeanor； lightly plucking at her lute。