have never seen them flying together before. They circle over the body, round and round, faster and faster, like a whirlpool of black water. I try to flap them away, but they will not be deterred. They keep spinning round the man, as if they are trying to bind him in ropes of smoke.
I become aware of another sound, like the frightened scream of some tiny dying creature. One of the beetles alights on my shoulder. I try to shake it off, but the scream rises higher and higher, until my eyes water from the pain of it.
‘Let him die, Eydis. Do not touch him. Let him die. He must die.’
The voice is so faint, so high-pitched, that I can scarcely make out the words. But I recognize that voice. I would have sworn it was my own, yet it is so far off I know it is not coming from my head.
I turn to try to catch the beetle in my hand, but the man suddenly screams as if he is being torn in two. His body convulses in agony. Beneath his closed eyelids, I can see his eyes flicking back and forth as if he is trapped in a terrible nightmare. I have to help him. I cannot simply leave a man to die. I might not be able to save him, but at least I can make his last hours comfortable.
I cross to the underground pool, pulling my chain behind me, and scoop out a bowl of hot water. Then, returning to the injured man, I moisten a rag intending to wipe his bloody lips. The black beetles stop circling. They fly up and swarm about my face, their sharp wings scratching and beating against my skin. I raise one arm to fend them off, while with the other I lay the wet rag to his face.
The instant I touch him with my fingers, the beetles scatter, scuttling back beneath their rocks, vanishing as if they are fleeing from a predator. I stretch out my hand again to wipe the bloodied face when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving. A huge shadow is oozing over the wall behind the body of the man, spreading like a dark stain until the whole side of the cave is engulfed by it. I cannot move. The shadow bursts from the rock and roars across the cave, snuffing out the burning torches as if the flames have been doused with water. The cave is plunged into darkness and silence.
A tiny shrill voice echoes around me. ‘Sister, my sister, what have you done? You have betrayed me, Eydis. You have damned me!’
Chapter Four
When the French King Philip II was laying siege to Acre, his prize gyrfalcon broke its leash and flew up to perch on the city walls. He sent an envoy requesting the bird’s return, which, not surprisingly, was refused. The bird was delivered to the Saracen leader, Saladin, who was camped with his army outside the city.
Philip was so anxious for the bird’s return that he dispatched a procession to Saladin accompanied by trumpeters, heralds and envoys offering 1,000 gold crowns for the safe return of the gyrfalcon. Saladin, however, regarded the capture of this white bird as a most auspicious omen for his troops and flatly refused to return it even for that sum.
Sintra, Portugal Isabela
Falcon – the female of any species of hawk, as opposed to the tiercel or male. It is also used to refer to the category of long-winged hawks in general.
The knock came again at dawn, four days after my father’s arrest, but this time it was for me. They’d only sent one soldier, for I was only a girl, what resistance could I offer? They hadn’t reckoned on my mother, who clung to me with the tenacity of an octopus. As soon as he had prised one hand off me, she clamped on somewhere else. In the end the soldier had to hold her off with the point of his sword.
‘Don’t be so eager to join your daughter, Senhora. Your turn will come all too soon and I promise you, then you will wish it hadn’t.’
He did not bind my wrists but instead gripped my upper arm and led me up the hill through the narrow twisting streets towards the king’s summer palace.
I was trying desperately to fight down my fear, though every muscle in my body was aching to tear myself from his grip and flee. The only