Prologue
The girl took the strip of white silk from the king’s outstretched hand. She furrowed her dark brow and stuck her pink tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. With her little fingers, she tied a bow to the lowest branch of the thorny jujube tree. Then she froze. Her vivid blue eyes widened as she looked up from the silk, then to the king. Taking a sharp intake of breath and with an unwavering voice, she spoke.
‘Your lands reach far to the north and far to the south. You are a king from a far-off land. But it is all for naught, for you shall have no children. None will be born from you.’ The girl’s azure-blue eyes clouded over as she spoke, but she did not hesitate.
Clothed in a plain, worn tunic and a tattered shawl, an old woman, once busy tending to her bees in their straw hive, froze at the little girl’s words. The gentle buzz of her beloved insects filled her ears, as she slowly turned her gaze towards the Christian soldiers standing before her granddaughter, their hands resting on the hilts of their sword, as their chain mail glinted in the sunlight. As a gust of wind blew past her, she caught the familiar metallic scent on it, immediately her heart constricted as memories flooded back — the smell of sweat and blood that had haunted her every night since that traumatic day.
With trembling fingers, callused like the bark of the ancient tree her granddaughter stood under, she reached for her walking stick and turned to face them. Fear consumed her heart.
‘Sire.’ She limped towards them. ‘We humbly beg your pardon. We did not know. We did not realize. Please forgive us for our insolence and our lack of propriety.’ The old woman, pain etched on her face, fell to her knees, as her walking stick clattered to the ground. ‘The girl only plays a foolish game. There is no need to listen to her. She means nothing by her words.’
She remained kneeling on a carpet of little yellow flowers, their scent sweet and delicate as she clasped her hands together, beseeching. Her bottom lip trembled as bees buzzed lazily about her attracted by the delicate blooms, but she took no notice of them. Her eyes transfixed on the king’s face; his smile now gone.
‘If this is only a game she plays, let her play it.’
With a kind nod from King Richard, the elderly woman slowly rose to her feet, visibly wincing as she did so. Her wrinkled hands trembling slightly as she leaned heavily on her stick. There was a flicker of concern in her eyes as her gaze darted towards the young girl. The child looked at the old woman, who shook her head in reply, but nevertheless, the girl continued.
‘Your actions displease the Almighty. You have killed a great many people, and soon, you too will die. It is God’s will.’
‘Here?’ the king whispered, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The little girl turned to the tree and reached for the white silk, feeling it between her forefinger and thumb.
‘No, not here. But you will not finish what you have started. It will all be for nothing. Your brother will lose your lands. His actions and yours will change history.’
With a sudden burst of energy, the elderly woman lunged towards the girl and grabbed at her small hand, exposing a green silk scarf around her neck as she did so. Her tunic, worn and faded black, threatened to trip her up as she pulled the child away from the perceived danger.
The king stood transfixed by the words just uttered.
‘You must ask for help if you want to save your kingdom,’ the child called out, as she disappeared with the old woman into a cavernous opening, like a gaping wound, cut through in the solid side of the mountain.
