The Castilian envoys arrived towards evening that same day with clean boots.
That was the first insult.
After rain, it was impossible to walk from the ditch without soiling one's boots. Either planks had been laid along the envoys' route in advance, or their footwear had been washed before they entered. The cleanliness was meant to be noticed.
The night's rain had ended quickly. It had washed the dust from the tiles, lifted refuse in the drains and left puddles in the courtyards from which even a goat would not have dared to drink. Water like that would not quench thirst.
Yusuf received them not at the Lion Fountain, but in an open courtyard where everyone could see their faces. It suited him to have as many people as possible hear the Castilians' offer.
Zulaykha came with the lesser seal hanging from a cord. Nura stood behind her. Rafiq stayed close to the wall, but did not leave. Elias brought his physician's bag, although no one had summoned him.
Íñigo was brought out without the iron on his wrist.
The removed chains were meant to display Yusuf's mercy, but in truth Íñigo was being paraded before the envoys as bait.
The first envoy was thin, with a scribe's face. The second held a piece of wood. The third led two men in rough cloaks. One was a carter; the other, judging by his palms, had dug earth all his life.
Yusuf began gently:
"Gonzalo de Mena renews his offer of mercy. His son returns to the camp. One stream will be opened for three days. If the city refuses, the northern water will be deemed closed by Granada's own will."
The crowd was silent. After the cries by the Darro, the promise of three days' water was worth more to them than gold.
Zulaykha looked at the piece of wood in the second envoy's hands.
A cracked stake.
Íñigo saw the stake too, and his whole body tensed.
The envoy with the scribe's face said:
"Yesterday the prisoner claimed that the stream of mercy would pass through a pit containing a dead mule covered with lime. His words have been investigated."
He took the stake and raised it over his head.
"Here is the middle stake. The very one he spoke of. The crack matches."
A whisper passed through the courtyard. The recovered stake confirmed Íñigo's words.
The envoy waited for the whispering to subside.
"But the pit has been cleared. The mule was removed with the surrounding earth, and the old lime replaced with fresh. The water will run through a clean ditch. Before you stand two of the men who did the work."
The carter crossed himself. The digger raised his right hand.
"Were you mistaken?" Yusuf asked Íñigo.
To answer yes would mean admitting that he had lied out of fear the day before.
To answer no would mean accusing of falsehood the men who had produced the very stake he had described.
Íñigo said, "They cleared the ditch during the night."
The envoy bowed.
"It rained during the night. The ditch was guarded. Our men are prepared to swear to it."
Zulaykha was not listening to the men. She was listening to the wooden stake.
A fresh, pale splinter protruded from the crack, while lower down, by the old hole, a thin dark streak showed. Not dirt or blood, but the greasy coating used to protect wood from water.
Gonzalo had cleared the ditch, but preserved the stake Íñigo had described and was now using it to make the rest of his son's words appear false.
"If the ditch is clean, why did you bring the stake instead of the water?" she asked.
The envoy smiled.
"Because the water will come after the exchange."
"Then you are asking the city to believe a dry piece of wood when it says that clean water will run through the ditch."
A cry of approval came from the crowd.
Yusuf cut in at once. "And you are asking the city to refuse three days' water on the word of a prisoner who calculated this very ditch for the enemy."
Some of the people turned towards Íñigo.
Íñigo spoke quietly to her, barely moving his lips:
"I did not lie."
"I know."
Íñigo looked at her in surprise.
"But the city does not know that," Zulaykha said.
Yusuf heard her.
"Then be wiser than the rest. Give up the prisoner and take the water. If it proves bad, we will close the stream."
Elias stepped forward.
"If the water proves bad, it will not be the stream we close, but children's eyes."
The envoy grimaced.
"Physicians are fond of frightening words."
"We simply see them come true."
Yusuf raised a hand to stop the argument.
"Daughter of Khalid, you hold the lesser seal. You may inspect Gonzalo's stream and give the city water. Or leave it closed and answer for the thirst."
The copper seal tugged at its cord against Zulaykha's chest.
She could not prove there was poison.
She could not prove that the ditch had been cleared that very night.
She could not call the envoys liars without water in the bowl.
But she could see how carefully the enemy had prepared this ditch for inspection.
"I will not surrender a man merely because his father managed to destroy the evidence," she said.
The whispering grew louder.
Rafiq suddenly shouted:
"What if they throw another dead animal in there tonight?"
A guard lunged towards him, but Nura was quicker. She shielded the boy with her shoulder.
Yusuf was not smiling.
"You choose the prisoner."
"I choose not to drink from someone else's promise until I have heard the water course itself."
The envoy wrapped the cracked stake in cloth.
"Then the camp of the kings will hear your refusal."
Íñigo watched the envoy carry the stake away. He did not look like a man who had been saved: his father had once again forced him to prove before everyone that he was not lying.
That night the water drained from the lower aljibe by itself.
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