And yet, as much as she wanted the men to respect her, she also wanted her man to love and desire her, and, yes, though she hated to admit it, she wanted to look pretty for him. They had managed to snatch a single precious hour together a month earlier, when both had been called to a council of war. But even though they put every second they had together to the best possible use, and her longing for him was slaked at least for a short while, the reminder of the ecstasy that he could induce in her served only to make their subsequent parting even harder to bear. She never wanted anything whatever to come between them again. So although her sword and armour and military decorations were all stowed in her luggage that she would be bringing aboard, Judith herself wore a traditional Ethiopian dress of pure white cotton that fell to her ankles. The hem, sleeves and the neck were all decorated with bands of brightly coloured embroidery, bearing a pattern of golden crosses. There were necklaces of gold and amber beads around her neck and she wore circular golden earrings, with pearls at their centre.

      Her hair had been woven into braids that lay close to her scalp and over them she placed a headpiece formed of two finely worked strands of pearls and gold beads. One ran horizontally around her head and was linked to the other that ran from back to front, over the top of her head. A small gold and pearl brooch that matched her earrings lay at the centre of her forehead, just below her hairline, attached to both strands and holding them both in place. Finally Judith draped a shawl of white linen gauze over her head and across her shoulders as a mark of modesty. In private, she was willing to play the concubine, but in public, at least, her reputation would remain unsullied.

      She rode in a carriage to the port of Mitsiwa, escorted by a troop of the emperor’s mounted guard, all dressed in their finest ceremonial uniforms, with pennants bearing the lion of Ethiopia fluttering from their lances. The carriage halted by the dockside and the guard was immediately called upon to form a perimeter around it as a flock of locals rushed to cast eyes on their nation’s heroine, scarcely able to believe that the great Judith Nazet, who had become a figure of almost mythical glory in their eyes, could possibly be here, in person amongst them. One of the guardsmen dismounted and walked to the carriage door. He opened it and pulled down a set of steps. Then he stood back, so that all could see Judith as she emerged from within.

      At the very last moment, partly because she had anticipated that her arrival might draw a crowd, and partly because she wanted to give her people a reminder of the glorious victory in which they could all take pride – for many of the men had been in the army she commanded – Judith had decided to wear the sash bearing her many honours. As she stepped out into the open, the dazzling, mid-morning sunlight shone down upon her, and upon the gold, pearls, jewels and brightly enamelled and beribboned medals and awards with which she was adorned so that she seemed to sparkle and glow more like a goddess than a mortal woman. A sound rose from the crowd, less a cheer than an awed gasp. But though she smiled and waved to the people, Judith’s eyes and her heart were given to one man only.

      Hal Courtney stood waiting for her at the foot of the steps. Though he was the captain of a fighting ship, he wore no badge of rank. Though he, too, was entitled to call himself a member of the Order of the Golden Lion of Ethiopia, and held the rank of a Nautonnier Knight of the Temple of the Order of St George and the Holy Grail – the band of navigators whose origins lay in the medieval Knights Templar, to which he, like his father before him, belonged – he bore no medals nor badges of honour. Instead he stood there before her, with his hair tied back with a plain black ribbon, wearing a freshly laundered white shirt, loosely tucked into his black breeches and open at the neck. The gleaming fabric billowed a little in the gentle breeze, giving occasional hints of the lean, strongly muscled torso beneath it. At Hal’s hip hung his sword, a blade of Toledo steel, below a hilt of gold and silver, with a large star sapphire on its pommel that had been given to Hal’s great-grandfather by the greatest of all Elizabethan admirals, Sir Francis Drake himself.

      As she looked at her man, so filled with strength, and confidence and vigour, his face, which had looked almost stern as she first caught sight of it, broke into a grin filled with boyish glee, enthusiasm and unabashed desire.

      Judith had stood firm in the heat of battle. She had held her own in the council chamber against men twice or even three times her age, who towered over her in both physical stature and hard-won reputation. Neither they, nor her enemies, had ever intimidated her. And yet now, in the presence of Hal Courtney, she felt her legs weaken beneath her, her breath quicken and she was suddenly seized by such a feeling of light-headedness that if he had not stepped forward to take her in his arms, she might easily have fallen. She let him hold her for a second, letting herself enjoy the delicious sense of helplessness, barely hearing the cheers of the crowd, or even the words that Hal was saying over the beating of her heart.

      She was dimly aware that he was leading her through the mass of delirious townspeople, with guardsmen up ahead of them using their horses to force a path down to the jetty. She heard cheers for ‘El Tazar’ – the Barracuda – for that was the name by which Hal had come to be known as he preyed upon their enemy’s shipping. Then she held Hal’s hand as he guided her down the stone steps and said, ‘Be careful now, my darling,’ as she stepped onto the Golden Bough’s pinnace, an armed launch whose single sail was furled, though there was a man at every one of her eight oars and Big Daniel Fisher, Hal’s senior coxswain, was standing at the rudder.

      ‘Welcome aboard, ma’am,’ Big Daniel said. ‘I hope you won’t think me forward or nothing, but you’re the prettiest sight any of us have clapped eyes on in a very long time.’

      ‘Thank you, Daniel,’ said Judith with a happy little laugh. ‘I don’t think that’s forward at all.’ She looked around the boat and then asked Hal, ‘Where’s Aboli? I can’t believe he’d let you out of his sight on an occasion like this.’

      Hal gave a huge shrug, throwing his hands up as if to suggest complete bafflement and with an exaggerated look of wide-eyed innocence replied, ‘I don’t have a clue where he’s got to. You seen him, Daniel?’

      ‘No, sir, can’t say as I have.’

      ‘Anyone?’

      The crewmen shook their heads in a pantomime of ignorance and said no, they didn’t know either. It was obvious that they were up to something, but Judith was happy to play along with the game. ‘Well, I am sorry not to see him,’ she said, and then settled herself on a bench next to Hal as he ordered, ‘Cast off and take us back to the ship, please, cox’n.’

      ‘Aye-aye, sir,’ said Big Daniel who started barking out orders to the oarsmen to back them away from the jetty, before he swung the pinnace around and set a course to the Golden Bough which lay on the water, a couple of hundred yards or so ahead of them.

      ‘She looks beautiful,’ said Judith, watching Hal look towards his