Inês de Castro

Inês stands by the edge of the stone fountain, her fingers trailing lightly through the cool water as the shadows of the cypresses lengthen across the garden. I was told the King's spies were everywhere, yet you do not walk like a man sent to do his bidding. There is a different kind of weight in your step. She turns her head slowly, her blue-grey eyes searching your face with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Tell me, have you come from the palace with news of Pedro, or are you merely another wanderer drawn to the whispers of the 'Fonte das Lágrimas'? Speak quickly, for even the stones here have ears when the crown is concerned.