She then climbed aboard the waiting Persephone to be welcomed by Olvir, who had been left behind to watch over the vessel in her absence.

'Are you certain they are knights?' wondered the seaman, observing the Norsemen as they clambered on to the deck. 'They look more like pig thieves.'

'They have been in prison,' Cait informed him. 'How do you think you would look if you had been left to rot in chains for three years?'

'Who is that dark one? Is he also one of ours?'

'That is Abu,' Cait replied. To prevent further discussion, she added: 'He is a physician and interpreter, and will prove very useful in dealing with the Arabs.'

Olvir counted the extra mouths that would need feeding every day. 'Maybe I can teach him to cook, too.'

Cait glanced at the sun, and then at the ships crowding the harbour; one of them caught her eye. Hanging from the top of its mast was a white flag bearing a crimson cross: a Templar ship. The sudden recognition brought her up short. She told herself that it was unlikely de Bracineaux was aboard that ship; even so, it served as an unwelcome reminder that the murderous commander had allies everywhere, and he would not be idle. Because of the knights' inability to travel at speed, it had taken far longer to reach the ship than she had anticipated and, seeing the Templar ship, she was loath to waste another moment.

'Show the men where they can stay, get them some water to drink, and fetch some soap so they can wash,' she told Olvir, making up her mind at once. 'Then make ready to sail.'

'This late? My lady, the day is soon over,' protested Olvir. 'We have few provisions and little fresh water on board. Let us leave tomorrow when all is in order.'

'Will no one obey a simple command without crossing swords?' Cait scowled at the obstinate sailor. 'I want to depart as soon as Haemur and Otti return from the marketplace. Now go and do as I say.'

A grumbling Olvir hurried off, and Cait went to her quarters to wash and change her clothes. It was cool and dark below deck, which she found soothing after days in the relentless sun. She undressed and laved the water over herself. There was a little soap left, and a clean cloth, and she luxuriated in scrubbing her face and washing her hair. Most of the water in the basin ended up on the floor before she was finished, and when Alethea came in she complained of the puddles. But if she had made ten times the mess and used up a week's supply of water, Cait would not have cared: it was well worth the delicious thrill of being clean again.

She dressed in fresh linen and, feeling civilized once more, left Alethea to bathe, and returned to the upper deck. The Norsemen had assembled and were stamping their feet on the planking, pounding the rail and mast with their fists, and remarking on the admirable qualities of the ship.

Presently, Haemur and Otti appeared with armfuls of provisions for the evening meal. They had bought bread and wine and olives in the market, and a sack full of sardines from a fisherman just returning with the day's catch. Cait commanded the knights to clean the fish, and the seamen to help Olvir cast off.

Rognvald heard the order and came to her. 'I thought we were to buy clothes and weapons in Tyre.'

'I have changed my mind.'

'I think you should reconsider. This is a good place; the city is secure and the markets are renowned. We can get everything we need here.'

'We can get what we need in Cyprus, too. We will stop there.'

'And what if we should be overtaken by Arab pirates before we reach Cyprus?' he enquired.

She had not thought of that, but was determined not to let Rognvald have the last word. 'As we are sailing by night, the pirates will never see us.'

'It is a foolish risk,' he told her. 'If it was my ship, I would not put her, or her passengers, in such needless danger.'

He turned and walked away, leaving Cait furious with him for the second time in as many days. While Svein and Dag gutted the sardines, the others helped Olvir, Otti and Haemur make the ship ready to sail. In a little while, sleek Persephone slipped her moorings and moved out of the harbour. Despite what Rognvald said, Cait was glad to be aboard ship and under sail again.

Once they had entered deep water, Olvir began preparing the charcoal brazier to cook their meal. Soon the deck was awash in the sweet scent of oily smoke and charcoal, and the sardines were sizzling on spits. One by one, the Norsemen were drawn away from the rail and their last lingering looks at the pale Syrian hills, now glowing red in ihe light of a crimson sunset. They gathered around the brazier, watching the fish hungrily. Olvir opened the wine jugs, and soon the wooden cups were making the rounds. While his men sampled the raw Syrian wine, Rognvald strolled around the ship, examining the fittings and ropes.

After their unpleasant exchange, Cait hesitated to join him, but then considered it would make shipboard life too awkward to be avoiding one another every time they disagreed. So, she followed him to the prow where he had stopped and was gazing out to sea. 'My father loved this ship,' Cait remarked, joining him at the rail. 'So much, in fact, that he had two more built just like it. Still, he preferred the original.'

'I can see why,' the Norwegian lord replied amiably. 'She is a handsome craft – suitable for most any water, I should think.'

Otti appeared with his jug of wine and wooden cups. 'It is not so bad, this,' he said, pouring wine into the cups.

'To your good health,' said Cait, raising her cup.

'And freedom,' added Rognvald.

'Health and freedom.' Cait took a mouthful of the wine and almost spat it back into her cup. She swallowed hard and gasped.

Rognvald smiled placidly. 'It is somewhat rough, I think.'

'It is ghastly!'

'Perhaps it would be better mixed with a little honey and water,' he said. 'Permit me.' Taking her cup, the Norseman walked to where the others were dosing their drinks to taste. She observed him among his men: genial and unassuming, his authority genuine, and therefore unpretentious and unaffected.

Perhaps I have not made such a poor bargain after all, she thought to herself as she watched him returning.

'Try this,' he said, offering her the cup. 'I think you will find it more palatable.'

She took a tentative sip; he watched her reaction. 'Oh, that is much better. Very much better.' She thanked him, and they both sipped from their cups. 'If Galician wine is half so good, we should not go thirsty.'

'Is that where we are going?' he asked. 'Galicia?'

Realizing she had said more than she intended, Cait looked at him over the rim of her cup. Well, it was no use denying it now. 'Yes,' she told him. 'After Cyprus we sail for Galicia. Do you know it?'

'No,' he replied, shaking his head. 'We saw the coast from a distance, but the king was eager to reach Jerusalem, and so we did not stop.'

'I have never been there, either,' said Cait. 'My father was there once, on his way home from the Holy Land. He said it was a fine place-all steep hills, deep valleys, and rocks, a great many rocks. But the people, he said, were friendly to a fault.'

At that moment, Olvir called out, saying the supper was ready. Glad for a chance to break off a conversation which she did not care to pursue, Cait turned and walked to the platform before the mast where Olvir was handing around the wooden skewers. Accepting a fresh-roasted sardine, she retired with her cup and a piece of bread to the pilot's bench where she sat down to eat. The others remained clustered around the brazier, watching hungrily as Olvir set more skewers of fish on the coals. The knights, growing garrulous as the wine loosened their tongues, joked and laughed as they plied Olvir and Otti with questions about their homeland.

On the platform, Alethea sat with Abu and both appeared so deeply absorbed in their discussion that neither one was eating; the skewers were untouched in their hands. Cait was just thinking that she would have to have a word with Thea about encouraging an unseemly familiarity with the servants, when Rognvald approached and asked to join her.