'To be sure,' replied Rognvald easily. 'But sometimes, after a few friendly jars, a fellow begins to understand that there is more to life than gainful trade.'

'I see.'

'Anyway, Geldemar has more than enough gold, but very few friends.'

'At least not many who will drink with him in the middle of the day, I suppose.'

They returned to the ship to find the knights rolling up the mats and clearing the foredeck; that accomplished, they immediately set themselves to honing skills dulled by long captivity.

Cait decided to withdraw to her quarters below deck where it was cooler. 'Come, Thea,' she said, 'let us leave the men to practise their swordplay.'

When Thea made no reply, she looked to see her sister gazing raptly at the knights, who had stripped to the waist in the heat. 'He is handsome, is he not?' she said.

Cait saw where her sister was looking. Dag, his spare, muscular torso glistening with sweat, was lunging back and forth across the deck in a vigorous display of stab and thrust-as much for Alethea's benefit, Cait surmised, as for the drubbing of his invisible opponent.

'Thea, come away,' snapped Cait. Abashed at her sister's barefaced stare, she took the younger woman by the arm and pulled her down the steps. 'Have you no shame?' she demanded as soon as they were below deck. 'He is hired to do my bidding, and I will not have you making cow eyes at him.'

'I was never making cow eyes!' replied Thea, rigid with indignation. 'Not that you would know anything about it. You will die a dried-up old hag and have no one to blame but yourself.'

The remark was calculated to cut deep and it did. 'Take that back.'

'No.'

'Take it back!'

By way of reply, Thea screwed up her face in a sour expression of defiant disobedience. Before she knew it, Cait's hand snaked out and struck her on the cheek with a resounding slap. Without another word, Thea turned and disappeared into her chamber, slamming the door behind her.

Cait, upset and angry, stood fuming in the companionway, fighting down the urge to go in and throttle her sister. Instead, she returned to the upper deck, and was speaking with Haemur about the voyage ahead when Rognvald approached carrying a long cloth bundle in his hands.

'This is for you, my lady,' the tall Norseman said. Drawing aside the cloth wrapping, he presented her with a short, slender sword. 'It was made as a gift for Queen Melisende of Jerusalem, but was taken as loot when the baggage train that carried it was overrun by Saracens. Geldemar only recently acquired it.'

He placed the elegant, keen-edged blade in her grasp. It was half the size of a man's weapon, lighter, shorter, and balanced for a woman's hand. She swept it back and forth smartly. The quick, responsive weight sent an unexpected thrill through her. She had tried swords before-men's blades-and thought them cumbersome and ungainly.

'It is fine, is it not?' said Rognvald approvingly.

'A very marvel,' she murmured. With this blade, she thought, I will hold de Bracineaux to account.

'When Geldemar saw that I liked it for you, he insisted that you should have it.'

'In recognition of a wonderful new friendship, I should think.'

'No doubt,' agreed the knight.

Cait raised the sword before her face. The way the sunlight slid over its polished surface and danced along the razor-sharp edge brought a smile to her lips. 'You must teach me to wield it properly,' she said.

'It will be my very great pleasure,' said Rognvald, inclining his head.

Two days later, after fittings from both tailor and shoemaker, a visit to the barber for shaves and haircuts for the knights -who were finally beginning to look almost civilized again-and numerous deliveries by provisioners bringing wine and water by the cask, ground meal by the barrel, hard-baked bread, salted pork, fish and sausage, dried peas and beans and other staples, and delicacies such as honey, almonds, pepper, and ground spices-Haemur raised anchor and Persephone drifted slowly out into the bay. Once clear of the long spiny ridge of the headland, he unfurled the sails and they set out for the Pillars of Hercules and the rocky storm-fraught coasts beyond.

September 2, 1916: Edinburgh, Scotland

'Gentlemen, the time has come to appoint a new leader.'

It was Evans, our Second Principal, speaking in low, solemn tones which filled the Star Chamber with a sepulchral sound. 'The war which has already cost so many lives has claimed one more, and we now taste the grief of those who mourn throughout our nation. I tell you, brothers,' he said, looking to Pemberton's empty chair, 'it fills my mouth with bitter ashes.'

He turned his sorrowful gaze from Pemberton's place and said, 'The rule of our order dictates the terms by which the new leader is to be appointed. But before proceeding any further, we will observe a time of silence in honour of our fallen leader.'

We all bowed our heads and offered up the memory of that fine, noble man to the Allwise Creator in whose presence he now delighted. The silence in the room swelled to become a hymn of deepest admiration and the most profound esteem, a veneration beyond utterance.

I do not know how long it lasted, for time was overwhelmed by eternity and no longer held any meaning to me. I simply became aware that Evans was speaking, and once more returned, reluctantly, to the concerns of this world and the matter before us.

'Unless anyone has cause to object,' Evans was saying, 'we shall proceed in accordance with the directives established in the Rules of Order. I shall now read the pertinent portion from the Articles of Investment: "If it should happen that the First Principal shall die in office, the Second Principal shall hold in his stead the seal and charter of the Brotherhood of the Temple and the Order of the Sanctus Clarus until such time as the surviving members of the elect be met to nominate and appoint one from their number who shall assume the mantle of authority and resume the leadership of the Order, guiding its protection, preservation, advancement, and the furtherance of all its aims."'

Here the compact Welshman looked up. 'Hear me, all of you? Signify by saying, "Aye."' This we did, and he continued, 'I shall now read from the Articles of Initiation. "If it should be found that, prior to the election and investment of the First Principal, any of the Seven have not attained to the Master, or Final Degree Initiation, and unless any impediment shall be admitted, that initiation shall be offered without delay." Hear me, all of you? Signify by saying, "Aye."'

While we all affirmed our understanding, I did so in a slightly bemused state, for until that moment I had neither heard nor suspected there were any higher degrees than the one I now occupied, the Seventh. Despite the slightly archaic and abstruse language, it did not take a legal mind long to realize that Evans was talking about me. In other words, if the First Principal is to be elected from among the remaining members of the Inner Circle, then they must all be of equal rank and status. Obviously, I did not enjoy that particular rank.

Indeed, the very next instant he turned and addressed me personally. 'Brother Murray,' he said, 'I am mindful of your standing. Having attained the Seventh Degree, and having performed loyal and exemplary service since your investment, I declare before this assembly that you are deemed worthy of consideration for initiation into the Final Degree.'

Still slightly awed by the implications of Evans's announcement, I could only nod as Zaccaria hastened to ratify this astonishing declaration, saying, 'I stand as second to the initiation of our esteemed brother.'

'We recognize the sanction and affirmation of Brother Zaccaria,' Evans said. 'Therefore I must ask you, brothers, is it your will and pleasure that Brother Murray attain to the Final Degree? If so, please signify.'