I understood then how I was to use the time I was being granted. Settling back on my bed, I pulled the table close and, propping the book on my knees, turned to the first page and began to read.

Twenty-six days out from Cyprus, Persephone passed the Pillars of Hercules, leaving the calm blue waters of the Mediterranean behind and entering the green-grey foam-traced depths of the cold Atlantic. Almost at once, the fair warm weather changed. Brilliant blue, cloudless skies gave way to low, heavy grey ceilings of endless overcast; cold winds gusted out of the north-west, kicking up a rough chop which hammered the prow and kept the ship pitching and lurching from crest to trough for days on end.

No stranger to heavy seas, Haemur reduced the sail-once, and then again-and kept a firm hand on the tiller and an experienced eye on the heavens. When the rain and mist finally cleared, the Iberian coast came into view. Two days later they sighted the entrance to the great shallow salt-water bay which the locals called the Sea of Straw.

Weary of the wind and rain and bouncing deck, Cait gladly gave the command to make landfall, and in a little while they came in sight of Lixbona, with its wide and busy harbour tucked into the curved arm of coastline on the Tagus river. The white Moorish city, rising on terraced hills, glistened in the sun with a fresh, rain-washed gleam. The air seemed sharper, more invigorating, too-heralding an early autumn, Cait thought.

Persephone's eager passengers stood on the deck as the ship passed through the narrows and into the bay, and watched the city grow larger as more of the gently undulating hills were revealed to them. 'There is the al-qasr,' said Abu Sharma, pointing to the citadel sitting square atop the steep promontory overlooking the harbour.

'Do you know this place?' wondered Rognvald.

'No,' he said, and explained that the word simply meant 'fortress' in Arabic. 'And, look, there is the central mosq.' He pointed to a large, domed building with a tall, pointed tower rising beside it like a finger pointing towards Heaven. But the tower, or minaret, as he called it, was topped by a large wooden cross, and another had been erected in the centre of the mosq's bulging dome. For when the city fell to the Christians there had been no gross destruction; instead, the practical people of Lixbona merely converted the Muslim buildings to new uses: the fortress became the king's palace, and the mosqs were made into churches.

Thus, Lixbona resembled a true Damascus of the north: wide marketplaces, covered bazaars, mosqs, synagogues, and chapels scattered among the tall, white-washed houses with their elaborate screened balconies and flat roofs, on which families gathered after the day's work was finished. And like Damascus, it was a city of brisk commerce, too. The rolling brown Tagus was a well-travelled road along which the people of the fertile southern valley shipped grain, meat, wine, and green produce all the way from the craggy Sintra mountains to the coast.

Upon reaching the great river harbour, Haemur could find no berths along the huge timber wharf, so took a place among the ships anchored in the bay; while the seamen made Persephone secure, the others prepared to go ashore. After a few attempts, the knights succeeded in attracting the attention of a ferryman, who took them to the wharf. It was the first landfall since leaving Cyprus and it took some time to get used to solid, unmoving ground beneath their feet. For the knights, the day began and ended at the first alehouse they encountered on the street leading up from the harbour. Meanwhile, Cait and Alethea, accompanied by Olvir and Otti, purchased fresh provisions to be delivered to the ship. That finished, and with no wish to hurry back, they walked along the market stalls and marvelled at the variety of goods. Feeling generous, Cait allowed Alethea to buy a sky-blue beaded shift and mantle, and gave Olvir and Otti a similar amount to spend on two used, but serviceable, daggers. Ever since the knights began their arms training, she had noticed how the seamen lusted after their Norse companions' handsome weapons, and considered it would be no bad thing to arm her sailors as well.

By evening, they were back aboard the ship, and remained in the harbour for the night. Having discovered the Norsemen's fondness for ale, Cait thought it best to move on as quickly as possible, putting out to sea again at first light the next morning to continue their journey north along the coast. The evening of the second day, they arrived at Porto Cales, where again they stopped for the night. Haemur's chart was good, but not so exact that he felt confident to navigate the treacherous, often lethal waters of the rock-strewn coast ahead; he wanted to talk to the local fishermen and find out all he could about their destination. So they put in for the night and, while Abu and Haemur, with chart in hand, spent most of the next day conversing with the boat owners and sailors of the town, the others prowled the marketplaces-except for Svein, Dag, and Yngvar, who prowled only as far as the waterfront inn and remained blissfully occupied drinking ale until Rognvald came and fetched them back to the ship.

'The best counsel, my lady,' reported Haemur on his return, 'is to go up coast to Pons Vetus and hire a guide for the way ahead.'

'There are many ways to Santiago de Compostela,' Abu put in. 'The entire city is a shrine to Saint James the Great and many pilgrims come there to reverence his bones. It is second only to Jerusalem, they say.'

'Can we go and see it?' asked Thea. 'Oh, Cait, can we?'

Ignoring her, Cait said, 'And did anyone happen to mention which of the many ways to the city we should take?'

'The best way for us is by river,' answered Abu. 'They say the river is wide and deep enough to take the ship, but the channels can be difficult for the unwary.'

'It will cost a little,' Haemur said, 'and no doubt I could do it myself if pressed to it. But if it please you, my lady, I would feel better for the use of someone who knows the water hereabouts.' He paused, then added, 'Your father would not thank me to wreck his beloved Persephone and forsake you and your lady sister in a foreign land.'

'Nor would I, Haemur,' replied Cait. 'But thanks to you, I am certain that will not happen. I am happy to trust in your good judgement.'

'Very good, my lady. God willing,' he said, as if resigning himself to an irksome task, 'I will take on a guide at Pons Vetus.'

Two days later, that is what they did. The fisherfolk of the busy little port knew the region well, and when it was discovered there was silver to be had for showing the strangers the way, Haemur had no end of offers from which to choose. Eventually, he decided on a man of mature age, like himself, who had for many years fished the coastal waters and supplied the Galician markets with his catches.

'Wise you are,' the fisherman told them when he came aboard at sunrise the next morning. 'To many folk the river is just a river. They learn otherwise to their disadvantage. The Ulla is chancy -especially above the bend. But never fear, Gines will see you safe to port without a worry.'

With that, the old seaman took his place beside Haemur; and although neither man could comprehend the other, with Abu and Olvir's help, and much use of the signs, nudges, and nods recognized by sailors the world over, the two men soon formed a rough understanding of one another. Gines directed the old Norse pilot around the peninsula, and up through the scattered rocks and islets on the other side. It was slow work, and the tide was out by the time they reached the river mouth. 'It will be dark before the water is high enough again,' Gines told them. 'The weather is going to change. We will find no better place to stay tonight. If you are asking me, I would say to drop anchor right here and proceed when it is light-weather permitting.'