'I confess I find it difficult to believe,' Archbishop Bertrano was saying. He looked from Cait to Rognvald, and shook his head. 'That a man like de Bracineaux should be cut down so cruelly… I am sorry; it is most untimely, and it saddens me greatly.'

'Nor are you alone in your grief,' offered Cait sympathetically. 'I have only recently lost my father.'

'Accept my deepest condolences, my child,' said the archbishop. 'More wine?'

He reached for the silver jar and filled all three cups, beginning with his own. He took a long draught and, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, said, 'Now then, I have been thinking about this letter you have mentioned. It can only be the letter I wrote and dispatched to the pope some time ago. Did the commander tell you what this letter contained?'

'Only that it was a matter of highest and utmost importance,' offered Rognvald. 'I think he feared revealing too much lest our captors somehow discover the secret.'

'In that, he showed the wisdom that made him such a formidable leader of men.' The archbishop took another drink, and laid the cup aside. He fixed his visitors with a stern and cautious stare. 'Are you certain he said nothing more about the contents of the letter?'

'By my faith, no, my lord archbishop,' answered Rognvald truthfully. 'He breathed not a word to me.'

The table around which the three were gathered was large, round and splendidly made of polished oak; it nearly filled the chamber. Before them was sweetened wine in a large silver flagon, and a platter of ripe figs. Although modest, the room bordered a walled garden, and for this reason the archbishop often used it to welcome his more intimate guests. Sparrows returning to the roost twitched and twittered in the branches of the orange trees outside, adding to the heightened anticipation for Cait.

'Well, you have said it. For it is indeed a matter of utmost and highest importance,' the churchman continued. 'And now that I know my message has gone astray, as it were, I shall send to the pope to inform him of the tragedy.'

Cait swallowed hard. Did he mean to tell them nothing after all? Before she could think how best to proceed, Rognvald, nodding sympathetically, said, 'No doubt that would be best.'

It was all Cait could do to stifle a scream of frustration. She took a drink from her cup to hide her aggravation.

'Then it is settled,' Bertrano concluded happily. 'I shall write to the pope at once and send it by swift courier.'

Rognvald smiled diffidently, and Cait narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her cup, silently urging him to speak up before it was too late.

'The Templars will be choosing a new Master of Jerusalem soon enough, I expect,' the knight replied. 'We can but pray it will be someone who shares de Bracineaux's integrity and zeal.' He paused, then added, 'I tremble to think what would happen if the reward of your hard work was to be usurped by an emperor-loving Judas.'

'But what do you mean?' wondered the archbishop, a crease of worry appearing on his brow.

'Just that,' said Rognvald. 'Nothing more.'

'Do you think there might be a chance that could happen?'

Rognvald shrugged. 'I should not like to say.'

'Come now, sir,' stormed the archbishop, striking the tabletop with a fist. 'If you know something, you must tell me.'

'I fear I have said too much already.' Rognvald raised his hands in surrender. 'I beg you do not force me, for I would not like it to be thought that I slandered another man's name. In truth, it is none of my concern, and I will say no more.'

'No, sir!' blurted Bertrano, growing agitated. 'That will not do at all. I must know if my purpose is likely to go astray.'

'I assure you, my lord archbishop,' answered Rognvald a little stiffly, 'I have told you all that can be said.' He appeared about to say something further, but thought better of it, and closed his mouth instead.

The archbishop saw his hesitation and pounced on it. 'Ah, you do know something!' he crowed. 'Tell me, my son; keep nothing back. I am a priest, remember; with me, all confessions are sacred.'

'It was only a thought,' began Rognvald. He turned to Cait, as if seeking her approval.

'Go on, my darling,' she urged him sweetly. 'Let us hold nothing secret from this honest and upright churchman.'

The archbishop gazed at him benevolently; his features, warmed by the wine to a fine mellow glow, arranged themselves in an expression of compassionate understanding. 'It is for the good of all,' the archbishop intoned in his best confessional voice. 'Allow me to hear your thoughts and we will decide what to do.'

'Let it be as you say,' said Rognvald, as if relieved to have the thorny decision behind him. 'Here is the nub: it occurred to me that there might be a way to ensure the harmony and, shall we say, the original integrity of the enterprise so cruelly curtailed by the Saracens.'

'Yes? Go on,' urged Bertrano, 'I am listening.'

'If you agree, I might fulfil that certain task which troubled his last days, and which death forced him to abandon.' The archbishop shook his head in sorrow over the sad plight of the suffering Templar's trouble-filled last days. 'In short,' Rognvald continued, 'I could serve in de Bracineaux's place.'

Before the churchman could respond to this, Rognvald turned to Cait, stretched out his hand and took hers, saying, 'I am sorry, my love. I know I should have discussed it with you, but the notion just occurred to me.'

The cleric gazed at the knight thoughtfully, and then, with a clap of his hands, declared, 'I am liking this. Continue.'

'It seemed to me that a letter, even by swiftest courier, would take several months to reach the Templars-if it should reach Jerusalem at all. It could so easily go astray and fall into the wrong hands.'

'Too true,' agreed Archbishop Bertrano. 'I feared as much with the first epistle. But if you were to act for me in this, it would hasten our undertaking to a favourable outcome.'

'Am I to have nothing to say in this matter?' Cait said, adopting the manner of a neglected and much-put-upon wife. Turning to the churchman, she said, 'You must forgive me, archbishop, if I find the prospect of losing my husband less than agreeable. He was three years in prison,' she lowered her eyes modestly, 'and I have only just got him back.'

'I can but apologize, my love,' answered Rognvald, 'and beg your pardon.' To the archbishop he said, 'My wife is right. I pray you will excuse me, and release me from the duty I have so rashly proposed.'

The trusting cleric, distressed to see the perfect solution to his dilemma receding as swiftly as it had presented itself, raised his hands in a fatherly gesture of mediation. 'Peace, dear friends. Let us not make any hasty decisions we will soon regret. I am certain there is nothing to prevent us proceeding along a harmonious and, dare I say, mutually beneficial path.'

To Cait he said, 'My dear, I can well understand your reluctance in this regard. But once you learn the nature of the prize before us, you will understand. Moreover, you will embrace our purpose with a zeal you cannot now imagine.'

Cait regarded the cleric doubtfully. 'Since you put it that way,' she allowed, none too certainly, 'perhaps you had better tell me about this prize, whatever it might be.'

'Oh, my lady, it is not to be spoken of lightly,' said Bertrano, growing earnest. 'For it is a wonder long concealed from the world, but pleasing God to reveal in our time to further the glorious conquest of his Blessed Son over the heathen infidel.'

He raised his cup and gulped down more wine, as if fortifying himself for what he was about to divulge. Delicately wiping his mouth on his sleeve once more, he leaned forward in an attitude of clandestine solemnity. Cait and Rognvald drew nearer, too.