The sea remained calm, allowing Haemur to sail by night. Once Cait awoke at midnight and, wanting some air, went up on deck to find Lord Rognvald at the helm taking a turn to rest the old pilot, who was asleep on a nearby bench. She watched the tall knight for a moment, before going back to her bed without a word.

Seven days after leaving Iria, they came in sight of the port. 'There it is,' Gines informed them. 'That is Bilbao.'

Cait and Alethea looked where the old seaman was pointing; beyond the clusters of crude fishing huts scattered along the coast, they saw a dark smudge of smoke hanging above the low hills divided by the deep-channelled river.

'Not much of a city,' concluded Alethea, dismissing it with a disdainful sniff.

'Perhaps not,' allowed the Galician, 'but it is the gate through which you must pass.'

A short time later, they sailed into the cup-shaped bay of the Nervion river estuary and proceeded to work their way along the wide, slow-flowing channel to Bilbao. As at Iria, they hired horses for the ride to Vitoria. This time, Cait paid for enough mounts for all to go, save the four sailors who stayed behind to watch the ship. It cost a great deal for so many horses, but Alethea obviously needed watching, and she did not like the idea of leaving the knights behind to waste their days in the alehouses of Bilbao. And Abu's usefulness as a translator, along with whatever rudimentary skills as a physician he possessed, argued for his inclusion.

'I do not know how long we shall be away,' Cait told Haemur. 'God willing, it will only be a few days or so. But it may be longer.'

'Take all the time you need,' the old pilot told her. 'It matters not a whit to me. As I told your father, my lady, never fear: though the Lord return and sound the heavenly trumpet to call the faithful home to paradise, you will find old Haemur here and waiting still.'

'Thank you, Haemur,' Cait replied. 'Even so, should we be gone longer than I expect, I am leaving enough money to keep the ship in harbourage and for any provisions you will need. And,' she added, 'you know where Duncan's sea chest is kept if ill befalls and you need more.'

'Worry not,' the old seaman replied. 'In a lively harbour such as this, there are always nets to be mended and hulls to caulk. If our hands keep busy, we should not want for anything. There is just one small matter, however…'

'Yes?'

'Gines was hoping to stay on with us awhile, if you have no objection.'

'I have no objection whatsoever. He has given us good service, and I am grateful.' She nodded to the Galician fisherman, who was standing quietly aside, looking on. 'If he wishes to stay, so be it.'

'Thank you, my lady,' said the pilot with some relief. 'In a place like this it helps to have a friend who can speak the tongue of his countrymen, if you know what I mean.'

'I understand. He can also help you keep the young men out of trouble.'

'That he can, my lady.'

Caitriona bade him farewell, and then took her leave of Olvir and Otti-the latter of whom was not at all happy to be left cooling his heels in port while the others rode away. 'Otti,' Cait said, 'who will guard the ship, if not you?'

He tried to think of some way to dispute this fact, but could not rise to the challenge. 'But you will need me, too,' he insisted.

'I do need you, it is true,' she said gently. 'I need you here, Otti.' She rested her hand lightly on his arm in confidence. 'The others are not as strong as you, and if any trouble should arise, you must protect them and guard the ship.'

Feeling that he was failing to persuade her, he lowered his head in sullen defeat.

'Listen to me, Otti,' she said, 'I am counting on you to look after the others.' When she saw that he understood, she added, 'Now then, I have left Haemur a little money for ale for you and Olvir. If you do well, he will give it to you.'

At the realization that she had made provision for him and Olvir, that they were not to be forgotten in her absence, Otti's face lit with simple pleasure. He accepted this compromise happily and Cait joined the others at the end of the wharf to begin the ride to Vitoria – accompanied by the hostler who, for a small additional fee, had agreed to be their guide.

So, as she climbed into the saddle, Cait took a quick mental inventory of her company. First came the hostler, a short, stocky man named Miguel, a pleasant fellow with a ready, if somewhat toothless, smile-he had been kicked by a horse and was missing both upper and lower front teeth; he rode a hinny and led a pack mule bearing equipment and supplies for the camp. Following the hostler were Yngvar and Svein who had tied long strips of blue cloth to the heads of the lances they carried; the improvised pennons fluttered in the light breeze. Alethea, hair gathered beneath a low-crowned green hat with a veil to keep the sun from her face, had managed to make her place beside Dag, who, Cait noticed, had lately begun to reciprocate her sister's undisguised interest. Next came Rognvald, tall and upright in the saddle, a wide-brimmed leather hat high on his head, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his elbows. The knights all had shields slung upon their backs, and swords at their sides; Cait, dressed in a simple red shift and mantle, her dark hair swept back and held in place by small silver combs beneath her hat, carried the sword Rognvald had given her, its gleaming slender length sheathed for protection of blade and rider. Both Svein and Dag led pack animals carrying the rest of the armour and weapons; and Abu, his face all but hidden beneath a large straw hat, brought up the rear, leading two more mules laden with provisions, provender, and drinking water for the journey.

Freshly shaved and dressed in the clothes she had bought for them in Cyprus, their weapons gleaming in the strong sunlight, Cait thought her knights a fine and handsome sight. As she took her place beside Rognvald, she was filled with a sudden and unanticipated joy, and a sense of righteous certainty, almost inevitability-that her feet were established on a path which had been prepared for her long ago. She was where she was meant to be, and doing what she had been born to do. Tightening the scarf holding her pale yellow, wide-brimmed hat, she raised a hand to show that she was ready. The hostler cracked his whip, and the company set off.

The road was good and the sun hot; the company travelled quickly, passing through numerous settlements of the deep river valley. At several of these, the sky darkened and they smelled the sharp stench of sulphurous smoke; black ash rained out of the air, and they saw heaps of spent slag darkening the hillsides. The river turned an ugly rusty colour and barges loaded with pigs of rough iron floated slowly towards the harbour.

They soon left the last of the iron-working settlements behind, and the sky became clear and the air clean once more. Despite their long absence from the saddle, the knights rode easily and lightly, talking and joking as they went along, and making the hills echo with the sound of their banter. Cait liked hearing them; it confirmed in her the feeling that she had done well to save them and give them back their lives.

That first day, they rode as long into the evening as they could and then made a simple camp: grass sleeping-mats arranged around a stone-ringed fire with the star-flecked sky for a roof over their heads. They were on the move again as soon as light permitted the next morning, and the second day passed like the first; the only difference they noticed was that the settlements were smaller and further apart. On the third day, the hostler pointed out a tiny projection rising like a dark sliver from a distant hill. 'That is the bell tower of the church of Vitoria,' he told them.