The priest paused to take a drink of wine before continuing. 'When word of the sainted man's unfortunate end eventually reached the new-founded churches of Iberia, the people grew very distraught. They came together and chose a delegation of twelve strong and righteous men, led by a priest of undoubted holiness. The delegation was sent to Jerusalem to claim the body of their beloved lago.

'Through many travails they persevered, and were at last granted permission to recover the corpse of the great saint, which they placed in a specially prepared casket and carried back to Galicia to be buried in the place where he and his followers first made landfall, and where his bones have been venerated ever since.'

'Was it really the true spike?' Alethea wanted to know. 'It might have been any old scrap of iron.'

'There is no deceiving you,' declared the priest. 'You put the Blessed Thomas to shame.' Leaning close, he said, 'To tell you the truth, I had my doubts, too. I asked how it was that after such a long time they could be certain that it was the selfsame spike of the crucifixion – and do you know what the chief did?'

Alethea shook her head. The nearness of the priest made her stomach flutter, and she noticed how the sun had burnt the hair on his bare arms to a fluff of golden curls. 'What did he do?' she asked, almost swallowing her voice.

'He told me to pick it up. He said, "lago was a powerful prophet, and he foresaw the time when the Galicians would suffer under the Moors. He gave us this inestimable treasure so that we should never forget the teaching he left behind, for he knew the gospel he preached would help us endure and survive. And he told the truth." Then the village chieftain stretched out his hand towards the relic and bade me to pick it up.'

'Did you?' asked Cait.

'Lady, I did. I stood before the altar and I reached down and plucked up the spike and held it in my hand. It was heavier than I imagined, and cold to the touch. "Now I know you are a holy man," said my host, "or else you could not lift it." I did not know what he meant; but before I could ask, he bade me make as if to steal it away.

'Still holding the spike in my hand, I turned away from the altar and started towards the doorway and, wonder of wonders, the spike began to grow warm. In the space of a single step, the cold iron grew so hot as to scorch my palm. I looked and the metal now glowed red as if fresh from the smith's fiery forge.'

'What did you do?' said Alethea.

'What could I do? I swiftly returned the sacred object to its place on the altar lest my hands be burned to unfeeling stumps. Lo and behold! No sooner had I replaced the relic than it resumed its former appearance. "Touch it," said my host, and I did.' The monk stretched forth a tentative finger, recalling the gesture for his astonished audience. 'What did I find? The ancient iron was cold once more.'

'A very miracle,' said Rognvald with satisfaction.

'You are a trusting soul,' replied the priest. 'I would I were more like you in this regard. Unfortunately, ever since childhood I have suffered the affliction of a suspicious nature. I could not let the matter rest. I saw a stack of kindling wood lying on the floor next to the cave entrance; so I took up a stout chunk of wood in each hand and returned to the altar-thinking to get the object between the two pieces and remove the iron spike that way without burning my hands.'

'Did it work?' asked Alethea, slightly breathless with awe.

'Sister, it was even more wonderful than before. For no matter how hard I tried, I could not move that spike. Though I applied all my strength, the holy relic would not be diverted by so much as a whisker's breadth. The wood splintered, and my fingers grew raw, but I could not move it.

'The village chief watched me with great amusement. He laughed at my efforts, and then calmly walked to the altar where I was struggling and, bowing before it, took up the spike and placed it once more in my hand as if it were no more than a feather. "Were you less holy than you are," he told me, "you would not be able to lift it, for to the man of evil intent, it contains the weight of the world." I replaced the holy relic then, and knelt down before the altar and thanked the Heavenly Father for allowing me to witness this great and powerful sign.

'When I finished my prayers, we departed the cave, and returned to the village, reaching the settlement just as dawn rose over the eastern hills. I thanked the chieftain for showing me the marvellous relic, and vowed I would treasure it always, and tell anyone who cared to listen so that faith might increase. As I said this, a great smile spread over the chieftain's face, and he said, "Do you see that sunrise? Our poor relic is as the darkness of the valley through which you walked compared to the shining glory of the gra'al."'

The three rapt listeners repeated the strange word.

'Like you, I had never heard of this gra'al, and did not know what it might be,' the priest told them. 'I asked what was betokened by this word. My guide made the sign of the cross and said, "It is the Lord's Cup – the Cup of the Communion of Saints, which was blessed by the Christ at the table of the Last Supper."'

'The Mystic Rose,' whispered Cait.

Brother Matthias nodded. 'I thought he meant that the village possessed another secret in the form of this relic, and so I asked if he could show me. But he merely smiled, and said that it was not his to show, for long ago the cup was removed by the will of God, and taken to a refuge where it could be guarded lest the Moors learn of it and seek to steal or destroy it. My excitement made me rash, and in my unthinking haste, I asked him to show me where the Blessed Cup had been taken. I asked him to lead me there at once. My guide recoiled from my unseemly alacrity. It seemed then that he feared he had revealed too much. He quickly bade me farewell, and would say no more.'

'Agh!' cried Alethea in protest. 'You should have made him tell you!'

'In the end, I did learn the rest of the tale. A few days later, he came to me after dark. I was at my prayers, and he came into the room where I was staying and said that he could not rest knowing that he had betrayed the Sacred Cup. "How betrayed?" I asked. "I am a priest of the church. All things touching the holy are safe in my hands."

'Even so, I failed to convince him, and so I suggested that the best way out of his dilemma was for me to learn the rest of the tale from someone else. "That way," I told him, "the burden is lifted from your shoulders because you were not the one to tell me."

'Well, he saw it as his redemption in the matter, and told me that if he was a man wanting to learn secrets of this nature, he knew a place deep in the high Pyrenees where all such questions could be answered. The way he said it gave me to know that this secret place in the mountains was where the cup now sheltered, so I agreed, and he instructed me on how to find this place. I listened with utmost care to all he said, and when he left, I quickly prepared a pen and wrote down all he had told me. I wrote the directions in the margin of the gospel text I always carry with me so that I would not forget them, and a few days later I concluded my work and set off to find the Sanctuary of the Cup.'

'Did you find it?' asked Cait.

'I did, my lady,' answered Matthias. 'I found it just as he said I would.'

'And did you see the cup?' asked Rognvald.

'I did,' replied the priest, his voice falling to a whisper. 'I saw it in all its manifold splendour, and I worshipped it. I fell on my face before the sacred object, and when I arose three days had passed.'

'Three whole days!' challenged Alethea, disbelief edging into her tone.

'In the mere blink of an eye,' affirmed the monk. 'And then I rose and went out, healed and satisfied in heart and mind and soul. I rose as a man renewed and reborn, and with a holy fire burning in my belly. Since then, I have travelled the land, preaching wherever I am welcomed, and building churches for those who have none.'