He spread his hands humbly. 'I am as you find me, a much-changed and chastened man.' He drank again, allowing the others to ponder what he had told them.

'Why did you write to the archbishop?' asked Cait after a moment's reflection.

'Ah, that – that has vexed me greatly,' Matthias confessed. 'Following my rebirth, the zeal burned so great within me that I could not rest but that I should begin straight away to preach to the poor and build churches for them, and thus bring them to knowledge of the Loving Creator.

'Naturally, I could not set about this new work without the permission of my superior. So, I composed a thoughtful letter and sent it to Archbishop Bertrano, asking for his permission and seeking his blessing. In my rapture, I told him about the Mystic Rose of Virtue – that I had seen it, and been changed by it. In short, I told him everything-and more, for I was enraptured and unable to keep this glorious news to myself, and he is my superior, after all.

'Well, after I sent the letter-not at first, but some time later -I began to fear that I had said too much. What if the letter went astray? What if the news of the Sacred Cup should become known to men of evil intent, low thieves who would steal or destroy? But the deed was done, and I could but trust God to make it right.'

Cait lowered her eyes modestly, hoping the priest would not see the waves of guilt washing over her. They had come, like low thieves, to steal the cup for themselves. The simple, trusting faith of Brother Matthias put her to shame, and she was on the brink of admitting it to the priest, confessing her sin and asking for absolution when her sister spoke up.

' God has sent us to you,' declared Alethea with quiet but undeniable conviction.

Cait glanced at her in furtive amazement, only to see that the young woman was hi utter and solemn earnest-and this astonished her even more. Mouthing untruth with such brazen audacity must be the worst kind of blasphemy, certainly. She was still trying to take in the enormity of Alethea's sacrilege when Lord Rognvald said, 'Archbishop Bertrano also feared for the safety of the cup. He told us that, owing to the reconquest of the land, he considered it only a matter of time before the Holy Cup fell into the hands of the Moors.' The knight smiled, his broad countenance shining with the light of a golden day, and the joy of blessed assurance. 'That is why he sent us. With God's help, we will rescue the cup and bear it away to safety before any ill can befall it.'

Grinning, Brother Matthias leaned forward and embraced his visitors-first Alethea, then Rognvald, and then Cait. 'I, too, believe God has sent you,' he said. 'I have often worried that I had done wrong by sending word to the archbishop; and as often as I worried I prayed God would grant me his peace in the matter. In you, my friends, this peace has finally come. I thank God for it, and for you.'

Unable to bear seeing the unsuspecting priest deceived and deluded still further, Cait made bold to lay bare the fraud that she and the others had perpetrated. 'Please, it is not what you think,' she began.

'Nothing ever is, sister,' replied the monk cheerfully. 'Where God is concerned, surprise abounds. Our Heavenly Father delights in the unexpected, the unforeseen, serendipitous circumstance and happy accident.'

'Ours is a God of surprises,' Alethea affirmed.

Cait stared at the others, unable to speak.

'My friends, I am convinced the Lord has sent you. What is more, I feel he is sending me, too.' The monk's grin widened still further. 'I will lead you to the Mystic Rose.'

When the party departed Palencia four days later, they were mere travellers no longer; they had become pilgrims, destined for a holy place. And, for at least two of their number, the journey had taken on profound spiritual significance.

Rognvald and Alethea maintained that the sudden stirring of reverence and devotion was a genuine awakening. 'I see it so clearly now,' Alethea insisted. It was the night before they were to leave, and the three were talking alone in the magistrate's walled courtyard. 'We have been chosen to save the Holy Cup and deliver it to safety.'

'How can you say that?' demanded Cait, 'when you know I was the one who took the letter from the Templars?'

'As the Holy Word says: What you intended for evil,' Rognvald intoned, 'God has destined for good. So be it.'

'And you!' Cait charged. 7 bought your release, not the angels, and that for one purpose only-to help me steal the relic.'

'God works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform,' replied the knight placidly. 'As for myself, I never doubted that Our Great Redeemer had a hand in your scheme. Surely, it is the divine will that we should rescue the Sacred Vessel from the iniquity of desecration.'

Cait shook her head in disbelief at what she was hearing. 'You sound more like a priest every day, my lord,' she grumbled. 'Perhaps you should join a monastery where your preaching would be more appreciated.'

'Only a fool mocks what he does not understand,' the knight replied, unperturbed by Cait's outburst. 'Is it so difficult to believe that, in spite of your intentions, Our Great Lord has ordained us to this task, and even now guides us to our destination?'

It was no use talking sense to them, Cait decided, they were so full of holy foolishness that they could not see the blunt, obvious, mud-ugly fact that the whole enterprise was founded on a mass of lies, half-truths and deceptions, large and small, and all of them growing out of a theft, which itself originated in an act of revenge.

While it might be true that the theft of the letter was instigated by the White Priest-a fact Cait preferred not to mention to anyone -the naked, shabby truth was that she hoped from the first, and hoped still, to employ the Sacred Cup to aid in avenging her father's murder at the hands of de Bracineaux. As she had come to see it, the White Priest's commission provided her with the means to an end she had desired from the first.

Yet, she puzzled over the others' peculiar insistence that their venal and self-serving journey had in some way transmuted itself into a true pilgrimage. In Alethea's case, she suspected the girl was simply enamoured with the handsome young monk and his simple, almost childlike ways. Rognvald was a different matter; she could see no reason for his conversion from cunning accomplice to pious pilgrim. She had assumed it was part of his guise-much the same as that which he had adopted to win Archbishop Bertrano's confidence. The knight, however, remained adamant that his manner was in no way calculated to deceive; and in this he appeared sincere. Indeed, he bristled at the suggestion that his virtue had ever been a sham. 'Lady, you do wrong to doubt me in this,' he had told her-again, in all sincerity.

With her fellow-conspirators stricken by this inexplicable saint-liness, Cait could find no reasonable way to discourage the zealous Brother Matthias from joining the company; and, as the prudent monk seemed wholly disinclined to reveal any details pertaining to the Holy Cup's whereabouts, she had no choice but to welcome him with as good a grace as she could muster.

Nor was the priest the only newcomer to the group. By the time they were ready to depart, thanks to the Norwegian knights' innate friendliness and Magistrate Carlo's well-intentioned efforts, the party had acquired an escort of six additional knights who happily agreed to accompany the travellers as far as their next stop.

'Four warriors-what is that?' he told her. 'It is enough to get you into trouble, but not enough to get you out.' Before she could protest, he surged on. 'No, do not thank me. Since you will not listen to sense and reason, sending these additional men is the least I can do. I could not in good conscience allow you to continue your journey otherwise.'