'My ribs ache, but I am well otherwise.' She turned from the plundered wagon, and looked towards the tent, suddenly remembering what she had been about when the bandit diverted her attention. 'God help us, no!' she shouted, running for the tent. 'Where is Alethea?'

Dag lay face down on the ground before the collapsed tent, a small dark patch of blood pooling beneath his cheek. The tent pole with which he had tried to defend himself and Alethea lay broken beside him. Cait reached him first, and even as she took in the sight, her eyes quickly scoured the surrounding area for her sister. Seeing that the young woman's body was not lying battered and bloody nearby, Cait knelt beside the fallen knight. Fearing he was dead, she put a hand to his cheek. The flesh was cold and damp.

She heard Rognvald shout an order to the others to remain mounted and on guard for another attack, and then he hastened to her side. 'I am sorry,' began Cait as the knight handed her his sword and bent over the body of his liegeman. 'I think he is -'

With expert quickness, Rognvald searched the body for wounds. Finding none, he took Dag by the shoulders and rolled him on to his back. It was then Cait saw the ugly gash over his left eye. The blood had come from this cut, and from the man's broken nose. Bending close, Rognvald placed his ear next to the man's mouth, listened for a moment, and then sat back on his heels. 'He lives.'

'Alethea is not here,' she said. 'Perhaps she has run into the forest.' She made to rise, but Rognvald put his hand on her shoulder and held her down.

'Stay with Dag,' he said, taking back his sword. 'I will search for her.' Calling Svein and the two mounted Spanish knights to accompany him, he made a swift search of the perimeter. In a few moments, Cait could hear them shouting for Alethea as they made a circuit of the surrounding woodland. While they searched, Cait occupied herself with washing the unconscious knight's wound and preparing a bandage for him. She bade Yngvar bring water and then sent him to fetch some dry moss, which she formed into a thick pad, binding it to the wound with a strip of linen torn from the hem of one of her mantles,

As she worked, she kept looking to the forest half-expecting to see her sister straggling back to camp from her hiding-place. Where have you been? she would demand. We have been calling for you! Could you not hear? Alethea, shaken but unharmed, would complain about her sister's lack of pity for her particular hardship, and all would be well once more.

In the end, however, it was not Alethea she saw, but Rognvald and Svein, hurrying from the wood, their faces tight with dismay. 'Tell me you did not find her,' said Cait, bracing herself for the worst.

'Lady, we did not,' Rognvald replied. 'The Spanish knights-the four who were gathering firewood. They were set upon by the bandits and killed before they could raise the alarm and warn us.'

'All four – dead?' Despite what the knight was telling her, she only felt relieved that her sister was not among them.

'Their kinsmen are with them,' Rognvald said.

'We saw no sign of the young lady,' Svein added quickly. 'There is hope still.'

'Better than for the priest,' said Yngvar, joining them.

'Matthias – why? Where is he?' She stood up and looked around.

'He has been killed, my lady.' Yngvar pointed towards the plundered wagon. 'His body is there.'

To all appearances, the good brother had simply fallen asleep at his prayers. Hands still clasped, he lay on his side, his robe damp at the knees from kneeling on the wet ground. The killing blow had caught him on the back of the neck, almost severing his head. Yet his expression was not one of terror or anguish, but intense calm-as if, in the fervency of his prayer, he had been unaware of the tumult around him.

'I do not think he felt any pain, poor fellow,' observed Svein.

'Poor fellow,' Yngvar retorted. 'I hope I might go in such a way. He was close to God, this one.'

Svein nodded thoughtfully. 'He is closer now.'

Rognvald glanced at the lowering sky. 'It will be dark soon. We must hurry if we are to raise the trail.'

At first Cait did not understand the implication of his words. 'Raise the trail,' she objected. 'But Alethea would not just run away.'

'The bandits' trail,' Rognvald corrected.

Until the knight uttered those words, the possibility that her sister had been taken had simply not occurred to her; it did so now-and with all the terrible consequence of certainty.

Instantly, her mind filled with the vile and awful defilements customarily suffered by abducted women. She stood. 'We must find her. Where is my horse?'

'I will take Yngvar and the others. Svein will stay here with you.'

'I am going,' she insisted. 'Get me a horse.'

Rognvald placed his hand firmly on her shoulder. 'We are armed and you are not. It would be better for you to stay and look after Dag.'

'Let Svein look after him,' she said, shaking off his hand. 'I am going.' Retrieving her sword, she strode to Svein's horse, gathered the hem of her mantle, put her foot to the stirrup and swung into the saddle. 'Well? Are you coming or not?'

Rognvald muttered an oath beneath his breath and moved quickly to his mount. He wheeled his horse and started off in the direction the marauding Moors had fled. 'Stay in sight of me,' he said to Cait as he passed her.

At first they had no difficulty seeing exactly where the raiders had gone. They followed clear hoofprints in the rain-softened earth, making good speed through the wood. Indeed, their progress was so swift and purposeful, Cait allowed herself to imagine they would quickly catch sight of the fleeing raiders.

Too soon, however, the little light which shone through the thick overcast sky dissolved into a dismal damp gloom. And then, as darkness settled about them, the ground began to rise to meet the rocky hills; they climbed to the top of a steep, thicket-covered slope, and there the trail of hoofmarks divided. The last dregs of daylight revealed a sudden turning away from the path and into the rough, trackless hills. Here, Rognvald called a halt.

'Mark the place,' he called to Yngvar. 'We will resume the search in the morning.'

'You would turn back now?' demanded Cait. 'They must be but a short way ahead of us. We can catch them yet.'

'We cannot catch them if we cannot see them,' Rognvald replied.

'As it stands, we will be fortunate to find our way back to camp in the dark.'

'Go back, then,' Cait growled angrily. 'You can all go back, /will go on alone. My sister is taken captive, and I will not abandon her.'

'We will find Alethea,' declared Rognvald, his words terse and his voice low. 'But we cannot search in the darkness, and / will not risk all our lives in foolish pursuit.'

With that, he turned and started back the way they had come. Cait shouted at him to come back, but he ignored her; Yngvar fell in behind his lord; the two Spanish knights hesitated, then followed, leaving Cait to herself.

In defiance, she urged her horse forward along the trail, but stopped again after only a few dozen paces. It was hopeless. She could no longer see the ground, much less the hoofprints; trees, shadows, hills and sky were merging into an impenetrable inky gloom-made all the darker for the lack of moon or stars to light the way.

She reined to a halt, and sat staring into the deepening murk and listening for any sound that would tell her Alethea was near. She heard only the wind fingering the tops of the tall pines as it rushed down from the cold mountain heights. When she realized she could no longer hear the knights behind her, she at last gave in. 'God be with you, Thea,' she murmured, and then turned around to make her way back.