The sound of the knights saddling the horses and preparing to strike camp brought Cait from an unquiet sleep. Her eyes felt like raw wounds, and her mouth tasted of smoke and ashes. She dragged herself on to her knees and pulled back the tent flap. The sky was dark still, but a thin line of pale red light was showing through the trees to the east. She rose and shuffled out of the tent, and felt the cold sting of the air on her face. Last night's wind had brought cold weather to the mountains; there was frost on the ground.

On stiff, unfeeling legs, she moved to where Rognvald was throwing a saddle pad over the back of a horse. He greeted her sombrely, and said, 'We will leave as soon as the horses are saddled. I think it best to take everything with us. I do not expect we will come back here again.'

'The wagon will slow us down, will it not?'

'Dag is not yet well enough to sit a horse. He can drive the wagon and look after the pack animals. We will mark the trail for him and tell him where to stop and wait. It will slow us, yes, but it cannot be helped.'

'Abu is missing, too,' she told him, her voice taking on a confessional quality.

He finished smoothing the pad and then glanced at her. 'Yes,' he said. 'I know.' He bent down, lifted the saddle which was laying on the ground beside him, and hefted it into place. 'I did not think you would remember.'

Another time and the reprimand would have rankled and irritated; now, however, she merely swallowed glumly. 'You did not find his body when you were searching the wood,' she said after a moment, 'so perhaps we may yet find him. He cannot have gone far.'

'He has a horse,' Rognvald told her.

'How do you know?'

'There were three dead Moors, and only two horses.'

'You think he took it?' Cait was baffled by this unexpected turn. 'Then we shall have to divide our forces and search for them both-is that what you're thinking?'

'I am thinking,' replied Rognvald, stooping to gather the cinch strap dangling beneath the horse's belly, 'that where we find Alethea, there we will also find Abu.'

'He followed her,' Cait murmured. 'Of course.' She was slow to pick up the thread of Rognvald's thought, but now she had it and felt her blood warm once more to the chase.

Stepping close, she put her hand on Rognvald's arm. 'I am sorry for my shameful behaviour; it was not becoming a lady of rank. I allowed my anxiety over my sister's disappearance to cloud my judgement-a fact which I deeply regret.'

Rognvald bent down to fasten the strap.

'I have offered my apology,' Cait said, her voice growing tight. 'Did you hear what I said?'

'I heard.'

'Do you not accept it?'

'Lady, it is not for me to accept or reject. Am I a priest now, waiting at your beck and call to shrive you?'

Stung by his reproach, she removed her hand from his arm. 'Our priest is dead.'

'Yes,' agreed the tall knight. 'So, I think you will have to suffer your pangs of conscience as best you can.'

'I do suffer them, sir. And I was taught the virtue of repentance. Obviously, you were not.'

'See here, we all do things in the heat of battle we later regret. War is regret.' He gave a sharp tug, pulling the cinch strap tight. 'Do not look to me to soothe away your remorse with kind words and kisses.'

'Oh, never you fear, my lord,' she spat. 'Though you die in your bed an ill-tempered old man, you will not hear me apologize again.'

She turned on her heel and stormed away. Thus, the unhappy day began.

As soon as the tent was packed away and the wagon loaded and secured, the much-diminished party moved on. They accompanied Dag and the wagon a short way along the track, and arranged a place to meet later in the day before turning aside to take up the trail they had abandoned the previous evening.

The ground was more rough and rocky than Cait remembered -or perhaps it was the coating of frost which made every stone, leaf, branch and twig stand out in sharp relief. The path was much steeper, too, and as they climbed higher and ever higher, the wind began to grow stronger and more raw, whipping the horses' manes and tails.

The tracks of the fleeing Moors led up over the curving spine of a bare rock ridge; with sour disappointment growing in her breast, Cait began to suspect that the bandits had disappeared into the mountains beyond – a suspicion quickly confirmed when the party scrambled up an incline of scree and abruptly found themselves gazing down into a rocky defile through which snaked a grey stream. And across the divide – the mountains. Cait looked at the daunting slopes covered in a thick tangle of scrub-oak, hazel, and small, stunted pines, and her heart sank.

She turned in the saddle and looked down the way they had come. Far below, she could see the narrow trail as it wound along the lower shoulders of the foothills. She did not see the wagon, but reckoned it was down there somewhere.

'We will rest here a moment,' called Rognvald. 'Svein and I will ride to the bend -' he pointed along the top of the ridge, 'and see if we can find a way ahead.'

They rode off and the others dismounted to stand close to their mounts for warmth. Cait pulled her cloak more tightly around her to keep the wind out and stood staring bleakly at the soaring slopes beyond the canyon. The three knights stood talking together, and Cait decided that it was time she made herself better acquainted with those remaining in her service.

The men stopped talking as she joined them, and turned expectantly. 'Please,' she said, 'do not stop on my account. I did not mean to interrupt.'

'My lady,' said Yngvar, 'we were just remarking how winter comes early to the mountains.'

'It seems winter has begun,' Cait agreed, adding, 'Alethea does not even have a cloak.'

The men exchanged uneasy glances. 'Is it like this in your country?' the one called Rodrigo asked, indicating the mountains.

'There are mountains in Scotland,' Cait told him. 'But only low hills where my family lives. Our lands are near the sea, and winters are often harsh.'

'My family owns land near Bilbao-also near the sea,' the knight told her. 'That means we share the same sea, you and I.' He smiled, and Cait realized he was trying to cheer her.

'I am sorry for the death your friends,' she said. 'Thadeus, Ricardo, Hernando, and Emari.' The names she knew, but had no idea which name belonged to which knight. 'If not for me, they would still be alive.'

The knight lowered his head; Cait saw him swallow down his grief. 'I will miss them, it is true,' he replied evenly. 'But they were men of valour, and freely sworn. They would not hold you to blame, nor do I.'

'Even so, they did not deserve to die like that,' said the one called Paulo. 'It is a disgrace for a knight to die without a sword in his hand.'

'Only the worst coward would cut down a man who cannot defend himself,' Yngvar said. 'A man of honour would never do such a low thing.'

A great sadness swept over Cait as she listened to the men talk. She pulled the heavy wool cloak more tightly around her throat and looked towards the mountains. The higher peaks were lost in mist which appeared to be thickening; tendrils of fog oozed down the slopes, like sinuous fingers, slowly reaching and stretching, searching out the low places, filling them, and flowing silently on. The wind blew in fitful gusts, whistling over the bare rocks of the ridge, and she could smell snow in the air.

'Oh, Alethea,' she murmured to herself, 'I am so sorry.' She closed her eyes and prayed God to send his angels to protect the young woman from the killing cold, no less than from the hateful abuse of her heathen captors.

A short while later, they heard the sound of horses and looked to see Rognvald and Svein returning. As they dismounted, the others gathered around to hear their report. 'There is a marker at the edge of the stream down there,' Rognvald told them. 'That is where they crossed.'