'Oh, it is wonderful!' she said, forgetting her composure in her enthusiasm. 'It is easily the finest I have ever seen-by far.' The cloak was indeed exquisite-yet, it was more the completely unexpected nature of the gift that so amazed and delighted her. However, if she had seen that Rognvald's scowl had reappeared in force, she might have reined in her excitement somewhat; and if she had seen the disapproving, furtive glances the knights exchanged with one another, she might have recovered the greater portion of her natural dignity and bearing.

While the katib held it up for her, she put her arms through the sleeves and turned, drawing the splendid garment around her, luxuriating in its richness and warmth. 'It is true what my master has said,' he told her, 'you have eyes like the very houri of paradise.'

To Cait's embarrassment, she coloured under this blandishment, and it brought her to herself once more. 'I thank you, my lord -' she began.

'If you please, my lady,' he interrupted smoothly, 'I am simply Halhuli. I deem it the utmost pleasure to serve you.' He turned and spread his hands in a gesture of deference, and said, 'Now, if you are ready, my lords, we can proceed. My master is waiting to welcome you, and I assure you he is most eager to make your acquaintance.'

With a flick of his hand, Halhuli sent his bearer hurrying to bring his horse, though it was but a few paces behind him. At the same time, the other servant dismounted and came on the run, leading the black horse. Taking Cait's hand, the katib helped her into the saddle, and then resumed his own mount. Without another word or backward glance, the prince's overseer turned and rode from the camp with Cait at his side. The knights gathered the pack animals and hurried after.

The short day faded. With high clouds coming in from the north on a bitter wind, the mountain tops were soon lost to view, and the sky grew dark and heavy long before they came in sight of their destination. Although she tried, Cait found it difficult to maintain her sense of direction. One desolate, tree-filled valley was very like another; and one twisting, trackless bare rock ridge the same as all the rest. After they had travelled a fair distance into the mountains, they paused. 'It is not far now,' Halhuli told her.

Turning in his saddle, he lifted his hand and said, 'Behold! Al-Jelal, the palace of Prince Hasan Salah Al-Nizar.'

Cait looked up to see, high on the towering ridgewall before her, a low, box-like structure squatting on the edge of an almost vertical curtain of rock rising from the valley floor. The lofty dwelling, built of the same drab stone as the surrounding mountains, was so uniformly colourless and dull that if the katib had not stopped to show her, she might never have noticed it.

The party continued on and soon reached the end of the valley and began the ascent of the ridge by way of a paved trail. Once atop the ridge, they saw that the palace-or, as Halhuli said, the al-qazr – occupied a natural hollow in the upper part of the slope, and had been built in the manner of a series of graceful steps rising to the top, each one slightly higher than the last. The whole was surrounded by a stone wall, the gates of which closed upon the ridge trail, sealing off the only path leading to, or from, Al-Jelal.

As a stronghold, it possessed little in the way of fortification -the wall was the only defensive structure, and it had no towers. As an example of the builder's art, it lacked any redeeming aspect. Indeed, the dismal mud-coloured stone with which it was constructed appeared unspeakably dreary and cheerless beneath the low grey skies.

'The prison in Damascus had more to charm the eye than this foul nest,' grumbled Yngvar under his breath. Svein and Dag grunted in agreement. Cait heard, and though she turned to glare at them for their discourtesy, she knew they were right. She looked up at the high, lonely house, and her heart sank at the thought that she had exchanged the freedom of the wind and stars for a forlorn and comfortless rock of a fortress.

The gates opened as they drew near, and they passed through and into a wide, sloping yard. A row of iron stanchions had been set up, with a torch fluttering from the top of each one; beneath each flame fluttered a golden banner with the prince's crest: a falcon soaring above a curved Moorish sword.

Beyond the row of banners stood the first of the palace buildings, the prince's reception hall. The massive cedar doors were open and white-robed servants stood with torches at either side of the entrance. As the visitors were dismounting, the prince appeared in the doorway, and came hurrying swiftly down the steps to join them. He walked directly to Rognvald and stretched out his empty hand in greeting. 'My lord Rognvald,' he said, 'I am pleased to welcome you and your men to my home.'

As the knights gathered around their lord and leader, the prince said, 'I am Hasan Salah Ibn Al-Nizar, prince of the House of Tashfin. Your presence will make a most entertaining diversion during this bleak season.' Indicating the dressed deer carcasses slung across the backs of two pack mules, he said, 'I compliment you on your success. As it happens, my lands boast the best hunting in all of Aragon; I look forward to riding with you one day soon, my lords.'

'For a certainty,' replied Rognvald with but slight hesitation, 'we would like nothing better.'

'Splendid!' exclaimed the prince. 'With your permission I will instruct the kitchen to prepare the stags to be served with our banquet tonight. Now then,' he said, motioning to the waiting katib, 'if you please, Halhuli will lead you into the hall.'

The knights moved off, and the prince turned to Cait. 'Lady Ketmia, you must forgive me for leaving you unattended, but I wished to escort you personally.' Stepping before her, he caught up her hand and brushed it with his lips. 'The cloak is to your liking?'

'It is beautiful,' she said. 'And I thank you, my lord. It is a very thoughtful gift, and much appreciated on a day like this.'

'My pleasure entirely.' Taking her hand, he turned and led her up the steps and in through the open doors. 'The winter wind can be devilish in these mountains. The wool comes from a kind of goat that roams the peaks around here. It is very soft, but also extremely warm. I am glad you like it.'

They passed through the open doors into a large vestibule. The walls were made of rough stone which had been white-washed; and the floor was polished pine. It was simple, clean and spare, if a trifle plain; but at least it was not as dire as Cait had feared, and it was warm.

There were two doors at either end of the vestibule, and through one of them Cait could see the last of the knights disappearing down a long corridor. Prince Hasan conducted her to the opposite door where two young women were waiting. Both had long black hair which was worn in a single braid, and both were dressed in the same white, loose-fitting robe the male servants wore.

At the prince's approach, the maids bowed low and remained in that posture until their lord had acknowledged them. 'This is Mahdi and Pila'i,' he told Cait. 'They will be your maidservants during your sojourn here. I have instructed them to take very good care of you, so please allow them to fulfil the charge they have been given.'

The sight of the two young women cheered Cait, and improved her spirits immediately. She had allowed herself to imagine the prince the sole tenant of his bleak, windswept haven, surrounded by the kind of rank squalor men descend to when there are no women around to maintain decency and order. The fact that she was provided with not just one, but two, maidservants, all to herself, suggested otherwise. 'Are there many women here?' she asked.