Through a series of interconnecting corridors, vestibules, reception rooms, and antechambers-so many that Cait lost all sense of direction-they came at last to a hall-like room fronted by a pair of tall, narrow doors bound in gilded leather ornamented by a pair of falcons, one on each panel, their images traced in black nails hammered through the gleaming hide.

Before each panel stood a servant who, at the approach of the old woman, stood up smartly and tugged open the heavy doors. The old woman indicated that she should enter, so Cait, followed by her two serving maids, stepped through the entrance and into what she could only describe as the interior of an impossibly large tent.

The ceiling was hung with great, swooping drapes of cloth attached to the tops of the room's numerous slender columns which took on the aspect of tent poles and from which large, many-flamed oil lamps hung on brass chains. The wide expanse of floor was covered by rugs of every size and colour piled one atop another in a profligate display of wealth; and here and there around the room were clumps and clusters of enormous satin cushions.

Inexplicably, Cait remembered the first time she had entered a cathedral with her step-mother-the great church at Kirkjuvagr in Orkney. While her father was talking some business or other with the tradesmen, Sydoni had taken her to see the cathedral, and she remembered trembling with wonder at the astonishingly majestic building, so strange and mysterious she felt it must have been enchanted.

She felt the same way now, as with slow, deliberate steps, she moved into the room, eyes wide with amazement at the elaborate strangeness of her surroundings. As the doors closed silently behind her, a new serving maid appeared, greeted her in Arabic, and offered a tray containing a silver cup, a heap of bread torn into small bits, and a bowl of salt. It was, she recognized, a ritual of welcome-the Scots observed a similar custom. Taking a piece of bread, she dipped it in the salt, and then ate it. The serving girl then presented her with the cup, filled with sweetened wine. She took a drink and replaced the cup.

She heard the sound of voices in the antechamber beyond, and turned as the doors opened once more to admit Rognvald and the knights. They trooped in, following a serving boy with a blue turban. Even from where she stood, Cait could see that they had bathed and shaved and, like her, they had been provided with clothes for the festivities: of the eastern variety, well made and of good cloth, only slightly less opulent than her own. Unlike her, however, they moved uneasily in their finery as men unaccustomed to such luxury.

One by one they paused to partake of the bread and salt, and accept a drink of sweet wine. Upon seeing Cait, they immediately gathered around her and exclaimed over her exotic dress. 'Oh, my lady,' said Yngvar, his tone one slow gasp of pleasure, 'how beautiful you look.'

'No queen ever appeared more elegant,' agreed Svein.

Dag nodded enthusiastically, and added, 'Nor more lovely.'

The Spanish knights murmured their approval, and she turned to Rognvald as he raised the cup from the tray. 'What say you, my lord of sombre mien?' she asked, teasingly. 'I make a fine princess, do I not?'

'Passing fine, my lady,' he said softly. She saw something in his eyes then that took her aback. She had meant the question to be a playful, if somewhat impish jest; but staunch Rognvald was in grave earnest. Suddenly embarrassed, she looked away just as the doors opened once more to admit their host, Prince Hasan, and with him, a slender young woman with long dark hair and large dark eyes.

The prince greeted his guests effusively, making much of the remarkable alteration in their appearances. Then he introduced the woman beside him, saying, 'My friends, may I present to you my sister, Danji.' The woman pressed her hands together and bowed gracefully. 'Unfortunately, she does not speak Latin, but I thought her presence, and that of her handmaidens, would make this evening's festivities more enjoyable.'

Turning to the knights, he said, 'My lord Rognvald, perhaps you would be so kind as to present your men to me. I would know the names of those who share my table tonight.'

'Of course, Prince Hasan,' he replied, drawing his eyes away from the lovely raven-haired woman standing demurely beside the prince. Then, beginning with Yngvar, he presented each of the knights in turn to the prince and his sister, introducing himself last. When these formalities had been observed, the prince called everyone to join him at table, and proceeded to the centre of the room where a cluster of cushions had been arranged to form an open circle.

He dropped on to a cushion in the centre of the horseshoe-shaped arrangement and waved others to their places. 'Here, Lord Rognvald,' he called, 'sit at my right hand. And, you, my lovely Ketmia, sit with Danji, at my left.' When everyone had been seated, he clapped his hands and there appeared a succession of serving men bearing low tables which they placed before the diners. Hard on the heels of the men came a dozen serving maids to spread each table with a spotless white cloth; no sooner were the cloths in place than brass trays appeared, bearing sweet dark wine in silver cups.

When each guest had been given a cup, Prince Hasan opened his arms in a gesture of benevolence and declared, 'Tonight it pleases Allah the Almighty and Munificent to bless this company with feasting that the bonds of friendships may be strengthened between men of faith and goodwill. Eat and take your ease, that we may rise from this table better friends than when we first sat down together.'

Thus, the banquet began.

'Now then,' Hasan said, leaning his chin on his palm, 'how did you come to be wandering around in my mountains?'

They had feasted on spiced lamb and kid, and on strips of fresh venison which the prince's serving maids cooked for them over charcoal braziers set up beside the tables; when the meat was done, they transferred the roasted strip to the bowl of each individual guest using extremely long forks. The knights had not seen this before, and took an instant liking to this method of cooking and serving meat. There were also rich, highly seasoned stews of vegetables, and fragrant rice with dates and almonds, and plenty of honey-sweetened wine.

The prince's sister, Danji, summoned six of her handmaids to come and join the festivities so that the knights might have a pretty companion to share the meal. As a result, the somewhat icy wariness of the men melted in the warmth of the prince's lavish and convivial hospitality-except for Rognvald who, while allowing himself to enjoy the meal, nevertheless maintained a discreetly guarded attitude towards the prince.

'As you have discovered, my al-qazr is far from any roads, and travellers seldom pass this way,' he continued, looking from one to the other of them as he reclined on his elbow amidst the cushions. 'What brought you here?'

Despite Rognvald's cautious glance, Cait decided the moment had come to tell Hasan about her sister's abduction and secure his aid. 'In all it is easily told,' she began. 'We were on pilgrimage following the valley road some distance from here when we were attacked by bandits. They killed five of our men, but we fought them off -only to find when the battle was over that my sister, Alethea, had been taken.'

'A shameful business, to be sure,' said Hasan. 'But, alas, far too common in these remote regions. This is a wild land in many ways.'

'The assault came at dusk,' Rognvald put in, 'or we might have ' made good the pursuit. As it was, we followed the trail until we lost the light, and were forced to give up the chase.'

'A pity,' sympathized Hasan. 'And the next day, you resumed the search, but…' he sighed, 'it was too late. They were always too far ahead, and eventually you lost the trail.'