A Cele De funeral was a very sacred and special occasion, combining not only prayers and hymns, but stories, songs, and special readings. It culminated in a feast at which family and friends gathered at the banquet table to celebrate the life of the departed and share their fondest recollections. The feast generally began at dusk and continued through the night, finishing at dawn when everyone went out to witness the breaking of the new day and sing their brother and fellow pilgrim on his journey home.

Cait felt sorry that her father had not been able to receive such a funeral; it was his due. Still, she meant to do what she could.

'What is in the box?' asked Alethea. 'Strange they should give us a gift.'

'It is not a gift,' said Cait quietly.

'What is it then?' The younger woman snatched away the box which Cait held reverently in her hands. She turned it this way and that, looking for a way to open it.

'Thea, please.' Cait put her hand on her sister's arm and turned her around. She held out her hand for the box. 'Give it to me now.'

'No/ the young woman sulked, jerking the box away. 'Not until you tell me what's inside.'

Cait frowned, regarding her sister with sour disapproval. 'It is Papa's heart,' she said softly.

'What!' shrieked Alethea. Cait held out her hand, and Thea shoved the box into it with disgust. 'You had them cut out his heart?' she cried, tears welling at once. 'You cruel and thoughtless creature! How could you do vsuch a thing!'

'It was his dying wish,' Caitriona explained simply. 'He wanted his heart to be buried in the church at home.'

Alethea put her face in her hands and wept. Despite her aggravation, Cait felt sorry for her sister-always getting things twisted round and making herself look foolish. She passed the box to Haemur who was standing awkwardly to one side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in embarrassment.

'Take this back to the ship, put it in a safe place, and wait for us there,* Cait told the grizzled old pilot. 'Remember what I told you. It will likely be very late when we return, so keep a light burning at the prow.'

Haemur accepted the lead box with a little bow, and said, 'As you will, my lady. Return when you like, you will find the ship in order and awaiting your command.'

Cait smiled; the old seaman seemed to be going out of his way to demonstrate his acceptance of her as the new master of the vessel. For that, she was grateful. She thanked him and sent him on his way, and then she had begun her work of revenge.

The previous day, the consul had told her that de Bracineaux was a friend of King Baldwin and a guest of the emperor. To find the Templar commander all she had to do was discover which of the many imperial residences was being used by the friends, relations, and entourage of the newly wedded couple. With Thea in tow, she had then begun the tedious and tiring inquiry – a delicate investigation which necessitated shrewdness, tact, and a finely honed sense of diplomacy – particular skills which Cait possessed in fair measure, when she cared to use them.

It was late when they left the Magnaura Palace precinct where Cait had at last been able to tease out the information she required. They had stopped to buy a little fruit and bread and cheese at a market they happened by, and then continued on their way to the Blachernae Palace where the members of the royal wedding entourage were staying as guests of Emperor Manuel Comnenus.

Now, as evening descended around them, Cait settled back in the chair, and allowed herself to think about what lay ahead. She closed her eyes and rehearsed the decisive moment in her mind, trying to imagine it down to the smallest detail so that she should not be taken by surprise.

They were closer to the palace than they knew, and soon Philippianous halted the chair and pointed to an enormous square structure in brick and stone rising from behind a stout wall. 'The palace, my lady,' he said, as if he were the proud owner.

Caitriona observed the flat, undistinguished facade, with its alternating colours of brickwork, and its high-peaked roof shingled with red tile, and decided that it looked more like the Earl's great house in Orkney than the favourite residence of the Holy Roman Empire's exalted ruler.

'This is the palace?' wondered Alethea aloud. Like Cait, she had imagined something far more grand and imposing.

'Indeed, yes,' Philippianous assured them. 'The Palace of Blachernae is renowned. People come from all over the world to see it.'

There were four soldiers standing in the street before a gate wide enough and high enough to allow the royal carriages of kings and princes to pass through with ease. 'Be so kind as to announce us/ Cait instructed.

It would be a pleasure, my lady/ replied their expansive guide.

'Say that Ladies Deborah and Constance de Payens have arrived for their audience with Commander de Bracineaux.'

At this, Alethea, who had been daydreaming about the rich pearl-studded gowns the empress reputedly wore, sat up sharply. Her Greek was not as good as her sister's, but she understood this last without any difficulty. 'What are you saying?' she demanded. Those are not our names.'

'Quiet, Thea,' snapped Cait. 'Do as you are told.'

Philippianous' smiling features arranged themselves into a knowing smirk. He opened his mouth, but Cait cut him off before he could comment. 'Announce us/ she commanded.

Cait turned on her sister. 'Now listen, Thea,' she warned. 'Keep your mouth shut, and do what I tell you, or I will leave you here by yourself. Understand?'

'I still cannot see why we have to -'

'1 mean it!' Cait raised a threatening finger.

Alethea nodded sourly.

'Good. I will explain everything later.'

Philippianous had made their names known to the porter, a hulking drone who waved the chair and its occupants through the gate-eyeing the nubile younger woman lustfully as the two passed. Inside the palace grounds, they proceeded at once to the courtyard and the palace entrance where they were halted by guards, and where, once again, the doors were opened without further question when the commander's name was given.

'Be so kind as to wait here,' Cait told the bearers. 'God willing, we may not be long. If you are ready to depart the moment we return I will double your fee,'

'Most gracious lady,' replied Philippianous grandly, 'we will await your appearance with confident expectation.' He led them to the massive copper-gilded iron doors, where they were escorted into the palace without delay.

Once inside, they were met by an ageing courtier who demanded to know their business. 'We are invited to an audience with Commander de Bracineaux,' Caitriona replied crisply.

The courtier cocked his head to one side and gave the two young women a long, dubious glance. 'Even so?'

'The invitation was issued by the Master himself.' Cait leaned forward and placed her hand on the man's arm, putting her mouth close to his ear. 'He said to tell anyone who asked that we are -she paused precisely long enough to leave no doubt in the courtier's mind that it was a lie, and then added, 'his nieces.'

The elderly courtier pulled away as if burned by her touch. He drew himself up to speak, and Cait thought he might refuse them then and there. Instead, he merely turned on his heel and led them across the entrance hall to a long flight of wooden stairs. Without a word, he indicated that they were to ascend. Cait thanked the servant and, taking the dumbstruck Alethea's hand, proceeded up the stairs without looking back.

They emerged on the next floor and stepped into a large, wood-panelled vestibule connecting three long corridors lined with doors. Two yawning servants leaning against a gilded column regarded the newcomers lazily, but made no move to help them. Cait presented herself and asked in which of the apartments the Templar de Bracineaux might be found. The chamberlain raised a hand, indicated the central corridor, and said, 'Sixth door.'