Yngvar turned to the others. 'Ready arms!' he cried. 'Follow me!'

With a shout, the knights clattered off. The last was Dag, who paused long enough to ask, 'Would you have me stay to protect you, my lady?'

'No. We will be safe here. Go!'

The knight bounded away. Cait watched as the warriors raced out along the stream; in the near distance, she could see the pool which marked the fording place and, beyond it, the divided slab. Yngvar and Rodrigo reached the tumbled stone, and disappeared through the gap. The others pounded through one after another and were gone. 'They will return soon,' she said with more hope than conviction. 'You will need a mount, Abu.'

When he did not answer, she swivelled in the saddle to look behind her. Abu, one hand still holding to her cloak, sat with his head down as if contemplating the tip of the arrow which had passed through his upper back and now protruded between the bloody fingers of his other hand.

Cait slid from the saddle and caught the wounded youth as he toppled to the ground. She laid him down as gently as she could; forcing calm to her shaking hands, she rolled him on to his side.

The arrow had found its mark in his back just below the shoulder to emerge on the other side between two upper ribs. The iron arrowhead was small, but it was barbed; pulling it out the way it had gone in would do far worse damage, so she thought it best to break off the fletched end and remove it from the front. Grasping the slender wooden shaft in her hand, she tried to break it; the movement brought a groan of pain from Abu, so she decided to leave it for the moment.

'Ahh, God forgive,' he gasped, his voice thin and brittle. 'I am sorry, sharifah. You were proud of me once. I wanted you to be proud of me again. I failed. I am sorry.'

'Never say it.' Removing her cloak, she shook it out and draped it over him. 'I am proud of you, Abu. If not for your markers, we would never have found our way. Rest here a little while I go and fetch Halhuli. The arrow must come out.'

She made to move away, but his hand snaked out and snatched hold of her sleeve.

'You need help, Abu. I will go and quickly return. I will -'

Abu threw aside the cloak and struggled on to an elbow; the effort sent blood spilling from the wound in a scarlet rush. His face contorted with pain. 'Thea,' he said, squeezing his eyes shut. 'I must tell you about Thea.'

'I am listening.' She lowered him back to the ground and replaced the cloak.

'Thea is not here,' he said, gasping. 'She escaped… ran away. I helped her.' He opened his eyes, imploring her to understand.

'Where, Abu? Where did she go?'

Before he could answer he was taken with a fit of coughing which left him panting for breath and unable to speak. 'Rest easy,' she told him. 'I will get some water.'

She dashed to her mount and untied the small waterskin from beside the saddle, and brought it to him. Kneeling down, she drew the stopper and allowed a little water to flow out on to his lips. 'Here,' she said, lifting his head, 'drink.'

He sipped a mouthful of water and then looked at her, his eyes big and bright with pain. 'Listen, sharifah, there is a lake… and a village beside the lake. I learned of it from shepherds. She is there.'

He drank again, swallowing hard, and then laid his head on his arm and closed his eyes.

'Where is the lake?' Cait asked.

When he did not reply, she put her lips close to his ear. 'Please, Abu, tell me. Where is the lake? I must know if I am to find Thea.'

His eyelids fluttered open. His dark eyes were no longer as bright as they had been only a moment before. 'The lake…'

'Yes, Abu, where? Where is it?'

'There…' he said, his voice a breathless whisper. 'The mount of gold…'

'The Mount of Gold? Abu, I do not understand. Tell me, what is the Mount of Gold? Where is it?'

His mouth opened and a small gurgling sound came from his throat as he tried to make the words. 'There…' he gasped at last, staring straight out across the crooked valley. Cait saw the tawny glint of reflected light in his eyes and followed his gaze to a snow-topped peak rising in the near distance; bathed in the light of the westering sun, it glowed with a rich golden hue.

'Is that the mountain?' asked Cait. 'Abu, is that the one you mean?'

She turned and saw that although the reflection of the mountain still filled his eyes with light, sight was already fading. 'Oh, Abu,' she said, her voice cracking. She bent her head and placed her hand on his cheek, her tears falling on to his still face. 'Go with God, my friend,' she whispered, then gathered him in her arms and held him as deep silence descended over them.

Halhuli found her that way-crouched beside the trail, shivering with cold, still holding the young man's corpse. 'Lady Ketmia,' he said, hastening to her side. 'May I assist?'

Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the young man from Cait's grasp and lowered him gently to the ground. He removed the cloak from Abu's body and put it over Cait's shoulders, then, taking hold of the arrow below the head, gave a solid tug and pulled it through the wound. He laid the arrow on the ground, and set about straightening Abu's limbs, placing the knees and feet together and folding the hands over his chest. He closed the young man's eyes and mouth, and as he worked, Cait became aware that he was praying over the body-his low, murmuring chant had not ceased since he began tending Abu's ragged corpse.

Next, he poured some water from the waterskin and washed the young man's hands, feet, and face. He then washed his own hands, dried them, and kneeling beside the body raised his hands and face to heaven and intoned a prayer in Arabic. When he finished, he bowed and touched his forehead to the ground.

'Thank you, Halhuli,' said Cait.

'He will commence his journey with an easier spirit now,' replied the prince's overseer.

At that moment a raw, wordless cry sounded across the valley; it was followed by the savage rattle and clash of weapons. Cait and Halhuli rose and stood gazing toward the gap in the broken slab as the sounds of battle waxed and waned, much as the sound of sea waves tumbling rocks on a pebbled shore.

And then the clamour stopped. Cait held her breath.

She balled the fabric of her cloak in her fists and watched the gap for warriors to appear. 'Lord save us,' she prayed through clenched teeth.

An instant later, Prince Hasan rode through the cleft. He paused at the ford, and was soon joined by Dag and Svein; Rodrigo was next, carrying Paulo with him across the back of his horse, followed by Yngvar and, lastly, Rognvald.

They rode to the foot of the ridge trail where Cait and Halhuli waited. The knights, breathing hard from the exertion of their brief but fearsome toil, wiped sweat from their faces, and extolled one another's skill and bravery.

'The dogs have abandoned the chase,' Rognvald informed her. 'Paulo and Hasan have been wounded. We must get them back to camp at once.'

'My injury is not so bad,' Hasan said, shaking his head. 'But we must not linger here lest Ali Waqqar dares to tempt fate again.'

Rognvald signalled the knights to ride on. As they clattered past, Cait reached out and put her hand to his knee. 'What about Abu?' she asked.

Rognvald heard the sorrow in her voice, looked past her and saw the body of the young man lying still on the ground, the fatal arrow beside him. He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. 'Did he say anything before he died?'

'He told me Alethea escaped,' Cait replied.

'That is something, at least.'

'And I think I know where she may be found.' She quickly explained what Abu had told her, then looked back over her shoulder at his body. 'I do not want him left here.'

'Nor do I.' Rognvald dismounted, crossed quickly to the corpse, lifted it in his strong arms and carried it back to his mount. Cait held the horse while Rognvald secured the body, and then they rode silently back to camp.