'Then this is where I leave you,' the knight said to the women as he dismounted. He helped the nuns down from the saddle, and then watched as they tripped lightly across the fragile-looking bridge. Then it was Cait's turn. Rognvald wished her God's own speed, and said, 'I pray you find all is well, and eagerly await your return.'

Cait, watching the swaying bridge with mounting apprehension, nodded; gripping the side ropes in either hand she took a deep breath and started across, her eyes fixed firmly on the waiting figure o›f Sister Efa. Rognvald watched until she had safely reached the other side where she turned and waved him farewell, then he gathered up the reins, turned the horses, and returned to the settlement.

Beyond the chasm, the trail passed between two steep baire rock slopes before arriving at a low tunnel which had been chiselled out of the mountain stone. Although the tunnel was dark and damp, it was not long, and Cait emerged on the other side to find tfce trail winding gently down beside a racing mountain stream. The three women walked along, quiet in one another's company, an d soon arrived at a stand of tall thin birch trees.

They walked through the wood, which ended shortly, ar~id Cait stepped out from among the trees into a high mountain glade. At the far end of the snow-drifted meadow, she could see a crramped huddle of buildings which, she assumed, formed the Abbey- of the Grey Marys.

They followed the trail beside the stream, and soon cames to the first of the outbuildings: two simple barns with adjoining stone enclosures for sheep and goats, and four modest but well-thiatched storehouses, solid-looking on their stone foundations. Ne^xt they passed the square expanse of a field, its rippling ridges visible beneath thick snow. At one end of the field was an orcr-iard of small, well-tended trees; on one side of the grove stood a ffine tall stack c^ chopped wood, and on the other side was a triple row of beehives; the familiar sight of their high-mounded white hurrnps sent a pang of homely longing through Cait and her heart quickaened.

Even from a distance she could tell that this was a place oof order and peace, of humble industry and dutiful purpose. Closer, sshe saw the tidy yard, its smooth-cobbled paving swept clean of snow. On opposite sides of the yard were long rows of individual cells, each with a single tiny window and a low wooden door; on the third side of the yard stood a large, amply proportioned house of two floors with shuttered windows and, rising sharply behind this larger structure, a rugged tawny shoulder of the mountain whose sheltering peak soared high above the neat little abbey.

There was no church or chapel that she could see, but the abbey's unadorned, uncluttered simplicity appealed to Cait; she warmed to the place even before she heard the singing-which stopped her in her tracks with its clear, angelic mellifluence.

'What is that?' she said, her breath catching in her throat.

The two sisters glanced at one another. 'It is the prayer before the midday meal, my lady,' answered Siaran.

'It is beautiful,' Cait replied, and was instantly reminded of Abbot Emlyn's strong melodious voice as he stood before the festal table in Murdo's hall, head back, arms spread wide, a song of blessing bubbling up from his throat as from a deep sweet spring. It was, she realized, the second time in as many days that she had been brought up short by singing-once in the village and now here. 'It reminded me of something,' she said, as a pang of yearning pierced her heart. It reminded me of home.

'Alethea will be there,' she said, stirring herself once more. 'Let us go and join them.'

The three hurried on, quickly crossing the yard and coming to the door of the refectory. The singing had stopped and Cait could hear the low murmur of voices from within. She paused at the door and allowed Sister Efa to open it and beckon her inside.

Trembling with anticipation, she stepped lightly across the threshold. The large room was dim, but warm; a single wide table occupied the centre of the room with benches on either side for the thirty or so nuns who had gathered for their meal. Talk ceased as Cait stepped into the room, and every face turned towards her. She glanced the length of the table for Alethea, but did not see her.

'Welcome,' said a kindly voice, and Cait turned to see a trim elderly woman hastening towards her. She was dressed as the others in a long robe of undyed wool and, like old Abbot Emlyn back home, wore a large wooden cross on a leather loop around her neck. Her hair was white, and the bones stood out on her wrists and hands, but her step was quick and her dark eyes keen. 'I am Abbess Annora. We are just beginning our meal. Please, join us.'

'God be good to you. I am looking for my sister,' said Cait, scanning the table once more. 'Brother Timotheus told me she would be here.'

The older woman smiled. 'You must be Caitriona. Alethea has told us about you.' Addressing the nuns at table, the abbess announced the identity of their visitor, and bade the sisters make her welcome. Cait offered them a hurried greeting, then once more turned to the abbess, who said, 'Alethea has been praying for you.'

'Then she is here,' said Cait, hope flickering bright once more. 'Where is she? Can you tell her I am here? She will want to know I have found her at last.'

'Are you hungry?' asked the abbess. 'Would you like something to eat after your long walk?'

'Thank you, no,' said Cait, frustration sharpening her tone. 'Please, I want to see my sister.'

'Come with me.' She took Cait by the elbow and led her through a door at the far end of the refectory. The room they entered was small, containing only a simple straw pallet bed in a raised box, a chair, and a table. In one corner a fire cracked brightly on a tiny stone hearth.

'Your sister is well,' said Abbess Annora, closing the door behind them. 'Moreover, she is happy. But you cannot see her just now.'

'Why?' demanded Cait, feeling the heat of frustration leap up within her. Forcing down her anger, she said, 'Please-you must tell me. I have come a very long way, and -'

'Caitriona,' said the elderly nun, her voice soft and caressing as a mother's. 'Your sister is in preparation for a special ceremony which will take place tonight.'

'A ceremony…' repeated Cait. Would she never see her sister again? 'I do not understand. What kind of ceremony?'

'Alethea has been called to join our order. Tonight she will take the first step towards becoming one of us.'

'Alethea -' Cait stared in disbelief at the kindly abbess '- to become a nun.'

'That is her dearest wish.'

The strength seemed to flow from Cait's legs; she sat down on the edge of the box bed. 'But how can that be?'

'Although she has not been with us long, Alethea has changed. The change is profound and it is genuine. She is as astonished by this as anyone.' Annora smiled. 'She has embraced the order with a zeal which gladdens the hearts of all who see her.'

Cait shook her head from side to side, trying to take it in. 'But we've come all this way,' she said, fighting to keep her voice steady against the emotions boiling within her. 'Are you telling me that she will not be coming back with us?'

'Caitriona,' the abbess said gently, 'try to understand. Alethea has heard the call of God, and she has answered. Her place is here.'

'I want to see her,' Cait said bluntly. 'I want to see her now.'

'Rest assured, you will see her-all in good time. Alethea is alone with God and cannot be disturbed.'

'In good time?' Cait snapped, unable to hold back her frustration any longer. 'Is she a prisoner here?' She stood abruptly, fists tight, arms stiff at her sides. 'I have endured hardships beyond sufferance. I have spent day after day after day in the saddle-cold and hungry and often wet, but what of that? Four warriors, a priest and one brave servant have forfeited their lives in pursuit of her freedom-they lie cold in their graves beside the trail and,' her voice faltered,'- and Alethea is not to be disturbed?