He raised his hand to her cheek, smiled, and kissed her on the forehead. Just then, one of the men who had been sitting at the table rose and hurried out. Yeshua turned. 'Go your way, Y'hudah,' he called as swift footsteps descended the stair. 'Do what you must, but do it quickly!'

Cait heard a door bang shut in the room below, and then footsteps outside in the street. Shimeon was on his feet. 'Yochanan! Ya'akov! Come with me, we will go and bring him back.'

'No, stay,' said Yeshua. 'Stay. I will be with you only a little longer. Let us rejoice while it is light, for the darkness is coming when no man can rejoice.'

These words were spoken to a stunned silence. Yeshua returned to his place at the table amidst a low rumble of murmuring which grew to fill the room as questions gave way to anxious shouting, and calling on the Master to explain the meaning of his worrying remarks.

The sound filled her ears as a meaningless babble, and Cait looked down at the cup in her hand, and clutched it to her breast. This I will keep and treasure to the end of my life, she thought. She pulled the dove-grey cloak around her shoulders, and gazed with bittersweet longing at the Master, now surrounded by his closest followers who were demanding to know what he meant. She closed her eyes again, and clung to her blessing:

Children more numerous than stars.

Cait slowly became aware that she was lying on the floor before the altar, her cheek cradled on her arm. The cavern sanctuary was silent save for the faint plip… plip… plip which sounded nearby. She raised her head. One of the altar candles had gone out; the other was burning low, and molten wax was splashed steadily on to the bare stone. She rose and glanced around guiltily, as if afraid she had been observed and would now be punished for her presumption. The sanctuary was empty. She was alone.

Then she saw the cup, and the memory of her vision struck her with a force that rocked her back on her heels. She swayed on her feet and clutched the side of the altar to steady herself.

She had been there. She had seen the Saviour. She, Cait, had touched him, and he had touched her. She lifted her fingertips to her forehead where he had kissed her-the place now burned with a tingling sensation as though flames of fire danced there. Inside, she was filled with a strange quivery airiness, as if she had been scoured hollow, poured out, and the newly emptied void filled with effervescent light.

'Lord and Master,' she whispered to herself. 'I want to walk in the True Path once more. Guide me with your Holy Light.'

She stood before the altar, gazing at the cup. Her search for the relic had ended; she had found the Mystic Rose. What is more, having experienced something of the vessel's sacred and mystic power, she knew she stood in the presence of true holiness and was far from worthy. Her hard-hearted, unthinking pursuit of the Mystic Rose was corrupted by ambition and unholy revenge, and she felt the weight of her sin clinging to her, dragging her down like a filthy, bedraggled garment. All she wanted was to be free of it and clean once more.

'Forgive me, Lord,' she sighed, and bent her head. Breathing out a prayer of humble confession, and breathing in the Master's forgiveness, she picked up the Holy Relic and carefully, and with all reverence, replaced it in the hollow at the base of the cross. Closing the little door, she took up the remaining candle and, with a last look around, hurried from the rock-cut sanctuary, through the connecting corridor and the outer passage, quickly retracing her steps from the cave.

The courtyard was dark still, although the cloud-filled sky was blushing pink in the east and all but the brightest stars had faded away. Flitting out from behind the refectory like a shadow, she made her way to the guest lodge and slipped back into her room. With a last look behind her, she closed the door quietly and, removing her boots, crept back into bed, pulling the bedclothes around her to take away the chill.

She lay in bed and shivered-half with the cold, and half with the excitement still tingling through her. She had drunk from the Holy Chalice and a mystical communion had taken place. She had met with God.

This knowledge produced an almost frightening ferment in her soul. It filled her to bursting with an elation that fizzed and burned and threatened to overflow at any moment in wild laughter, or wilder song, or dazzling miracles. Her heart raced; the palms of her hands were hot and dry; her fingers tingled.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she relived the vision of the upper room, remembering the touch of the Lord Jesu as he placed the cup in her hands. It was all she could do to keep from crying out with the ferocious exuberance of her joy.

In a little while, the bell rang and presently she heard the sisters stirring in the yard outside. There came a soft rapping at her door and Sister Besa entered. 'My lady, it is time for morning prayers,' she said. 'If you would like to join us, you would be most welcome.'

'Thank you,' said Cait. 'Of course I will join you. I would like nothing better.' Throwing back the bedclothes, she quickly slipped her feet back into her boots, and followed the nun out into the courtyard where they fell into place behind the other sisters making their way to the refectory.

During the winter, morning prayers were held in the long, oven-warmed hall. As Cait entered she heard a shrill squeal and was instantly enfolded in a fierce embrace. 'Thea!' she gasped before the air was squeezed from her lungs.

'Oh, Cait!' Alethea clasped her tightly, as if she would obliterate the days of their separation through physical force. 'The abbess told me you were here. I wanted to see you right away.' She thrust Cait at arm's length. 'You look well, Cait. You do.'

'And you, Thea,' replied Cait. Her eyes travelled to her sister's shaven pate.

Suddenly mindful of her shorn locks, Thea released her sister and raised a hand to her head. 'I am a nun now,' she said, smiling self-consciously. She paused, reflecting on the wonder of it, and then raced on once more. 'But Cait, there is so much to tell you. There was a ceremony last night. I wish you had been there. It was wonderful. I wish you could have seen it.'

'She did.' Abbess Annora was standing not two paces away, regarding Cait with a stern expression. 'Did you not?'

'Truly?' asked Alethea. 'You saw the ceremony?'

'It is true,' Cait admitted with genuine contrition. 'I heard the bell and followed the sisters into the cavern. I saw it all.'

'And you have drunk from the Holy Cup,' the abbess said, stepping close.

'Cait!' gasped Thea, her dark eyes growing wide.

'It is true,' Cait admitted. To the abbess she said, 'I meant no disrespect. Indeed, I did not know it was against the rule of the order. I merely thought to -'

The abbess cut short her explanation. 'It is nothing so simple as a rule of the order. There are far more serious implications.'

'I am sorry,' she said. 'Truly, I am. But how did you know?'

'Do you think someone so long in the service of the chalice would not know in the instant I saw you?' The abbess frowned with sharp displeasure. 'Come with me-both of you. Sister Besa, you come, too.'

Leaving one of the other nuns to lead prayers, Sister Annora led them to her room at the end of the hall, sat them down on the bed, and closed the door. Sister Besa, uncertain about what had happened, took her place before the door.

'Please,' began Cait, 'you have every right to be angry. I do not blame you in the least. I would not have interfered in the ceremony-only, I was that desperate to see Alethea at long last. I beg your forgiveness. I meant no harm.'

'That is a matter of small consequence.' The abbess crossed her arms over her narrow chest, and regarded Cait with a hawk-like stare. 'Tell me, did you see anything when you drank from the cup?'