The king turned and started away again. Murdo, risking all he might gain, made one last attempt to change the king's mind. 'If I found someone to travel with me, my lord, would you agree then?'

Magnus made a dismissive gesture with his hand. 'If you can find anyone willing to forfeit his portion of the plunder, then you may depart with my blessing.' He chuckled mirthlessly. 'Even so, if I know my men at all, you will still be trying to convince them the day we sail from Jaffa.'

'I will go with him,' offered Emlyn, stepping forward.

Magnus frowned.

'If you would permit me, lord,' the monk hastened to add, 'I might accompany him as far as Jaffa, and await your arrival there. It would be no hardship to me, since, as a priest, I would not gain a share of the treasure anyway.'

'Very well,' agreed Magnus impatiently, 'let it be as you say. I will bow to my wise counsellor's judgement. Go, both of you, with my blessing. May God grant you safe passage. Now, if you will permit me, I must join Lord Taranto.'

As the king and his nobles went on their way, Emlyn said, 'Come, we will tell Ronan and Fionn, and bid them farewell. Then, we shall be on our way.'

They found Ronan as he prepared to attend Lord Magnus, and Murdo bade him farewell. 'Why farewell?' he asked. 'It cannot be that you are leaving.'

'I am,' said Murdo adamantly. He explained the bargain he had made with King Magnus, and Emlyn's offer to accompany him as far as Jaffa. 'The good brother will see me safely on a stout ship, but I would go with a better heart if you would give me a blessing.'

'You need never ask, Murdo, my heart,' Ronan told him. 'The High King of Heaven holds you in the hollow of his hand, and his angels stand ready to defend you.' He regarded Murdo fondly. 'If I thought anything I said could change your mind, I would counsel you to stay. It would be a waste of breath, I fear.' Stretching his right hand over the young man's head, he said, 'The Good Lord bless you and keep you, and be gracious to you, and may the light of his countenance shine upon you and give you peace wheresoever you may go.'

He embraced Murdo then, bade him farewell, and said, 'Have you told Jon Wing your plans?'

'You say fare well for me,' Murdo answered. 'He has gone off with the others.'

'Find him, Murdo,' Ronan urged. 'He will want to see you well away.'

'Tell him I am grateful for his care, and that if he should find me when next he comes to Orkneyjar I will fill the welcome bowl with good brown ale.'

The heat rising from the bare ground met the walkers' faces like the blast from an oven as they moved out from the shadowed tunnel of the gate. The sun was a harsh yellow glow in a sky bleached pale by the heat and dust. Black columns of carrion birds still wheeled in the dead air above the city; their screeks and squawks could be heard falling from on high with an abrasive incessance.

Upon passing through the gate, Murdo turned quickly onto the Hebron road rising towards Mount Zion and the Church of Saint Mary. 'How will you get your father's belongings to the ship?'

'You will see,' replied Murdo, and would say no more.

In a short while they came in sight of the little farming settlement where Ronan had borrowed the camel and Emlyn received his answer. Murdo turned off the road and onto the track leading to the farm. 'So, you think to borrow the fellow's camel again. Do you think he will give it to you?'

'He will when I show him the gold.'

They walked on, and arrived at the cluster of small, white-washed, baked mud buildings. As they entered the yard, a skinny brown dog came from around the side of the house and started barking. The farmer appeared in the doorway a moment later and started to shout. Then he saw who it was, and ran out into the yard, seized Murdo's hand and kissed it – all the while babbling in the queer speech of the Holy Land's peasants.

'What is he saying?' demanded Murdo.

Emlyn looked at the farmer and shook his head. 'He is speaking Aramaic, I believe. Ronan knows Aramaic, not me.'

Murdo rolled his eyes. Retrieving his hand from the farmer, he dipped the fingers of his right hand into his belt and withdrew a gold bezant. He then pointed to the camel which was kneeling beside the post in the yard. The farmer babbled something and pointed to the beast, nodding enthusiastically. He turned and shouted towards the house, whereupon his brown wife emerged and, with a shy sideways glance at Murdo, bustled off towards the camel. She took up a stick, and struck the animal on the foreshoulder, clucking her tongue and hissing at it. The animal rose leisurely and, while the woman untied the tether, the farmer gibbered at Murdo, who merely nodded and smiled.

The task finished, the woman then joined her husband, and she, too, kissed Murdo's hand, whereupon Murdo produced a second gold bezant and gave it to her. She snatched the coin away and hid it in a knot in her mantle almost before her husband knew she had it. The farmer's eyes grew wide at his great good fortune, and he began babbling more ecstatically than ever.

With difficulty, Murdo extracted himself from the zealous veneration of the farmer and his wife, and set off again, leading his purchase. He bade the peasants farewell as they passed from the yard, though he knew they would not understand him.

'I wonder if they know they will never see their camel again?' mused Emlyn as they started down the hill towards the road once more.

'That is what the second coin was for,' Murdo replied.

'Yes, I thought as much,' Emlyn agreed approvingly.

'Look there,' said Murdo, pointing to the road below where a company of knights were just then passing. 'I wonder if it means the council is finished at last.'

'Who is it? Can you tell?' asked Emlyn, squinting his eyes. 'Is it Baldwin?'

'No, not Baldwin,' answered Murdo. 'I do not know who it is.'

The mounted soldiers passed out of sight long before the two on foot reached the road, and no more were seen as they climbed the steep slope of the Holy Mountain. They passed the church, and moved through the crowds huddled around the walls to find the gates flung wide and the yard within filled with horses and armed men. Murdo did not hesitate, but went in straight away before anyone could stop him.

They had taken but two steps past the threshold however, when they were met by a very distracted gatekeeper. 'I am sorry,' he said. 'No one must enter. We are closing our doors for the night by order of the emperor.'

'Please,' said Emlyn, 'we will not disturb anyone. We wish only to retrieve the remains of this man's family from the catacombs, and we will be on our way.'

The gateman frowned. 'It is the emperor's command!' he insisted, trying to push them back out.

'You did not open the gates to us,' Murdo told him. 'The gate was open and we came in. If anyone asks, you can tell them we were already inside.'

'I dare not!' shrieked the man. 'The emperor-'

'Is the emperor here?' wondered Emlyn, looking at the commotion in the yard.

'It is the Grand Drungarius, the emperor's personal envoy,' the worried gateman replied. 'He has just returned from the council at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Now you must leave at once. Please, it will be on my head if anyone finds out.' He clutched at Murdo's sleeve as if to pull him out.

Murdo whirled on the porter; his hand snaked out and caught the fellow by the wrist and gripped it hard. 'I am going to fetch my father's remains from the catacombs,' he said, putting his face close to the gateman's. 'When I have done that, I will be on my way. You can help us, or you can stand aside.'

The porter blanched and looked to his fellow cleric for help. 'You see how it is,' said Emlyn. 'It will only take a moment, and no one will even know we are here.'