When the Seljuqs had gone, he stirred and made to step from the caim. 'Wait,' cautioned Emlyn.

Murdo looked down at the circle scratched in the dirt. Emlyn knelt and put his hands together, spoke a silent prayer, and then put his hand to the circle and rubbed out a portion of the mark, breaking the caim. 'Now we can go.'

They stepped from the broken ring, and it seemed to Murdo as if he were waking from a dream. Emlyn, on the other hand, raised his hands and began a paean of praise for God's wide mercy and saving power. 'We are alive, Murdo!' he cried. 'Rejoice and praise God!'

'You said you would save us,' Murdo agreed, 'and you did.'

'I did nothing but call upon God,' the priest corrected mildly. 'It was Our Lord who delivered us out of the hands of the enemy.'

'What did you tell him?' asked Murdo. 'The Turk battlechief -what did you say to him?'

'La ilaha ilia 'Llah,' repeated the monk. 'It is all the Arabic I know. It means: "there is no God but God alone," and it is the one point on which all Christians and Muhammedans agree. I learned it from the brothers at Aries. You should rejoice in your good fortune, Murdo. It is God's good pleasure that we should yet remain in the land of the living. We were spared! Allelujah!'

Murdo nodded, still trying to comprehend what had happened. Had the charmed circle-the caim-saved them? Or, had the Turks simply had more urgent affairs to pursue? Perhaps the lives of a half-mad monk and a ragged, unarmed youth were not worth taking. Perhaps there was nothing more to it than that.

'We were rescued out of the hands of Death,' Emlyn continued, his face glowing with delight. 'Our Good Shepherd has brought us through the Valley of the Shadow; he has shown favour to us according to his great and generous mercy. Today is a day to rejoice in the Lord and be glad.'

'I am glad,' Murdo insisted, and turned to look for the camel.

They found the lazy animal at rest in the scant shade of the little brush-topped hillock they had been making for when the Turks came upon them. The beast was asleep, motionless, its head upright, eyes closed, its dusty colour blending into the dun-coloured land around it-which is why, Murdo decided, he had not seen it when first he looked.

Murdo took hold of the rein rope, and began yanking at it to rouse the creature. It was then he noticed all the water had been spilled; the clumsy animal had sloshed every last drop from the pots as it swayed and tilted to fold its long legs under its belly.

'There is no more water,' Murdo said, indicating the empty pots as the monk joined him. 'Do you have a charm for that, too?'

Emlyn gave him a disapproving frown. 'O, ye of little faith.'

Murdo made no further comment and, with both of them yelling and tugging on the rope, they succeeded in rousing the reluctant beast. The camel gave out a loud blatter of complaint as it climbed awkwardly onto its legs. Emlyn led the animal to the road, and Murdo walked beside, pausing to retrieve his sword; they continued on-the priest rejoicing in God's saving power, and Murdo in a more reflective mood. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they reached the rise over which the Turks had disappeared.

It came into Murdo's mind that now he knew why the road had been so lonely, why they had seen no sign of anyone at any of the farms and settlements they had passed. Most likely, the Seljuq army had been travelling this way for some time, driving the inhabitants into hiding.

Upon arriving at the top of the rise, they paused to look down the other side. In the glare of the setting sun they saw the road falling away in a long, gently rolling descent to the sea which gleamed as a thin silver strip on the horizon. Away to the left, still far off but easily visible as a lighter glimmer amidst the shimmering sea, was the port of Jaffa. They stood for a moment and gazed upon their destination.

'It looks as if they are making for Jaffa, too,' observed Emlyn, pointing down the slope to the white cloud of dust which marked the passage of the Seljuq war host.

'I suppose so,' said Murdo.

'Maybe we should go back to Jerusalem,' the monk suggested helpfully.

'We cannot go back to Jerusalem,' Murdo told him. 'We have no water. Jaffa is closer. We can make it that far at least.'

'But if there is going to be fighting at Jaffa -

'We have no choice,' replied Murdo, moving off.

The sun set and the evening twilight gathered around them. For the first time since leaving Jerusalem, Murdo felt the gnawing ache of hunger in his empty stomach. His mouth was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth; he wished he had drunk some more when he had the chance.

The air began to cool as the last glimmer of twilight left the sky and night closed around them. They walked on through the night, until fatigue at last overtook them and they found a place beside the road to rest. They tethered the camel without unloading it, and then settled themselves for the night. Exhausted by the rigours of the day, Murdo took a stone for his head and slipped into a deep dreamless sleep, awaking only to the rumble of distant hooves.

Murdo lay for a moment, listening to the sound seeping up from the ground through the stone on which he rested. The rumbling increased even as he listened, and he knew the riders were not far off. He rose quickly and looked around; the sky was already light. The sun had risen, but could not yet be seen from where they were below the ridge.

Rolling to his knees, he took Emlyn by the shoulder and shook him hard. The sleepy cleric came awake with a start. 'What? What?'

'Horses,' Murdo said. 'We should get out of sight before they see us.' Casting a glance up the long slope, he spied a little rocky outcrop behind which they could hide. Leaving the camel to sleep, they hurried up to the rocks, lay on their stomachs, and waited. It was not long before the first riders came into view. 'Who are they? Can you see?' asked Emlyn.

'No, they are too far away, and the light is not so good.'

Hunkering down behind the rocks, they waited. The jingle of the horses' tack could be heard easily now-a light tinkling sound above the drumming of the hooves. The riders came on at a quick, yet measured pace-not as if they were chasing anyone, nor trying to escape. Murdo raised his head and looked again towards the road. At that moment, the sun broke over the ridgetop, sending its rays down the slope and illuminating a large company of riders.

'Crusaders!' cried Murdo. 'Emlyn look! We are saved!' He leapt to his feet and gave a shout, waving his arms. 'Here! Here!'

But the riders, if they saw him, took not the slightest interest. Not one of them so much as slackened his pace, but the whole company-perhaps a hundred knights in all-continued on towards Jaffa.

'They do not see us,' Emlyn said. 'We must warn them about the Turks! Murdo, hurry! Run and tell them!'

Murdo ran to the road as quickly as the rough ground allowed, and stood waving his arms and yelling for the crusaders to stop. Aside from drawing a passing glance from several of the riders, he received no response. Emlyn joined him and added his voice to that of Murdo's. Perhaps because the pair of them, so far from any habitation, presented such an unlikely prospect, they succeeded only in arresting one of the last of the knights, who reined aside to glare down at them and demand what business they had accosting soldiers in the service of the Defender of the Holy Sepulchre.

'We are trying to warn you,' Emlyn said quickly. 'We have seen Seljuqs on this road.'

'There are always Turks around,' sniffed the knight. 'Raiding parties. It means nothing.'

'It was more than a raiding party,' maintained the cleric.

'Are you a chief of battle that you know about such things?' demanded the crusader. He pulled on the reins and made to spur his mount away.