'Do it!' challenged the knight. 'We will find it again easily.'

'You might,' allowed Murdo. 'Then again, you might not. Shall we put your faith to the test?'

The knight glared at him. 'I will gut you like a fish and throw the bloody pieces to the dogs if you drop that lance.'

The crowd began muttering again, and several made bold to advance a step nearer. Murdo took one hand away from the spear and let it slip. The throng gasped and shrank back in horror.

Murdo frowned. The thing was not going as he had anticipated. Moreover, the length of iron was heavy and his arm was starting to tire. He did not know how much longer he could hold it outstretched with the weight of the lance at the end. He would have to put it down soon, and then what?

'Hear now,' said the nobleman. 'If you but give the lance to me at once, I will see you absolved of your theft.'

'I did not steal -' Murdo began, but never finished. He heard the wet splosh of water spilling onto the deck and whirled to see two men slip over the side and into the boat. 'Gorm! Help!' he cried as the two men rushed upon him.

Murdo threw the end of the lance into the face of the first one, who ducked the blow. He jabbed at the second, who made a grab and somehow caught hold of the silk-wrapped iron and tried to yank it from him. Murdo hung on, and the two pulled him into their grasp. They heaved him up onto the rail where he thrashed and squirmed, clinging desperately to the lance.

The crowd, seeing the fight, began clamouring for the two attackers to throw him in. Those nearest the boat made swiping lunges at him from the wharf, trying to pull him down.

'Peace!'

Even above the outcry of the crowd, Murdo heard the shout. It sounded twice again before it had any effect, and by then Murdo, like everyone else on the wharf, knew that someone of unassailable authority had arrived.

In the name of God, I pray you cease and desist this unseemly display.' The voice was deep and resonant, and loud enough to be heard from one end of the wharf to the other.

The crowd calmed under its stern admonition, and Murdo turned his eyes to see the throng parting to make way for a tall man on a warhorse. There were half a dozen or more knights with him, and all had swords drawn and shields at the ready.

'You there, on the boat,' the man called. 'Release him and stand easy, or answer to me for your disobedience.'

The soldiers reacted instantly to the stranger's command. Much to Murdo's relief they pulled him back aboard the boat and eased their hold on him.

'Step away from him,' the tall man instructed, and the two reluctantly obeyed.

Murdo straightened and found himself looking into the quick, intelligent eyes of Count Bohemond. He sat his saddle easily at the edge of the quay where he calmly regarded Murdo. 'God be good to you, friend,' he said. 'I think we know each other do we not?'

'Yes, my lord,' replied Murdo. 'We met yesterday outside the walls.'

'It seems you have roused the ire of half the people of Jaffa, and this before the sun has quartered the sky. I would hear how you performed this prodigious feat.'

'That is easily told,' Murdo said. 'I have the Holy Lance, and they,' he indicated Baldwin's knights, 'would take it from me by force.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed Bohemond. 'Your tale fascinates me, I confess. I would hear the whole of it. Pray, continue.'

'I will, my lord, and gladly,' Murdo replied. 'Give me but space enough and time, and I will tell you all you wish to hear. Nor will you call me thief when I am done.'

'Good man,' answered the Count of Antioch. 'You speak well for yourself. Indeed, I would suggest that you speak very like a certain nobleman who has earned my highest regard in these last weeks. Can it be that you and he are kinsmen?'

'I cannot think it likely, lord count,' Murdo replied. 'There are few pilgrims from the northern isles, and fewer still from Orkneyjar.'

'But he is the king of the northern isles,' the prince declared. 'I am speaking of my vassal, King Magnus-do you know him?'

'I know him-that is to say, I made the pilgrimage with some of his men,' Murdo answered.

Bohemond smiled broadly at this. Raising himself in his stirrups, he turned and called out, 'Here! Magnus! I have found one of your countrymen!'

There was a shifting movement of the crowd behind Bohemond's horse, and the familiar figure of King Magnus stepped out from among his bodyguard. Crowding in behind him, Murdo recognized the round figure of Brother Emlyn, trying desperately to squeeze through the tight-pressed throng.

'Hey-hey,' said Magnus by way of greeting. 'What have we here?'

'This fellow tells me he came to the Holy Land on one of your ships. Do you know him?'

Magnus cocked his head to one side and studied Murdo for a moment. 'He does appear familiar. If he says he sailed with me, I take him at his word and claim him as one of my own.'

'I sailed with Jon Wing, my lord,' Murdo told the king. 'It was his ship that brought your priests-one of whom came to Jaffa with me.' Murdo pointed into the crowd below. 'He is here now; you can ask him if you do not believe me.'

At that moment, the foremost of Count Baldwin's knights interrupted with a shout. 'Enough of this! Serious business lies before us, and you prattle away like spinsters over a pie.' Flinging out a hand to point at Murdo, he said, 'This man is a liar and a thief. He has stolen the Holy Lance, and we will see it returned to its rightful place.'

Bohemond looked at the man, his expression placid and good-natured. 'Why do you call him liar? He has freely admitted possessing the sacred relic; where is the lie?'

The nobleman glowered at Bohemond. 'The lance belongs to Lord Godfrey, and you know it.'

'The Holy Lance belongs to the Holy Church and her people. But, leaving that aside, do you deny that it was taken from your comrades in the battle?'

'You know well that it was,' the soldier spat. 'Godfrey's troops were attacked within sight of the walls and the lance carried off.'

'Are you saying that this unarmed youth defeated Godfrey's army all by himself and stole the relic for himself? Is that what you imagined happened?' Bohemond inquired innocently.

'You twist my words,' the knight growled. 'You know it was the Turks.'

'That is the first true word you have spoken,' Bohemond said. 'Yes, it was the Turks. We have laboured long against them this night, and have come fresh from the battlefield.' Raising his hand to Murdo, the count concluded, 'If this fellow has risked his life to recover the lance which was lost at your comrades' hands, it seems to me that instead of seeking his skin, you ought rather to be thanking him and heaping rewards and praise upon his head.'

The knight grumbled at Bohemond's assessment, but made no outright challenge to the count's version of affairs. He and his companions glared their displeasure, but held their tongues. Turning once more to Murdo, the Count of Antioch said, 'It would be my pleasure to sit with you and King Magnus, and discuss this matter with the propriety it deserves. If you would allow us to come aboard, I give you my word nothing ill will befall you.'

'Very well,' agreed Murdo, 'only allow the priest to join us, and I will tell you all I know.'

The count dismounted and placed his men along the quayside to guard the ship; meanwhile, Gorm quickly produced the plank to allow the lords and their noblemen to board the vessel more easily. Murdo soon found himself clutching the lance and standing face to face with his unanticipated defender, and a dozen or more noblemen including Orin Broad-Foot, and the ever-suspicious Bayard. Brother Emlyn bustled up the plank and came to stand breathlessly beside him.

'I waited all night, and when you did not return, I thought to go to the gate to see -