'Never mind,' said Murdo. 'Where is the treasure?'

'You recovered the lance, praise God!' He swallowed a gulp of air. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, 'There are too many nobles here for my liking. What are we to do about them?'

'Trust me,' replied Murdo. 'Now tell me-my father's treasure, where is it?'

The priest leaned nearer. 'It's here, aboard this very ship-where else should it be?' Glancing around, he said, 'Maybe you should give the lance to me. I could -'

'Hear me, Emlyn,' warned Murdo, 'say nothing. Whatever happens, hold your tongue.'

'Be careful, Murdo. These men will stop at nothing to have their way. Do not give in to them.'

'I mean it!' Murdo growled sharply. Grasping the priest by the wrist, he squeezed hard. 'Whatever I say or do, just keep quiet and stand aside. Understand?'

Stunned, Emlyn nodded and stepped away, rubbing his wrist.

Turning from the monk, Murdo faced Bohemond. 'Thank you for saving me,' he said, lowering his head in dutiful respect. 'I fear I would be drowned now if you had not arrived when you did.'

'And that would have been a great pity,' Bohemond told him. 'To lose both the Holy Lance and its most ardent protector at a stroke it does not bear thinking about. Therefore, let us pass on to happier fields of discussion.' He put out his hands to Magnus and Murdo. 'Sit with me, friends, and let us decide what is best to do.' They settled themselves on rowing benches. Indicating the silk-wrapped object in Murdo's lap, the count said, 'Now then, I would hear how the Sacred Lance came into your possession.'

Murdo nodded, and began his tale; he described how, after Count Bohemond and his troops had departed to engage the Turks, he had followed and heard the clash on the strand. He told how, upon climbing the hills for a better look, he had discovered the tent hidden among the dunes. 'The amir's treasure was inside the tent,' he concluded simply. 'I found the Holy Lance and came away with it. The Turks returned before I could get more.'

'Remarkable,' said Bohemond, shaking his head slowly. 'You have rescued the holy relic from its enemies-both Turk and Christian. I commend you…' he hesitated. 'Please, I still do not know your name.'

'I am Murdo, son of Lord Ranulf of Dyrness,' he answered, glancing at Magnus, who regarded him thoughtfully, but showed no recognition of the name.

Bohemond received the name with a gracious nod, and continued, 'I commend you, Murdo, Son of Ranulf of Dyrness. Your bravery shall be rewarded. I pledge a thousand pieces of silver for the return of the lance.' So saying, he extended his hand to take possession of the weapon.

'Murdo, no!' cried Emlyn, unable to help himself. 'Please, for the love of God, you must not -'

Murdo silenced him with a single sharp look, and turned once more to Bohemond. 'Again, lord, you have my thanks,' he replied, maintaining his grip on the iron lance. 'Forgive me, but I will take nothing from your hand for the return of the relic. I have my own reasons for what I did, and it is not right that anyone should amass profit upon the sacrifice of Christian lives. It will be enough for me to see the lance returned to its rightful place.'

Bohemond's expression became shrewd. 'More remarkable still,' he murmured.

King Magnus, who had taken in everything in silence, now leaned forward and, speaking in Norse, addressed Murdo directly, 'Son, think carefully about what you are saying. Jarl Bohemond here is a powerful man, and here he stands ready to give you anything you ask. Only give us the spear, and I will see you live to enjoy your reward.'

Murdo perceived the implied threat, but had already decided to brazen out his plan come what may. 'I thank you for your concern, lord,' he replied in polite Latin. 'Pray, do not think me disrespectful if I refuse your kind reward. For, what good is silver when a man's land has been stolen, and his family turned out of their rightful home?'

King Magnus was not slow to grasp Murdo's meaning. 'If this is what troubles you, my friend, then your hardship is at an end. As I am King of Norway and Orkneyjar, I will see justice served.'

'Very well,' replied Murdo, inclining his head in assent. 'I ask for no more than that.'

'Splendid!' cried Bohemond, slapping Murdo on the back. 'It is agreed.'

'Now then,' the king said, 'tell me who has perpetrated this offence, and when we return to the Dark Isles I will have the man summoned and demand an accounting for his crimes.'

'There is no need to wait for our return to Orkneyjar,' Murdo answered bluntly. 'The man I speak of is here among us even now.'

'Here!' wondered Magnus, drawing back suddenly as if suspecting a trap. Casting a quick, worried glance at his liegemen, he said, 'Certainly, you must be mistaken.'

'There is no mistake, Murdo assured him. Pointing to the rank of onlooking noblemen, he declared, 'Orin Broad-Foot is that man.'

Magnus, aghast and dismayed, stared at Murdo, and then at his vassal lord, who was as surprised as his king at this startling accusation. Bohemond appeared bemused; he regarded Murdo wonderingly, as the Norse lord rose and stepped quickly to his nobleman. The two held close conversation for a moment while all those about them shuffled and murmured in restless anticipation.

'This is a most difficult matter,' Magnus announced, turning from his consultation. 'It seems my son, Prince Sigurd, is responsible for taking your lands. Naturally, Lord Orin knew nothing of your family's plight and he is not to blame in this matter.'

'God knows it is true,' Orin swore. 'If I had known the isle belonged to your father, I would never have taken it. But I had it on good faith from the bishop that those lands had fallen forfeit when Jarl Erlend was dethroned.'

Magnus nodded, satisfied with his lord's declaration of innocence. 'For this reason,' he continued, 'I do not think justice would be accomplished by punishing a good man for a crime which he neither knew nor intended.' Murdo opened his mouth to protest, but the king, anticipating his complaint, raised a hand to stay him. 'Still, it is not right that you and yours should bear such ill-fortune. I would be a worthless king indeed if I did not offer some remedy for injuries caused by my son's inexperience.'

Bohemond nodded approvingly, and the noblemen added their endorsement of the king's judgement with grunts and growls of support. 'Therefore,' Magnus resumed, 'I would make amends to you and your family and vassals by offering you other lands on which to build and settle.' He paused to take in Murdo's sour disposition, and then added, 'However great your lands in Orkneyjar, ten times that much again shall be given to you.'

'There is no estate in all Orkneyjar so big as that,' Murdo observed somewhat warily.

'That may be as you say,' answered Magnus. 'So I will give you land in Caithness-a portion of the kingdom granted me by Malcolm, King of the Scots. I give it right freely, and welcome you to take it.' He offered his hand to Murdo-the gesture of a Norseman when striking a bargain.

Realizing he had achieved a boon far greater than anything he would have dared ask, Murdo rose to his feet. 'My father, Lord Ranulf, fell at Jerusalem,' he said. 'But if he were standing here before you, I know he would accept your generous offer, freely forgiving any grievance or ill-feeling towards Lord Orin, or Prince Sigurd. Therefore, in honour of my father, I accept.' He grasped the offered hand, thereby sealing the bargain. 'Know, too, that my father would want to see the Holy Lance placed in safe and trustworthy hands for the good of all.'

With that, Murdo delivered the lance to Count Bohemond, who received it gladly, then stood at once, crossed to the rail, and lofted the silk-wrapped weapon above his head to the rapturous delight of the crowd who yet stood waiting to see how the confrontation would be resolved. 'The Holy Lance is recovered!' he called. 'Praise God, and give thanks for its swift return.'