Ronan and Jon reached the edge of the quay and started up the plank. 'Hail, Murdo! Emlyn! God be good to you,' called the elder monk. 'We hoped we might find you before you sailed.'

'Behold!' said Jon Wing, stretching his hand to those coming on behind. 'Today you see the making of a king!'

Murdo looked where the Norseman was pointing, and saw the first of the sailors as they came swaying up the plank carrying open baskets of gold and silver objects. In all, six baskets of plunder were carried aboard to be carefully stowed within the tent on the platform behind the mast. One of the sailors helping secure the treasure emerged from the tent, and called out, 'Jon, there are some dead people here! What should we do with them?'

'Leave them in peace,' replied Jon. Turning to Murdo he said, 'Ronan told me about your father, and I was sorry to hear it. I knew you would want him to accompany you to Orkneyjar. Do not worry. Unless he begins to stink, I will not put him off the ship.'

Murdo thanked the sea lord for his thoughtfulness, and asked, 'How did you come to get so much treasure?'

'Bohemond chased off the Turks who ambushed Godfrey's troops,' answered Jon Wing. 'We arrived with Magnus in time to aid in the rout of the Turks. The amir's treasure was taken for spoils.'

'They had the treasure with them,' put in Fionn, joining the group as the last of the baskets was brought aboard and placed in the tent. 'King Magnus' men helped liberate the treasure and were granted a sizeable portion.'

'Would that you had joined us just a few moments" ago.' Emlyn said, speaking up at last. 'You might have saved the Holy Lance as well.'

This occasioned a much-interrupted explanation of all that had happened to them since leaving Jerusalem-their narrow escape from the Seljuqs, the battle before the city walls, Murdo's recovery of the sacred lance, and his extraordinary bargain with King Magnus for the return of the relic. The others agreed with him that the bargain was extraordinary indeed.

'The king is known to be a fair and generous lord,' Jon Wing declared. 'I suppose he was at pains to prove it-with Bohemond and his noblemen looking on.' To Murdo he said, 'You had him in a very tight place, if only you knew it.'

'If not for Bohemond's intervention,' Murdo replied, 'I have no doubt it would have ended otherwise. Baldwin's men were for slitting my throat. I still do not know why the count acted as he did.'

'No doubt it was to do with the council.' He told Murdo how the emperor's envoy had appeared before the Latin lords and demanded the Holy Lance as a sign of the crusaders' recognition of Alexius' supremacy. 'When Bohemond learned that the lance had been sent from the city, he set off with a force of men to help protect it.'

'If you had but lingered half a day longer in Jerusalem,' added Jon Wing, 'you would have learned all this. What is more, you could have travelled to Jaffa with us.'

'Alas,' sighed Emlyn, 'it was this close.' He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. 'We had it in our grasp…' He glanced reproachfully at Murdo, and shook his head.

The three priests fell silent, reflecting on how near they had come to realizing their divinely-ordained vision. Murdo steeled himself against their benign disapproval, and held his tongue.

'Maybe it is not so bad,' said Jon, trying to console them. 'Such a secret is difficult to keep. It would have been nothing but trouble for you. It is better this way, I think.'

Jon Wing moved off, and the monks, disheartened, went to the stern to pray and seek the good Lord's direction following their failure to rescue the valuable relic. Murdo longed to go and comfort them, but held himself apart. In a little while, one of the king's house carles returned and summoned Jon. Murdo watched while the two spoke together, whereupon Jon called Gorm, and the two put their heads together in close consultation.

'The emperor's envoy is anxious to return to Constantinople,' Jon informed Murdo when he saw him standing alone at the rail. 'It seems our generous Count Bohemond has pledged the king's fleet to sail with him to help guard the treasured relic. Magnus has sent word that we are all to be ready to sail at first light.'

'And then what?' asked Murdo. 'What happens when we get to Constantinople?'

'I do not know what the others will do,' replied the sea lord, 'but as for me and my ship, we are going home.'

At these words, relief swept through Murdo with such a force that his knees buckled and his throat grew tight. He had intended finding a ship, but had not dared hope he might sail with his friends. This, together with the stringent demands of the last days, combined to make him light-headed; he swayed on his feet, and if Jon had not put out a hand to steady him, Murdo might have fallen over backwards.

'Here, Murdo,' said the great Norseman, patting him on the back, 'a drink will restore you. Gorm! Bring us a jar!' When the bowl arrived, Jon put it in Murdo's hands, saying, 'It is a shame we have no ol, but wine is not so bad.'

The wine did revive him, he drank deep and passed the bowl to Jon, who hailed his friend, saying, 'You are a good man, Murdo. You can sail with me any time.'

'When I get home, I will sail no more,' Murdo vowed, taking another good swig of wine, 'but if I did, I would not think to go to sea with anyone but you.'

'It is a long way to Orkneyjar,' Jon pointed out. 'You might change your mind.'

The rest of the day was spent readying the ships and amassing the necessary supplies and provisions for the journey. As the kegs, casks, and baskets came aboard, Murdo helped store everything and make sure it was tied down securely. Although Jon Wing bade him to rest and let the sailors do the chores, he declined; the work kept his mind off the long journey ahead. Still, every time he thought of it, his heart gave a leap inside his chest and he felt a quiver of excitement in his stomach.

As the sky sank by ever deeper degrees from flame red to the purples of night, Murdo found himself staring westward at the dying light, and imagining that it was the cold northern sea he was staring at, not the warm Mediterranean; and that it was the low Dark Isles lifting their sleek heads from the still waters, not clouds drifting on the far horizon. The yearning to be home grew in him like an ache and consumed him. 'Ragna…' He whispered her name to the sea and to the gentle twilight. 'Ragna, I am coming home.'

That night Murdo curled up in his customary place at the prow, and fell asleep with his beloved's name on his lips. Dawn found him awake and waiting for the call to shove away from the pier. The call finally came, and Murdo took up an oar and settled himself on the bench as the emperor's ship slid slowly out into the harbour, to be followed by the smaller, faster, Norse boats. One by one, they pushed away from the wharf and followed the envoy's vessel into open water. Once clear of the harbour, Jon Wing gave the call to up sails, and the return journey commenced.

The tawny sail rose and stretched-as if stirring itself from a long sleep. The heavy cloth flapped slowly and shook out its creases, then caught the wind, filled, billowed, and the ship began to glide away.

As Jaffa dwindled slowly behind them in a haze of gleaming, sun-bright white, Murdo lifted his eyes to the arid hills east of the city and looked his last on the Holy Land. He felt a fleeting pang of sadness for leaving his father and brothers behind. He breathed a silent farewell to them, and then turned his face once more to the west, and to the long voyage home.