'Six,' countered Murdo confidently.

The Norseman hesitated, hefting the bag in his hand.

'The tide is running, and you are leaving,' Murdo pointed out. 'It is the last silver you will see until Jerusalem.'

'You are not so stupid, I think,' the Norseman allowed, extending his hand. 'Six marks it is.'

Murdo took the offered hand. 'Three marks now, and three when we reach Jerusalem.'

'Done!' said the Norseman. He counted out three marks and tossed the bag to Murdo.

'I must fetch my belongings,' Murdo said. Tucking the purse quickly out of sight, he started off along the bank.

'Here now!' The seaman called him back. 'If you are sailing on my ship, we can come to an understanding first.'

'Very well,' Murdo agreed.

'Hear me: I am King Magnus' man, and I am joining his fleet as soon as we quit this harbour. I will gladly cleave you crown to chin if you cause me trouble,' the seaman vowed, fondling the hilt of the very large knife in his belt. 'But just you stay out of trouble, and you will find me a most agreeable companion.' Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, 'This is my pledge to you. What is your pledge to me?'

'You will never have cause to raise your voice to me, much less your blade,' Murdo told him solemnly. 'I will cause you no trouble, and do as I am told. This I pledge you.'

'You'll do, boy!' The big man grinned suddenly, and Murdo saw that one of his lower front teeth was missing, and a fine, almost invisible scar creased his lip and chin, making his smile a wry, lop-sided, yet curiously compelling thing. Murdo smiled, too, in response, and felt his heart lift for the first time in many days.

'I am Jon Wing,' he said, clapping a huge hand to Murdo's back, 'and I mean to watch you like Odin's eagle.'

'Though you watch me night and day, you will find nothing you do not expect to see,' Murdo told him. 'I mean to make myself useful.'

'Be about it then,' Jon Wing said, and turned to the men on the bank and began calling commands. Turning back to Murdo he said, 'Well? Get on, boy! The tide is flowing, and we are away with it.'

Murdo raced along the top of the earthen bank to rejoin Peder, who was sitting on a stump, braiding the ends of a length of rope. He hailed the old seaman, and hastened to explain. 'The king has already sailed,' he said, 'but one of his men is still in harbour. The ship is called Skidbladnir, and the master has agreed to take me.'

Peder nodded. 'A good name for a ship. When do you sail?'

'On the tide,' Murdo answered.

'Then farewell it is,' Peder replied, rising from the stump. Descending the bank and climbing into the boat, he stooped and hefted up the bundle Murdo had left behind. 'Here now,' he said, passing the bundle to Murdo over the side. 'As the tide is running, I will be going myself. Give us a push, Master Murdo, and I am away.'

Murdo untied the rope from the stump, coiled it quickly, and tossed it into the boat. Then, he put his shoulder to the prow and shoved the boat away as Peder settled himself at the oars. Murdo called farewell, and watched the old seaman work the oars, turning the boat with deft, efficient strokes.

'Tell my mother the journey is well begun,' Murdo called. 'Take care of her, Peder. See she does not worry overmuch.'

'Oh, aye,' vowed the old helmsman. 'Never fear. Just you keep a sharp weather eye, lad.'

'That I will,' answered Murdo, not wanting to take his eyes off Peder or the boat until both were out of sight. A long, rising whistle from the direction of Jon Wing's ship called him away, however, and Murdo took up his bundle and ran to secure his place aboard the waiting ship. Four rowers, long oars in hand, pushed the craft away from the bank as Murdo clambered over the rail.

He found a place among the rowers, took up an oar from the holder, and settled himself on his bench. He fell into the easy rhythm of rowing and watched the settlement of Inbhir Ness slip slowly away as the ship moved out onto the estuary.

Murdo saw Peder again a little while later as the ship entered the wider water of the firth. Murdo called across the water and exchanged a last farewell with the old pilot as the larger ship overtook the smaller. A short while later, Skidbladnir turned, heading east along the coast, and the Orkney boat continued its northerly course. A small square of buff-coloured sail was the last Murdo saw of the boat and its lone occupant. He then turned his face to the dragonheaded prow and looked out on seas and lands unknown to him-merely the first of many he would gaze upon in the days to come.

Bohemond, astride his dun-coloured stallion, lifted a hand to the vast camp and the enormous walls towering over it. 'See here, Tancred! This is how I remember the city.' Rising beyond the walls, three of Constantinople's fabled seven hills could be seen, white palaces gleaming in the midday sun. 'It is just like the last time I saw it.'

Lord Tancred, reining in his favourite bay mare, gazed upon the jubilant rush of men towards the imposing walls of Constantinople. 'Your father's siege was not successful, I believe,' he replied dryly, lifting his voice above the shouts and cheers of the soldiers.

'Alas, no. He ran afoul of the infernal Venetians who believe they own the sea. He beat them back at the cost of half his fleet, and came on to Byzantium in the spring.' The prince paused, thinking back over the years.

'It was fever took him in the end, was it not?'

Bohemond nodded without taking his eyes from the glimmering hills. 'Fever broke out in the camp. I myself was taken ill and sent home to recover. In the end, the count was forced to abandon the siege. He died soon after.'

'A pity,' remarked Tancred. 'Especially as he had so much to gain.'

'Yes,' agreed Bohemond, 'and now I have returned to claim what he could not. Come, let us learn the measure of this Emperor Alexius.'

Godfrey and Baldwin rode out to greet the newcomers, and conducted them to their tents where a small feast had been prepared along with two or three tuns of wine to help the newly-arrived wash the dust of the arid Byzantine hills from their throats. The princes and lords, and their upper-ranking noblemen, ate and drank and regaled one another with tales of their travels. The two brother lords entertained their noble guests with the best of the limited hospitality at their command, falling over themselves to relate all they had seen of the city in the past two days.

'You have no idea of the wealth amassed in this place,' Baldwin assured them. 'It is far more than you can imagine.'

'Truly,' Godfrey added, 'and if Constantinople's riches stir you, just think what treasures await us in Jerusalem.'

'You have met this Alexius, I presume?' Bohemond inquired. Oh, yes, the brothers replied enthusiastically, they had met with the emperor: twice, once in his palace, and once in this very camp. They knew the emperor well, and held him in highest esteem. 'Tell me about him,' invited the Prince of Taranto.

'He is a shrewd and cunning dog,' Baldwin replied. 'His fortunes are beyond counting, yet he goes about a very beggar by comparison. He is a small, pig-eyed man with a skin like an Ethiope.'

'Be that as it may, he has nevertheless agreed to provision us,' Godfrey pointed out benevolently. 'And that-what with upwards of a hundred thousand men and forty thousand horses-is no small matter. He asks nothing in return, save that you sign an oath of loyalty recognizing him as emperor, and agreeing to return any conquered lands and such to the empire.'

'Sign an oath of loyalty!' hooted Bohemond. 'On my word, I will do no such thing.'

The duke shrugged. 'That is up to you, of course, Bohemond, dear friend. But the benefits of doing so are not inconsiderable.'