'The Mount of Olives is on the southern side of the city,' Ronan continued. 'We cannot see it from where we are standing.'

'I think we can see Golgotha from here,' Fionn suggested, looking up from the map. 'It might be that small hill there.' He squinted at one of the lumpy mounds in the distance. 'Or, maybe the one next to it.'

'The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is inside the walls,' Emlyn added helpfully. 'Many believe Our Lord was never buried there anyway, but was laid to rest in the Garden Tomb, which is outside the walls.' Pointing east along the valley, he said, 'Is that the Church of Saint Mary I see? If it is, the tomb must be -

'But you are mistaken, brother,' Fionn interrupted. 'That is certainly the Church of Saint Stephen which you see on the hillside. The Church of Saint Mary is on Mount Zion.' He pointed to the hump of rock rising to the south of the city.

'You are right, of course,' agreed Emlyn placidly. 'Yet, I believe the Chapel of the Garden Tomb lies between us and the church. This was the point I wished to make.'

'And I am grateful for it,' said King Magnus, speaking up quickly. 'But the day is speeding from us.' Turning to Ronan, he said, 'Unless you have anything else to tell us, we will join the battle.'

'I have told all I know,' Ronan said, nodding thoughtfully. 'Yes, I believe that is all.'

King Magnus thanked his wise counsellor, and declared he would make for the temple precinct. If any fighting continued, it would be there, he reckoned, where resistance was bound to be most fierce. The king turned, raised his sword, and cried, 'For Christ and Glory!' He then led his men into battle.

They descended the hill and quickly crossed the narrow valley. Upon reaching the gate, they did not hesitate, but rushed directly into the smoke-filled streets to join their fellow crusaders in sacking the city. Murdo and the monks followed close behind, until coming to the entrance. There, amidst the commotion of warriors hastening both into and out of the city, the monks halted. 'We will remain outside the walls until the city is delivered. We can be of more use caring for the wounded,' Ronan said. 'Stay with us, Murdo. It seems the fighting is nearly over. Lord Magnus will not require your spear today; I will tell him you remained behind to help us.'

'My father and brothers are here,' Murdo told him. 'I am going to find them.'

'Wait but a little,' Emlyn pleaded. 'We will help you find them when Jerusalem is won.'

'No,' Murdo turned away brusquely, 'I have waited long enough. I am going to find them now.'

The monks did not try to dissuade him further, but gave Murdo a blessing instead. Raising his hands, Ronan said, 'Great of Heaven, send an angel to go before our brother, an angel to go behind, an angel above, an angel below, and an angel on either side to guard and protect him through all things, and bring him safely to your peace.' Ronan made the sign of the cross over Murdo and said, 'Come to us when your search is completed. We will uphold you in our prayers until we see you again.'

Murdo nodded once in acknowledgement of the monk's request, then joined the soldiers thronging through the gate. More tunnel than doorway, the entrance was dark and full of smoke; Murdo took a deep breath and, clutching his spear tightly, entered the city. The last thing he heard was Emlyn's voice telling him to be careful.

He emerged beneath the gate tower. Bodies of both crusaders and infidel lay smashed on the stone pavement where they had fallen from the breastwork high above. The pooled blood of these unfortunates was now scattered in a hundred thousand dark footprints radiating into the Holy City by way of its tight, impossibly tangled pathways.

Distracted by the corpses heaped around the gate, Murdo started down the street before him… only to realize that he no longer recognized anyone around him. Turning around, he pushed back through the crowd, quickly retracing his steps; yet, by the time he reached the gate once more, the Norsemen were nowhere to be seen. Still, he heard the clatter of arms and the echo of voices down one of the streets to his left. Putting his head down, he ran as fast as he could, following the sound.

The street twisted and turned, crossing one path, and then another. Murdo thought he would see his comrades at any moment-he would round the next bend, and there they would be. But the further he ran, the fainter grew the sounds.

He paused to catch his breath and look around. The street was deserted. The houses were silent. He did not know whether to go back the way he had come, or to proceed.

As he was trying to make up his mind, there came a tremendous crash from further up the street. He made for the sound, thinking that if he did not find his lost companions, he might at least find someone who could tell him how to reach the Temple Mount.

The street turned, and turned again, and he entered a wider way, lined with trees and larger houses. Up ahead he saw a number of crusaders darting from house to house, or from one side street to another. He hastened to join them. Upon passing the first of the fine houses, he heard the crack of splintering wood overhead and glanced up just in time to avoid being struck by a wooden chest which was hurled from an upper window onto the street below.

The chest landed with a colossal thud at his feet It was swiftly followed by another, smaller box, which smashed on impact, spilling a horde of silver coins which bounced and rolled over the paving stones. 'You there!' cried a voice from the upper window. Murdo glanced up to see an angry face glaring down at him. The soldier shouted something, and when Murdo failed to respond, repeated in Latin: 'Get away! That's ours!'

Murdo was still staring up at the face when two crusaders ran out from the house and began scooping up the coins by the fistful. They were quickly joined by two more, who seized the larger chest, raised it over their heads and threw it down-once, twice, and again, before the chest split, scattering treasure into the street. Murdo caught a flash of silver and gold as cups and bowls, plates, bracelets and chains, rolled and spun in every direction. The crusaders shrieked at their good fortune, and dived to retrieve the plunder, snatching up the valuables and stuffing them into their siarcs.

When they had grabbed it all, one of the pilgrims peered around guiltily, saw Murdo watching, and turned on him. 'You!' he yelled. 'I told you to get away from here!' The man made a clumsy lurch towards him, but Murdo was already running away.

He knew the Norsemen were making for the temple precinct, and decided that was where he would find them-and even if not, he stood a good chance of finding his father and brothers-so he hurried on, following the street where it led, hoping to reach a place where he could get a glimpse of the Temple Mount to know which direction he must go.

From the side streets he glimpsed grim evidence of the conquest: to the right, four crusaders standing to their knees in white-robed bodies were stabbing into the pile with their spears; to the left, two warriors holding an old man between them while a third executed him-the man was shouting in Latin as the spear sank into his stomach. Murdo averted his eyes quickly, and from then on looked only at the street ahead. The pathway turned and turned again, and grew narrower until it ended in an enclosed courtyard. There, Murdo halted.

Fresh corpses covered the entire surface of the square three and four deep, rising to two separate mounds stacked ten or fifteen high. Murdo stared at the bizarre welter of bodies-many of them battered and mutilated beyond recognition-unable to comprehend how such slaughter could have been accomplished. He decided that either they had taken refuge in the courtyard, or had been driven there by the crusaders who then blocked the narrow entrance and began butchering them. In their terror, the victims must have climbed the ever-increasing heaps, standing on the corpses of their kinsmen in a futile effort to escape, while the crusaders struck them down, killing and killing as the mound grew ever higher.