'No,' growled the man. He called something to one of the men standing nearest the camel. The fellow answered, glancing suspiciously at Murdo. He stepped to the side of the animal and began prodding the bundles with the butt of his spear. It was all Murdo could do to keep from snatching up the sword and swinging at the man.

'Why slink around by night if you have nothing to hide?' the foremost soldier asked.

'The sun is hot and causes a corpse to stink prodigiously,' the elder priest explained. 'We hoped to spare our brother this last indignity.' Stretching out his hand in a gesture of friendship, he added, 'We would do no less for you, my friend-or any of your men.'

'Do we look dead to you, priest?' scoffed the soldier.

'May God be praised for his enduring mercy,' said Ronan. 'I pray you will live to see your homes once more.'

Emlyn spoke up then, saying, 'Perhaps you would care to accompany us to the church. We could hear your confessions, and offer prayers for your safety.'

'Forgive me, brother,' interrupted Fionn, 'I would but hasten to remind you that the pope has given full absolution for all sins committed while on crusade. These men are obviously pilgrims like the rest of us; therefore, they need no absolution. Hence, no confessions are required.'

'There may be something in what you say,' conceded Emlyn graciously. 'However, I think you are forgetting that the pope's decree of absolution was to remain in force only for the duration of the crusade. Since the pilgrimage is now completed, I believe the decree has expired.'

The soldiers, uncertain what to make of this discussion, shifted uneasily. Murdo could not believe they would choose this moment to pursue a theological discussion.

'Brothers,' said Ronan, adopting the manner of a master curbing the enthusiasm of his wayward pupils, 'this is not the time or place for such debate. These soldiers must be about their affairs.'

'Of course,' agreed Fionn placidly, 'let them go about their business, I say. There is no need to detain them further.'

'Am I to believe what I am hearing?' complained Emlyn. He thrust an accusing finger into the face of the nearest soldier. 'For all we know, their souls may be in danger of hell this very night. Why indulge such a needless risk? Let them be shriven, I say!'

At this the crusaders moved back a pace, suddenly anxious to leave.

'We do not have time for that now,' the soldier grumbled. 'We are on our way to our camp in the valley. Our lord is waiting for us.'

'The church is not far,' offered Ronan helpfully. 'The service would not take long, and you would soon be on your way.'

The soldiers moved back another pace, eager to be gone from these meddling priests; two or three of them began edging away.

'I told you we have more important affairs to attend to,' the warrior muttered.

'What affairs can be more important than the affairs of a man's soul?' demanded Emlyn.

'Our souls are no concern of yours, priest,' the crusader growled. 'Go your way.'

Ronan acquiesced gracefully. 'Come, brothers, we are not needed here.' He tugged on the camel's rope and the beast lumbered forward, almost throwing Murdo off his perch.

The soldiers stood aside, watching the priests and their camel depart. Emlyn turned aside to offer one last homily. 'Remember, my friends, there is no sin too great for God's forgiveness. Our Heavenly Father stands ready to welcome all who truly repent.'

'Move on, move on!' snapped the soldier irritably. He motioned his companions away, adding, 'A bane on all priests!' under his breath.

The monks began chanting their prayer again and continued on their way. They had gone only a few paces when Murdo, unable to help himself, risked a backward glance and saw that the soldiers were hurrying away down the road. 'They are going away,' said Murdo, and realized he had been holding his breath.

'Of course,' replied Ronan. 'Such sheep are seldom eager for their shearing.'

They reached the Church of Saint Mary to find the church precinct paved with bodies. All around the church, covering the slopes from the foot of the hill to the walls of the monastery, people lay upon the ground in knots and clusters; a few were wrapped in cloaks, but most simply sprawled on the bare earth where they had dropped. At first sight, Murdo thought the slaughter must have continued outside the walls of the city, but these were somewhat more fortunate than their countrymen: they were not dead, merely sleeping.

Murdo looked upon the silent multitude and saw among the clustered throngs Jews and Christians and Muhammedans-all massed together, each against the other, having sought refuge from the storm of death in what must have seemed to them the one safe place in the world on that hateful day.

Here and there, he spied a family group, surrounded by a few pitiful belongings snatched from the destruction of their lives. He felt the emptiness of their loss, and understood how very little separated him from them. All men are fleeing destruction, he thought dismally; some make good their escape for a time, many do not. Still, it catches everyone in the end.

A narrow pathway wound through the mass of bodies to the monastery gate. Leading the camel carefully along the path, the monks picked their way among the sleeping bodies, and arrived at last at the monastery entrance directly behind the huge domed church. The timber doors were shut and barred, but a bell hung from the gatepost, and Emlyn gave the cord a single sharp pull. The sound wakened a few of the sleepers, who grumbled at the disturbance. The door gave forth a creak, and a small door in the larger gate opened. A round, dark face appeared in the gap. 'Who disturbs the peace of this place?'

'Forgive us, brother,' said Ronan. 'We would not trouble you if need were not hard upon us. As you can see, we are priests, too, and we are about a matter of urgency and beg admittance. We desire to speak to your abbot at once.'

The monk regarded them speculatively for a moment, and then said, 'I am sorry, the abbot is holding vigil, and I will not disturb his prayers. You must wait until after terce when the abbot receives his guests-even then, I cannot promise he will see you.' The porter paused, and added, 'These last days have been very difficult for us all.'

'I understand,' replied Ronan equably. 'If that is the best we can hope for, we will abide. But perhaps we might be allowed to wait inside?'

'Again, I must disappoint you,' the monk replied. 'Owing to the sudden arrival of the emperor's emissary, the guest lodge is full to overflowing. Even the yard is full. As you can see, there is room neither inside, nor out.'

'We would not disturb the serenity of this place in any way,' Ronan assured him. 'We require only a place to sit quietly while we wait. You need provide nothing more.'

'Very well,' relented the monk, 'I will let you in.'

'Thank you, brother. May God bless you.'

The little door closed, and they waited. Murdo had begun to think the monk had changed his mind, when he heard a scraping noise coming from the other side of the gate, and a moment later, the door swung open to admit them. They led the camel into the yard, and the gate was closed once more.

The inner yard was a square of hard-packed earth, swept clean, and bounded on three sides by various buildings, and on the fourth by a long wing of cells. Candlelight glowed from the window and doorway of several cells, and from the tiny chapel. There were people sleeping in the yard, hundreds of them, but here the monks had imposed an order on the chaos by arranging everyone in circumspect rows-four ranks on either side of a central pathway.

'I will show you to the stables. You may find a place there to sit while you wait. This way, please.'

They passed along the rows of bodies, and came to a low-roofed open building lined with stalls. There were horses in all the stalls, and picketed outside as well. 'See,' said the porter, 'even the stables are overcrowded. But you may wait here.'