They settled themselves beneath the branches. Emlyn rested his bulk against the trunk, and Torf reclined on the patch of dry grass around the gnarled and twisting roots; Murdo sat crosslegged opposite his brother, suddenly silent. All the things he had to say bubbled in a strong ferment inside him-but where to begin? What to tell first? There was so much, he could not think what to say, so merely stared at his brother, willing Torf to understand the need that had driven him over oceans to search them out, to lay his plea before them.

'How do you like Jerusalem?' asked Torf after a time. 'They say the fighting was good. Were you here when the city fell?'

'We were here,' answered Murdo. Not caring to refresh the memory of that day, he asked instead, 'Is it far to Edessa?'

'Aye, far enough,' replied Torf-Einar. 'It took us ten days to get here. If they had prolonged the siege, we might have joined the battle. We got word four days ago that the city was taken.'

'There is a lot of plunder, they say,' remarked Skuli as he rejoined them. He filled the cup with wine and passed it to the priest.

'Slainte!' said Emlyn, raising the cup. He drank deeply and passed the cup to Murdo, who took a mouthful and passed it on to Torf; he drained it and gave it back to Skuli for refilling.

'Murdo,' said Skuli, shaking his head in disbelief. 'You are the last person I ever thought to see here. But how is our lady mother to do with the farm? Is she to take care of it all herself now?'

Murdo, loath to darken the mood with bad tidings, nevertheless decided it could not be put off any longer. 'That is why I have come,' he said. 'Hrafnbu is lost.'

'Lost?' wondered Skuli over the rim of his cup. 'Hrafnbu gone? Murdo, how could you let-'

Torf held up his hand for silence.

'That is not the half of it,' Murdo continued. 'Father is dead -two days ago. I was with him when he died.'

This last was received in stunned silence, which Murdo allowed to endure. After a long moment, Torf said, 'Tell us what happened.'

'He was wounded. Emlyn here, and the other monks-they found him in one of the tents,' Murdo said, and went on to explain how they had found Lord Ranulf, his death, and burial in the valley outside the walls of the Holy City. Torf and Skuli listened quietly, alternately frowning and shaking their heads. Murdo then told them how he had come to Jerusalem so that their father might return to Orkney and set about reclaiming their estate.

'You are Lord of Hrafnbu now,' Murdo concluded with a nod to Torf-Einar. 'It is for you to come back to Orkneyjar and settle our affairs once and for all.'

Torf stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'I am sorry to hear of your bad luck,' he said at last. 'But I am not going back.'

'We can get a boat at Jaffa,' Murdo said, 'I know many of the nobles are going home now, and we can get passage with one of them. We can leave at once, and -'

'Murdo!' Torf said, raising his voice. 'I said I am not going back to Orkney. Skuli and I have sworn fealty to Count Baldwin. We are staying here to fight for him.'

'But the crusade is finished,' said Murdo, struggling to understand. 'We can go home now.'

'The count has taken Edessa,' Torf told him. 'He has made it the first city of a great kingdom, and he has promised that any who stay to help him will be rewarded with gold and lands of their own. There is much wealth here, and we mean to get our share.'

'It is true, Murdo. We will soon have enough plunder to become counts, too,' Skuli added. 'We will have a realm of our own, with palaces and horses and treasure beyond counting. Baldwin has done it-and Bohemond-and we will do it, too.'

'We have lands in Orkney,' Murdo protested weakly. 'There is wealth enough there once we reclaim it. I know who it is that holds the land-he is one of Magnus' men and he is in Jerusalem. We could -'

'What we had in Orkney is nothing,' Torf said bluntly. 'Compared to the wealth of the East, we were beggars. Hrafnbu is gone maybe, but it is not worth fighting over. And it is never worth travelling all the way back to Orkneyjar just to take it away from some fool of a Norseman who wants it. Let him have it, I say. There is more here. And it is ours for the taking.'

'You should stay with us, Murdo,' suggested Skuli. 'We will all be kings together.'

Murdo stared at the men before him. Were these really his brothers? How could they talk so? The death of their father had not even raised a sigh of regret, and the loss of their lands produced nothing but scorn.

'Kings!' Murdo mocked. 'No king would refuse to fight for his lands and people. You want treasure? I have treasure, and wealth enough for all of us. Lord Ranulf saved all his share of the plunder won from the enemy, and I have it. We can go home and use it to win back our lands.'

'You do that, Murdo,' Torf said. 'You take whatever Ranulf saved, and go back home.'

'We know about our father's treasure,' Skuli said. 'A few bits of gold and silver-we've seen it. I tell you the truth, Murdo, there are men here-not lords, but soldiers like us-who have amassed more treasure in a single battle than any jarl of Orkney ever saw. We have gold and silver, too, and we mean to get more.'

'Take Hrafnbu if that is what you want,' Torf told him. 'While you are scratching a living on your rock of an island, I will be Count of Tyre and Sidon. Think about that when you are wading in pig shit on your grand bu!'

Murdo shook his head in dismay. He had travelled from one end of the Earth to the other for the sake of his home and family-only to be told he was a fool for caring.

Anger, frustration, and humiliation warred within him. Anger won the fight, and he rose slowly to his feet, fists balled, arms trembling to contain his rage. 'I have heard enough,' he said through teeth clenched so hard his jaws hurt.

He glared at his brothers-Skuli sitting smug-faced and superior, Torf sneering with derision-the moonlight making their features pale, like the corpses he had seen in the streets of Jerusalem. It came to him that he was looking at dead men, and that this was the last time he would see them.

'I have done what was required of me,' Murdo said. 'I am going home, and I am taking the treasure with me.'

'Take it,' Torf said hotly. 'Take the lordship, too. Lord of Hrafnbu-I give it to you, and it's not worth a fart. Hear me: we have offered you a chance to make something of yourself. If you cannot see that, then you deserve whatever you get.'

'Stay with us, Murdo,' offered Skuli. 'Baldwin will give you a place in his war host. We will soon be getting lands of our own, and we will make you a duke.'

'I want nothing from you,' Murdo answered, his voice thick with disappointment and regret. 'Fare well…" he hesitated over the word, then said, 'Brothers… we will not see one another again.' Turning to Emlyn, he said, 'We have done what we came here to do, let us be on our way.'

He turned his back and started down the hill.

'Murdo,' pleaded Skuli behind him, 'stay the night at least. We will talk, and you will see the thing differently in the morning.'

When Murdo made no answer, Skuli rose and started after him. 'Wait! Listen to me! Murdo, wait!'

'Let him go, Skuli,' said Torf. 'He always was a sneaking little coward.' To Murdo he shouted, 'Go on, coward! Run away home like you always do.'

The words were hateful; once they would have stung, but he felt nothing from them now. Murdo held nothing but pity for the man who had spoken them.

Emlyn fell into step beside him, but said nothing. They walked for a long time, descending to the valley where they found the road once more. The walls of Jerusalem loomed over them, black and imposing, and though the moon was fading as it drifted lower towards the hills, the sky was still bright with stars. 'That did not go well,' the monk observed after they had resumed their march along the southern wall.