He regarded me for a time, and then said, 'You have been sent to me by the Khalifa of Baghdad.'

'That is true, my lord. No doubt he imagined I would be a useful addition to your illustrious court.'

Al-Hafiz grunted at my small attempt at humour. 'What is your name?'

'I am Lord Duncan of Caithness in Scotland. I am on pilgrimage, my lord, and was sojourning in Anazarbus when it was attacked by Amir Ghazi. I was captured and taken prisoner by the Seljuqs.'

'Khalifa al-Mutarshid says that you are a spy and a traitor to Islam. He has condemned you to death.' Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he added, 'I see no reason to alter his judgement.' Addressing the guards, he said, 'This one is to be executed at once. Take him away.'

As the guards stepped forwards and grasped me by the arms, al-Hafiz demanded, 'Have you nothing to say?'

Placing myself firmly in the palm of the Swift Sure Hand, I replied, 'No, my lord. All is as the Great King decrees.'

The guards seized me, turned me around, and led me from the hall. Wazim, padding along behind, distraught, muttered platitudes of comfort under his breath. I paid him no heed, for I was gathering my courage to face the headsman's axe.

We reached the great ebony doors and halted while they were opened by two blue-robed porters. From the throne behind us the caliph called, 'Infidel, who did you mean?'

The guards halted, and I was hauled around to face the caliph. 'My lord?'

Lifting his hand from his lap, he motioned the guards to bring me before him once more. 'You spoke of the great king just now. Who did you mean?'

'I meant the Lord God, Ruler of Heaven and Earth, Shaper of Destiny, Architect of the Ages, and Champion of the Faithful.' These last were titles the Muhammedans used for the Almighty, and which any Christian could also espouse in all good faith.

The caliph's dark eyes grew narrow-whether with anger or distrust, I could not tell. 'There is but one God,' he declared, thrusting a long finger into the air above his head. 'Allah is One.'

'That is so, my lord,' I said, bowing my head in reverence. 'There is no god but God Alone.'

The frown reappeared upon his dark, wrinkled face. 'What do you know of such things?'

'Very little, my lord. I am but a simple pilgrim -'

'So you have said,' he snapped. 'But not so simple as you make out, I think.' Frowning furiously, he leaned forward, chin in hand, and glared as if trying to decide what to do with me. Finally, he said, 'Do you deny you are a Christian?'

'No, lord,' I answered. 'I am a Christian. With your permission, I would merely point out that I have nothing to do with either Rome or Byzantium. Neither pope nor emperor hold authority over me.'

This surprised him. And, strangely, his surprise gratified him. It was as if he had suspected something curious about me, and now his suspicion was rewarded. The frown vanished instantly, and he regarded me with an expression of wary interest. 'So! You, too, are an Armenian. We know of these Christians.'

'I beg your pardon, Most Excellent Khalifa,' I replied, 'but neither am I an Armenian.'

'Not an Armenian?' he said. 'What are you then, Christian? Tell me quickly.'

'My lord Khalifa, I am of the Cele De,' I replied. 'We are an obscure sect-once plentiful, but now vastly diminished in numbers. Where once we ruled the whole of Britain, we are now confined to a small realm in the far north.'

For some reason, this appeared to please him immensely. 'I have heard of this Pritania,' he replied. 'It is very far away from Rome and Byzantium, you say?'

'Yes, my lord. As far as east from west with three seas between.'

The caliph squirmed on his cushion impatiently. 'Since you are a Christian of particular devotion,' he said, 'I will grant you a day to make peace with your God before I send you to meet him in judgement.'

'I thank you, my lord,' I replied, bowing in acknowledgement of his generosity.

He gestured to the guards once more, and I was taken from the hall and returned to my rooms, where I now sit and write in contemplation of what has happened. Although I am grateful for even this small reprieve, I cannot think what it might betoken. Still, I have this day. Dare I hope for more?

I pray the hand of the executioner may spare me yet a little longer for your sake, Cait. While I wait, I can think of nothing better than to proceed with my tale. This I will do even now.

Marseilles is a rowdy river town, heaving with rough industry. There are no fewer than five ship yards-all of them clattering to wake the dead from the crack of dawn to after sunset. Half the town and countryside is kept busy serving the shipbuilders, and the other half earns its crust supplying the wharf and harbour with goods and commodities of one kind or another. The harbour is well-protected, wide, and deep; and there we found the last of the Templar ships making ready to set sail.

The larger part of the fleet had already departed – there were forty-two ships in all-but eighteen remained in port, taking on supplies which had not been ready in time. I instructed Sarn to put in close to the Templar ships, and then Padraig and I hurried to find the soldier we had spoken to in Rouen.

'Pax vobiscum,' I said, approaching the first warrior monk we saw. 'God be good to you, my friend. We are looking for one of your brothers.' I explained that we had been instructed to meet a member of his order in this very place. He asked who we were looking for, and I told him.

'It was de Bracineaux?' the man asked, looking us up and down. 'Renaud de Bracineaux, are you certain? If it was Renaud, then you are fortunate indeed. He was to have departed with the first ships, but has been detained. He is still here.'

He told us that Renaud was a commander of the order, and that all the commanders were holding council with the Grand Master over concerns which had arisen while sojourning in the country. 'His return is expected as soon as the council is finished – tomorrow perhaps, or the next day. And then we will sail for Outremer.'

I thanked the brother for his help, and we made our way back to the boat to wait. Roupen had determined to see if he could beg passage from any ship sailing east. Now that he was destitute, he could not afford to pay his way as he had originally planned, and the thought of humbling himself that way cast him into a sour and miserable mood-nor was that all. Although he said nothing against them, anyone could easily discern that he held no fondness for the Templars. I mentioned it to Padraig, who had also noticed how the young lord either grimaced or fidgeted every time the warrior monks were mentioned.

Sarn, too, was unhappy; now that we had reached our destination, he knew he would be sent home and he wanted to continue with us to Jerusalem. This I could not allow. Nor, considering the rigours of the journey, could I in good conscience send him home by himself.

The solution to this quandary remained beyond our grasp the rest of the day-although not for lack of discussion. Sarn could not understand why, having come this far, he should not be permitted to continue the rest of the way. 'You will need strong servants in the Holy Land,' he kept saying.

To which I would reply, 'My father needs strong servants back in Scotland. What is more, he needs his boat.'

'You would send me back alone?' he countered with sullen reproach.

'Believe me, I wish I had a better choice, but it cannot be helped. You must go home as we agreed.'

Next morning, a young Templar came to our mooring and informed us that Renaud de Bracineaux had been apprised of our request and was waiting to see us. Taking up the box containing Bezu's knives, Padraig and I followed the youth to the long double rank of Templar vessels, where we were conducted up the boarding plank and onto the deck of the largest ship I had ever set foot upon in all my life. Renaud was standing by the mast, directing the loading of supplies which were heaped in a small mountain upon the thick deck of the sturdy vessel.