I had confided to the commander my decision to bring a petition before the young prince at the soonest opportunity, and he assented-although he stopped short of assuring me of his complete agreement to the plan. When the Templar commander turned from the prince's messenger, he said, 'You are in luck, my friend. Bohemond deigns to receive me. I will take you and the priest along and we will have this out at once.'

'Now?' I said. 'And with the dust of the road clinging to us?' To avoid the sticky, all-embracing heat of the day we had risen just after midnight and crossed the rough hills before sunrise. The dry days of summer had come, when the sun's rays strike the earth like the blast of an oven, and the slightest footfall on the well-used roads raises a very pall of dust and clouds of biting flies. The further inland we travelled, the hotter and dustier it became. With two hundred mounted Templars, the resulting clouds of grey grit made us appear as if We had spent days at the millstone grinding dry clods into powder.

'The prince arrived in the city four days ago, and is eager to begin planning his campaign,' the commander replied. 'If we hope to dissuade him, this will be our best chance.' He summoned his sergeant. 'Go now, take a moment to wash and refresh yourselves,' he said. 'Gislebert will bring you to the palace when you are ready. I will await you there.'

The sergeant led us through a low door and out into a small courtyard surrounded by long ranks of old Roman-style barracks which were the Templars' quarters. The yard was filled with soldiers welcoming their comrades and seeing them settled in their new surroundings. Gislebert brought us to a fresh-running fountain in the centre of the yard. Roupen, grim and uneasy, stood stiff-legged, glumly watching Padraig and me as we splashed water on our faces from the stone basin.

'I will go with you,' he said.

'No,' I said, 'that would not be prudent.'

'I cannot wait here alone. What if someone tells Bohemond I am here?'

'Commander Renaud has given his word,' I replied patiently. 'You are safe in Antioch so long as you remain in the garrison. But you dare not show your face in the palace.'

'I am not afraid,' he announced carelessly. 'I will go and speak to Bohemond myself.'

'You may have opportunity to speak to the prince,' I told him. 'But before we abandon our plan, let us at least determine what manner of man this Prince Bohemond might be.'

'What am I to do while you are away?' he said unhappily, kicking at the base of the fountain.

'Wait patiently,' Padraig said, 'and pray our appeal meets with sincere contrition and repentance.'

'And if it does not?' he snapped angrily. He could not help himself, nor could I blame him. Had I been in his place, I would have behaved in much the same way.

'We can cross but one bridge at a time,' I replied.

'Have faith,' Padraig offered gently. 'Bind courage to your heart, and seek the Good Lord's guiding hand. Trust him, and he will meet you in your need.'

Roupen accepted this with gloomy forbearance and said no more. When we had finished washing and made ourselves as presentable as possible, I turned to the young lord. 'Remain calm, and do not stir from this place. We will return as soon as possible,' I promised, placing my hand on his shoulder. 'God willing, we shall bring you a good report.'

With that, we were led from the courtyard and, following Gislebert, conducted along a dizzying array of narrow streets and stairways up into the heart of the old city to the high citadel and the palace where the Count of Antioch held court.

Bohemond's palace put me in mind of a noble lady fallen into beggary. Undoubtedly, the royal residence had once been a very treasure, but years of indifference and neglect had marred its best features. Costly wooden panels were gouged and scratched; expensive silk rugs were worn threadbare, their fine colours faded and dulled by dirt and indifferent use; once-dazzling painted walls were dingy with the grime of smoke and oily food; polished floors were rutted and dull from too many rough feet, and too few washings. Several of the outer corridors contained filth from discarded slops and excrement which raised a nasty stink in the nose.

In all, the place breathed an atmosphere of forlorn decline and dilapidation. It made me sorry to see it sliding into decay, and I felt myself resenting the thoughtless lord who could allow this to happen. There are far worse things in this world, as well I know, but I glimpsed in the shabby surroundings a malignant disregard which I could not abide. How much of this rot should be laid at the feet of the current inhabitant, I could not tell. But that the prince inhabited these once-splendid halls and did nothing to relieve the distress so evident around him told me something of the man.

His appearance, however, all but dispelled the regrettable impression created by his surroundings. For Prince Bohemond II was a full-blooded, handsome man: broad-shouldered, long-limbed and tall, with a firm jaw and open, pleasant features. His hair was long and fair, and his beard short, cut into the distinctive forked shape favoured by certain Prankish noblemen; his hands were big and strong, and always moving-as if restless when they did not clutch a sword.

Together with Commander Renaud, Padraig and I were conducted into the prince's private chamber by one of his advisors, an old retainer from Antioch who regarded us with the world-weary air of one who has seen too much. The prince was standing over a long table on which a meal of roast fowl and plums had been spread. He had a knife in one hand, poised to strike, and a gold cup in the other.

Glancing up as the door opened to admit us, he exclaimed, 'De Bracineaux! You are here! God be praised, man, it is good to see you. They told me you had arrived, and I could not believe my good fortune. I did not expect you for another week.'

Forgetting his rank and place, he leapt forwards to meet us, stepping around the table in quick bounds. He seized the Templar by the arms, and embraced him like a brother. Then, seeing two strangers idling in Renaud's wake, he cried, 'And who is this with you? Come in, sirs! I give you good greeting. Join me, all of you. Food has been prepared, and I was just about to eat.'

'We would be delighted,' replied the Templar. Turning to us, he said, 'May I present: Lord Duncan of Caithness, and Padraig, his chaplain.'

'I am pleased to meet you, gentlemen,' said the prince, inclining his head nicely. He smiled, and despite myself I felt compelled to like him. 'You cannot have been in the city long.'

'We have only just arrived,' I answered.

'Good voyage?'

'Very good indeed, my lord,' I said. 'The Mediterranean is smooth as a highway compared to the rough northern seas around Scotland.'

'I have heard of this Scotland, you know,' Prince Bohemond said. He turned away, indicating that we should follow him to the table. 'They say the men and women there are painted blue.' Smiling, he glanced at Padraig and then at me. 'But you are not painted blue, are you?'

'No, lord, although the Picti are known to daub themselves with woad when they do battle. It is an old custom, but still occasionally to be seen.'

He smiled again, showing neat white teeth. 'I should like to see that.' He speared a roast fowl with his knife. 'Come, my friends, eat!' To his manservant, he said, 'Hemar! Pour some wine for these thirsty fellows. They have come all the way from Scotland.'

Following the prince's invitation, we helped ourselves to the meat and fruit before us. Bohemond and Renaud fell to talking about the voyage and the settling of the troops, and I was glad to have the chance to observe the prince for a while. He was, I decided, somewhat younger than he first appeared. Although his bearing and speech were that of an older, more confident man, I believe he adopted this manner to disguise the fact of his green immaturity. He was little more than a child playing at a game for men, and I felt strangely sorry for him.