'Like this,' she said, raising the slender rod and resting it lightly on her shoulder. Her face, neck, and shoulders were now cast into the shadow of the disc-shaped shade. 'See?'

'Clever,' I allowed. 'Why not just wear a hat?'

Since coming to Outremer, I had seen many wide-brimmed hats made of stripped reed or woven straw. They seemed more than able to provide the service of a sunshade. 'Peasants wear hats,' Sydoni replied. 'Here, try it,' she said, handing the thing to me.

I did as I had seen her do. The sight of a foreign man using a sunshade proved too much for our young escort, who was promptly seized by a fit of giggles and laughed all the way to the boat. I returned the object to Sydoni, who walked merrily beside me, spinning the circle of cloth and humming lightly. For the second time in as many days, I luxuriated in the unexpected intimacy of her cheerful companionship.

Upon arriving at the boat, Sydoni informed her father that she had purchased a mantle to be made by one of the women in the village and instructed him to pay the girl, who would take the money back to her mother. Yordanus counted a few silver coins into the girl's hand. 'And for the sunshade, too,' she said, and he tossed in a few more.

Then, under the watchful eyes of the people of Marionis, we climbed into the boats and began the slow, easy voyage up river to Mamistra. Padraig and I shared the rowing chores with the two men from the village, relieving them when they began to tire. In this way, we worked our way along the winding river course. We spent the first night on a gravel shingle in the middle of the river with nothing overhead but the star-laden sky.

The second night we camped in a grove of fig trees planted beside the river and, as the sun went down on the third day we arrived at Mamistra. Leaving Padraig and Roupen to help the boatmen unload the boats, Yordanus and I went into the town early the next morning to search out his horse-trading acquaintance.

Along the way, we stopped a farmer with a piglet under his arm and asked him if he knew of anyone thereabouts who raised or traded in horses. The farmer squinted his eyes, scratched a bristly jaw, shifted the piglet from one arm to the other, and at last said he might have heard of such a man. When Yordanus presented him with a silver denarius for his trouble, the farmer broke into a wide toothless grin and said, that, yes, he remembered now, the man he was thinking of was called Nurmal.

'Yes! The very fellow I was hoping to find. Where does he live?'

'I cannot say,' answered the farmer. 'If I ever heard where he lived, I do not remember now.'

Yordanus plucked out two more denarii and placed them in the farmer's rough palm. 'Does this help your memory?'

'No, my lord,' replied the farmer, eyeing the silver sadly. 'I still do not know where he lives, but I know where you can find him.'

'Tell me,' said Yordanus, 'and you can keep the silver.'

'There is a mill over there -' the farmer pointed beyond the town to a knoll surmounted by a windmill. 'He buys grain and fodder there on market days.' Hefting his pig, he said, 'Today is the market.'

We thanked the toothless fellow and sent him on his way rejoicing in his unexpected wealth. The mill was further than it first appeared, and it took us some time to walk up the long, rocky slope. Only when we got to the top did we see that there was a road leading up from the other side. Nevertheless, we found a goat track and followed it, arriving at the mill from behind. The miller was a gruff man of few words, but more of Yordanus' silver loosened his tongue and we learned that Nurmal had not been there yet, but was expected some time during the day.

'I will wait here for Nurmal,' Yordanus suggested. 'You go back and tell the others we have found our man. Nurmal and I will join you at the river.'

I did not like leaving him, but as I was walking from the yard, the miller's wife brought him out a bowl of milk to drink. I left him sitting in the shade of the house, sipping cool milk and looking like a man for whom the world held no worries.

Padraig and the boatmen had unloaded the provisions under a tree; the boats were gone now, however, and Padraig was preparing food on a small fire at the river's edge. Sydoni was asleep in the shade of the tree, and Roupen sat on a rock nearby, knees drawn up under his chin, and gazing forlornly into the swirling brown water.

'All is well,' I said, settling on the rock beside him. 'We are making fair speed. We will reach Anazarbus before Bohemond and his army, you shall see.'

'It makes no difference,' he muttered without looking up. 'There are not enough soldiers in all of Armenia to repel the crusaders. They will slaughter us like dogs.'

'Roupen,' I said after a moment, 'we will do what we can, and trust God for the rest.' I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him. 'Hope and pray.'

'You hope,' he snarled, shoving my hand away. 'You pray.'

I left him to his despair, and went to help Padraig cook the meal. We ate and dozed afterward, and the day grew hot. The sun soared through a sky bleached white with heat haze, and then began its long descent behind the dusty, sage-covered hills beyond Mamistra.

Padraig and I were just discussing whether we should go back to the mill and look for Yordanus when we heard a horse whinny and there, coming down along the track leading into the town, was the old trader himself on a milk white stallion, riding beside another man on a black. Behind them rode two more men leading two horses each.

They reined up at the water's edge and while the two men watered the horses, Yordanus presented Nurmal, a smiling, graceful white-haired elder with a skin so brown it looked like polished leather. He wore the silken robes of an Arab potentate, and when he spoke, his long white moustache quivered with excitement.

'What do you think of my horses?' asked Nurmal when everyone had been properly introduced.

'They are wonderful,' I remarked. 'In Scotland, not even kings own such fine horses.'

'I am not surprised. Although they are perhaps more plentiful here,' allowed Nurmal modestly. 'The Arabs place a high value on their animals, and breed the best in the world. Yordanus and I have concluded our bargain. AD that remains is for you to choose.' He gestured towards the horses, inviting our inspection.

'I will be more than happy with any of them, I am sure,' I replied casually.

'You are too easily pleased,' he said. 'But that will not do. Any man who must trust life and limb to his mount would be well advised to take a moment's sober reflection over the choice.'

So, I stepped closer and subjected the animals to a more thorough inspection. They stood on long, slender legs, their handsome heads high; their manes and tails were full and long, their necks finely curved and powerful. I ran my hands over their glossy coats, and I could almost feel the surge of those solid shoulders and the earth speeding effortlessly beneath me.

In all, they were magnificent creatures, clearly beyond my own small capacity to judge; aside from the colour of their lustrous coats, there was not a whisker's difference between them that I could see. So, I chose a grey with a speckled rump because it made me think of the mist rising over the moors back home.

The others chose their mounts whereupon Nurmal announced, 'Now then, my friends, we are to ride to my home where you will stay tonight. You will dine with me and tomorrow we will set off for Anazarbus.'

'You mean to go with us?' asked Roupen. I could tell he thought ill of the idea.

'Indeed, yes, my lord. You need a guide and I must look after my horses, no?' Nurmal's smile was broad and handsome.

'Trust this man as you would trust me,' Yordanus said. 'I have already told him of your need for haste and secrecy.'