'How can you tell?'

'A true Copt never dwells beyond sight of a church.' Extending his hand, he said, 'See?'

I looked where he was pointing and saw a small white building with a bell-shaped dome topped by a tiny crude iron cross; otherwise, the building was completely unremarkable in any way. 'We will soon have something to eat.'

We made our way to the little church where Wazim rapped on the door, which appeared to be little more than scrap wood and bits of planking rescued from the river. His summons was answered by an old man with a long white beard, and a black robe which covered him from the chin down. One eye was sunken, the socket hollow, and the other was watery and dim, but he greeted us with a toothless smile, pressing his hands together and bowing.

Wazim did likewise, and the two of them held a brief, but intense discussion filled with much gesturing and pointing. The old priest raised his head, brayed, and spat, and then, grasping me by the arm, he led us along the cramped beaten earth street to a tiny hovel of a house where he pounded on the door with the flat of his hand. A woman pulled back the door and peered out, just her nose and one eye showing. The priest spoke a few words to her, and she closed the door; it opened again a moment later, and a hand appeared holding two eggs.

The old Copt took the eggs, blessed the woman, and we continued on. This ritual was repeated at the next house, where we were given three round, floppy pieces of flat bread and two green onions. After three more houses we had amassed another egg and some salt, four dried figs, a slice of fresh melon, and a handful of honeyed dates -whereupon I called a halt to the foraging and told Wazim to thank the priest for helping us.

After exchanging a few words, Wazim reported, 'He will accept no thanks for allowing his people the blessing of giving succour to strangers in need. Today they have earned a great reward in Heaven.'

'Then offer them a blessing,' I replied. 'Tell him, gold and silver have I none, but what I possess I share freely: the blessing of the Three to be aiding you, abiding with you, and showering peace and plenty on you, and on your people, each day, all day, and forever.'

The old priest liked this blessing, and made Wazim repeat it twice so he would remember it. We took our leave and found a place on the high bank overlooking the river to eat our meal. I flattened some of the tall grass and made a place for the rood so that it would not rest on bare ground. Then I sat down beside it, tired to the bone, and began to eat.

The eggs had been boiled, so we peeled them and dipped them in the salt, likewise the green onions. After such a long fast, the plain and simple fare tasted better to me than a banquet. I sat, feeling the sun warm on my back as I gazed out across the river, and thought about the welcome I would soon receive, and beyond that, to the journey ahead. By this time tomorrow, I thought, we would be well on our way home.

After our meal, we moved on. As much as I would have liked to rest even a few moments longer, I was a thousand times more anxious to rejoin Padraig and the others. Brushing the crumbs from my lap, I rose reluctantly, adjusted my bundle of ruined parchments, shouldered the rood, and declared that if we were to reach the ship by midday, we would have to hurry.

We walked on a short distance and crested the bluff, coming in sight of the city walls once more; and just beyond the great sweeping bend in the river, I could see the wharf and the wide avenue leading to the city gates. Somewhere down there, amidst the dark clusters of ships and boats lining the busy quayside, Yordanus' ship Persephone was waiting to carry me out of Egypt.

Beyond the walls, smoke rose in twin columns from the centre of the city. 'That one,' Wazim told me, 'is the covered market.'

'And the other?' It seemed to arise from the base of a high stony bank which dominated the northern quarter.

'Ah, that is from the citadel.'

It could easily have been the palace that was set on fire instead. I realized the risk Wazim had taken in coming back for me. 'Thank you, Wazim Kadi,' I told him. 'It was a brave thing you did last night. I am forever in your debt.'

He made a little bow, saying, 'I did only what one Christian would do for another.'

'No,' I corrected, thinking of all the betrayal, deceit and disloyalty I had seen, 'you did far more than that, believe me. You risked your life for me, and I am grateful. I will not forget it.'

The cattle trails and pathways ran continuously along the Nile's lofty banks, linking one small riverside settlement to the next north and south, on both sides of the river, as far as the eye could see. We passed through the little holdings, and Wazim unfailingly greeted each and every person we met: an old woman bent double beneath a bundle of straw fully as big as herself; two naked boys carrying a string offish between them; a man carrying a jug of milk in one hand, leading a cow with the other, and bearing his young daughter on his back; women on their way to market carrying brown ducks bound with string. Wazim greeted them all, and I remembered just how much I had missed in my long captivity.

As midday approached, so did the quayside; the trails and pathways became roads and grew busier the nearer the city gates we came. I had been searching for Yordanus' ship since sighting the river harbour, and as we came onto the quay, I caught sight of the familiar red mast rising amidst the untidy forest of rigging at the far end of the wharf. My steps quickened as I pushed through the crush of people thronging the docks, dragging Wazim in my wake. I was almost running by the time I saw the bright green hull and yellow keel of the Persephone.

Panting and sweating, I paused to catch my breath before hailing those on board. 'Go on, Da'ounk,' urged Wazim excitedly, 'they are waiting for you.'

'It is a long time since I ran like this,' I said, lowering the rood gently to the wharf. 'Let me wipe the sweat from my brow at least.'

As I did so, I heard a familiar voice call out: 'Duncan!'

Glancing up, I saw Padraig standing at the rail. He waved to me, and then called to someone on the deck of the ship before starting over the rail. My heart leapt, and I started forwards to meet him on the wharf. And then another face appeared above the rail, and the sight halted me in midstep: Gislebert, the Templar sergeant.

At the same moment, I saw two more Templars standing on the wharf below the prow. Turning to Wazim, I said, 'Quick, Wazim, do exactly as I say. Take the rood. Stay here and guard it with your life. I will explain later. Whatever happens, do not give it to anyone, understand?'

'Perfectly, my friend.' Taking the rough length of timber from me, he planted himself on the wharf.

I turned, took a half-dozen steps and was caught up in Padraig's strong embrace. 'Hallelujah!' he cried, fastening his arms around me and lifting me off my feet. 'You are alive and well, Duncan. All praise to the Swift Sure Hand and his preserving power!'

My joy at seeing Padraig once again was sharply cramped by Gislebert's watchful presence. I turned to Padraig and, with true thanksgiving in my heart, started at once for the ship, leaving poor Wazim to look on with a profoundly bewildered expression. But there was nothing for it; as much as he deserved to be included in the celebrations, I could not imperil the precious relic by allowing the Templars so much as a glimpse of it-at least not until I saw how matters stood aboard ship.

'I knew you would come for me,' I told Padraig, squeezing out the words between his fierce hugs and bone-rattling slaps on the back. 'I never doubted.'

'Oh, Duncan, Duncan,' he said, grabbing my face in both his hands, 'look at you now. Earth and sky bear witness, it seems as if you had just walked down to the end of the quay and here you are back again, hale and hearty as ever. Are you well, brother?'