bed. 'We must change the bandage,' she said as, with Alethea's ready help, she knelt down beside Cait.
'In a moment,' said the archbishop. To Cait he said, 'Annora has been telling me that you have been chosen to become the next Guardian of the Sacred Chalice.'
'So it would seem,' Cait answered.
'Show him,' whispered Alethea.
Cait stretched out her hands, palms up, and drew back the sleeves of her robe so that the churchman could see the marks of the stigmata on her wrists.
Archbishop Bertrano placed a finger lightly on the livid mark. 'The foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men. It is a heavy charge that is laid upon you, daughter. Still, your only freedom lies there-if you will accept it. That I do believe.'
'So do I,' replied Cait, realizing as she spoke the affirmation that she had decided to answer the call.
'Good.' He smiled, and a spasm of pain passed over his face. He closed his eyes and held his breath. When it was over, he opened his eyes again; they were a little duller this time, his gaze slightly less intense.
'Perhaps you should rest now,' suggested Thea.
'Soon I shall have all the rest I need,' Archbishop Bertrano replied.
'Let us change your bandage now,' said Annora. 'You will feel better.'
'A moment longer, and then you can have me,' he replied. 'I told Caitriona that the Blessed Cup will not be safe here any longer. Because of my infernal meddling, too many people know about it now. If it remains here, it will only bring trouble to the village; they would never know a moment's peace again.' He reached out and took Cait's hand. 'But it has pleased God to choose you. Therefore, I bid you take it. Take it far from here, and hide it well. One day the time will come when it can be revealed once more. Keep it safe until then.'
Cait lifted his hand and brought it to her lips. 'By the strength and wisdom of God, I will, my lord archbishop.'
'There now. That is settled.' Bertrano smiled again. 'Now, if I might make one last request of you, dear abbess.'
'Certainly,' Annora replied. 'Anything.'
'I should like to receive the Holy Sacrament of the Cup once before I die.'
'Of course, archbishop.'
'Could we do it now, do you think? I do not wish to keep the ferryman waiting.'
'At once, my lord.' The abbess retrieved the Holy Chalice from its place on the altar, and Cait and Alethea watched as she proceeded to administer the holy rite to the dying man. Kneeling at his bedside, she spoke so softly to him that none in the room heard what passed between them, but in the end, when Bertrano drank from the cup, a smile of such serenity and pleasure lit his features that each one present felt as if they had seen a little of Heaven's bright glory reflected on his face.
When the sacrament was finished, the abbess returned the cup to the altar. Cait and Alethea drew near the bed once more and bade the dying cleric farewell. Bertrano blessed them and then lay back; he allowed the nuns to care for his wound then, and while the abbess and Sister Besa changed his bandage Cait and Alethea crept away quietly together. They paused briefly at the side of the church to view de Bracineaux's blood-stained corpse.
The Templar commander seemed smaller now and older: death had diminished him. He gazed with unseeing eyes to the boundless heavens, the scar puckering his brow in a doleful expression. Cait looked at him and felt neither hate nor exultation at his defeat -only sorrow at the lives his reckless pursuit had wasted.
After a moment, they turned without a word, and proceeded to Dominico's house where the meal Elantra had been preparing was now being served. The Norsemen were there, too-all eating hungrily, their bowls to their mouths, sopping gravy with chunks of bread. Brother Timotheus called for Cait and Alethea to join him at table with the others; Cait sent Alethea ahead saying, 'Tell him I will join them in a moment. I would speak to my knights first.'
With that, Cait walked to where Yngvar was sitting; the Norseman stopped eating and raised his face to her as, without a word, she bent and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She then did the same with Svein, Dag, and Rodrigo in turn.
'Your courage is matched only by your loyalty and skill,' she told them. The knights looked with pleasure at their lady. 'You have my admiration and my gratitude. And,' she added, 'as soon as we return home, you shall have your reward.'
'My lady,' said Yngvar, glancing at Svein and Dag beside him, 'it would be no small reward to be allowed to continue in your service.'
'We have been talking,' said Dag. 'And you will be needing good men-at-arms when you return home. This is what we think.'
'And what does Lord Rognvald think?'
'He has given us leave to follow our own minds in this matter,' answered Svein, adding, 'He is making plans of his own, I think.'
'I see.' Cait nodded. 'Very well. Then hear me, all of you. I will not say you no, but neither will I agree just yet. It is a long way to Caithness, and much can happen before we arrive; you may change your minds. If you do, you will not be bound.'
'That is fair,' Svein agreed for all of them, 'and we will abide. Only, tell us if you view our offer in a kindly light.'
'Dear Svein, and all of you,' Cait said, 'I look upon your offer with nothing but the highest esteem. I will never forget what you have done for me and Alethea.'
Svein reached out, took her hand, and pressed it to his lips. 'Your servant, my lady.'
She turned to the Spanish knight who sat looking on. 'And you, Rodrigo? Have you decided also?'
'My lady, nothing would give me more pleasure than to remain in your service. These men have become my friends, and I would not hesitate to cast my lot with them. But I promised Paulo I would wait for him. He is improving, but is still too weak to ride. With your permission, my lady, I will wait as I have promised.'
'As to that,' said Yngvar, 'the prince has said we can winter with him at the palace.'
'He has sworn on the beard of the prophet that he will not break faith with us again,' added Svein. 'And after what I have seen today, I believe him.'
'It is a generous offer,' allowed Cait. 'We shall see.'
She left them to their meal, and joined the others at table; she tried to eat a little, but it hurt her throat to swallow, so she gave up and just sat listening to their talk. The day faded and as twilight stole into the valley, deepening the shadows and turning the sky to inky violet, one of Prince Hasan's men came to the house to say that the funeral pyre was ready. They went out to the lakeside where a great tower of timber had been erected. The Moorish troops had formed a wide circle around the pyre, and the villagers and some of the nuns had assembled on the slope of the shore to watch.
At the prince's command, Halhuli stepped forward and, taking up the torch, raised it three times, calling out in Arabic each time. He then passed the fire-brand to the warrior next to him; the man did likewise, raising it to the chanted exhortation and then passing it on to the next in line, and so on until all the surviving warriors had performed the rite.
At last, the torch came to the prince; he received it, stepped forward, and upon completing the third exhortation, lowered the torch and touched it to the tinder which had been prepared. Flames licked out and up, bright yellow in the blue dusk.
He moved to the next side of the four-sided pyre and lit the tinder there, too, then proceeded to the remaining sides, lighting each in turn. When he had completed the circuit, the flames were rising through the latticework of the pyre, skipping from branch to branch, leaping higher and higher into the darkening sky. The shadows of the watchers flickered and danced in the orange glare of the fire on the snow. Inside the tower-like structure, the corpses had been neatly wrapped in their cloaks and stacked on a stout platform, and this caught fire, giving off a silvery smoke as the bodies began to smoulder.
When the flames had caught hold and begun their work in earnest, Brother Timotheus moved out from the circle and approached the burning tower. Raising his hands, he called out in a loud voice to be heard above the crack and roar of the inferno. He said:
'Thou goest home in this night in the depth of winter;
