'The shaykh of this place will know men I can trust,' Sadiq said.
'Lord Amir,' I said, 'if I may be so bold as to suggest-' I hesitated.
'Yes?' demanded the amir in a distracted way, his eyes searching the marketplace. 'What? What? Speak.'
'— to suggest that Kazimain should be allowed to continue the journey with us.'
Amir Sadiq's eyes shifted to me; his mouth twitched into an instant frown. 'Continue with us,' he said, his voice leaden, 'to Byzantium?'
'Yes,' I replied, and could feel the resistance rise up within him.
But before he could draw breath to refuse me, Faysal spoke up, 'Lord, if you please, this is the very thing I have been thinking.'
Sadiq's baleful eyes swung from me to Faysal. 'You are both mad.' He turned abruptly. 'It cannot be allowed.'
'I believe she could be of great use to us,' I persisted. 'It may be that-'
'No,' the amir said, moving away, 'I have spoken and the matter is concluded.'
'Lord,' implored Faysal, 'please reconsider. Kazimain is shrewd and resourceful, as we know. We know not what manner of reception we will face in Byzantium, and-'
'Precisely!' said the amir, rounding on us. 'The very reason I cannot allow her to remain even a moment longer than necessary.' Sadiq stopped abruptly. He pressed a hand to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying very hard to think of something he had forgotten.
A strange apprehension came over Faysal's features as he stood looking on. 'Amir?' he said softly.
'It is nothing-the sun,' Sadiq muttered; his face had lost some of its colour and his voice its strength. 'Let us finish and return to camp.'
Thus was Lord Sadiq determined and there was no changing his mind. One of the merchants in the market pointed out the shaykh, and Sadiq sought his counsel in hiring trustworthy men to escort Kazimain. The two conferred, money changed hands, and that was the end of it.
Along with dry provisions of various kinds, the amir also bought a herd of sheep and some goats, three camels, and a wagon. That evening, as the supplies which had been delivered were being packed away in the wagon, I overheard Faysal and Kazimain talking in hushed, urgent voices.
I joined them and heard Faysal saying, '…they are to come for you in the morning. The shaykh has pledged the life of his son for your protection, and-' He broke off at my approach.
'I am sorry, Kazimain,' I said. 'The amir would not be persuaded. Still, perhaps it is for the best. I would feel better if I knew you were safe.'
'For the best!' she snapped. The fire in her dark eyes died as quickly as it flared. 'You will remember that it is not for your sake that I sought to continue this journey, but for the amir's alone. He is not well.'
Her concern mystified me. Though I did not doubt its sincerity, I could not credit its cause. 'So you have said,' I granted. 'But I see no evidence of any illness. He seems to me as much himself as ever.' I shrugged, and looked to Faysal for confirmation. 'Is this not so?'
'No, it is not so,' she replied in a tone that indicated this should have been self-evident. Helpless against such overwhelming ignorance, Kazimain also appealed to Faysal. 'Tell him!'
'Kazimain believes the amir was injured,' Faysal explained, 'at the mine-when his horse fell and rolled on him.' With a light lift of his shoulders, he said, 'Lord Sadiq denies anything is wrong.'
There was no persuading Kazimain, and she would not be consoled. The unintentional dispute left a sour taste in my mouth, so I walked around the camp for a while to think what I might do, eventually settling with the Britons as Dugal and Brynach prepared a meal. Sadiq had determined that each of the separate parties of our company would fare better if they did their own cooking, thus relieving the Arabs of the duty. Brynach raised his eyes from the pot as I settled myself against a rock. 'No doubt I have seen a more woeful countenance,' he remarked, returning to his stirring, 'but I do not remember when.'
Ddewi, squatting nearby and tracing lines in the dust with his finger, lifted his head and laughed at Bryn's small jest. Noticing my surprise, Brynach said, 'He seems to be getting better.' Raising his voice, he called, 'Aye, Ddewi? I say you are feeling a little better now.' Ddewi had returned to his reverie and made no sign that he had heard or understood. 'But you, Brother Aidan,' the Briton continued, 'seem a little worse. What is wrong?'
I made to dismiss his question with a shrug and a smile. 'I saw a man today who was not there. A curious thing, nothing more.'
'Indeed?' Brynach's eyebrows arched with interest, but he kept on stirring. 'Have you ever seen him before?'
'Aidan is always seeing things,' proclaimed Dugal, arriving with an armful of brushy twigs for the fire. 'He has dreams and visions, and such.'
I made to protest. 'Dugal, no I-'
'He does!' Dugal insisted.
'The man I saw was no vision,' I declared. 'He was a man I met in Trebizond. I thought I saw him today in the marketplace-he called out to me. But it was crowded, and by the time I reached him, he had gone. Perhaps I did not see him at all.'
Brynach frowned in disapproval of my explanation, but said no more and returned to his cooking. Dugal, breaking the twigs into smaller pieces, said, 'What was it like, this Trebizond?'
At his mention of the word, something Brynach had said before squirmed uneasily in my head. Rather than answer Dugal's question, I asked one of my own. 'You told me you were going to see the governor, why?'
'Cadoc desired his aid,' Brynach answered.
'But not on behalf of the cumtach,' I suggested. 'You could have had a new cover made in Constantinople.'
'That is true.'
'Then why? What aid could Governor Honorius provide?'
Brynach stopped stirring. He looked from Dugal to me, and then down into the pot, as if trying to read a purpose in the bubbling liquid. 'I suppose,' he said, 'it makes no difference now.'
He gestured to Dugal to take his place at the fire, then came and settled himself on the ground facing me. 'Cadoc is dead.' The sadness in his voice went deeper, I thought, than grief for the beloved bishop. 'He would have told you himself.'
I remained silent, tingling with anticipation. Even so, his first words surprised me. 'Governor Honorius was to be our advocate against Rome.'
'Rome!' I wondered in amazement. 'What has Rome to do with this? Why did-'
Brynach raised a hand to fend off any more questions. 'It was, you might say, the true purpose for the pilgrimage.' As he spoke, an image formed in my mind: men at a board-monks breaking bread and talking in quiet fellowship with one another. The image changed and I saw myself sitting with Brynach, and him beckoning me closer. 'Those I choose to be my friends call me Bryn,' he was saying. 'May I tell you something?'
The memory struck me with the force of a blow. Gazing at him now, I cast my mind back to that night. 'That is what you were going to tell me,' I said. Brynach returned my gaze with a blank expression. 'The night of our first meeting-you were going to tell me, but one of the monks intruded.'
He nodded slightly. 'Yes, I suppose I meant to…'
'We should have been told,' I said, my tone growing harsh. 'If there was a hidden purpose to our journey-'
Dugal, silent as a stone, stared at us, trying to take in the revelation he was hearing.
'Not a hidden purpose-' protested Brynach quickly. 'Never that.'
'We should have been told,' I insisted. 'Tell me now.'
Brynach shook his head slowly; the sadness in his eyes was raw and deep. 'Do you also remember,' he said softly, 'that we were to go first to Ty Gwyn?'
Again, I was assailed by a sudden recollection. 'Ty Gwyn,' I murmured. 'The storm prevented us from putting to shore.'
'You do remember,' Brynach confirmed.
'I also remember we were never told why we were to go there,' I remarked tartly.
'For years, I had been travelling from abbey to abbey, hearing the complaints of abbots and bishops, detailing
