Walter’s voice rose to a screech. ‘You fool. If I die, the secret of the gospel dies with me.’
Wayland stared in incomprehension. ‘What secret? What gospel?’
‘The Gospel of Thomas and a letter from Prester John. Treasures beyond price. Why do you think Vallon risked his life to save me? Why do you think Cosmas negotiated my ransom?’
‘Where are they?’
‘Where no one can find them but me. Now pull me out of this foul mire.’
Walter had sunk to his chest. Cries floated down the wind. A smear of flame appeared through the reeds.
‘Help!’ Walter shouted. ‘Help!’
The cries came closer. Torches flickered.
‘Oh thank God,’ Walter gasped. He stopped struggling. ‘Now you’ll pay for your treachery. What I did to your family is nothing compared to the punishment I’ll deal out to you.’
Four figures shoved out of the reeds.
‘Wayland?’ Vallon called.
‘He led me into the bog,’ Walter cried. ‘He tried to murder me. For the love of God, help me!’
Vallon edged towards Wayland, Hero following. The other two men were Seljuks, carrying poles and rope. They took in the situation and unlooped the rope.
‘Don’t struggle,’ Vallon told Walter. ‘We’ll pull you out.’
‘Oh, thank God!’
Hero pushed forward. ‘Where’s the gospel?’
Vallon slapped him. ‘The man’s in peril of death.’
‘He won’t tell us otherwise. Once he’s safe, he’ll turn against us. Walter, tell us where you’ve hidden the documents.’
‘You swear to save me?’
‘You’re wasting precious time,’ said Vallon. ‘Of course we’ll save you.’
‘They’re in a Roman bastillion on the eastern shore of Salt Lake. Hurry!’
‘We camped near the fort. Where will we find the gospel?’
‘The top of the staircase. Behind a stone carved with a lion. Hurry before it’s too late.’
Vallon ordered the Seljuk to throw the rope. ‘Reach for it carefully. Don’t move more than you have to.’
Walter clung to it. Vallon and Hero and the two Seljuks heaved. Vallon turned to Wayland. ‘Help us.’
They strained and grunted until sweat broke on their brows. Each heave raised Walter half a foot, but all their efforts couldn’t break the bog’s grip.
‘Take your hauberk off,’ Vallon called. ‘You won’t sink if you rid yourself of your armour.’
Walter clawed at the slippery mail with icy, mud-coated hands. ‘I can’t. Every movement pulls me deeper.’
‘Send one of the Seljuks for more men,’ Hero said.
Vallon wiped his forehead. ‘It’s no use. It would take a team of horses to drag him loose, and the strain would tear him in two.’ He raised his head. ‘Walter, you have to break the suction. Paddle with your legs.’
Walter had sunk to his shoulders. ‘I can’t feel them,’ he whimpered.
Vallon seized the rope again. ‘Another effort.’
They hauled first in one direction, then another. Something popped and the rope sprang loose, sending them tumbling backwards.
‘My shoulder!’ Walter screamed.
Vallon picked himself up. He cast the rope towards Walter. ‘Take hold of it. At least we can keep you from going under.’ He turned to Hero. ‘Send one of the Seljuks to fetch a team carrying ladders.’
‘He’ll freeze to death before they get here.’
Walter’s left hand groped for the rope. His fingers closed on it. When Vallon drew it taut, it pulled straight out.
‘I can’t hold it. All feeling has gone.’
The bog was above his shoulders. Vallon doubled over, hands on knees. ‘Walter, there’s nothing more we can do. Make peace with your maker.’
The surface was up to Walter’s chin. ‘Oh mother of God, save me in my hour of need. Oh merciful mother of God … ’ He broke off with a sob.
They watched in horror as Walter sank deeper.
‘What a terrible way to die,’ he said, his tone remote. He called out in Turkic to the Seljuks. ‘I’ve told them what happened here. The Emir will make you pay for your crimes.’ His voice rose to a shriek. ‘I curse Wayland! And I curse you for bringing him here and I curse Drogo! I’ll be waiting for you in hell!’
Water closed over his mouth and he delivered his final curse as a gargling scream. Wayland’s flesh crept, but he remembered his family massacred in their home and didn’t regret his crime. Bubbles erupted from Walter’s mouth. He heaved up as the water rose above his nose. He sank again and more bubbles burst. His eyes still showed, rolling with terror, and then they went still and glazed over. They sank from sight. Slowly his head disappeared. The surface quaked one last time and went still.
Vallon was down on one knee. He turned his head. ‘Is it true? Did you lead him to his death?’
‘He slaughtered my family. Father, mother, brother and sister, grandfather … He raped the women and cut their throats.’
Vallon looked at him for a long time. ‘That’s why you joined us. I set out to rescue Walter, and you were planning to kill him.’
‘Only at first. Once I met Syth, once I saw how gallantly you led us, I swore to bury my hatred. I haven’t even told Syth what Walter did. But then he threatened to kill me. He gloated about it. I know the Emir will probably execute me for disobeying his orders. I know I won’t see the child Syth’s carrying. Walter followed me into the marsh and revenge was all I had left. Even then I gave him a chance. I would have tried to save him if only he’d confessed his crimes and repented.’
Vallon heaved an exhausted sigh and stood. ‘The Seljuks don’t know what happened. We’ll tell the Emir it was an accident. At least you recovered the falcon. That might go some way to assuaging his wrath.’
Wayland broke down. It wasn’t fear of Suleyman’s punishment that overwhelmed him. It was the stress that had built up in him from the moment chance presented him with the opportunity to kill Walter. It was despair at the thought of what would happen to Syth.
Hero put his arm around him. ‘Come on. Let’s leave this awful place.’
They picked their way out of the marsh. About twenty men remained with the Emir, rags of flame whisking from their torches. Suleyman rode forward, hunched and malevolent. Vallon and Hero stepped in front of Wayland and pleaded for mercy. Half a dozen Seljuks dragged them out of the way at swordpoint. The Emir stopped in front of Wayland and gave an order. Ibrahim approached. From the pitiful expression on his face, Wayland knew that the Emir wouldn’t show mercy. Ibrahim took the falcon. He held up a hand, showing Suleyman the pigeon. The Emir dashed it to the ground.
Wayland raised his eyes. ‘Let me see Syth one last time.’
Drogo spoke out of the dark. ‘They took her back to the camp.’
‘I’ll take care of her,’ Vallon said. ‘I promise she won’t come to harm.’
The Emir raised his mace. Wayland stared at the twin peaks. The torches guttered.
One of the underfalconers threw himself down and scooped up the pigeon. He thrust his hand up. The Emir’s stallion flared its nostrils and side-stepped.
Ibrahim grabbed the pigeon and called for light. Two torchbearers ran up to him. He held the pigeon towards the flames and Wayland glimpsed something gleaming on its leg. Suleyman looked down at it and waved his hand. Faruq dismounted and hurried up. Ibrahim cut the object off the pigeon’s leg and handed it to him. He held it between thumb and forefinger.
A tiny cylinder. Wayland had no idea what it meant.
‘A messenger pigeon,’ he heard Hero say.
‘I know,’ said Vallon. ‘The Moors used them in Spain. Wayland, stay where you are and don’t say a word.’
