once. He gazed at the coin and marvelled at the Bishop's generosity.
'The pilgrim's coin,' Gundrun told him. 'It is to pay the gattage.'
'The what?'
'The tax which the gatemen of Jerusalem demand of all pilgrims who enter the Holy City.'
'To carry it with you means that you will live to see the city of the Blessed Saviour.'
Dufnas grunted at this, and pressed his coin into Murdo's hand. 'There,' he said, 'now you can pay my tax, too, when you get there.'
Murdo thought to remind the disagreeable merchant that, in fact, he was not going to Jerusalem at all, but Dufnas was already draining his second beaker of wine and Murdo thought it best not to disturb him with such trifling matters. He tucked the coins into his belt, and turned his attention to the Saint John's bread and wine.
The wine, sweetened with honey and lightly spiced, quickly disappeared-most of it down Dufnas' gullet, it had to be said-so Murdo sipped his cautiously, fearing he would get no more. Yet, no sooner had the empty pitcher touched the board than it was refilled from one of the two tuns of wine the bishop had established at either end of the green. One glance at the broad oak vats supported on their iron stanchions, and Murdo drained his beaker and then thrust it out for Gundrun to refill.
'Thirsty, boy, eh?' he laughed. 'Well done!'
Dufnas nudged him with an elbow and nodded his grudging approval. 'We shall make a trencherman of you yet,' he declared.
There followed more barley cakes and spiced wine, and some time later a dish made from ground almonds, honey, eggs and milk all boiled together to produce a thick sweet confection which was eaten from bowls with spoons as if it were soup. Murdo had never tasted anything so sweet, and did not think he could finish his, until, following Dumas' example, he alternated each spoonful with a healthy swig of wine, and found the combination produced a delectable flavour.
When Murdo at last looked up from his third bowlful, he was astonished to find that the day was fading; shadows were stealing across the green. Many of the celebrants had left the board-some to stroll arm in arm around the cloisters, others to be received by the bishop before making their way home. He looked for Ragna and her family, but could not see them anywhere.
He was still searching when he heard someone call his name; he turned and saw Skuli motioning to him to come, and then saw his father and mother among those awaiting a word with Bishop Adalbert. Murdo reluctantly rose to join them.
'Leaving us so soon?' inquired Gundrun, placing his hand affectionately on Murdo's shoulder.
'Alas,' replied Murdo, 'I must go, or get left behind.' He bade his dining companions farewell and thanked them for telling him about the Holy Land. Upon receiving their compliments, he turned and walked, on slightly wobbly legs, to where his father was just then stepping before the bishop.
Murdo arrived in time to hear the cleric say, '- so I have been informed. However, I had hoped, Lord Ranulf, that you might be persuaded to see the matter in a different light. It is a long journey and far from safe at the best of times. I am certain you would travel in better peace were your lands and possessions secure in our care.'
Ranulf smiled with genuine warmth. 'Your concern shows much to your favour, bishop. Yet, the matter is settled. My lady wife is well able to look after the ordering of the farm. Indeed, she has been so accustomed these last twenty years.'
'Even the most accomplished overseers require help,' the bishop pointed out, nodding slightly towards the lady in question. Niamh smiled, but Murdo recognized the cat-like smile as that which usually preceded a stinging reply.
Before she drew breath, Lord Ranulf interposed swiftly, saying, 'Of course, bishop, that is why my son Murdo is staying behind. He is a steady young man, and knows his work. Also, our tenants will continue to provide their share of labour.' The lord glanced approvingly at his lady. 'I have given the matter a great deal of thought, as you can see,' he concluded. 'And, I am certain you will agree that since Jarl Erlend is to remain in Orkneyjar, my short absence will occasion but little remark. Also, I would not like to cause anyone the slightest hardship. I know you will have care enough to look after all the lands which will be delivered to your keeping. I could not rest easy in the thought that my affairs had become a burden on anyone.'
So saying, the lord bade the bishop good day; Lady Niamh added her farewell and thanks for a magnificent feast worthy of the namesake saint. Bishop Adalbert delivered a benediction of parting, and, even as they turned to leave, added that should anything occur to change his mind, the lord would find him ready and willing to shoulder the responsibility of looking after his lands.
Torf and Skuli made their farewells, Murdo muttered his regards, and then they were escorted once more through the cathedral and outside the church wall. They made their way to the bay below the low church hill and boarded the boat for the homeward voyage. The wind was light, but steady out of the northeast and the seas calm; the sailing would be pleasant, and they would be home in no time at all.
Ranulf woke Peder, his boatman, who was asleep on the tiller bench, and ordered Torf and Skuli to ready the sail, while he and Murdo untied the boat and, taking up two long oars, pushed away from the quay. Then all four men rowed until, once clear of the other boats, they could turn around, whereupon Ranulf gave the command to raise the sail. The heavy fabric shook itself and puffed out nicely, and the small ship glided from the wide, shallow bay and proceeded on an easterly course to clear the headland, before turning south and coasting home.
Once past the headland, there was nothing for Murdo to do, so he propped himself up on the rail and watched the low hills and cliffs, the dark rocks glowing red and purple in the westering sun. Murdo settled to bask in the warm, long-lingering sunset. Perched on the rail, he could not help thinking that, all in all, it was a splendid end to a fine day.
He looked at his father, who had taken the tiller from Peder, and watched as Ranulf expertly guided the boat, eyes scanning the familiar coastal waters, his face ruddy in the red-gold light, his fine blue cloak slung back over his shoulders so that his strong arms might move more freely.
At that moment, it occurred to Murdo that he wanted nothing else in all the world but to be that very man, to one day assume the lordship of Dyrness and the protection of his family's lands. He looked across at his mother, serene and beautiful as she sat on her cushioned bench beside the tiller. One day, thought Murdo, he would also have a beautiful wife. He savoured the word inwardly-
He held her image in his mind and watched the pale silver crescent of the moon rising, as if out of the very sea, to begin its silent journey towards morning. The sky was filled with stars by the time they reached Hrafnbu Bay, and Murdo was asleep in the bottom of the boat. He woke when the hull ran aground on the pebbled shore of their gja, the ravine-like bay carved deep into the high rock cliffs upon which their farmland lay. He roused himself, slipped over the side, and helped Peder and his brothers make the boat secure.
They then waded to shore, where they were met by Jotun and Balder. The two wolfhounds bounded along the strand, barking eagerly and splashing everyone. Ranulf greeted them, cuffed them both affectionately around the ears, and sent them racing back towards the house to announce their master's return.
The very next day, the manor began preparations for the pilgrims' departure. As the days went by, Murdo watched with increasing jealousy as his brothers and cousin assumed the manner of worldly-wise men who could not be bothered with the commonplace chores of the farm. They ordered the servingmen like they were kings delivering edicts of life-or-death import to uncomprehending slaves; they swaggered about like battlechiefs of vast renown, and remained aloof from all former labours. It was as if the impending pilgrimage had absolved them not only of sin, but of work, duty, and common decency, too. Murdo ground his teeth until his jaws ached, but kept his resentment to himself.
Then, before the next full moon shone over Orkney's smooth hills, the pilgrims were gone.
SIX
'Basileus Alexius wishes me to express his gratitude for your efforts on behalf of the empire,' Dalassenus said, placing the gift chalice on the table beside the throne. 'He sends me with this letter'-withdrawing the parchment square from the leather pouch at his belt, the young commander offered it to the cleric-'along with his regrets that
