The iron lance

ships away, only to return them at hire? I cannot think you did it to save the cost of transport.'

'That?' wondered Alexius with mild surprise. 'I merely wished to teach them something about power, and their dependence on the empire. Whether they like it or not, they need us if they are to successfully achieve their conquest of Jerusalem.'

'I see,' answered the commander. 'I was thinking you had a different reason: that the gold was better given to you now, than plundered by the Seljuq later.'

'You hold their chances as poor as that, do you?'

'I am being optimistic, Basileus,' the commander assured him. 'How they have made it this far is a mystery to me. But, from what I have seen of the Seljuqs, I know these pilgrims will never set foot in Jerusalem. As you have said, if courage alone had sufficed, we would have conquered them long ago.'

Alexius, brooding now, folded his hands beneath his chin and stared before him, as if into a dark and frightening future.

'These men – these commanders know nothing of what awaits them. They do not know the land; they have no idea of distances or terrain. They lack all understanding of the Arab-none of them have even seen a Seljuq, let alone fought an amir's army. To say that they will never see Jerusalem is, I think, no more than a realistic assessment. Taking all they lack in knowledge and provision, I believe most will never even see Antioch.'

'Yes,' agreed Alexius gloomily, 'and that is a very great shame. I greatly pity the soldiers of the line. As always, they will pay for the ignorance and folly of their leaders, and the cost will be fearfully great indeed.' He paused for a moment, as if trying to imagine the enormity of the sacrifice. 'And yet,' he said, after a moment. He lifted his head and looked at Dalassenus, 'and yet, despite all they lack, they possess one incalculable benefit.'

'What is that, Basileus?'

'Belief,' answered the emperor. 'They believe they have been chosen by God to recover the Holy Land and regain Jerusalem.'

'A belief inspired by ignorance,' the drungarius remarked. 'Such beliefs are nothing more than foolishness.'

'You are forgetting, Dalassenus,' the emperor chided, 'God ever confounds the wisdom of men. And these ignorant, arrogant men are filled with the belief that they can achieve what they have set out to do. I ask you, cousin, what wisdom can stand against such exalted foolishness?'

Dalassenus nodded, accepting the emperor's observation. 'Unfortunately,' he added, 'it is neither wisdom nor folly they must meet on the field of battle-it is the might of Sultan Qilij Arslan, and that of the Seljuq amirs. God help them, I say.'

'Amen,' agreed Alexius. 'He is the only one who can.'

TWENTY-ONE

Jon Wing remarked often on the weather. Every two or three weeks, he proclaimed it a wonder. It was, he maintained, the best sailing he had seen in seven years-twice seven years, even. The days were bright and long, and the winds fair. 'This is a lucky omen,' he insisted. 'We will certainly make our fortune in Jerusalem.'

The vast treasure awaiting them in the Holy Land was something else Jon often remarked upon. At first, Murdo took this as a sign that they must be nearing their destination. Each day he waited for one of the crewmen to sing out with the news that Jerusalem was in sight; each day ended with Murdo closing his eyes on yet another strange and nameless lump of foreign coastline. Yet, despite the continual frustration of his expectation, Murdo awoke the next day all the more certain that this would be the day the Holy Land came into view. After all, how much further could it be?

But, as the days ran to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, and still Jerusalem failed to appear on the horizon, Murdo at last began to take seriously the suggestion that the voyage might indeed take longer than he expected. In the meantime, they continually scanned the wide and empty sea for any sign of King Magnus' fleet.

The king's ships proved as elusive as the Holy City, however; although they sometimes saw a strange sail or two there was never so much as a glimpse of King Magnus' fleet. 'It is fifteen ships,' Jon declared. 'Fifteen cannot sail as swiftly as one! We will find them yet.'

All the while, the seasons, and the seas, grew slowly warmer. The grey-green waters of the north gave way to the green-blue waters of the south, and spring gave way to summer, and then autumn, as Skidbladnir slipped down and down along the coast. They passed Normandy and Frankland, and then places Murdo had never heard of: Navarre, Leon and Castile, Portugal, and still on and on, south and ever south.

As the journey wore on, the daily routine became established habit and small diversions loomed large with the longship's crew and passengers. From the stories they told, and the amusements they contrived, it became clear to Murdo that Jon Wing and his men were used to lengthy sea voyages in strange, if not hostile, waters. Murdo listened to their talk and learned what manner of men his fellow pilgrims were.

Although the crewmen were Norsemen one and all, Murdo discovered that none of them had seen their homeland in many years. Five had lived in Eire: Hallvard, Hogni, Tiggi, Vestein, and Svidur; and five had lived in Scotland: Fafnir, Sturli, Raefil, Nial, and Oski; three had lived in Normandy: Olaf, Ymir, and Digri; and two had lived in both England and Frankland: Amund, and Arnor. All sixteen, including Jon Wing, had sailed with King Magnus on various expeditions, and spoke well of him. Murdo was impressed by the respect the king commanded, even in his absence.

He also began to unravel the complicated system of loyalties which bound the crew to one another, and to the ship-which they considered second to none in the king's fleet. Skidbladnir, he discovered, belonged not to Magnus, but to Jon Wing, who had agreed to provide his ship and crew to support the king on his pilgrimage, in return for the plunder they would receive. The crew and their master were not ordinary vassals of the king, but mercenaries who had taken oaths of fealty for the duration of the voyage.

When the crew discovered that it was Murdo's first voyage beyond sight of his island home, they undertook to teach him all they knew of the seaman's craft. They taught Murdo how to steer a longship-how to rig the sail, and which guide stars were most useful. And when Murdo proved a ready pupil, they delighted in teaching him other things as well: how to catch fish ten different ways, how to read the water for signs of trouble, how to forecast the weather by the smell of the air, and how to take care of his fair skin.

Unfortunately, this last lesson came only after Murdo had fallen asleep in the hot southern sun. He awoke feeling sick to his stomach, and as evening came on, began to experience a most remarkable agony. He felt as if hot pitch had been tipped over his back and shoulders and then set to the torch; he could not stand to have his clothes touch him, and the slightest movement brought rushes of pain cascading over him.

After the sailors had a good laugh over his calamity, they took pity on him and showed him how to take the fiery sting out of the sunburn with an unguent made from seaweed, and thereafter-until his skin developed its own protection-how to avoid getting another nasty burn.

Rarely out of sight of land, they put in to shore for fresh water as often as necessary, but seldom camped overnight; they much preferred lying at anchor in a calm bay or hidden cove. The few times they did sleep on solid ground, Jon made certain it was far from any human habitation; he said he did not trust folk from foreign lands. Once, however, after coming ashore for water they found themselves near a small farming settlement; after dark some of the crew went off for firewood, returning some while later with three sheep and a clutch of duck eggs.

The sailors claimed the sheep were strays they had discovered wandering lonely in the woods, but Murdo noticed that one of the men had a vicious gash on his leg not unlike a dog bite, and another displayed an unexplained lump on his forehead. Jon Wing seemed uninterested in further explanations, and everyone, even the mildly disapproving monks, enjoyed the mutton for the next few days.

As the endless succession of days stretched on, Murdo accustomed himself to the ceaselessly bouncing boat, and grew to enjoy sleeping under the night sky with its endless, wheeling canopy of stars. Often, when the wind