the corpses to their final resting-place.
The monk was interred first, and then the knights, two at either hand. The symmetry seemed to satisfy some desire on the part of the Spanish knights to see their swordbrothers accompanied on their eternal journey side by side with a priest. Once they had been arranged, their faces were covered by the hoods of their cloaks and loose dirt was pushed over the bodies.
Cait stood and watched in the gently flickering light as the knights packed and smoothed the mounded earth with their hands. Then one of the Spaniards took up a wooden cross he had made from a forked branch and crosspiece lashed together with a leather strap. The crude cross was set in the top of the mound and anchored with a few small stones.
They stood for a long moment in silence, contemplating the grave, and then, taking a burning branch from the fire, Rognvald held it over the mound. 'In elder times,' he said, 'a fallen warrior would be sent on his journey to the otherworld with fire. Tonight we will honour this ancient custom, and leave our brothers and companions with a farewell flame to light their way through the dark valley of death to the City of Light.'
With that, he planted the burning branch in the grave mound to one side of the cross. He straightened and stepped back. 'May they enter the Great King's presence with thanksgiving. May they join the glad company of Heaven and find everlasting joy in the service of the Lord of Hosts.'
Svein took up a burning branch and likewise planted it in the mounded soil. 'Farewell, my friends. Though we must leave you in this strange place, we leave a flame to light your path. Go home to God.'
Next, Paulo took up a brand. He stuck it in the mound, saying, 'Thadeus, Ricardo, Hernando, Emari, Brother Matthias-you were my friends in life. Death has taken you away, but you will live in my memory, and in the deeds I shall do in your names. Farewell.'
At last, thought Cait sadly, I have learned all their names, and now it is too late.
The other Spaniard removed a branch from the fire and, holding it above the mound, said: 'Today I lost the friends of my youth. Tonight, I mourn the loss. Tomorrow, I will avenge them. From this moment, the blade at my side is dedicated to you, my friends, and I pray to Almighty God that it will deal justice to the cowards who cut short your lives.' He plunged the burning brand into the mound. 'I, Rodrigo Bilar, make this vow.'
Cait knew the sentiment only too well, and shrank from the recognition. Oh, Rodrigo, she thought, you do not know what you are saying.
Yngvar and Dag each bade their dead friends a heartfelt, if simple, farewell and planted their torches. Then it was Cait's turn. Plucking a branch from the fire, she stepped to the graveside and stared at the great oblong bulge of earth. What was there to say? She did not know these men; anything she said would be a triviality, an empty gesture that would mock their sacrifice.
So, without a word, she added her torch to the circle of flame around the wooden cross. The party stood for a moment in silence, listening to the wind sighing through the unseen treetops. Then Rognvald led them back to the ruined camp where, after they had finished putting up the tent for Cait, he addressed them, saying, 'Get what sleep you can. We resume the search tomorrow at dawn.'
Yngvar prepared a warm gruel of pease porridge with bacon, but Cait was too tired and numb with sorrow to eat. Instead, she went into the tent and sank down on to the thin pallet of pine boughs that served for a bed. She pulled Alethea's cloak around her and lay as still as she could-as if by remaining motionless, she might calm the ceaseless whirling of her thoughts. And though she closed her eyes, she kept seeing the Moorish bandits circling and circling like ravening wolves. She heard again the dull thunder of the horses' hooves, and the desperate shouting of the knights as they strove to • fend off the attack.
And, somewhere, above the clamour of battle, she heard Alethea's screams. Although she had not been aware of it at the time, she must have heard her sister's cries for help as she was carried off. She heard something else, too: a man's voice, frantically shouting for help. The hopelessness of the cry brought her bolt upright in her bed with a gasp.
'Abu!'
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The sound of the knights saddling the horses and preparing to strike camp brought Cait from an unquiet sleep. Her eyes felt like raw wounds, and her mouth tasted of smoke and ashes. She dragged herself on to her knees and pulled back the tent flap. The sky was dark still, but a thin line of pale red light was showing through the trees to the east. She rose and shuffled out of the tent, and felt the cold sting of the air on her face. Last night's wind had brought cold weather to the mountains; there was frost on the ground.
On stiff, unfeeling legs, she moved to where Rognvald was throwing a saddle pad over the back of a horse. He greeted her sombrely, and said, 'We will leave as soon as the horses are saddled. I think it best to take everything with us. I do not expect we will come back here again.'
'The wagon will slow us down, will it not?'
'Dag is not yet well enough to sit a horse. He can drive the wagon and look after the pack animals. We will mark the trail for him and tell him where to stop and wait. It will slow us, yes, but it cannot be helped.'
'Abu is missing, too,' she told him, her voice taking on a confessional quality.
He finished smoothing the pad and then glanced at her. 'Yes,' he said. 'I know.' He bent down, lifted the saddle which was laying on the ground beside him, and hefted it into place. 'I did not think you would remember.'
Another time and the reprimand would have rankled and irritated; now, however, she merely swallowed glumly. 'You did not find his body when you were searching the wood,' she said after a moment, 'so perhaps we may yet find him. He cannot have gone far.'
'He has a horse,' Rognvald told her.
'How do you know?'
'There were three dead Moors, and only two horses.'
'You think he took it?' Cait was baffled by this unexpected turn. 'Then we shall have to divide our forces and search for them both-is that what you're thinking?'
'I am thinking,' replied Rognvald, stooping to gather the cinch strap dangling beneath the horse's belly, 'that where we find Alethea, there we will also find Abu.'
'He followed her,' Cait murmured. 'Of course.' She was slow to pick up the thread of Rognvald's thought, but now she had it and felt her blood warm once more to the chase.
Stepping close, she put her hand on Rognvald's arm. 'I am sorry for my shameful behaviour; it was not becoming a lady of rank. I allowed my anxiety over my sister's disappearance to cloud my judgement-a fact which I deeply regret.'
Rognvald bent down to fasten the strap.
'I have offered my apology,' Cait said, her voice growing tight. 'Did you hear what I said?'
'I heard.'
'Do you not accept it?'
'Lady, it is not for me to accept or reject. Am I a priest now, waiting at your beck and call to shrive you?'
Stung by his reproach, she removed her hand from his arm. 'Our priest is dead.'
'Yes,' agreed the tall knight. 'So, I think you will have to suffer your pangs of conscience as best you can.'
'I do suffer them, sir. And I was taught the virtue of repentance. Obviously, you were not.'
'See here, we all do things in the heat of battle we later regret. War is regret.' He gave a sharp tug, pulling the cinch strap tight. 'Do not look to me to soothe away your remorse with kind words and kisses.'
'Oh, never you fear, my lord,' she spat. 'Though you die in your bed an ill-tempered old man, you will not hear me apologize again.'
She turned on her heel and stormed away. Thus, the unhappy day began.
As soon as the tent was packed away and the wagon loaded and secured, the much-diminished party moved on. They accompanied Dag and the wagon a short way along the track, and arranged a place to meet later in the day before turning aside to take up the trail they had abandoned the previous evening.
The ground was more rough and rocky than Cait remembered -or perhaps it was the coating of frost which
