go just a little further?'
'It is no use. Even if we gain the top, we will not be able to see anything in the dark. We must go back now if we are to meet Dag before nightfall.'
That was the end of it. As before, they marked the place so they could find it the next day and turning to the high hills to the west of the pool, rode away. The sky had grown dark by the time they gained the wagon trail; the deep-rutted track was treacherous in the dark, so they were forced to dismount and cross the undulating hills on foot – which meant a cold slog along rocky, water-filled furrows.
They saw the glint of Dag's fire from a hilltop long before they reached the place. Cait watched the glimmering of flame as it grew slowly larger, step by step. Her fingers, stiff on the reins of her horse, were numb and her toes stung with the cold; she imagined stretching her feet before a blazing fire, clutching a steaming bowl of porridge between her hands, and feeling the blessed heat warm her frozen bones.
This reverie proved so pleasant, she imagined sleeping in a dry bed heaped with furs in a room warmed with burning braziers, and the delicious feeling of fur against her skin-then realized with a start that she was imagining her chamber at home in Caithness. How many times, she wondered, had she slept in that room in just that way?
Dag had the wagon unhitched and a small store of firewood collected by the time they reached the camp. Despite his throbbing head, he had spent the short span between midday and dusk doing what he could to set up the camp, and they were grateful for it. Indeed, the prospect of warming themselves by the fire so cheered the knights that, with wild whoops and ecstatic cries, they raced down the last slope to the picket line Dag had strung between the trees beside the trail; they hurried through unsaddling and grooming the horses-rubbing them down with handfuls of dry straw before watering them and tying on the feedbags. That chore finished, they hastened to thaw their freezing hands and feet before the flames.
After they had warmed themselves awhile, Rognvald said, 'We will need more firewood tonight. See what you can find.'
While the others moved off in search of more wood, Cait, Dag, and Rognvald set about making a supper of boiled salt pork with beans and hard bread. It was ready by the time the knights returned, and the childlike abandon with which they gave themselves to their food made Cait smile. 'They are just overgrown boys,' she observed as she and Rognvald followed them to the bright circle of warmth and light.
'It is good they should enjoy a dry night out of the wind and rain,' the knight replied. 'It will be the last we see for a while.'
Cait glanced at him for an explanation.
'Tomorrow we must abandon the wagon,' he told her. 'I had hoped we would be able to give Dag another day or two longer to recover, but the Moors are fleeing into the mountains. If we are to have any hope of catching them, we cannot return to the wagon each night.'
'Do you think it will be very many nights?'
'In truth, I hoped we would get sight of them today, and the matter would have been decided.' He paused, and then as if thinking aloud, said, 'We shall take with us as much food and fodder as we can carry, but the tents, poles, and irons and all the rest will have to stay behind.' His expression became apologetic, and Cait realized he meant the chests of extra clothes and personal belongings.
'If that is how it must be,' she replied, steeling herself for the privation ahead, 'so be it. We will catch them. We will get Thea back.'
'Never doubt it.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
'I am Carlo de la Coruna, magistrate and governor of this fine and prosperous town,' said the man. He made a flourish in the air with his hand, removed his fine red cap and bowed deeply. 'On behalf of the worthy citizens of Palencia, I welcome you and your excellent company, and may I wish you a most enjoyable stay.'
The knight took one look at the chubby, round-shouldered fellow in his peculiar hat, and decided that he was an absurdity likely to cause problems if not strenuously avoided. 'Good day to you, magistrate,' he replied stiffly. 'As you can see, we are in need of food and lodging. I will thank you to arrange it.'
The magistrate puffed out his cheeks. 'Well…' he began to protest, but thought better of it, and said, 'Of course, my lord, if that is what you wish. It will be my pleasure.' Turning, he summoned his deputy to his side. 'Grieco! Where are you? Come here, Grieco. I want you to take word to Master Hernando at the inn. Tell him I am sending very important guests to stay with him. Tell him -' Breaking off, he turned once more to the newcomers and said, 'If you please, my lord, may I know who I have the pleasure of welcoming?'
'I am Renaud de Bracineaux, Master and Grand Commander of the Knights Templar of Jerusalem,' he replied. 'And this,' he indicated the fair-haired, thin-faced man on horseback beside him, 'is my companion Baron Felix d'Anjou. Also with us is Bertrano, Archbishop of Santiago de Compostela; unfortunately, friend Bertrano is indisposed and cannot speak to you now. I want rooms for three. The rest of my men will lodge at the monastery.' Turning his arid gaze to the soggy, windblown street, he shivered in the autumn chill. 'You do have a monastery in this…' he hesitated, 'this place, do you not? And an inn?'
'But of course, my lord,' answered Governor Carlo proudly. 'We have a very fine monastery. It has long been renowned for -'
'Good,' said de Bracineaux decisively. 'You can show us where to find it.' He called Gislebert to attend them. 'The magistrate will lead you to the monastery. Lodge the men and then come to us at the inn.'
Turning back to Carlo, the Templar said, 'Come now, governor, my men have ridden far today and are in want of a hot meal and beds. Be quick about it, and you will find it worth your while.'
Governor Carlo stared in astonished indignation. Who did these men think they were to order him about so? Even the king was more gracious to his subjects than these arrogant saddle-polishers. Well, if they wanted him to lead them to the monastery he would do it. But it would be the last service he would perform for them. After that, they would pay for what they received. Moreover, as they imagined themselves emperors of vast domain, they would pay royally. The thought suffused his face with a glow of magisterial satisfaction. Carlo smiled, bowed, and led the heavy footed Gislebert away.
'Simpletons,' muttered the Templar, 'all of them-complete and utter simpletons.'
'Come now, de Bracineaux. That is overharsh,' said d'Anjou. 'It is a substantial enough town and we have seen far worse in recent days. I think we may well find some amusement here.'
'We will not have time to amuse ourselves,' de Bracineaux growled. 'The moment we find this priest Matthias, we will be on our way.'
'Have a heart, de Bracineaux,' sniffed the baron diffidently. 'We have spent the last three days slopping through mud up to our fetlocks, and I demand a few decent nights' sleep in a bed that does not float.'
'We shall see,' grunted the Templar commander. 'First we find the priest.'
'The miserable pisspot of a priest can wait,' corrected d'Anjou placidly. 'First we find the inn.'
De Bracineaux allowed himself to be persuaded. He, too, was sick of the damp and filth, and the prospect of a hot meal, dry clothes, and a jug of mulled wine melted his resolve. 'Very well. Two nights,' he agreed. 'Have one of the men bring up the wagon.'
They proceeded down the crooked main street of the town to the inn where young Grieco was waiting with the innkeeper, a balding man in a big shirt with baggy sleeves and a greasy linen cloth tied around the bulge in his middle. 'Welcome! Welcome, my friends!' he said, running forward to take the reins of the commander's horse. 'Please, come in. Eat, drink, and take your ease.' Looking past the two riders to the wagon, he said, 'I see you have a lady with you. Let me assure you she will be most comfortable. I will have my wife prepare a special bath for her.'
'Take no trouble,' the Templar told him curtly. 'It is not a woman.'
As he spoke, the wagon rolled creaking to a halt behind them; the driver climbed down and went to the back where he removed the board and allowed the bellicose passenger to emerge.
'Dios mio? gasped the innkeeper, taking in the imposing bulk swathed in heavy black robes. 'It is the lord archbishop!' Turning on the young man beside him, he cried, 'Grieco, you fool! Why did you not tell me the
