I had forgotten how very changeable she could be; like intemperate weather, Sydoni could be mild and calm one moment, and hurling thunderbolts the next.

'If I thought to leave anything out,' I replied, quickly losing my patience, 'it was only to spare your feelings.'

'My feelings?' She held her head to one side and regarded me as if I were mad. 'I have no feelings for Commander de Bracineaux.'

'Your father's feelings then. I know they are friends.'

'Teh! You demand that we depart Cairo with unseemly haste,' she snapped, 'for the purpose of eluding the Templars, and now you think to protect my father's finer feelings?'

I was tired, and it was futile arguing with her in any event. 'I suspect the Templars are in league with the Fida'in,' I told her.

'I knew it!' she cried, seizing my arm in her excitement. 'I knew he was lying to us. The good and kind de Bracineaux, lying through his wicked teeth.'

Needless to say, her reaction-gratifying as it was in its shameless intensity-took me aback.

'He told us he was doing all he could to secure your release,' she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. 'When father grew impatient, he told us to wait and pray, and leave everything to him, that negotiations had reached a precarious stage-the least word or action out of place, and we would risk losing everything, he said. Lies-it was all lies.'

'And that was when Yordanus approached the Copts,' I surmised.

'Indeed, it was his first thought,' Sydoni replied. 'He wanted to make contact with them the day we arrived, but had promised de Bracineaux he would let the Templars try first. After waiting three days, he and Padraig decided that it would harm nothing to have our friends look into matters. The Copts of Cairo,' she added proudly, 'have been living with the Saracens a very long time; they have many influential contacts throughout the city.'

'If not for your friends,' I declared, 'I have no doubt I would still be a prisoner in the caliph's palace. De Bracineaux did not care about me-at least, I was far from foremost in his thoughts.'

'He wanted the Holy Rood,' Sydoni said. 'You were just an excuse to help him get it. He used you, just as he used my father.' She regarded me wonderingly. 'But how did you discover he was with the Fida'in?'

'I saw them together.' I yawned, exhaustion overcoming me. 'They were trying to break into the treasure house.'

To recover the rood.'

'Yes-that is, I believe that is what they were after.'

She stood abruptly. 'Sleep now. I will wake you for supper.'

'Sydoni,' I said, and realized how much I enjoyed saying her name, 'please do not tell Yordanus about my suspicions.'

'We must tell him. We cannot keep it from him.'

'I know. But let us wait until tonight at least. I want Padraig to hear it, too.'

'Very well,' she agreed. 'Tonight, then.'

She closed the door and I heard her climb the wooden steps and then her soft footfall on the deck above. I lay back on the soft-cushioned bed, my head in the place where Sydoni lay her head; and I fell asleep to the slow and gentle rocking of the ship beneath me, and the scent of sandalwood drifting through my dreams.

FORTY-FIVE

I awoke to a cool touch on my forehead and a warm breath in my ear. I had slept long and deep, and roused myself with difficulty. When I finally opened my eyes, Sydoni was gone and I wondered if I had dreamed her. I pulled on my boots and climbed back to the upper deck, emerging into a sky of radiant, deep-flamed red and gold, with darker shades of sapphire in the east where the first stars were already shining. Low green Egyptian hills were gliding slowly past, and goat bells across the water tinkled as the shepherd led his flock to the fold for the night.

Sydoni was kneeling before a low charcoal brazier cooking red fish on latticework spits. She ladled olive oil over the meat, which made the glowing coals sizzle and flare, and threw a delicious silvery cloud of smoke into the air; when the flames died down, she squeezed half the juice of a yellow lemon over the fish, glancing up at me as she did so. Her smile was ready and welcoming. 'Good evening,' she said.

'It smells wonderful,' I told her.

She held out a bowl of large flat yellow seeds. 'Try these.'

I tipped a few into my mouth and munched them. They had a salty flavour. 'Nice.'

'Parched squash seeds. The farmers make them. They also make this,' she said and, taking up a large earthenware jar, poured a clear, amber liquid into a large copper cup. The liquid frothed up with a white foam, and I smelled the flowery scent of good fresh ale as I raised the bowl to my lips. 'They call it Tears of the Crocodile.'

'Ol, by another name,' I said, savouring the sweet, bitter nut-like taste as it slid effortlessly down my throat. How long had it been since I had last lifted a cup of ale?

'The Egyptians say they invented ale,' Sydoni said, then shrugged lightly. 'But they say that about everything.'

'Padraig insists the Celts were first to make it-but he says that about everything.' I sipped the bittersweet brew with satisfaction, and breathed the soft fragrant air deep into my lungs. 'Where is Padraig?'

'He went below to say his prayers.' She turned the fish on the charcoal and squeezed more of the lemon over it. 'Vespers before the Holy Rood, he said.'

'The dreamer awakes!' called Yordanus. I turned as he came up from the stern where he had been talking to his pilot. Padraig and Wazim were not about.

'I feel as if I could take on an army,' I said.

'I hope you can eat like one,' said Sydoni. 'My father has decreed a celebration to honour your rescue. We stopped a little while ago at a market and bought everything in the settlement.'

'We want to honour your return as the occasion merits,' he said. 'God bless you, Duncan, but it is good to see you. I am sorry if I cannot refrain from saying it. I do not mean to embarrass you, but it is good to see you again.'

'And you, Yordanus,' I replied. 'Please, it does not embarrass me in the least. Indeed, there were times I thought I would not be seeing you, or anyone else, ever again.'

We talked of my captivity in the caliph's palace. Already, time was at work, blunting the sharp edges of that existence and bathing it in softer hues.

'Is that why you wrote it down?' asked Sydoni. I noticed how naturally she slipped in beside me, and remembered how much I missed her simple womanly graces.

'Just so,' I affirmed, and then remembered what had happened to it in the stream. 'But I fear it is ruined now. I will just have to remember as best I can without it.'

'Perhaps not,' said Padraig as he joined us, and I saw he was holding one of the scrolls from my bundle. 'This papyrus is remarkable in many ways. See here,' he peeled back a portion of the scroll to reveal the still damp surface, 'the ink has washed away, it is true, but a stain remains.'

I looked forlornly at the faint grey marks. 'It cannot be read like that.'

'No,' agreed Padraig casually, 'but it can be copied.'

'The monks of Ayios Moni excel in such work. They are always copying old scrolls and parchments. We can take your book to them,' Yordanus suggested eagerly.

'Papa,' said Sydoni, 'you presume too much. Perhaps Duncan does not wish to return with us to Cyprus.'

'No?' The old man's face fell, but he recovered himself quickly. 'Of course, I was forgetting myself. My friends, you have only to say where you wish to go, and this ship will take you there.' He looked from me to Padraig expectantly. 'Well?'

'I think,' said Sydoni, touching my arm lightly with her fingertips, 'it would be best to tell father what you told me.'

I nodded and drew a reluctant breath. 'I think none of us should return to Cyprus just yet,' I began. 'I have reason to believe that de Bracineaux and his men are in league with the Fida'in.'