"It seems the amir approves," I observed to Harald. "The Sea Wolves will keep their treasure."
Just then, the slaves who had squeezed themselves through the gap in those confused last moments saw us and rushed forward, crying out to be allowed to journey with us. They whined most piteously: "Do not leave us! We will die in the desert! Be merciful! Take us with you!"
Sadiq and Faysal held hasty council, whereupon Faysal returned to address them. "The Lord Sadiq is moved by your pleas. In exchange for your promise to leave us in peace, we will see you safe as far as the Amida road, but no further."
Sure, they all agreed readily, and, after everyone was given water and something to eat, we started off in two long columns. Sadiq and Kazimain led the way, followed by Ddewi on my horse, with Brynach walking beside him-Ddewi was not fit enough to walk and required someone to help him keep his saddle. Dugal and I walked behind them, carrying the bishop's bones, and the Sea Wolves came next, having divided their mass of treasure into many smaller bundles and distributed the weight evenly among all eighteen. Behind came the pack animals bearing the supplies, with the other slaves after them; the amir's mounted rafiq came last.
What a long, slow line we made. And it stretched out longer and moved slower as the day wore on. We camped early; the sun was not yet down when we stopped, and we had travelled but a short distance. But the newly-freed captives could go no further. Still, we were away from the hateful mines, and the valley stretched invitingly before us.
The amir made his camp a little apart from the others, and went to sleep almost as soon as he had finished his evening meal, saying that he thought he had taken too much sun. I was eager to hear how my friends had fared, and mentioned as much to Kazimain, who said, "Go, my love. Renew your friendship. You will have much to tell one another." She turned to where, despite the still-warm dusk, Sadiq lay rolled in his robe beside the little campfire. "I would sit with the amir a little," she said.
So, I made my way to where the monks had made their camp among some great smooth, flat rocks beside the trail. Dugal and Brynach reclined, exhausted, on the rocks, and Ddewi, hunch-shouldered, sat splay-legged beneath them placidly feeding twigs and small knots of dry grass to a tiny fire.
Settling myself on a broad ledge-like stone, I said, "Well now, Dugal, here was I thinking you had given up waiting for me."
"Aidan, man," Dugal said in a lightly reproving tone, raising his head slightly, "look at you now. How were we to know it was you and not the very prince of Sarazens?"
"And who else would be coming for you?"
"Oh, it was a sweet surprise," he remarked, rolling onto his elbow, "to see you striding out so brave and bold. Where did you get that knife, Dana?"
Withdrawing the blade from my belt, I handed it to him. "It is called Qadi," I explained. "The amir gave it to me."
Dugal ran his fingers over the jewelled weapon, making appreciative noises. "Did you see this, Bryn?" he said, flourishing the gleaming blade in the air. "Had I a daigear like this, I might have rescued us myself. Ah, but you put the overseer in his place, I believe; so you did."
Ddewi laughed at this-a soft chuckle only, but it was the first indication I had that he apprehended anything of his surroundings. I looked to Brynach, who said, "Oh, he comes to himself a little sometimes. Perhaps he can recover." His gaze shifted from the younger monk to me. "I am still wondering how you came to be among these Arabs."
"That is easily told," I replied, and explained about my sojourn in Trebizond with the eparch, and the ambush on the way to Sebastea which led to my enslavement at the mine.
"It happened to us the very same way," remarked Brynach.
"Aidan believes it was no accident," Dugal informed him, and went on to describe for Brynach my assumption that the emperor's courtier had personally arranged the disasters which had overtaken us.
"But it cannot be," objected Brynach. "Nikos befriended us; he never had reason to betray us, or wish us harm." He shook his head slowly. "I am certain he was merely trying to help. The holy book was without its cover, and he-"
"The book!" What with one thing and another, I had forgotten all about Colum Cille's holy book and left it behind.
"Calm yourself, Aidan," Dugal said. "We have it still." He indicated Ddewi, idly playing with the fire.
"Ddewi," said Brynach gently, "Stand up and show us the book."
Though he gave no indication of having heard, the mute young monk rose from his place and turned towards us. Looking more closely, I saw the square shape of the cambutta beneath his ragged mantle. Taking the hem of his garment in both hands, he raised it to reveal the leather bag, its strap slung around his neck and over one shoulder; he was wearing the book on his chest.
I resisted the temptation to have him take it out of the bag, to open it and examine its pages once more; but this was neither the time nor the place. "Thank you, Ddewi," Brynach said, and he sat down again, once more as far away from us as his shattered thoughts allowed.
"Cadoc gave it to him as we stood in the yard that day," Brynach explained; I knew well which day he meant. "Poor Ddewi has not breathed a word to anyone since. I do believe that what little wit remains him he owes to the book."
"He keeps the book," Dugal observed, "and the book keeps him."
"We were to get a new cover made," Brynach lamented, "but that will not happen now."
"There are silversmiths enough in Constantinople," I remarked. "Whyever did you think to go to Trebizond in the first place?"
"Did I say we were going to Trebizond?" Brynach wondered.
"No, Dugal told me," I replied, remembering our brief conversation at the mines. "He said you wanted to go there to get a new cumtach made for the book."
"Well," Brynach allowed, "it is true we would have made harbour in Trebizond, naturally. But we were on our way to Sebastea; Cadoc wanted to see the governor."
A thin chill snaked down my ribs. "What did you say?" Although I had heard him quite plainly, I made him repeat it word for word. "You are certain-Cadoc wanted to see the governor?"
"Aye, he did," answered Brynach. "It seems the two had met once when this Honorius was a Procurator in Gaul."
"And was it before this desire was known," I asked, "or after that Nikos became interested in helping you?"
The canny Briton stared at me for a moment. "Ah, I see which way your mind is working, brother, but you are wrong," he answered with satisfaction. "I know for a fact that the voyage was Cadoc's idea entirely. He was set on going before anyone ever laid eyes on Nikos. Since we were travelling to Sebastea anyway, the bishop merely asked if anyone could be found in that place who might help us restore the book."
"Were you with them when they spoke?" I asked, my voice rising to a demand. "Did you hear Cadoc say this?"
"I was and I did," Brynach answered firmly. "And that is why I know you are wrong to think the worst of Nikos. He was trying to help us."
Despite his insistence, my suspicions remained; but nothing would be gained by hammering at Brynach, so I left the matter for the present. On the face of it, his explanation seemed logical enough: Nikos did not send the monks to Trebizond; Cadoc had it in mind to go there before Nikos became involved. Even so, the thing did not sit well with me.
Talk turned to the rigours ahead and, as night deepened around us, Gunnar appeared out of the twilight to say that Harald was asking for me. Regarding the Britons a little awkwardly, he said, "Jarl Harald would speak to you, Aeddan. If you are willing."