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permanently stationed in the city. They met several of their order and entertained them with a meal of fresh bread flavored with caraway and honey, soft cheese, and wine diluted with lemon water.
    After breaking their fast, they returned to the palace to find a very irritated Philippianous, who had been made to stand in the courtyard in the hot sun while he waited.
    â€œHere you are,” said the commander, strolling into the courtyard, “I had almost forgotten about you. Do forgive me.”
    â€œI would have left long ago, but that pig of a porter would not let me go. What do you want from me? I have already told you all I know.”
    â€œThis for your trouble,” said de Bracineaux, holding up a gold coin. “And two more if you can remember where those two young women went after they left here.”
    â€œKeep your filthy money,” Philippianous spat. “I am leaving.” He pushed past the sergeant and started toward the courtyard entrance.
    â€œNo,” replied the commander calmly, “I do not think we are finished yet.” He made a gesture with his hands and three Templar soldiers appeared in the doorway behind him. “Take hold of him.”
    Philippianous made to dart away, but the Templars seized him and bore him up. “I am a citizen!” he shouted, struggling ineffectually in their grasp. “I have done nothing wrong!”
    To his sergeant, the commander said, “Bring me some coals.” As Gislebert hurried away, he added, “If d’Anjou is still abed, rouse him. He would not thank us to miss this.”
    Commander de Bracineaux went to his room and removed his spotless white tabard. Picking up his leather gauntlets, he tucked them into his belt, and then attached the hanger for his dagger.
    He drew the knife from its scabbard and tried the edge, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the weapon as he ran his thumb along the honed and polished blade and thought backto the first time he had seen it, along with five others in a box delivered to the ship by a young lord he had tried to recruit in Rouen—the same self-righteous fool of a young nobleman whose meddling had caused him so much trouble all those years ago.
    At long last, that old debt was settled.
    A thin smile touched his lips, for until that very moment he had not considered the fact that it was none other than Duncan who had brought him the knife when it had been left behind; he had been so eager to please.
    The commander replaced the dagger and, as he walked from the room, he wondered if Duncan, as he lay dying, had fully appreciated the grim irony of the situation. Had he, as his life ebbed away, savored the delicious absurdity of being slain by the very weapon he had supplied?
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    The Shrine of Mary the Virgin served as a private chapel for the residents of Blachernae Palace, and the crypt below it was a labyrinth of connecting vaults which housed tombs for minor royalty. It was a suitably dark and private place where the proceedings would not be disturbed.
    Commander de Bracineaux made his way down the narrow steps leading to the first and largest chamber of the crypt. He paused at the small altar with its gilded crucifix and its ever-burning lamp, making a haphazard sign of the cross. Then, setting aside the crucifix and lamp, he took up the altar stole—a narrow strip of cloth with a sturdy cord binding—and proceeded to the chamber beyond, where three Templars were holding an extremely agitated Philippianous, while a fourth stood guard at the doorway.
    â€œRelease me!” shouted Philippianous as the commander stepped into the room. “I have done nothing! I am a citizen, and I demand that you release me at once.”
    â€œSave your breath,” de Bracineaux replied. Handing the altar stole to the Templar at the doorway, he said, “Bind him and put him over there.” He pointed to a low, flat-topped sarcophagus of gray stone. “Then leave