Early the next morning, Lothar rode his warhorse, carefully tended by his attendants, to the city gates, where he met Baron Godfrey's party. Prajna, Fringilla, and Hans rode with him.

The hour was still young. In the hazy dawn, Jerusalem's watchtowers trailed thin plumes of smoke. Beyond the walls, yellow-brown badlands stretched to the horizon. The riders wound through them like a column of marching ants, with scrub brush scattered across the emptiness. The vastness of the land made a man feel very small.

Sir Kevin peeled a pomegranate as he rode and struck up a conversation with Hans. "You're a squire? Forgive me, but you don't look much like one. That coat of arms of yours... it's very close to the device used by that German order."

He meant the Teutonic Order. Modeled on the Hospitallers, the Teutonic Knights had begun as a medical brotherhood caring for pilgrims and Crusaders before evolving into a military order, with their healing functions delegated to subordinate bodies. Founded late, they were far weaker in Jerusalem than the Templars, concentrated mostly in their holdings around Acre and the northern territories. At present, they were close allies—or perhaps "vassals"—of the Hospitallers; together, the two orders served as a counterweight to the aggressive, expansionist Templars.

"It does look similar. A coincidence." Hans smiled politely. "Sir Kevin, are you from Albion?"

"I am. I once served as a personal knight to Henry II, King of England and Anjou. I came to the Holy Land alone five years ago. I was much younger then."

Kevin smiled. "There are a great many men named Hans in Germania. The name is… well, common."

Hans replied evenly: "Kevin is also a very common name in Albion."

"Quite right. Which is why I've taken an imperial name: Uranus. What do you think?"

"It has a decent ring to it."

"Tell me about your lord, Hans. I heard from some of the pilgrims that he once fought and killed a werewolf knight in single combat, at a tourney, of all places."

"It is true."

Hans's face filled with deep reverence. "My lord makes me run errands and do the rough work, it's true. But he is a great knight: brave, and full of stratagems."

Kevin looked unconvinced. He stared at Lothar's back. "On your oath as a knight, you are not spinning tales?"

Hans bristled. "Sir Kevin, are you suggesting I would violate the knight's code?"

---

Lothar and Godfrey rode at the head of the column, their mounts now Arab horses: tall, proud animals far better suited to the climate. They talked of this and that in a lazy, unhurried fashion.

Godfrey's eyes drifted, not quite casually, to the two women riding behind Lothar. He frowned.

"Lothar. You are not yet married, correct?"

"I am not."

"The late king's widow, Princess Maria Komnene, of the House of Komnenos, has asked me to speak on her behalf. She intends to betroth Princess Isabella to you. Marry her, and you become a member of the royal house."

Lothar knew the name. The Komnenoi were the imperial dynasty of the Eastern Empire. Maria Komnene was the sister of Emperor Alexios II, the late husband of Empress Lagaya, and the widow of the previous King of Jerusalem, Amalric. She was a dowager queen, yes, but she was not the mother of Baldwin IV or Sibylla. A Greek of the Orthodox faith, her standing in Jerusalem was far below that of the Queen Mother Agnes.

Lothar shook his head. "I thank you for the kindness, my lord. But I have no intention of marrying a royal princess."

"I wish you would reconsider." But Godfrey did not press the matter further. It was, after all, only a feeler. Even if Lothar agreed, the match might never come to pass. Everything depended on the success of his mission, and on what title Baldwin IV would grant him in return.

"I understand."

A slight heaviness settled between them.

Balian was not among the returning party. Godfrey had sent him to the Ibelin holdings at Ramla: to sharpen his skills in administration. Balian was the baron's sole remaining heir. His first two sons had both died in battle.

Godfrey looked at Lothar. Several times, he seemed about to speak, then thought better of it.

Lothar sighed. "My lord, whatever it is, speak plainly, please."

Godfrey let out a breath. "Lothar, a young man sowing some wild oats is nothing to remark upon. But this mission of yours is exceedingly dangerous. Do you truly mean to bring two chambermaids along?"

"Lord Godfrey, you misunderstand."

Lothar hesitated, then decided on the truth. "Those two are not my maids. They are my advisors. Both of them are witches."

"Witches?"

Godfrey's face went through an impressive series of transformations. Shock. Fear. Envy. Awe.

Disgust. It was quite the spectacle.

For most people in this world, anything supernatural belonged strictly in romances. But for a man of Godfrey's stature, dealings with such beings were far from unknown. Baldwin IV himself had sought out witches for treatment. If the Holy Land's religious climate had been a little less suffocating, if hiring a witch advisor didn't risk damaging the Crown's reputation so badly, not even the King of Jerusalem would refuse a witch's service.

Witches possessed more than supernatural power. Their learning encompassed agriculture, metallurgy, philosophy, history, languages, and archaeology. Even stripped of magic, they were among the finest advisors a lord could hope to employ.

"Forgive me. I misunderstood."

Godfrey turned in the saddle and offered both women a bow of his head in apology. Even a great lord thought twice before offending a witch.

"There is nothing to forgive, my lord," Lothar said. "No one expects to find two witches serving an unremarkable knight. It's not your fault."

"Hah. You are far from unremarkable. After yesterday's performance, you're a known man in Jerusalem. More than a few noble ladies and unwed daughters of houses are taking an interest." Godfrey smiled.

"Why else do you think the Dowager Queen Maria proposed Princess Isabella? You are every bit as promising as Guy of Lusignan, the Queen's party's man."

Lothar was silent a moment.

He had perhaps underestimated his own appeal.

Seen from Jerusalem's marriage market, he was a remarkable prospect: handsome, articulate, learned, and a Champion Knight who had publicly slain a notorious werewolf in single combat at a tournament in the Austrian March.

And now he enjoyed the personal favor of Baldwin IV, who had already entrusted him with a secret mission. Barring disaster, his rise was only a matter of time.

Godfrey smiled. "If you have no taste for royal princesses, I can arrange a marriage more suited to your station. A generous dowry would make it much easier for you to make your mark in Jerusalem."

"That won't be necessary, Lord Godfrey. A witch's favor does not come without cost. It means I may be bound to celibacy for a long while yet."

Godfrey's expression cleared. Then he laughed. "It's well worth it. If celibacy were all it took to win a witch's favor, the knights under Gerard and Roger would be falling over themselves to take the vow."

---

They rendezvoused with Godfrey's Kurdish cavalry at Ibelin.

It was not unheard-of for a Crusader lord to command infidel horsemen. What was unusual was their number. Forty heavy cavalry in dark lamellar and scale armor, fully equipped, assembled in a village outside the settlement.

"May the Holy Fire burn eternal, my lord."

The lead rider urged his horse toward Lothar, pressed his right hand to his shoulder, and bowed his head. "I am Abraham Abdullah. We may speak in the Gaulish tongue."

Gaulish and Latin were the court languages most widely used across Western Europe. Lothar spoke Gaulish and Germanic. His brother Otto, cleverer, had also mastered Latin.

"May the Holy Fire burn eternal."

Lothar mimicked the gesture: hand to shoulder, head bowed. "Baron Godfrey of Ibelin has explained the mission?"

"He has."

Abdullah gestured. Two riders approached and handed Lothar a full set of Fire-Worshipper-style armor, neatly folded.

Lothar and Hans removed their helmets and surcoats, donned the new gear, and wrapped their heads in scarves and robes. Every Western ornament was stripped from the horses and stowed away.

"May the Holy Fire burn eternal," Lothar repeated in the other man's tongue, repeating the salute.

Abdullah smiled. "Your hand is a little too high, my lord. Like this. And use your right hand, not your left."

"In our custom, the left hand is used for unclean tasks: wiping away filth and the like. To offer a salute with it is a grave insult. It will anger any man who sees it."

Lothar tried the gesture again. "Thank you for the lesson. I'd like to learn your language while we travel."

"I would gladly teach you, but I must apologize. Kurdish, Persian, Arabic, and the Turkic languages are all different tongues. I speak only Kurdish and Gaulish."

"Kurdish, then."

The Kurds were one of the most widespread peoples of Western Asia, second only to the Persians, Arabs, and Turks in number.

"Stow your gear. We sail at once."

Lothar gave the order.