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generally began at dusk and continued through the night, finishing at dawn when everyone went out to witness the breaking of the new day and sing their brother and fellow pilgrim on his journey home.
    Cait felt sorry that her father had not been able to receive such a funeral; it was his due. Still, she meant to do what she could.
    â€œWhat is in the box?” asked Alethea. “Strange they should give us a gift.”
    â€œIt is not a gift,” said Cait quietly.
    â€œWhat is it then?” The younger woman snatched away the box which Cait held reverently in her hands. She turned it this way and that, looking for a way to open it.
    â€œThea, please.” Cait put her hand on her sister’s arm and turned her around. She held out her hand for the box. “Give it to me now.”
    â€œNo,” the young woman sulked, jerking the box away. “Not until you tell me what’s inside.”
    Cait frowned, regarding her sister with sour disapproval. “It is Papa’s heart,” she said softly.
    â€œWhat!” shrieked Alethea. Cait held out her hand, and Thea shoved the box into it with disgust. “You had them cut out his heart?” she cried, tears welling at once. “You cruel and thoughtless creature! How could you do such a thing!”
    â€œIt was his dying wish,” Caitríona explained simply. “He wanted his heart to be buried in the church at home.”
    Alethea put her face in her hands and wept. Despite heraggravation, Cait felt sorry for her sister—always getting things twisted around and making herself look foolish. She passed the box to Haemur who was standing awkwardly to one side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in embarrassment.
    â€œTake this back to the ship, put it in a safe place, and wait for us there,” Cait told the grizzled old pilot. “Remember what I told you. It will likely be very late when we return, so keep a light burning at the prow.”
    Haemur accepted the lead box with a little bow, and said, “As you will, my lady. Return when you like, you will find the ship in order and awaiting your command.”
    Cait smiled; the old seaman seemed to be going out of his way to demonstrate his acceptance of her as the new master of the vessel. For that, she was grateful. She thanked him and sent him on his way, and then she had begun her work of revenge.
    The previous day, the consul had told her that de Bracineaux was a friend of King Baldwin and a guest of the emperor. To find the Templar commander all she had to do was discover which of the many imperial residences was being used by the friends, relations, and entourage of the newly wedded couple. With Thea in tow, she had then begun the tedious and tiring inquiry—a delicate investigation which necessitated shrewdness, tact, and a finely honed sense of diplomacy—particular skills which Cait possessed in fair measure, when she cared to use them.
    It was late when they left the Magnaura Palace precinct where Cait had at last been able to tease out the information she required. They had stopped to buy a little fruit and bread and cheese at a market they happened by, and then continued on their way to the Blachernae Palace where the members of the royal wedding entourage were staying as guests of Emperor Manuel Comnenus.
    Now, as evening descended around them, Cait settled back in the chair, and allowed herself to think about what lay ahead. She closed her eyes and rehearsed the decisive moment in her mind, trying to imagine it down to the smallest detail so that she should not be taken by surprise.
    They were closer to the palace than they knew, and soon Philippianous halted the chair and pointed to an enormous square structure in brick and stone rising from behind a stout wall. “The palace, my lady,” he said, as if he were the proud owner.
    Caitríona observed the flat, undistinguished façade, with its alternating colors of brickwork,