Dark clouds hid the moon as the four knights rode out across desert scrub to the ruined temple in the Judean Hills. A blanket of night lay across the land, dulling all sound but their hoofbeats and a single far-off cry of a night bird. Crusaders had besieged the village that once surrounded the temple, the people slain or forced out under the banner of the scarlet cross. Only shadows remained now and perhaps the restless spirits of those who couldn’t move on, but William de Tracy did not want to think of spirits tonight.
He looked up as a sliver of moonlight pierced the clouds and touched the edge of the ruined temple, turning the rough-hewn stone into the mottled silver of a blade. It had taken much blood and gold to uncover the ancient myth that surrounded this place, and William could
