It did not take the two travellers long to find themselves accommodation. There were many khans in the city of Damascus - buildings devoted to providing lodgings for the merchants who came to that great city. Richard and Emrys were barely noticed among the other itinerants who had chosen to stay there. They had paid a few coins for the privilege of private rooms adjoining each other, somewhere towards the top of the building. Emrys had felt that they were unlikely to be disturbed there. "The less who question us, the easier it will be," the scholar had explained. After washing the dust of the trail from their clothes and bodies, Emrys and Richard settled down to a simple meal of spiced lamb and baked fruits, accompanied by a kettle of mint tea.

As the pair ate, Richard of Warwick asked the question that had been bothering him all through their journey from Tyre. "You say we are looking for the True Cross. How will we find it? There is a whole city here to investigate. It could be hidden anywhere. Indeed - how are you sure that it is here?"

Emrys tore a strip from one of the flatbreads that had come with their meal, then wrapped it around a morsel of lamb. "I know that it is not in the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem."

"Then why would it be here?"

Emrys gestured towards the city around them. "Damascus is one of Salah ad-Din's strongholds. Indeed, it is the closest one to Jerusalem."

"But why not leave the True Cross in Jerusalem? Indeed, why not destroy it? That is what I would do if I was in Salah ad-Din's place?"

"And you are meant to be the flower of English knighthood?" Emrys sighed and wiped his hands on a cloth draped over his left shoulder. "Salah ad-Din has declared that all religions must be shown respect - Hebrew, Christian and Muslim alike. After all, they all claim to worship the same deity. And Jesus is respected as a prophet by the Muslims. To destroy a relic associated with Him would be an unthinkable blasphemy."

The Golden Knight nodded. "That much I understand. But why not leave the True Cross in Jerusalem?"

Emrys sighed in exasperation. "Because your King Richard and his armies are sworn to reach Jerusalem and to liberate it from Salah ad-Din's forces. You saw the damage that was done to Acre, yes? Imagine what will happen when Guy of Montferrat tries to take back the city that was the seat of his power?" Emrys shook his head. "If I cared about something, then I too would remove it from the place of a great battle."

"I think I understand." Richard poured a glass of bright green, steaming mint tea for himself. "And so you think the True Cross is here."

"More than think. I know it."

"And how will we find it, then?"

"Do you think that one such as myself would not know where to find an artefact of such importance? The way has been prepared for a day such as this, by none other than Joseph of Arimathea himself!" Emrys caught sight of the expression on Richard's face and burst out laughing. "You do not believe me? You have heard of the abbey at Glastonbury?"

"Of course. It is one of the great holy sites of England. It is where the White Thorn is."

"And where many of your most holy men and saints have been interred. The ground there has long been held sacred - not only by the English but by those who lived there before. And holy ground is powerful ground. That is why Jospeh of Arimathea chose it to be the first place in England to bring the gospels. And some other things."

With this, Emrys levered himself upright and hobbled, muttering and grumbling, across the room to where he had placed the saddle bags from his ass. Richard watched as the old man rummaged through one of them - the one that he had seemed so protective of at the gates of Tyre - and produced a bundle wrapped in velvet, before returning to the low table he had been sitting at.

"Please," Emrys asked. "If you will clear the dishes so that I may open this and show you." Richard obeyed, placing the platters to one side on the floor. When this had been done, Emrys placed the velvet package in front of him and began to unwrap it.

The Golden Knight watched intently as Emrys untied the leather thong that held the cloth in place, carefully setting it aside. Then the old man peeled back the cloth to reveal a carved wooden box, inlaid with swirling patterns of silver and gold. "Are those magical?" he asked.

"No. They are merely the craftwork of smiths and artisans long since dead. The Keltoi believed that even mundane things should be made with skill and pride. And this is no mundane thing. Behold." Emrys lifted the lid of the box, raising it on its hinges. Inside was what looked like a gnarled twig that had been dipped in silver, pointing up towards the heavens. Richard reached out, curious to touch the strange object and investigate it more closely. Emrys quickly slapped the knight's hand away. "Do not touch! It is a sacred relic!"

"This thing?" Richard almost burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the idea, but the expression on Emrys's face dissuaded him. "A relic of what?" Richard asked more respectfully.

"Not of what. Of whom," the scholar replied. "This is one of the fingers of Joseph of Arimathea himself. It is said that it will point the way to the True Cross - the instrument upon which his son was tortured and died. This is how we shall find the True Cross."