The column of riders galloped across the desert like shadows in the night, the hooves of their mounts throwing up dust and gravel in their wake. Above them, the moon shone down, turning the sand dunes and rocky hillocks silver with its light. Richard of Warwick was at the rear of the column. It was not the first time that he had enjoyed a moonlit ride - but it was the first time that he had done such a thing here. He had often ridden around his family's estate in the county of Warwickshire, dodging trees and jumping his mount King over fallen logs, in pursuit of nocturnal game. There the nights were cool and moist and dark. Here ... here was different.

Richard had learnt that the Holy Land was a land of extremes. If the days were hotter than the height of summer in his native England, the nights in the Holy Land were even colder. The air was dry and cold, and seemed to be charged with some strange energy; the land was open and rolling, and it was easy to gallop in a straight line as far and as fast as he desired. If only there was time to stop and enjoy the night, Richard would have been glad to allow himself this indulgence. Tonight, however, was not the time. The Golden Knight had volunteered to ride at the rear of the column, to watch for pursuers and to give warning if necessary. His friend and brother knight, John of Chester, had taken the lead. He had led many patrols in this quarter of the desert and knew the dunes and wadis well.

The two knights knew their strengths, and used them wisely.

In the centre of the column, guarded both front and rear, were Sir Charles of Arringford and his wife, the Lady Elizabeth. They had been kidnapped by raiders under the leadership of a man called Benedict and held for ransom. Now they were enjoying their freedom. Sir Charles had sworn that he and his wife would not lose their liberty again - not to a dastard like Benedict - even if it meant their lives. But for now, the couple rode together.

At the head of the column, John of Chester felt his steed labouring under him. They had ridden hard to get here. Under better circumstances it would have taken them hours to cover the distance they had ridden. However, in the haste of their departure from Benedict's desert fortress, it had taken them no more than one hour to reach this point. It would be risky to halt and to rest their horses here, but if they did not stop then their mounts would falter and leave them at the mercy of anyone hunting for them. John reined in his horse, bringing it to a trot and finally to a halt. The rest of the column followed suit, and for a moment they milled around.

Richard guided his horse next to John's. "Have you noticed something?"

John shook his head. "No. But if the other horses are as tired as mine, then a few minutes of rest will be good for them. Have you noticed anyone following us?"

"You mean Lord Benedict and his men? No. There is no sign of them. I think we have outdistanced them for now. But we have left a trail behind us that even a blind beggar could follow."

"Ha." John took a deep breath of the cold, night air. "Well, that is as may be. But, I am sure that we can change the direction of our ride." He pointed up to the sky, his finger tracing the lines of the constellations above. "I suggest that we head south for another league or so. Then we can make our way directly back to the camp. We should be there by dawn, yes?"

"If you say so," Richard replied. "But, I think I shall ride back a little way to make sure that we are not caught unawares. King," and with this the Golden Knight patted the neck of his charger, "still has plenty of energy. At least enough to go another quarter of a mile."

John thought about this for a moment. "A sound plan, Richard. But, take one of the patrol with you. Aelfred is a good and reliable man. He can be your eyes and ears."

"And I can send him back to you if there is trouble, yes?"

John laughed. "Do not be long, then. I would not want you to be lost here."

Richard and Aelfred trotted away from the party, making their way back along the tracks in the sand. Then they guided their horses towards one of the dunes. "We should be able to see some distance," Richard explained to the sergeant.

"And back as well," Aelfred replied. "Very well, sire."

Indeed, from the summit of the dune chosen by Richard, the two men were able to see the desert for miles around them. Together they peered into the darkness and listened for any sign of Benedict and his men. Of the two, it was Aelfred who first heard the approach of their pursuers. "Do you hear that, my lord?" he whispered.

Richard cocked his head. There, just within the bounds of his hearing, was an irregular drumming. As he listened more, he could make out the rhythm of hoofbeats - many of them. They seemed to rise and fade in volume. "I do," he said. "Can you make out where they are coming from?" Again, the two men stared into the darkness.

If Aelfred had the better hearing of the two, Richard had the sharper eyes. There, only a couple of miles back along the way they had come, Richard saw a line of shadows slipping between the dunes. The light of the moon reflected off the harnesses of their horses, like so many shooting stars streaking through the Milky Way. And, at the head of the raiders, was a figure that glowed blood-red in the moonlight. Richard turned to Aelfred. "Go and warn the others that they must leave."

"And you, my lord?" Aelfred asked.

Richard smiled. "Tell my lord Chester that I shall follow on. But first I intend to gain some time for them. Go - now! Do not waste that which I intend to win."

"May God be with you!" Aelfred raised his sword in salute, dug his heels into the flank of his horse, and urged it away.