"Cannot leave?" I stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He glanced furtively towards the overseer, who still waved his arms in protest, crying his outrage at our uncaring treatment of him. Putting his mouth to my ear, Harald whispered a terse explanation.
"What?" I wondered in disbelief. "You cannot mean it."
He nodded solemnly. "We did not know you would return today," he said.
"I am sorry," I told him flatly. "There is no time."
Folding his arms across his chest, the king shook his head solemnly. "Nay."
Faysal, seeing my hesitation, hastened to my side. "We must go."
"There is a small matter yet to be resolved," I muttered, staring hard at the king, who remained adamant.
Faysal made to protest, then glanced at the Danish king, his face set in a stubborn frown. "Resolve it quickly, my friend," he relented. "I fear your decree will not detain this greedy fellow very much longer."
I looked to the slave master, who was now urgently gesturing for several of his guards to join him. There was nothing for it but to seize the lion by his beard, as it were. "Come with me," I ordered Faysal, "and bring two warriors."
Marching directly to the angry overseer, I faced him squarely. "We are leaving," I announced, "but not before the chains are removed and we have secured the bones of our brothers."
"Bones!" he brayed in disbelief. "There was nothing said about bones!"
"Listen to me well," I told him darkly as Faysal and the two rafiq came to stand behind me, "your worthless life hangs by a thread over the pit, but hear me out and you may yet save yourself."
The slave master subsided, grumbling and cursing.
"I was a slave here," I began. "On the day I left this place, two of my friends and I were to have been executed." The slow dawn of recognition broke over the man's fleshy face. "Faysal stopped the execution, but not before you killed an old man who gave himself in my place. Do you remember?"
An expression akin to fear crept into the overseer's sun-blasted features. Yes, he remembered it all now.
"Answer me!"
His eyes flicked to the two warriors whose hands moved towards the hilts of their swords. "It is possible," he allowed.
"That man was a priest of God," I said. "He was a holy man, and he was my friend. I will not allow his bones to remain in this accursed place. Therefore, we will take them with us." The overseer gaped, but did not disagree. "Now then, tell me where his body is buried."
"We do not bury slaves," the overseer informed me with smug self-assurance. "We throw their corpses to the dogs."
"If that is the way of it," I replied, my voice falling to what I hoped was a withering whisper, "you must pray to whatever god will hear you that we find his remains." I let him imagine the worst. "Show me where his body was thrown."
The overseer pointed to one of the guards. "That one knows. He will show you."
Turning to Faysal, I said, "See that the leg irons are removed, and then take the overseer into his house and wait there with him until I return."
As soon as the first slaves were freed from their leg chains, we set off: Harald, Brynach, Gunnar, Hnefi, no fewer than six other Sea Wolves, the guard and myself. Once out of sight of the yard, I took Harald by the arm, "We will take our time, but you must hurry." I told him then what I had in mind and ordered him to do the same. "Do you understand?"
Nodding, the jarl and his men hobbled off up the long slope in the direction of the mines, walking in a laborious, rolling amble; they had grown unused to moving their feet so freely. The guard watched them suspiciously. "Where are they going?" he demanded.
"Show us where you put the body of my friend," I commanded.
The guard pointed at the retreating Danes, and prepared to renew his demand.
"Now!" I told him. "I grow weary of your insolence."
The guard clamped his mouth shut, turned on his heel and led us in the opposite direction. We walked to a place behind the settlement and he showed me a small ravine, little more than a dry ditch choked with the tough little desert thorn bushes and twisted, stunted cacti. Judging from the bits of broken pottery and the stink, I guessed the refuse of the settlement was pitched down the slope. "There," the guard muttered with a downward jerk of his chin.
"We will begin searching," I told him. "Bring us a robe."
As the guard sauntered away, I told Brynach what I had in mind to do. He commended my thoughtfulness, saying, "Ah, a man after my own heart. May your compassion be rewarded forever." Then, raising his shaggy head, he said, "And Joseph made the Sons of Israel swear an oath and said, 'God will surely come to your aid, and you must carry my bones from this place.'" So Joseph's sons took up his bones and bore them out of Egypt."
