IT WAS QUIET, like any sleeping town. The dark riders brought their panting mounts close to the edge. A few thatched cottages with post fences, animals sleeping in their sheds. That was all there was.

This would be easy, mere sport for such men. The leader sniffed, shutting his visor. His helmet bore a black Byzantine cross. He had chosen only men who killed for pleasure, who hunted for spoils as others hunted for meat. They wore only the darkened armor of battle, no crests, visors down. No one knew who they were. They strapped on their weapons-war swords, axes, and maces. They looked at him, eager, thirsty, ready.

Have your fun, Black Cross said, a bit of laughter coming through his command. Just let us not forget why we are here. Whoever finds the relic will be a rich man. Now, ride!

The night was split asunder by the explosion of charging hooves.

The clang of a warning bell sounded. Too late! The first thatched dwellings went up in flames. The sleeping town came alive.

Women screamed and ran to cover their children. Aroused townspeople struggled out of their homes to protect themselves, only to be struck down by swords or trampled in the melee as the riders stormed by.

These pathetic peasants, Black Cross mused, they run up and die like swatted flies, protecting their tiny clumps of shit. They think we are invading soldiers, come to take their cattle and steal their bitches. They do not even know why we are here!

Fire and mayhem raging, Black Cross trotted unconcerned through the street to the large stone home, the best in the town. Five of his riders followed.

Panicked sounds came from inside-a woman screaming, children being roused from bed.

Break it in. Black Cross nodded to a cohort. A single ax blow shattered the door.

A man in a white-and-blue shawl appeared in the doorway. He had long gray hair and a heavy beard. What do you want here? the cowering man asked. We've done no harm.

Get out of my way, Jew, Black Cross barked.

The man's wife, in a wool sleeping shawl, rushed out and spoke fearlessly. We are peaceful people, she said. We will give you whatever you want.

Black Cross pinned the woman by her throat to the wall. Show me where it is, he demanded. Show me, if you have any regard for his life.

Please, the money is in the courtyard, the panicked husband whined. In a chest under the cistern. Have it. Take what you will.

Search the house, Black Cross screamed at his men. Rip down every wall. Just find it.

But the money... I told you...

We did not come for money, filth. Black Cross leered. We are here for the jewel. Christendom's precious relic.

His henchmen stormed inside. They found an old man, his arms around two cowering children. A boy, perhaps sixteen, already with the locks of his race, and a girl, ma............