cocked and ready. Nothing. Heart pounding, he advanced slowly down the
passage, toward the indirect glow of the hearth. He turned the
corner.....
Purceville sat motionless facing him, a drained goblet in his hand. He
evinced no surprise. Apparently his senses were sharper than the
Highlander guessed.
"I will do it," he said evenly. "On the condition that I am never
again left weaponless in an indefensible corner."
Michael came closer, unbuckled the dead officer's sword. He handed it
to Purceville in the English fashion, then straightened and looked him
square in the eye.
"I ask for no greater promise," he said, "than that you do what you
know is right. Now, if you will take it, here is my hand."
The Englishman took it in his own, with the same measured gaze that he
had worn since the Highlander's return. There was no time to wonder at
the thoughts that lay behind it.
"Come on," said Michael. "We've got a long ride ahead of us."
"Where are we going?"
"To find a more defensible corner."