Michael felt his blood run cold. "Stephen! You're not thinking of
betraying---"
"Of course not. If I wanted to turn you in, and try to reach Earl
Arthur, I'd have only to raise my voice and we'd be surrounded at
once. I will admit that I'd thought of it. But your way has certain. .
. advantages."
In a brief moment of unobscured moonlight, Michael saw that the
Englishman's face had resumed something of its domineering cruelty,
and realized that the tables had been turned once more. But there was
something else at work there as well, some deep inner conflict, not
yet resolved. And he knew, for all the anger and fear that now welled
up in him..... He still needed this man's help. He forced his hand to
loose its grip on the pistol, and his voice to remain calm.
"What is your plan?" he said, as evenly as he could.
"To walk right past them---myself on horseback, you tied to a length
of rope behind. I'll say I've caught another prisoner, and am taking
him to my father for interrogation."
Again Michael forced back his emotions. "And what if one of those men
knows of the rift between you, or Ballard is there himself?"
"Those `men'," said Stephen with disdain, "are the King's soldiers.
They know nothing of the inner machinations. The ones who do my
father's dirty work---those either cruel enough to like it, or weak
enough to be bullied into submission---are stationed with him in the
Castle. And if Ballard should be there, I will have him arrested and
put in chains. You forget that in the King's army I am still a
Captain." Stephen paused. "And if you have a better plan, Highlander,
I should very much like to hear it."
Again Michael felt the sense of helpless inevitability that had
assailed him as the women were taken from him. He railed against it,
cursed it, hated himself for beginning to yield. Fate's endless trap
opened yet again before him. . .to what end
?
But no matter how he searched and fought, he could see no other way.
This time, at least, he would force one concession. He drew out the
pistol, and rested its cold muzzle against the Englishman's chest.
"Purceville. Will you swear to me now, on your life, that no matter
what happens to me, you will get Mary out and away from here? I mean
just and only that. In the eyes of God, and on peril of your life, do
you so swear?"