Part 25 (1/2)

Walking stiffly now in the early morning cold, he approached the Englishman. Stephen heard him, but did not turn. One last ashen limb projected above the rising level of earth in the hole. He began to hurry himself to cover it, then stopped.

”Stephen? What are you doing?”

Purceville straightened. He said, without turning. ”I am burying the mother of my sister, and the woman who cared for me as a child.”

At that moment a flock of ravens spoke behind, an evil sound that seemed to mesh the rising web of horror about him. Turning toward the summons Michael saw the tree, as a gust of wind shook its blackened limbs in a dull rattle of death. Then whirling back in shock, he saw the bones.

”What happened here?” he cried. ”What have you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds done!

In a flash it came to him: the party of hors.e.m.e.n riding hard from the west, the soot-marks of their boots upon the threshold. Anger and hatred overwhelmed him, as before he knew what had happened the pistol was in his hand, and pointed at the back of his enemy.

But then Stephen turned to face him, and he lowered it again. Because there were standing tears, and real shame in the Englishman's eyes.

”It's not what you think,” he said weakly, head down. ”What we did, was bad enough. But she was dead when we arrived.” He put one sleeve to his eyes. ”She left a note, which I gave to Mary, asking her to forgive..... My father. . .burned her body as a warning, and to frighten his own men into action. I hate what we've become. I hate it.”

... ”I believe you,” said Michael slowly. ”And I'm sorry.”

”Please don't say any more.”

The Highlander started to walk away. ”No, wait,” said Stephen. ”I want you..... I want someone to hear this.”

”I'm listening.”

Purceville s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably, resisting to the end. Then spoke what he truly felt: the only eulogy the woman would ever have.

”She was my governess, and treated me kindly. But I never told her. .

.that I loved her, too.” He started to lower his head in despair, then raised it again in sudden resolution. ”We've got to get Mary out, and away from all of this. She deserves so much more, than this.”

”We will, Stephen. Tonight.” A pause. ”Would you like me to help you?”

”No. It is my responsibility. Mine.....” The realization stunned him.

He fought back a sob. ”Dear G.o.d, I am weary of graves.”

”Then let us vow to do the work before us well,” said Michael, ”that there may be no more.”

”You don't understand,” said Stephen. ”If we rescue my sister and her guardian, and you take them away from here, your fight is ended. But mine is just begun.”

Michael wrestled with his own emotions, then came up and put a hand on the troubled man's shoulder.

”You've made a good beginning, my friend. You've looked the Devil in the eye.”

Purceville met his penetrating gaze, puzzled that these simple words should mean so much. And in that moment this stranger was so like Mary---the way he spoke, the way he knew him so well.....

”Stephen. Every man chooses his own time to stop running. And it's only when you turn, that you find out what you have inside you. I cannot lie, and say it will be easy, or that you will triumph simply because your cause is just. The truth is that it's much harder to be a good man than a bad one, to do what's right, than to be selfish and afraid. I've fought the Devil, in my way, for thirty years, and come to no reward. On the contrary, my life has been a constant struggle.

”And tonight,” he went on, ”I face the battle of my life. Nothing else matters, in all the world. And so help me, Stephen, I'm terrified. I speak of faith, and yet I do not feel it. Getting Mary safely away is everything. Everything . If I fail, or injure her in the attempt, my own life is less than meaningless. My life must end.....”

Then it was he who stiffened in defiance. ”But G.o.d or no G.o.d, I will have her out. With all my soul I swear it. She will be freed.”

Stephen studied him, both stirred and bewildered. ”Who are you?”