One and all they stared at the man in black and silver, moistening their lips, but saying no word. We were five armed and desperate men; they were fourscore. We might send many to death before us, but at the last we ourselves must die, — we and those aboard the helpless ship.

In the moment’s respite I bowed my head and whispered to the King’s ward.

“I had rather it were your sword,” she answered in a low voice, in which there was neither dread nor sorrow. “You must not let it grieve you; it will be added to your good deeds. And it is I that should ask your forgiveness, not you mine.”

Though there was scant time for such dalliance, I bent my knee and rested my forehead upon her hand. As I rose, the minister’s hand touched my shoulder and the voice spoke in my ear.