All was deathly still as they faced one another in silence. Purceville drew a long pistol, and held it at arm's length. Michael was a statue, head down, hands at his sides in resignation. There was the crack of a shot, and again a frozen wail split the night, this time undeniably her own.
Mary sat bolt upright in the bed. She was trembling, and her inner garments clung to her in a cold sweat. Fully awake now, and with the sudden insight brought by waking, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt what she must do. Still fully clothed, she stepped down from the bed and lifted up the mattress.
The manuscript book was there, had been there all the while she slept. The feel of its widow-black cover was cold and forbidding, but there was no longer time for fear or hesitation. She lit a thick tallow candle, and moved with it to the hard, bare table and chair.
Her mother was still nowhere to be seen. She bolted the door from within, then opened the book before her.
Eleven
The two men sat before the roaring fire, smoking contentedly. The prisoner put a hand to his stomach, feeling nourished and filled as he had not been for many months. The room was warm; he was safe for the night, at least. And yet something was troubling him. Nothing to do with the man, or the place. It did not even seem to concern himself. But in some remote corner of his mind there was disquiet, as if someone he cared about was in trouble or in danger. He took another deep puff on the pipe that had been given him, unable to work the thought through.
They had remained thus for some time when at last the old man spoke. From his patient movements and steady gaze throughout, and still more from his present silence, the younger man sensed a profound caution and wisdom. So now that he chose to speak, the prisoner deemed it best to leave his disquiet for a time, to listen or to speak as was asked of him, and to learn from the seasoned veteran what was needful.
“I don’t ask you to tell me your name,” he began. “In truth I’d rather not know it, since what I don’t know I can’t tell. But if there’s some name you would be called, near enough the mark to feel it yours, but wide enough to leave safe your parentage, I’d be pleased to learn it.”
The younger man smiled. “Call me Jamie.”
“Well then, Jamie. For the sake of an old man’s curiosity, if nothing else, won’t you tell me something of yourself? The escape and such, and what your plans are now. Needless to say you’ll sleep in a bed tonight, much better than that old crack in the northern cliffs.”