But to send his bullets smashing into the body of a woman who might be Ann.... Sweat trickled down the chiseled furrows of his cheeks. Beside him, the little squire was a study in still life, poised with one foot forward, the white tunic still draped on his outstretched arm.
"Sir Jacques, we are waiting for your reply," prompted the cold voice of the Chief Justice.
A turbulent voice within Jacques urged him to turn his back on all of them, but prudence counseled that he play for time. From Sir Mallory's oily manner, he could very well have made up and circulated the gossip about his supposed past relationship with this condemned woman. It might be wise to wait a bit before making a decision that could be so final.
Jacques bowed, and said hoarsely.
"I await the orders of the Court, Your Highness."
If the Chief Justice noted that Jacques said "await" instead of the more correct "will obey", he gave no sign of it.
"Very well," he said. "Court will convene in five minutes." He turned so abruptly that he almost bumped into the Bailiff, who was making a poor effort to cover his disappointment.
Sir Mallory smiled at Jacques, and said warmly:
"The FBIT is proud of you!"
When they had left the room, the still frightened squire stuttered: