"Of course." With biting sarcasm.
"I accepted the order in an attempt to free myself of Don Miguel's power. I had every intention of swearing allegiance to you, and—"
It seemed to Kesley that some ugly thought had passed at that moment through Winslow's mind and, disconcerted, he halted. Then, recovering, he continued: "On the other hand, Archbishop Santana came here with the definite intent of doing away with you.
"However, this morning a courier arrived from Miguel, instructing our retinue to set upon us and kill us."
"A noteworthy aim," Winslow said. "One which, I take it, was only partially accomplished."
"Yes."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"I want to expose Miguel's treachery. I want to make everything clear to you, show you what's been going on." Kesley spoke with desperate sincerity now.
Winslow laughed suddenly, his entire body quivering. "This is very funny," he said, when he had subsided. "Miguel sending men here to assassinate me—and then having his own assassins assassinated!" He narrowed his eyes and peered curiously at Kesley. "Why do you suppose he would do a thing like that?" he asked.
Kesley moistened cracking lips. "It is not for me to understand the ways of Dukes, Sire."