“Yes—to the death, so that you may live.”
She held out her hands to him, her eyes shining.
“Martin Valliant, let us be comrades, let us swear troth to each other.”
But he looked at her hands as though he dared not touch them.
“I am a priest no more,” he said, “but an outlaw. So be it, though God has dealt strangely with me.”
He turned his head and looked at the great cross.
“The shape of a sword!”
“There is a noble spirit in it, Martin Valliant.”
“It shall be a cross—and a sword,” he answered her.