“It is all bloody.”
“What matter. It is but a christening.”
He drew the sword from its scabbard and gave it into her hands. And Mellis kissed the cross of the hilt, and held it for him to take.
“That is a second sacrament,” he said; “I shall need no other crucifix.”
They entered Woodmere, and Martin raised the bridge and closed the gate.
“You took a prisoner.”
He remembered Swartz, brain-sick and groaning.
“Their captain! A good fighter—and a generous. I must wash his wound; and if I could find linen——”
“You shall have linen. I love that softness in you, comrade; good soldiers are made so.”
She turned aside through the postern into the garden, and Martin went to look at Swartz. He was sitting up, holding his head between his hands, but the blood had ceased flowing.