It was a sore trial to have ridden so far, and lived in
darkness so long, only to arrive weary and unsure at the time of
greatest need, when courage and decisive action were most critical.
As he looked down at the garrison, and on to the Castle in the
distance, he felt again his own frailty and insignificance. Rustic
proverbs about weakness overcoming strength, and water (in time)
eroding the hardest stone, brought little comfort. For Mary and his
mother were imprisoned by the hands of men. Proverbs and faith would
not free them, only active human resistance. His heart beat heavily
against the cold ground. He knew what he must do.
"How do we slip past them?" he asked Purceville.
It was a formidable question. For behind the stables the stone rose
sheer, a bony ridge forming one margin of the high peninsula on which
the Castle was set: a long and difficult climb at best, to an
uncertain end. It also forced them to leave the horse behind, and to
abandon all thoughts of mounted escape.
To the fore of the compound as well, there seemed little hope of
stealth.
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