His face was stern, the deep blue-violet eyes cold, and yet there was something in his face that Duncan could read to be satisfaction rather than enmity, almost as though he were putting on an act for the benefit of the guards.

Clearing his throat, Duncan attempted to sit upright but almost had to give it up until Arilan signed for the guards to allow it. Duncan slowly drew himself to a sitting position on the corridor floor, two of the guards retaining control of his wrists and another continuing to pin his legs. They were taking no chances. Beside him, Morgan, too, was permitted to slowly wriggle upright, similarly restrained.

“Your Excellency, we crave your pardon for the manner of our coming,” Duncan said, “but we had to see you. We have come to give ourselves into your authority. If we have acted wrongly, either now or in the past, we beg to be shown our errors and forgiven. If we have been falsely accused, we hope for the opportunity to show that to you, also.”

Several of the guards looked at him sharply as the statement registered, but Arilan seemed implacable. His gaze shifted from Duncan to Morgan and back again. Then he turned and pushed the double doors apart, standing aside in the doorway to face the guards once more.

“Bring them inside and then leave us, please. Bishop Cardiel and I will hear what they have to say.”

“But, Your Excellency, these men are outlaws, dangerous, damned by your own decree. They destroyed Saint Torin’s, they killed—”

“I know what they have done,” Arilan said, “and I am perfectly aware that they are outlaws. Now, do as I say. You may bind them, if it will ease your fears.”

“Very well, Excellency.”

As the soldiers gingerly pulled the two captives to their feet, several brought forth strips of rawhide and bound their hands tightly in front of them. Cardiel watched silently, following Arilan’s lead as his colleague moved back into the room. The priest who had answered the door hurried to pull two heavy chairs away from the fireplace to face into the room. Then, as the guards ushered their prisoners into the room, nervously glancing at Arilan for guidance, the priest stole a covert look at Duncan. Father Hugh de Berry and Father Duncan McLain had been friends since boyhood, seminarians together, ordained on the same day; but he bowed his head in dismay, sick at heart, as Duncan glanced in his direction and attempted a smile of reassurance. Only God knew what the fates now had in store for the man he had thought he knew.

Arilan crossed briskly to one of the chairs and sat, waving dismissal to his secretary and the guards. Father Hugh started to withdraw immediately, but several of the guards hesitated around the doorway. Cardiel, who had lingered nearer the doors, reassured the men with the promise that they might remain on guard outside, and that he would call them if there was any need. He stood adamant until the last one had left the room, then closed the doors securely and locked them. As he took his place in the chair beside Arilan, the younger bishop made a bridge of his fingers and sat looking over them at the prisoners for a long time. Finally, he spoke.