"Well. Leaving `bloody savages' aside for the moment, perhaps we are not as far apart as I feared." He lowered the weapon, leaned back against the tree. "Calm yourself, and perhaps we can talk as reasonable men. "All right," he continued. "Here, then, is what I'm offering. Your freedom, in exchange for the safe deliverance of Mary and the widow Scott. In this you may serve me as ally, or hostage. The choice is yours." "If you want them back," said Stephen, "then let me go now. Give me Stubb's horse, and a weapon to protect myself. All I have to do is reach Earl Arthur, and tell him my story. My father will lose all power over their fate, and a good many other things as well." "You will forgive me," replied Michael, "if I am not as confident of English justice as you are. After they are rescued, you may do what you like to hurt your father. Not before." Stephen looked hard at him, first in anger, then in disbelief. "You're not serious. You can't expect to win them from the Tower by stealth? It's over two hundred feet high. Inside the castle are scores of armed soldiers, with a thousand more garrisoned less than two miles away. We don't even know which cell they're in, or if they're still together." Michael grimaced, releasing a heavy breath. Though in his heart he knew the grim realities, to hear them spoken was still disquieting. "I do not say it will be easy, or without danger. I only know that between you and I. . .we've got to find a way." He stiffened. "Look at me, Purceville, square in the eye. As you love your sister, and on your word as an Englishman, will you help me to free her? For I tell you, in the eyes of God we can do no less." Stephen did not answer at first, but stood returning his captor's firm gaze. "Why do you ask me to swear as an Englishman? What makes you think any promise will bind me?" "Because I know that's important to you. And because I believe that in spite of yourself, deep down, you are an honorable man." The other turned away. "Listen to me. Sooner or later you've got to choose between good and evil, right and wrong. There's no middle ground. And the line between them's got nothing to do with country, or birthright, but the way a man acts in the role, the place he's been given. I'm asking you now, not as a Highlander to a Red-coat, a commoner to nobility, or any other distinction you care to draw. I'm asking you as a man, to another man. Won't you help me, in what we both know is right?" "You're very naive." "No. God damn it, Purceville, listen! No man has greater reason to hate and mistrust than I have. You've taken everything: my youth, my health, my home, and now the only ones I love in all the world. But I refuse to hate you. I refuse to stoop so low, to believe in so little, to sell my honor and my hope for that bastard emotion. There is no greater defiance than that.