Everard nodded. "Things happened too fast. We didn't expect we'd find him here."
"No. He . . . returned. To me. He said he could not leave me alone to face . . . whatever was on the way. I hoped . . . against hope . . . I could talk him into fleeing . . . but he wouldn't desert his brothers, either—"
"He was a man," Everard said. "At least he—I'm not cheerful about this, no, but at least he's been spared torture." Bones crushed in the boot or hauled apart on the rack or the wheel. Flesh pulled off them by red-hot pincers. Clamps on the testicles. Needles—Never mind. Governments are ingenious. If, afterward, Fulk had recanted the confession twisted out of him and denied the dishonor in it, they would have burned him alive.
Marlow nodded. "That's some consolation, isn't it?" He leaned over his friend. "Adieu, Fulk de Buchy, Knight of the Temple." Reaching out, he closed the eyes and held the jaw shut while he kissed the lips.
Everard helped him rise, for the floor had gone slippery.
"I'll cooperate fully and freely," Marlow said, flat-voiced, "and I won't ask for clemency."
"You did get reckless," Everard answered, "and it'll lead to the fleet escaping. But that was 'always' in history. It just turns out that this was how it came about. Otherwise, no harm done." Aside from a death. But all men die. "I don't think the Patrol court will be too hard on you. No more field assignments, obviously. However, you can still do useful work in compilation and analysis, and that way redeem yourself."
How smug it sounded.
Well, love doesn't excuse everything by a long shot. But is love in itself ever a sin?
The men were descending with their plunder. "Let's go," Everard said, and led them away.
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Time Patrol Page 64
