No, do you follow me."
So on they glided down the ancient, darksome stairway, where owls hooted
and bats flittered in their faces. Now they were at the last flight,
which descended to a little recess set at right angles to the steps and
flush with the floor of the basement, for once the door of the stairway
had opened here. Thus a person standing on the last stair could not be
seen by any in the tower. They reached the step and halted. Then very
stealthily Nehushta went on to her hands and knees and thrust her head
forward so that she could look into the base of the tower. It was dark
as the grave, only a faint gleam of starlight reflected from his armour
showed where Marcus lay, so close that she could touch him with her
hand. Also almost opposite to her the gloom was relieved by a patch
of faint grey light. Here it was that the wall had been broken in, for
Nehushta could see the shadows of the sentries crossing and recrossing
before the ragged opening.
She leant yet lower towards Marcus and listened. He was not dead, for he
breathed. More, she heard him stir his hand and thought that she could
see it move upwards towards his wounded head. Then she drew back.
"Lady," she whispered, "he lives, and I think he is awake.
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