Yes.
The old man meant that much to me.
Reaching out with a hand I gently touched the old man’s cheek and wiped away a large track of tears flowing like a river from his eyes.
“There is no shame in this, father. You had to do what was necessary in order to save the innocent. Is that not what our vows tell us we must do? Go. Go and lead them to safety. Take them to the St. Rolla.”
“But…”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head gently and smiling, “have faith in those who have always had faith in you. All will be well, father. All will be well.”
The old man’s eyes shot up and stared into mine. He looked at me silently for a few seconds and eventually nodded. A grin almost shot across his crag lined, weather-beaten old face. But he caught himself quickly and again painted the picture of an o
