He heard the rush of compressed air and saw Doyle's harpoon strike her just above the ear, saw the gun fall from her hand and, as it hit the floor, fire off a clatter of rounds that jerked him back to reality.
"You...you..." Doyle tried to say something to him, his eyes already moistening.
Cowley heard the crackle of shots, the sudden silence, and then was on his feet, gun in hand, running towards the castle. Behind him the other waiting men were starting to run in too. Ordrrs were being barked now, and lights started to snap on again, to bathe the castle in a pale white light. Cowley reached the moat and stood there, listening to the screech of a winch. The drawbridge began to move, to descend, and Doyle and Bodie were revealed.
Bodie was first on to the lowered bridge. He looked at Cowley and then: "No casualties on our side."
Doyle steped up alongside him. "No?" he said ironicalky. He walked past Cowley and away. Bodie stood and watched him go, the suddenly followed.
Cowley turned to watch them. They were too far away to hear what was said, but he saw Bodie grip Doyle's shoulder and Doyle shake him off. He saw them stop and face each other, and talk, and then finally turn to move on again. Together this time. In step.
Cowley glanced at the sergeant. "Do you know," he said, "I think we may have found ourselves a good team there."
The sergeant frowned. "Looked to me like they were ready to slug each other."
Cowley's eyes twinkled. "A lot of good marriages began that way."