Granted, a single shot would profit him very little in the face of an ambush of determined highway robbers, but there was always the hope that these were just a ragtag bunch of cowards who had never seen a firearm in their lives… God willing.
His horse turned a corner of the decaying track, which took him into an open rotunda, surrounded by high walls of crumbling stone (which might once have supported some long-lost roof), with a bowl-shaped, partially-paved floor that curved downwards to a wide altar of solid, unwrought stone. Upon this slab lay the most beautiful woman Alexandru had ever seen, though in her pallor and perfection she might just as easily have been an ivory statue, draped in a sheer white gown.