"Oh!" she cried, startled, and threw herself into my arms. She looked up at me, wildly, frightened.
"It is the trumpets," I said. "They signal the attack."
There were answering trumpets from the walls.
There had been a great, ringing blare of trumpets from outside, perhaps hundreds of them. The response from the wall, in comparison, brace though it might have been, had seemed frail, indeed. When the trumpets had rung out there had been, too, from before the citadel, raised the war cries of thousands of men. These cried, too, had been answered by a ragged cheer from the walls. She looked up at me, half kneeling, half lying in my arms, in the darkness of the cell. A naked woman feels good in one's arms. I wished I owned her. They feel even better when you own them, and they know you own them.
We then heard a dull impact, from a distance.
"What is that?" she asked, alarmed.
There were then two more sounds, much like the first.
"Come here," I said, and pulled her, on her side to the outside wall, and lay in the straw on the floor there. It is safer there, where the floor, like a buttress, reinforces the wall. You are safer there, too, from showering stone, bursting inward.
"It is the artillery," she said.
"Yes," I said.
We could hear, too, from time to time, the sound of the kick and rattle, and vibration of cordage, of a catapult above us, on the walls. They are often roped down. Otherwise they can radically change their position, spinning half about, or even, literally, flinging themselves back off the walkway. They are easier to manage on softer surfaces, where the wheels can be dug in.
"You are covering my body with your own," she said. "Be quiet," I whispered to her.
"You are protecting me," she said. "You are sheltering me. You are a true gentleman! You pretend not to be, but you are a true gentleman! Oh! No! What are you doing? I am on my belly! Only a slave is had in this position! No! Oh! Oh!" "Do you think I am a gentleman?" I inquired.
"No," she said.
"What am I then?" I asked.
"My master," she said.
"But you are a free woman," I reminded her.
"Yes," she wept. "I am a free woman."
I continued then, for a time, to shelter her body. I was please that I was now more relaxed. I had enjoyed myself, but, too, my use of her, and as one might make use of a slave for such a purpose, had been a calculated one, to combat the waiting, the fear, the worry, the anticipation, the expectation, spread over Ahn. That sort of thing can gnaw at you. There is an optimum point for readiness and action. It was at that point that I wished to be when the door opened. We heard, more and more frequently, the impact of stones about us. Two assaults were forced back from the walls. When it grew lighter, and I feared they might soon come for her. I left her at the outside wall, and went to my former place in the straw, and lay there. The food pan I put back, a few feet before the door, where it could be seen through the observation panel. Its contents were now gone. I myself lay in the straw, perhaps too weak to move.
15 We Leave the Cell
"Come, come, little vulo," said the man, "do not be shy." He beckoned, coaxingly, to Lady Claudia, who was still near the outside wall, crouching there now, in the straw, numb with fear. I did not even know if she could stand. In his left hand he carried several coils of rope, and a leash and collar. She regarded him with horror. "Come, come," he said, advancing past me, lying in the straw. There were two others, with set crossbows, in their hands, standing within the cell, rather to the right of the door, a one would face it from the inside. At the door stood our warder.
I did not think the fellow with the rope really wanted to approach the far wall, the outside wall, or weather wall, too closely. From time to time we could hear, and sometimes feel, through the floor, the impact of the Cosian projectiles, the great stones, some of which would weigh a thousand pounds or more, flung by mighty catapults, some the size of houses. We could hear, too, as though far off, the rhythmical shock of the battering ram at the gate, where men toiled at the hundred ropes, beneath the long shedlike roof which protected them and the ram.
"We do not want to stay here too long," said the warder to the fellow with the rope. "It is dangerous on this side. Hurry!"
"Come here," said the fellow to Lady Claudia. "Kneel here, straightly, up, off your heels, yours arms at your sides." "Please!" begged Lady Claudia.
"Hurry!" snapped the warder.
I think the fellow did not much care to be the object of adjurations by such as the warder. I think he would have preferred to have found her not in a position of authority, small though her authority might be, but rather in a position more fitting for her, one more appropriate, too, to her sex and nature, say, naked on her belly, at his feet, subject to his kicks and whips. He said nothing, however. Rather, angrily, summoning up his courage, he went quickly to the Lady Claudia, seized her by the scrub of her hair and drew here, she half crawling, half being dragged, to the center of the cell, and knelt her there, in the position he had specified.
The warder laughed.
Did the fellow not know the Lady Claudia was a free woman? It seemed to me he handled her rather roughly, given that she was free. She was not, after all, a slave girl.
The rope, then, in coil after coil, was wrapped about the Lady Claudia. It was in this fashion, I had gathered, from her own account of her capture, that she had been bound on the wall, and brought before Aemilianus. This touch was doubtless to remind her of the events of that evening.
"Make it tight!" said the warder.
Lady Claudia winced as the ropes were drawn about her.
"Now the leash and collar!" said the warder.
In a moment, then, the leash and collar were fastened on her. She then knelt there, in the center of the cell, heavily bound, collared, the leash dangling down before the ropes bound about her.
"Splendid!" said the warder.
Tears ran down Lady Claudia's cheeks. She looked at me, and smiled. She pursed her lips a little, kissing softly, almost imperceptibly, at me. I watched, lying in the straw, my eyes half closed. I did not respond to her tiny, pathetic gesture. It interested me, however, that she bore me no ill will. Had I not led her to believe that I might be of assistance to her? Had I not tried to keep up her courage? But I realized now she had never expected me, really, in the moment of truth, so to speak, to act. It would be pointless.
"How touching!" said the warder. I made as though to try to rise, to my knees, my head down. It seemed I could not manage this.
"Remain where you are," said one of the fellows with a crossbow.
"He is too weak to do anything," said the warder. "He cannot even stand." She then went to stand before Lady Claudia. "The spear, my dear Claudia," she said, "is a single piece of solid, polished metal. It is very long, and less than a hort thick. It is tapered to a point. It fits in a mount."
Lady Claudia knelt there, with her eyes closed.
I made as though, again, to try to rise. One of the guards looked at me, and then looked away.
"Glory to Ar!" snarled the warder.
"Glory to Ar," wept Lady Claudia.
"Do you know what we are waiting for?" asked the warder of Lady Claudia. "No," whispered Lady Claudia.
There was then a sudden impact somewhere on the wall, perhaps not seventy-five feet from where we were.
"That was close," said one of the guards, uneasily.
As I had expected they would, they had more to worry about than what went on in the cell.
Again I struggled to my knees. This time I remained there, head down, as though unable to move.
"Stay where you are," said one of the guards. I was about seven or eight feet from him.
"We are waiting for the executioner to come for you," said the warder, delightedly. "He will come to fetch you, and take you to the wall, to the spear."
Lady Claudia put down her head.
"Glory to Ar!" cried the warder.
"Glory to Ar," said Lady Claudia. She had her eyes closed. That, I thought, was fortunate. The nearest guard looked at me, and then glanced back to the two women. The guards had been in the cell some time, at least a few Ehn. This, I had thought, would put them at their ease. The expectation of resistance, of course, is at its height early. If it were to rise again, which I did not really expect, or not significantly, under the current circumstances, presumably that would be shortly before their departure from the cell. They were now awaiting the arrival of the executioner, who was to fetch Lady Claudia to the spear. Their expectation of resistance, now, I thought, might be at its low. To be sure, that is an excellent time to be particularly prepared. Yet it is impossible to maintain an attitude of full alertness for an extended period of time. It is psychologically impossible. This meant that the initiative, in this situation, was mine. If they had expected resistance, of course, they might have thought, appropriately enough, that I might choose to act before the arrival of the executioner, as that would mean an additional fellow to deal with.