She turned white, squirming, shaking her head.

"You were not really very pleasing," I said. "Perhaps you would like to be more pleasing now?"

She nodded, desperately, tears bursting from her eyes.

"Hold her leash, close to the collar," I said to Lady Claudia, who was white-faced, too.

This would keep Lady Publia from plunging her head to the floor, at our feet. She threw her head back, in misery.

But I pulled it forward, by the hair, and covered it, with a large piece of cloth from the guard's tunic. I then, with a knife, and a cord of rolled cloth, put through holes in the bottom of the cloth, made it into a rough hood, and tied it on her, fastening it behind the back of her neck.

"Perhaps if you had been more pleasing," I suggested.

She then began hysterically, piteously, to squirm and moan.

I rose to my feet. I gestured to Lady Claudia to release the leash. It seemed she could hardly open her fingers but she did so. Lady Publia, as I had expected, as soon as the leash was released, put her head, secured in the darkness of the crude hood, wildly, piteously down, searching, groping, for my feet, to press her covered, parted lips and stopped mouth against them. Then I took the leash back between her legs, crossed her ankles, and bound them together with it. She was thus, having herself assumed this position, now, at my convenience, fastened helplessly down, bent over, on her knees. I stood up. I looked down at her. Yes, it was also a position of obeisance.

"See if anyone is coming," I said to Lady Claudia.

She hurried, distraught, to the cell door.

In a moment she had returned.

"Doubtless he will be along presently," I said.

Lady Claudia looked down, horrified, at our helpless warder. I crouched down by the prisoner. "The spear, as I understand it," I said, trying to recall the words of our warder earlier to Lady Claudia, "is a solid piece of polished metal, very long, and less than a hort in width. It is tapered to a point, and fits in a mount."

Lady Publia, squirmed on her knees hysterically. She uttered tiny, wild, protesting noises.

Lady Claudia looked at me wildly, over the veil. There were tears in her own eyes.

At that moment there was a hideous impact some forty feet or fifty feet from us and on the other side of the interior wall to the left, as one would face the cell door, in what, presumably would have been the cell adjoining ours, there was a bursting inward of brick and stone. In a moment there was a cloud of dust in the corridor, some of which drifted into our cell. I put my arm before my face. Lady Claudia's veil and Lady Publia's hood doubtless afforded them some protection.

We heard a cough in the corridor outside.

In a moment a tall fellow entered our cell. He wore a black hood, which, save for a narrow, rectangular opening for the eyes, covered his entire head. The hood and shoulders, in particular, were covered with dust. He struck some dust from his clothes and body. "The wall weakens," he said to me. "In a few Ehn they will be coming again. They are forming. We can no longer keep them back. Their engines are almost climbing the walls."

I nodded.

"You are Lady Publia, the warder?" he asked Lady Claudia.

"I am," she said, boldly.

"I do not approve of woman warders," said he. "It is a task for men." She tossed her head.

"Perhaps you regret having accepted the position," he said.

"Perhaps," said Lady Claudia.

At our feet, Lady Publia, kneeling, bent over, small, hooded, the leash tight against the back of her neck, unable to raise her head, squirmed and uttered wild, tiny noises. We paid her no attention, as she was the prisoner. I supposed, however, that perhaps she did, now, upon reflection, regret having accepted the position of warder. "You have pretty legs," said the fellow to Lady Claudia.

She did not respond.

"What is your caste?" he asked.

"The Merchants," she said.

"Why are you not in the white and gold," he asked, "on this, of all days?" White and gold, or white and yellow, are the caste colors of the Merchants.

She did not answer.

"You are not even in the Robes of Concealment," he said.

"They are not appropriate here," she said.

"You do not wear them because it is not appropriate for them here," he asked, "or is that why you are here, because it is not appropriate to wear such things here?"

"There are many places where they would not be appropriate," she said. "Yes," he said, "for example, on a Cosian sales block."

"I meant other places," she said.

"It is true," he said, "for example, in climbing the rubble, carrying stones to workmen on the walls, in tending the wounded, and such. Thus I wonder why it is that you chose to be here."

"It is cool here," she said.

"And perhaps you could feel more like a man here," he said.

"Perhaps," she said, as though angrily.

Lady Publia, in the hood, tied at our feet, made a small, wild noise, as of understanding, acknowledgment, dismay, regret, misery and pain. The fellow's question had apparently seemed profoundly meaningful to her, for some reason. At any rate, if she had had secret, internal pretensions to manhood, or to similarity to men, or something along these lines, it seemed unlikely she now retained them. I thought that she probably now realized she was something quite different, and in my opinion, something quite individual, authentic and wonderful, a woman. At any rate, she would know something that was indisputable, that she was at our feet, a helplessly bound female.

"From the look of it, woman," said he to Lady Claudia, "I do not think you have underrobes beneath those rags."

"That is my own concern," she said, loftily. "By nightfall you will probably be in a collar, licking the feet of a Cosian," he said.

"Perhaps," she said, angrily.

"And what of you, my little vulo," he said, not unkindly, crouching beside Lady Publia. "I wager that you, too, would like to have the opportunity to prostrate yourself before Cosians."

Lady Publia began to squirm and wriggle wildly, making piteous sounds.

"You must have fed her very well," said the fellow, looking up at Lady Claudia, whom he took for Lady Publia.

"She has a great deal of energy."

Lady Publia struggled wildly, trying to pull her head up, against the thick collar and heavy strap. But, in the end, she was exactly as she had been before. "Why is she gagged?" asked the fellow.

"That she not be able to make her identity known," I said.

Lady Publia stopped moving, startled.

"It is the orders of Aemilianus," I said. "he was not certain whether or not there were more than one spy of such a nature in the city. Accordingly, in this fashion, if there should be more than one such agent, Cosians would not know which of them was mounted on the pole. The hood, of course, has a similar purpose. To some extent, it might, though it seems a little late now, impair the functioning of their intelligence network in the city. Similarly the other agents, if there are such, might be intimidated or terrified, not knowing which of their number had been captured, how much was known, who might be next, and so on."

"The commander is a clever man," said the fellow.

"Yes," I agreed. I did have respect for Aemilianus as a commander.

Lady Publia squirmed, and wept. The hood was wet with her tears.

"Do not fret, little vulo," he said to her, putting his hand on her head, "you will soon be on the spit, cooking in the sun."

She wept and struggled.

"It seems there will be little difficulty in getting this one to squirm on the spear," said the fellow. Wild, tiny, piteous noises emanated from Lady Publia's hood. "Sometimes they wriggle well," he said, "perhaps because they are afraid, or because they think they can get off the spear somehow, or because they are trying to end it. Sometimes they try to hold themselves as still as possible. Sometimes then we use the whip on them, and sometimes not. If we let them take their time about it, of course, the penetration is sometimes as little as a hort an Ahn. The end result, of course, is the same."