After the Dux embraces Amlaidh, there is a rapid exchange of words. Too rapid. Amlaidh is trying to save us by telling a tale, from his quick tattle and rapid blinking. His words flow faster and faster until the Dux finally cuts them off, having heard enough. The Roman peers at me, then sighs, shakes his head and says something to Amlaidh that sounds like an apology. He steps closer to Valeria and surveys her with his cold fish-eye.

Behind the Dux's back, I look to Amlaidh in hopes he can give me some sign or signal of what is happening. I see his features harden into a pale mask that bears no resemblance to the man I knew. My glances bounces off him as if he has suddenly turned to stone. He folds his arms and turns his back. He has convinced the Dux that he is a friend of Rome. Valeria and I are obviously not.

What is to become of us now? I recall how, just before we were captured, Valeria made a grim show with her knife, demonstrating without words what would happen IF. Remembering that, I know now that if she cannot escape, she will kill as many Romans as possible and then end her own life before she suffers too much. While the Dux considers her, my thoughts spin faster and faster, seeking a way out.