From my heart I cried as the bonds about me cut my skin. I had done them no wrong; still they deemed it necessary to treat me as a spy until their captain returned. And they had grown tired of the wait. So they would take a brand to burn me. Who were these men that Turín had fallen to? These filthy savages who roughed my body and cut my ears with their foul words? Cruel fingers pulled back my shirt, baring my neck. I could hear their laughter, course like the bark of the tree. Would Turín never come?