"I have sent for thee," the Greek began smoothly, "to tell thee somewhat that I should perhaps withhold, that thou shouldst sleep well, this night. But it is a perplexity perhaps thou wouldst face at once."
Laodice bowed her head.
"It is this: Titus and his friend, Nicanor, approached too close the walls this day, and Nicanor was wounded by an arrow. In retaliation, perfect siege hath been laid about the walls. None may come into the city."
"And–Momus, my servant," Laodice cried, waking for the first time to the calamity in this blockade, "he can not come back to me?"
"No. If he attempts it, he will be captured and put to death."
Laodice clasped her hands, while drop by drop the color left her face.
"In God's name," she whispered, "what will become of me?"
Amaryllis made no answer.
"Can–can I not go out?" Laodice asked presently, depending entirely on the Greek as adviser.
"You can–but to what fortune? Perhaps–" She stopped a moment. "No," she continued, "you have never been in a camp. No; you can not go out."