He shook her so her teeth rattled. "How is she? You must have seen her, a tall fair girl, her name is Hwicca. What has become of her?"
Phryne set her jaws against the pain. "If you let me go, barbarian, I will tell you," she said.
His hands dropped. He saw finger marks cruelly deep on her white skin. She touched the bruises with fingers that trembled while tears ran silent down her face. She caught her lip in her teeth to hold it steady.
"I am sorry," he mumbled. "But she is my wife."
Phryne leaned against the tree. At last she looked up, still hugging herself. The violet eyes were blurred. She whispered, "It is I who must ask pardon. I did not realize it was the same—I did not know."
"How could you have known? But tell me!" He held out his empty hands like a beggar.
"Uicca ... I saw her once in a while. The Cimbrian girl, they all called her. She seems well thought of by Flavius. He keeps her in a room of her own, with her own servants. He is—often there. But no one else sees her much. We never spoke. She was always very quiet. Her servants told me she was gentle to them."
"Flavius—" Eodan covered his eyes against the unpitying day.
Phryne laid a hand on his shoulder. It shuddered beneath her palm. "The Unknown God help you," she said.
He turned around and looked upon her, then reached out and gathered her against him. He kissed her so her mouth was numb.