The crowd looked at one another.
No longer now, the bars now quiet, did I even hear the drums and trumpets of the approaching Cosians. Those instruments, too, were silent. I did not doubt, however, that the approach north on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder was still in progress.
Seremides now, at the rear of the platform, where the rear ramp ascended to its surface, extended his hand downward, to escort a figure clad and veiled in dazzling white to the surface of the platform. It was a graceful figure who, head down, the fingers of her left hand in the light grasp of Seremides, now came forward upon the platform.
"No! No!" cried many in the crowd. "No!"
"It is Talena!" wept a man.
The figure, to be sure, was robed in white, and veiled, but I had little doubt that it was indeed Talena, once the daughter of Marlenus of Ar, Ubar of Ubars. "She is not gloved!" cried a man.
"She is barefoot!" cried another.
Marcus looked down, sharply, at Phoebe, who clung to his arm. Instantly Phoebe looked down. In that crush she could scarcely have knelt. She might have been forced from her knees and trampled. Phoebe, of course, was much exposed in the brief slave tunic, her arms and legs. I looked at her calves, ankles and feet. She, too, was barefoot. This was appropriate for her, of course, as she was a slave. Slaves are often kept barefoot. I then looked up, continuing to regard her, she clinging to Marcus. Yes, she was quite lovely. She looked up a moment, saw my eyes upon her, and then looked down again, quickly. The slave girdle too, tied high on her, crossed, emphasized the loveliness of her small breasts. I was pleased for Marcus. He has a lovely slave. I was lonely. I wished that I, too, had a slave.
"She is in the robes of a penitent or suppliant!" cried another in dismay. "No, Talena!" cried a man.
"No, Talena," cried another, "do not."
"We will not permit it!" cried a man.
"Not our Talena!" wept a woman.
"The crowd grows ugly," observed Marcus.
"Ar is not worth such a price!" cried another.
"Better give the city to flames!" cried another.
"Let us fight! Let us fight!" cried men.
Several men broke out, into the street, where Taurentians, with spears held across their bodies, struggled to restrain them.
"Good," said Marcus. "There is going to be a riot."
"If so," I said, "let us withdraw."
"It will give me a chance to slip a knife into a few of these fellows," said Marcus.
"Phoebe might be hurt," I said.
"She is only a slave," said Marcus, but I saw him shelter her in his arms, preparing to move back through the crowd.
"Wait," I said.
Talena herself, on the height of the platform, had her hands out, palms up, shaking them negatively, even desperately.
I smiled.
This behavior on her part seemed scarcely in keeping with the dignity of the putative daughter of a Ubar, not to mention her mien as a penitent or suppliant. "She urges us to calm!" said a man.
"She pleads with us to stand back," said a man. "Come back."
"Noble Talena!" wept a fellow.
The crowd wavered. Several of the men in the street backed away, returning to the crowd.
Talena then, now that the crowd, divided and confused, seemed more tractable, put her head down and to one side, and, lifting her arms, the palms up, made a gesture as of resignation and nobility, pressing back the crowd.
"She does not wish succor," said a fellow.
"She fears that we may suffer in her behalf," moaned a man.
It had been a narrow thing, I thought. Had Talena herself not suddenly interposed her own will, clearly, vigorously, even desperately, signaling negatively to the crowd, the platform and avenue might have swarmed with irate citizens, intent upon her rescue. The handful of Taurentians about would have been swept back like leaves before a hurricane.
"Do not let this be done, Seremides!" cried a fellow.
"Protect Talena!" cried several men.
But now Seremides held forth his hands, calmly, palms down, and raised and lowered them, gently, several times.
The crowd murmured, uneasily, threateningly.
"Talena intends to sacrifice herself for us, for the city, for the Home Stone!" wept a man.
"She must not be permitted to do so," said a fellow.
"We will not permit it!" said another, suddenly.
"Let us act!" cried a man.
Again the crowd wavered. There was a sudden pressing forth toward the platform, a tiny, incipient surgency. Taurentians braced themselves and pressed back against the crowd with the shafts of their spears.
Seremides' calming hands continued to beg for patience.
Then, again, the crowd was quiet, tense. I did not think that it would take much to precipitate violence. Yet, for the moment, at least, it was still, if seething. There is often a delicate balance in such things, and sometimes in such situations even a small action, even a seemingly insignificant stimulus, can trigger a sudden, massive response.
Seremides then, again, held out his hand to Talena. He then led her forward, as before, toward the front ramp. As they neared the figure of Gnieus Lelius, kneeling in his chains near the front ramp, Talena seemed to hesitate, to shrink back with distaste. One small hand, even, extended, palm out, toward the former regent, as though she would fend away the very sight of him, as though she could not bear the thought of his nearness. She even turned to Seremides, doubtlessly imploring him with all the piteous vulnerability of the penitent or suppliant, that she not be stationed close to that odious object, which had brought such lamentable catastrophe and misery upon her city.
Seremides seemed to hesitate for a moment and then, as though he had made a determined decision, however unwise it might be, graciously, and with great courtesy, conducted Talena to a place further from the kneeling Gnieus Lelius. The crowd murmured its approval.
"Good, Seremides!" cried a man.
As Talena was conducted to her place, a few feet from Gnieus Lelius, she drew up the white robes a little with her right hand, so that they were above her ankles. In this way those who might not have noticed this fact before could now note that she was barefoot. I supposed this tiny act of exposure, so apparently natural, if not inadvertent, as though merely to aid her footing, this act so delicately politic, must have cost the modesty of the putative daughter of Marlenus of Ar much.
A man near me put his head in his hands and wept. Marcus glanced at him, contemptuously.
In a moment then, startling me, and doubtless many others in the crowd, there was a blast of trumpets and a roll of drums to our right. Regulars of Cos, regiments of them, in ordered lines, in cleaned, pressed blue, with polished helmets and shields, preceded by numerous standard bearers, representing far more units than were doubtless in the city at the moment, and musicians, advanced. Tharlarion cavalrymen, of both bipedal and quadrupedal tharlarion, flanked the lines. The street shook under the tread of these beasts. Turned on the crowd they might, in their passage, have trampled hundreds.
The crowd, now that it had segments of the forces of Cos before it, seemed strangely docile. These were not a handful of Taurentians that might have been swept from their path like figures off a kaissa board. These were warriors in serried ranks, many of whom had doubtless seen battle. To move against such would have been like throwing themselves onto the knife walls of Tyros.
Similarly, should the troops wheel to the sides, charging, blades drawn, they might have slaughtered thousands, harvesting the crowds, trapped by their own numbers, like sa-tarna.
With a roll of drums and a blast of trumpets, and the distinct, uniform sound of hundreds of men coming simultaneously to a halt, the Cosian array arrested its march not yards from the forward ramp.
I thought I saw the figure of Talena, standing on the platform, with others, tremble. Perhaps now she realized, I thought, what it might mean to have Cosians in the city. Did she now, suddenly, I wondered, realize how vulnerable she really was, and Ar, and how such fellows could now do much what they pleased. She was in the white robes of a penitent or suppliant. The penitent or suppliant, incidentally, is supposed to be naked beneath such robes. I doubted, however, that Talena was naked beneath them. On the other hand, she would surely wish the good citizens of Ar to believe that she was.