She brought both bowl of clean water and mug of tea, set each on the low table before the sofa, the drink nearer to him. She seated herself beside him, one leg drawn up under her, hidden under the long draping of her skirt. Her finger traced one side of the brand, then she took his wrist and gently turned his arm back over. It was a better angle at which to clean the wound at his upper arm.

"I thought to free my slave once." She huffed out a soft, dry laugh and squeezed the excess water from the cloth in one hand. "My, hm, ancillæ," she said, remembering the Latin word that she thought came close. She wiped gently at his cuts and bruises, not for fear of hurting him but not seeing need to exacerbate the wound.

"She was so angry with me. Hurt, that I would .. banish her from my house. Upset that she thought she did wrong. I was trying to show her favor. But it was the same as for you. Her home was a great distance away, she had not seen it in many years. Even if she tried to return, if someone had stopped her on the road, what would she do? We use collars, but take a collar off and another man can put another collar on. All she knew was how to serve me, and how to pleasure men. How could I leave her to that?"