Melusine shrieked an imprecation, and ran the length of the aisle, searching for the weapon she had thrown. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. ’ The smile vanished. I am quite sure that I do not know you. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it.
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