Arbandes talked for a long time, far longer than before, almost as if he enjoyed making his sister wait. The response was brief and in words neither Crispinus nor Hadrian understood.

‘They are not impressed,’ Philo explained.

Azátē took over, and Crispinus, who had never heard her speak louder than in a soft, slightly husky tone, was impressed by how well her voice carried.

‘The lady is telling them who she is,’ Philo told them, for Azátē was using Aramaic from the start. ‘They say that they do not believe her, and now she addresses the two strategoi by name, and also calls out to several others she recognises and pays honour to their courage – and their wisdom.’

‘Smart girl,’ Hadrian commented as the discussion went on. ‘That’s good and bad. Trajan is too much the Roman to be comfortable around a smart woman.’

‘They still have doubts, so she is saying that she, even she, princess of the blood, lady of Edessa, will prove it.’ They saw her peel off her veil and throw off the covering of her head. Crispinus’ heart pounded as he remembered her arrival in his tent.

‘Cleopatra,’ he said under his breath.

‘They are arguing,’ Philo went on. ‘She assures them that if they harm any of her folk inside then she will have each and every one of them impaled.’

‘Oh, not perhaps the best aid to diplomacy,’ Hadrian noted.

‘The lady tells them that they are defying her will, and the will of her father and brother. That the Romans came as friends and they rejected them, and fought them. That such a fight is hopeless and can only end in the burning of their city. The men will die, their wives and daughters will be raped and those who survive that enslaved along with their children.’

‘Hercules’ balls,’ Hadrian muttered as the translation continued. Crispinus felt a pang of regret. Last night, coming back from the failed attack, he had gone to Azátē and he had not been as gentle as his wont.

‘They have repulsed one attack, but more will come and in the end the Romans will have their city. That will be the end of Nicopolis – in the victory of others – unless they give in now. There will be no more chances.’

‘Hey!’ Hadrian said. ‘Shut the bitch up!’

Philo frowned in disapproval, realised what he had done and swiftly went on. ‘She has come to them because she loves them. They are her people and she wishes only the best for them, so that her heart breaks to see them on the path to utter ruin. Turn back now, and surrender within the hour or there will be no more mercy, and even she – the one who loves them more than she loves any other folk – will not weep, for they have only themselves to blame. It is they who will be cursed by their tearful women and children. That is all!’