Agias looked at the Ethiop.

The hard wood had struck the top of his skull, and death must have been instantaneous.
"He does not feel any pain," explained the young Greek, who realized that this was no moment to indulge in emotions of any sort.

"Now, Artemisia, you must hurry and put on a clean dress yourself; and give me at least a new tunic, for I cannot show this on the streets.

Put into a basket all the bread you have, and some oil, and some olives, and some slices of salt fish." Artemisia disappeared in the next room.

Agias returned to his prisoner.