The crowd had thickened since he'd circled away.
Gabriel worked his way back through the press of bodies, positioning himself where he'd stood before, fifty paces from the scaffold, close enough to see, far enough to remain unremarkable among the gathered mass.
The sun had climbed higher. The bells would ring soon.
Around him, the atmosphere had shifted. Conversations had grown louder.
Someone laughed. A vendor called out, hawking meat pies. Children darted between adults, playing games that had nothing to do with the scaffold at the square's centre.
The execution had become entertainment.
Gabriel's eyes moved to the platform.
The woman was still there, kneeling on the ground inside the perimeter of guards, but something was different. A hood covered her head now, dark fabric that hung to her shoulders. Her posture had collapsed inward, shoulders hunched, head bowed low enough that her chin nearly touched her chest.
