The roar of conversation rolled through the growing crowd. Their cacophony of voices echoed back off the stone and marble edifices constructed generations ago. Others gathered along balconies and flat rooftops on wooden structures. The grand wagon sat askew near the fountain with the carriage door hanging open. A few men ventured close enough to look inside. They were as amazed by the décor as they were the driver, tied on the floor around discarded guardsmen uniforms, stinking of his own filth. They were tempted to help themselves to the unprotected treasures within but were restrained by fear that this might be some elaborate trap. A few children came close enough to pet the eight horses still harnessed to the front of the wagon, waiting patiently to be unhooked and stabled. Most eyes were on the man hanging aloft above the roof of the abandoned nobleman’s wagon. His clothes were discolored and marred by sweat and urine.
