The prisoner is slumped against the post, battered and bruised, his eyes swollen. It takes him a few minutes to see you in the dim light, and then to recognize you.
“Witch!” he roars, “You said you would be by my side in my hour of need!”
“I am here, my lord, am I not?”
“More than three times three times three have I called on you, and where were you then to help me?