"You have to die like this because you're not a Roman Citizen", you tell her, harshly, thinking to yourself, "and you're only called 'Diana' because that lecherous old bastard of a master named you after the Roman goddess of love."
Diana didn't reply to this, but said, "is this going to hurt as much as I think it's going to hurt?"
Another injustice. She might be named after one of them but the gods didn't seem very fond of Diana. At every crucifixion this old hag would turn up with drugged wine, it wasn't much but it seemed to help. Thieves, terrorists, proper murderers, it didn't matter, she'd be there. Today, just because we're crucifying someone who doesn't deserve it, no sign of her. Typical.
Jedakk's man approaches, having selected a suitable hammer and spikes. As you look up, there coming out of the town gate is the old lady, hurrying as best she can on her stick.
"Can you hold on a minute?", you ask.
"What for? I haven't got all fucking day!"
"Drugged wine - go on, it'll help her."
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
You take that for 'yes', and say to Diana, "yes, it will hurt, quite a lot to be honest, but if you drink some of this it will help." You help her to sit up, and the old girl gives her a cup of the wine.
As she lays back down again, and stretches out her arm for Jedakk's man, she says "Thank you."
"That's OK," you say, but you still feel a right shit.