Behind a travelling cart.

The old farmer is mostly blind and half-deaf. He's taken his wares to market on the same day each week, at the same time, for nearly thirty years now. He knows the route by heart, and can follow it by memory alone. He has no reason to look behind him, and wouldn't be able to see anything if he could. As far as he can tell, today is a day like any other. Except for a slight drag on the cart, which he chalks up to his donkey not being as spry as it used to be.

Evellyn can shout as much as she wants. There's nothing she can do to get his attention. She's harnessed to the cart by a rope that's wrapped around her waist, her hands still tied behind her back and nothing to cover her beautiful body but an old straw hat that you thoughtfully provided to keep her head safe from the sun. She's spattered up to the knee with mud from being dragged down the muddy roads, **** to jog to keep up with the cart, on display to all the peasants labouring in the fields and the traders making the long trek into town. Her breasts bounce, her buttocks flex and her face glows with shame.

The air rings with her curses as the gates of the city come into view. The marketplace lies on the other side of town, and it can get pretty crowded this time of day.