Punishment in that place. . .took various forms. But it always ended
with the Cellar, a cold and solitary cell in the ancient dungeon that
lay beneath our castle prison.
"For weeks on end. . .he was caged there without light or hope, like
an animal. Each return to the light of day saw him more ill, and more
distracted. But it never once brought him closer to submission.
Towards the end, his feverish mental state had become so acute that
our captors thought of sending him to an asylum. This, until it was
learned that he had contracted the shakes*, which would sooner or
later carry him off of their own accord.
*Ague.
"It is a wonder that he lived to see the escape, let alone survived
our long flight across the countryside. What a bloody hell that was.
Stealing food, horses when we could get them, riding or walking the
endless miles by night, hiding out like thieves and murderers by day.
All in the land of our birth, and the home that we had fought for.
After what we had already been through, I don't know how he endured
it. I, at least, had thoughts of you, though I had lost all hope of
your love.
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