Prince Rupert had very truly observed that the prisoners of war were not pampered. The cruelties of Provost-Marshal Smith, the Governor, had been revealed by the Lady Essex, who had been called into the House of Commons some six months before, and had given evidence on her return from Oxford of what the prisoners had to undergo. This had been fully confirmed by Captain Wingate, who after months of imprisonment at Oxford had obtained an exchange.
Still bound to Passey, Gabriel was ordered up to the highest room in one of the towers of the Castle with four other officers and six of the rank and file. The place seemed already full of men, and the exhausted prisoners looked round blankly enough, wondering how they were to find room in these wretched quarters.
The unhappy inmates, however, gave them a warm welcome, and it was pitiful to see the way in which these half-famished men crowded round them, eager to gain some news from the outer world.
“Where do you come from?” demanded a grey-haired prisoner, seizing upon Gabriel.
“We lay at Marlborough last night, sir,” he replied, looking with something like awe at the emaciated face of the speaker.
“Marlborough!” cried the prisoner, his eyes lighting up; “I was carried off from Marlborough last winter.”
And he poured out question after question in the vain hope of gaining news of his family.
“But may you not receive visitors?” asked Gabriel, knowing that even criminals were not debarred from this privilege.
“We may see no one,” said the poor lawyer, for such he proved to be. “Come, you are unbound now, sit here and I will tell you what to expect.”
“With your permission, sir, I will first find some place for my companion to lie; he is wounded, and well-nigh spent.”