At last, upon a night, tossing upon my wretched bed in dire torment of soul, I chanced to espy my enemy and him sleeping; whereat I fell to fierce anger.
"Ha, Brandon!" I cried. "Will ye sleep, man, will ye sleep and I in torment. Wake—wake and tell me, must we die soon? Wake, I say!" At this he raised himself to blink at me in the beam of the lanthorn. "Must we die soon, think ye?" I demanded fiercely.
"In God's time, Martin!" said he.
"Think ye they will—torture me first?" Now here, seeing his troubled look and how he groped for an answer, I cursed and bade him tell me, aye or no.
"Alas, I do fear it!" said he.
"We are beyond hope?" I demanded.
"Nay, there is always God," said he. "But we are beyond all human aid. This do I know by reason of this airy dungeon and the luxury of food and light. Fra Alexo doeth nought unreasonably; thus we have our lanthorn that we, haply waking from dreams of home and happiness, may behold our prison walls and know an added grief. Instead of the water-dungeon or the black terror of cell deep-hidden from the blessed day, he hath set us in this goodly place that we, beholding the sun, may yearn amain for the blessed freedom of God's green world—"
"Ha!" quoth I. "And for those he dooms to the torment he sendeth rich food and generous wine—aye, aye, I see it now—a man strong and full-blooded may endure more agony and longer. So they will torture me—as they did you—but when, ah, God—when?" And here I sank face down upon my bed and lay there shuddering. And presently I was aware of my companion kneeling beside me, his hand upon my shoulder, his gentle voice in my ear:
"Comfort ye, Martin, comfort ye, God shall give ye strength—"
"Nay, I am a coward!" I cried bitterly, "A shameful craven!"