“I am full of pity for thy brains,” said Sir Francis.
“Here’s the pit!” said the voice of Sir Godfrey. “Bring him along.”
“Hark!” said Sir Francis to Geoffrey. “Thou must go to Oyster-le-Main with a message. Darest thou go alone?”
“If I dare?” retorted Geoffrey, proudly.
“It is well. Come to the pit when the Baron is safe in the house.”
Now they were at the iron door. Here the ground was on a level with the bottom of the pit, but sloped steeply up to the top of its walls elsewhere, so that one could look down inside. The Baron unlocked the door and entered with his cowslip wine, which (not being a very potent decoction) began to be covered with threads of ice as soon as it was set down. The night was growing more bitter as its frosty hours wore on; for the storm was departed, and the wind fallen to silence, and the immense sky clean and cold with the shivering glitter of the stars.
Then Geoffrey led the Dragon into the pit. This was a rude and desolate hole, and its furniture of that extreme simplicity common to bear-pits in those barbarous times. From the middle of the stone floor rose the trunk of a tree, ragged with lopped boughs and at its top forking into sundry limbs possible to sit among. An iron trough was there near a heap of stale greasy straw, and both were shapeless white lumps beneath the snow. The chiselled and cemented walls rose round in a circle and showed no crevice for the nails of either man or bear to climb by. Many times had Orlando Crumb and Furioso Bun observed this with sadness, and now Sir Francis observed it also. He took into his chest a big swallow of air, and drove it out again between his teeth with a weary hissing.
“I will return at once,” Geoffrey whispered as he was leaving.
Then the door was shut to, and Sir Francis heard the lock grinding as the key was turned. Then he heard the Baron speaking to Geoffrey.
“I shall take this key away,” he said; “there’s no telling what wandering fool might let the monster out. And now there’s but little time before dawn. Elaine, child, go to your bed. This excitement has plainly tired you. I cannot have my girl look like that when she’s a bride to-day. And you too, sir,” he added, surveying Geoffrey, “look a trifle out of sorts. Well, I am not surprised. A dragon is no joke. Come to my study.” And he took Geoffrey’s arm.