"Here's thy kennel, wolf's whelp," said a soldier gruffly, laying a detaining hand upon the lad's shoulder. 'Twas well he did so, otherwise Geoffrey would have stepped blindly into a yawning unfenced pit in the floor of the passage.
Hitherto the captive had offered no resistance, but the sight of the horrible pit filled him with a nameless terror. Madly he struggled with his captors, but, in spite of his youthful strength and energy, he was no match for the burly ruffians that worked the will of the Lord of Malevereux.
In a trice he was secured, a stout cord passed through a rope girdle fashion round his waist, and with a savage kick Geoffrey was hurled into space. Then the cord took the strain of his weight, and slowly he was lowered into the loathsome den that was to be his prison.
Down and down he found himself being dropped, till far above his head he could perceive a narrow circle illumined by the torchlight, then with a jerk his feet touched the floor of the pit.
Throwing down one end of the cord and hauling up the other, the men-at-arms removed all means of communication with their prisoner, and with a brutal jest and mocking laugh they disappeared, their echoing footsteps growing fainter and fainter till all was still.
Left to himself, Geoffrey could scarce control the agony of his emotions. The impenetrable darkness seemed to possess weight—it literally crushed him with its terrors.
For a considerable while he dared not move a foot, fearing that the uneven floor might contain a pitfall that would assuredly compass his destruction. There he stood, overcome with the sense of his horrible surroundings, vaguely wondering how long his body and mind could exist under such appalling conditions. He had heard of men languishing for months, nay, years, in oubliettes and loathsome dungeons till death came as a merciful release, but until now he had not realized the bodily and mental torture of the silence and darkness of a living tomb.
At length his legs refused to support him, and having carefully felt all around him, Geoffrey sank down upon the moist and slimy stones that formed the floor of the dungeon. Then he gradually worked his way, proceeding with the utmost caution, till his hands encountered the jagged wall. This he followed, making several complete circles ere he realized, by the leaving of one of his shoes on the floor, that the place was built in the shape of a bottle.
Then, gaining confidence, he made another circle, taking count of the number of strides required to bring him back to his starting-place. Thus Geoffrey discovered that his prison was but twenty paces round, and without angles or doorways communicating with other parts of the subterranean chambers.
This was one piece of information, but a most trying question was how to measure the space of time. Already he was unaware how long he had been in the awesome pit; time seemed to have ceased to exist.