dungeon for the poisoner."



Chapter 22: A Medieval Tyrant.


Drogo did not venture to bring in his prisoners by the light of
day, for although he had collected together a large flock of black
sheep, yet did he not dare openly to consign a preaching friar to
those dungeons of his.

The men he had with him on the spot were certain lewd fellows of
the baser sort, distinguished even in Walderne Castle for their
wickedness; yet even they had their superstitions, and imagined it
would bring bad luck to arrest the ecclesiastic, travelling in the
garb of his order.

But Drogo's will was law, and they obeyed. They detained the
prisoners in an outlying farmhouse until dark, then thrusting a
labourer's smock over Martin's robe, led their prisoners to the
castle.

Prisoners were no novelty there, many of these free lances were
born in camp, and had the inherited habits of generations of
robbers, so that it was to them a second nature to mutilate,
imprison, and torture, and slay. They looked upon burghers and
peasants as butchers do on sheep, or rather they looked upon them
as beings made that warriors might wring their hidden hoards from
them, by torture and violence, or even in default of the gold hang