Historical fiction, Scottish; Scotland -- In literature
Left alone to amuse himself as he best could, within the limits
permitted to him, the Varangian visited in succession both ends of the
hall, where the objects were more visible than elsewhere. The lower end
had in its centre a small low-browed door of iron. Over it was
displayed the Greek crucifix in bronze, and around and on every side,
the representation of shackles, fetter bolts, and the like, were also
executed in bronze, and disposed as appropriate ornaments over the
entrance. The door of the dark archway was half open, and Hereward
naturally looked in, the orders of his chief not prohibiting his
satisfying his curiosity thus far. A dense red light, more like a
distant spark than a lamp, affixed to the wall of what seemed a very
narrow and winding stair, resembling in shape and size a draw-well, the
verge of which opened on the threshold of the iron door, showed a
descent which seemed to conduct to the infernal regions. The Varangian,
however obtuse he might be considered by the quick-witted Greeks, had
no difficulty in comprehending that a staircase having such a gloomy
appearance, and the access to which was by a portal decorated in such a
melancholy style of architecture, could only lead to the dungeons of
the imperial palace, the size and complicated number of which were
neither the least remarkable, nor the least awe-imposing portion of the
sacred edifice. Listening profoundly, he even thought he caught such
accents as befit those graves of living men, the faint echoing of
groans and sighs, sounding as it were from the deep abyss beneath. But
in this respect his fancy probably filled up the sketch which his
conjectures bodied out.
"I have done nothing," he thought, "to merit being immured in one of
these subterranean dens. Surely though my captain, Achilles Tatius, is,
under favour, little better than an ass, he cannot be so false of word
as to train me to prison under false pretexts? I trow he shall first
see for the last time how the English axe plays, if such is to be the
sport of the evening. But let us see the upper end of this enormous
vault; it may bear a better omen."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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