The women, as a change, were walled up in a tiny room, where, bread and water being thrust in to them, they might eat and live, or starve and die as they chose.
But the Heir-to-Empire?
What of him?
Ah! fool that he had been to make that promise to a crafty old woman who had died in order to spite him.
Kumran's anger rose fierce; he would have given anything to break his oath; but he could not.

He was not strong enough; even his wickedness was not real.
But, short of death, the young heir should have no shelter.

Kumran flung him into a miserable cell close to the Iron Gate and thought no more of him.

And now, but for faithful Roy, Akbar would indeed have been in sorry plight.

They had barely enough to eat, but Roy stinted himself, eating nothing but the hard half-burned crusts of the coarse hearth-cakes and excusing himself from even touching the miserable mess of pease-porridge on the ground that he did not like it.