All day I had slept, fitfully, and when I woke my face was encrusted with filth from the floor and bruised from its hardness. Slowly, I got up, and blinked my eyes, feeling the sleep leave me. I tried to force my eyes to adjust to the rank darkness. I could hear the guards, who seemed to have gathered down the corridor for a game of chance and tankards of the stablemaster's gin.
Taking care to be silent, I stood, my aching knees protesting the effort. I wondered where I was. I assumed I was somewhere in the castle's cellar. I seemed to be alone, and grew worried as to the whereabouts of my companion. If I remained where I was I knew that tomorrow they would exile me or kill me. Liking neither of these options I began to feel my way about the walls of the room. Feeling a draft I discovered a small, boarded up window. Remembering the knife Michel had instructed me to sew into my undergarments, I began to pry at the rusted nails that held the board.
After a quarter hour's labor the first nail sprang out suddenly, cutting my lip. Wearily I dropped the nail, wiped its rust from my face and resumed work on the board. When all the nails were removed, I was at first horrified to discover that still the board did not move, but after I scratched away the clumps of dirt about its edges it slid heavily from the wall. It much have been a cloudy day, as no light entered through the window, though the air that did was the sweetest I'd ever tasted. With difficulty I hoisted myself up into the opening, finding it just wide enough for my shoulders. I kicked and wriggled through as I heard sounds of the game breaking up in the hall. I felt the ground just a few feet below, but when I tumbled through I fell with a splash, and felt the cool water enveloping me.