At that point it occurred to me that I ought to explore the cellars more thoroughly, for I had gone no further than the wine cellar and the two cells.
Like the manor above, the subterranean regions of the building had undergone many expansions and moderations. The vaults were far vaster than I had originally imagined. A tunnel from the wine cellar led to a large cell which seemed older that the cells I had seen earlier. The stone work was simpler, and it was yet more dank and decayed.
From the Large Cell there were two doors and a trap door. The first door led to a small room with one barred window at the top, an old well and access to a small pit that seemed designed for disposing of waste. Perhaps it was an ancient wash room for servants, or an emergence source of water in the event of a siege- I shall never know. The trap door led to an abandoned wine cellar, flooded with a few inches of water and filled with a rancid stench of decay- a combination of sour wine and dead rats. The second door took a little force to open and led down a tunnel even more ancient than the last.
They led steadily down. By the light of my candle I saw that the walls had been cut into solid rock and were covered in a variety of moss and mould. The occasional rat ran across my path. At the end of the tunnel was a roughly cut, rectangular vault, about eight feet wide, 10 feet long , but over 20 feet high . Ahead of me were the rotted remains of a wooden spiral staircase which once led to a heavily locked, rust covered, iron door. To the left and the right were decaying wooden doors. A little light came came from a tiny, barred window at the top, near the iron door. Bats hung sleeping from the stumps of the ruins stairs.
The left door led to a small room that looked like an ancient parlour.
Battle hardened old soldier that I am, the room on the right still shocked me. I had (briefly, thank God) seen similar rooms in Spain. In the middle was a large, mouldy table shattered with tools, although they were half rusted away, the cruel applications of those tools were still apparent. Other instruments of that horrible trade were about the room; a brazier in one corner, hooks, chains and manacles on the walls. One wall ended in bars, the doors to two tiny cells. Cages really.
There was a trap door on the floor which I choose not to open.
I turned my back on that terrible place. With the foul smell of dust and bones still in my nostrils, I strode up the tunnel. Back in the Large Cell I slammed the door to the tunnel behind me.
I must have been truly insane at that point, for it was then that I decided to live permanently down in the vaults.
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