True, there is a spacious holding cell made of close-fitted, floor to ceiling steel bars taking up the whole left half. But the single narrow cot (completely unpadded) is equipped with manacles at either end, the chains of which lead to a large crank.
Again, we have the issue of vocabulary. This is clearly no cot but instead a medieval torture rack. Tearing my gaze gratefully away, I’m further dismayed to see that the cell’s other furnishings are equally medieval. Another crank and chain leads up to a pulley on the ceiling, from which hangs a five-foot bar with more manacles at either end, obviously designed for suspending some woeful sufferer (“Me, me!” my terrified mind cries in disbelief) for endless hours of torture. Next, bolted to the wall opposite the bedack is a large X-shaped woo
