Chapter 7As awareness of my surroundings dawned, I gradually found them to be a rattling wooden floor and an arched canvas roof. I ached in several places: most painfully — and not unexpectedly — the back of my head. My hands and feet were tightly fettered, not improving my comfort. The shaking and jolting of this dismal little space sent regular spasms of pain up my spine. I eventually discerned the sound of horses close at hand, and realised that I lay shackled in a fast-moving covered wagon. Weak light filtered through the canvas, suggesting that the day was well advanced. Otherwise, I could tell nothing of time or place. I could not even move far enough to poke my head out of the rear flaps, as my shackles were bracketed to the floor. By my reckoning, I was in this unenviable state for
