The Price of Pleasure
“But then, Reed had never before wallowed in his own filth and the filth of others, in the worst hellhole imaginable. Bruised, battered and broken, he had suffered days, weeks of total darkness in a black, suffocating pit.
Reed had lost all track of time. He couldn’t even recall how long it had been since Napoleon’s agents had seized him, charged him with spying for England and taken him without benefit of trial to Devil’s Chateau, the unofficial name of the prison perched on a windswept cliff on the coast of France. Six months? Nine months? It was impossible to judge the passage of time when one day was much the same as the next.
Though the beatings had stopped a week ago—at least Reed thought it had been a week since his arm had been broken—his body was still a mass of throbbing pain. His brutal jailors cared nothing for a man’s dignity or suffering as they wielded their weapons of torture. As he had been told repeatedly by sadistic guards, he and his fellow inmates would die in this prison.
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