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Page 47
He spoke so solemnly that I was conscious of overmastering curiosity,
not unmixed with awe. Again the way was abbreviated. Amroth took me by
the hand and bade me close my eyes. The breeze beat upon my face for a
moment. When I opened my eyes, we were on a bare hillside, full of
stones, in a kind of grey and chilly haze which filled the air. Just
ahead of us were some rough enclosures of stone, overlooked by a sort of
tower. They were like the big sheepfolds which I have seen on northern
wolds, into which the sheep of a whole hillside can be driven for
shelter. We went round the wall, which was high and strong, and came to
the entrance of the tower, the door of which stood open. There seemed to
be no one about, no sign of life; the only sound a curious wailing note,
which came at intervals from one of the enclosures, like the crying of a
prisoned beast. We went up into the tower; the staircase ended in a bare
room, with four apertures, one in each wall, each leading into a kind of
balcony. Amroth led the way into one of the balconies, and pointed
downwards. We were looking down into one of the enclosures which lay
just at our feet, not very far below. The place was perfectly bare, and
roughly flagged with stones. In the corner was a rough thatched shelter,
in which was some straw. But what at once riveted my attention was the
figure of a man, who half lay, half crouched upon the stones, his head
in his hands, in an attitude of utter abandonment. He was dressed in a
rough, weather-worn sort of cloak, and his whole appearance suggested
the basest neglect; his hands were muscular and knotted; his ragged grey
hair streamed over the collar of his cloak. While we looked at him, he
drew himself up into a sitting posture, and turned his face blankly upon
the sky. It was, or had been, a noble face enough, deeply lined, and
with a look of command upon it; but anything like the hopeless and utter
misery of the drawn cheeks and staring eyes I had never conceived. I
involuntarily drew back, feeling that it was almost wrong to look at
anything so fallen and so wretched. But Amroth detained me.
"He is not aware of us," he said, "and I desire you to look at him."
Presently the man rose wearily to his feet, and began to pace up and
down round the walls, with the mechanical movements of a caged animal,
avoiding the posts of the shelter without seeming to see them, and then
cast himself down again upon the stones in a paroxysm of melancholy. He
seemed to have no desire to escape, no energy, except to suffer. There
was no hope about it all, no suggestion of prayer, nothing but blank and
unadulterated suffering.
Amroth drew me back into the tower, and motioned me to the next
balcony. Again I went out. The sight that I saw was almost more terrible
than the first, because the prisoner here, penned in a similar
enclosure, was more restless, and seemed to suffer more acutely. This
was a younger man, who walked swiftly and vaguely about, casting glances
up at the wall which enclosed him. Sometimes he stopped, and seemed to
be pursuing some dreadful train of solitary thought; he gesticulated,
and even broke out into mutterings and cries--the cries that I had heard
from without. I could not bear to look at this sight, and coming back,
besought Amroth to lead me away. Amroth, who was himself, I perceived,
deeply moved, and stood with lips compressed, nodded in token of assent.
We went quickly down the stairway, and took our way up the hill among
the stones, in silence. The shapes of similar enclosures were to be seen
everywhere, and the indescribable blankness and grimness of the scene
struck a chill to my heart.
From the top of the ridge we could see the same bare valleys stretching
in all directions, as far as the eye could see. The only other building
in sight was a great circular tower of stone, far down in the valley,
from which beat the pulse of some heavy machinery, which gave the sense,
I do not know how, of a ghastly and watchful life at the centre of all.
"That is the Tower of Pain," said Amroth, "and I will spare you the
inner sight of that. Only our very bravest and strongest can enter there
and preserve any hope. But it is well for you to know it is there, and
that souls have to enter it. It is thence that all the pain of countless
worlds emanates and vibrates, and the governor of the place is the most
tried and bravest of all the servants of God. Thither we must go, for
you shall have sight of him, though you shall not enter."
We went down the hill with all the speed we might, and, I will confess
it, with the darkest dismay I have ever experienced tugging at my heart.
We were soon at the foot of the enormous structure. Amroth knocked at
the gate, a low door, adorned with some vague and ghastly sculptures,
things like worms and huddled forms drearily intertwined. The door
opened, and revealed a fiery and smouldering light within. High up in
the tower a great wheel whizzed and shivered, and moving shadows
crossed and recrossed the firelit walls.
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