The Dungeon [antikvár]

Chaffer One jk J3ruce McLennan, Scottish laird and master of all that lay in his sight, stood on the edge of a deep, wide, square pit. It was dug into the top of a crag that stood next to a river. The men who had dug it were standing around it, filthy, tired and covered with sweat. There were over a hundred of them, all tenants of the laird's, and it had taken them two months to level the hilltop and dig the pit in one corner. All the work had been done with picks and shovels, and the spoil carried away in big baskets and cast down the hill. From a distance it looked as if the hill had been decapitated, with the pale blood of the inner ground flowing down its sides. Bruce McLennan stared down into the newly-excavated depths. At the moment there was just a hole in the ground. But he could already see a dungeon.