I made a terrible mistake.
They untied my wrists and the wrappings around my head so I could eat. I was in a small cloistered room with the only light coming from a lamp in the next room through a small window in the door. I was terrified. The man standing in the cell with me looked like a highwayman, dressed in dark leathers with a travelling cloak, unshaven and hair in desperate need of a comb.He had thick gloves on that smelled like a stable as they removed my blindfold and gag. He only commanded me to eat, but otherwise didn't talk. The way he said it made it sound kind of like he had a northern accent, but it was too hard to say for certain.
It was hard to eat with him staring at me like he was, not to mention the stew was watery and cold, and the bread tasted stale. Normally I wouldn't have touched such appalling food, but I was so hungry that I couldn't help myself. From the look of my gaoler's face I didn't feel like complaining would get me very far either. My father has oft scolded me on my sharp tongue and for once I felt it prudent to bite back the litany of words I would have with this man.
When I was done eating, he took away the wooden bowl and spoon and got down on one knee, near the hem of my skirts. I shrieked on instinct, but it turned out he was only loosening the ropes around my ankles. So certain I was that this brute had ill intentions, but instead he simply kicked a brass pot I hadn't noticed and told me to make my water there should I feel the need. Then, with my discarded bindings in hand he had me stand on the far end of the cell while he opened the door.