The moment we get back to the cell, the door behind us slams shut and we make our way slowly to the back corner of the stone room. My sister gently and quietly helps me to sit down and lean against the wall. She does not speak. Even when a guard enters carrying a pile of hay which he dumps in the corner opposite us, she doesn’t make a sound. “This is so you can be more comfortable.” He says, “I’m to stay here and make sure that the boy tries to walk.” He looks sad, like he doesn’t really bear us any harm. “I was on your father’s side.