One stumbled into, and through, and over things that should not be.

Heaps, that looked solid in the moonlight, yielded to the tread.

Whatever liquid lay there was the product of corruption.
Yet we did not dare to climb out of the moat until we reached the shadows at the northern angle.

Though the moonlight shone almost straight down on us it was a great deal brighter up above, and the walls cast some shadow.

There was nothing for it but to pick our way in the comparative gloom of that vulture's paradise, praying we might find a stream to wade in presently.
Once, looking up behind me, I thought I saw men's heads peering over the parapet, but that may have been imagination.