At the end of the day's work they were marched off to separate chambers, or, as they might be called, dungeons.

Their food consisted of water, dried dates, and bread, and they had little to complain of in this respect; indeed, the slaves in the gardens of the governor's house at Jerusalem enjoyed an exceptionally favoured existence.

The governor himself was absorbed in the cares of the city.

The head gardener happened to be a man of unusual humanity, and it was really in his hands that the comfort of the prisoners was placed.
Sometimes in the course of the day, veiled ladies would issue in groups from the palace, attended by black slaves with drawn scimitars.

They passed without unveiling across the point where the slaves were at work, and all were forbidden on pain of death to look up, or even to approach the konak or pavilion, where the ladies threw aside their veils, and enjoyed the scent and sight of the flowers, the splash of murmuring waters, and the strains of music touched by skilful hands.
Although Cuthbert wondered in his heart what these strange wrapped-up figures might look like when the veils were thrown back, he certainly did not care enough about the matter to run any risk of drawing the anger of his guards upon himself by raising his eyes towards them; nor did he ever glance up at the palace, which was also interdicted to the slaves.