The giant stood on the rain-soaked meadow, his shadow covering the whole mouth of the cave. His name was Despair, and he owned nearby Doubting Castle. The meadow belonged to him too. As soon as he heard that the boys were travelers, he seized their belongings and forced them to follow him.
Chris tried to explain that they had simply taken the wrong road, but the giant would not listen. The castle door was tall and heavy, and there were no lamps inside. The boys were pushed into a little room underground. The door slammed behind them, leaving only a narrow crack through which gray light entered.
Hopeful sat against the wall, looking very unwell. He grew hungry more easily than Chris, and he had scraped his hand helping rescue the man. Chris took out half a piece of soggy bread and offered him the larger share. But Hopeful did not take it.
“I told you it wasn’t on the map,” he said.
Chris nodded. “I know.”
“Why didn’t you listen?”
“I was in a hurry to get back. And I thought that after losing the bundle, I would be better at choosing roads.”
Hopeful looked at him for a while before finally taking the bread. He still did not smile, and Chris stopped urging him to forgive him. They divided the water they could drink, then tried pulling at the door. It did not move.
The next day, Despair came with his wife, Diffidence. The giant said they would never get out, and the King of the Celestial City would not want two people who had taken the wrong road. Beside him, Diffidence added, “Nobody will come looking for you. If anyone wanted to, they would have come already.”
Chris thought of his first letter and his second. There had been no word from home, and nobody at Palace Beautiful knew they had entered the meadow. His stomach was empty and his head hurt. Little by little, the giant’s words crowded in until they began to feel like facts.
Despair demanded that they write a sentence: I give up this road and will no longer wait for help. If they wrote it, he would let them work in the castle instead of going hungry.
Chris took the pen and stared at the paper for a long time. It’s only writing, he thought. I don’t have to mean it. But looking at the sheet, he remembered Faithful at the trial, refusing to treat a lie as an easy way out.
He put down the pen. Despair grew furious, took away the paper and lamp, and locked the door again.
In the darkness, Chris hugged his knees. “I’m afraid I really will never go home,” he whispered. Hopeful moved beside him. He did not say Chris should not be afraid. He simply let him lean against him. Both boys were exhausted, and neither knew what tomorrow would bring.
After a long while, Hopeful spoke. “He wants us to write that we’ll stop waiting for help. That means he’s afraid of us going on waiting. Perhaps he knows this door won’t stay locked forever.”
Chris lifted his head. It was a small thought, but it made a little space in the dark room where other thoughts could enter.