27 - A Night in Terror Tower (8 page)

“Your questions cannot delay your fate,” he replied.

I stared hard at him, trying to study his face, searching for answers. But he
lowered the brim of the black hat, hiding his eyes from view.

“You’ve made a mistake!” I cried. “You’ve got the wrong girl! I don’t know
you! I don’t know anything!”

His smile faded. He shook his head. “Come with me now,” he said firmly.

“No!” I shrieked. “Not until you tell me who you are! Not until you tell me
where my brother is.”

Brushing his heavy cape back, he took another step toward me. His boots sank
heavily into the mud as he strode forward.

“I won’t come with you!” I screamed. My hands were still pressed hard against
my cheeks. My legs were shaking so much, I nearly sank to the ground.

I glanced around, getting ready to run.

Would my trembling legs carry me?

“Do not think of running away,” he said, as if reading my mind.

“But—but—” I sputtered.

“You will come with me now. It is time,” he said.

He strode forward quickly, raised his gloved hands, and grabbed me by both
shoulders.

I had no time to struggle. No time to try to break free.

The ground started to rumble.

I heard a groaning sound. A heavy slapping sound.

Another oxcart bounced around the corner. I saw the driver slap the ox with a
long rope.

The cart moved so fast. A blur of groaning animal and grinding wheels.

The black-caped man released his grasp and leaped back as the cart rolled at
us.

I saw his black hat fly off. Saw him stumble in the deep rut in the mud at
the side of the road. Saw him stagger back off-balance.

It was all the time I needed. I wheeled around and started to run. I bent low
as I ran, hiding beside the grunting, straining ox. Then I turned sharply and
dived between two small cottages.

I caught a glimpse of the black-caped man as I darted past the cottages. He
was bending to pick up his hat. His bald head shone like an egg in the sunlight.
He had no hair at all.

I was panting rapidly. My chest ached, and the blood throbbed at my temples.

Keeping low, I ran along the backs of the cottages. The green pasture
stretched to my left. Nowhere to hide there.

The cottages grew closer together. I heard crying children. A woman was
roasting some kind of blood-red sausage over a fire. She called out to me as I
ran past. But I didn’t slow down to reply.

Two scrawny black hounds came yapping after me, snapping at my legs. “Shoo!”
I cried. “Shoo! Go home!”

Glancing back, I could see the tall, dark figure gliding easily over the
grass, his cape sweeping up behind him.

He’s catching up, I realized.

I have to find a hiding place, I told myself. Now!

I ducked between two small shacks—and nearly ran into a large, red-haired
woman carrying a baby. The baby was swaddled in a heavy, gray blanket. Startled,
the woman squeezed the baby to her chest.

“You’ve got to hide me!” I cried breathlessly.

“Go away from here!” the woman replied. She seemed more frightened than
unfriendly.

“Please!” I begged. “He’s chasing me!” I pointed through the space between
the cottages.

We could both see the black-caped man running closer.

“Please! Don’t let him catch me!” I pleaded. “Hide me! Hide me!”

The woman had her eyes on the black-caped man. She turned to me and shrugged
her broad shoulders. “I cannot,” she said.

I let out a long sigh, a sigh of defeat. I knew I couldn’t run any further.

I knew the caped man would capture me easily.

The woman pressed the baby against the front of her black dress and turned to
watch the man run toward us.

“I—I’ll
pay
you!” I blurted out.

I suddenly remembered the coins in my pocket. The coins the taxi driver
refused to take.

Would the woman take them now?

I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out the coins. “Here!” I cried.
“Take them! Take them all! Just hide me—please!”

I jammed the coins into the woman’s free hand.

As she raised her hand to examine them, her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped
open.

She isn’t going to take them, either, I thought. She’s going to throw them
back at me as the taxi driver did.

But I was wrong.

“Gold sovereigns!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Gold sovereigns. I saw
one once when I was a little lass.”

“Will you take them? Will you hide me?” I pleaded.

She dropped the coins into her dress. Then she shoved me through the open
doorway of her little cottage.

It smelled of fish inside. I saw three cots on the floor beside a bare
hearth.

“Quick—into the kindling basket,” the woman instructed. “It’s empty.” She
pushed me again, toward a large straw box with a lid.

My heart pounding, I pushed up the lid and scrambled inside. The lid dropped
back down, covering me in darkness.

On my hands and knees, I crouched on the rough straw bottom of the box. I
struggled to stop panting, to stop my heart from thudding in my chest.

The woman had taken the coins gladly, I realized. She didn’t think they were
play money, as the taxi driver had said.

The coins are very old, I decided.

And then a chill ran down my trembling body. I suddenly knew why everything
looked so different—so old. We really have gone back in time, I told myself.

We are back in London hundreds of years ago.

The caped man brought us back here with those white stones. He thinks I am
someone else. He has been chasing me because he has mistaken me for someone else.

How do I make him see the truth? I wondered.

And how do I get out of the past, back to my real time?

I forced the questions from my mind—and listened.

I could hear voices outside the cottage. The woman’s voice. And then the
booming, deep voice of the black-caped man.

I held my breath so I could hear their words over the loud beating of my
heart.

“She is right in here, sire,” the woman said. I heard footsteps. And then
their voices became louder. Closer. They were standing beside my basket.

“Where is she?” the caped man demanded.

“I put her in this box for you, sire,” the woman replied. “She’s all wrapped
up for you. Ready for you to take her away.”

My heart jumped to my throat. In the blackness of the box, I suddenly saw
red.

That woman took my money, I thought angrily. And then she gave away my hiding
place.

How could she do that to me?

I was still crouched on my hands and knees. So angry. So terrified. My entire
body went numb, and I felt as if I would crumple to the basket floor in a heap.

Taking a deep breath, I twisted around and tried to push open the straw lid.

I let out a disappointed groan when it didn’t budge.

Was it clasped shut? Or was the caped man holding it down?

It didn’t matter. I was helpless. Trapped. I was his prisoner now.

The basket suddenly moved, knocking me against its side. I could feel it
sliding over the floor of the cottage.

“Hey—!” I cried out. But my voice was muffled in the tiny box. I lowered
myself to the rough straw floor, my heart pounding. “Let me out!”

The basket bounced again. Then I felt it slide some more.

“Lass! You—lass!” I lifted my head as I heard the woman whispering in to
me.

“I am so sorry,” she said. “I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive
me. But I dare not go against the Lord High Executioner.”

“What?” I cried. “What did you say?”

The basket slid faster. Bumped hard. Bumped again.

“What did you say?” I repeated frantically.

Silence now.

I did not hear her voice again.

A moment later, I heard the whinny of horses. I was tossed against one side,
then the other, as the basket was lifted up.

Soon after, the basket began to bounce and shake. And I heard the steady
clip-clop
of horses’ hooves.

A helpless prisoner inside the straw basket, I knew I was on some kind of
carriage or horse cart.

The Lord High Executioner?

Is that what the woman had said?

The shadowy man in the black cape and black hat—he is the Lord High
Executioner?

Inside my tiny, dark prison, I began to shudder. I could not stop the chills
that rolled down my back until my entire body felt cold and numb and tingly.

The Lord High Executioner.

The words kept repeating and repeating in my mind. Like a terrifying chant.

The Lord High Executioner.

And then I asked myself:
What does he want with me?

The wagon stopped with a jolt. Then, a minute or so later, started up again.

Bouncing around inside the basket, I lost all track of time.

Where is he taking me? I wondered. What does he plan to do?

And:
Why me?

My head hit the front of the basket as we jolted to another stop. I shivered.
My body was drenched in a cold sweat.

The air in the box had become sour. I began gasping for fresh air.

I let out a cry as the lid suddenly flew open. The harsh sunlight made me
shield my eyes.

“Remove her!” I heard the booming voice of the Executioner.

Strong arms grabbed me roughly and tugged me from the straw box. As my eyes
adjusted to the light, I saw that I was being lifted by two gray-uniformed
soldiers.

They set me on my feet. But my legs gave way, and I crumpled to the dirt.

“Stand her up,” the Executioner ordered. I gazed up into the sun at him. His
face was hidden once again in the shadow of his dark hat.

The soldiers bent to pick me up. Both of my legs had fallen asleep. My back
ached from being tossed and tumbled in the cramped box.

“Let me go!” I managed to cry. “Why are you doing this?”

The Executioner didn’t reply.

The soldiers held on to me until I could stand on my own.

“You’ve made a terrible mistake!” I told him, my voice trembling with anger,
with fear. “I don’t know why I am here or how I got here! But I am the wrong
girl! I am not who you think I am!”

Again, he did not reply. He gave a signal with one hand, and the guards took
my arms and turned me around.

And as I turned away from the Executioner, away from the sun, the dark castle
rose in front of me. I saw the wall, the courtyard, the dark, slender towers
looming up over the stone castle.

The Terror Tower!

He had brought me to the Terror Tower.

This is where Eddie and I had seen him for the first time. This is where the
Executioner had first chased after us.

In the twentieth century. In my time. In the time where I belonged. Hundreds of years in the future.

Somehow Eddie and I had been dragged back into the past, to a time where we
didn’t belong. And now Eddie was lost. And I was being led to the Terror Tower.

The Executioner led the way. The soldiers gripped my arms firmly, pulling me
through the courtyard toward the castle entrance.

The courtyard was jammed with silent, grim-looking people. Dressed in rags
and tattered, stained gowns, they stared at me as I was dragged past.

Some of them stood hunched like scarecrows, their eyes vacant, their faces
blank, as if their minds were somewhere else. Some sat and wept, or stared at
the sky.

A bare-chested old man sat under a tree frantically scratching his greasy
tangles of white hair with both hands. A young man pressed a filthy rag against
a deep cut in his dirt-caked foot.

Babies cried and wailed. Men and women sat in the dirt, moaning and muttering
to themselves.

These sad, filthy people were all prisoners, I realized. I remembered our
tour guide, Mr. Starkes, telling us that the castle had first been a fort, then
a prison.

I shook my head sadly, wishing I were back on the tour. In the future, in the
time where I belonged.

I didn’t have long to think about the prisoners. I was shoved into the
darkness of the castle. Dragged up the twisting stone steps.

The air felt wet and cold as I climbed. A heavy chill seemed to rise up the
stairs with me.

“Let me go!” I screamed. “Please—let me go!”

The soldiers shoved me against the stone wall when I tried to pull free.

I cried out helplessly and tried again to tug myself loose. But they were too
big, too strong.

The stone stairs curved round and around. We passed the cell on the narrow
landing. Glancing toward it, I saw that it was jammed with prisoners. They stood
in silence against the bars, their faces yellow and expressionless. Many of them
didn’t even look up as I passed.

Up the steep, slippery stairs.

Up to the dark door at the top of the tower.

“No—please!” I begged. “This is all wrong! All wrong!”

But they slid the heavy metal bolt on the door and pulled the door open.

A hard shove from behind sent me sprawling into the tiny tower room. I
stumbled to the floor, landing on my elbows and knees.

I heard the heavy door slam behind me. Then I heard the bolt sliding back
into place.

Locked in.

I was locked in the tiny cell at the top of the Terror Tower.

“Sue!” A familiar voice called my name.

I raised myself to my knees. Glanced up. “Eddie!” I cried happily. “Eddie—how did you get here?”

My little brother had been sitting on the floor against the wall. Now he
scrambled over to me and helped me to my feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Are
you
okay?”

“I guess,” he replied. He had a long dirt smear down one side of his face.
His dark hair was matted wetly against his forehead. His eyes were red-rimmed
and frightened.