“This is a cell in which political prisoners were held,” Mr. Starkes told us. “Enemies of the king were brought here. You can see it was not the most comfortable place in the world.”
Moving closer, I saw that the cell contained only a small stone bench and a wooden writing table.
“What happened to these prisoners?” a white-haired woman asked Mr. Starkes. “Did they stay in this cell for years and years?”
“No,” Mr. Starkes replied, rubbing his chin. “Most of them were beheaded.”
I felt a chill at the back of my neck. I stepped up to the bars and peered into the small cell.
Real people stood inside this cell, I thought. Real people held on to these bars and stared out. Sat at that little writing table. Paced back and forth in that narrow space. Waiting to meet their fate.
Swallowing hard, I glanced at my brother. I could see that he was just as horrified as I was.
“We have not reached the top of the Tower yet,” Mr. Starkes announced. “Let us continue our climb.”
The stone steps became steeper as we made our way up the curving stairway. I trailed my hand along the wall as I followed Eddie up to the top.
And as I climbed, I suddenly had the strangest feeling—that I had been here before. That I had followed the twisting stairs. That I had climbed to the top of this ancient tower before.
Of course, that was impossible.
Eddie and I had never been to England before in our lives.
The feeling stayed with me as our tour group crowded into the tiny chamber at the top. Had I seen this tower in a movie? Had I seen pictures of it in a magazine?
Why did it look so familiar to me?
I shook my head hard, as if trying to shake away the strange, troubling thoughts. Then I stepped up beside Eddie and gazed around the tiny room.
A small round window high above our heads allowed a wash of gloomy gray light to filter down over us. The rounded walls were bare, lined with cracks and dark stains. The ceiling was low, so low that Mr. Starkes and some of the other adults had to duck their heads.
“Perhaps you can feel the sadness in this room,” Mr. Starkes said softly.
We all huddled closer to hear him better. Eddie stared up at the window, his expression solemn.
“This is the tower room where a young prince and princess were brought,” Mr. Starkes continued, speaking solemnly. “It was the early fifteenth century. The prince and princess—Edward and Susannah of York—were locked in this tiny tower cell.”
He waved the red pennant in a circle. We all followed it, gazing around the small, cold room. “Imagine. Two children. Grabbed away from their home. Locked away in the drab chill of this cell in the top of a tower.” Mr. Starkes’ voice remained just above a whisper.
I suddenly felt cold. I zipped my coat back up. Eddie had his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. His eyes grew wide with fear as he gazed around the tiny, dark room.
“The prince and princess weren’t up here for long,” Mr. Starkes continued, lowering the pennant to his side. “That night while they slept, the Lord High Executioner and his men crept up the stairs. Their orders were to smother the two children. To keep the prince and princess from ever taking the throne.”
Mr. Starkes shut his eyes and bowed his head. The silence in the room seemed to grow heavy.
No one moved. No one spoke.
The only sound was the whisper of wind through the tiny window above our heads.
I shut my eyes, too. I tried to picture a boy and a girl. Frightened and alone. Trying to sleep in this cold, stone room.
The door bursts open. Strange men break in. They don’t say a word. They rush to smother the boy and girl.
Right in this room.
Right where I am standing now, I thought.
I opened my eyes. Eddie was gazing at me, his expression troubled. “This is… really scary,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Mr. Starkes started to tell us more.
But the camera fell out of my hand. It clattered noisily on the stone floor. I bent to pick it up. “Oh, look, Eddie—the lens broke!” I cried.
“Ssshhh! I missed what Mr. Starkes said about the prince and princess!” Eddie protested.
“But my camera—!” I shook it. I don’t know why. It’s not like shaking it would help fix the lens.
“What did he say? Did you hear?” Eddie demanded.
I shook my head. “Sorry. I missed it.”
We walked over to a low cot against the wall. A three-legged wooden stool stood beside it. The only furniture in the chamber.
Did the prince and princess sit here? I wondered.
Did they stand on the bed and try to see out the window?
What did they talk about? Did they wonder what was going to happen to them? Did they talk about the fun things they would do when they were freed? When they returned home?
It was all so sad, so horribly sad.
I stepped up to the cot and rested my hand on it. It felt hard.
Black markings on the wall caught my eye. Writing?
Had the prince or the princess left a message on the wall?
I leaned over the cot and squinted at the markings.
No. No message. Just cracks in the stone.
“Sue—come on,” Eddie urged. He tugged my arm.
“Okay, okay,” I replied impatiently. I ran my hand over the cot again. It felt so lumpy and hard, so uncomfortable.
I gazed up at the window. The gray light had darkened to black. Dark as night out there.
The stone walls suddenly seemed to close in on me. I felt as if I were in a dark closet, a cold, frightening closet. I imagined the walls squeezing in, choking me, smothering me.
Is that how the prince and princess felt?
Was I feeling the same fear they had known over five hundred years ago?
With a heavy sigh, I let go of the cot and turned to Eddie. “Let’s get out of here,” I said in a trembling voice. “This room is just too frightening, too sad.”
We turned away from the cot, took a few steps toward the stairs—and stopped.
“Hey—!” We both cried out in surprise.
Mr. Starkes and the tour group had disappeared.
6
“Where did they go?” Eddie cried in a shrill, startled voice. “They left us here!”
“They must be on their way back down the stairs,” I told him. I gave him a gentle push. “Let’s go.”
Eddie lingered close to me. “You go first,” he insisted quietly.
“You’re not scared—are you?” I teased. “All alone in the Terror Tower?”
I don’t know why I enjoy teasing my little brother so much. I knew he was scared. I was a little scared, too. But I couldn’t help it.
As I said, Eddie doesn’t always bring out the best in me.
I led the way to the twisting stairs. As I peered down, they seemed even darker and steeper.
“Why didn’t we hear them leave?” Eddie demanded. “Why did they leave so fast?”
“It’s late,” I told him. “I think Mr. Starkes was eager to get everyone on the bus and back to their hotels. The Tower closes at five, I think.” I glanced at my watch. It was five-twenty.
“Hurry,” Eddie pleaded. “I don’t want to be locked in. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Me, too,” I confessed.
Squinting into the darkness, I started down the steps. My sneakers slid on the smooth stone. Once again, I pressed one hand against the wall. It helped me keep my balance on the curving stairs.
“Where are they?” Eddie demanded nervously. “Why can’t we hear the others on the stairs?”
The air grew cooler as we climbed lower. A pale yellow light washed over the landing just below us.
My hand swept through something soft and sticky. Cobwebs.
Yuck.
I could hear Eddie’s rapid breathing behind me. “The bus will wait for us,” I told him. “Just stay calm. Mr. Starkes won’t drive of
f without us.”
“Is anybody down there?” Eddie screamed. “Can anybody hear me?”
His shrill voice echoed down the narrow stone stairwell.
No reply.
“Where are the guards?” Eddie demanded.
“Eddie—please don’t get worked up,” I pleaded. “It’s late. The guards are probably closing up. Mr. Starkes will be waiting for us down there. I promise you.”
We stepped into the pale light of the landing.
The small cell we had seen before stood against the wall.
“Don’t stop,” Eddie pleaded, breathing hard. “Keep going, Sue. Hurry!”
I put my hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Eddie, we’ll be fine,” I said soothingly. “We’re almost down to the ground.”
“But, look—” Eddie protested. He pointed frantically.
I saw at once what was troubling him. There were two stairways leading down—one to the left of the cell, and one to the right.
“That’s strange,” I uttered, glancing from one to the other. “I don’t remember a second stairway.”
“Wh-which one is the right one?” he stammered.
I hesitated. “I’m not sure,” I replied. I stepped over to the one on the right and peered down. I couldn’t see very far because it curved so sharply.
“Which one? Which one?” Eddie repeated.
“I don’t think it matters,” I told him. “I mean, they both lead down—right?”
I motioned for him to follow me. “Come on. I think this is the one we took when we were climbing up.”
I took one step down.
Then stopped.
I heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Coming up the stairs.
Eddie grabbed my hand. “Who’s that?” he whispered.
“Probably Mr. Starkes,” I told him. “He must be coming back up to get us.”
Eddie breathed a long sigh of relief.
“Mr. Starkes—is that you?” I called down.
Silence. Except for the approaching footsteps.
“Mr. Starkes?” I called in a tiny voice.
When the dark figure appeared on the stairway below, I could see at once that it wasn’t our tour guide.
“Oh!” I uttered a startled cry as the huge man in the black cape stepped into view.
His face was still hidden in darkness. But his eyes glowed like burning coals as he glared up at Eddie and me from under the black, wide-brimmed hat.
“Is—is this the way down?” I stammered.
He didn’t reply.
He didn’t move. His eyes burned into mine.
I struggled to see his face. But he kept it hidden in the shadow of the hat, pulled low over his forehead.
I took a deep breath and tried again. “We got separated from our group,” I said. “They must be waiting for us. Is—is this the way down?”
Again, he didn’t reply. He glared up at us menacingly.
He’s so big, I realized. He blocks the entire stairway.
“Sir—?” I started. “My brother and I—”
He raised a hand. A huge hand, covered in a black glove.
He pointed up at us.
“You will come with me now,” he growled.
I just stared at him. I didn’t understand.
“You will come now,” he repeated. “I do not want to hurt you. But if you try to escape, I will have no choice.”
7
Eddie let out a sharp gasp.
My mouth dropped open as the man edged closer.
And then I realized who he was. “You’re a guard here—right?” I asked.
He didn’t reply.
“You—you scared me,” I said, letting out a shrill laugh. “I mean, that costume and everything. You work here—right?”
He stepped forward, bringing his black-gloved hands up in front of him, moving the fingers.
“I’m sorry we’re here so late,” I continued. “We lost our group. I guess you want to close up so you can go home.”
He took another step closer. His eyes flared darkly. “You know why I am here,” he snarled.
“No. I don’t. I—” My words were cut off as he grabbed me by the shoulder.
“Hey—let go of her!” Eddie cried.
But the caped man grabbed my brother, too.
His gloved fingers dug sharply into my shoulder. “Hey—!” I cried out in pain.
He backed us against the cold stone wall.
I caught a glimpse of his face, a hard, angry face. A long, sharp nose, thin lips twisted in a snarl. And the eyes. The cold, glowing eyes.
“Let us go!” Eddie demanded bravely.
“We have to meet our group!” I told the man shrilly. “We’re leaving now. You can’t keep us here!”
He ignored our pleas. “Do not move,” he uttered in a low growl. “Stand there. Do not try to escape.”
“Listen, sir—if we’ve done something wrong…” My voice trailed off.
I watched him reach into the folds of his black cape. He struggled for a moment, then pulled something out.
At first I thought they were rubber balls. Three of them.
But as he clicked them together, I realized he was holding smooth, white stones.
What is going on here? I asked myself.
Is he crazy?
Crazy and dangerous?
“Listen, sir—” Eddie started. “We have to go now.”
“Don’t move!” the caped man screamed. He shoved his cape violently behind him. “Don’t move—and don’t make a sound. You have my final warning!”
Eddie and I exchanged frightened glances. My back against the stone wall, I tried edging slowly toward the nearest stairway.
Mumbling to himself, the man concentrated on the three smooth white stones. He piled one on top of the other.
He let out an angry cry as one of the stones fell to the floor. It bounced once and slid across the smooth floor.
This is our chance! I thought.
I shoved Eddie toward the other stairwell. “Run!” I screamed.
8
“Do not move!” the man bellowed, grabbing up the stone. He had a booming voice that thundered off the stone walls. “I warned you. You cannot escape me!”
My brother’s eyes were bugging out of his head. But he didn’t have to be told twice to run!
“Stop!” the caped man bellowed. The booming voice followed us as we scrambled down, stumbling on the twisting, curving stairs, our hands trailing against the cold stone of the tower wall.
Down, down.
Turning so fast, my head spun. But I squinted into the dim light and forced myself not to be dizzy, not to fall, not to give in to the terror that rose up over me.
My camera fell out of my coat pocket. It clattered down the stairs. I didn’t stop to pick it up. It was broken, anyway.
“Keep going,” I urged Eddie. “Keep going! We’re almost out of here!”
Or were we?
The climb down seemed so much longer.
Our sneakers slapped against the stone steps. But even louder were the heavy footsteps of the caped man behind us. His bellowed cries boomed down the narrow tower, echoed all around us—as if we were being chased by a hundred frightening men instead of one.
Who is he?
Why is he chasing us?
Why is he so angry?
The questions bounced through my mind as I scrambled frantically down, following the twisting stairs.
No time for answers.
The big, gray door rose up in front of us before we could stop.
Eddie and I both ran right into it.
“The exit! We—we’re here!” I stammered. I could hear the rumble of the man’s footsteps above us on the stairway. Coming closer. Closer.
We’re out! I thought. We’re safe!
Eddie shoved the door hard with his shoulder. Shoved it again.
He turned to me, his chin quivering in fright. “It’s locked. We’re locked in!”
“No!” I screamed. “P
ush!”
We both lowered our shoulders and pushed with all our strength.
No.
The door didn’t budge.
The man lumbered closer. So close, we could hear his muttered words.
We’re trapped, I realized.
He’s caught us.
Why does he want us? What is he going to do?
“One more try,” I managed to choke out.
Eddie and I turned back to the door.
“Stay there!” the caped man commanded.
But Eddie and I gave the door one more desperate shove.
And it finally moved, scraping the stone floor as it slid open partway.
Eddie sucked in his breath and pushed through the opening first. Then I squeezed through.
Panting hard, we shoved the door shut behind us. The door had a long metal bar on the outside. I slid it all the way, bolting it. Locking the caped man inside.
“We’re safe!” I cried, spinning away from the door.
But we weren’t outside. We were in a huge, dark room.
And a cruel voice—in the room with us—a man’s voice, laughing softly—told me that we weren’t out of trouble.
9
The laughter rose up in front of us, making us both gasp.
“You have entered the king’s dungeon. Abandon all hope,” the man declared.
“Who—who are you?” I cried.
But more laughter was the only reply.
A single beam of pale green light from the low ceiling broke the darkness. Huddled close to Eddie, I squinted in the eerie glow, desperate to find a way to escape.
“Over there! Look!” Eddie whispered, pointing.
Across the room, I could see a barred cell against the wall.
We crept forward a few steps. Then we saw it.
A bony hand reaching out from between the bars.
“No!” I gasped.
Eddie and I jumped back.
The pounding on the door behind us made us both jump again. “You cannot escape!” the caped man raged from the other side of the door.
Eddie grabbed my hand as the man furiously pounded on the door. The sound boomed louder than thunder.
Would the bolt hold?
Ahead of us, two bony hands reached out from another dungeon cell.