27 - A Night in Terror Tower (2 page)

“Fastest hands on Earth!” he bragged, waving the camera at me.

I grabbed it away from him. “You’re obnoxious,” I told him.

I don’t know why he enjoys being a thief so much. But he really is good at
it. When he slid that camera from my coat pocket, I didn’t feel a thing.

I started to tell him to keep his hands off my camera. But Mr. Starkes
motioned for the group to follow him into the next room.

As Eddie and I hurried to keep up, I glimpsed at the man in the black cape.
He was lumbering up behind us, his face still hidden under the wide brim of his
hat.

I felt a stab of fear in my chest. Was the strange man watching Eddie and me?
Why?

No. He was probably just another tourist visiting the Tower. So why did I
have the frightening feeling he was following us?

I kept glancing back at him as Eddie and I studied the displays of torture
devices in the next room. The man didn’t seem interested in the displays at all.
He kept near the wall, his black cape fading into the deep shadows, his eyes
straight ahead—on us!

“Look at these!” Eddie urged, pushing me toward a display shelf. “What are
these?”

“Thumbscrews,” Mr. Starkes replied, stepping up behind us. He picked one up.
“It looks like a ring,” he explained. “See? It slides down over your thumb like
this.”

He slid the wide metal ring over his thumb. Then he raised his hand so we
could see clearly. “There is a screw in the side of the ring. Turn the screw, and it digs its way into your thumb. Keep turning it, and it digs
deeper and deeper.”

“Ouch!” I declared.

“Very nasty,” Mr. Starkes agreed, setting the thumbscrew back on the display
shelf. “This is a whole room of very nasty items.”

“I can’t believe people were actually tortured with this stuff,” Eddie
murmured. His voice trembled. He really didn’t like scary things—especially
when they were real.

“Wish I had a pair of these to use on
you
!” I teased. Eddie is such a
wimp. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I have to give him a hard time.

I reached behind the rope barrier and picked up a pair of metal handcuffs.
They were heavier than I imagined. And they had a jagged row of metal spikes all
around on the inside.

“Sue—put those down!” Eddie whispered frantically.

I slipped one around my wrist. “See, Eddie, when you clamp it shut, the
jagged spikes cut into your wrist,” I told him.

I let out a startled gasp as the heavy metal cuff clicked shut.

“Ow!” I screamed, tugging frantically at it. “Eddie—help! I can’t get it
off! It’s cutting me! It’s cutting me!”

“Ohhhh.” A horrified moan escaped Eddie’s throat as he gaped at the cuff
around my wrist. His mouth dropped open, and his chin started to quiver.

“Help me!” I wailed, thrashing my arm frantically, tugging at the chain. “Get
me out of this!”

Eddie turned as white as a ghost.

I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. I started to laugh. And I slid
the handcuff off my wrist.

“Gotcha back!” I jeered. “That’s for stealing my camera. Now we’re even!”

“I—I—I—” Eddie sputtered. His dark eyes glowered at me angrily. “I
really thought you were hurt,” he muttered. “Don’t do that again, Sue. I mean
it.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. I know it wasn’t very mature. My brother
doesn’t always bring out the best in me.

“Follow me, please!” Mr. Starkes’ voice echoed off the stone walls. Eddie and
I moved closer as our tour group huddled around Mr. Starkes.

“We’re going to climb the stairs to the north tower now,” the tour guide
announced. “As you will see, the stairs are quite narrow and steep. So we will
have to go single file. Please watch your step.”

Mr. Starkes ducked his bald head as he led the way through a low, narrow
doorway. Eddie and I were at the end of the line.

The stone stairs twisted up the Tower like a corkscrew. There was no
handrailing. And the stairs were so steep and so twisty, I had to hold on to the
wall to keep my balance as I climbed.

The air grew warmer as we made our way higher. So many feet had climbed these
ancient stones, the stairs were worn smooth, the edges round.

I tried to imagine prisoners being marched up these stairs to the Tower.
Their legs must have trembled with fear.

Up ahead, Eddie made his way slowly, peering up at the soot-covered stone
walls. “It’s too dark,” he complained, turning back to me. “Hurry up, Sue. Don’t
get too far behind.”

My coat brushed against the stone wall as I climbed. I’m pretty skinny, but
the stairway was so narrow, I kept bumping the sides.

After climbing for what seemed like hours, we stopped on a landing. Straight
ahead of us was a small dark cell behind metal bars.

“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.

“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 off 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.