Escapes! (8 page)

They stood together before the closed door, blocking the rest of the room from view. Winifred turned to William and raised her eyebrows.

He nodded and pressed the handkerchief to his face. As Winifred pulled the door open, William began to make loud sobbing noises. Holding his hand, Winifred stepped out and guided William through the doorway.

The murmurs in the guardroom died down as they appeared.

“Evans has ruined me by her delay!” Winifred said for all to hear. “How could she do this to me?”

They started walking, past the guards and their wives. Only their footsteps and William's sobs broke the silence. The guardroom seemed endless, and Winifred felt the ladies' curious eyes boring into them. Was she walking too quickly, too suspiciously? She took deep breaths to slow her racing heartbeat.

“My dear Mrs. Betty,” she said to William, her voice catching and sounding tearful, “for the love of God run quickly, and bring her with you. You know my lodging, and if you ever hurried in your life, do it now. I am almost distracted with this disappointment.”

They were halfway there now. William kept his face buried in the handkerchief, his head turned into Winifred's shoulder.

At the far end of the room servants were starting to light the candles. Winifred held her breath — a moment more and the room would be brilliantly lit. She picked up her pace.

Not so fast, she scolded herself. The heavy oak door was right before them now. Only a few steps more.

Suddenly a guard sprang forward, blocking their way. Winifred stopped in her tracks, and tightened her grip on William. She felt the blood drain from her face. They were trapped!

The guard bowed slightly and opened the door for them, his face full of sympathy. Winifred tried to hide her relief. She began to steer William through the door toward the long staircase flanked by sentinels. Not far now.

As William passed before her through the door she nearly gasped in horror. He was walking like a man! Dress or no dress, it was a miracle no one had noticed before now. She grasped him by the elbow and pushed him in front of her. They moved forward awkwardly, with Winifred's wide skirt hiding William's masculine walk from the sentries.

Past the guards, down the stairs, on and on Winifred begged anxiously — “Please hurry and send my maid.” All the while, William cried loudly in his handkerchief, never daring to raise his eyes and counting on Winifred to steer him. The sentries stood aside to make way for them, the sympathy on their faces turning to exasperation.

All these women, all this weeping and calling after maids. Such a ruckus — there must have been three or four of them at least — or was it more? They felt sorry enough for the ladies, but this was getting tiresome. If only they would just leave!

At the bottom of the stairs stood Evans, and the sight of her loyal face steadied Winifred's nerves. She handed William over, and Evans led him across the green toward the outer gate.

Outside the Tower walls, Mrs. Mills's husband was waiting for them. His wife had convinced him to help by having a safe house ready for the fugitive, but he had doubted very much that the women would succeed.

Now, there they were — Evans and Lord Nithsdale coming toward him through the archway! Mr. Mills was so astonished that he forgot what he was supposed to do. Surprise and joy crowded out every other thought, and he stood rooted to the ground, gaping. A few passersby slowed down and stared curiously at the group.

Glancing around, Evans saw the attention they were attracting. Time to take things firmly in hand, she thought.

Hailing a coach, the maid quickly pushed William inside and climbed in after him. She could sort things out with Mr. Mills later! Now they had to put as much distance between themselves and the Tower as they could.

Winifred walked slowly back up the steps and through the guardroom toward William's empty chamber. She had a final role to play out inside the Tower. She must buy time for William to get away — before the guards raised the alarm, before searchers flooded the streets and gave chase.

Again the warder politely let her into William's room. Winifred watched the door close behind her. She took a deep breath and began to talk to William as if he were still there. She paced up and down — as if they were walking together — to make it more convincing.

A sudden thought made her heart jump. They might wonder why they could hear her, but not him! She began to answer her own questions in his deep, quiet voice. All the while her mind was calculating — have they had enough time to clear the guards, cross the Tower green, and slip through the outer gate?

She kept up the illusion as long as she dared, then glanced outside at the dark night. It was time to make her exit as well.

Slowly she opened the door. Standing halfway out so that the guards could hear her words, but holding the door so close that they could not see inside the room, she bid farewell to her husband.

“Something unusual must have happened to keep Evans,” she said. “She has always been faithful in even the smallest matters. But I can afford to wait no longer.”

The guards kept their eyes discreetly lowered as she talked.

“I will go directly to the king now,” Winifred said reassuringly. “My task completed, if I can still gain admittance to the Tower, I will see you tonight. But if I cannot, do not worry, my love. I will be here tomorrow morning as early as they will let me in. With good news, I trust,” she added, smiling bravely.

Just before shutting the door, Winifred pulled through the string of the latch. Now it can only be opened from the inside, she thought with satisfaction, and there's no one there to do that! She gave the handle a sharp tug and slammed the heavy door firmly shut.

Turning to leave, she looked up and started in surprise. A servant was heading straight for her. He was carrying William's supper on a tray!

“My lord is praying now,” she said quickly, stepping in the servant's way, “and does not wish to be disturbed. He has no need of supper or candles — he plans to fast until his pardon arrives.” The servant nodded and turned away.

With a sigh of relief, the sentries watched Lady Nithsdale pass down the stairs and out into the night.

A few days later Lord Nithsdale escaped to Italy disguised as a servant on the Venetian ambassador's boat. Lady Nithsdale mounted her horse and rode back to Scotland, where she dug up the deeds for their lands. It was a risky journey for her. King George was furious about Lord Nithsdale's escape, and search parties combed the country for Winifred. The king swore that Lady Nithsdale “had given him more trouble than any woman in the whole of Europe!” But Winifred slipped through the searchers' fingers and joined her husband in Rome, where they lived near the court of the exiled Stuart family for the rest of their lives.

Fugitives in Iran

Tehran, Iran, 1979

T
HE CHANTING HAD DRONED IN THE DISTANCE
since early that gray November morning. Crowds of student protesters were a daily sight outside the walls of the American embassy compound in Iran's capital. But now the voices were getting louder, sounding closer.

Set back from the main entrance, the fourteen Americans in the consulate building felt far away from the noise. They ignored the angry shouts and kept working, processing applications from Iranians for visas to study or travel in the U.S. The protest was not their concern, and no doubt the police would soon break it up. But a panicked cry from an Iranian secretary destroyed their illusion of security.

“They're inside the walls!”

Staff rushed to the window. The students had broken the main gate and were streaming into the compound. The grounds were filling up with people — young men in khaki fatigues, women in head scarves or the full-length black
chador
that covered them from head to foot. Some carried pictures of their spiritual and political leader, the Ayatollah Khomeini, on poles. Others were armed with knives, lead pipes, or guns.

“Stay calm.” From behind, the voice of Sergeant Lopez, a young marine, sounded reassuring. “It could just be a sit-in protest.”

They had all known something like this was bound to happen. Since the Shah, Iran's former ruler, had fled his country, Iranian revolutionaries had shown more and more resentment toward his American allies. The return of the exiled Ayatollah Khomeini — an Islamic scholar who believed the country should be run by clerics — had focused people's anger into a full-fledged revolution.

Walking through the city, the American diplomats had sensed the growing fear and suspicion — especially toward them. What were these foreigners doing in Iran anyway, the revolutionaries demanded. Trying to run our country for us? When President Carter had allowed the Shah into the U.S. for treatment at a hospital, tensions had reached a boiling point.

The sound of footsteps on the roof made everyone tilt their heads up. Seconds later they heard a window shatter in the washroom. Lopez rushed there just in time to push back a student trying to climb in from the roof. The marine fired a tear-gas canister out the window. Retreating quickly, he then wired the washroom door shut with a coat hanger and herded the staff and Iranian visitors further back into the building.

“How can this be happening? They can't do this to an embassy! We're diplomats,” sputtered the shocked employees. The Vienna Convention of 1961 was supposed to guarantee the protection of ambassadors and their staff in foreign countries. The embassy and its grounds belonged to the U.S., and could not be entered without permission.

“Can't you guys do something?” someone asked the marine. Lopez shrugged. The guards were there to defend the staff, not attack anyone. It was another rule of diplomacy: embassies must count on the host government to protect them. “I can't fire on citizens of this country,” he explained, “unless someone's life is in immediate danger.”

Robert Anders, the senior diplomat in the building, took charge. “We'll barricade the doors and hold out until the police or the army arrives to restore order,” he announced.