Trolley to Yesterday (12 page)

When dawn came, they awoke to the sound of birds twittering in the trees. Massive oaks crowded around them, but the early daylight came slanting in through the leafy boughs. The professor rose. Quickly he shook the boys and hauled them to their feet. They complained sleepily, but the professor had a vague idea that they were near the Turkish camp. If that was so, they had better get away toward the seashore while they could. When he shielded his eyes and peered toward the rising sun, he could see open country beyond the trees. After ordering the boys to follow him and be silent, he crept cautiously forward till he stood at the edge of the forest. Beyond lay grassy hills, which sloped off toward a little river valley on the left. A few hundred yards away stood the walls of Constantinople. Here, on the land side, it was a triple wall—first a low breastwork, then a twenty-foot-high wall with towers, and finally a forty-foot-high wall with still more towers. The walks on top of the walls were thronged with soldiers, and flags flew from many of the towers. Peering far off to the left, the professor saw that the ground was black with soldiers. It looked as if the Turkish army was getting ready for an attack. Turning back, the professor glanced toward the rolling grassland that lay between him and the city walls. He had seen something out of the corner of his eye. He looked again, and his mouth dropped open. A man was strolling casually along. He wore a puffy purple hat and a red cloak, and he was carrying the professor's black-leather satchel. A sword in a black, silver-mounted scabbard was slung over his shoulder. It was Mr. Townsend, and he was heading for the city wails. He acted as if he did not have a care in the whole wide world.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

Fergie, Johnny, and the professor stared. They were utterly flabbergasted.

"Holy Mother Macree!" exclaimed the professor. "What on
earth
does that fool think he's doing? Come on! We've got to stop him before he gets himself killed!"

As Fergie and Johnny watched in horror, the professor bolted out of the clump of trees and began running toward Mr. Townsend. After glancing quickly at each other, the two boys began running too—there didn't seem to be anything else they could do. For an old man the professor could really scoot. Fergie caught up to him first, and he saw that the professor was holding Mr. Townsend by the arm and talking to him rapidly. The sword and the valise were lying on the ground nearby.

"... and so we've got to get back to the trees," the professor was saying as Fergie drew near. "The whole Turkish army is out there, and pretty soon they'll see us, if they haven't done so already. Come on! We have to go back!"

Mr. Townsend glowered at the professor. He set his feet stubbornly and refused to move. "Take your hands off me!" he said haughtily as he tried to shake his arm free from the professor's grip. "I am an admiral of Venice. The Emperor of Byzantium needs me, and I am going to his aid! I found an enchanted sword and this bag of enchanted objects in a half-ruined church near here. With these weapons we will beat back the enemy. I order you to let me go! If you do not, the wrath of Venice will fall on your head!" Once again Mr. Townsend tried to wriggle free, but the professor's grip was like iron—he would not let go.

As Mr. Townsend struggled, the professor turned and glanced helplessly at Fergie. "We've got a real problem on our hands, Byron!" he said. "Townsend has taken a nasty blow on the back of the head, and now he thinks he really
is
a Venetian admiral. I don't know what we are going to do, but we can't let him run off to his death. Thank God he brought the valise and the sword along— we might need them later on!"

Fergie looked into Mr. Townsend's eyes, and he saw that they were bleary. Under the rim of his hat was a sticky red mass of blood and hair. "Oh, great!" muttered Fergie disgustedly. "Just
great!"
All we need right now is somebody who is out of his jug! Here comes John! I think the four of us are gonna catch it, but good!"

Johnny ran, huffing and puffing, up to the other three. When the professor explained the situation to him, he was silent. Something like panic was growing in his mind—were they going to get out of this alive? It didn't seem likely.

Suddenly in the distance a wild yelling began. Trumpets brayed and drums boomed. A great mob of turbaned soldiers was moving toward them across the grassy plain. Banners waved in the breeze, and the morning sun glittered on a forest of spears and cruel curved swords.

The professor's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh my God!" he gasped. "It's the Turkish army! They're
attacking!.
And we can't go back to the well, because we're cut off! Come on, boys! We've got to reach the city walls before they do! It's our only chance! RUN!"

Letting go of Mr. Townsend's arm, the professor scooped up the sword and the valise. Then he began galloping madly toward the city walls. The boys pounded along behind him, but Mr. Townsend just stood there, glancing vaguely around, while the huge mob of soldiers got nearer. As he ran, Johnny looked behind him once or twice, but each time, he saw Mr. Townsend standing like a tree in the middle of the grassy field. On and on the three of them ran. They ran harder and faster than they had ever imagined they could, and the roaring army swept forward, a horrible human tidal wave. Like some huge object seen in a nightmare, the walls of Constantinople loomed closer and closer. All around them Johnny saw the wreckage left by the earlier attacks that the Turkish army had made—broken spears, an overturned wooden tower on wheels, and dead bodies. Mercifully Johnny did not have time to stop and stare at these things—he was too busy running for his life.

The three of them raced, while the frightful roaring of the soldiers got nearer and nearer. Once Johnny stumbled, but the professor immediately picked him up and hurried him on his way. If they reached a gate, would the people of Constantinople let them in, or would they think they were part of the attacking army? There was no time to think, only time to run, and as Johnny looked ahead through his fogged glasses, he saw another great wrecked siege tower. These tall wooden structures had been built so that the Turkish soldiers could climb up them and jump out onto the top of the city's walls. The defenders had sneaked out at night to burn this one, and it was just a mass of charred timbers. But why were they running toward it? Were they going to hide behind it? The professor was yelling to the boys, but his voice was lost in the loud noise that filled the air. Johnny saw a pit before him. He tried to stop, but the professor gave him a shove, and he went in headfirst, sliding and rolling down a long ramp of earth. Fergie came hurtling down after him, bumping Johnny to one side. Finally the professor jumped, bouncing along on his rear, with the sword in one hand and the valise in the other.

At the bottom of the pit Johnny closed his eyes and curled up into a ball. Any minute now soldiers would jump down into the pit and kill him. As he waited tensely, the yelling and braying of horns grew deafeningly loud, and then it died away. The army had gone on past.

"Holy H. Smoke!" sighed the professor as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "That was a close one! I thought those maniacs were going to turn us into chopped steak! Fortunately we found the entrance to a mine."

Johnny opened his eyes and sat up. They were squatting at the bottom of a deep shaft, but straight ahead the entrance to a low tunnel gaped. "Mine?" said Johnny in a puzzled tone. "What kind of mine?"

Fergie understood, and he grinned. "Oh, come on, John baby!" he said mockingly. "You've forgotten everything you ever read! This is one of those tunnels that they dig under the walls of a city during a siege. Then they stick in barrels of gunpowder and blow the wall sky high."

Johnny's fogged brain was slowly beginning to clear. "Oh... yeah," he said uncertainly. "Sure... I remember now. So what are we gonna do now? Hide down here till it gets dark again?"

The professor sighed and scratched the end of his nose. "We could do that," he said thoughtfully, "but it would be fairly risky. Sooner or later some Turkish soldier is going to come poking down this hole, and then goodbye to us! And even if that doesn't happen, we'd have to crawl back out and try to make our way past a lot of soldiers in order to get to the seacoast again. Even in the dark we might be spotted. And remember, we don't have a compass with us."

"Well, then, like John was saying, what are we gonna do?" asked Fergie grumpily. "Spend the rest of our lives down in this hole?"

The professor glared testily at Fergie. "No, we are not. I think we ought to see where this tunnel leads. If we get lucky, it might take us inside the walls of the city. From there we might find our way down to the docks and a ship that will take us back to Leander's Tower. And please don't get worried and think that I'll try to save the city with my flare gun—I just want to get us all back to Duston Heights in one piece!"

"That's a relief, I must say!" rasped Brewster, who had suddenly appeared in the darkness at the bottom of the pit. "This is definitely not a time for cheap heroics or daredevil stuff!"

"Thank you for your expert advice," growled the professor. "Would you care to lead the way?"

"I'll do what I can," said Brewster, "though it does seem to me that we have been spending a great deal of time underground."

They began to crawl down the low tunnel on their hands and knees. Brewster went first, casting a pinkish glow on the dank earthen walls. Then came the professor, shoving the satchel in front of him. Johnny clumped along next, with the professor's sword clutched awkwardly in one hand. Last came Fergie, with his switchblade knife held tight in his teeth. They crept on through the darkness, with only Brewster's pale glow for a guide. Finally they came to the place where the tunnel ended. It was a little room with dirt walls, a hollowed-out space where all of them could crouch together side by side. Overhead they saw the heavy foundation stones of a mighty wall. And in one corner stood three small wooden barrels. A small hole had been punched in the top of one, and a trail of black grains ran down the side of the barrel and across the dirt floor.

Johnny glanced nervously up at the heavy stones that seemed to hang perilously over his head. "Which wall do you think this is, professor?" he asked timidly.

The professor squinted. "I'd say it was the inner set of walls. They are the strongest and the thickest, and those stones up there are very, very thick. Hmm... I wonder why those barrels of gunpowder were never touched off? Maybe they lighted the trail of powder at the other end of the tunnel, and some dirt fell onto the powder halfway along and put out the fire. Well, I wonder if there is a way out of this end of the tunnel."

Taking the sword from Johnny, the professor hacked at the walls of the little room. In one place he found nothing but more dirt. But when he dug into the left-hand wall, the point of the sword struck something hard. Working quickly the professor cleared a space about a foot wide, and the boys saw a row of smaller stones that were held in place by mortar. With his mouth screwed into a stubborn frown, the professor hacked at the mortar until one of the stones was ready to come out. He pulled at it, and it moved easily. The mortar was crumbly and old. Beyond the stone was blackness and a heavy smell of mold.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

For several minutes the professor knelt there holding the stone he had pried out. It was about the size of a small loaf of bread, like all the stones in the wall. The pinkish glow cast by Brewster's magic light illuminated the professor's face, which showed that he was puzzled.

"So what is it, whiskers?" asked Brewster in his usual sarcastic tone. "Did you find an old tomb?"

"I was hoping that
you'd
have an answer for
me"
muttered the professor. "You always seem to know so much."

"You have an exaggerated idea of my knowledge," said Brewster sourly. "However, from the greenish gunk that is on one side of the stone you pulled out, I would say that you have broken into a water pipe of some sort. Perhaps—"

"Of
course!"
exclaimed the professor, snapping his fingers. "I remember now! There was an old water pipe here that ran from the aqueduct some emperor built. The pipe was replaced later when the walls were rebuilt during the reign of Theodosius II. If I am right, this pipe still runs down to a huge reservoir under the city walls. From there, maybe we can find our way up into the city."

"Not bad for an elderly crank," said Brewster. "Shall I go first and provide a little light?"

"Please do," said the professor. As the boys watched, the pinkish glow moved through the hole in the wall.

"P.U.!" exclaimed Brewster disgustedly. "It
stinks
in here! Are you sure you want to come in?"

"We
have
to!" said the professor. "Now kindly shut up while I do a little hacking."

Once again the professor jabbed at the mortar with the sword. Fergie helped as well as he could with his knife, and before long they were lifting another stone out, and then another, and yet another. At last there was a hole big enough for the professor to crawl through. He wriggled in, and Fergie came next. Last came Johnny, who was having trouble fighting down the panic that was rising inside him. He had always had a fear of being trapped in a small, shut-in space, and now that he had been in two underground tunnels in a short space of time, the fear had begun to grow. He had trouble breathing, and his heart was going like a triphammer. But he fought his feelings down and forced himself to follow the others into the foul-smelling pipe.

They crawled over slimy green stones. Far ahead Johnny could see the flickering pink glow of Brewster. For this he was very thankful. He thought of all the nightmares he had had about being buried alive, and he knew what he would feel like if he was in the dark. He could hear his breathing getting heavier and heavier, till it almost sounded like sobbing. Suddenly Fergie stopped and turned to glance back at him. "Are you okay, John baby?" he asked. He sounded worried.