The Sorcerer's Letterbox Page 2

Gloucester, Jack thought. The name was familiar from his history book, but he couldn’t remember the details.

  “I have heard terrible stories about my uncle. He cruelly executed prisoners who surrendered during the wars. My mother has taken sanctuary with the nuns at Westminster Abbey, along with my brother Richard and my sisters.”

  “So your brother’s safe?”

  “Even my uncle dare not harm him in Westminster Abbey. Yet as long as Richard is alive, the bloodline of my father will continue to be a thorn in my uncle’s side. I have less fear for my own life while my brother lives.”

  Suddenly, they heard the clatter of boots out in the stone corridor.

  “Who are you talking to? Who’s in there with you?” boomed a voice.

  The two boys looked at each other in terror as someone jangled keys outside the door.

  “The guards!” Edward whispered. “You must hide.”

  He pushed Jack in the direction of a large tapestry hanging on the far wall. Jack leapt behind it, opened the lid of the box and turned the wheel counter-clockwise. But it wouldn’t move. In desperation, he turned the wheel in the opposite direction, and the room in the Tower disappeared.

  As the familiar surroundings of his bedroom shimmered into view, Jack saw that the clock read 9:32.

  I’ve only been gone a minute, Jack thought. Unbelievable!

  Jack put the letterbox down on the desk, reached for his history book and thumbed through the pages again. There was a portrait of Edward. Jack noted his resemblance to the young king. Jack was missing the small mole Edward had on his cheek, but they both had the same pale-blue eyes.

  Turning to the next page, Jack discovered that Edward had never been crowned king. He and his brother had disappeared after the coronation of Richard III. The two boys were simply never heard from again.

  Jack heard a voice behind him. “The box works, doesn’t it? You met King Edward, didn’t you?”

  The Mission

  IV

  Jack turned around in his chair and was shocked to see the old man from the antique shop standing by the window. However, this time he was wearing a dark robe.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “I am here to ensure that you carry out your mission to save the true king of England.”

  “How did you get into my room?”

  “That is unimportant. You have seen for yourself that the princes are in grave danger.”

  The old man gestured toward the box on the desk.

  “You are the princes’ only hope now. You look exactly like Edward. You can save him if you act now.”

  “But how can I do that? Why don’t you rescue him yourself?” Jack asked.

  “I have already played my part, and now it is up to you to play yours.”

  “But why me?”

  “The choice is yours, Jack. My time is over. Now I must leave this world.”

  As the old man finished speaking, he began to fade away before Jack’s eyes.

  “Wait!” Jack gasped. “What should I do?”

  “You have got to go back and help them, Jack.”

  Just then Jack heard his father’s car pull up in the driveway. As he flipped open the lid of the box, Jack heard a voice: “His fate is in your hands, Jack. Prove yourself worthy.”

  Taking a deep breath, Jack turned the wheel, and his bedroom rapidly faded from view.

  He reappeared in the Tower, behind the tapestry.

  “You can come out now. The guards have left,” Edward said, holding the tapestry aside.

  Edward shifted his gaze and stared open-mouthed at the box Jack still held in his hand.

  “My box! You stole it!” Edward exclaimed, lunging and snatching the box from Jack’s grasp.

  “The paintings are so faded. What has happened to it?” Edward asked. “And what is this wheel doing inside?”

  “Don’t touch that!” yelled Jack.

  Before Jack could grab the box, Edward had turned the wheel and vanished.

  Uncle Richard

  V

  This is a disaster! thought Jack. Edward has my box. I’ll be stranded here in the past if I don’t get it back again.

  He dashed over to the window and took a deep breath of fresh air to clear his mind. Outside, the trees were in full bloom, bathed in brilliant sunshine. It was the height of summer. Beyond the Tower’s outer wall was the river, spanned by London Bridge.

  Jack looked down and saw a group of men on horseback draw to a halt.

  “Who goes there?” demanded a guard.

  “The duke of Gloucester,” barked one of the men. “Step aside, if you value your head. We come to see the king.”

  With a muttered apology, the guard stepped to one side.

  I’ve got to do something fast, thought Jack.

  Looking around the room, he spotted a large wooden chest beside the bed. He threw it open, found some clothes and quickly exchanged them for his own. Staring at himself in the mirror by the bed, he was pleased to see that he really did look like King Edward.

  But my hair’s a bit shorter, he thought.

  Fumbling through the trunk, he grabbed a hat. He managed to put it on just before a key turned in the lock of the heavy oak door.

  Two men entered the room.

  “Your Majesty,” said the shorter of the men, bowing.

  Then he snapped, “Leave us, Tyrell!”

  The taller man quickly bowed and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

  “So, Edward, I trust you are comfortable?”

  Jack backed away as the man approached.

  This must be the duke of Gloucester, thought Jack.

  Gloucester stooped a little. He wore a hat that resembled a beret, with a jewelled brooch pinned to the front of it. Around his shoulders was a velvet cloak. Jack noticed that Gloucester kept one arm completely hidden under the cloak.

  “Come now, Edward,” Gloucester purred, his thin mouth forming a smile that made Jack’s skin crawl. “Do you fear me?”

  Jack stared at him.

  “Perhaps you should,” Gloucester continued. “Your mother’s actions have left me little choice. She continues to plot against me. Even now she pleads with the king of France to invade England, the traitorous witch! She keeps your brother safe, or so she thinks. But not for long.”

  As Gloucester began to pace the room, Jack remained where he was, hoping the duke wouldn’t get too close.

  As long as I keep quiet, Jack thought, I might just pull this off.

  “You are illegitimate!” Gloucester ranted. “Parliament will support me. Everyone knows we cannot have a boy king after so many years of war. Yet still they scheme. In this week alone there have been three plots to free you from here. And there are countless rumours of your escape. While you live, you are a threat to me.”

  A terrifying thought ran through Jack’s mind. I could be killed in Edward’s place! Jack shivered. And no one would ever know who I really was.

  “Are you even attending to me, boy?” growled Gloucester, glaring menacingly at Jack from across the room.

  As Gloucester moved toward him, Jack instinctively backed away, almost to the window. Gloucester pulled a dagger from his belt and brought the blade up to Jack’s throat. Jack closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

  “You have changed, my nephew,” said Gloucester suspiciously. “Your face seems other than I remember it.”

  Has he noticed that there’s no mole on my cheek? Jack wondered.

  “My coronation is near. Your time is over. Do you hear me? Over!” he shouted.

  “My lord!” called a voice from the courtyard.

  “What is it, Tyrell?” Gloucester shouted, leaning out of the window.

  “Your plan was a success. We have the boy. He should be here at any moment.”

&nbs
p; “Very well,” replied Gloucester. “Tell the guards to expect a guest for His Majesty. We leave at once.”

  When the duke turned around, his sinister smile sent a chill down Jack’s spine.

  “Fear has taken your tongue, I see,” Gloucester sneered, striding toward the door. “No matter. Soon you will be silent forever. Tyrell!”

  Gloucester stood at the door, still keenly studying Jack as the sound of footsteps on the staircase drew near. Then the key turned in the lock, and Tyrell eased the heavy wooden door open.

  “Double the guard,” Gloucester gruffly ordered; then he swept down the stairs. Tyrell pulled the door closed and locked it behind him.

  Jack let out a huge sigh.

  What have I got myself into? he thought.

  Jack’s hands were shaking, and he felt unsteady on his feet.

  I just met the infamous duke of Gloucester, the future King Richard III, and he almost killed me! Why did I ever play around with that stupid box?

  Jack peered out of the window and heard the muffled voices of Tyrell and Gloucester discussing something with the guard outside. Jack watched as Gloucester and his entourage mounted their horses. Then he froze as Gloucester glanced over his shoulder and up at the window.

  I’m lucky to still be alive, he thought, sitting down on the bed. I’ve fooled the duke once, but surely he’ll return and discover the truth. Or maybe he’ll just send one of his men to execute me, and no one will ever know or care that I’m not really Edward. It could happen at any moment!

  Shortly afterward, Jack heard the sound of approaching horses again. His hands started to shake, and it seemed that the moment had come all too soon.

  Then a faint shadow suddenly appeared in the centre of the room. A shape was forming.

  “Edward!” Jack exclaimed, as the young king fully materialized. “Where were you? What happened?”

  “I am unsure,” said Edward. “This box has bewitched me. I seem to have been in a kind of dream.”

  “Who goes there?” a voice barked outside as horsemen drew up.

  Edward leaned out the window.

  “It is my brother, Richard, the duke of York,” he whispered, gesturing to Jack to join him at the window.

  Jack saw three men dismount. One of them helped a young boy off his horse.

  “He was supposed to remain safe with my mother, but he too has fallen into my uncle’s hands. Now both of us are surely doomed.”

  They could hear the door at the base of the staircase creak open.

  “Where’s the box?” Jack asked in a panic.

  “Quickly, hide behind the tapestry. If they find you here, they will think you are part of an escape plan, and you will surely be executed. Go!”

  Edward pushed Jack roughly toward the tapestry as heavy footsteps halted outside the door. Once again a key was turned in the lock.

  From the edge of the tapestry, Jack watched what was happening. Three men entered the room, one dragging Richard behind him.

  The man in my dream! Jack winced, recognizing the man with the terrible scar.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Edward demanded.

  “Your uncle’s orders, Your Majesty,” replied the man, tightening his grasp on Richard. “The two of you are to be moved to another section of the Tower.”

  One of the other men reached for Edward, who lashed out with his feet and threw punches. But his struggles were useless.

  “How dare you!” Edward yelled. “How dare you! If my father were alive—”

  “Your father is dead, you little brats!” laughed the man with the scar, pulling a knife from his belt. “Don’t make me use this, Your Majesty.”

  “I’ll have your heads! All of you! I swear you will pay for this!” Edward screamed as the brothers were dragged away.

  Jack could hear Richard’s cries and Edward’s protests all the way down the stairs.

  He cautiously came out from behind the tapestry and, seeing no one around, dashed out to the landing at the top of the stairs. He spotted his box on the second step down, where it must have fallen unnoticed during the struggle. Jack picked it up, opened the lid and grabbed the wheel.

  To his horror, it wouldn’t turn in either direction.

  He heard the men coming back up the stairs. Looking around in a panic, he noticed a door half hidden in the shadows by an outcropping of stone. He ran over to it and slipped through.

  The Tunnel

  VI

  Jack leaned against the door and caught his breath. He was standing at the top of another staircase. It was pitch-black except for a faint light at the bottom of the steps. He carefully edged his way down the stairs and found himself in a kitchen.

  Along the walls were huge open stone ovens. Knives, cleavers and cooking pots of all shapes and sizes hung beside them. In the middle of the kitchen were long tables. The place was empty except for a rat nibbling under one of the tables.

  He took a few cautious steps onto the stone slabs but halted when he saw a shadow lurking in the corner. Whatever the shape was, it wasn’t moving at all.

  Then, suddenly, a small girl leapt out of the corner and knocked him down. Jack grabbed her firmly by the ankle.

  “Let me go!” she yelled, kicking him.

  “Keep still, will you? There are guards upstairs.”

  “Let me go!”

  “If you be quiet, I will. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need your help.”

  Relaxing his grip as a gesture of good faith, Jack allowed the girl to go free. He stood up and the two of them faced each other warily. The girl was smaller than Jack, had a thick mop of tangled jet-black hair and seemed about his age.

  “My special place, this is,” said the girl, glaring back at Jack. “Why do you want my help?”

  “I need to find a way out of the Tower.”

  “I can’t leave till I’ve got the food,” said the girl with a suspicious scowl. “I been coming in here for months. Always been food here before. It must be somewhere.”

  She looked into the cupboards for food. “Your words sound strange. Where do you come from?”

  “The North,” Jack answered. “And who are you?”

  “Meg,” said the girl defiantly. “Meg Pepper. And who might you be?”

  “Jack.”

  “Jack what?”

  But before Jack could answer, he heard the voices of the men who had taken Edward and Richard.

  “The guards are coming,” he whispered.

  “They’re looking for food and wine, I’ll wager,” she said, scrambling toward the underside of the staircase.

  “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

  “Do you know what they do with thieves?”

  “I’m not a thief,” Jack insisted.

  “Tell that to them,” said Meg with a shrug, and disappeared underneath the stairs.

  “Wait for me!”

  Jack followed Meg into the blackness under the staircase. The space underneath the steps led into a narrow passageway with a circle of light at its end. Its roof was so low that Jack had to crawl, and he couldn’t keep up with Meg, who was far ahead of him. Dust and small stones fell from the rough ceiling above, and he felt ice-cold water trickle down the back of his neck. He worried that the tunnel might collapse at any moment. He struggled to climb over the stones, and even in the gloom he recognized the outlines of two skulls. Breathing heavily, he scrambled toward the growing patch of light in the distance. Finally, just as he began to gasp for air, he emerged into the daylight on a narrow beach beside the River Thames.

  Jack collapsed, exhausted, a few feet from Meg. She sat with her back against a nearby wall, trying to catch her breath. In front of them a few small boats lay aground on the mud. Jack glanced at the hole through which they had just come. It looked barely large enough for a dog to squeeze through.
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  “River’s coming up again,” said Meg, standing abruptly and hurrying toward some steps to their right.

  “Wait!” Jack panted as he struggled to his feet and followed her.

  Meg waited for him at the top of the steps. She sat on a low stone wall with the castle moat and the huge walls of the Tower behind her.

  “Did we come under the moat?” Jack asked in disbelief, still breathing heavily.

  “Yes,” said Meg with a smile.

  She rubbed her untidy hair, shaking loose some dust and small pebbles.

  “That tunnel’s a drain or something,” Meg continued. “They built it long ago to take everything straight to the river. Not used no more now. Everything goes into the moat.”

  Staring into the murky water, Jack hated to think what was in the moat.

  “When the river drops, you can see the tunnel entrance,” Meg explained. “Only big enough for someone like me, though, and you got to get out fast before the water rises again.”

  Jack sat down beside her as the sun began to sink. The glow of a beautiful sunset reflected on the busy boat-filled waters of the river. The skyline that stretched before them looked very different from the London Jack was familiar with. Church spires rose above the slate-tiled and thatched roofs of the houses on the opposite bank. Smoke swirled from hundreds of chimney-pots.

  “Been using that tunnel for months now, I have,” Meg piped up again. “Not many folks know about it. Those that do probably think it’s been filled in. I’ll wager someone must have been trapped in there before.”

  Jack shuddered at the recollection of the skulls.

  “They’ll be around for a bit, those guards,” said Meg. “I’ll have to wait a while till I can go back in.”

  “Go back?” asked Jack, amazed that Meg would be so eager to risk her life again.

  “I didn’t get the food.”

  “So?”

  “Tyler won’t be pleased,” she said, looking nervously over Jack’s shoulder.

  “Who’s Tyler?” asked Jack.

  Meg suddenly jumped up.

  “Will Tyler,” growled an unpleasant voice.