Spears of destiny : $b A story of the first capture of ConstantinopleSmith, Arthur D. Howden (Arthur Douglas Howden)
History
Spears of destiny : $b A story of the first capture of Constantinople
Smith, Arthur D. Howden (Arthur Douglas Howden)
Crusades -- Fourth, 1202-1204 -- Fiction; Istanbul (Turkey) -- History -- Siege, 1203-1204 -- Fiction
"I had thought we were far underground," he exclaimed.
"Nay, fair son. This chamber is on the first floor of the Tower of
Anemas in the outer walls of Blachernae. Betwixt us and freedom is
naught but those stones."
Hugh examined the wall with interest. It was tremendously thick.
Looking out through the loopholes was like peering through a tunnel,
and midway of the space massy iron bars criss-crossed in an
impenetrable barrier.
"Anemas and the nearby towers and walls," his father continued, "were
built in part to buttress the terrace on which the Palace is placed.
Hence they are vastly heavier than any other section of the
fortifications. Around the base of the Tower of Anemas there is a
counterfort, and this dungeon is constructed behind the protection of
the counterfort as well as within the wall of the tower itself. Nay,
Hugh, be not concerned with it. Escape lies not in that direction.
An you had all the contrivances of a mason, still you must labour
undisturbed for weeks to bore a path through the wall."
"Mayhap we can fall upon our guard when he comes with food,"
suggested Hugh.
Sir James shook his head.
"Three of the blacks come always together. Now that you are here, I
make no doubt that six will come--and they are lusty knaves. Hugh, I
like not to stifle your ambitions, but escape from Anemas is no light
task."
"Art in the right, fair lord," assented Hugh gloomily. "But, by St.
Cuthbert, it should be easier for two than one! And I would fain die
striving for freedom, rather than exist at the sufferance of enemies."
His father smiled gently.
"Hast some understanding now, Hugh, of what I have suffered. But I
would not hamper you. We will cast about and see what devices we may
hit upon. You are like a draught of heady wine, sweet son. I am
uplifted even now. Only, I prithee, be patient, for I am old and you
are young."
Indeed, Hugh was obliged to commit himself to the routine of the
dungeon. Study of the situation convinced him that his father was
not exaggerating the difficulties of forcing an escape. The walls
were impassable. The guards, who visited them twice a day to bring
food and sweep out the dungeon, were alert and powerful, and even if
they could be subdued, Hugh had a vivid recollection of the other
gates and sentinels who must be overcome before the upper air was
reached--and then their troubles would be just begun.
No, he agreed, escape by force was impossible under the present
circumstances. He swallowed this unpleasant fact as readily as he
could, and set himself to vie with Sir James in keeping his body
strong and healthy, in spite of the inevitable languor of
confinement. The two wrestled and contended, walked and danced.
They had sufficient rough food to eat, and if the chill winter air
found access to their chamber, it was proof against dampness. Save
on days when the sun never shone they were not uncomfortable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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