Patriot games - Tom Clancy [65]
"So, what's this Key Ceremony?"
"Well, back in the year 1240, the chap whose job it was to lock up for the night was set upon by some ruffians. Thereafter, he refused to do his duty without a military escort. Every night since, without interruption, the Chief Warder locks the three principal gates, then places the keys in the Queen's House on the Tower Green. There's a small ceremony that goes along with this. We thought that you and your wife might like to see it." Hallston sipped his beer. "You were in court today, I understand. How did it go?"
"I'm glad it's behind me. Dan says I did all right." Ryan shrugged. "When Mr. Evans showed us the block topside-I wonder if it still works," Ryan said thoughtfully, remembering the look on that young face. Is Miller sitting in his cell right now, thinking about me? Ryan drank the last of his beer. I'll bet he is.
"Excuse me?"
"That Miller kid. It's a shame you can't take him up there for a short haircut."
Hallston smiled coldly. "I doubt anyone here would disagree with you. We might even find a volunteer to swing the ax."
"You'd have to hold a lottery, Bob." Murray handed Ryan another glass. "You still worrying about him. Jack?"
"I've never seen anybody like that before."
"He's in jail. Jack," Cathy pointed out.
"Yeah, I know." So why are you still thinking about him? Jack asked himself. The hell with it. The hell with him. "This is great beer, Sar-major."
"That's the real reason they apply for the job," Murray chuckled.
"One of the reasons." Hallston finished his glass. "Almost time."
Jack finished off his second glass with a gulp. Evans reappeared, now wearing street clothes, and led them back out to the chilled night air. It was a clear night, with a three-quarters moon casting muted shadows on the stone battlements. A handful of electric lights added a few isolated splashes of light. Jack was surprised how peaceful it was for being in the center of a city, like his own home over the Chesapeake. Without thinking, he took his wife's hand as Evans led them west toward the Bloody Tower. A small crowd was already there, standing by Traitor's Gate, and a Warder was giving them instructions to be as quiet as possible, and not, of course, to take any photographs. A sentry was posted there, plus four other men under arms, their breath illuminated by the blue-white floodlights. It was the only sign of life. Otherwise they might have been made of stone.
"Right about now," Murray whispered.
Jack heard a door close somewhere ahead. It was too dark to see very much, and the few lights that were turned on only served to impair his night vision. He heard the sound of jingling keys first of all, like small bells rattling to the measured tread of a walking man. Next he saw a point of light. It grew into a square lantern with a candle inside, carried by Tom Hughes, the Chief Warder. The sound of his footsteps was as regular as a metronome as he approached, his back ramrod-straight from a lifetime of practice. A moment later the four soldiers formed up on him, the warder between them, and they marched off, back into the tunnel-like darkness to the fading music of the rattling keys and cleated shoes clicking on the pavement, leaving the sentry at the Bloody Tower.
Jack didn't hear the gates close, but a few minutes later the sound of the keys returned, and he glimpsed the returning guards in the irregular splashes of light. For some reason the scene was overpoweringly romantic. Ryan reached around his wife's waist and pulled her close. She looked up.
Love you, he said with his lips as the keys approached again. Her eyes answered.
To their right, the sentry snapped to on-guard: "Halt! Who goes there?" His words reverberated down the corridor of ancient stone.
The advancing men stopped at once, and Tom Hughes answered the challenge: "The keys!"
"Whose keys?" the sentry demanded.
"Queen Anne's keys!"
"Pass, Queen Anne's keys!" The sentry brought his rifle to present- arms.
The sentries, with Hughes in their midst, resumed their march and turned left, up