Chapter Eighteen. Sparrows on the Housetops

Greenmantle

by John Buchan

'I've often regretted,' said Blenkiron, 'that miracles have left
off happening.'

He got no answer, for I was feeling the walls for something in
the nature of a window.

'For I reckon,' he went on, 'that it wants a good old-fashioned
copper-bottomed miracle to get us out of this fix. It's plumb
against all my principles. I've spent my life using the talents God
gave me to keep things from getting to the point of rude violence,
and so far I've succeeded. But now you come along, Major, and you
hustle a respectable middle-aged citizen into an aboriginal mix-up.
It's mighty indelicate. I reckon the next move is up to you, for I'm
no good at the housebreaking stunt.'

'No more am I,' I answered; 'but I'm hanged if I'll chuck up the
sponge. Sandy's somewhere outside, and he's got a hefty crowd at his
heels.'

I simply could not feel the despair which by every law of common
sense was due to the case. The guns had intoxicated me. I could
still hear their deep voices, though yards of wood and stone
separated us from the upper air.

What vexed us most was our hunger. Barring a few mouthfuls on
the road we had eaten nothing since the morning, and as our diet for
the past days had not been generous we had some leeway to make up.
Stumm had never looked near us since we were shoved into the car. We
had been brought to some kind of house and bundled into a place like
a wine-cellar. It was pitch dark, and after feeling round the walls,
first on my feet and then on Peter's back, I decided that there were
no windows. It must have been lit and ventilated by some lattice in
the ceiling. There was not a stick of furniture in the place:
nothing but a damp earth floor and bare stone sides, The door was a
relic of the Iron Age, and I could hear the paces of a sentry outside
it.

When things get to the pass that nothing you can do can better
them, the only thing is to live for the moment. All three of us
sought in sleep a refuge from our empty stomachs. The floor was the
poorest kind of bed, but we rolled up our coats for pillows and made
the best of it. Soon I knew by Peter's regular breathing that he was
asleep, and I presently followed him ...

I was awakened by a pressure below my left ear. I thought it
was Peter, for it is the old hunter's trick of waking a man so that
he makes no noise. But another voice spoke. It told me that there
was no time to lose and to rise and follow, and the voice was the
voice of Hussin. Peter was awake, and we stirred Blenkiron out of
heavy slumber. We were bidden take off our boots and hang them by
their laces round our necks as country boys do when they want to go
barefoot. Then we tiptoed to the door, which was ajar.

Outside was a passage with a flight of steps at one end which
led to the open air. On these steps lay a faint shine of starlight,
and by its help I saw a man huddled up at the foot of them. It was
our sentry, neatly and scientifically gagged and tied up.

The steps brought us to a little courtyard about which the walls
of the houses rose like cliffs. We halted while Hussin listened
intently. Apparently the coast was clear and our guide led us to one
side, which was clothed by a stout wooden trellis. Once it may have
supported fig-trees, but now the plants were dead and only withered
tendrils and rotten stumps remained.

It was child's play for Peter and me to go up that trellis, but
it was the deuce and all for Blenkiron. He was in poor condition and
puffed like a grampus, and he seemed to have no sort of head for
heights. But he was as game as a buffalo, and started in gallantly
till his arms gave out and he fairly stuck. So Peter and I went up
on each side of him, taking an arm apiece, as I had once seen done to
a man with vertigo in the Kloof Chimney on Table Mountain. I was
mighty thankful when I got him panting on the top and Hussin had
shinned up beside us.

We crawled along a broadish wall, with an inch or two of powdery
snow on it, and then up a sloping buttress on to the flat roof of the
house. It was a miserable business for Blenkiron, who would
certainly have fallen if he could have seen what was below him, and
Peter and I had to stand to attention all the time. Then began a
more difficult job. Hussin pointed out a ledge which took us past a
stack of chimneys to another building slightly lower, this being the
route he fancied. At that I sat down resolutely and put on my boots,
and the others followed. Frost-bitten feet would be a poor asset in
this kind of travelling.

It was a bad step for Blenkiron, and we only got him past it by
Peter and I spread-eagling ourselves against the wall and passing him
in front of us with his face towards us. We had no grip, and if he
had stumbled we should all three have been in the courtyard. But we
got it over, and dropped as softly as possible on to the roof of the
next house. Hussin had his finger on his lips, and I soon saw why.
For there was a lighted window in the wall we had descended.

Some imp prompted me to wait behind and explore. The others
followed Hussin and were soon at the far end of the roof, where a
kind of wooden pavilion broke the line, while I tried to get a look
inside. The window was curtained, and had two folding sashes which
clasped in the middle. Through a gap in the curtain I saw a little
lamp-lit room and a big man sitting at a table littered with
papers.

I watched him, fascinated, as he turned to consult some document
and made a marking on the map before him. Then he suddenly rose,
stretched himself, cast a glance at the window, and went out of the
room, making a great clatter in descending the wooden staircase. He
left the door ajar and the lamp burning.

I guessed he had gone to have a look at his prisoners, in which
case the show was up. But what filled my mind was an insane desire
to get a sight of his map. It was one of those mad impulses which
utterly cloud right reason, a thing independent of any plan, a crazy
leap in the dark. But it was so strong that I would have pulled that
window out by its frame, if need be, to get to that table.

There was no need, for the flimsy clasp gave at the first pull,
and the sashes swung open. I scrambled in, after listening for steps
on the stairs. I crumpled up the map and stuck it in my pocket, as
well as the paper from which I had seen him copying. Very carefully
I removed all marks of my entry, brushed away the snow from the
boards, pulled back the curtain, got out and refastened the window.
Still there was no sound of his return. Then I started off to catch
up the others.

I found them shivering in the roof pavilion. 'We've got to move
pretty fast,' I said, 'for I've just been burgling old Stumm's
private cabinet. Hussin, my lad, d'you hear that? They may be after
us any moment, so I pray Heaven we soon strike better going.'

Hussin understood. He led us at a smart pace from one roof to
another, for here they were all of the same height, and only low
parapets and screens divided them. We never saw a soul, for a
winter's night is not the time you choose to saunter on your
housetop. I kept my ears open for trouble behind us, and in about
five minutes I heard it. A riot of voices broke out, with one louder
than the rest, and, looking back, I saw lanterns waving. Stumm had
realized his loss and found the tracks of the thief.

Hussin gave one glance behind and then hurried us on at break-
neck pace, with old Blenkiron gasping and stumbling. The shouts
behind us grew louder, as if some eye quicker than the rest had
caught our movement in the starlit darkness. it was very evident
that if they kept up the chase we should be caught, for Blenkiron was
about as useful on a roof as a hippo.

Presently we came to a big drop, with a kind of ladder down it,
and at the foot a shallow ledge running to the left into a pit of
darkness. Hussin gripped my arm and pointed down it. 'Follow it,'
he whispered, 'and you will reach a roof which spans a street. Cross
it, and on the other side is a mosque. Turn to the right there and
you will find easy going for fifty metres, well screened from the
higher roofs. For Allah's sake keep in the shelter of the screen.
Somewhere there I will join you.'

He hurried us along the ledge for a bit and then went back, and
with snow from the corners covered up our tracks. After that he went
straight on himself, taking strange short steps like a bird. I saw
his game. He wanted to lead our pursuers after him, and he had to
multiply the tracks and trust to Stumm's fellows not spotting that
they all were made by one man.

But I had quite enough to think of in getting Blenkiron along
that ledge. He was pretty nearly foundered, he was in a sweat of
terror, and as a matter of fact he was taking one of the biggest
risks of his life, for we had no rope and his neck depended on
himself. I could hear him invoking some unknown deity called Holy
Mike. But he ventured gallantly, and we got to the roof which ran
across the street. That was easier, though ticklish enough, but it
was no joke skirting the cupola of that infernal mosque. At last we
found the parapet and breathed more freely, for we were now under
shelter from the direction of danger. I spared a moment to look
round, and thirty yards off, across the street, I saw a weird
spectacle.

The hunt was proceeding along the roofs parallel to the one we
were lodged on. I saw the flicker of the lanterns, waved up and down
as the bearers slipped in the snow, and I heard their cries like
hounds on a trail. Stumm was not among them: he had not the shape
for that sort of business. They passed us and continued to our left,
now hid by a jutting chimney, now clear to view against the sky line.
The roofs they were on were perhaps six feet higher than ours, so
even from our shelter we could mark their course. If Hussin were
going to be hunted across Erzerum it was a bad look-out for us, for I
hadn't the foggiest notion where we were or where we were going
to.

But as we watched we saw something more. The wavering lanterns
were now three or four hundred yards away, but on the roofs just
opposite us across the street there appeared a man's figure. I
thought it was one of the hunters, and we all crouched lower, and
then I recognized the lean agility of Hussin. He must have doubled
back, keeping in the dusk to the left of the pursuit, and taking big
risks in the open places. But there he was now, exactly in front of
us, and separated only by the width of the narrow street.

He took a step backward, gathered himself for a spring, and
leaped clean over the gap. Like a cat he lighted on the parapet
above us, and stumbled forward with the impetus right on our
heads.

'We are safe for the moment,' he whispered, 'but when they miss
me they will return. We must make good haste.'

The next half-hour was a maze of twists and turns, slipping down
icy roofs and climbing icier chimney-stacks. The stir of the city
had gone, and from the black streets below came scarcely a sound.
But always the great tattoo of guns beat in the east. Gradually we
descended to a lower level, till we emerged on the top of a shed in a
courtyard. Hussin gave an odd sort of cry, like a demented owl, and
something began to stir below us.

It was a big covered wagon, full of bundles of forage, and drawn
by four mules. As we descended from the shed into the frozen litter
of the yard, a man came out of the shade and spoke low to Hussin.
Peter and I lifted Blenkiron into the cart, and scrambled in beside
him, and I never felt anything more blessed than the warmth and
softness of that place after the frosty roofs. I had forgotten all
about my hunger, and only yearned for sleep. Presently the wagon
moved out of the courtyard into the dark streets.

Then Blenkiron began to laugh, a deep internal rumble which
shook him violently and brought down a heap of forage on his head. I
thought it was hysterics, the relief from the tension of the past
hour. But it wasn't. His body might be out of training, but there
was never anything the matter with his nerves. He was consumed with
honest merriment.

'Say, Major,' he gasped, 'I don't usually cherish dislikes for
my fellow men, but somehow I didn't cotton to Colonel Stumm. But now
I almost love him. You hit his jaw very bad in Germany, and now
you've annexed his private file, and I guess it's important or he
wouldn't have been so mighty set on steeple-chasing over those roofs.
I haven't done such a thing since I broke into neighbour Brown's
woodshed to steal his tame 'possum, and that's forty years back.
It's the first piece of genooine amusement I've struck in this game,
and I haven't laughed so much since old Jim Hooker told the tale of
"Cousin Sally Dillard" when we were hunting ducks in Michigan and his
wife's brother had an apoplexy in the night and died of it.'

To the accompaniment of Blenkiron's chuckles I did what Peter
had done in the first minute, and fell asleep.

When I woke it was still dark. The wagon had stopped in a
courtyard which seemed to be shaded by great trees. The snow lay
deeper here, and by the feel of the air we had left the city and
climbed to higher ground. There were big buildings on one side, and
on the other what looked like the lift of a hill. No lights were
shown, the place was in profound gloom, but I felt the presence near
me of others besides Hussin and the driver.

We were hurried, Blenkiron only half awake, into an outbuilding,
and then down some steps to a roomy cellar. There Hussin lit a
lantern, which showed what had once been a storehouse for fruit. Old
husks still strewed the floor and the place smelt of apples. Straw
had been piled in corners for beds, and there was a rude table and a
divan of boards covered with sheepskins.

'Where are we?' I asked Hussin.

'In the house of the Master,' he said. 'You will be safe here,
but you must keep still till the Master comes.'

'Is the Frankish lady here?' I asked.

Hussin nodded, and from a wallet brought out some food - raisins
and cold meat and a loaf of bread. We fell on it like vultures, and
as we ate Hussin disappeared. I noticed that he locked the door
behind him.

As soon as the meal was ended the others returned to their
interrupted sleep. But I was wakeful now and my mind was sharp- set
on many things. I got Blenkiron's electric torch and lay down on the
divan to study Stumm's map.

The first glance showed me that I had lit on a treasure. It was
the staff map of the Erzerum defences, showing the forts and the
field trenches, with little notes scribbled in Stumm's neat small
handwriting. I got out the big map which I had taken from Blenkiron,
and made out the general lie of the land. I saw the horseshoe of
Deve Boyun to the east which the Russian guns were battering.
Stumm's was just like the kind of squared artillery map we used in
France, 1 in 10,000, with spidery red lines showing the trenches, but
with the difference that it was the Turkish trenches that were shown
in detail and the Russian only roughly indicated. The thing was
really a confidential plan of the whole Erzerum enceinte, and would
be worth untold gold to the enemy. No wonder Stumm had been in a wax
at its loss.

The Deve Boyun lines seemed to me monstrously strong, and I
remembered the merits of the Turk as a fighter behind strong
defences. It looked as if Russia were up against a second Plevna or
a new Gallipoli.

Then I took to studying the flanks. South lay the Palantuken
range of mountains, with forts defending the passes, where ran the
roads to Mush and Lake Van. That side, too, looked pretty strong.
North in the valley of the Euphrates I made out two big forts, Tafta
and Kara Gubek, defending the road from Olti. On this part of the
map Stumm's notes were plentiful, and I gave them all my attention.
I remembered Blenkiron's news about the Russians advancing on a broad
front, for it was clear that Stumm was taking pains about the flank
of the fortress.

Kara Gubek was the point of interest. It stood on a rib of land
between two peaks, which from the contour lines rose very steep. So
long as it was held it was clear that no invader could move down the
Euphrates glen. Stumm had appended a note to the peaks - 'not
fortified'; and about two miles to the north-east there was a red
cross and the name 'Prjevalsky'. I assumed that to be the farthest
point yet reached by the right wing of the Russian attack.

Then I turned to the paper from which Stumm had copied the
jottings on to his map. It was typewritten, and consisted of notes
on different points. One was headed 'Kara Gubek' and read: 'No time
to fortify adjacent peaks. Difficult for enemy to get batteries
there, but not impossible. This the real point of danger, for if
Prjevalsky wins the Peaks Kara Gubek and Tafta must fall, and enemy
will be on left rear of Deve Boyun main position.'

I was soldier enough to see the tremendous importance of this
note. On Kara Gubek depended the defence of Erzerum, and it was a
broken reed if one knew where the weakness lay. Yet, searching the
map again, I could not believe that any mortal commander would see
any chance in the adjacent peaks, even if he thought them
unfortified. That was information confined to the Turkish and German
staff. But if it could be conveyed to the Grand Duke he would have
Erzerum in his power in a day. Otherwise he would go on battering at
the Deve Boyun ridge for weeks, and long ere he won it the Gallipoli
divisions would arrive, he would be out- numbered by two to one, and
his chance would have vanished.

My discovery set me pacing up and down that cellar in a perfect
fever of excitement. I longed for wireless, a carrier pigeon, an
aeroplane - anything to bridge over that space of half a dozen miles
between me and the Russian lines. It was maddening to have stumbled
on vital news and to be wholly unable to use it. How could three
fugitives in a cellar, with the whole hornet's nest of Turkey and
Germany stirred up against them, hope to send this message of life
and death?

I went back to the map and examined the nearest Russian
positions. They were carefully marked. Prjevalsky in the north, the
main force beyond Deve Boyun, and the southern columns up to the
passes of the Palantuken but not yet across them. I could not know
which was nearest to us till I discovered where we were. And as I
thought of this I began to see the rudiments of a desperate plan. It
depended on Peter, now slumbering like a tired dog on a couch of
straw.

Hussin had locked the door and I must wait for information till
he came back. But suddenly I noticed a trap in the roof, which had
evidently been used for raising and lowering the cellar's stores. It
looked ill-fitting and might be unbarred, so I pulled the table below
it, and found that with a little effort I could raise the flap. I
knew I was taking immense risks, but I was so keen on my plan that I
disregarded them. After some trouble I got the thing prised open,
and catching the edges of the hole with my fingers raised my body and
got my knees on the edge.

It was the outbuilding of which our refuge was the cellar, and
it was half filled with light. Not a soul was there, and I hunted
about till I found what I wanted. This was a ladder leading to a
sort of loft, which in turn gave access to the roof. Here I had to
be very careful, for I might be overlooked from the high buildings.
But by good luck there was a trellis for grape vines across the
place, which gave a kind of shelter. Lying flat on my face I stared
over a great expanse of country.

Looking north I saw the city in a haze of morning smoke, and,
beyond, the plain of the Euphrates and the opening of the glen where
the river left the hills. Up there, among the snowy heights, were
Tafta and Kara Gubek. To the east was the ridge of Deve Boyun, where
the mist was breaking before the winter's sun. On the roads up to it
I saw transport moving, I saw the circle of the inner forts, but for
a moment the guns were silent. South rose a great wall of white
mountain, which I took to be the Palantuken. I could see the roads
running to the passes, and the smoke of camps and horse-lines right
under the cliffs.

I had learned what I needed. We were in the outbuildings of a
big country house two or three miles south of the city. The nearest
point of the Russian front was somewhere in the foothills of the
Palantuken.

As I descended I heard, thin and faint and beautiful, like the
cry of a wild bird, the muezzin from the minarets of Erzerum.

When I dropped through the trap the others were awake. Hussin
was setting food on the table, and viewing my descent with anxious
disapproval.

'It's all right,' I said; 'I won't do it again, for I've found
out all I wanted. Peter, old man, the biggest job of your life is
before you!'