Amelia Earhart and the Flying Chariot Page 3
Inside the tent, Abby was wearing the gray beard. Doc shoved the olive wreath into his back pocket. He hunched over, letting his sister climb onto his shoulders. Then, as Doc stood, Abby lifted the corners of the tent and wrapped the canvas around both of them. It looked sort of like a robe.
And it completely covered Doc. Only Abby’s bearded head stuck out from the top.
“Come, father,” Sally said. “Let us stroll to the hippodrome.”
“Good idea, child,” Abby said.
Sally led the way along a path lined with marble statues.
“These are champions of Olympics past,” Sally said. “When the games first began, there was only one event, a running race. Over the years, they added jumping, javelin and discus throwing, the chariot race, wrestling, and boxing …”
“And it was normal for boxers to get their teeth knocked out,” Doc said from inside the tent/robe. “But they didn’t like to give their opponents the satisfaction of knowing—so they would swallow their own teeth.”
Sally laughed. “I’ve read that, too!”
“Don’t encourage him,” Abby said, but with a smile. She liked gross details as much as the next guy.
“Father, look!” Sally said, pointing.
A man in a long purple robe was walking toward them, looking around, clearly searching the crowd.
“Judge!” Abby said a little too loudly—to warn Doc, who couldn’t see a thing.
“Yes?” the judge said, turning to what appeared to be a wobbly old man. “Did you call me?”
“No, I was just, um …” Abby said in a fake deep voice. “How’s it going, Your Honor?”
The judge frowned. “We still have not found the wreath thieves.”
Doc reached around to his back pocket to make sure the wreath was still there. It was. But when he took his hand off Abby’s leg, she tilted forward, nearly sliding off his shoulders, only catching herself by clamping her feet tight to his ribs.
“Owwww!” Doc moaned.
The judge looked at Abby.
Abby patted the front of her robe.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Too many olives. Well, good luck catching those crooks.”
The judge nodded. He turned and continued his search.
“This way, father,” Sally said.
They walked on.
“Here’s the hippodrome,” Sally said.
They looked down at the massive dirt field.
“Six hundred yards long,” Sally said. “Two hundred wide.”
“There’s Amelia,” Abby said. “And the angry lady. What are they doing?”
Abby’s robe opened. Doc peeked out.
Down on the track, Amelia Earhart and Kyniska stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a tiny two-wheeled wooden cart. The chariot bounced along the track, pulled by Kyniska’s team of four horses.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“This is basically a war chariot,” Kyniska explained. “Made to be as light and as fast as possible. They’re fragile, easily smashed.”
“Kind of like airplanes,” Amelia said. She was wearing her flight helmet and goggles.
“Racers may not purposely cause another cart to crash,” Kyniska said. “Though it happens all the time. Racers ram each other’s chariots. They beat each other with whips. Nothing is done about it.”
Amelia pulled the reins, guiding the team around a stone pillar at one end of the arena.
“Turns are the most dangerous part,” Kyniska said. “Drivers crash into the post or get tangled in one another’s reins and get dragged, trampled.”
The chariot swung around the pillar and headed back up the track. There was another pillar at the other end of the field.
“Good, very good,” Kyniska said.
“It’s a bit like flying,” said Amelia.
“You will do well,” Kyniska declared. “My horses know what to do. Stay upright, and we will win.”
Sally, Abby, and Doc walked down the slope to the track. They’d left the tent and beard behind. Doc still had the olive crown in his pocket.
The chariot slowed to a stop. Kyniska and Amelia Earhart hopped out.
“There you are, children,” Amelia said.
Abby introduced Sally. Amelia introduced Kyniska.
Sally’s eyes lit up. “The first woman to win at the Olympics!”
“That’s the plan,” Kyniska said.
Sally ran to the chariot and jumped in.
“Careful, child!” Kyniska called.
“I always wanted to try one of these!” Sally yelped. She stood in the chariot, pretending to bounce up and down.
Abby turned to Amelia. “Why were you driving the chariot?”
“Practicing for the big race tomorrow,” Amelia explained.
“You?” Doc asked. “Women can’t compete at the ancient Olympics. Can’t even watch from the stands.”
Amelia tapped her helmet.
“Yeah, but …” Abby began. “What about the whole naked thing?”
“Right,” Amelia said, suddenly worried. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Chariot racers compete in long robes,” Kyniska said. “So drivers are not skinned alive when they fall from their chariots.”
“When they fall?” Abby asked.
“Well, if,” Kyniska corrected. “Not everyone is injured. You need not worry, your friend is a natural. What a fine joke it will be on the snooty judges! And best of all is that I cannot lose. If Amelia wins the race, I get the everlasting fame and glory. And if she loses, I get to keep her flying chariot!”
“What? No!” Amelia protested. “I never agreed to that.”
Kyniska laughed. “That hardly matters, does it? I have declared it to be so. There is nothing more to discuss.”
“I see,” Amelia said.
“I guess you have to win,” Abby said.
Amelia nodded. “I’ll win. But maybe I better get in just one more practice.”
She turned to the chariot. Or, to where she’d left it. It wasn’t there.
“Look!” Doc shouted, pointing.
Out on the track, Sally stood in Kyniska’s chariot, speeding along behind the team of galloping horses.
“Too fast, child!” Kyniska screamed.
“Whoa!” Sally shrieked, yanking the reins. “How do you stop this thing?”
The chariot raced toward the stone pillar at the far end of the stadium.
Amelia shouted, “Careful on the—”
The horses dashed around the pillar and the chariot swung wide and tipped over and Sally tumbled out.
“—turn!”
Kyniska, Amelia, Abby, and Doc took off running toward the crash.
Sally sat up and blinked dust from her eyes.
Pieces of the chariot lay all over the dirt.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sally stood up. She bent her arms and legs.
She hopped up and down. Nothing was broken.
Kyniska got there first, with the others close behind.
“It’s all right!” Sally called out. “I’m not hurt!”
Shoving the girl aside, Kyniska bent and picked up a sliver of wood.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Sally said. “It just looked so fun!”
“First my driver, now my chariot,” Kyniska moaned. “What demon of Hades brought you people to Olympia?”
“We’re not really sure,” Abby said.
“Maybe it can be fixed,” Amelia suggested. She looked around at the scattered chariot pieces. There were hundreds. “Maybe not.”
Sally looked down at her feet.
“Come on,” Doc said. “We don’t hate you.”
“I do,” Kyniska said, taking an angry step toward Sally.
“Calm down,” Abby said. “It was just an accident.”
“Thanks, Abby,” Sally said, backing away. “But maybe I better head home. See you later?”
“Sure,” Doc said. “See you.”
Sally turned and ran out of the hippodrome.
Kyniska turn
ed and looked at Amelia Earhart’s airplane.
“Well,” she said. “At least I get to keep the flying chariot.”
That night, in the hippodrome, Abby, Doc, and Amelia Earhart sat around a campfire.
Abby poked the fire with a long, thin piece of wood—part of the remains of Kyniska’s chariot. They’d used other pieces to start the fire.
From the crowded plains above came joyful sounds of laughter and music.
In the hippodrome, no one was laughing.
Doc nibbled a stale cracker. Dinner that night came from a small tin of emergency rations in Amelia’s plane.
Amelia stared sadly at her plane. It sat at the edge of the field, guarded by four big-armed men. Kyniska’s men.
“She’ll take it away in the morning,”
Amelia said. “I’ll never see my Vega again after tonight.”
“No, don’t say that,” Doc said.
“I’m just trying to face the truth. No more Atlantic dreams for me …”
“But Ms. Earhart,” Abby said. “Amelia. Didn’t you fly across the Atlantic once already?”
Amelia nodded, smiling at the memory.
“Yes,” she said. “It was the flight that made me famous. Though I hardly deserved the fame.”
“Why not?” asked Doc.
“This was back in 1928,” Amelia began. “No woman had ever flown over the Atlantic, even as a passenger. It’s such a dangerous thing to try. Well, a New York City publisher, George Putnam—”
“Your husband?” Abby asked.
“Not at the time,” Amelia said. “I’d never met him. In any case, he knew a good story when he saw one. He helped arrange the flight. I was to fly across the ocean with two men, a pilot and a navigator. Of course, I knew they were just using me to get attention. But what an adventure! Besides, I’d been a licensed pilot for years and was hoping to get a chance at the controls.
“As it turned out, the weather was lousy the whole way across. I never got a chance to fly. We made it, though. Just over twenty hours to the coast of Britain. And for that—for sitting in the back of a plane like a sack of potatoes—I achieved instant fame!”
Amelia laughed. “I can’t complain. I’ve been making a good living ever since, giving lectures about flying, writing articles, even a book. But I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I don’t deserve all the praise, all the fame. That’s why I am so determined to cross the Atlantic again. This time, alone.”
They all sat silently for a while, staring into the fire.
Abby said, “There’s got to be some way to win that race tomorrow.”
“If only there was a chariot we could use,” Doc said.
Abby looked over at Amelia’s plane. “Maybe there is.”
“It’s a little heavy,” Doc pointed out.
“Better than nothing,” Amelia said. “At least I’d have a chance!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, as the sun rose above the pine hills of Olympia, forty thousand fans streamed into the hippodrome. They packed the grassy slopes surrounding the track.
It was time for the biggest event of the Olympics—the four-horse chariot race.
Abby and Doc stood at the top of the slope, at the very back of the crowd. They could sort of see the field from there, if they stood on tiptoes. Plus, they could stay out of sight of the judges.
“They’re right up front,” Doc said, pointing to the men in purple robes standing alongside the race track.
“We shall be fine here, children,” said the bearded man standing beside Abby and Doc.
At least, they hoped it looked like a bearded man.
Actually, it was Kyniska, wearing the fake beard Sally had bought the day before. She hadn’t planned to sneak in—the judges really did threaten to throw women who broke the rules off the side of a mountain. But when Doc and Abby told her their plan, she liked it. She had to see it for herself.
The entire arena buzzed with energy—men bragging about their knowledge of the drivers and teams, arguing over who would win, challenging friends to bets.
Trumpets blared. Everyone turned toward the hippodrome’s arched entryway.
“Now begins the procession,” Kyniska explained. “Each team will ride in and be introduced by the herald.”
In single file, the chariots rolled into the arena. Each was pulled by four horses, their muscles bulging, coats gleaming in the sunlight. In each chariot stood a proud man in long white robes, reins in one hand, a whip in the other. A man with an amazingly loud voice announced the name of each team owner and driver, and where they were born.
“Here she comes!” Abby cried.
The crowd gasped.
The final chariot rolled slowly into the hippodrome. Like the others, it was pulled by four horses.
But it was a bit larger than your regulation Olympic chariot.
It was a red Lockheed Vega.
Amelia Earhart waved to the crowd. She’d opened the top of the cockpit, which allowed her to stand with her head and chest above the top of the plane. She was wearing her leather flight helmet, with hair tucked in and goggles over her eyes.
“And here is the team of Kyniska of Sparta!” the herald’s voice echoed through the stands. “Driven by …”
He checked his notes.
“Driven by Earhart of Kansas. Wherever that is.”
The crowd cheered.
“And now,” continued the herald. “All teams will take their places at the starting line to await the starting trumpet!”
The teams—thirty of them—crowded together at one end of the track.
“The race is twelve laps around the hippodrome,” Kyniska told Doc and Abby. “First racer to cross the finish line wins. A lifetime of hopes and dreams and work—and it will all be over in fifteen minutes.”
“She’ll win,” Doc said.
Kyniska took a deep breath. “We shall see …”
The trumpeter raised his horn and blasted.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The horses bolted forward.
Fans stood and roared as the teams dashed down the track, kicking up clouds of dust.
“Notice how the crowds are biggest at each end of the stadium?” Kyniska shouted to Abby and Doc. “Everyone wants to see the turns—where most of the crashes happen.”
The horses barely slowed as they rounded the first turn. Sure enough, one of the carts skidded sideways and slammed into the low wooden wall around the track. The driver sailed into the crowd.
Abby and Doc jumped up and down—both with excitement and to get a better view.
“Go, Amelia!” Abby yelped. “I mean, Earhart!”
But Earhart was falling behind. As she rounded the stone pillar and started back up the track, several teams pulled past her.
At the front of the pack, drivers screamed at their teams. Competing horses slammed their sides against each other, fighting for position. One chariot side-swiped the chariot next to it, the wheels grinding together.
Both drivers lifted their whips and starting whipping each other.
“Hey, can you do that?” Abby asked.
“It happens,” Kyniska said.
“What a crazy sport!” Doc shouted.
Galloping hooves thundered on the track, and the drivers were screaming, and everyone was covered in sweat and dust. As they rounded the next turn, two of the lead chariots slammed together, and the wheels of one of the chariots shattered. The cart tipped forward and bounced off the dirt, and the driver somersaulted into the path of onrushing teams. He leaped up and dodged the horses, but not one of the chariots. The man howled as a speeding wheel bounced over his foot.
“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Doc said.
“Come on, Earhart!” Abby shouted. “Faster!”
Amelia’s Vega rounded the turn in dead last.
Abby pointed. “She falling too far behind!”
“It’s the flying chariot,” Kyniska said. “It’s too heavy for the horses.”
The horses were working hard but falling farther and farther behind. After six laps, Amelia was so far in back of the leaders they were coming up behind her. She watched as one chariot after another sped past her plane.
The plan was failing.
Amelia turned to the crowd, looking around.
“She’s looking for us,” Abby said.
“Up here!” Doc called, jumping and waving.
Amelia shouted something, pointing to the team of horses.
“What’d she say?” Doc asked.
“Can’t hear,” Abby said. “Let’s get closer.”
They shoved their way through the crowd. By the time they got to the front, Amelia was two full laps behind the pack.
“Three laps to go!” shouted the herald.
Abby and Doc watched the horses and chariots speed past. Amelia’s team rode by at a slow trot.
“Here!” Doc yelled to Amelia. “We’re over here!”
“New plan!” Amelia shouted. “Cut me loose!”
“Do not go out there,” warned Kyniska, who’d pushed her way to the front. “Far too dangerous.”
“Untie the horses!” Amelia yelled. “It’s my only chance!”
The fans were on their feet, whooping and screeching.
Abby and Doc nodded to each other, then darted onto the track.
The herald bellowed, “Two laps to go!”
Amelia pulled on her reins, and the team came to a stop. She threw the reins down to Doc.
“Easy, guys,” Doc told the horses, patting their noses. He liked horses. He’d been a cowboy once. For a few minutes.
Abby dove between the wheels of the plane and started to untie the rope holding the plane to the team of horses.
“Hurry!” Doc shouted.
Abby looked down the track. The leading teams were rounding the stone pillar and rumbling her way.