Duncton Stone (29 page)

“Quite so,” said Maple, “that’s why we’ll already have been observed.”

“I’ve seen nomole at all,” said Furrow.

“I’ve seen two,” said Maple, “and a possible third. It’s a question of knowing where look-outs might be placed.”

He was soon proved right, for two moles were waiting for them as they climbed a steep little rise, sloshing through runnels of water. The guards were bright-eyed and firm, and their interrogation of the party was thorough. They looked a little weary when they heard Furrow’s sorry tale, and said they had heard it too many times before. But their interest increased when Maple declined to identify himself or which system he was from unless he knew more about them first.

“You’ve got a nerve, chum, marching up here anonymously and expecting special treatment.”

“Whatmole’s in command here?” asked Maple with a stern authority Weeth had not seen before.

“The elders are... sir,” said the guard. “We’ll take you to them.”

“Oh no you won’t, mole. How do you know I’m not spying out your ground? Eh? You don’t! But these moles’ll vouch for me as far as they can. Leave my colleague and me here under guard.”

The guardmole grinned. “Stone the crows! You’d think there was a war on!”

“There is,” said Maple sharply.

“But anymole can see you’re not Newborn...” the guardmole’s voice faded away at Maple’s stare. “I’ll go and get somemole senior, sir,” he said hastily.

“About time,” said Maple heavily, stancing down in the rain: “we’ll wait.”

Furrow and the others went ahead reluctantly, not liking to leave their new-found companions behind. But when they were gone Maple was not the least despondent, rather the opposite as he began to talk cheerfully to the remaining guard, extracting from him in no time at all, and without his realizing it, all kind of information about Rowton. So much so indeed that by the time a rough-furred but determined mole came huffing and puffing to see who these strangers at the system’s western portal were, Maple was able in a few short incisive sentences to describe all the main military strengths and weaknesses of the system he had not yet put a paw in.

“Blow me!” exclaimed the Rowton mole, whose name was Whindrell, “you seem to know a lot about such things. Whatmole are you, then, and whither are you bound?”

An authoritative glance from Maple had the guards retreating discreetly, so that Weeth and he could talk to Whindrell confidentially.

“I am Maple of Duncton Wood, and this is Weeth of no fixed abode, my companion and assistant, and a mole I can vouch for.”

“So, you’re a Duncton mole. Then you’ll be on business against the Newborns?”

“You guess aright,” said Maple.

“Oh, it’s no guess, mole, it’s a certainty. Duncton has not failed moledom in the past, and those with a sense of history surely know it will not fail them now that a crisis of faith is upon us again. You are welcome to Rowton, and your advice will be valued. What little I have learned from the moles you brought with you suggests you have the kind of qualities we’ll need... and sooner rather than later. I’m in charge here since my brother died, but I can’t say I know much yet about military matters. But we always believed that with the coming of spring, the Newborn Crusade would begin in earnest...”

“Tell me all you know,” said Maple.

“Not here, mole, but in the comfort of the system. Come, there’s others you should speak to as well as me since we’re all in this together, and between us all we’ll answer your questions. As for your concern for secrecy, it is well-founded – the Newborns have spies everywhere these days, though I doubt there are any left in Rowton.” From the firm way he spoke, and the resolution in his eyes, it was obvious the moles of these parts took unkindly to betrayal. By the same token, thought Maple, they’ll be loyal and steadfast in times of trial and crisis, and though Whindrell might be a bit rough around the edges he can soon be sorted out!

Maple and Weeth stayed for three days in Rowton, during which time they learnt much about the Newborns of both Caer Caradoc and Cannock Chase, the system being on the borderland between the two, and so escaping from the full attentions of either. It was a discovery that made Maple realize that resistance would be easiest in areas peripheral to the Newborns’ different spheres of influence, and communication safest along such borders.

As for Rowton itself, the early impressions he received were broadly correct – the system was well defended on all sides but the open, flatter northern flank was a weakness. But that said, morale was high, not so much because of any successful sustained resistance to the Newborns in the recent past, but because Whindrell inspired confidence and the system had not yet been put to a proper test. Quite how Rowton had gained the reputation of being a safe sanctuary Maple did not know, but moles like Furrow and Myrtle had flocked to it in recent molemonths, and Maple’s view was that it might be wise to make a virtue of necessity and train up the willing moles, and give the system better defences.

But at least the elders had had the sense to realize the danger they were in if any Crusade got underway once spring advanced – hence the guards, and Whindrell’s quick arrival to investigate Maple and Weeth.

So impressed were the Rowton moles by Maple’s rapid understanding of their position, and the warnings he gave as to their vulnerability, and his advice to develop defences on the northern flank, that they offered him there and then a place on their Elder council, and the role of commander of their willing, spirited, but so far undisciplined and untested forces.

He declined, explaining that his mission with Weeth was to make a reconnaissance of Cannock itself – but he promised on his return that way to try to stay a little longer. Meanwhile he had every confidence in Whindrell, provided he was willing to listen to a bit of advice.

“You’ll not find stouter-hearted moles hereabout nor ones more willing to learn,” declared Whindrell proudly. “Why, thanks to the leadership of my late brother we’re an island of nonconformity in a sea of Newborn dogma that stretches from Caradoc to Cannock. Moles know it too, for many refugees like Furrow, Myrtle and the others who came up with you, come to us now.” Which was true, for even since they had been there Maple and Weeth had noticed other bedraggled arrivals, and seen how welcome they were made, and how soon they were found quarters and given tasks.

“I’ll think about your system before I get back,” said Maple, “for you could have an important role to play. Moledom is going to need systems that stance firm and uphold their liberty, and the example of one that does so successfully may save ten more from giving in. Aye, you’ll hear from me again, Whindrell! Meanwhile double your guard, train them, build your defences on the lines I’ll show you before I leave, and always remember that against a strong, organized foe flexibility is what winning is about.”

When they finally set off on their way once more the numbers who came to see them off suggested that their secret was out, and Maple’s origin known.

“No matter!” declared Weeth. “For doesn’t it show how a strong mole and the name of Duncton can inspire others?”

“It’ll be victories that inspire moles, Weeth,” said Maple grimly, “and the extent to which moles like these can keep faith with the Stone and each other in times of hardship.”

It was Furrow, already much improved in strength and health since their first meeting, who accompanied them to the last, and said a final farewell: “There’s no escaping the fact, Maple, sir, that you and Weeth here saved our lives. If you ever need
my
help you ask for it, and Myrtle’s too, and it won’t be wanting.”

There was pride in his voice, and a new light in his eyes, and Weeth knew that Maple meant it when he replied, “For that I’m grateful, mole, and I’ll not forget it. The day is rapidly approaching when it will be upon moles like you that all moledom’s liberty will depend! May the Stone be with you!”

“And you, sir, and with Weeth as well!”

Chapter Fifteen

Maple and Weeth pressed on to Cannock without a break; the rain still fell heavily and the spell of storms continued, and the going was as hard as before. But at least that meant, just as Maple had predicted, that when they crossed the last vale towards the heights of Cannock itself, they were not the only travellers, for many moles were escaping the floods lower down.

In consequence the light and airy tunnels of Cannock were besieged by moles like themselves, and after only a cursory check by a harassed guard they were able to enter; and taking advantage of the temporary chaos in the system, they wandered almost at will and surveyed both the physical defences and the morale of the guards, as well as gathering what evidence they could of the nature and strength of opposition to the Newborns. It greatly helped in all of this that Maple was well kenned regarding the scribings of the several moles who had described events at Cannock during the great War of the Word a century before.

“The defence lines are little different to those established by moles of the Word when they realized that the followers might overrun the system,” explained Maple to Weeth. “But the place is high, and its defences are well constructed and would be hard to take, and only fell originally because by the time followers got here discipline among the disciples of the Word had all but broken down.”

Weeth might know little about military history, but he was good at wheedling information out of moles and soon established that a new commander named Thorne, who was expected daily, had been appointed to the system by Quail, to lead the Crusades out of Cannock into the surrounding systems.

But, interestingly, this process had been partly preempted during the milder winter weather by Newborn zealots led by a young Acting Commander named Squilver who had risen through the ranks and had some hopes, it seemed, of making sufficient mark to be appointed Brother Commander himself.

“Bit of an ambitious, ruthless bastard by all accounts,” said Weeth, “and annoyed not to have got the Brother Commander’s position.”

“Mmm... that’s normal enough, and means little if Thorne’s competent. Indeed, ambitious subordinates only enhance a leader’s abilities if they are properly controlled. Have you learned anything about Thorne?”

“Only that moles say he must be out of favour with Caer Caradoc to be sent here,” replied Weeth. “Cannock is regarded as a dead-end – the systems most prized by the commanders are ones like Rollright, Duncton and Avebury, the last of which was once Quail’s own.”

“The moles I’ve talked to say there’ll be a Brother Adviser with each commander.”

“That’s right, meaning a spiritual adviser. The Brother Commander fights and the Brother Adviser prays!” Weeth’s eyes twinkled at this and they both understood why: divided leadership could mean less effective campaigns.

“But we shouldn’t linger too long here, Maple,” said Weeth, who when they were alone dropped the “sir’, “for the Brother Commander is already on the way.”

“Aye, but we’ve not made contact with any moles in opposition to the Newborns and I’m confident there’ll be some.”

Their chance came two days later when they heard that Squilver had decided that some miscreants should be punished, though for what crimes nomole knew.

“He’s probably just making examples of them to calm things down a bit,” said Weeth.

“And it seems to be working, judging by how quiet the tunnels have suddenly become, and how earnest everymole is trying to look. But I’ll warrant the kind of mole we want to meet will be there, so we’ll go along,” said Maple.

The following day, as they approached the great communal chamber where the arraignment was to take place, to which a general invitation for males in the system to attend had gone out, they felt that same sickening excitement among the Newborns they had experienced during the strettening at Ludlow. On the way they were stopped and questioned more than once and while their claims to be Newborn seemed as accepted as ever, it was becoming obvious that soon they would be assigned a group and a task, and then might find it hard to escape from Cannock.

Weeth was too busy fulminating against the air of excitement that accompanied the coming punishment to notice anything else, but Maple was in watchful and cautious mood, the more so when they were stopped a third time and a senior mole, an Inquisitor by the look of him, nodded them past but told them to follow others ahead down one way and not another which different moles were taking.

“Why
that
way. Brother?” asked Maple amiably, but watching carefully.

“We have to spread you brothers to different parts of the chamber,” he replied, his stance hard and his response a little too smooth for Maple’s liking.

“Right!” Maple said urgently as they went the way they were told. “You stay close to me, Weeth, and keep your eyes open. There’s trickery apaw here...”

Behind them more moles pushed forward, forcing them into those in front, invoking a feeling of crushing crowds which added to their unease. If Maple said there was likely to be trickery, Weeth was not going to doubt it, and they went cheek by jowl, and did not separate when the tunnel led them out into a communal chamber only half full of moles. Its lay-out was grimly familiar to both of them, for it had the same raised dais and guarded entrances as the much larger version they had seen in Caer Caradoc.

“Keep close, Weeth, and make for a place near that portal at the back,” said Maple, indicating a particular one. Yet even as they pressed across the chamber towards it, the crowd thickened rapidly, making their progress increasingly difficult, and the problem of keeping together ever greater. Despite the struggle they experienced at the end, when they had to shove their way through a group of moles who took none too kindly to their efforts, the mood in the chamber was still jocular and excited. It was maintained by some cheerful moles up on the dais who were singing rhythmic and jolly songs, though Maple soon pointed out that behind them, peeping out from the shadows, were the pointed snouts and sharp eyes of what looked like more guardmoles.

The crowd about them was now shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank, and Weeth felt the first trickle of sweat at his neck and face as the chamber warmed up, and they struggled to maintain their position by the guarded portal.