The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison (18 page)

‘So I can still be a sentry?’ asked Arthur.

‘Aye lad, you can be a sentry for as long as you likes – till you goes home.’

‘Great!’ shouted Arthur, dancing around. ‘When can I start?’

‘Right now, if you’re willin’. Mr. Woodruffe’s a-waitin’ on you.’

So, with great excitement, they all went over to the wicker-throne where the King of the Field sat with his staff of office on his knee.

‘A blessed Eve to you,’ he smiled warmly.

They all bowed and curtseyed to him and Audrey contrived to whisper into Mrs Scuttle’s ear,

‘Eve?’

‘Midsummer’s Eve, child,’ Gladwin murmured.

‘So Master Brown, you wish to become a sentry and guard our Hall from enemies. Is this so?’ said the King of the Field.

‘Yes Sir,’ said Arthur keenly.

‘Majesty!’ hissed Twit.

‘Yes Majesty,’ corrected Arthur.

‘Who presents this mouse to the King of the Field?’ asked Mr Woodruffe solemnly.

‘I do Majesty,’ chirped Twit. ‘He is a friend of mine and a braver lad you never did see.’ He found it hard to stifle the chuckles as he described Arthur to the king. He had to follow the correct procedure which had been unchanged for countless years.

‘Now you must swear loyalty to me, your king, and the land of Fenny.’

Arthur nodded to show that he understood.

‘Raise your right paw, Art,’ prompted Twit. ‘Now hold this hawthorn leaf.’

‘The hawthorn represents virtue and honour, Master Brown,’ explained Mr Woodruffe. ‘But it is also the sacred tree of the Green Mouse and we shall name him as a witness. Are you ready to be sworn in?’

Arthur’s lips had gone dry and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He wished his father was alive to see this. ‘Yes Majesty.’

‘Repeat after me,’ commenced Mr Woodruffe. ‘I, Arthur of the brown mice, visitor from the grey town, do most solemnly swear by holy leaf and in the Green’s name to protect the Hall of Corn from any evil, though my life should fail in the attempt, till by His Majesty’s leave I am released from service.’

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he finished the last sentence. Elijah nudged his wife. ‘That’s the bit we put in,’ he told her proudly.

‘Now young sentry,’ began the king briskly, ‘you may go about your duty. Have you been taught all the signals and alarms yet?’

‘Why no, Your Majesty.’

‘See to it William Scuttle,’ ordered Mr Woodruffe with a twinkle in his eye.

They all bowed and curtseyed again and as they were leaving Twit said to Arthur, ‘They’re real simple when you knows ’em. Blackbird cries and funny whistles – that sort of stuff. We usually use them to tell each other when it’s dinner time though. Mind you, the most important alarm of all and one you must never use ’cept in the direst need is to yell ‘Fenny’ at the top of your voice.’

Audrey resumed her conversation with Mrs. Scuttle. ‘Will you be celebrating the Eve tonight at all? We do in the Skirtings.’

‘I remember, yes we have a bit of a party. This afternoon all us mums and all the girls are going to make some bunting. There’s a lovely group of rose trees over by the hedge and we thread the petals on to a string. It does look jolly.’

‘Could I come along?’ asked Audrey. ‘I can’t imagine anything more boring than watching my brother climb a stalk all day long. I haven’t a clue why he wants to do it.’

‘Hah,’ said Gladwin. ‘You sound like you’ve lived in Fennywolde all your life. We can’t understand why the menfolk love it either. Anyway, you’d be most welcome dear. Oh there’ll be such a time tonight! In the excitement of William returning and the Hall-making going on I clean forgot all about the Eve myself till Elijah asked about it last night.’

The sun was climbing higher in the brilliant sky. The heat hammered down and Audrey felt dizzy. ‘Is there somewhere cool I could sit, Mrs Scuttle?’ she inquired, wiping her forehead.

Gladwin tutted and scolded herself. ‘Why, there I go, forgetting myself again – when I first came here I was limp as a lettuce for weeks. House mice aren’t used to all this sunshine. Mind you, I can’t remember it being quite so hot as this before.’ She gazed around at the merry families with their plump, pleasant wives and red-eared husbands. This is what she had given up her old home and family for and she had never once regretted it. Suddenly she clicked back to the present and looked at Audrey sheepishly.

‘Oh dear,’ she flustered, ‘there’s me wandering off again. You want to get cool don’t you dear – well the best place I used to go when I felt a bit off with the heat was the still pool.’

‘Yes,’ said Audrey, ‘Arthur told me that’s where you get all your water from.’

‘Now the ditch has dried up we have no choice. You should see poor Grommel trying to carry a full bucket of water with his bad back – poor thing.’

Mrs Scuttle eventually pointed to where the pool was. ‘Just follow the ditch and you can’t miss it.’ Audrey set off. She went through the great doors of the Hall and walked straight into Jenkin Nettle.

‘Hello miss,’ he grinned.

‘Oh,’ muttered Audrey, blushing. ‘Good morning Jenkin,’ she added lamely.

‘You looks nice this mornin’ miss,’ he said, enjoying the situation.

Audrey giggled and thanked him. ‘But I always try and look this nice for Arthur.’ And she sauntered out of the field with Jenkin’s eyes following her admiringly. The younger children were playing dust slides near the elm roots.

‘You’ll catch it when your mothers see you,’ laughed Audrey.

The grubby children considered her for a moment, wondering whether they ought to say anything in reply but cleaner, older sisters grabbed them by the paws and dragged them away whispering at them.

‘No Josh you mustn’t – you know what Mam told you
‘
bout
that one.’

Audrey was taken aback. Evidently, Mr Nettle’s outburst yesterday had been the chief topic of Fennywolde gossip. Audrey was surprised that so many had actually believed his ridiculous accusations.

‘Still,’ she shrugged, ‘it takes a long time to make friends and time is something I’ll have plenty of here.’

She carried on along the ditch, past the elms and the winter quarters and an entrance where the sound of Mr Nettle hammering on the mouse brasses rang out in time to his deep voice booming out hymns to the Green Mouse.

Soon she found that she had wandered into a patch of dismal shade and she shivered to herself. Rearing high above her was the lonely yew tree, the frightening tree of death. Its branches poked out like bony fingers and sharp claws. She hurried on, past that place – it was much too eerie and dark for her liking. No grass grew in its shadow and no birds sang in its branches.

The floor of the ditch began to get softer. Instead of dry choking dust it had become a rich brown mud, which yielded under her little pink feet like a dark fruit cake that had been cooked too quickly. The surface was crusty yet underneath it was still gooey and spongy.

It was a sign that she was not far from the pool. Soon her footprints began to fill tip with water as she passed. She pushed through the trailing leaves of an ivy creeper and found herself staring into the still pool. It was as if she had crossed the threshold into another world, a cool, silent place where magic was almost visible. The harsh sunlight was filtered through the layers of bright new leaves and dappled the water with great splashes of shimmering green, which in turn were reflected back and bounced around once more. Dragonflies in their polished emerald armour flashed over the water’s surface chasing gnats. Fine trails of bubbles slipped through the water then burst silently, too small to make a ripple. The still pool was a beautiful place.

Audrey stared, not even daring to breathe in case everything should disappear -so much did it look like a fairy grotto. The edge-of the pool was fringed with plants: water-plaintains, horse-tails and yellow rattles grew there. Behind one clump a husky voice began to speak.

‘Alison Sedge – you are the loveliest thing in creation.’

Audrey looked up, startled.

‘You are lovelier than the flowers in your hair. Just look at you. That hair, the goddess would be proud of it.’

Audrey put her paw over her mouth. She wanted to laugh. It was a girl’s voice that spoke.

‘Those eyes – they’re luscious they are. A boy could drown in those.’

Audrey crept round the plants to see who it was it didn’t sound like any of the girls she had met the day before

‘Those lips – don’t you want to eat them up lads? A finer cherry-red pair of lips there never were, won’t someone pick them?’ Now there came a sound of pretend kissing.

Through the leaves Audrey saw Alison Sedge. She was gazing at herself in the water, enchanted by her own reflection. Her thick hair hung down either side of her face nearly touching the water. This was the reason Audrey did not recognise the girl immediately. She decided that it was rude to stay there without letting the mooning fieldmouse know she was there so she coughed politely.

Alison Sedge whipped round and stared in horror at Audrey, embarrassment, shame and surprise all registering in her beautiful eyes.

‘I’m sorry for intruding,’ said Audrey. ‘I’m Audrey Brown – a friend of Twit. I don’t think we’ve met.’ And then she remembered, this was the girl who had glared at her that first night when Madame Akkikuyu chased away the owl.

Alison composed herself and groomed her pony tails back behind her ears.

‘Saw you other day,’ she said mildly.

‘Oh, when?’ asked Audrey, not seeing the trap.

‘When that rat woman made you look real stupid,’ Alison tittered.

‘Oh!’ was all Audrey could find to say.

‘Your brother know Dimsel’s after him?’ asked Alison, her subtle mind moving on to a different subject.

‘Erm . . . no,’ replied Audrey, trying to keep up with the shifting conversation.

‘Not much of a catch – either of them,’ remarked Alison outrageously.

Audrey choked and spluttered. How rude this girl was. She could find nothing to say in reply. When she did manage to recover her wits, Audrey caught Alison running a critical eye over her dress and collar. This was better; Alison’s plain frock was no match for them. The other girl sniffed and looked away.

‘Oh no,’ thought Audrey and she gave her tail a slight flick. The silver bells tinkled sweetly.

Alison jumped in surprise and stared at them coldly. Then she smiled and fiddled abstractedly with her mousebrass – it tinkled too: maybe not as sweetly, but it was enough to draw Audrey’s eyes to it. She recognised the sign of grace and beauty and rolled her eyes heavenward.

‘You not old enough to have a brass then?’ queried Alison.

‘I did have one,’ said Audrey, ‘but I lost it.’

‘Careless,’ the other observed coolly.

Audrey did not feel like explaining about the altar of Jupiter to Alison so she said nothing.

‘Young Whortle’s better now.’ Alison changed the subject again.

‘Yes,’ said Audrey – this was another dig about her foolish display yesterday morning. Well, she thought, if that’s all you can throw at me, go ahead.

‘Skinny Samuel’s gettin’ better too,’ resumed Alison.

Audrey decided to join in this little game. In an innocent voice she said, ‘That Jenkin’s a nice boy isn’t he?’

The hit went home and Alison scowled. Through clenched teeth she managed to say, ‘The Nettles are all barmy. I’d have nowt to do with ’em.’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ sighed Audrey demurely. ‘Jenkin’s always sweet to me.’

‘He’s like that to all the common sort,’ spat Alison. She didn’t like it when someone got the better of her and was not used to her remarks thrown back with added sting. ‘I had to tell him to stop pesterin’ me.’ she added.

‘Said I looked nice this morning and always calls me “miss”.’ Audrey held out her paw to examine her nails – something she never did usually.

Alison pursed her lips, then her eyebrows arched craftily and said, ‘His dad’s loony too – wonder how he knew ‘bout your daft dolly though?’

Audrey understood at once, and for her the game ended.

‘Can be dangerous livin’ in the country if’n you’re not used to it,’ droned Alison. ‘And try an’ take what don’t belong to you.’

‘Oh I’m quite safe,’ said Audrey defiantly and with an edge to her voice. ‘You see I don’t scare easily – if I come across a snake I don’t run away.’

‘Really?’ Alison sounded bored and unimpressed. ‘You’d get bitten then.’

‘Oh no,’ Audrey assured her calmly. ‘You see Madame Akkikuyu and I are best friends. I’d get some of her potions and shrivel that snake up.’ She brought her face close to Alison’s and added darkly, ‘Either that or I’d choke it with my bare paws just for the fun of it.’

Alison backed away – she did not like the look in Audrey’s eyes. She tossed her head and said, ‘I can’t waste my time here all day.’

‘Yes,’ smiled Audrey ‘I saw you wasting your time before.’

Alison huffed and flounced off.

Audrey shook her head. So that was Alison Sedge! Lily Clover was right – she did have claws; it might not be wise to get on the wrong side of her but it was too late now.

Audrey lay back and enjoyed the tranquil magic of the pool in peace.

The morning turned to lunch time. On sentry duty, Arthur’s stomach began to growl. He looked over to Twit and signalled that he was about to climb down.

Twit waved back cheerily but made it clear that he was quite happy to stay on duty a little longer. Arthur scrambled down the stalk and went in search of food.’

A narrow path veered away from the main corridor and he wondered if it was a short cut to the Hall. It seemed to go in the right direction so he took it and began to whistle one of Kempe’s songs.

He stopped in his tracks, something was wrong he could feel it. Cautiously he continued further along the path. What was that in the way up ahead?

‘Oh no,’ muttered Arthur under his breath. He ran over to the dark lumpy shape which sprawled awkwardly over the ground. At his feet was the body of a mouse.

For a couple of minutes Arthur could only stand and gape, shock freezing his limbs. Then he knelt down and bravely laid his paw on the sad little body. It was stone cold. The mouse must have been lying there for hours. Gingerly, he turned the body over, and squealed in fright. It was Hodge. He recognised him at once. But it was not just that which upset him. Hodge’s face was ghastly to look on. Like a mask of horror, the eyes were popping out, and the mouth was fixed in a wild and silent scream. It seemed almost as if Hodge had died of some terrible fright. But Arthur could see savage marks on his throat and his neck looked pathetically thin and squashed.