The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison (26 page)

‘But you can’t burn her, Isaac. It is unspeakable!’ He appealed to the crowd, ‘Surely you cannot have sunk so low to allow this. Never has a mouse been burned in Fennywolde. As for you, Nettle, I’m surprised. This has the smack of paganism in it.’

The fieldmice looked anxiously at their leader. Mr Woodruffe was right, they had never burned a mouse before. ‘But what are we to do with her?’ asked a frightened Mrs Nep.

Isaac snarled and yanked Audrey from Mr Woodruffe’s grip. ‘Then she shall hang!’ he proclaimed. ‘Let her choke, just as her creature choked Hodge and Young Whortle.’ He signalled to the crowd and they swarmed along the ditch, with him at their head and Audrey stumbling at his side.

‘We’ve got to do something,’ said Arthur when his captors released him. ‘Will they really hang her, Mr Scuttle?’

‘Fraid so lad,’ he answered in dismay. ‘Gladwin wrung her paws together.

‘We’re not done yet boy,’ said Mr Woodruffe.

‘Come on!’ They ran after the angry crowd, and pushed their way through.

Twit remained behind. He had never felt so useless in all his life. He was too small to do anything useful. He wished that Thomas Triton was there – he would have shown these mice a thing or two with his sword. But the midshipmouse was not there and there were far too many fieldmice to fight against anyway. This needed a cool head and lots of wits. Twit, the simple country mouse, had neither. He was the one with ‘no cheese upstairs’, the butt of every joke. Now the life of a friend was in, danger and he could think of nothing to help.

Suddenly he gasped. ‘Could I?’ he asked himself. ‘Would it work?’ There was only one way to find out. He rushed forward.

At the yew tree a tight circle of mice had formed. In the centre were Mr Nettle and Audrey. Her wide eyes were rolling in terror and their whites were showing. A straw rope had been slung over the ‘hanging branch’ and a noose had been tied in one end.

Mr Woodruffe barged in followed by Arthur. ‘This must not happen!’ he cried. ‘Execution must only be as a result of a trial and only then if the accused is found guilty.’

‘We know she’m guilty,’ yelled Mr Nep. The crowd roared their agreement. ‘This is against the Greenlaws!’ continued Mr Woodruffe.

Isaac held out a trembling paw. ‘Thou knowest full well the respect and honour I hold for the mighty Green. I would not do this thing if the law did not permit. It is you who have forgotten the law, Woodruffe. Did not Fenny himself declare that all witches must be put to death?’ The mob roared again and waved their torches. ‘Bind their paws so they may not interfere!’ commanded Isaac.

Both Arthur’s and Mr Woodruffe’s paws were tightly bound and strong arms were clenched about their necks.

‘No, no,’ wailed Arthur. ‘My sister’s not a witch believe me.’

Madame Akkikuyu left her place of shadow and moved towards the yew. ‘Quickly Akkikuyu,’ said Nicodemus. ‘I must see! The girl must not die by hanging, she must be alive when the flame takes her. If you can cut her down before she is dead we may still be able to perform the spell. But hurry, and keep away from those torches, the heat of them is agony for me.’ The fortune-teller hurried forward, a confusion of loyalties whirling round her jumbled head.

Mr Nettle put the noose round Audrey’s neck and pulled the knot down tightly. Then he took hold of the other end and began to draw it down. Arthur closed his eyes.

Yelps and squeals broke out of the crowd and the mice jumped as something bit and clawed its way through. It was Twit. He didn’t care how he got past. He ran into the ring and before anyone could stop him he had slipped the rope from Audrey’s throat.

‘Leave her be!’ roared Isaac, looming over him with his paw raised.

A smouldering green fire seemed to issue from Twit’s eyes and Isaac faltered. ‘I come to claim her!’ Twit shouted at the top of his voice. ‘I claim her in the name of the Green.’

‘How dare you blaspheme!’ growled Mr Nettle. ‘She is for the noose.’

‘Do you forget your own laws, Nettle?’ Twit barked back at him.

‘What laws?’

‘The law of the gallows,’ snarled Twit.

‘The gallows law,’ repeated everyone in astonishment – surely Twit was not that stupid.

Mr Woodruffe reminded Isaac as he stood, searching his memory. ‘The gallows law runs thus,’ he said. ‘Any may invoke the law of the gallows – if a willing spouse can be found beneath the hanging tree then the accused, whatever the crime, will be reprieved.’

‘A spouse!’ mocked Isaac. ‘Who would marry a witch?’

‘I will,’ said Twit proudly. ‘I invoke the law and offer my paw in marriage to Audrey Brown.’

The crowd rippled in discontent and Nicodemus hissed in Madame Akkikuyu’s ear.

‘No! The girl must not marry -it will bind her up in the Greenlaws and she shall be useless to me. Stop this now.’

The fortune-teller entered the circle, but instead of obeying Nicodemus she said, ‘Mousey must marry follow the law of your Green. Join the two before you feel his anger.’ In the centre of all the fieldmice the tattoo dared not move on her ear but it glared at her venomously.

‘Imbecile!’ it whispered harshly.

Isaac stared at the rat in disbelief. He had made a brass for the destruction of Audrey at her request. Why was she changing sides now? ‘But she is to blame!’ he said blankly. ‘Are you telling me now that she must go free?’.

‘She must, it is the law!’ demanded Twit. ‘I call on the Green Mouse to witness all that goes on here. He shall know who disobeys him.’

The crowd murmured. There was no getting away from it. If Twit married Audrey then she could not be hanged.’

‘No,’ cried Mr Nep as he sensed their doubt. ‘We cannot let her go unpunished. My son is dead.’

It was Isaac who answered him. ‘Silence Nep. The way has been shown, though it grieves me no less than you. We must obey the law or we ourselves are guilty. But hear me, tomorrow we shall drive Twit and the witch to our borders and banish them. Then if any find them crossing our lands they have the right to do with them as they see fit. They are outcasts.’ He turned back to Twit and Audrey.

‘Now, take the witch’s paw in yours, William Scuttle,’ said Mr Nettle.

Twit looked at her. She was much calmer now and she stared back at him with gratitude. ‘Do you mean to go through with it?’ she asked him.

‘If’n I don’t marry ’ee Aud they’ll lynch yer,’ he replied.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Audrey mumbled.

‘Just say “yes” an’ save yer neck,’ advised Twit.

‘Kneel ye,’ ordered Isaac, ‘and humble thyselves before the Green Mouse.’ Audrey felt someone cut the ropes which bit into her wrists and she dropped to her knees beside Twit.

‘Dost thou, William Scuttle, take unto thyself this mouse, Audrey Brown? To cherish through the Winter and revel with in the summer? Forswearing all others until the grass grows green over you both?’

‘I does,’ said Twit.

‘Who blesses the husband?’ asked Isaac. It was usual at mouse weddings for both the bride and groom to receive a blessing. This could not come from their families. It was usually friends who performed the task, but at this torchlit marriage everyone wondered who would dare bless the union of
a witch and a fool.

‘I do,’ said a solemn voice and Mr Woodruffe shook off his guards. He wriggled his paws free of the ropes and stood before Twit.

‘May the Green bless and protect you,’ he said with feeling and he placed his right paw on Twit’s shoulder.

‘Thank ’ee,’ replied Twit gratefully.

Then it was Audrey’s turn.

Dost thou, Audrey Brown,’ intoned Isaac bitterly, ‘take unto thyself this mouse William Scuttle? To cherish through the winter and revel with in the summer? Forswearing all others until the grass grows green over you both?’

Audrey tearfully thought of Piccadilly. Sobbing she uttered, ‘I do.’

‘Who blesses the wife?’ Isaac looked around. No-one said anything. He smiled. There might be a hanging yet, for no marriage was complete without the two blessings, and he who blessed the groom could not bless the bride as well.

Arthur gazed at the fieldmice pleadingly. ‘Please, someone, anyone, don’t let Audrey die.’ But the mice shuffled their feet and hung their heads.

Isaac chuckled and was about to pronounce the ceremony void when a figure stepped up to Audrey.

‘I bless mouselet!’ declared Madame Akkikuyu. Isaac glared at her but the fortune-teller came and knelt before her friend and said tenderly, ‘May his mighty Greenness bless and protect you for always, and may you forgive Akkikuyu. Remember that she love you and want you to be happy in summer light – it’s all I ever wanted, my mouselet.’ She leaned over to kiss Audrey’s forehead.

‘Thank you,’ she wept.

A big tear streaked down Akkikuyu’s nose. ‘Ach! I always blub at weddings.’

Isaac concluded the ceremony.

‘May the Mighty Green join these two together, through winter, harvest, youth and age. Let no creature come between them for now they are under the Green’s great mantle.’ He sucked his teeth and said, ‘Rise Scuttle and Scuttle.’

‘You better be gone before midday tomorrow,’ shouted Mr Nep, ‘or I swear I’ll hurl you both into the fire myself.’ The crowd began to disperse, and drift back into the field.

Twit’s parents rushed forward and hugged their son and daughter-in-law. Gladwin was tearful, but Elijah was proud. ‘There’s another Mr and Mrs Scuttle round here now,’ he beamed.

‘Not for long though Dad,’ said Twit. ‘Aud may be my wife but I don’t ’spect her to stay wi’ me.’ He turned to the new Mrs Scuttle and said softly. ‘’S all right Aud. I know you aren’t keen on me in that way so p’raps it’s best if’n you go home tomorrow eh?’

‘What about you Twit?’ Audrey asked. ‘And I can’t go home anyway – what about Oswald and the Starwife’s bargain?’

‘Let’s go and have something to eat,’ suggested Arthur, ‘then we can decide what to do.’ Under the yew tree Madame Akkikuyu stood alone, snivelling into her shawl and drying her eyes.

‘You fool,’ rebuked Nicodemus. ‘You interfering cretin! We might have had the girl if you had not blessed her. My plans are ruined now – Audrey Brown has been tied to the Greenlaws, the spell cannot work’

‘Mouselet name Scuttle now,’ checked Akkikuyu sadly, ‘and I glad you not use her – she my friend. Akkikuyu not have many friends, mouselet only one.’

The tattoo writhed with frustration. ‘Curse you you Moroccan ditch drab. The spell I have prepared needs a female sacrifice, one who is of age but has no mousebrass. Am I to be marooned in the abyss till the end of time?’

Madame Akkikuyu stared out along the bank. There sat Alison Sedge, miserable and dejected. She had longed for Audrey’s death and now her enemy lived and was married. With Jenkin dead, Alison knew she would never marry.

Akkikuyu frowned as Alison stood up. No mouse-brass hung from her neck.

‘Nico,’ she whispered. ‘Akkikuyu find another.’

The tattoo stared out and grinned. ‘Excellent. We shall perform the ritual tonight. Prepare the girl for sacrifice.’

Alison Sedge kicked the tufts of dry, scruffy grass and turned to follow the others back into the field.

‘Hoy, mousey, wait for I.’ The rat’s voice startled her. Crossly she waited for Madame Akkikuyu to come out from under the yew tree.

‘What you want?’ asked Alison rudely. She did not like Madame Akkikuyu – she blamed her for bringing Audrey to Fennywolde in the first place.

The fortune-teller approached, smiling sweetly. ‘Let me help poor mousey,’ she said. ‘Ah, but mousey has lost pretty dangler. Where it go?’

‘I got rid of it!’ snapped Alison. What business was it of the rat anyway? ‘What do you mean you could help me?’ she added in a sullen tone.

Madame Akkikuyu walked round the girl and sprinkled fragments of yellow leaves over her. In a secret, low whisper she said, ‘I have spells mousey, bring disaster on your enemies.’

The mouse regarded her through the screen of fluttering leaves. What was she up to? wondered Alison. ‘What enemies?’ she asked stubbornly.

The rat moved closer. ‘Those who rob you of suitors – those who get in your way sweet mousey. Jumped up girls not as pretty as you.’

‘You mean that town mouse?’ she interrupted. ‘Yes, I don’t like her, but if you hadn’t blessed the marriage back then she’d have danced the gallows jig. What are you going on about now, you barmy so-and-so?’

‘Akkikuyu stop hanging yes, because that too quick and easy for her. She too evil! She put spell on Jenky boy to make him fall for her. She led him into open and let Mahooot make him owl bait.’

Alison exploded with rage. ‘Is this true? I ought to go and tear her apart! All that butter-wouldn’t-melt routine. I hate her. I knew my Jenkin didn’t really fancy her. Tell me what I can do.’

The fortune-teller grinned. Alison Sedge had been an easy fish to catch. It would be easy throwing her on the fire – how could she loathe her mouselet so much?

‘Akkikuyu will cast spell. You help, go get wood for bonfire.’

Alison hurriedly ran to collect some sticks.

‘Well Nico,’ the rat began, ‘what you think?’

‘She is perfect Akkikuyu,’ gloated the voice, ‘did you feel her spite and anger? They are strong, raw emotions. Her life essence will be most eagerly received by the gate-keepers of the abyss. Tonight I shall be free again.’

Akkikuyu cleared a space on the high bank. She gathered some stones and arranged them in a circle, leaving it incomplete so that she could enter. She waited for Alison to return, then, once all the wood they needed was within, she sealed the ring with them inside. ‘Now mousey,’ she said, ‘we must not break through the stones till spell complete.’ She began to build the bonfire. From her bag she pulled out the skull of the frog she had killed and placed it at the heart of the framework. Then around it she sprinkled the magical herbs and flowers that she had carefully gathered at night. At last the fortune-teller announced that all was ready. She stood back and admired her handiwork with Alison. It was a tall pyramid of dry branches and twigs, a satisfying result to her labours.

‘Light it,’ urged Alison, ‘cast your spell.’

Nicodemus chuckled to himself. ‘Give her the crystal,’ he muttered to Akkikuyu.

The rat brought from her bag the glass globe and caressed it lovingly with her claws. ‘Stand there and hold this!’ she told Alison.

Alison took the smooth globe in her palms and gazed at it wondrously. What a marvellous mysterious object! How lovely it was with those swirls of colour in its centre.

‘What is it?’ she gasped.

‘It is my delight – my peace,’ Akkikuyu replied sadly, ‘and soon it must smash.’

‘Will you light the fire now?’ asked Alison. She was feeling impatient and wanted to get on with the ceremony. Akkikuyu nodded. ‘Yes, I light fire, but first my Nico must be safe, from heat.’

‘Nico?’ asked Alison suspiciously. ‘Who is Nico?’ She stared around her, trying to see who Akkikuyu was talking about.

‘I AM NICODEMUS!’ cried the tattoo triumphantly. Alison whirled Around, then stepped back in alarm.

‘The face! The face on your ear – It moved, it spoke!’ she spluttered aghast.

Nicodemus mocked her: ‘I move – I speak. Hah hah hah.’