The Deptford Mice 3: The Final Reckoning (21 page)

Morgan waved his claws for silence and led them to the middle of the empty building. ‘No doubt yer all dyin’ to know what I brought yer here for,’ he addressed them smarmily. ‘Too right Stumpy!’ they replied curtly, stomping: their aching feet on the ice-rasping ground.

‘Then know this,’ he told them. ‘There dwells here a power greater than the world has ever known, mightier than a mountain, wiser than the night and stronger than Death.’

The rats looked at one another. ‘He’s flipped his lid,’ they mumbled in surprise.

‘Idiots!’ snapped Morgan. ‘Lice fodder! Listen, I speak the truth.’ He threw back his head and raised his arms in exultation. ‘Hear me Lord of the Deadly Dark,’ he cried, ‘witness the subjects I bring to you!’

The army’s initial astonishment at Old Stumpy’s sudden madness turned to anger as they smelled betrayal – they had been tricked! They thought of the long, dreadful swim and the murder of Smiff and Kelly and growls snarled in their throats. They could have stayed in Holeborn after all. Yellow teeth were bared and ground together as eyes shone red and blazed furiously at the piebald rat. The army closed tightly round him with deadly intent and slavering jaws. Vinny dropped the standard and joined them, eager for the kill.

‘Master?’ Morgan called out as the first blow struck his head.

The rats pounced on him with hatred burning in them, but at that moment a terrific rumble shook the building and they paused in alarm. Vinny drew his flat head into his shoulders and looked up. ‘AAAIIEE!’ he screamed.

His fellows stared at the icicled ceiling and uttered squeals of fright and dismay. There, forming amid the frost, were two large, cold eyes.

‘It’s Him!’ they screeched, scrabbling over one another in panic. Morgan let loose a triumphant hooting laugh and backed away.

Jupiter purred. The walls trembled and the ground shuddered. The rats were thrown down and with howling, terrified faces they struck the floor. Morgan bowed reverently to his old master.

As the shape of the grotesquely huge cat spirit formed high above, the wailing rats fought each other to get to the broken window but it was no use. Jupiter laughed at their puny efforts and his voice cut into their hearts like a knife of ice.

‘Come my subjects,’ he boomed, ‘worship me and my beautiful cold.’

The rats cried pitifully, cutting themselves on the broken glass in their struggle to get out, but it was too late. Jupiter roared and his breath hailed down on them. The icicles broke from the ceiling, raining bitter death on the rats below. Screams and squeals seared the air as the rats were impaled by the ice spears. Their aim was deadly, smashing through the chest of every one of them. In a moment it was over; not one rat was left alive. The power station was filled with death. The hundreds of fallen rats stared unseeing at the spears in their broken bodies. A faint frost was already spreading out from the evil spikes and the countless eyes glazed over with rime.

Morgan staggered through the frozen corpses.’ At last the spell wore off, the scales fell from his eyes and he was free of Jupiter’s magic. With a sick stomach Morgan realized what he had done.

A wicked voice chuckled above. Jupiter had his old lieutenant back. It amused him to keep Morgan alive, despairing in the knowledge of how he had led his loyal followers to their deaths. The rat had finally achieved everything he had desired and Jupiter had taken it from him. Morgan fell to his knees and wept for his lads. How could he have done this to them? In his corrupt heart he cursed Jupiter and wished he had died too – better that than cower in his shadow once more.

‘Take your place at my side,’ Jupiter hissed at him. ‘Be my high priest and commander of my armies.’

Morgan sobbed and hid his face. He was trapped and enslaved by this fiend forever. Bitterly he agreed. What else could he do? ‘Yes, my . . . Lord,’ he stammered sorrowfully.

A shadow flicked across the broken window. With a shocked, appalled face Piccadilly hurried away from the power station. He had seen it all and his mind was reeling. Scurrying behind came Barker. He wore an odd expression – the barmy rat seemed to be impressed rather than frightened.

* * *

Thomas Triton swigged the rum and his throat burned deliciously. He had never needed a drop so badly in his entire life – what a terrible night it had been. He passed the bowl to Arthur and the young mouse drank it down, spluttering afterwards and grinning at the tingling sensation that tickled down his tail.

They were gradually thawing in the warm quarters of the midshipmouse. After Jupiter had stolen the stars he rose from the observatory like a terrible demon from the dark times and he passed overhead screeching with hellish laughter. Slowly the mice came to and discovered a stark, grey dawn rising drably about them. Without uttering a word they staggered with frozen limbs down the hill. Wearily Thomas guided Arthur to the Cutty Sark where, trembling, they crawled into the figurehead and lit every candle they could find.

Arthur’s paws itched at his growing chilblains, and he rubbed them till they were red and blotchy. He had never seen this place before and he gazed with interest at the cheery maps and faded pictures of exotic places that adorned the old sailor’s quarters. Thomas’s sword glowed on the wooden wall, sparkling brightly in the orange light of the candle flame. Arthur liked the model ship Thomas had built and he examined it carefully as the midshipmouse stuffed his pipe with tobacco and lit it. Both mice remained silent for some time, not wishing to disturb the other’s peace.

Blue smoke rose from the pipe and gathered about Thomas’s head, ‘Do you remember what happened last night?’ he said at last.

Arthur looked at the smoke that puffed out of his mouth and nodded quickly. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Jupiter was there and he made such a dreadful noise that we passed out.’

Thomas considered him through the curling smoke and grunted, ‘Um, it’s a good job we weren’t out for long, we’d have perished in this weather for sure. The midwinter death would’ve netted us.’ He stared at a small lead anchor charm that lay near the model ship and like some ghostly oracle of the deep, briny waves, spoke gravely through the hanging pipe smoke. ‘There was something you did not see matey. That black-hearted villain stole the stars last night.’ He held his paw up to silence Arthur’s ridicule. ‘I know it sounds daft but it’s what I saw. And tell me, do you now doubt that his powers can do such a thing?’

Arthur had no answer to that. ‘What shall we do?’ he asked meekly.

The midshipmouse shrugged and drew on his pipe. ‘I don’t know, maybe nothing, but we must go back to the Skirtings and consult the Starwife. We can only be certain that this is not the end of Jupiter’s schemes.’ He rolled off his bunk and tapped the pipe on the side. ‘Get yourself together mate, we’re off again.’

* * *

The Starwife was mourning for the stars. From the instant Jupiter began his incantation she sensed his dark purpose and knew she was powerless to prevent him. She had remained in the freezing yard to witness the destruction of the heavens and when it was all over and the void came flooding in she limped back into the old house a pathetic, broken figure.

The dawn had been bleak and the snow storm raged savagely outside. Audrey listened to the blizzard beating against the house, wondering what other catastrophes lay ahead. She could hardly believe that the stars had all disappeared and she prayed that Arthur and Thomas were safe. The mice of the Skirtings were gathered round the Hall fire, hungry and afraid. Master Oldnose recited a prayer, calling on the Green Mouse for deliverance. Everyone joined in, paws clasped beneath their chins and voices lifted in despair.

Audrey would not take part. She knew that it was no good. The Green Mouse was dead and could not hear them. His power was for the spring and summer only. She wandered away from the fireside, past the kneeling mice to where the Starwife rocked on her heels by the stairs. The old squirrel appeared worse than ever, her tear-stained cheeks had caved in and her fragile skull could plainly be seen. Her arms were nothing more than brittle sticks loosely wrapped with wasted flesh and her rib cage protruded so much from her body that you could almost see her frail heart pitter-pattering behind the rattling ribs. Audrey guessed that she would not live much longer.

A milky eye fluttered open and focused smartly on the girl. ‘Don’t you fret child,’ said the Starwife hoarsely, ‘you haven’t got a corpse in your Hall not yet.’ She managed a faint smile and turned stiffly. ‘So, you are not praying with everyone else,’ she observed dryly. ‘I see your mother there, why do you not join her?’

‘It won’t be any use,’ Audrey replied, ‘he can’t help us this time.’

The Starwife nodded feebly. ‘True enough. While the Unbeest keeps spring at bay, the Green Mouse cannot answer, even if he does hear them. You are a sensible child – too much so perhaps.’ She fingered her silver acorn, the pale lids slipped over the eyes once more and her head fell drowsily onto her chest.

Audrey reluctantly left her and returned to the fire where, the prayers having finished, Master Oldnose began singing songs from the spring celebration to lighten everyone’s spirits. It did not succeed. The attempts were half-hearted and the sound dismal. He abandoned that and tried to think of something else. The hours ticked by and the snow continued to fall steadily.

The afternoon was just creeping up on them when Algy Coltfoot jumped to his feet and whispered, ‘Shush! Something’s coming up the cellar steps.’

The mice murmured worriedly and Mr Cockle took a burning stick from the fire and held it before him, ready for any trouble. The cellar door creaked open and they all fell back.

‘Arthur!’ exclaimed Audrey, dashing forward to hug her astonished brother.

‘Gerroff Sis,’ he protested, pushing her away and blushing as his mother ran forward to kiss him.

Thomas laughed as he came through the door and Gwen had a kiss for him too. Mr Cockle put the stick back in the fire and everyone sighed with relief.

‘Here’s a hearty welcome,’ said Thomas happily.

‘I’m so glad you’re both safe,’ beamed Gwen.

‘Arthur don’t you ever go off like that again and how dare you take him with you, Mr Triton, without telling me first.’ Thomas swept the hat from his head and bowed.

‘Apologies Ma’am. I have no excuse and beseech your forgiveness.’

Audrey giggled but whatever she was about to say was forgotten as the Starwife hobbled forward.

‘Triton!’ she called bad-temperedly. ‘Where’ve you been you lazy mariner? Report to me I said, but I didn’t mean some time next week!’ She made her way painfully up to the midshipmouse and stood imperiously in front of him.

Thomas sighed and loosened the kerchief round his neck. He studied the squirrel closely. It was obvious that she knew precisely what had happened. ‘I’d be wasting my breath,’ he said gruffly, ‘you know well enough.’

‘Don’t take that attitude with me Triton!’ the Starwife snapped. ‘I sensed what the Unbeest was doing but you were there! Tell me exactly what you saw.’

The midshipmouse glanced at Arthur and began. He walked over to the fire and related the terrible events of the previous night. The mice listened to him with fearful expressions, uttering sharp cries of dismay and covering their faces when he described Jupiter on the observatory.

Throughout his account the Starwife’s face was solemn and grave. When he had finished she turned briskly away and resumed her position by the stairs. There she sat in brooding silence and closed her eyes.

Thomas fidgeted with the hat in his paws and looked at her in consternation. What was she doing? This was not what he had expected from her at all. He went after the squirrel and waited. She did not move. He coughed – surely she hadn’t nodded off. An eyelid opened slightly, showing a watery slice of clouded eye, ‘What do you want of me Triton?’ she asked in a flat voice. ‘Can you not leave me in peace?’

‘No I can’t,’ he shouted in exasperation. ‘What are you sitting there like Neptune’s mother for, you silly old devil? Here’s that foul fiend taking the stars away an’ all you can do is mope about!’

‘What do you suggest I do?’ she asked in a deceptively calm tone. ‘What do you think I am able to do?’

Thomas shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered frankly, ‘but we must do summat. I don’t reckon this is the end of Jupiter’s tricks. There’ll be more, I’m certain of it.’

The Starwife stared at her gnarled paws. ‘But of course,’ she admitted, ‘he will not stop yet, not until he can be certain that spring will never come a again.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked the midshipmouse. ‘What else can he do? For pity’s sake you crafty old baggage, will you not tell us what’s going on? You’ve got a pretty fair idea haven’t you? Everything’s figured out in that crusty old brain box of yours but you’re not letting on,’ and he threw his hat down in his anger.

She turned her half-blind eyes full on him and he was prevented from saying anything more by the power that poured out of them. He had riled her and she proved that such an action was still dangerous. ‘So be it!’ she raged. ‘You shall know and you shall tremble as I have!’ The squirrel glared round at the astonished mice and harshly told them, ‘The Unbeest has destroyed the stars of the night, next he shall destroy the day star, soon the same magic will be used on the sun.’

All the mice in the Hall gasped and squeaked. Those who had sneaked down from the Landings scurried back up the stairs to tell everyone. The Starwife closed her eyes again and breathed deeply. Thomas fumbled for words but was too stricken to say anything. Could it be true? Could Jupiter really blot out the sun? His legs wobbled and he sat himself down sharply in case he collapsed. All eyes stared at the old squirrel.

Audrey knelt beside her and tried to talk. ‘There must be something we can do,’ she said. ‘He must have a weakness, there has to be a way.’ The Starwife did not reply so Audrey repeated herself. Still nothing. The squirrel was ignoring her. The mouse fumed and folded her arms crossly. ‘I’m glad you are the last of your kind,’ she blazed, ‘I think you’re horrible!’

The milky eyes blinked and a desolate tear welled up and spilled down the hollow cheek. ‘There is nothing we can do child,’ sobbed the Starwife hopelessly. ‘Jupiter has no weaknesses.’ The defeat in her voice was heart-breaking and Audrey immediately regretted her outburst and hugged the forlorn creature tightly.