The Siege of White Deer Park (14 page)

Now Tawny Owl recalled his message and tried to hoot through the middle of a mouthful, nearly choking himself in the process. He swallowed elaborately.

‘Yes, yes,’ he spluttered. ‘Most urgent. Glad you came, Squirrel. I’ve
spoken
to the Cat. It made a kind of bargain.’

Squirrel was showing his amazement by flicking his tail harder than ever. He sat on his hind legs one moment and then ran up a branch and back again the next moment, unable to keep still. ‘The Beast
spoke?
’ he chattered.

‘More of a roar, really. A horrible sound,’ Tawny Owl told him. ‘But come with me, Squirrel. I must tell Fox and the rest.’ He flew noiselessly away and Squirrel followed him, racing and leaping through the tree-tops.

It was some time before Tawny Owl managed to bring together Fox, Vixen, Weasel and Badger. He recounted his story with the exaggerations and embellishments that, by now, were expected of him. But his message was clear.

‘We have a real chance this time,’ he asserted. ‘The whole Park was on watch before. But we must try harder this time. Our lives depend on it.’

‘I’ll talk to the Great Stag,’ said Fox at once. ‘The herd must be involved this time. They have to be especially wakeful. If the Beast wants a sort of contest of skills we’ll give it one. Our eyes against his stealth.’

‘That’s what it will mean,’ Tawny Owl averred.

‘You did well to follow him,’ Weasel congratulated the bird unexpectedly. ‘Toad got close, but you alone have conversed with the Cat.’

Tawny Owl swelled visibly with pride. However there was no time for self-congratulation.

‘We have a cause again,’ Vixen remarked. ‘Our future safety depends on us now – not just on our little band, but on every other one of the Park’s inhabitants too. Even the smallest newt or fledgling has a stake in this, if it only needs one sighting for our home to return to its natural state.’

‘Proof of a sighting,’ Tawny Owl corrected her. ‘And I’m afraid, as far as I understand, newts are dumb.’

‘All right, Owl, I extended the list too far. But you told us – any creature, big or small, would serve the same purpose.’

‘As far as I’m concerned,’ said Fox, ‘if I thought I could bring about our salvation I’d stay awake day and night till I found the brute.’

‘And I too,’ Badger wheezed. ‘It would be one last useful achievement before I –’

‘Now, Badger,’ Weasel cut in. ‘Don’t start talking in that vein again. There’s no question of it being a last anything, we hope. Think of Mo – er – Mole.’

‘Oh yes. Poor Mole. How empty my tunnels would seem for him if I weren’t around.’

‘Well, then,’ said Fox, ‘shall we begin? We have to pass the word again. If we thought we searched and watched hard before, now we have a real test before us. I shall go straight to the deer herd.’ He left and the group hurriedly broke up.

On his way across the Reserve towards the open area where the bulk of the white deer herd was usually found,
Fox fell in with Friendly. The younger animal confessed to his father that he had feelings of guilt about Husky’s death.

‘You weren’t entirely to blame,’ Fox told him. ‘It was a rash adventure, but the reasons for which it was undertaken are commendable.’

‘I feel I led him on – and the other youngsters,’ Friendly went on. ‘I shouldn’t have pressed them into it.’

‘I think none of us have really understood what we are up against,’ Fox remarked generously. ‘Now I think we’re closer to it, after what we all saw by the stream. What were my empty words worth, about protecting and avenging our own? Dreams, Friendly, no more. We’re out of our depth. I’ve felt myself to be weak and helpless as never before.’

Friendly looked at his father – the greying coat, the stiffer gait, the duller eye. Age was the great enemy, he thought. But Fox knew what was in his mind and denied it.

‘Were I your age again,’ he said, ‘it would make no difference. I’d have no challenge to make to monsters.’

‘Let’s be thankful, then,’ said Friendly, ‘that we have some skills.’

‘Yes,’ conceded his father. ‘At least we have our eyes.’

They went on together, feeling that they had helped to raise each other’s spirits.

The Great White Stag saw them approaching, shoulder to shoulder, through the swift-growing grasses. He had the news of the killings ready for them.

‘I am indeed sorry,’ Fox responded afterwards. ‘You have lost quite a few of this season’s young?’

‘Too many,’ the Stag boomed in his deep voice. ‘Fox, we appeal to you. You have been our friend since you
came to our home. We deer have lived here, mostly at peace, for generations. But we cannot sustain these losses indefinitely. How do we fight back?’

‘By the summer your antlers will have grown again,’ Fox said. ‘They are potent weapons. But it may not be necessary to wait for that. There is another weapon we all possess, Man and ourselves. Vision. And the hunter himself has told us how we can use it.’ He went on to explain the Beast’s pledge. ‘Watchfulness,’ he finished, ‘from dawn to dusk and through the night. That’s the only hope for any of us.’

‘We have watched,’ replied the leader of the herd. ‘And when we were enclosed, the men watched for us. But still it was of no use.’

‘We
must
have a chance,’ Fox declared, ‘and we must believe that we have it. The Cat is not invisible. We have to remember that.’

‘We shall try,’ the Stag said unhappily. ‘What else can we do?’ He began to walk away in his sedate manner. Then he turned back. ‘Last time it killed my favourite hind,’ he bemoaned. ‘She had borne many young.’ He looked away and murmured, ‘It has such contempt for us all.’

His words were uncannily accurate. Even as they spoke, the Cat returned to drag away the hind’s carcass. It meant to ensure that its larder was well stocked.

So word travelled round the Park again. Tawny Owl and Whistler spread it amongst the birds who were the best carriers of messages, and the beasts played their part too. Soon all were aware that they now had a real hope of banishing the threat from their lives by their own efforts.

Meanwhile the Warden was taking stock too. The morning after the kill he went to take count of the deer
herd as he did every morning. He was paricularly concerned about the survival of the young, and he quickly noticed another was missing. He knew the hinds too; each one that had given birth that season. So he realized the mother had been taken as well.

The next day Vixen’s words were borne out. A party of men began a systematic search of White Deer Park. Some were on horseback, some on foot. Many were armed. Others had brought apparatus for capturing the Beast. The search lasted throughout the day. The whole of the Reserve was combed. No trace of the hunter was found.

The other animals in the Park kept themselves out of sight, too, whilst the men roamed around. The more intelligent ones guessed what was going on, and hoped fervently that the Cat would be discovered and removed by human hand. But they heard no report of guns and the birds noted that the men went away empty-handed. Tawny Owl recalled the Cat’s words and was not surprised. However, the men had not finished. They were about to use new tactics.

The day after the search they returned. Under the leadership of the Warden traps were laid at various points throughout the Reserve and baited with fresh raw meat. The Warden had taken the utmost care to ensure that these traps could only be sprung by a large and very powerful animal – the huge chunks of meat were set in such a way that no fox or smaller carnivore would have the strength to dislodge them. The men retired again and then the waiting began. The Warden reckoned that the hunter probably had sufficient food for itself for quite some time.

The days went by. The Cat went nowhere near any of the traps. Each day the Warden went to inspect them, sometimes by himself, and sometimes with a helper. The
meat was renewed at intervals. At night many of the smaller animals had investigated these unusual food sources. The foxes had been suspicious and only sniffed at them. Some of the smaller meat-eaters had tried to pull the lumps away, failed, and then contended themselves with nibbling at them where they were.

After some time both the Warden and his charges began to think that the Beast had decided it had nothing to gain by staying around that part of the world any longer. For not only had the traps been avoided, but no further deer had been taken. Indeed no smaller prey had been attacked either.

‘I’m beginning to wonder about this “pledge” of the Cat’s,’ Weasel commented one day to Fox. ‘How do we know it isn’t a final trick on us – you know, to put us all on our guard for nothing, while he himself is as far away as – as –’

‘Farthing Wood?’ suggested Fox wryly.

‘Precisely!’

‘Yes, I’ve thought of that too,’ Fox admitted. ‘But don’t tell Owl. He’ll think you’re doubting his word.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Weasel. ‘But what would that matter by comparison with the benefit to us all? To be sure that White Deer Park is ours again!’

‘“To be sure”,’ Fox echoed. ‘That’s the crux of it, Weasel. How can we ever be sure again?’

Weasel looked crestfallen. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ he muttered. ‘I suppose it would be preferable for one of us to see the great hunter again.’

But nobody did. And, understandably, the animals’ wariness began to slacken and their watchfulness to be relaxed. They no longer believed they were watching for any purpose. As for the Warden, he did not bother to replace the bait in his traps any more. Replenishing the meat was costly and it was all to no avail. Besides which,
he had still a lingering doubt about the risks involved – perhaps one of the traps might catch an animal that actually had a perfect right to be in the Reserve. After a few more days and much cogitation, the Warden at last decided to remove the traps altogether. So the guard was down of animal and human alike. And that was exactly what the Cat had been waiting for.

It had eaten well at the beginning. The fawn and its mother provided plenty of meat. Eventually every scrap of the carcasses was gone, leaving only skeletons. The Cat even crunched some of the bones. It had managed to lap at the dew and take rainwater from the plentiful showers, so that thirst had been no problem for it. As time passed, hunger returned, but it knew it would not have long to wait, and it was content. It had found itself an underground home which served its need for secrecy and stealth perfectly. It waited with patience for its great cunning to work its effect.

Then one dusk the Beast knew that the time was right. It waited for the true darkness that came late at that period of the year. Then it crept forth from its den and embarked on a small orgy of slaughter, prompted by its long fast. It killed rabbits and hares and any small creatures it could find on the ground. Voles and frogs were snapped up at a gulp. Then it climbed into the trees and caught birds on their nests and squirrels in their dreys. Those creatures that were not eaten at once were carried back to the den for future use. But it did not approach the deer herd. It was too clever for that.

Leveret missed being taken by a whisker. The instinctive leap that took him to safety exposed his mate and she was taken instead. Leveret ran at full tilt through the grass. His electrifying pace could outdistance almost any creature. He did not stop to see if he was pursued. So
he did not see the Cat. He kept right on running until he ran into Badger, nearly bowling him over.

‘Leveret!’ Badger gasped, badly winded. ‘What’s the alarm?’

The hare explained at once about the attack. Neither of them could be sure whether it was the Cat at work again, but they both jumped to conclusions.

‘And we thought it had gone,’ Badger murmured. ‘It’s been playing with us.’

‘Well, it’s not playing now,’ Leveret said harshly.

Their suspicions were justified. Knowledge soon spread of the killings. There seemed to be a new savagery about these, as if the Cat had a lust to kill for the sake of it, to demonstrate its mastery over the rest of them.

No animal, no bird had seen it. But all of the Park soon knew the stranger was still around. There was only one clue that impressed itself on the more intelligent of the population. The slaughter had been confined to one corner of the Reserve. And that was the corner where the animals from Farthing Wood had established their homes.

‘Can it be deliberate?’ they asked each other.

‘Is it hiding nearby?’

Squirrel was terrified and planned to move his home. Leveret discovered the loss of his mate and no longer cared if the hunter should return. Fox and Vixen racked their brains as to the whereabouts of the Beast. After such killings, how could it just vanish again? Tawny Owl perched in his tree and hoped no one would come near him. He had the awful feeling that in some way he was to blame for this: that the Cat meant to prove something to him. He was to be punished for his previous presumption, not personally perhaps, but through the deaths of his friends.

The animal friends waited for the next strike with a fear that had become all-consuming. They scarcely dared to go about their necessary activities. The collection of food was now a hurried, furtive business – something to be done as quickly as possible before scurrying back to cower at home. Only the birds, Adder and Toad felt comparatively secure. Adder had not been seen for a while, but the others worried daily about the safety of their companions. Tawny Owl, in particular, was in a state of unending misery. He could not bring himself to talk to anyone. He had started to think that, if he did, that animal would be the next one singled out for the Cat’s attention.