The Siege of White Deer Park (6 page)

There was a deep silence. Weasel wondered if he was understood. Then Badger said, ‘Cat? A great cat? Well, I
wonder what we should do about it. What do you think, Mole?’

Weasel stared into the darkness in disbelief. Was Badger’s mind wandering? He seemed not to have grasped what the little animal had told him. And this time the young mole remained quiet. Perhaps he had decided it was futile to make a further denial. Or perhaps he was too stunned to speak.

‘You suggested, didn’t you, Badger, that the stranger seemed to have feline characteristics?’ Weasel prompted.

‘What? Oh, oh yes, Weasel,’ Badger murmured. ‘I did. I recall it. But I don’t think I can do anything for you, you know. I’m really getting very feeble now . . .’

‘No one expects you to do anything,’ Weasel assured him. ‘I merely brought you the news. It helps to know what we’re up against.’

Suddenly Badger’s mind seemed to have a moment of startling clarity. He said, much more briskly, ‘No doubt Tawny Owl has refuted the notion of a cat, straight away?’

Weasel was impressed. ‘Well, yes, he did, in a way. How did you guess?’

‘Oh, Weasel,’ Badger chuckled, ‘don’t you think I know our Owl after all this time?’

Badger’s shrewdness did not tally with his previous confusion. Weasel began to realize that the old creature had wanted to believe Mole had returned and was rejecting the truth. He had shut out the idea that Mole was gone and was going to use his youngster as a substitute.

‘Well, where’s the harm in it, if it gives him comfort?’ Weasel said to himself. He had an idea. He whispered to the young mole whose velvety fur his whiskers had located nearby, ‘Go along to the outer tunnel. I’ll join you there.’

When Weasel was sure they were alone he said to Badger, ‘I haven’t any more to tell you for the present. I’m sorry you’ve been lonely. We can’t expect you to go visiting so much now, so we must come to you. And I, for one, promise to do so.’

‘Thank you, Weasel. How very kind,’ said Badger joyfully. He seemed to be quite moved. ‘Do, please. I should enjoy it.’

They bade each other farewell and Weasel made haste to find the perplexed young animal who had, quite unintentionally, got himself into such a pickle.

‘Come to the set entrance,’ he said to him.

The youngster obliged.

Now Weasel was a last able to see him properly. When he had a good look he was astonished to note just how much the young mole resembled his father. ‘What do they call you?’ he asked him.

‘My father used to call me Mossy,’ was the answer. ‘I’m not quite sure why, unless it had something to do with the texture of my coat.’

‘Well, listen – er – Mossy,’ Weasel said. ‘From now on you can allow yourself to be called just plain Mole. It’s for the old badger’s sake, of course. He won’t know the difference, as you must already be well aware. It’ll mean such a lot to him, and what does it matter? Will you mind?’

‘Er – well, no, I suppose not. But won’t it be confusing?’

‘Not at all,’ Weasel answered. ‘I can soon explain the situation to the others. Thank you, my young friend. And, by the way, do drop in to Badger’s set now and then. I know you offered.’

‘I will. I meant what I said, Weasel. I feel sorry for him and he’s always been such a kindly creature.’

‘Good. Well, I’ll leave you. Oh, and remember, if he
starts to talk about ‘The Old Days’ – which you know nothing about – just agree with him. That’s all he expects, really.’

Mossy watched Weasel’s pencil-slim body make its retreat and sighed. ‘Ah well,’ he murmured, ‘I suppose it’s not much to ask.’

Tawny Owl had managed to disengage himself from the attentions of the other birds and was now trying to doze, away from interference, in a hollow tree. But since all of his friends knew this favourite place, the exasperated owl was disturbed again by Weasel.

‘I just dropped in to tell you I’ve seen Badger,’ Weasel explained.

Much irritated, Tawny Owl snapped, ‘Is that all you’ve woken me up for? How kind of you!’

‘No, no, there’s something you should know. I’m passing the message to everyone.’ He went on to describe the scene in Badger’s set involving Mole’s offspring.

‘Humph! So his mind’s addled,’ was Owl’s comment on Badger. ‘I might have known – the way he kept on about the strange animal being like a cat!’

Weasel refrained from pointing out that it looked as if Badger was correct in that. He contented himself with saying, ‘I don’t think his mind’s addled at all. He’s playing a sort of game with this young mole and I think we all ought to play along with him.’

‘Pooh!’ scoffed Tawny Owl. ‘I‘m past playing games. Badger ought to see sense. At his age too!’

‘That’s just it, Owl, “at his age”. He’s very old. I really don’t think we’ll have him around much longer. So why can’t we humour him? I’m sure Fox and Vixen won’t mind.’

‘Oh, I can’t be bothered with all that nonsense,’ said Tawny Owl. ‘Haven’t we got more important things to
think about?’ He ruffled his feathers, re-settled his wings and closed both his eyes in a very determined sort of way. Weasel knew that he was dismissed.

As he had expected, Fox and Vixen and, indeed, all of his other friends whom Weasel managed to find, were agreeable to keeping up the pretence for Badger’s sake. They were upset by the idea of Badger being in his dotage, and they tried to push to the backs of their minds the thought that it might not be long before they were without him.

Weasel’s message did not get to Adder or Toad that day. But Whistler found Toad in the early evening and quickly told him of his important news, as well as that of Badger.

‘And I have some news for
you
,’ Toad said, ‘while we’re on the subject of the Beast. One of the frogs told me and
he
had been told by another and that one by another and so on. You know how fast news can travel through the Reserve. The upshot is that, despite the Warden’s patrols, another deer has been killed.’

Adder could see nothing of his attacker. He was unable to turn to look behind, and the pressure was so great on his body that he thought his bones might break. There were no animals in the Park who ate snake and so Adder was in no doubt that he was trapped either by a human foot, or, more likely, by the very creature he had intended himself to surprise. There was a momentary easing of the pressure and Adder at once tried to turn. As soon as he moved, a huge paw swung round and patted at his head. Luckily for him the claws were retracted.

For the first time in his life Adder was really scared. He was scared in a way that he would not have been if the
beast who was attacking him had been one he understood – such as a fox or a hawk. Fear of the unknown coursed through his sluggish blood. He felt he had no hope of escape. Then, abruptly, the great weight bearing down on his back was removed.

For a moment Adder’s fear kept him frozen into immobility. He awaited the great blow that would crush the life out of him. But his paralysis lasted only a moment. Then he squirmed away painfully, in a desperate bid to reach the patch of vegetation. He was not permitted to. The paw descended again and knocked him back. The Beast was toying with him.

Adder kept moving – first this way, then that. Each time he was knocked back into place. Once a blow lifted him up into the air. He landed awkwardly. Pain racked his body but still he strove to get away. The Beast prodded him, tapped him and, finally, he felt its claws sear through his skin. He imagined he was going to be killed slowly in a form of torture, just as a cat will torment a bird or a mouse before the final kill. He wriggled in vain, like a creature in its death throes. Then a particularly heavy blow hooked him up high above the ground, over the vegetation, and suddenly Adder’s scaly coils landed with a plop in the shallow part of the stream.

Like all snakes he was a good swimmer and, before he quite knew where he was, he instinctively rippled away into the deeper water. Only his head protruded above the surface. He looked back towards the bank and saw his assailant for the first time quite clearly. The Beast was staring out at the stream in an attempt to discover where its plaything had gone. Adder kept himself well hidden. After a while the Beast got bored and slowly padded away.

For a long time the snake dared not approach dry land,
although the water felt as cold as ice. He had to keep moving to avoid sinking to the bottom, but he merely swam through a cluster of weeds and then back again, until he was convinced the Beast would not return.

He made his way to the bank and slowly, painfully, drew his battered body into a cluster of rushes and reed mace. Here he rested and nursed his wounds. He was scratched, bruised and some of his scales were torn, but his bones were sound and for that Adder was profoundly grateful. All his grandiose ideas of performing the heroic act of ridding White Deer Park of this menace, seemed now to him piffling and nonsensical. A paltry creature like him trying to meddle with this great hunter from an unknown world! Why, he was no more than a worm who afforded a minute or two’s distraction as a toy for such a powerful beast. Any animals who had made their homes in the Park had about as much chance of diverting it from its intentions as of learning how to walk on two legs. Adder would have chuckled at the absurdity of such a notion if he had been capable of it.

When he had recovered a little he moved carefully away from the stream, always keeping himself well screened, and slid with the utmost caution towards that quarter of the Reserve where his friends maintained their community. He had to make them understand about this Beast in no uncertain manner. But it was not until dusk that he approached close.

Toad was the first to hear of Adder’s horrible encounter. He was full of sympathy.

‘Oh Adder,’ he croaked, ‘my old friend! What a pounding you have had. Do come and rest yourself a little. There’s a clump of moss I frequent which is as soft as thistledown. I’m sure if you lie there a while –’

‘I’m much obliged, Toad,’ Adder interrupted, ‘and I’ll take you up on your offer later. But I really feel Fox, at
least, should know what we have to contend with.’

‘I think he’s aware of it already,’ Toad returned.

‘No. How could he be? He hasn’t seen the creature. I tell you, Toad, we’re all at its mercy. We’re minnows by comparison.’

‘Yes. Even the deer are suffering. Another one has been pulled down. I’ve just been telling Whistler. So despite the Warden’s efforts –’

‘Oh, the Warden!’ hissed Adder. ‘What can he do? Can he live amongst the deer herd? No. This hunter will take what it likes without hindrance. First it’s at the pond, then it’s by the stream or in a wood or choosing its prey in the open. It moves at will.’

‘Is it the same creature?’ Toad enquired.

‘The same? What do you mean?’

‘The same creature who caught you – did it make those footprints we saw?’

‘My dear Toad, identical marks are all along the bank of the stream. That was how I was caught. I went to look.’

‘It seems that Tawny Owl holds the view that there are two different beasts.’

Adder did not reply at once. Then he said in his driest lisp, ‘If there are two, then our days are truly numbered. But I don’t believe it. And now I must carry my warning.’

The snake’s body was aching all over but he moved on. Fox’s earth was empty. It was dark and, as usual, Fox and Vixen were on their evening quest for food. Their absence, however, at least gave Adder a chance of taking a proper rest. He awaited their return with patience.

As he lay, sleepily coiled up near the den entrance, another animal blundered into his path. There was an exclamation of surprise in a gruff, wheezy voice.

‘It’s only me, Badger,’ Adder said evenly.

‘Oh! So it is. I’m sorry. My sight was never very good and it seems to get worse. But I’m glad to see you. We don’t often –’

‘I’m glad to see
you
,’ Adder butted in, ‘because I’m bringing a warning.’ He described his alarming tussle in dramatic terms.

‘Goodness!’ said Badger. ‘You’re lucky to be in one piece. But are you all right? Are you in pain at all? I can’t see you very well . . .’

‘I shall survive,’ Adder replied grimly. ‘But I warn others – don’t meddle with this creature!’

‘Oh, I’m sure there is no question of it,’ Badger said at once. ‘That was Fox’s advice before this happened. I doubt if anyone is contemplating such a thing.’

Adder said drily, ‘It might surprise you to know that one was.’

‘You?’ cried Badger. ‘But why? I mean, what could you have done?’

‘That’s immaterial now,’ Adder drawled. ‘But if
I
had the idea, another might too. That’s why I’m here.’

Badger pondered this. He could not imagine any of the elders of the Farthing Wood community being so foolish. But he thought it would be tactless to say so, and, to change the subject, began to talk about the Warden and the recent deer killing.

Eventually Fox and Vixen appeared, and Adder told his story to them with his attendant warning.

‘This is timely advice,’ Fox said, ‘because I already have a sneaking suspicion that something might be afoot. Vixen and I have seen no other foxes around this night, although we covered quite a lot of ground. Usually we come across at least one or two of the youngsters out roaming. I wonder if they are up to something?’