Urchin and the Heartstone (2 page)

“That must be Juniper,” said Needle. At the water’s edge stood a squirrel who looked a little younger than Urchin, thinner and darker than most squirrels. One hind paw was small and curled. Not long before, Captain Husk had tried to have all weak or injured young animals put to death, and many of them had been brought up in hiding.

Juniper must have heard his own name, because he turned so that Urchin could see a pointy face. Juniper had been watching them shyly, as if waiting to see whether they would be friends or not and hoping they would, and Urchin knew what that was like. He himself had always been “that very pale squirrel,” the orphan squirrel, the odd one out. He scampered down the sand, followed by Needle, and Juniper twitched a nervous smile. His eyes were dark and bright as berries.

“Are you Juniper?” asked Urchin. “I’m Urchin.”

“A Companion to the King!” said Juniper with admiration.

Urchin tried to make the sort of easy, laughing reply that Captain Padra would have come up with, but unfortunately he couldn’t think of one. “Um…suppose so,” he said, and nodded at Needle. “Needle’s a Companion to the King, too. Where are you from?”

Juniper turned and pointed toward the forest stretching out to the west and rising into the hills. “Do you see, sir, between the trees, just beyond the dark row of firs?” he said, and his voice was soft with shyness. “Past there, sir, there’s a waterfall.”

“I’m not a sir,” said Urchin. “You lived at the top of the waterfall?”

“No, s—no,” said Juniper. “Behind it, in the caves halfway down. Damson the squirrel found me when I was a baby, and looked after me. I never went anywhere else much because she had to keep me hidden, but now I’d like to live in the wood.” His ears twitched. “So long as I can still see Damson, that is. She brought me up, and she’s old now. She shouldn’t be alone.” He looked down shyly at his paws, then up at the tower. “Who are all those hedgehogs?”

Urchin and Needle turned to look. A group of tall male hedgehogs stood in a huddle on the rocks.

“They’re some of the Hedgehog Host,” said Needle. “It was one of Husk’s ideas. When Husk was in power, the strongest of the male hedgehogs were sent away to do mining and quarrying right over on the North Corner, in the Rough Rocks. Even married hedgehogs with families, like Docken—he’s Thripple’s husband, Hope’s daddy—they all had to go. They’ve been set free now, but they still sort of stay together and call themselves the Hedgehog Host. Some of them might be promoted to the Circle, like Docken and…um…that tall one that all the hedgehog maids fancy. Gorsen. Gorsen the Gorgeous, or at least he thinks he is. Gorsen and Docken work at the tower.”

“That must be good,” said Juniper with a wistful look that Urchin understood. Juniper was a bit like himself a year ago, when he had longed to be a tower squirrel, but hadn’t liked to say so. A very wet otter was loping up the shore toward them, smiling brightly. When he reached them he screwed up his face and shook himself dry with a flurry of spray.

“Fingal!” said Needle. “You did that on purpose!”

“Just the thing for a hot day,” said Fingal, who was Padra’s younger brother and had the same pleasant look about him.

“Have you seen any sign of a ship, Fingal?” asked Urchin. There was still no sign of it, perhaps it was steering around the island, trying to find a way through the mists.

“No,” said Fingal, and glanced over his shoulder. “Still no. Should I? Oh, hello, Juniper. Don’t often see you here.”

So you two know each other?” said Needle.

“The otters sort of brought me up, too,” explained Juniper.

“Don’t know about bringing him up, but you know how it is,” said Fingal. “Where there’s water, there’s always an otter or two. Nobody has a clue who Juniper’s parents are. Damson found him all by himself and kept him secret in the days when they killed anything with half a whisker out of place; so we all taught him the really useful things, like swimming and sliding down waterfalls.”

“I don’t know who my parents are, either,” said Urchin to Juniper. “Apple the squirrel looked after me.”

“Oh, I know about
you
,” said Juniper with admiration. “Only, living where I did, I didn’t get to hear about everything that happened on the island. I’ve heard bits of the story, about Captain Husk and everything, but—”

“Oh, it’s simple,” interrupted Fingal. “King Brushen was the king, but it was Husk who really made all the rules. Husk was so clever, nobody realized just how bad he was, him and his Lady Aspen. Husk had Crispin sent into exile. My brother Padra took Urchin as his page and taught him to do all those pagey things, and Urchin went off to find Crispin, and now Crispin’s the king. He hasn’t been crowned yet, but he’s still the king. That’s all. Anyone want to skim stones?”

Urchin understood more and more why Captain Padra had kept his talkative, carefree young brother out of the way while Husk was in power. Fingal chose two round, flat pebbles and loped down to the shore with them. Needle edged closer to Urchin, who turned to face her so he wouldn’t be prickled.

“No ship,” she said. “If there was one, I expect it had to turn back. They usually do. Do you think Juniper can manage to skim stones? I mean, with his bad hind paw. His balance must be affected.”

“I won’t show him up,” Urchin whispered back. Fingal flicked a pebble across the water and watched it skip twice before it sank. Needle’s throw wasn’t good, and as Juniper seemed to be holding back, Urchin went next. He couldn’t quite bring himself to make a hopeless throw, but it wasn’t a good one either. The stone bounced once, and sank.

“Your turn, Juniper,” he said.

The pebble flew from Juniper’s paw. Once, twice, three, four, five times it skimmed over the water. Urchin gave a gasp of admiration.

“Well done!” called Needle and Urchin. Juniper turned and smiled shyly, as if he thought he should apologize.

“The otters taught me that,” he said.

“Can you teach me?” asked Urchin. For a moment he was afraid he’d said the wrong thing—it was as if he were asking to know Juniper’s secret—but he soon realized it was exactly the right thing. He had put Juniper in charge.

“It’s—it’s all in the wrist,” said Juniper, clearly astonished to find himself teaching anything to Urchin. “You do it like this.”

They went on skimming stones, as Urchin improved his aim and Juniper grew more confident. By the time they were running out of suitable stones, Urchin felt as if he’d known Juniper for years. They were friends, and he knew they always would be. It was as simple as that.

“There’s a whole heap of stones by the jetty,” said Fingal. “The ships use them for ballast, but you can always find a few for skimming.”

“What’s ballast?” asked Juniper.

“Rubbishy stuff for putting in ships to make the right weight,” said Fingal. “But nobody minds if we skim them.” He turned to look for a flat stone, then suddenly straightened up and seemed to be watching something. “Look! Look, can you see that?”

All of them looked out to sea as Fingal pointed. Slowly, still misted and unclear, a ship was emerging. They watched her, minute by minute, the mists still hanging thinly about her like smoke. The stones were left untouched. Urchin called to two young mole sisters nearby, Jig and Fig, and sent them to tell Padra and the king.

He had expected billowing sails and flags, maybe, hung from the masts, coming to celebrate Crispin’s coronation. But the ship that now appeared looked as if the previous night’s storm had battered her into defeat. The mast tip hung crooked, the sails were in tatters, and she limped to the island like a dying animal.

CHAPTER TWO

HE
G
ATHERING
C
HAMBER OF
M
INSMANTLE
Tower had been cleared at last, and only a few animals remained. It looked more enormous than ever, with every window thrown open against the summer heat. Three squirrels—Longpaw, the messenger, and Russet and Heath, who were both members of the group of senior animals called the Circle—waited at the door in case they were needed.

In front of the great curving windows was the dais, with a single throne at the center, and before it, on a cushion of deep green satin, lay a circlet of gold. This was no plain captain’s circlet. It was beautifully wreathed with golden oak and beech leaves and acorns, and gleamed like fire when the sunlight caught it. But Crispin the king was not seated on the throne, and not even touching the crown. He was perched on the edge of the dais with the squirrel priest, Brother Fir, beside him. In the middle of the hall, Padra and Arran stood very still while hedgehogs draped their ceremonial robes of turquoise and silver around their shoulders, whispered to each other, tugged the robes into place, and occasionally put in a pin. Thripple, a senior tower seamstress hedgehog with a hunched back and a crooked look about her, knelt on the floor by Padra, spreading the hem of his robe and shuffling back to inspect the look of it.

“It’s just on the floor, Captain Padra, but not trailing,” she said.

“That’s how I want it, thank you, Thripple,” said Padra. “Crispin, I know how you feel about wearing the crown, but you should try it on for size.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” said Crispin. “It’s something I feel strongly about. I don’t even want to be called the king, and all this Your Majesty business. Yes, I know we’ve been over all this before, and that they have to call me something other than Captain or whatshiswhiskers.”

“They need to know they have a real king,” insisted Padra. “They need the feeling of having a leader. And it helps the Companions to the King if they know who they’re companions to, Your Whatshiswhiskers.”

“Yes, I know,” said Crispin. “But I won’t wear the crown until Fir puts it on my head at the coronation. It’s a solemn moment, and it won’t be if I’ve already worn it.”

“It won’t be if it falls over your eyes,” said Padra.

“It’s been measured,” said Crispin. “I don’t even want to touch it until I’m crowned. It wouldn’t be right. It would be like holding the Heartstone.”

“The Heartstone is completely different,” said Padra. “Ouch!”

“Sorry, Captain Padra,” said Thripple, and sat back on her heels to inspect the robe. “Now, sir, are you absolutely sure you don’t want it longer?”

“If it’s any longer it’ll get sat on by a mole,” said Padra. “And when you see your husband, tell him the gallery’s finished and there’s room for all the Hedgehog Host in there.”

“Oh, Docken and me and all of us are most grateful for it, Captain,” she said, and twisted awkwardly to follow his gaze up to the newly finished gallery. “There’s such an awful lot of them, sir, to fit in.”

“And you can’t pack hedgehogs in closely,” observed Arran. “Not without serious consequences. But Gorsen and Lumberen had a look at it themselves, and they were pleased with it.”

Thripple had opened her mouth to say that Gorsen was a most particular hedgehog, and if the gallery was good enough for him, it was good enough for everyone. But she said nothing, because at that point Gorsen the hedgehog himself marched into the Gathering Chamber, bowed smartly to Crispin, and saluted.

“There’s a deputation of young 'uns to see Your Majesty and Captain Padra,” he announced. Gorsen was a tall hedgehog with a bronze tip to his spines, large black eyes, and a purposeful stride, and his striking good looks had won the attention of most of the single female hedgehogs on the island.

“I told them Your Majesty’s busy,” Gorsen went on, “but they’re all mightily excited about something and they say it’s important, and Urchin sent them. Your young Hope’s among them, Mistress Thripple.”

“Tell them all to come in, please, Gorsen,” said Crispin as Thripple’s eyes brightened. “And send a squirrel down to the kitchen for some strawberries.”

They heard stifled giggling before Jig and Fig, the mole sisters, appeared with Hope the hedgehog between them. There was a cry of “Ooh, Mummy!” from Hope, who scurried as fast as he could to Thripple before he remembered where he was and turned to bow to the king.

“Please, Your Majesty—” he began.

“That’s Brother Fir,” said Thripple gently. Hope was very shortsighted.

“Please, Your Majesty,” repeated Hope as Padra picked him up and pointed him in the right direction, “King Crispin, sir, Captain Padra, sir, there’s a ship arriving and Master Urchin said you should know, urgent says it’s Urchin, no, Urchin says it’s urgent, Your Majesty, Captain Padra, sir, sir.”