The Crystal Prison Page 16

  The fieldmice cheered and began to dance in time to the music. Audrey looked around her and noticed Arthur and Twit. She rushed over to them. They were staring at the Green Mouse in wonder.

  ‘Oh me,’ sighed Twit heavily.

  ‘Heavens,’ muttered Arthur.

  They welcomed Audrey and then laughed, simply because they felt so light and giddy. Twit pranced around and took hold of Audrey’s paw and pulled her into the rest of the dancing mice. Shyly, Dimsel Bottom sidled up to Arthur and smiled up at him. Arthur coughed nervously but was soon dancing with her.

  Audrey glanced around at the assembled mice. There were Twit’s parents staring deeply into each other’s eyes as they whirled about sedately. Lily Clover was locked in the embrace of Todkin and even Samuel Gorse was there, completely recovered from his mauling by the owl. At the edge of the crowd Audrey could see Jenkin holding paws with Alison Sedge – then he kissed her!’

  Audrey was so surprised that she stopped dancing. ‘Well I never!’ she exclaimed.

  Twit followed her glance, ‘Aye, tonight they’re together. In the magic of Him all resentments are forgot.’

  And Audrey realised in a flood of understanding, that this was how it should be. Alison and Jenkin were meant to be together.

  Audrey and Twit left the dance and wandered round the pool. There they saw Isaac Nettle sitting alone with a scowl on his fate. He did not seem to see them – nor indeed any of the things going on around him. He merely sat and prayed sourly.

  The chatter and laughter hushed and an expectant silence fell on the fieldmice. The Green Mouse bowed his great green head and raised his paws.

  ‘Join us Lady!’ his voice boomed. ‘Grace our celebration with your holy presence.’

  Audrey looked up, holding her breath. The Green Mouse was beseeching the White Lady of the moon to come down.

  In the sky above, through the fluttering, glimmering hawthorn leaves, the silver moon shone out brightly. A slight wind sighed through the branches as a faint mist flowed down to the earth and threaded its way past the fieldmice. Those it touched gasped and felt refreshed. A rich perfume came with it and here and there tiny moonbeams twinkled and glowed in its depths.

  ‘Oh my,’ said Twit as the mist reached him and tears rolled down his little face. The White Lady floated round the gathering and the Green Mouse lowered his eyes.

  Audrey stared at the milky mist in disbelief. Now and then the wind moved it and she saw glimpses of something within. There was a fold of dress revealed for a moment, richly encrusted with pearls, and the toe of a silken slipper. The White Lady said nothing to the fieldmice but the mist shifted in what might have been a bow to the Green Mouse. He too bowed, then pointed to the water of the pool. The mist rose up and curled round in a wide arc then it poured down on to the pool’s surface and vanished. The Fennywolders saw only a reflection of the night sky and the creamy circle of the moon shimmering in it.

  ‘Drink,’ the Green Mouse instructed them. The fieldmice cautiously went to the water’s edge and cupped their paws together.

  ‘It’s like wine,’ shouted Young Whortle excitedly and all the mice gasped in wonderment as they drank the moon mead.

  Twit smacked his lips thoughtfully. ‘You know,’ he declared, ‘that beats old Tom’s rum paws down.’

  Only Audrey did not drink the magical water. She sat at the edge of the pool staring into its dark mirror and fancied she saw shapes swirling amongst the stars. Slowly the shapes turned to pictures: she saw a long dark tunnel with bright lights at the far end of it and there, running for all he was worth, was a familiar grey figure – it was Piccadilly. Audrey cried out in surprise. Piccadilly was being pursued by a horde of rats! Another image took over; it was all white, a landscape of frost and ice. Stretching far and wide the snowy wasteland moved beneath her as if she were a bird flying. Something dreadful was in the sky but she was unable to make out what it was. A glittering spear shot down at her and the white ground lurched below and sped up towards her. Audrey felt herself hurtling down, the ribbon was snatched out of her hair and she hit the ground with a tremendous crash.

  Another hot, beautiful day began. Audrey found herself curled up in her nest. For a moment she stared up at the woven ceiling blankly.

  She was unable to remember how she had got there. The previous night was all still so vivid in her mind that the bright sunlight confused her. The sprig of hawthorn was lying next to her – dry and brittle once more. Audrey picked it up and held it against the light trying to remember how the blossom had looked the night before. It was the uncomfortable heat that made Audrey finally lean out of her nest.

  ‘It’s hotter than yesterday,’ Arthur’s voice came up to her. Audrey waved lazily down at him. The Scuttles were having their breakfast. She dressed quickly and descended the ladder eager to discuss the marvels of the Eve.

  ‘Wasn’t it magnificent?’ she cried running to them.

  Elijah Scuttle gazed at her dumbly. ‘What were, missy?’

  ‘Last night, of course, Mr Scuttle! Wasn’t the Green Mouse wonderful?’

  Elijah and Gladwin exchanged puzzled glances.

  ‘The Green Mouse, dear?’ asked Mrs Scuttle.

  Audrey looked surprised then laughed. They were teasing her. ‘Yes,’ she persisted excitedly, ‘when the Lady came down and everyone drank the magic water.’

  There followed a painful, embarrassed silence broken only by Arthur coughing nervously. Twit began to giggle and tickled Audrey mischievously.

  ‘What you on about Aud?’ the little fieldmouse chuckled happily. ‘You been at old Tom’s rum?’

  Audrey stared at them. So they weren’t teasing her after all! They did not remember a thing about last night. She opened her mouth to argue but saw Arthur giving her a warning glare from behind his breakfast.

  Irritated and confused Audrey quickly drank her milk. The terrible heat did not help her growing bad temper, and she pressed her forehead with her fingers, saying thickly, ‘I’m sorry, it’s too hot for me here. I must go to the pool – I feel dreadful.’ She wanted to get away from them so she could be alone and think this through – last night seemed too real to be a dream so why did they know nothing about it? She got up to leave.

  ‘Poor dear,’ tutted Mrs Scuttle, ‘it does take some getting used to.’ Arthur crammed the last of his porridge into his mouth, mumbled to the others and ran after his sister.

  ‘Well I never did,’ remarked Elijah, highly amused.

  ‘That girl do take the biscuit for fanciful ideas. Hobnobbin’ with the Green Mouse an’ all. You’m got some quaint friends, Willum.’

  But Twit was staring after the Browns with concern.

  ‘Wait Sis,’ Arthur yelled, puffing behind Audrey.

  She stopped and turned to wait. When he reached her he took hold of her arm and stared hard. ‘Look, are you really feeling okay?’

  ‘Yes Arthur,’ she answered simply, ‘it’s just the heat. I can’t stand it.’

  He scratched his head and pressed his lips together. Finally he burst out, ‘What was all that rubbish back there then?’

  Audrey looked at her brother for some moments and shook her head. ‘You really don’t remember anything at all?’

  Arthur pulled his ‘don’t try that on me’ face and said crossly, ‘Don’t be daft, there’s nothing to remember. We went to bed early last night: that’s all that happened – not this Green Mouse stuff.’

  ‘But he was there, Arthur,’ she insisted passionately. ‘He was there – larger than life – and so were you and everyone in Fennywolde. I’m not going bonkers, believe me.’

  ‘Oh Sis,’ he sighed sadly, ‘how can I? If it’s what you want to believe then fine, but just do me a favour and don’t mention it to’ anyone else. You’ll end up embarrassing you, me and the Scuttles. So just keep a lid on your fairy stories eh?’

  Audrey was too angry to say any more. She spun round and strode away. How could they all have forgotten about it? A disturbing doubt cre
pt into her mind. What if she was going barmy after all? In this stifling weather maybe even that was possible.

  She made her way as fast as she could to the still pool. With her heart in her mouth she pushed through the hawthorn and entered the dappled shade.

  There was no sign or trace of anything which might reassure her and prove that the Green Mouse had been there. Audrey sat down heavily and stared at the water. She was glad that Alison Sedge was not here today.

  Arthur and Twit left breakfast to go on sentry duty. Arthur was excited as he would have to stay up all night on watch.

  Twit nodded to Grommel as they passed through the great doors. ‘How do,’ he said.

  ‘Mornin’ Twit,’ greeted Grommel as they went by. ‘Watch this,’ he called after them and proceeded to bend down and touch his toes. ‘It’s me back,’ he explained, seeing their puzzled faces. ‘That Madame Ratlady gave me an ointment to rub on and I feels brand new.’

  They congratulated him and continued on their way. ‘Can she get any more popular?’ asked Arthur. After a short while Twit ventured, ‘Arthur, what did Audrey mean before?’ Arthur shrugged. ‘I think Audrey had a dream, that’s all. Where are we going to start today?’

  But Twit would not let the matter drop. ‘I dunno ’bout dreams, ain’t too impossible her seein’ the Green Mouse. She done so afore you know.’

  ‘So she says, but if you expect me to believe all that claptrap . . . why she’s always making things up!’

  Again Twit persisted. ‘And our Oswald – when I was sittin’ with him, he said summat ’bout seein’ the Green Mouse in Jupiter’s chamber.’

  ‘Oh pooh!’ scorned Arthur. ‘Oswald wasn’t well, he was saying all sorts of daft things. I’m not interested in Audrey’s silly stories and I’m surprised at you – don’t go encouraging her, for heaven’s sake. Look, there’s Jenkin. Let’s go join him.’

  The matter seemed to be closed. Twit chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully then ran after his friend. The watch began.

  Madame Akkikuyu waded through the deep leaf piles near the oaks. Her bag was stuffed full with fresh herbs and wild flowers, the ingredients for a special potion. Nicodemus had instructed her to collect them the night before but there were some things which Madame Akkikuyu had trembled at the thought of getting. Nicodemus had been very persuasive.

  ‘Listen Akkikuyu and remember well,’ he had told her. ‘I shall tell you how to free me from the black limbo where I am imprisoned. There must be a great spell to unfetter me and bring me back. Look how the land needs me. It is dying, Akkikuyu! When I am released I shall cause the rain to fall and restore the water to the thirsty land and heal its burns.’

  Madame Akkikuyu had thought that was a very admirable thing, so she had asked him, ‘Tell Akkikuyu what she must do to release you.’

  ‘There must be a potion,’ Nicodemus had begun quickly, ‘and it must be the distillation of many things – but are you ready for this Akkikuyu?’

  ‘Yes Nico,’ she had stated firmly.

  ‘There will be herbs and flowers which only bloom on moonless nights,’ the voice on her ear had continued, ‘and other things which are necessary but you may find difficult to gather.’

  ‘Akkikuyu get anything,’ she had claimed hastily.

  ‘Good,’ Nicodemus had declared, ‘then fetch me a frog and boil away the flesh till only the white bones are left.’

  ‘No,’ the fortune-teller had cried, appalled. Akkikuyu no kill poor froggy – she good and kind.’

  ‘Believe me, Akkikuyu,’ the voice had wheedled, ‘it is only because this is so urgent that I would ask this terrible thing of you. If this is not done then no rain will fall and all the frogs are sure to perish better one die than all.’

  Madame Akkikuyu had been forced to agree with his reasoning and Nicodemus had told her to find him a frog the very next day. She looked down at her bulging bag and grimaced; there was no frog in there yet – she still demurred at murder, and had collected all the plants instead. She wondered if Nicodemus would scold her when night fell. Everything seemed muddled when he was not there to reassure and guide her and everything seemed so less important in the daylight.

  She trudged up the dell and wandered about the roots of the oaks, wiping her face with her shawl.

  ‘Too hot,’ she moaned to herself. She squinted at the tattoo on her ear but it was still. ‘Hah, old Nico he not like the heat. He not see me in daytime.’

  She surveyed the leafy world around her and spotted some strange chalky-looking objects scattered about the base of one of the oaks. She went over to examine them.

  ‘Hmm,’ she mumbled, prodding one with her claw. It was grey and dry and broke open at her touch. ‘Hooty cough-ups,’ she remarked with disdain.

  They were owl pellets, tight little bundles of bone and fur that had been swallowed greedily by the owl as he devoured his prey, only to be regurgitated later when he had been unable to digest them.

  ‘So owly still here,’ muttered the fortune-teller. She looked up at the trunk of the tree and saw the dark hole in its trunk. ‘Just you stay away from my mouseys,’ she threatened, shaking her fists, ‘or Akkikuyu come pluck you again.’

  She thought she heard a frightened hoot in response and was satisfied. It was time to find a shady place to sleep. Her nightly lessons with Nicodemus were leaving her with no energy for the rest of the following day. Madame Akkikuyu yawned widely and lumbered off to rest.

  11. Magic and Murder

  As the afternoon wore on, the fieldmice gathered in the Hall of Corn to discuss the unusually hot weather.

  Tain’t natural,’ remarked Old Todmore, squinting at the sky. ‘No rain fer weeks now. Mark my words, young uns, there’s summat very wrong ’bout all this.’

  The ground had become like stone and here and there long cracks had begun to appear. The corn in the field looked dry and some of the stalks were withered and sickly – an omen that did not go unnoticed by the anxious mice.

  Waves of disquiet now coursed through Fennywolde, building on the unease left by Hodge’s death. The tired and anxious Fennywolders took to looking nervously over their shoulders at the slightest noise.

  Isaac Nettle, accustomed to the great heat of his forge, peered out over the field and declared to those willing to listen, ‘The fires of the infernal are at work here. Repent ye and crave pardon from the Almighty Green.’ And Mr Woodruffe was too tired and overheated to stop him.

  Some mice swooned in the swelter and all throats were burned by the hot breeze. Many spent the day by the still pool, leaving a large space between themselves and the strange town mouse who had brought the odd weather with her.

  Eventually, the day burnt itself out and the early stars pricked the evening sky. The fieldmice clambered into their nests, relieved that the long, uncomfortable day was over and worried about the next. They cast themselves on their beds and fell into exhausted faints rather than sleep:

  From some of the little round nests plaintive voices were raised in prayers for rain. ‘Please oh Green, deliver us from the sun. Bring down the rain.’

  Madame Akkikuyu passed through the field with a satisfied grin on her face. She had been nosing around the top end of the ditch where the mud was still spongy, and after much searching had found a dead frog.

  It was a bit old and whiffy but Madame Akkikuyu felt very pleased with herself. She had managed to keep her promise to Nicodemus without killing anything. How clever she felt! He would be very pleased with her – no need to mention how it was acquired. She hurried along, eager to put the grisly object into her pot so that the skin could be boiled away ready for the night’s instruction.

  As she was walking through the Hall of Corn a voice called down to her from one of the nests. Hastily the fortune-teller thrust the frog into her bag and glanced upwards..

  Young Whortle’s father came scurrying down and stood beside her.

  ‘Forgive me dear lady,’ said Mr Nep apologetically, ‘but I have a . . . well . .
. er . . . something to say to you.’

  Madame Akkikuyu narrowed her gleaming black eyes and closed her claws tightly over her bag. ‘Akkikuyu listen,’ she said at last.

  Mr Nep first looked down at his feet, then twiddled his thumbs and wiped his face in embarrassment. Finally he blurted out, ‘Can you make it rain?’ It was not what Madame Akkikuyu had expected and she was dumbstruck for a few moments. But Mr Nep babbled on: ‘Oh . . . we’re so desperate! You’ve shown yerself to be wise in the craft of healing, so some of us set to thinkin’ that mebbe you had other . . . skills. There, I’ve said it.’ The rat considered him for a while and said, ‘You want rain magic? Akkikuyu no witch or cloud-dancer – she healer.’

  Mr Nep looked aghast. ‘Oh, I have offended you. Please, no such insult was meant. It’s just that even the pool is getting low in water now and well – we’re getting very worried.’

  Madame Akkikuyu smiled. She liked it when the fieldmice came to her for assistance. A warm tingle shot up her tail and she puffed out her chest. She rubbed her tattooed ear thoughtfully and told Mr Nep, ‘Akkikuyu try – no promise.’

  ‘Oh thank you,’ he said, his face relaxing, ‘I’ll tell my Nellie, she’ll be so relieved. We don’t know what we’d do if it weren’t fer you.’ Mr Nep scampered back to his nest.

  ‘A difficult promise to keep,’ came a soft whisper.

  The rat jumped in surprise.

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’ her tattoo continued.

  ‘You . . . you heard, Nico?’ ventured the fortune-teller nervously.

  The voice of Nicodemus mocked her. ‘Oh yes, I heard. You want to help these little creatures by bringing rain to them.’ The voice suddenly changed and became full of anger. ‘How dare you give such promises! Who are you to offer them the power of nature? The power of life-giving rain is not yours to give, it is the province of we land spirits.’

  ‘Akkikuyu only want to help poor mouseys,’ she whined.