The Deptford Mice 3: The Final Reckoning Read online

  ‘You cannot do that!’ snapped Master Oldnose outraged. ‘What are we to do then?’

  ‘We’ll freeze like her!’ exclaimed Mr Cockle.

  Gwen pressed her paw into Thomas’s. ‘He’s right,’ she said, ‘we need the wood more than the Starwife will dear.’

  But he would not be dissuaded. ‘A pyre promised I her and that’s what she’ll get,’ he bellowed. ‘You don’t realize how important she was: this was the Handmaiden of Orion – the Keeper of the Starglass, the Green’s regent on Earth. Damn your eyes, she was the closest thing to divinity you’re ever likely to see!’

  ‘But she’s dead now,’ put in Arthur, not seeing why their warmth should be sacrificed for a dead squirrel, whoever she was.

  Audrey’s head swam. That curious feeling was coming over her again, as she stared at the quarrelsome crowd she seemed to drift away from them and something stirred in her mind. ‘Mr Triton’s right!’ she shouted suddenly. ‘We have to do this, otherwise what have we become? Are we rats to leave the dead scattered around? If it were you, would you like your body to be disregarded, left for the crows to peck at? Listen to yourselves for the Green’s sake!’

  Her outburst shamed most of them and frightened the rest. Gwen stared in wonder at her daughter, she had never spoken so passionately before. ‘I’m sorry Thomas,’ Mrs Brown found herself saying, ‘I was wrong, of course we must honour the Starwife.’

  The midshipmouse winked at her and squeezed her paw. ‘That’s my Gwennie,’ he said.

  The other mice agreed and went to bring out the last reserves of wood. The hour rolled by and at the end of it a tall fire had been built. The twigs and branches covered the figure of the squirrel in a cone-shaped frame, tied together with string at the top and any gaps were filled with bits of dry paper. Thomas inspected the work and nodded; it was ready to be lit.

  As the pyre was being constructed he had racked his brains to try and remember the exact words the Starwife had used in the ceremony. The mice joined paws and formed a ring while they waited for him to begin.

  ‘Under the stars we are as one,’ he said, bowing in reverence, ‘theirs is the power of countless years. They see our grief and know our pain, yet still they shine.’ Everyone felt the irony of the speech and shook their heads as Thomas finished by saying, ‘And their light gives us hope.’

  He fumbled for the rest of the words, swearing at his forgetfulness. It was something to do with trees and wheels wasn’t it?

  ‘From acorn to oak . . .’ began a voice unexpectedly. Thomas turned and saw it was Audrey. She came forward bearing the velvet bag, ‘ . . . but even the mightiest of oaks shall fall,’ she intoned. ‘Thus do we recognize the great wheel of life and death and life once more. We surrender our departed soul under the stars and may the Green gather her to him.’ She lifted her face to the blank, white sky and raised her paws. ‘Light the pyre,’ she told Thomas.

  He took the tinder box obediently from the turn up of his hat and used it to kindle the paper lodged between the sticks. A pale, wavering flame trembled in the wind but it caught the wood and cracked hungrily.

  Soon the whole thing was ablaze. The fire ravaged through the structure with amazing swiftness. The snow in the yard melted as the heat hammered out from it and the mice thawed themselves. Audrey opened the Starwife’s bag. There were only a few dried leaves and herbs left in it but she emptied them out onto her palm and cast them into the flames. ‘Speed to the Green!’ she commanded.

  The fire spluttered and for a moment tiny stars of emerald spat and fizzled in its heart. Almost immediately the blackened branches crumbled and collapsed. The flames dwindled and the snow that had melted iced over as the temperature plummeted once again.

  ‘It is done,’ said Audrey. ‘It would be better if we went inside now.’ Everyone looked at her curiously, not least Thomas who wondered how she had known the correct words when she had never heard them before. But they admitted it was too cold to remain outside any longer and hurried indoors to escape the wind.

  The Hall was not much warmer. Even when they plugged up the hole in the kitchen the extreme chill of winter lingered. Arthur looked at the dying embers on the slate and knew it would not be long before they too froze to death.

  Children wailed and turned pinched, hungry; faces to their mothers but there was nothing for them to eat. ‘What are we to do?’ beseeched the distraught parents, ‘my baby needs food.’ The Raddle sisters fanned their paws before each other’s faces frantically trying not to faint.

  ‘Oh Oswald,’ blubbered Mrs Chitter, ‘I shan’t ever see you again.’

  Thomas looked on this desperate scene and wished he could do something. ‘Oh Gwennie,’ he sighed to Mrs Brown, ‘what now?’

  ‘Trust in the Green, Thomas,’ she replied ‘that is all any of us can do.’

  ‘Aye,’ he muttered doubtfully, ‘but when will . . .’

  ‘Hush!’ Gwen interrupted him. ‘Listen, can you hear?’ The midshipmouse wrinkled his brow at her: in surprise but he tilted his head and cocked an ear. There, faint at first, was a curious scraping noise.

  ‘What is it?’ Gwen asked. ‘Where is it coming from?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ whispered Thomas. He called out for quiet and everyone listened to the sound. It became louder, like sharp nails dragging down a blackboard. The Raddle sisters shuddered and yelped.

  ‘It’s coming from out there,’ cried Arthur running to the great, boarded up front door. The noise continued to screech and then suddenly . . .

  BANG!

  ‘What was that?’ boomed Thomas in alarm as the door buckled and sent Arthur reeling backwards.

  BANG!

  There it was again and the mice squeaked with fright.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Whatever was out there was trying to break in. The door quivered as the pounding blows became a battering frenzy. Mrs Chitter screamed and fled into the Skirtings. The air trembled at the ferocity of the attack and the walls vibrated ominously.

  ‘It’s mighty powerful whatever it is,’ breathed Thomas.

  Audrey felt the back of her neck tingle and a feeling of overwhelming dread rushed down her spine as she sensed waves of pure evil ricochet into the Hall.

  ‘Go away!’ Master Oldnose shouted at the unknown thing behind the door, but his voice was thin and fearful. The savage onslaught went on regardless.

  ‘Get out of the way there!’ bellowed Thomas herding the stricken onlookers from the front of the Hall.

  ‘Oh Thomas,’ said Gwen, ‘who is it? What does it want?’

  But he did not answer for at that moment the door cracked and splinters sharp as needles flew out. The mice shrieked and cowered as far back as they could.

  A chink of light appeared in the towering expanse of fracturing wood and sawing and cutting through as though it were paper, a vicious point of ice jabbed its way in. Another glaring hole was punched out and a second stabbing icicle forced the splitting wood inwards. ‘Ice spears,’ gasped Arthur trembling in fear. ‘He’s sent his army to get us.’

  More of the evil spears smashed into the door and to everyone’s horror phantom claws reached through the jagged holes they had made, groping and searching for prey.

  It was a dreadful sight to watch, as the ghostly legion tore at their only defence with claw and ice. Everyone was too afraid to move and stared at the nightmare dumbly. The heap of splinters and shavings grew thick on the floor as the holes widened and arms thrashed in, reaching greedily out for the unwary.

  Thomas shook himself out of his terror. ‘They’ll be through soon,’ he shouted, ‘quick, everyone, into the cellar.’

  They looked at him in panic. ‘We’re not going down there!’ they cried.

  ‘Then where will you go?’ roared Thomas. ‘If you run back to your homes, they will find and kill you and if you run outside the winter will get you.’

  ‘But down there,’ they spluttered, ‘we’ll be running into worse danger.’

  ‘Rubbish
,’ thundered the midshipmouse. ‘Jupiter’s not in the sewers anymore! We must get away while there’s still time.’

  ‘But where will you take them Thomas?’ Gwen asked. ‘Won’t those foul things follow us?’

  ‘Mebbe,’ he replied. ‘but what else can we do? There’s no use tryin’ to fight that motley crew – I’ve’ tried. We can only run now a’ that means Greenwich! To my ship we’ll go, an’ then who knows?’

  ‘Aaaaiiieee!’ screamed Algy pointing at a large hole. There, rising above the floating haze of sawdust came a hideous, spectral head, the blank, hollow eye sockets peered in and turned malignantly towards the frightened gathering. The black mouth fell open to utter a bloodcurdling moan that was filled with malice and hatred of the living. Shrieking for their lives the mice surged through the cellar door and poured down the stone steps.

  Jacob Chitter ran into the Skirtings and carried out his wailing wife who protested all the way. ‘Put me down,’ she whined, ‘I’m not going in there.’

  Audrey was swept along by the panicking crowd. She felt like an autumn leaf plucked up by the ravaging wind and having no control over where it was taken. Her feet hardly touched the ground as the jostling, rushing mice swarmed thickly into the darkness of the cellar.

  ‘Through the Grille quickly,’ Arthur called, ‘or we’ll be trapped.’

  Some of the mice held back. It was, after all, the symbol of the Underworld and had been a place to dread and shun all their lives.

  Thomas barked his instructions; ‘Ladies and children first, Arthur you go and lead them in.’

  Nervously they began to scramble through the rusted gap in the ornate ironwork, whilst from up above there came a sickening crash as the door finally gave way to the phantom horde. At this everyone squealed and pushed harder to escape from those terrible spears. ‘Careful!’ roared Thomas, ‘You’ll crush the little ’uns.’

  Audrey was shoved and squashed till the breath was squeezed from her body. A hefty mouse from the Landings trod clumsily on her tail but in the clamour and confusion he did not hear her cry out. Muttering angrily she wrenched it free but the silver bell on her tail shot off and rolled tinkling out of reach as the crowd moved forward once more, dragging her with it.

  ‘My bell!’ she cried unhappily but it was lost under the heavy tramp of frightened feet.

  A rough paw seized her and she was pulled through the throng by Mr Cockle who had seen her in difficulties. ‘There you go young Audrey,’ he said when she staggered out of the congestion.

  ‘Hey, it’s me next,’ spat a Landings lady barging forward. She thrust Audrey out of her way but Thomas stepped in and gripped the graceless mouse’s arm. He brushed her to one side and smiled charmingly, ‘Manners please Madam,’ he told her. ‘Your turn Mrs Scuttle,’ he said, holding the mass and the fuming snob back for Audrey.

  Thomas allowed Mrs Brown in next to teach the selfish creature a lesson. ‘Hurry,’ cried Gwen as she followed her daughter and passed through the rusted iron entrance.

  ‘In you go Arabel, don’t fret now,’ said Mr Chitter as he stuffed his wife into the Grille. ‘There’s nothing at all to be scared of down there.’ But he kissed his mousebrass nervously before following her.

  There were only a dozen or so left to pass through and Thomas glanced warily up the steps. He could hear the horrible moans of the wraiths dragging their ice spears over the wreckage. ‘Come on,’ Thomas whispered urgently to himself as Mr Cockle, the last of the mice, disappeared into the gloom beyond the metal leaves.

  The midshipmouse fell to his knees and scrabbled through. Just as he whipped his tail in an ice spear crashed onto the floor behind.

  The sewers rang with small gasps that echoed round the arched tunnels. Only four of them had ever ventured down here and the other hundred or so gazed fearfully round at the dripping walls and slimy ledges. The water below was thick with islands of dirty, black ice which sluggishly swirled past. It was certainly living up to all their expectations, they could not imagine a worse place and bleated pathetically.

  They had squeezed themselves onto the narrow ledge and a long, miserable line of them stretched far into the evil-smelling distance. Thomas came limping up at the rear and shouted to the front where he presumed Arthur was.

  ‘You there matey?’ he yelled. The sewers snatched up his voice and it boomed through them like a gong.

  ‘I’m here Mr Triton,’ answered a smaller echo.

  ‘Do you remember the way to Greenwich lad?’ Thomas called.

  ‘I think so,’ came the reply.

  ‘Then lead on matey!’

  Slowly the great queue shuffled along and with a last, worried glance backwards, Thomas followed.

  Audrey was sandwiched between her mother and Mrs Chitter who complained incessantly, whinging at the state of her muddy toes and constantly blaming her husband for bringing her down here. Audrey would have turned round and told the stupid old biddy to shut up if she hadn’t been forced to keep an eye on the treacherous ledge herself. The way was icy and perilous, and more than once somebody cried out as they fell over and everyone behind had to stop and wait till they picked themselves up again before they could continue.

  Through the dank, darkness they filed, round sharp bends and corners, over fallen brickwork and through narrow arches. As she was gingerly stepping over a pool of frozen slime Audrey recognized the spot where she had first met Madame Akkikuyu. She smiled as she remembered the poor unloved fortune-teller – and then it happened again.

  The sewers and the sound of Mrs Chitter’s mewling faded far away and she felt herself drift blissfully from them. ‘Go back,’ said a soft voice in her head, ‘return to the garden, go back, go back.’

  ‘Hurry along there child,’ gabbled Mrs Chitter crossly, ‘stop gawping and get out from under my feet, you’re slowing everyone down.’

  Audrey was jolted back to the grim world and stared in confusion at the ranting fusspot. ‘I can’t go with you,’ she mouthed distractedly. ‘I must go back.’

  ‘Oh my!’ exclaimed a surprised Mrs Chitter as the girl pushed past her. ‘Audrey!’ called Gwen turning round. ‘Where are you going? Stop her someone.’

  ‘I say,’ declared Master Oldnose when she approached him, ‘just you hang on a minute young lady. Ooof!’ Audrey had dug him in the ribs and nipped smartly by.

  Fighting her way through the astonished line of mice she bustled and squirmed. A fierce determination had seized her and the urge to return home was overwhelming. She shrugged off the paws that tried to catch her and kicked those who stood stubbornly in her way.

  ‘Now then lass,’ barked a stern voice and two strong paws gripped her shoulders, ‘what’s this in aid of?’ Thomas asked impatiently.

  ‘Out of my way Triton!’ snapped Audrey furiously. ‘I have to get back at once.’ She glared into his eyes and her temper flared. ‘Crawl back into your bottle and let me go!’ she demanded haughtily.

  Thomas flinched as though he had been hit and released her. She sounded exactly like the Starwife! He tugged his hat in respect and stepped aside, ‘Sorry Ma’am,’ he said automatically.

  Audrey dashed past him and now that she was free of all those hindering ditherers she hastened through the tunnels, retracing her footsteps. Thomas watched her go with a scared look on his face. The girl was undoubtedly running to her doom. He hobbled after but with his wounded leg it was useless and he shook his head. ‘Green save you,’ he muttered.

  The narrow passage that led to the Grille was now lined with frost and gleaming icicles dripped from the ironwork. Cautiously Audrey crawled between the wintry stalactites and looked out of the grating to the cellar beyond. It was dark but she could see no sign of the fierce spectres. Only a fine layer of twinkling rime covering everything told her that they had been there at all.

  Audrey squeezed through the gap, made smaller by the choking ice, and listened carefully. Not a sound came to her. The house had never been so silent. Where had Jupiter’s army got to? As
she made her way over the frozen cellar floor something caught her eye: it was her silver bell. The tail ornament was glued to the ground by the ice and she had to pull with all her strength to free it. With a sad smile Audrey examined her treasure. The little loop was broken, making it impossible to wear. She closed her fingers round it and looked up at the stone stairway. If only she could manage to get to the garden.

  Audrey closed her eyes and readied herself for whatever might happen. Behind the cellar door the entire horde of Jupiter’s phantom warriors could be waiting with their spears raised in readiness. She swallowed hard and began to climb. Up she went and all the while ghastly imaginings filled her mind. Maybe they wouldn’t kill her straight away! What if they took her directly to Jupiter himself? Audrey’s heart was in her mouth and her head was spinning with apprehension and fear as she stood on the topmost stair and put her paw to the door. She gave it a push and it creaked ominously open.

  The Hall appeared to be empty, save for the devastation left by the ghosts. A great, gaping, ragged hole glared where the massive front door had stood and tatters of wood were strewn all over the floor. A biting gale blasted through the house and snow gusted in. The fire was quenched and its embers had frozen over. The Unbeest’s winter had entered the building and nothing could live there now,’ The cruel cold had cracked the walls from floor to ceiling. The staircase had shrunk away from the bannister which hung precariously from the landing, groaning and threatening to crash down at any moment. The Skirtings had been ripped apart by mindless claws and the contents of humble homes were scattered heedlessly about. It must have been a crazed, brutal attack to have done so much damage in so little time.

  It was a shocking sight but Audrey was unmoved. Her sole objective was to get to the yard and nothing, even this, would stop her. She hesitated for a second to be certain that she was indeed alone, but not a thing stirred and only the biting wind filled her ears. It whistled forlornly through the rails of the ruined stair rods and swirled the thick snowflakes into a mad ballet about her. Audrey walked slowly down the Hall but her pace quickened. The noise of the creaking bannister sounded eerily like footsteps prowling behind her. She ran into the kitchen and tore the stuffing from the hole that led outside and emerged into the freezing, white world.