Mossflower Part 2

25.

Across the lea, beneath the leaves, When countrylands wake up to spring, Hurrah here comes the Prince of Thieves, Hear every small bird sing.

So daring and so handsome too, He makes a wondrous sight, But if he comes to visit you, Lock up your treasures tight.

Sunlight sparkled on the chuckling stream that had lain iced over and silent all winter. Snowdrops nodded agreeably to crocus on the warm southerly breeze. Spring was everywhere. Golden daffodils and their paler narcissus relatives stood guard between the budding trees of Mossfiower Woods; evergreens that had endured the dark winter took on a new fresh life.

Gonff was returning from another successful visit to Kotir. The wine flasks b.u.mped and banged against his broad belt as he skipped nimbly through the flowering woodlands, singing aloud with the heady intoxication of springtime.

Cuckoo, cuckoo, good day, my friend, to you. O sly one you know best. To lay in others' nest, Is a trick you often do. 26 But I am smarter, sir, than you, Cuckoo, my friend cuckoo.

The blood coursed madly through GonfF's young veins like the waters of a brook, gurgling happily and generally making him so light-headed that he turned somersaults. Every so often he would pull a reed flute from his tunic and twiddle away with the sheer joy of being alive on such a morning as this. With a great whoop Gonff threw himself into a thick tussock of gra.s.s and lay with the perspiration rising from him in a small column of steam. Overhead the sky was a delicate blue with small white clouds scudding on the breeze. Gonff imagined what it would be like to lie upon a small fluffy white cloud and allow himself to be buffeted about in the sunny sky.

"Whooooaaa, look out, zoom, b.u.mp, whoof! Out of the way you big clouds." The little mousethief held tight to the gra.s.s, swaying from side to side as he played out his game of makebelieve.

He did not notice the two weasels dressed in Kotir armor until too late. They stood over him looking grim and officious.

Gonff7 smiled impudently, aware of his clunking wine flasks. "Er, aha ha. h.e.l.lo, mateys, I was flying my cloud, you see . . ."

The larger of the two prodded him with a spearb.u.t.t. "Come pa you, on your paws. You're wanted at Kotir."

Gonff winked at him cheerily. "Kotir? You don't say! Well, bow nice! Listen, you two good chaps, nip along and tell them I'm busy today but I'll pop in early tomorrow."

The spearpoint at Gonff's throat discouraged further light banter. The smaller of the two weasels kicked GonfF. "Up you come, thief. Now we know where the best cheeses and elderberry wine have been going all winter. You'll pay for Stealing from Kotir."

Gonff stood slowly. Placing a paw on his plump little stomach he looked from one guard to the other with an air of innocence. "Me, steal? I beg your pardon, sirs, did you know the head cook has given me permission to borrow what I please from his larder? Actually, I was going to return the 27.

favor by sending him some good recipes. I understand his cooking leaves something to be desired."

The large weasel laughed mirthlessly. "Shall I tell you something, thief? The head cook has personally vowed to skin you with a rusty knife and roast what's left of you for supper.''

Gonff nodded appreciatively. "Oh good, I do hope he saves some for me ... ouch!"

Prodded between two spears, he marched off with the guards in the direction of Kotir.

A pale shaft of sunlight penetrated between the iron bars of the high window slit. The walls of the cell dripped moisture, and sometimes the faint trill of a skylark on the fiatlands reached the prisoner. Martin knew that this was the onset of full, burgeoning springtime. His face was haggard, his body much thinner, but his eyes still shone with the warrior's angry brightness.

Martin rose and paced the cell with the sword handle about his neck; it seemed to grow heavier with time. Fifteen paces, whichever way he went-from door to wall or from wall to wall, it was always fifteen paces. He had paced it many times as the days and weeks grew into months. Gingivere was too iar away to converse with, besides, it only made the guards angry. They stopped his bread and water for attempting to speak to the one whose name it was forbidden to mention. Now Martin believed that he really had been forgotten and left here to die under the new regime of Tsarmina. He stood in the shaft of weak sunlight, trying not to think of the world of blue skies and flowers outside.

"Get the little devil in there quick. It'll be less trouble to feed two at once. Ouch, my s.h.i.+n!"

Lost in thought, Martin had failed to hear the approach of guards bringing a prisoner to his cell door.

"Aargh, leggo my ear, you fiend. Hurry up with that door before he bites my lug clean off."

"Ouch. Ow. He nipped me! Keep him still while I find my key."

There was more shouting and scuffling as the key turned in the lock. Martin ran to the door but was immediately bowled over by another figure, which shot through the door- 28.

way straight in on top of him. Together they fell over backward, as the cell door slammed shut again. The two prisoners lay still until the pawsteps of the guards retreated down the corridor.

Martin moved gingerly, easing aside the body that had fallen on top of him. It giggled. He pulled his cellmate into the shaft of sunlight where he could view him more clearly.

Gonff winked broadly at him, played a short jig on his reed flute, then began singing, I knew a mouse in prison here, More than a hundred years.

His whiskers grew along the ground, And right back to his ears.

His eyes grew dim, his teeth fell out, His fur went silver-gray.

"If my grandad were here," he said, "I wonder what he'd say?"

Martin leaned against the wall. He could not help smiling at bis odd little cellmate.

*'Silly, how could the grandfather of a hundred-year-old mouse say anything? Sorry, my name's Martin the Warrior. What's yours?"

Gonff extended a paw. "Martin the Warrior, eh. By gum, Martin, you're a fine, strong-looking fellow, even though you could do with a bit of fattening up. My name's Gonff the Thief, or Prince of Mousethieves to you, matey."

Martin shook Gonff warmly by the paw. "Prince of Mousethieves, by the fur. You could be the King of the Sky, as long as I've got a cellmate to speak to. What did they throw you in here for?"

Gonff winced. "Stop squeezing my paw to bits and I'll tell you."

They sat down on the straw together, Gonff ma.s.saging his jpaw. "They caught me running down the larder stocks of jvine and cheese, you see. But don't you worry, matey, I can Open any lock in Kotir. We won't be here for too long, you'll *ee. Leave it to Gonff."

X "You mean you can-we can-escape from here? How, 29.

when, where to?" Martin's voice tumbled out, shaky with excitement.

Gonff fell back against the wall, laughing. "Whoa, matey, not so fast! Don't worry, as soon as I get things organized we'll say byebye to this dump. But first, let's get you fed. They should be ashamed of themselves, keeping a great lump like you on bread and water.''

Martin shrugged and rubbed his hollow stomach. "Huh, what else is there? I was lucky to get bread and water sometimes. What do you suggest, fresh milk and oatcakes?"

"Sorry, matey. I haven't got milk or oatcakes. Would cheese and elderberry wine do you?" he asked seriously.

Martin was lost for words as GonfF opened his tunic and spilled out a wedge of cheese and a flat canteen of wine.

"Always keep this for emergencies or trading. Here, you may as well have it. I've had enough of cheese and wine for a bit."

Martin needed to second bidding. He wolfed away at the cheese, slopping wine as he gulped it into a full mouth. Gonff shook his head in wonder as the wine and cheese vanished rapidly. "Go easy, matey. You'll make yourself ill. Take your time."

Martin tried hard to take the good advice, but it was difficult after so long on starvation rations. As he ate he questioned Gonff. "Tell me, what have I walked into around here, Gonff? I'm only a lone warrior pa.s.sing through; I know nothing of Mossflower and wildcats."

The mousethief scratched his whiskers reflectively. "Now, let me see, where to begin. Since long before I was born the old tyrant Verdauga Greeneyes, Lord of the Thousand thin-gummies and so on, has ruled over Mossflower. One day long ago, he swept in here at the head of his army. They came down from the north, of course. The fortress must have been what attracted him. To woodlanders it was nothing but an old ruin that had always been there; Verdauga saw it differently, though. This was a place of plenty where he could settle, so he moved straight in, repaired it as best as he could, called the place Kotir and set himself up as a tyrant. There were none to oppose him; the woodlanders are peaceable creatures--they had never seen a full army of trained soldiers, nor wildcats. Verdauga could do just as he pleased, but he 30.

was clever: he allowed our creatures to live within his shadow and farm the land. Half of everything they produced was taken as a tax to feed him and his vermin:"

"Didn't anyone fight back?" Martin interrupted.

Gonff nodded sadly. "Oh yes, even now there are old ones who are still too frightened to tell of how Verdauga and his cruel daughter put down the poorly organized rebellion. Those who were not ma.s.sacred were thrown into this very prison and left to rot. I'm told my own parents were among them, but I don't know the truth of it. When the rebellion was broken, Verdauga proved what a clever general he was. He actually made a kind of peace with the woodlanders. They were allowed to live within Kotir's shadow and farm the land. He said he would protect us from further attacks by bands wandering down from the north. We were partly enslaved then and very much disorganized. Not having any proper fighting strength and with all the rebellious fighters out of the way, most creatures seemed just to accept their lot. Then last summer Verdauga became ill. Since he has been sick, he has left the running of the settlement to his daughter, Tsarmina. Unlike her father, she is cruel and evil. Woodlanders have been driven too hard out on the fields and not allowed enough o live on. Hedgehogs like Ben Stickle and his family dare not run away; where could they go, with young ones to care fw? However, things became so bad that a lot of them took the chance and escaped from the settlement. As the numbers grew less, Tsarmina demanded more and more from the few. I tell you, matey, it's a sad tale."

, They sat side by side, watching the shaft of sunlight striking the cell floor. Martin pa.s.sed the wine to Gonff. "What do you know about the wildcat called Gingivere?" - Gonff took a sip of the wine and pa.s.sed it back. "I know he never took part in any killing. Woodlanders always hoped that Verdauga would pa.s.s the reins to him. He's supposed to be a good sort, for a wildcat, that is. Now you take the sister, Tsarmina. She is pure evil-they say that she is far more Savage than Verdauga. I've heard the gossip around Kotir when IVe been visiting here, matey-do you know, they say $M Greeneyes is dead and his son in prison here, so that peans Tsarmina must be the new ruler now.' * v Martin nodded. "It's true. I saw and heard it myself. Gin-31 givere is in a cell far down the corridor. I tried to speak to him but it's too far away." The warrior mouse banged his paw against the wall in frustration. "Why doesn't somebody do something, Gonff?"

The mousethief tapped the side of his nose and lowered his voice. "Sit still and listen, matey. Now the last families have left the settlement, we're making plans. All the scattered families and woodlanders have banded together out there in Mossfiower Woods. They're learning to become strong once more, and the old spirit of defeat is gone now. We have real fighters training, otters and squirrels, besides hedgehogs and moles and the likes of me. WeVe even got a badger, Bella of Brock hall; her family used to rule Mossflower in the good old days. You'll like her. Together we form the Council of Resistance in Mossflower-Corim, see, take the first letter of each word. Ha, we're getting stronger every day."

Martin felt the excitement rising within him again. "Do you think that the Corim know we're locked up here. Will they help us to escape?"

Gonff winked broadly, a sly grin on his face. "Sssshhhhh, not so loud, matey. Wait and see."

He pa.s.sed the wine flask across to Martin. "Tell me something, matey. Why do they call you warrior? Where are you from? Did you live in a place like Mossflower? Was it nice?"

Martin put the wine to one side and lay back, staring at the ceiling. "Where I come from, Gonff, there are no forests, only rocks, gra.s.s, and hills. Aye, that's the northland. I never knew a mother. I was brought up by my father, Luke the Warrior-my family have always been warriors. We lived in caves, constantly under attack by roaming bands of sea rats who came inland. You were forced to defend your cave, your piece of land, or be overrun. There were other families like us, I had lots of friends-there was Thrugg the Strong, Ar-rowtail, Felldoh the Wrestler, Timballisto."

Martin smiled at the memory of his companions. "Ah, it wasn't so bad, I suppose. All we seemed to do was eat, sleep and fight in those days. As soon as I was tall enough I learned to lift my father's sword and practice with it."

He touched the broken weapon strung about his neck. "Many's the enemy learned his lesson at the point of this sword-sea rats, mercenary foxes too. One time my father 32.

was wounded and had to stay in our cave. Ha, I remembei all that summer, fighting off foes while he lay at the cave entrance preparing our food and calling advice to me. Then one day he took off with a band of older warriors to meet the jea rats on the sh.o.r.es of the waters far away. They were *opposed to make an end to all invading rats forever. It was t brave idea. Before he went he gave me his trusty old sword, then he left carrying spear and s.h.i.+eld. My father said that I should stay behind and defend our cave and land, but if he did not return by late autumn then I was to do as I felt fit."

Gonff nodded. "And he never returned?"

Martin closed his eyes. "No, he never came back. I defended our land alone, against all comers. That was when they started calling me Martin the Warrior instead of Son of Luke the Warrior. I left it as late as I could that autumn; then there seemed no point in defending a cave and land just for myself. I started to march south alone. Who knows how far I would have got if I hadn't been stopped at Kotir."

Gonff stood up and stretched. "I'm glad you did stop here, matey. I'd hate to be sitting in this cell talking to myself. I'd sooner talk to a warrior like you."

Martin pa.s.sed the wine back. "Aye, and I'd sooner be locked up with a thief like yourself than wandering about alone, matey."

33.

It was strange that at the very moment Gonff and Martin were discussing Corim, the council of that name was talking of them. Ben Stickle's humble home was crammed with woodland creatures, the largest of whom was a badger, Bella of Brockhall. She presided over the meeting. Also present were the Skipper of otters, Lady Amber the squirrel Chief, Ben Stickle and Billum, a dependable mole who was deputizing for his leader. Seated by the fire, Beech the squirrel answered council questions.

"Where did you see Gonif captured?" "Westerly, over near the fringe by Kotir." "Whatever was Gonif doing to let himself get captured?" "Oh the usual, skylarkin' and foolin' about." "You say it was two of Verdauga's soldiers." "Aye, no doubt o' that. In uniform and carryin' spears." "Where were you when all this took place, Beech?" "Sittin* up an old oak not far off." "Did you hear what they said?"

"Heard 'em say they was takin* him off to Kotir, Of course, you know Gonff. Treated it like a big joke, he did. No doubt they'll have wiped the silly grin off his whiskers by now down in old Greeneyes' cells."

Lady Amber nodded at Beech. "Well done. Anything else to report?"

"No, marm. I followed them as far as I could, then I 34.

spotted Argulor perched in a spruce. Couldn't say if he was awake, so I decided to come back here, knowin' there was a gatherin' of Corim."

Ben Stickle winked at Beech. "Aye, it's late noon, too. There's a pot of spring vegetable soup, cheese, and nutbread. D'you think you could manage some, Beech?"

The squirrel winked back at Ben, bobbed his head respectfully to the Corim leaders and was gone before further questions could be thought up.

Bella rubbed huge paws across her eyes and sat back with a grunt of despair. "Well, here's another pretty pickle our mousethief has got himself into. Any suggestions?"

Amber clucked disapprovingly. ' 'If I had my way, I 'd leave the silly creature to stew his paws in Kotir awhile. That'd teach him a lesson."

There were murmurs of agreement.

The Skipper of otters whacked his rudderlike tail against the hearth. "Belay that kind o' talk, mates. You all know that the little uns would have gone hungry many a time, 'cept for the thief." Skipper gave a good-natured chuckle. "That Gonff is my kind of mouse, a true messmate. A bit light of paw, but good-hearted and an able-bodied shanty singer.''

Ben Stickle raised a paw. "I vote we rescue GonrT. We'd be ashamed to call ourselves true woodlanders, leaving one of our own in Kotir prison."

Billum lifted a velvety paw. "Hurr, do moi vote count whoil gaffer Foremole's not yurr?"

Bella thought for a moment while they all digested the meaning of the rustic molespeech. "Of course, Billum. After all, you are Foremole's deputy and the Corim respect your judgment as a sensible mole."

Billum squinted his round eyes with pleasure at the compliment.

By a show of paws the vote to rescue Gonff was unanimous. Then there was a temporary respite for refreshment, while the a.s.sembly helped themselves to bowls of Goodwife Stickle's famed spring vegetable soup, farls of warm nutbread and ripe yellow cheese.

Lady Amber smiled fondly at two little hedgehogs who were trying to look very fierce and brave, knowing that she 35.

was always ready to recruit warriors into her band. She dealt with them as if they were two bold squirrels.

"Shows me your paws. Hram, you'd probably make good climbers after some training. You certainly look tough enough. Goody, are these two young villains very strong?"

Goodwife put down her ladle and wiped her paws on her ap.r.o.n. "Ho my, yes. Ferdy and Coggs are two of the strongest. Why, you wouldn't believe your eyes if you saw these two a-gatherin* up all those great heavy dishes and was.h.i.+n' pots. There's no two hogs more powerful."

Much smiling and winking was in evidence as Ferdy and Coggs gathered bowls, grunting with exertion as they proved their strength by scouring a large cauldron between them.

Buckling down to the business of Gonff, the Corim set about planning his escape.

Argulor had returned to Mossflower. No creature could say why he had deserted his mountain stronghold hi the far West; maybe it was that he enjoyed the comfort of woodlands where prey was far more plentiful. Argulor was a golden eagle of great age. He had grown too slow and short-sighted to pursue small creatures, so staying within handy range of Kotir and Verdauga's troops suited him. But the frightening strength and savagery of an eagle had not deserted Argulor, and if the chance of a larger animal came his way he took it, with curving talons and fierce hooked beak. Ferrets, rats, weasels and stoats made good eating, and besides, there was a pine marten living in Kotir. Admittedly it was a bit battered and bent, but Argulor had never tasted pine marten before and was determined that one day he would do so. The eagle and the wildcats had crossed trails many times over the years. Each had a healthy respect for the other. With the exception of Tsarmina. Whenever Argulor was sighted circling the sky over Kotir, Verdauga's daughter incited the soldiers to fire arrows and throw stones at the great bird, offering rewards to the creature that could bring him down. Argulor was not unduly worried by a mob of vermin loosing missiles at him, as he could outdistance anything they chose to throw. Sometimes he would hover on a thermal, slightly out of range, trying with his failing eyesight to catch a glimpse of the de- 36.

sired marten, or Tsarmina, whom he hated. Bright spring sunlight warmed his wings as he wheeled above the fortress.

Ashleg cringed behind his wildcat mistress as she stood glaring upward at the soaring eagle. "Shoot, you fools! Not over there, idiots! There, see, right above your thick heads."

The soldiers continued firing without success. Tsarmina grabbed a particularly slow ferret and cuffed him soundly about the head. Hurling the smarting creature to one side, she picked up his bow and notched an arrow to the string. Taking careful aim, she paused a moment as the eagle swooped lower. Swiftly she loosed the barbed shaft with a powerful hiss of flighted feathers. To the surprise of the watchers, Argulor wheeled to one side then shot upward in pursuit of the arrow. Up he went until the shaft had reached its peak of flight, then wheeling quickly inward the eagle caught the arrow in his talon and contemptuously snapped it. Zooming downward, he flew low enough to stare for a second at Tsarmina, then he beat the air with ma.s.sive wing-strokes, flying away into the blue yonder.

Tsarmina would have vented her rage upon Ashleg, but he had vanished inside when he saw the eagle diving.

"Get out of my sight, you useless lot of buffoons!"

The soldiers followed Ashleg with all speed, each trying not to be last as Tsarmina was in the mood for making examples.

The wildcat stood alone pondering a question: where had she seen that same look of vengeance and fearlessness before? The mouse, that was it! She could not even recall his name; anyhow, he probably hadn't lasted the winter down in the cells.

Tsarmina watched a furtive figure coming across the parade ground, ducking and weaving, flattening itself in the shadows. She snorted scornfully; it was only Fortunata. "Frightened of a blind old eagle, vixen?"

"Milady, I was ducking the arrows and stones of your soldiers as they came down, but that was a good shot of yours," Fortunata said in a fawning voice. "A pity that the eagle caught it in midair."

The vixen jumped sharply to one side as Tsarmina fired an arrow from the ferret's bow. It landed where her paw had been a moment before.

37.

Tsarmina notched another arrow, her eyes glinting cruelly. "Right, let's see what you're best at, fox-catching arrows or getting inside with a civil tongue in your head."