Lord Brocktree Page 14

  Stonepaw scratched his stripes pensively. ‘I was here in Nurse Willoway’s time. She was a stern creature. I’ll never forget those herbal tonics and physics Willoway brewed up for the young ’uns. What a smell! Glad I never had to take ’em. Wait! Littlebob hare? I recall that – ’twas the one little haremaids used to chant when I swung the rope for them to skip. I’ll tell you what, old friend. You and I will sit down someplace quiet together with a bite of cheese and some ale. We’ll work it out together, and Blench can write it down as we remember it. Right, Stiffener, your turn for sentry go. Blench, get some charcoal from the fire and a flat piece of stone; the rest of you, take a nap and stay clear of Bramwil and me!’

  Torleep put his ear to the barred oak door of the cell where the captives had been locked. He listened carefully, trying to distinguish the voices he could hear coming from somewhere beyond, but he was distracted by a fat, hungry old hare called Woebee, bewailing the fact that she was short of food, as some – or most – hares will. Torleep tried ignoring her, an impossible feat.

  ‘Bit of a frost that was, Sailears old gel. If you an’ Torleep hadn’t cheeked the Trunn beast we might’ve had a morsel between us to keep fur’n’ears together. My word, I can’t ever recall starvin’ like this. I’m gettin’ pains in me tummy. What time is it? Just past noon, wot. I’d normally be sittin’ down to me post-luncheon snack now. Rosepetal an’ maple wafers, scones with strawberry preserve an’ meadowcream, with a nice pot o’ mint an’ comfrey tea. Now we haven’t got a crust or a confounded swig o’ water ’twixt the lot of us. How long’ll we have t’put up with this state of affairs? Starvin’s no fun!’

  Torleep let the crystal monocle drop from his eye. His temper was fraying dangerously listening to Woebee’s endless monologue – she seemed to go on and on and on. Normally polite, he rounded on her brusquely. ‘I say, marm, d’you mind givin’ the old jaws a blinkin’ rest, wot? Confound it all, we could be a lot worse off!’

  Woebee sniffed indignantly. ‘Indeed, sah? A lot worse off, y’say? Pray how?’

  Torleep pointed stiffly down with his paw. ‘Well for a start, we could have been locked up in the cellars, in the flippin’ dark! Granted we’ve got no food, but at least we can see daylight!’ He gestured to the round hole which formed a window.

  Sailears nodded her agreement. ‘Lovely view of the sea from up here, wot. S’pose Trunn thought that if they’d locked us up in the cellars Lord Stonepaw an’ the others may’ve broken us out.’

  Woebee poked her head out of the window hole. The cell was really high up on the mountain. Down below the beach looked like a mere yellow ribbon, beyond which the great sea stretched until it was lost in a blue haze. ‘Maybe we’d have been better off down below. There’s absolutely no escape from this high-up place. I say, Torleep, I can hear those voices you mentioned clearer from here.’

  Hurrying to the window, Torleep confirmed her observation. ‘Stap me, you’re right, marm. Now I beg you, please be silent whilst I eavesdrop. May hear somethin’ jolly important!’

  Two of Ungatt Trunn’s horde captains were holding a conversation in the chamber below the cell. Well out of Ungatt Trunn’s hearing, Roag the weasel and Mirefleck the rat were discussing the Hordes’ position.

  ‘Our soldiers’ll take a lot o’ feedin’, Roag, mark my words.’

  ‘The Great One ain’t no fool, he knows that. Tomorrow the fleet’s puttin’ out to sea for fishin’. There’s a couple o’ patrols goin’ to forage the cliffs an’ dunes for birds’ eggs!’

  ‘Wastin’ their time. No birds or eggs out there – we killed off the seabirds out at sea, afore we got here, an’ the rest flew off. I still don’t see where all the vittles will come from.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll find somethin’ sooner or later, I s’pose. Bet we get sent with our troops on an inland forage. Meanwhile it ain’t too bad for the likes of us – we get to live off’n the stripedog’s larders for a while. Good vittles, eh?’

  ‘Aye, that they are. Come on, we’d better get downstairs. The Mighty One’s still carryin’ on about the stripedog an’ his followers hidin’ in the cellar caves. I’d hate t’be them when they’re captured. You know what Trunn’s like-they’ll die long’n’slow.’

  ‘I ’eard the Mighty One’s starvin’ this lot up above so that sooner or later one of ’em’ll break an’ tell where the stripedog’s hid ’imself.’

  ‘I’ve ’eard that too, but suppose they don’t tell an’ he finds the stripedog an’ those others? What d’you think he’ll do with this lot in the cell above?’

  ‘Oh, they won’t be no use any more. Long’n’slow, that’ll be their fate, long’n’slow . . .’

  In the cell above, every hare had heard the conversation. When the captains had gone, there was a deadly silence among the prisoners. Woebee could not prevent a sob escaping her lips.

  Torleep patted her ears. ‘Don’t fret, marm, they won’t catch Lord Stonepaw. He’s a lot cleverer than those rotten vermin give him credit for.’

  Sailears stared out of the high window longingly. ‘I just wish there was somethin’ we could jolly well do to escape this place. Nothin’ worse than sittin’ round just waitin’, wot!’

  Captains Mirefleck and Roag were passing the wildcat’s chamber when the door opened and Ungatt Trunn emerged with Fragorl at his heels. Both captains halted and saluted smartly.

  Their leader nodded. ‘Ah, I was just about to send for you. Listen now, I want you to take your troops – all your troops – down to the bottom caves. Flood those caves and passages with Hordebeasts. Show those other idiots down there how to snare an old stripedog and a few hares. I want them taken at any cost. Don’t fail me!’

  Mirefleck and Roag saluted stiffly and marched off, shouting orders to their column leaders. Ungatt Trunn addressed the silent Fragorl.

  ‘I’ve got a small task for you, too. Take whom you like and find me some new spiders. There must be lots in this cave-riddled mountain and the rocks outside. Bring them to me in the stripedog’s chamber – they can build webs there and redecorate it for me. Treat them carefully when you find them.’

  ‘I live only to serve your word, Mightiness!’ The Grand Fragorl glided soundlessly off.

  Old Bramwil was blinking drowsily by the time they had pieced together the skipping rhyme. Stonepaw was tired too. He stifled a yawn. ‘Well, I hope we haven’t forgotten anything. Read it out, Blench.’

  The cook read aloud from her neat lines of script, soon picking up the skiprope chant, which little hares had called out long ago as they held their smocks and skipped.

  ‘Down in the cellars where nobeast goes,

  Littlebob hare went runnin’,

  He ran an’ ran an’ followed his nose,

  Where rocks never let the sun in.

  He got very tired an’ sat by a pool,

  Then found out to his cost sir,

  That he was nought but a silly fool,

  Who’d got himself lost down there.

  “Oh woe is me,” cried Littlebob,

  “’Tis dark an’ so unsightly,

  I must find some way out o’ here,

  To where the sun shines brightly.”

  So he climbed up to the coiling snake,

  All damp an’ slippy-feeling,

  An’ found beyond the big plum cake,

  A hole right through the ceiling.

  He went up through an’ chased the blue,

  An’ made it home for tea sir,

  He beat the tide an’ spinies too,

  But his mamma tanned his tailfur!’

  In the silence which followed, Stonepaw turned to his hares. ‘Well, let’s see if we can make it home for tea, friends – or out of here at least!’

  Trobee scratched between his ears. ‘Beg pardon, sah, but are you sure you got it right?’

  ‘As far as I can recall we did, right, Bramwil?’

  The ancient hare did not reply to the Badger Lord; he had drifted off to sleep. Blench gave her opinion. ‘H�
�it looks fine t’me, sire. Most of it’s just a leverets’ story, ’bout a liddle feller gettin’ hisself lost down ’ere. ’Tis the last eight lines is wot we want, from that bit about the coilin’ snake. Right?’

  Trobee was still a bit bewildered by it all. ‘Where in the name o’ salad do we find a climbin’ snake, wot?’

  A hare called Willip corrected him. ‘Not a climbin’ snake, ’twas a coilin’ snake. It says Littlebob climbed up to it. Up there!’ She pointed up at the cave ceiling.

  Like stargazers, the badger and his hares wandered about the cavern, heads thrown back, staring at the stalactite formations.

  ‘Oops, got a drop o’ water in me eye!’

  ‘Watch where y’going, old chap. Go an’ bump into some otherbeast – you’ve near knocked me over twice now, wot!’

  ‘Stop right where y’are, Trobee, or you’ll walk straight into that pool!’

  ‘Oh, I say, haha, one of those thingies hangin’ down looks just like old Purlow with a great long nose. Hahaha!’

  ‘Huh! Well at least I’ve got a decent nose, not like that apple pip stuck on the end of your muzzle. Tchah!’

  ‘Ahaaah! There ’tis, I see it! There ’tis! . . .’ Splash!

  The Badger Lord’s huge paws scooped a dripping Trobee up from the pool. ‘Where? Point it out, quickly!’

  Dancing to and fro, shaking freezing water from his fur, Trobee tried to resight the coiling snake.

  ‘Er . . . er . . . where was I? Oh, confound it, I’ve lost the bloomin’ thing now. Dearie me, there’s only one thing for it. Get ready to fish me out again, sah. Here goes . . .’

  Trobee flung himself in the air, and an instant before he hit the pool his paw shot out. ‘There!’

  Stonepaw marked the spot in a flash. Unable to stop himself laughing, he hauled Trobee out of the water again. ‘Hohoho! Good old Trobee. Not only impressions of a bird an’ a fish, but you did find it, over there in the far corner! Don’t check it again, though. That pool looks to me as if it might go down for ever, and I might not manage to catch you next time!’

  Bramwil doddered forward, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘Not like you t’be takin’ a bath before summer, Trobee. What’s goin’ on here, sah?’

  Above the rock ledges in the cavern’s dark-shadowed corner the stalactite hung, formed by water dripping for countless ages and leaving minuscule limestone deposits which added gradually to its length. At some point in time the water took a different course, threading its way around the main column and forming into a type of embossed spiral winding about the stalactite: an unmistakable representation of a coiling snake.

  Stiffener, being the most agile, was brought in from sentry duty and replaced by Purlow. The boxing hare weighed up the route, shaking his head doubtfully.

  ‘Those ledges look much too slippery for our hares t’climb, sah. Did we bring any rope with us?’

  Stonepaw looked crestfallen. ‘We haven’t any rope at all.’

  ‘Then use bowstrings’n’belts, you puddens!’ Old Bramwil waved an apologetic paw. ‘Didn’t mean t’call you-a pudden, sah. Beg y’pardon.’

  The Badger Lord chuckled. ‘You can call me what you like as long as you come up with ideas like that, my old friend. Belts’n’bowstrings, eh? Right!’

  Cord girdles, woven belts and tough bowstrings were soon lashed together into an awkward but serviceable rope. Stiffener coiled it about his shoulders, spat on his paws and clambered on to the first ledge. It was worn smooth, wet and slick with trickling water.

  Willip scraped up a bit of damp sand from the stones at the pool edge, moulded it into a ball and tossed it up to Stiffener. ‘Here, catch! Rub this on your paws – ’twill help.’

  The grit did the trick. Up Stiffener went, clinging like a fly to the slippery rock ledges, with his friends below calling out advice to him.

  ‘Pin y’self flat against the wall an’ reach up for that bit stickin’ out above.’

  ‘Move y’paws left a touch, Stiff . . . bit more . . . that’s it!’

  ‘Now lie flat on y’tummy an’ wriggle along!’

  ‘See that crevice? Wedge into it an’ climb up there!’

  Gradually, bit by painstaking bit the boxing hare made his way upward until he reached the stalactite they were certain was the coiling snake. Leaning out from the ledge he took hold of it, inspecting the dark ceiling above. Bramwil called up to him. ‘D’you see the big plum cake? That’s what the rhyme says you want t’look for. Any sign?’

  Stiffener arched his neck back, searching. ‘Sire, can you move one o’ those big lanterns this way?’

  Stonepaw shifted a lantern directly beneath the hare.

  ‘So there y’are, me beauty! I found it, mates,’ Stiffener called. ‘Be back down in a tick. Stan’ clear, now!’

  The makeshift rope unravelled, its end hitting the floor. Stiffener came down it paw over paw in a manner that would have done credit to any squirrel. He landed lightly.

  ‘Up there, just right o’ that coilin’ snake thing, there’s the fat wide end of a stalactite which must’ve snapped off. Looks jus’ like a big ole plum cake, though not as good as the ones you bake, Blench marm. T’other side of it is a hole, goes straight through the ceilin’, sah. Any’ow, I swung across there an’ tied the rope round a liddle nub o’ rock, inside the hole, so we can all climb up there. I reckon the holespace might be wide enough to take a beast yore size, sah.’

  Lord Stonepaw hugged Stiffener fondly. ‘Splendid work, Stiffener. You’re a real corker!’

  Bramwil was the first to go, with Stiffener right behind him, lest the old fellow got into difficulties. Surprisingly he did quite well, though at one or two points Stiffener had to get his head and shoulders beneath Bramwil and push. Heaving the ancient hare through the hole, Stiffener started back down again.

  Stonepaw noticed the boxing hare was beginning to breathe heavily. ‘You won’t last out, clambering up and down that rope all the time. We’ll have to think of an easier way.’

  Stiffener squatted until his breathing eased. ‘Yore right, sah, I ain’t gittin’ any younger. I got an idea though. Let’s get two of our strongest up there with me, say, Purlow an’ Trobee. The three of us can stop up in the hole, run a fixed noose into the rope an’ hoist the rest up one by one. Wot d’ye think, sah?’

  Stonepaw agreed readily. ‘An excellent idea! Trobee, up y’go, friend. Purlow . . . Purlow?’

  A worried frown flashed across the badger’s face and he hurried to the concealed entrance, picking up a torch as he went. There was no sign of Purlow standing sentry in the narrow rift. Stonepaw heard yelling and clattering from outside. Forcing his great bulk through the crack, the Badger Lord pushed out into the passage and followed the sounds.

  Around the first bend, Purlow was being set upon by six or more vermin. He fell with two on top of him, the rest scrabbling to get at him. Stonepaw came hurtling into the fray, laying about him with the blazing torch.

  ‘Eulaliaaaa!’

  Ripping the two Hordebeasts off Purlow, the Badger Lord dispatched both by smashing them head on against the rock walls of the passage. Taking to their heels, the others fled, running wildly for their lives. Stonepaw pulled Purlow upright and retrieved his torch. ‘Are you badly hurt, my friend?’

  Though blood ran from Purlow’s jaw and back, he shook his head. ‘I’ll be all right, sah, but they’ve found our cave! ’Twas my mistake to step out into the passage holding a torch. I heard sounds, y’see, and walked right into the vermin like a fool!’

  The badger threw a paw about Purlow to steady him. ‘Come on, we’ll soon have you up through the hole and out!’

  But even as he found the cavern entrance, Stonepaw could hear the din of many vermin charging along the underground tunnels towards the secret cave that was no longer a secret.

  17

  SURROUNDED BY A virtual flotilla of shrew logboats, which were a bit more sophisticated than Ruff’s simple treetrunk, having been hollowed out and crossbenched, Dotti
and Gurth sat for’ard on their elm log, digging their paddles deep and calling out the pace in true Guosim fashion along with Log a Log Grenn’s shrews. Dotti liked the shrews, aware of a real sense of comradeship in their company. The vessels sped downstream together with a big shrew called Kubba calling the stroke in his fine bass voice.

  Taking his orders from Grenn, he bellowed out, ‘Ahoy, Guosim, we ain’t stoppin’ ’til we join the river, so let’s git our guests there good’n’fast. The stream’s a-runnin’ well an’ we’ll camp near the river fork. So bend yore backs, an’ let’s show our friends how Guosim shrews do it. Right, take y’stroke from me. One . . . two . . . waylaheykoom!’

  Everybeast bent to the paddles, roaring back at Kubba, ‘Shrumm! Shrumm!’

  Kubba called the stroke on every third beat: ‘Waylaheykoom!’

  Dotti and her friends joined the Guosim’s answer: ‘Shrumm! Shrumm!’

  ‘Oh the river is deep an’ swift an’ wide.’

  ‘Waylaheykoom!’

  ‘An’ there’s my matey at my side!’

  ‘Shrumm! Shrumm!’

  ‘With the sunlight beamin’ through the trees.’

  ‘Waylaheykoom!’

  ‘We’ll all remember days like these.’

  ‘Shrumm! Shrumm!’

  ‘Oh oh waylaheykoom shrumm shrumm shrew, I won’t forget a friend like you!’

  Brocktree and Ruff cheered when the Guosim quickened the pace. Showing off their prowess, experienced shrews twirled their paddles high on alternate strokes, clacking the blades against those of their neighbours and dipping back without breaking pace. Ruff was full of admiration for their skill. ‘Haharr, wot a fine ole bunch o’ waterbeasts this gang are!’

  Before long Gurth and Dotti had learned the trick.

  ‘Hurr hurr, miz Dott, us’n’s be gurt pagglewallopers, burr aye!’

  Then the entire thing developed into a race. The logboats fairly flew downstream, spray shooting up from their bows. The four friends were caught up in the exhilaration of it all, keeping up with the breakneck stroke, yelling out friendly jibes and exchanging banter with the Guosim.