The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison (17 page)

‘Tach!’ she snorted. ‘Akkikuyu not believe in magic. Power of herb yes, and rule of fate yes, but not magic. Tricks and tomfool nonsense.’

The face on her ear screwed itself up with impatience. ‘Do you want a demonstration? Very well. I shall show you what can be done and what powers can be yours.’

‘What you do?’ inquired the fortune-teller expectantly. ‘Look down there!’ said Nicodemus. ‘At the bottom of the ditch!’

There, lying on the stones where Mr Nettle had thrown it were the remains of Audrey’s corn dolly.

‘Go down there,’ instructed Nicodemus. The fortune-teller did as she was bid and made her way down the side of the ditch, hanging on to the tufts of coarse grass which grew up its steep banks.

The dolly was in four pieces, testaments to Mr Nettle’s passion. The head and arms had been tom from the dress section.

Madame Akkikuyu tutted to see the damage. She had heard of Audrey’s corn dolly from Young Whortle.

‘Straw lady bust,’ she said aloud.

‘Then join it together, Akkikuyu,’ said Nicodemus craftily. ‘Put back the head and fix in the arms.’

‘No,’ said the rat. Straw ripped. She not go back together now.’

‘Then put the pieces where they belong and I shall do the rest,’ beamed the face.

Madame Akkikuyu arranged the arms and head around the body in their correct positions and stepped aside.

‘Now,’ said Nicodemus, ‘with the bone from your hair draw a triangle around it. Good, now throw open your arms to the night and repeat after me only make sure you do it exactly.’

They began the invocation to the unseen spirits of the world.

‘Come Brud. By slaughterous cold and searing ice. I call thee. Come out of the shadows, awake from your empty tomb and walk amongst us. I entreat thee, make whole again your effigy.’

Madame Akkikuyu repeated all the words and watched the corn dolly in fascinated silence.,

All around them the grasses and leaves began to stir and rustle, beating against each other like applause. Inside the triangle the moss that grew over the stones writhed like clusters of angry maggots and burst open new shoots like green fireworks. Everything living within that area grew and bloomed a thousand times faster than normal. Then, as Madame Akkikuyu stared in disbelief, the severed stems of the corn dolly’s grain arms twisted and coiled into the body section. The plaited head put out a tentative wiry tendril like a bather testing the water then rooted itself on to the shoulders.

‘Aha,’ squealed Madame Akkikuyu, ‘dummy repaired.’

‘Quite,’ said the tattoo matter of factly. ‘Are you convinced now, Akkikuyu?’

The rat nodded quickly, ‘Oh yes Nicodemus my friend – you real, Akkikuyu not bonkers.’ She hugged herself as she gazed at the completed figure of straw.

Nicodemus continued. ‘Would you like to see more?’

‘More?’ repeated the rat. ‘How so?’

‘This has been a mere child’s trick, Akkikuyu, compared with what you could achieve under my learned guidance.’

‘Tell me more,’ said the fortune-teller, eager to see other wonders. ‘Akkikuyu want to see more.’

‘Very well,’ the voice muttered softly, ‘step nearer to the straw maiden. Enough – do not touch the triangle. Now we need blood.’

Madame Akkikuyu backed away. She did not like the sound of that. ‘Blood?’ she queried cautiously. ‘Why for you want blood and where from?’

‘To give the doll life,’ announced Nicodemus. ‘Blood’ is a symbol of that. Just three drops are needed. I daresay you could nick your thumb and squeeze some out.’

‘Give doll life!’ exclaimed the rat wondrously. ‘You can do such? You are very strong in magicks, field spirit. Quickly show Akkikuyu.’

She took out her small knife and made a tiny cut in her thumb.

‘The blood must fall on the straw,’ Nicodemus told her, as three crimson drops were forced out on to the corn dress.

‘Now stand back,’ commanded the voice.

Madame Akkikuyu did so and felt a thrill of fear tingle its way along her spine and down to the tip of her tail.

‘Hear me, oh Brud!’ called out Nicodemus. ‘Give this image life – let sap be as the blood on the straw.

Pour breath into its empty breast and let stems be as sinew.’

A deathly silence descended over the whole of Fennywolde. The fieldmice shifted uncomfortably in their soft nests as a shadow passed over the sky. Birds shrank into their feathers as they roosted in the tops of the elms and feared the worst. A hedgehog in his den of old, dry leaves felt the charged atmosphere and curled himself into a tight ball of spikes. Down came the shadow, thundering from the empty night on the back of the wind. The tree tops swayed and the leaves whipped round. The grass in the meadow parted as the force fell upon it and travelled wildly through, flattening and battering everything in its path. It rushed towards the ditch and went howling down into it.

Madame Akkikuyu stood her ground as the unseen fury tore at her hair and pulled her shawl till it choked her.

And then all was still.

The fortune-teller lowered the claws she had raised against the ravaging gale and looked down at the dolly.

‘Command it,’ said Nicodemus.

‘I . . . I?’ she stammered.

‘Who else? It will obey none but you.’

Madame Akkikuyu swept back the hair which had blown over her face and peered again at the corn dolly. ‘Up,’ she ordered meekly.’

One of the grain arms gave a sudden twitch and the rat drew her breath sharply.

‘Up!’ she said again with more force.

The straw figure flipped itself over, rustling and crackling. It leant on its arm and jolted itself up until it stood before her.

The fortune-teller took some steps around the dolly and waved her arms over it just in case someone was tricking her with cotton threads.

But no, the corn dolly was alive!

‘Instruct it to bow before you,’ suggested Nicodemus.

‘Bow,’ said the rat.

With a snapping and splintering the corn dolly bent over and bowed.

‘Hee hee,’ cackled Madame Akkikuyu joyfully jumping up and down, her tail waving around like an angry snake. ‘It moves, it moves,’ she called. ‘And only for Akkikuyu, for she alone. See how it dances.’

She pointed to the figure and jerkily it moved from the confines of the triangle, making odd jarring movements. Its dress swept over the stone floor like the twigs of a broom as it pranced in a peculiar waltz. The arms quivered in mockery of life and the loop head twisted from time to time as though acknowledging an invisible partner. It was a grotesque puppet and Madame Akkikuyu was its master.

The corn dolly tottered this way and that, buckling occasionally in a spasm that might have been a curtsey and shaking its dress with a dry papery sound. Madame Akkikuyu capered around with it, beckoning and following, teasing and pushing until finally she panted ‘Stop!” and the straw dancer became motionless.

‘So,’ began Nicodemus in a pleased tone, ‘you must choose, will you help me?’

‘Yes, yes,’ she crowed gladly.

‘Excellent Akkikuyu. We must prepare for the spell which will release me from this endless darkness where I am imprisoned.’

She was eager to learn more and asked, ‘What do we need Nico? I fetch, I get.’

‘Hah!’ laughed the tattoo. ‘First I must teach you, and there are many ingredients to find – some will not be easy, others will. There is a ritual involved in the breaking of my bonds and everything must be perfect.’

‘Trust me, oh spirit. Akkikuyu no fluff.’ As she said it she thought her own voice came to her out of the past.

‘Come then, let us talk away from this ditch. Only the hours of night are afforded to me. That is the only time I may speak with you Akkikuyu, so spend your days wisely and make no exertion that may tire you out ere night falls.’

She agreed and promised to rest for most of the daytime from then on. As she climbed up the bank the fortune-teller glanced back at the corn dolly and grinned as she thought of the powers that would soon be hers. What would her mousey friend have to say to this, she wondered.

It was another baking hot day. Audrey awoke to a blazing blue sky empty of cloud. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and peeped out of the nest.

The Hall of Corn was glowing with light. The sun shone down on the stems and those stout wives who had insisted on taking their sheets were shaking them vigorously outside the nests, waving them like dazzling flags of surrender.

Old Todmore passed below, swaggering on his bowed legs and nibbling a straw. He took up his usual position in the Hall and watched the world hurry by.

‘Bless the Green for morns like this,’ he sighed, stroking his whiskers.

Tired sentries came into the Hall blinking and yawning whilst those newly awake ran to take their places.’

‘Where’s our Hodge?’ a small mouse woman asked Figgy.

‘Haven’t seen him,’ was the sleepy reply.

‘Well, I’m not takin’ his breakfast to him. Sentry, sentry – that’s all that boy thinks about.’

Arthur poked his head out of his nest. He was covered in bits of grass and moss. ‘Mornin’ Sis!’ he said brightly. ‘Breakfast’s ready – didn’t you hear Mrs Scuttle calling?’

‘No,’ replied Audrey, ‘but I’ll be down in a minute.’ She retreated back into her nest, but after breathing the fresh air of the outside world the atmosphere in her bedroom seemed stifling. She decided that nests were lovely places to spend a night but in the daytime they were like ovens.

As soon as she had dressed and brushed away some stray bits of straw she clambered out and descended the ladder Mr Scuttle had made for her.

On the ground below, Gladwin Scuttle had spread a clean cloth and laid out the breakfast things. Arthur was well into his third helping when Audrey arrived.

‘Mornin’ missy,’ greeted Elijah. ‘And how did you sleep last night?’

‘Very well, Mr Scuttle, thank you.’

Mrs Scuttle patted the cloth by her side and said, ‘You sit down here, dear, and tell me what you think you’ll be doing today.’

‘I think I’d better find Madame Akkikuyu,’ Audrey answered glumly. ‘I was a bit nasty to her last night.’

‘Hey Sis,’ Arthur butted in, ‘I’m going to be a sentry today. Twit’s going to present me to Mr Woodruffe and they do a little ceremony or something,’ he added with his mouth full.

‘That’s right,’ agreed Elijah, ‘you’ll be made to swear an oath of allegiance to Fennywolde for the rest of your days.’

‘But Arthur,’ Audrey pointed out, ‘you can’t promise that. What about Mother? You said you’d go back.’

Arthur looked ashamed. ‘You’re right. Do you know, I hadn’t thought about home since I’ve been here – aren’t I awful?’

‘Never you mind,’ consoled Elijah. ‘I’ll pop an’ have a word or three with Mr Woodruffe – we’ll see if’n we can’t bend the rules a tiny bit.’ He got to his feet and set off in the direction of the throne.

The doors of the Hall opened and in came Madame Akkikuyu. She looked tired and she trudged along with heavy limbs. The families of fieldmice waved and nodded to her as though she were a dear old friend and Mr Nep bowed politely as she walked by.

‘Here comes trouble,’ observed Arthur dryly.

‘Good morning, Madame Akkikuyu,’ called Audrey, trying to be as nice as possible. ‘Did you sleep well – how’s your ear today?’

The fortune-teller gave her a weary glance and mumbled, ‘Akkikuyu not sleep – she busy all night finding root and herb for mouseling potions.’ She showed them her claws, which were caked in soil and dirt. ‘Ear better,’ she added grudgingly.

‘Sit down and have something to eat Madame er . . .’ offered Gladwin kindly.

Madame Akkikuyu grabbed a whole loaf and shook her head. ‘Akkikuyu not sit – she off to sleep.’

‘Oh,’ said Mrs Scuttle. ‘Well, when my Elijah gets back I’m sure he’ll make you a nest of your own.’

‘No,’ the rat declined sharply. ‘Akkikuyu no like mousey house. She go find place to kip.’

‘Akkikuyu,’ said Audrey, ‘if you like we can go for a walk or something later.’

The rat regarded Audrey for a moment and shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ she replied and stalked away, tearing the bread into great chunks and gulping them down as she went.

‘Oh dear,’ said Gladwin. ‘She ain’t happy with us mouselets,’ remarked Twit lightly.

‘This is all my fault,’ admitted Audrey. ‘I’m not turning out to be a very good companion for her, am I?’

Arthur munched thoughtfully on a crust. ‘You know,’ he began after a while, ‘Madame Akkikuyu is a lot more independent than she was when we set off – haven’t you noticed? I don’t think she needs you any more Audrey. I do believe she’s settled in here better than we have.’

‘I ought to be relieved,’ sighed his sister. ‘It’s funny though – I feel just the opposite, as if I’ve betrayed her.’

‘Don’t be soft,’ Arthur told her. ‘You came all this way, didn’t you?’

‘Well, let her down then,’ argued Audrey. ‘I haven’t been much of a friend to her have I? She thought we were best friends – I think I failed her in that.’

‘Pah!’ declared Mrs Scuttle. ‘Rats and mice being friends! I never heard of such a thing!’ They waited for Audrey to finish nibbling her breakfast, then Elijah came puffing back.

‘It’s all fixed and sorted,’ he informed Arthur. ‘We put our heads together such as they are an’ we come up with the answer.’