The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison (20 page)

‘Now,’ the Green Mouse addressed all the Fennywolders, ‘be not sad in heart, for verily I know your grief. Let peace fill your troubled hearts! Forget the pain of your sorrows.’ He raised his paws and his voice resounded round the grotto: ‘Tonight is the Eve, when I am in full glory, so let my light dispel your shadows.’

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 crept 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.