The Secret of Zanzibar (22 page)

‘
It's Zanzibar
.'

The whisper spread through the crowd, and then they were calling to him, waving.

‘Zanzibar! Welcome home!'

‘Zanzibar, over here!'

Alistair watched as Zanzibar took a deep breath, then stepped into the throng. He tried to imagine what it must be like for Zanzibar, after so long in prison and in hiding, to step out on a crisp clear morning in the city of his birth into a crowd of thousands, all calling his name. Was he frightened? Elated? Alistair couldn't tell.

The rightful king of Gerander moved steadily around the square, his progress slow as mice pressed forward to shake his hand, or just reached out to touch his golden fur.

Alistair asked, ‘Do you think he'll be all right? What about the Queen's Guards?'

‘He's completely surrounded,' Alex said. ‘There's no way they could get close.'

‘I can't believe they're just doing nothing, though,' Alistair murmured. ‘They must know by now that Zanzibar is here.'

‘There's nothing they can do,' Alex said confidently. ‘Not against a crowd this size.'

But even as he said the words there was an uneasy stirring in the gathering.

‘What is it?' said Alistair, tensing. Then, as his nostrils started to twitch, ‘What's that smell?'

‘It's smoke!' Tom cried. ‘Look!'

Alistair looked, and saw a grey spiral curling into the air from the top of the cathedral. For a few moments he just watched, not quite comprehending what it was he was seeing, then he saw a lick of flame and his heart began to thud. It couldn't be …

‘It's the Queen's Guards!' someone shouted as flames danced along the roof line. ‘They've set fire to the cathedral!'

‘Fire!' cried another voice. ‘Fire!' Several more took up the cry and suddenly the crowd was on the move.

Alistair was shoved from all sides as mice tried to push their way back to the edge of the square, away from the burning building.

‘But how?' he gasped. ‘It's marble.'

‘The roof beams,' Tom shouted in his ear over the screams of the crowd. ‘They're wooden – and they must be hundreds of years old, and dry.' As if in response to his words, the air was rent by a creaking sound, then a fusillade of cracks, as the beams of the cathedral began to splinter.

‘Tibby, Mum and Dad …' Alistair tried to move forward, against the crowd, felt elbows, knees, jabbing at him, feet stepping on his. For every step forward he took
the crowd swept him back another two, so that as hard as he struggled he couldn't get any closer.

‘Alex …' His brother was being swept along by another current, and Alistair reached out a hand towards him only to see him sink beneath the crowd before resurfacing several metres away.

Alex opened his mouth to say something but Alistair couldn't make out what it was over the cacophony of voices all around him, by the creaking and groaning of timber. There was the sound of breaking glass as the windows succumbed to the intense heat, which was now enveloping the enormous building in a shimmery haze.

Alistair's eyes began to water as a gust of hot wind blasted his face as if from a furnace and then –
woomph!
– flames burst over the top of the cathedral. The cries from the crowd were panicky now as cinders rained down on them. Alistair himself cried out as a burning ember landed on his arm; he beat at it with his hand.

Alistair pushed against the crowd, desperate to reach the door, to find his family. The roar of the fire was loud in his ears as flames raced to cover every inch of the majestic old building. Heedless of the heat, of the smoke tearing at his throat, the cinders singeing his fur, he fought against the tide of fleeing mice, but his scream of ‘No!' was swallowed up by a thousand other screams as, with a mighty crash, the roof of the cathedral caved in.

‘Sis! Sis, are you here?'

Alice had arrived home to find the house empty. She had run all the way from the far side of town with a message for Maxine, but the grey mouse was gone. She probably had last-minute arrangements to make before the protest, Alice figured.

She had just helped herself to a couple of shortbreads from Maxine's biscuit barrel and collapsed onto the couch when the door was thrown open and her brother and Tom rushed in, yelling incoherently.

She sat up. ‘What is it?' she asked crossly.

To her surprise, Alex hugged her. ‘Thank goodness you're safe,' he said.

Alice felt a twinge of alarm; he had never willingly hugged her before.

‘What is it?' she repeated, her voice anxious now.

‘It's the cathedral!'

Her twinge of alarm became a throb. ‘What?' she demanded. ‘What about the cathedral?'

It was Tom who answered her. ‘It's on fire.'

‘A huge crowd had gathered in the square ahead of the protest and Zanzibar was walking among them and then suddenly the cathedral was burning,' Alex added breathlessly.

‘The Queen's Guards, probably,' Tom said.

‘Mum and Dad? Alistair? Tibby Rose?' She looked into her brother's face, her words more pleas than questions.

‘Alistair was out in the square, he should be okay. But the others …'

And then they were all rushing for the door. Alice felt her brother's hand close around her wrist as they burst into the square and she reached for Tom's hand, determined that they would not be separated.

As they drew close to the cathedral Alice saw a heavy pall of dark smoke hanging in the air. They were running against the crowd now, dodging the mice fleeing up the streets and alleys leading away from the cathedral.

So the Sourians would have their way after all, Alice thought bitterly. Gerandans had come together but the Queen's Guards had thought of a way to scatter them.

The three mice ran into the square and Alice saw that the red-tiled dome had collapsed inwards, smoke billowing from inside the smouldering marble ruin. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of flames and knew
the pews must be burning – the pews her family had been sleeping on, Alice thought in despair.

Groups of mice were rushing this way and that, surging like the waves of a stormy sea, so that Alice feared she would be sucked under. She squeezed Tom's hand tightly as Alex pulled a little ahead of her, still clutching her wrist. She stumbled along behind him as he charged through the crowd like a bull. ‘Alex, don't lose me,' she cried, feeling his grip strain.

Ahead of her she could see chains of mice stretching from a fountain near the edge of the square, passing buckets of water from hand to hand, with those in front dousing the flames. And then, as she was jostled from behind, she turned to see that, instead of fleeing, mice were flooding back into the square now, clutching buckets, pots and pans, bowls and jars – any vessel that could hold water. More and more chains formed with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of mice braving the heat and smoke to fight the fire. But it was too late, Alice thought mournfully. There was nothing left to save …

‘I can see Alistair and Tibby Rose with Mum and Dad,' Alex called above the cries and yells. ‘And Timmy and Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Beezer are with them too.'

Alice looked and saw her family huddled together in the centre of the square, gazing at the smoking hulk of the once-magnificent cathedral.

She was almost sobbing with relief as she joined her family and was pulled into their midst.

‘Where's Zanzibar?' she shouted.

Her mother turned a tearstained face towards her. ‘Daniels was still inside. Zanzibar went back in.'

Alice gasped. ‘He ran into the flames? But … but …' A wave of utter hopelessness washed over her, followed almost immediately by anger. How dare he? How dare he risk his life when they needed him? He was their king!

And then, from the charred doors at the top of the steps, a figure emerged: Zanzibar! His golden fur was smudged with soot and in his arms he carried the old mouse with the long grey beard. Someone ran up to help him settle Daniels on the step; it was Matron, from the orphanage, Alice realised.

When Zanzibar stood upright again, there was a cry and then another and another, merging into a body of sound, rising through the crowd. ‘Long live King Zanzibar! Long live King Zanzibar!'

The mice in the square had paused in their flight to cheer the appearance of their king.

Zanzibar stood very still on the blackened steps of the smouldering building as the chant washed over him. For several long minutes he did nothing. Then he stepped forward and raised his hands, as if in acknowledgment of the chanting, but also to quell it.

‘My fellow Gerandans,' he said, and Alice was almost sure his voice broke on the words. ‘Friends,' he cried, more surely. ‘This is the day.'

The chant ceased abruptly and the crowd strained forward to catch his words.

‘It is said that the rare and beautiful phoenix rises from ashes, and from the ruins of our glorious cathedral something equally wondrous and precious will rise: today marks the birth of our freedom.

‘But even as we celebrate, for surely we must – this is our day! – even as we celebrate we must never forget those who have been lost.'

Alice bowed her head as she touched her wrist. The traces of Solomon's blood were long gone, and yet they would always be there.

‘This is a day for those who have been lost, and those who are yet to come. A day for the future generations, a day on which we declare that our children's children will be born free.

‘Friends, through all my years of exile, through my years in prison and my years in hiding, I have thought about the Gerander I would like to see. My family have ruled for many generations, but the time for inherited leadership is over. We are all standing together today as equals, and as equals we must decide on our future. I will not be king.'

There was a sudden intake of breath, a collective gasp, and then a shocked silence.

‘Together we must elect a leader,' said Zanzibar. ‘We will
all
have a say.'

‘Zanzibar for president!' someone called.

‘No.' Zanzibar shook his head. ‘Not me. I will serve Gerander with all my heart, but after today, after we have turned back Queen Eugenia, after we have seen the Sourians leave our city forever, I will not lead.' And he stepped back to signal that his speech had ended.

The mice around them began to murmur, unsure whether to applaud.

‘Wow!' Tom exclaimed. ‘That was an awesome speech.' He nudged Alex. ‘If Zanzibar has given up the throne, I guess that means you won't be king after all. What did you think, Alice?'

‘It was wonderful,' she said absently. She was recalling Zanzibar's words about those who had been lost. What would Solomon Honker have thought? she wondered. He, like all FIG members, had been fighting to restore Zanzibar to the throne, and now Zanzibar was saying he didn't want it. Then she thought, no, it hadn't been about Zanzibar at all. It had been about freeing Gerander. And what Zanzibar was doing was part of that.

As the murmurs reached a crescendo, a deep voice cried, ‘Three cheers for Zanzibar!'

This is our day
, Zanzibar had said, and Alice felt the truth of those words course through her, felt a sense of determination well inside her. Yes! They would face down Queen Eugenia and they would defeat her!

Alice raised her voice with the others. ‘Hooray!'

A day for the future generations …

‘Hooray!'

But even as we celebrate, we must never forget those who have been lost …

As Alice joined the crowd in the third, and loudest, ‘HOORAY!' she rubbed her wrist once again. She would never forget.

‘HOORAY!'

Alistair cheered himself hoarse.

He could hardly believe that the golden figure standing on the steps of the cathedral was his father. He seemed … mythical, somehow. Not quite real.

He felt someone lean on his shoulder and looked up into the face of his uncle. ‘Timmy, did you know Zanzibar was going to do that?'

‘Did I know he was going to renounce the throne?' Timmy shook his head. ‘No. But I'm not surprised either. Z was never comfortable with the idea of being destined to rule by the privilege of birth. Merely being born into a royal family doesn't make you wise or just – look at Queen Eugenia. That's why the work Solomon was doing with the Figleafers was so important. They'll act as a transitional government, a temporary government, until elections are held.'

Alistair nodded. After everything he had seen of Queen Eugenia's rule, he thought Zanzibar had done the right thing.

‘Do you think Queen Eugenia will ever understand that she doesn't have the right to rule Gerander?' It was Tibby Rose, who was standing on Timmy's other side.

‘Whether she will understand might well be beside the point,' Timmy suggested. ‘She may not have a choice. I've had word from my friends in Souris – since your pamphlet came out, there have been Justice for Gerander rallies all over the country. In some towns they tried to stop the Queen's procession from passing, so that she couldn't enter Gerander. Her grip on power is weakening by the day.'

‘You said “tried to stop”,' Alistair noted. ‘So she is on her way then?'

‘Oh yes,' said Timmy. ‘She'll be here any time now.'

As if on cue, a cry rang out: ‘Queen Eugenia is at the north gate.'

There was a bristling in the crowd, like a breeze blowing through a field of wheat. And then, although there was a sea of mice as far as the eye could see, the sea parted to allow Zanzibar through.

As the crowd surged in his wake, up the grand boulevard that led to the north gate, Timmy the Winns said, ‘Come with me, you two.' He crouched for a moment, so Tibby Rose could climb onto his shoulders. ‘Let's go see the fun.'

Fun … Alistair shivered as he set off after Timmy and Tibby Rose. He pictured Queen Eugenia, cold and cruel and ruthless. He imagined ranks of red-coated guards, spears at the ready. He looked around at the Gerandans hurrying up the boulevard behind the distinctive figure of Zanzibar. They had no weapons with which to defend themselves. If their plan of peaceful protest didn't work … He closed his eyes as a wave of fear washed over him, accompanied by a vision of streets awash with blood.

He wished he could share Timmy's optimism, but he was afraid. So afraid …

He felt a warm arm brush his.

‘Don't be frightened, Alistair,' Emmeline said.

He looked into her face, at the small smile playing on her lips.

‘Mum,' he said, then stopped, feeling the warmth of her smile but conscious, too, of a sense of loss. ‘I mean … Emmeline.'

‘Oh, Alistair,' she said. ‘I may not have given birth to you, but you will always be my son here.' She touched her heart. ‘And we share another bond, don't we?' She reached out to tug at his scarf and Alistair felt a wave of pleasure rush through him. She was right; they would always share a bond. That hadn't changed.

‘As soon as Z placed you in my arms, tiny as you were, I knew …' Emmeline continued. ‘I knew you were the one who came after me: the one who could read the signs.
Though I think you'll have to share this scarf with Tibby now, won't you?'

Alistair nodded.

‘And all the secrets, they were worth it, weren't they? For this. For Gerander.' She gestured to the crowd. ‘This is our day. And you helped to make it happen.'

Their footsteps had been slowing as they talked, as the crowd ahead of them slowed, until at last they stopped, unable to go any further. Alistair thought he would scream with frustration. They were so far from the front of the crowd that they couldn't even see the gate. To think, after everything he had been through, that he wouldn't even witness the confrontation between Zanzibar and Queen Eugenia. But then, looking at the mice around him, young and old, ginger and brown and black and white and grey and every shade in between, all straining forward eagerly, he realised that each of them had been through something – that each of them was part of this confrontation, part of the struggle. But just as he had resigned himself to waiting patiently for news to filter through the crowd, he heard Emmeline's soft voice say, ‘Please, will you let us pass? I wish to stand by my brother.'

‘Why, it's Emmeline,' said a caramel-coloured mouse. ‘Let her through.'

‘And Timmy, too,' came another voice.

‘It's Zanzibar's family. Everyone stand aside.'

And so, after much jostling, they were allowed to pass: Emmeline and Rebus, followed by Timmy, with
Tibby Rose on his shoulder and Alistair at his side, then Alice, Alex and Tom, with Ebenezer and Beezer bringing up the rear.

As they made their way along the boulevard, thanking the mice who stood aside for them – many from the crowd calling out greetings to Alice and Alex – Alistair caught glimpses of red coats outside the castellated stone walls of the city. But the gate itself, he saw when they reached it at last, was impassable, for Gerandans were standing shoulder to shoulder, their arms linked, preventing the Queen's procession from entering. In front of them stood Zanzibar.

Queen Eugenia, majestic in a heavy purple velvet cloak edged with silver, was borne aloft on a shield. To her left and right and stretching away in columns behind her, red-coated soldiers were massed, the tips of their spears glinting. Her old adviser, Timon, stood beside her, his face grave.

The Queen glared down at Zanzibar, standing below her on the ground, surrounded only by ordinary mice. The look she gave him was full of contempt and loathing.

‘Let me pass,' she ordered. ‘I am here to claim my throne.'

‘No,' said Zanzibar, his voice strong and loud. ‘Gerander chooses not to recognise your claim.'

‘It is not a question of choice!' the Queen snapped. ‘You will do as I say, or –' and here she raised her voice so that it carried to the crowd gathered on the boulevard ‘– or you will suffer the consequences!'

She signalled to her soldiers, who stamped their spears on the ground menacingly.

One guard took a step towards Zanzibar and raised his spear so that it was level with the golden mouse's chest.

But Zanzibar stood his ground.

‘No,' he said. ‘You will not pass. Ten thousand Gerandans at my back say you will not pass. Kill me if you must, but it will make no difference. Another will take my place.'

‘Your son,' she seethed, and Alistair trembled.

‘Not my son,' Zanzibar said. ‘Nor my daughter. I have renounced the throne. The heirs of Cornolius are no more.'

The Queen raged, ‘You don't understand! We should be as one, Greater Gerander joined as a single nation once more, under one ruler.'

‘No,
you
don't understand,' Zanzibar retorted. ‘We are not yours to rule.'

‘I will have my guards kill you!' she threatened again. ‘You and every last Gerandan.'

The guard whose spear was aimed at Zanzibar's chest took a step forward so that the sharp tip was touching the golden fur.

If Queen Eugenia had intended to frighten Zanzibar, it didn't work. ‘There are too many of us,' he repeated calmly. ‘And I think you might find that many of your guards will refuse to obey such a brutal and barbaric order.' He stared at the guard with the spear until, shame-faced, the guard let the spear drop.

Zanzibar turned his gaze back to the Queen. ‘Isn't it true that the tide is now turning in Souris, too? That Sourians regret the harsh and unlawful treatment of Gerandans that has been going on in their name?'

The rage in the Queen's eyes faltered briefly, and Alistair suddenly understood that she knew. She knew that she was losing the support of her subjects; that they were losing their fear of her. She knew that Shetlock was now in alliance with Gerander against her. She knew that it was over …

They had to play on that weakness, to expose it – but how? Suddenly, Alistair remembered the last time he had seen her falter.

‘Timmy, the song,' Alistair said. ‘Sing the song.'

The midnight blue mouse flashed him a quick look of approval, then raised his voice.

 

‘From rock to ridge to tunnel to tree …'

 

Alistair and Tibby joined in, Alistair feeling his chest swell as he put every ounce of breath into the words in his desire to make them heard.

 

‘The songs are there for you to see …'

 

The mice who were pressed close around them sang too as a tune once familiar, now nearly forgotten, tugged at their memories.

The chorus swelled through the streets and squares, thousands of voices rising into the air. It seemed to Alistair that the soldiers were bending beneath the waves of sound.

 

‘Wherever the Winns takes me, that's where I'll be,
For me and the Winns will always flow free.'

 

The Queen blocked her ears. ‘Stop it!' she shouted, but though Alistair could see her lips move, the words were drowned out by the power of the voices raised against her. ‘Stop it!' she howled.

Alistair saw Timon put a hand on the Queen's slipper and beckon; she bent to listen, her brow creased, as he spoke to her. Then she sank to her knees on the shield, her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

Timon rested a hand on her shoulder briefly, then moved towards Zanzibar, his arms held out in a gesture of peace.

‘What did you say to her?' Zanzibar asked curiously.

The old mouse looked sad as he said, ‘I told her this was not what her grandfather would have wished. The Queen's father, King Erandus, was greedy and power-hungry, and he brought up his daughter to be the same. But Erandus's father, Queen Eugenia's grandfather, was
not like his son. He was a kind and generous ruler, and a loving grandfather. I begged her to honour his memory by behaving in a manner of which he would be proud.'

He took a step backwards and said loudly, so that his voice carried in the wind and in the voices of those who would repeat his words so that they spread through the city streets, ‘I hereby give the order for the Sourian army to withdraw from Gerander. The Queen has agreed.'