Duncton Found

by William Horwood

  If there was to be punishment it had best be against lax moles of the Word, for that would intimidate other moles of the Word and put new zeal into them while lulling the followers of the Stone into false security.

  Nevertheless, Lucerne decided to yield to the demands of the new sideem when they reached Ashbourne, which lay conveniently close to Beechenhill and was to be the place where Mallice left him for her investigation into that system. Winster, the elderly eldrene of Ashbourne, had been proven lax along with some of her guardmoles and they were snouted after a formal hearing by the Keepers.

  It had been the first snouting in public Drule had done, and it gave him pleasure. All the new sideem attended, their faces bearing that look of unbearable smugness that righteous moles who suffer from an excess of zeal have when they see others justly punished. Slighe made a fool of himself – not when the guardmoles screamed but when the eldrene was snouted. Females, in pleasure or in pain, he could not bear. Their blood sickened him.

  Soon after they left Ashbourne Lucerne sensed that another swift trial and punishment would consolidate his reputation for just ruthlessness that the recent events in Whern followed by the snoutings in Ashbourne had begun to make. The over-fed Fennybor, sideem of Belper, was a suitable victim none would miss and he was force-marched by Drule for three days with the new sideem until he was hung up to die on the wire of a fence that others might see that the Word was harsh on those that abused its trust. Terce spoke the address at Fennybor’s death and suggested it was allmole’s duty to report those that were slack in their prayers and observations, or spoke ill of the Word.

  A pall of suspicion and prayer fell on the new sideem after this, and everymole was careful to observe the Word to every last scrivening of its rituals. Not a worm was eaten but that a grace was said over it first; not a new sideem went to sleep but that he spoke the grace of the protection of the Word, and made sure that others knew it; and made even surer that if another lapsed then it was reported.

  In such ways did Lucerne begin to assert the Word’s might upon all about him, choosing moles to punish none would miss and avoiding, as yet, too much aggression against the Stone.

  The weather was wet and unpleasant for much of September, and the progress, though steady, was slow. But the crusade crossed the southern Peak and into the bland lowland beyond, and there Lucerne followed his instinct and veered south-westerly. It was sometime then that one of several sideem sent out earlier than the main party from Whern located him and was able to report the existence of the largely deserted system of Cannock.

  The Cannock system lies to the south of that wild and wormless place that gave it its name, Cannock Chase. The only moles that live there are youngsters from adjacent systems finding their strength, or outcasts no system wants. Or, as in Lucerne’s day, followers of the Stone.

  It was here, while making a patrol of the Chase, that guardmoles were later to pick up those three followers Lucerne was to spend time interviewing. But that was yet to come, for when he first arrived he had no time for indulgences, and wanted only to ensure that he had made the right choice and finally he felt he had.

  Cannock is a place quite wormful enough for a winter stay, and perfectly suited to Lucerne’s purpose. It lies as near to the centre of moledom as a mole could wish, if his desire is to set in motion an extended campaign against the Stone which could most easily reach its insinuating and destructive talons to even the most secret lost places of moledom where faith in the Stone might still lurk.

  Apart from its location, Cannock had little to commend it. The tunnels were intrinsically dull and of no interest compared to the cold and subtle splendours of Whern, but Lucerne was pragmatic enough, too, to see the advantage in living in a place where sideem would not wish to be for long: such places test moles, and bring out the best and expose the weakest; such places do not invite others to take them over or to oust those who control them. What was more it had no Stone, nor evidence of any nearby, and that was to the good. Sideem did not like Stones and Lucerne was glad to pander to their fear, though he himself wished he had time to venture further south and see the great Stones of the Ancient Systems there of which he had heard so much. That perverse pleasure was still to come.

  What also attracted him to Cannock was its relative proximity to Beechenhill. He sensed, for reasons he could not articulate, that this was a system of importance in the struggle for the Word, and its destruction would do much to hasten the decline of the Stone. He was already impatient for the report of it that Mallice would bring, and in any case disliked it when she was far from him. But he knew well that her power must not rest on his favour alone and she must win respect with an important task of which she made a success.

  Nor was Cannock so far south that Clowder need be long delayed once he had finished matters satisfactorily in Ribblesdale. Indeed, the moment Cannock had been chosen as a base, Lucerne had commanded Slighe to send out messengers to key route points so that returning moles knew where to come and the swiftest ways were discovered and made known.

  Soon reports started to come in from the moles Lucerne had sent out from Whern, and they tended to confirm the view that rumours of the Stone Mole’s coming had aroused followers to meetings at Stones up and down moledom, and to other blatant affirmations of their faith. Yet not one single sideem had yet been able to report a specific sighting of this supposed mole, which supported Terce’s belief that the rumour was mere projection of a need followers had for a leader.

  In the meantime the news of the Siabod and Welsh moles was more disturbing. Soon after his establishment at Cannock Lucerne had, at last, an eye-witness account of the routing of the guardmoles from the tunnels of high Siabod from a senior guardmole sent by Ginnell himself.

  Lucerne heard how the guardmoles had yielded to an extended campaign of Siabod attack in March and, encouraged by that success the revolt had spread through the interior of Wales and even spilled over its borderland with orthodox moledom. Since August and September things had gone quiet, and Ginnell had been planning to come once he was satisfied that the western front was in capable paws.

  It was from this same source that Lucerne first heard the name Caradoc, the “mad” mole whose base was the high and desolate stronghold of Caer Caradoc, from which he got his name.

  “Nomole that I know has ever even seen him, though other of the rebel leaders are known to us – Troedfach of Tyn-y-Bedw Ginnell has seen, and Alder was, in times gone by, a guardmole himself.”

  “I had not been informed of that,” said Lucerne with a frown. “Siabod led by a former guardmole? This is a mole I would like to submit to the Word’s punishment and I have no doubt that in time he shall be.”

  “But Siabod is a terrible place, Master, barely worth the trouble of holding it, which is why Ginnell was willing to retreat east....”

  Had Ginnell’s aide known Lucerne better he would not have been so tactless as to talk of “retreat’, for Lucerne impatiently cut him short and said, “The Word does not care if the paws freeze off mole in Siabod – it is not the place that matters but what it represents. Must I be surrounded by moles who do not understand this?”

  He fell into a terrifying silence which the aide had the good sense not to break. Eventually it was Terce who diplomatically moved the subject on: “Alder, Troedfach... give us other names, mole, more names. Slighe, scriven them down, scriven them!”

  The aide saw a chance of recovering his position and was grateful to Terce for providing it.

  “There’s a clever young mole called Gareg in the south, and another, Gaelri, we know about. There’s Caradoc, of course... prisoners we’ve taken swear by his name and tell us he spreads the belief the Stone Mole will visit him personally one day.”

  “Always the Stone Mole!” said Lucerne coldly. “Always! These prisoners of yours, do they give much away?”

  “Any prisoner will say anything, Master, if he’s asked the right way. But... no. Torture’s not the way to get them to do anything bu
t lie, or curse you by the Stone. And Ginnell’s not one for such means.”

  “Like Wrekin before him,” said Terce.

  “I wonder if Drule might know how to make such moles talk,” said Lucerne with a sparse smile. “When will Ginnell be here?”

  “A week or two, Master. He is most anxious to come.”

  “Dismissed,” said Lucerne.

  “Always the Stone Mole!” exclaimed Lucerne again, when the aide left them. “I tell you this, Terce, the first mole who brings me positive evidence that this mole exists, and is alive, will find gratitude and favour from me.”

  Slighe said, “Is that a decree, Master?”

  “A decree? What...? Oh, the Stone Mole? Yes. Yes, make it so. Tell all those sideem that leave Cannock for task work now to say that the Master Lucerne will show the Word’s gratitude to he or she who brings credible report of this Stone Mole.”

  “I shall.”

  A matter that also recurred to exasperate Lucerne at this difficult time of news-gathering and inactivity was the question of the status of Wyre at Buckland. That he was still alive was not in doubt – indeed, initial reports from that system and systems nearby were good and suggested that the Word and its representatives were generally feared. Lucerne had been relieved to learn that Wyre, acting on his own authority, had ordered a strengthening of guardmole vigilance, and quelled further revolt with brutal and decisive measures against well-chosen systems.

  But while that was all well and good, Wyre himself – who had originally been chosen by Rune to replace Henbane when she returned victorious from her southern campaign – seemed to have become a reclusive mole. No report gave an account of meeting him; all was at second paw by moles who had heard this or seen that but knew nothing definite of Wyre himself.

  The problem seemed to be that he had been ill with scalpskin, and perhaps he still was.

  “We need some thing more than hearsay, Terce... if he needs to be replaced then the sooner the better. If he is avoiding contact because his ailments are too serious then that itself is disloyalty and disobedience, and must be punished.”

  “At least two sideem have sent reports from Buckland but because they were unsatisfactory another has been despatched by Slighe.”

  “It may be we shall need an example in the south,” said Lucerne ominously. “A striking example and one nomole shall forget. Wyre must be old now.”

  “Four longest nights,” said Terce. “Almost my age.”

  “Old indeed, Senior Keeper. Old enough to dispense with, don’t you think?”

  “It may be so,” said Terce, his face a study in inscrutability.

  “Well, we must know soon. See to it. Nomole is indispensable; none irreplaceable.”

  “No, Master,” agreed Terce.

  “Nor can just enquiries of the Word simply be ignored by moles because it suits their circumstances. Such attitudes weaken us and by this fact alone are blasphemy against the Word...” Lucerne’s voice rose, his body hunched and he looked dangerous and angry as he did when all was not just so and he was therefore not absolutely in control.

  “It is not what moles do but what they think and feel we must be wary of and seek to change. This we must make our sideem understand, Terce, or else all we do in the field shall be undone in moles’ minds. That aide of Ginnell’s, for example, did not understand that it is not Siabod that is dangerous but the fact of it. It is not Beechenhill I shall destroy but the spirit of rebellion and insubordination which its continuing existence represents. The crusade we shall fight shall seem to be about talons and strength but in reality it shall be about concepts, and the winning of moles’ minds. Do you understand me, Terce? Will they?”

  “I understand you better, Master, every day. If I may say this with no disrespect to your grandfather, the Word speaks more clearly through you today than it once did through the Master Rune.”

  Lucerne smiled with pleasure to hear this but then he protested as if for modesty’s sake and said, “But without his work, and the work he did through my mother Henbane, our task would be hard today. Your task is to help me be sure that the new sideem understand our intentions. Clowder, Mallice, Slighe and the others will win us physical power under my leadership, but spiritual ascendancy is where, finally, the true task will lie. When allmole knows the power of the Word, and believes it, and feels love for it, only then shall the Stone finally die. This is no easy thing, but am I not right to think that it is the final object of the Twelfth Cleave in which you trained us, and will be its greatest triumph?”

  “You are right, Master,” whispered Terce soothingly.

  At times like this Lucerne’s manner became so intense and his eyes so fierce that he trucked no argument or obstruction, and it would have been a brave mole who confronted him. Terce knew well his Master, and his frustrations. He noted, too, the positive reference to Henbane and observed now, as he had in the moleyears since Henbane’s flight from Lucerne’s life, that when Lucerne was at his most serious and intense he invariably mentioned his mother in this way, as if forgetting the contempt and hatred for her which he claimed to feel, and often expressed, and instead revealing the ambiguity of his attitude towards her.

  “The Word always has a solution,” said Lucerne finally, “and through me it shall be found. That is my task. Now tell me, Terce, what do you know of the Rolls of the Systems at Uffington?” He asked this last question without pause, but Terce knew from his calmer expression that Lucerne had passed the peak of his anger and frustration and was himself once more. In all his experience with Rune, with Henbane, with other Keepers, Terce had never met a mole more capable of clearing his mind and heart of things that a moment before had seemed to overwhelm him, and move on positively to focus on something else.

  “The Rolls?” repeated Terce, collecting his thoughts and smiling with sudden pleasure to be servant of such a Master.

  “Slighe mentioned them to me,” said Lucerne impatiently.

  “Our understanding is that in Uffington’s heyday it was every scribemole’s task to go forth into moledom and bring back a report on the systems he visited. These reports came to constitute the great Rolls of the Systems, kept in the libraries of the Holy Burrows. Perhaps unwisely, the library was destroyed by the Mistress Henbane’s henchmoles.”

  “Very unwisely I would say. What were the Rolls used for?”

  Terce looked surprised.

  “Control, of course, though the scribemoles would not have called it such. Their existence made it possible for successive generations of scribemoles to know the history and disposition of each system – what mattered to it, what moles had been important to it and so forth – and so be able to judge how best to act when problems arose.”

  “Information we might have used,” said Lucerne acidly. “Should we not now do the same?”

  “In a manner we do. The reports of the sideem are filed and stretch back over the centuries, though until Rune’s day they were but modest things and irregularly kept.”

  “If you mean some of the scrivenings I’ve seen in Whern they were useless, Terce. We can do better, and if we are to consolidate the power that we have and maintain it well we must do better. We cannot rule without knowledge. We shall make a Scrivening of the Systems to match any Rolls ever made. It will inspire travelling sideem to know that their reports are part of something that will last forever.”

  “Where shall it be kept?”

  “Whern. Only in Whern. The mole – the Master – who controls such a scrivening shall hold great power for the Word. It shall give idle sideem something to do, and never-ending tasks on which to employ sideem with whom we are displeased. It shall be most useful to us.”

  Terce nodded. “Slighe and myself will arrange it,” he said.

  In such ways, through the autumn years of September and early October, was Lucerne’s strategy for the crusade developed and its continuing success ensured. Doing everything with patience and order, and so far with only sufficient violence to consolidate his
power among the sideem, Lucerne succeeded in gaining in strength even as he learned about moledom.

  By mid-October most of those new sideem who had set forth with specific reporting tasks had come back, and the gist of their reports been made known to Lucerne and the Keepers. Although some key questions had still not been answered, and he had yet to meet with Ginnell, or learn the truth of Wyre, Lucerne seemed to have instinctively felt that the time to give a more specific and uniting task had come. He knew that winter would soon be on them all and that if sideem were to reach the further destinations he would want them to go to, he must lose no time. What was more, the gathering sideem were growing restless for all knew they would be given new tasks and most were impatient for more important ones than they had before.

  Lucerne was inclined to act quickly, and it was Terce who urged caution.

  “Wait until we have word from Clowder, wait for Mallice’s return. They were moles anointed with you, they will wish to be involved. And Ginnell... he may feel disregarded if he finds the sideem went forth without due consultation, especially if guardmoles are involved.”

  “You are right,” said Lucerne suddenly, “and I am overtired. I shall give them a little more time. Why is Mallice not yet returned?”

  “You miss her, Master?” said Terce.

  “I do, Terce. But she is your daughter – do you not fear for her? Her task is a dangerous one.”

  “I trust the Word, Master. I know it will protect her.”

  “I trust it will. But I am tired, and Cannock begins to bore me. Reports, interrogations, planning... I shall leave it for a time. You shall take my place.”

  “But Master...” began Terce, much alarmed, for Lucerne had never been far from him, and never beyond his control. Nor did Terce enjoy the idea of absolute power.

  “I have need to find the Word again,” said Lucerne quietly. “Now where is Slighe? Guardmole, summon him!”