by Michael Tod
‘We’re not leaving here without you. You need our help to get better. A few more days won’t make much difference. We know that this is a good defensive position and it’s quite likely that the pine marten is dead anyway by now. Try and sleep, Tansy-Friend.’
It was more than a few days before Tansy was well enough to move. Her fever raged on, sometimes easing a little, only to return with even more vehemence. They knew that they were being watched by Greys from the hillside opposite, but small parties went out each day searching for different herbs to ease Tansy's fever. Foraging parties visited the village bird tables daily for food, though for her own safety Rusty always stayed in the cave, sharing the duty of nursing Tansy with Tamarisk and Chip.
The Hawthorn Leaf Moon and the Catkin Moon had both gone before the fever died, leaving Tansy clearheaded but as weak as a new-born dreyling.
The effect of the Woodstock had come as a shock to Ivy and the Greys. Not a single Grey from Purbeck had survived the previous year when the Woodstock had been used in an attempt to destroy their Power Square, so it was completely unknown to them.
When Juniper had used it on the group below the cave, the Greys had all retreated to lower ground. Some had their whiskers curled into tight spirals, others had whiskers that were loosely curled and those who had been close under the castle wall, including Ivy and Hickory, were unaffected. Sitka’s whiskers waved like ripples in sand.
‘Hickory, Sitka, join me,’ Ivy commanded. Hickory came at once, though Sitka seemed slower to respond and wandered about before coming to Hickory’s side.
‘It seemss that the killing of the Squarry iss not going to be ass eassy ass we expected. The Redss have some weapon that we know nothing of.’
Her mind was working fast. She knew that this was a critical time. Her authority rested primarily on her relationship with Crag, who the Reds had told her was dead, and on her false claim to have been sinless, reinforced with her constant reminders of the horrors of the Sunless Pit. Was this enough to prevent them from turning on her, as so often happened to a leader defeated in a battle?
She looked at the other Greys. The majority were in no state to challenge anything. A retreat and regroup was called for now.
‘Hickory. The mosst important tassk iss to be yourss. Select two other squirrels who have not been affected by the Redss’ sinful sorcery and watch their every actionss. I will lead the otherss back to the Temple Tree to recover and then we will find a way to kill the Squarry ass we have been directed. If there iss any sign of the enemy leaving, send a messenger to me and follow at a disstansse. Do your undersstand?’
Hickory looked at the other Greys, most of whom were pitifully trying to straighten their whiskers with their claws. He thought briefly of just hopping off to start a new life away from all this peculiar business of metal collecting, Squarry hunting and that coldness, that terrible lonely coldness. Then he remembered the Sin-Day. He was not going to risk falling and blindly spinning down, down, down, forever.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I understand.’
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
If there was a frustrated pine marten anywhere in the world, it was Blood. After days and days of searching for the squirrels he now knew where they were.
He had found their scent often, but each time, just as he was expecting to surprise them resting, the scent-trail led down to the beach and disappeared. He could not believe that the whole party had taken to swimming away each day.
There was a spring warmth in the air when he saw them again. He was prowling behind the island castle near where the last of the peafowl were living when he spotted movements in the treetops. He froze and watched a column of squirrels pass overhead, then climbed a tree and followed silently to discover where they were hiding.
Old Oak always took the last position in the line as they made their daily evasive movements, looping in from the coast as the tide covering their scent-trail on the beach, to find a temporary hiding place, only to move on again at low tide. Twice each day Just Poplar insisted that they did this, and they were all exhausted now. But none more so than Oak. His joints were stiff and he often thought of asking Clover or one of the ex-princesses for some herbs to help, but he knew that it was his age, not illness, that was slowing him up. He reflected on how well the two, Voxglove and Cowzlip, frail as a result of generations of inbreeding, had learned Clover’s Caring secrets, leaving her free to develop her role as a Tagger.
Oak was also impressed with the way Clover had grown into that role. Coping with the distress and disruption of their lives caused by the pine marten and her experience of caring for the sick ones had given her a deep insight into squirrel behaviour. All agreed that the tags she allocated were true and fair, and that her advice to the Leader and to the Council was always sound and impartial.
Old Oak was resting, gathering strength to run and catch up with the others, when he saw a movement in a tree in the direction they had come - only a glimpse of brown fur and a flash of white on the chest. At first he thought that some squirrel had fallen behind, unseen by him. Then, with horror, he realised that it was the pine marten - coming his way!
Learning of danger
Leap, scramble, climb, hop or run,
Warn all the others.
He paused. That was the Kernel for this situation. He must warn the others, but he knew that he didn’t have a leap or a scramble left in him, let alone a climb, hop or a run. There was only one other action worthy of an ex-Leader. His life was nearly at an end anyway. He rustled the branches to attract the Marten’s attention and dropped to the ground.
One of the warden’s walking under the trees, looked up as he heard the sound of the leaves moving, but was not prepared for what happened then, as a squirrel dropped from the branches above and lay still at his feet. He crouched to look at it; its tiny chest was palpitating with fear and its eyes were fixed on something above his head. He looked up again but could see nothing unusual. When he looked down, the squirrel had gone.
Oak caught up with the others where Just Poplar had called a halt once he had found that Oak was not with them.
‘The pine marten was following us,’ the old squirrel said breathlessly. ‘But a man with the sign of Acorn, the first squirrel, on his chest frightened him away. You should have seen the look on that marten’s face – he was terrified of that man!’
Just Poplar, remembering the time before the ‘Acorn’ men came, said, ‘If he is afraid of humans, perhaps we should live amongst them. They have never harmed us.’
They all thought about this for a moment.
Clover agreed. ‘That’s right, they never bothered us at the Blue Pool. Yes, let’s go and live among the humans. I’m tired of all this hiding.’
The weary squirrels climbed over the wall of Brownsea Castle and slept in the shelter of the great sequoia tree there, secure in the belief that the marten would not come so close to where the humans were living and working.
When the late winter finally turned to spring, the Outlanders were there, marvelling at the activity of the busy humans below, who were clearing the rampant growth of decades of neglect, trying to get everything ready for the scheduled reopening of the island to the public in May.
The squirrels had seen the pine marten in the distance several times and on each occasion they had moved nearer to wherever the humans were active that day, and had watched the marten turn away in fear,
Although by now mating should have been under way and dreys prepared for a new batch of dreylings, no squirrel had felt the urge, even when the sun had warmed them. Their lives were still unsettled, and the constant presence of the marten, though at a distance, was disturbing. How soon would it be before he overcame his fear of Man and attacked?
Ivy reached the Temple Tree clearing at the head of a posse of tired and demoralised Greys. They had taken three days for a journey that could be done in a single day by a fit squirrel, but few were fit. At the end of the first day those who were unaffected bit off curled
whiskers of the others. This did at least stop them wandering around in circles but none of the whiskerless ones could climb and they progressed on the ground, terrified of being found by foxes or dogs.
The Reds had said that the Temple Master was dead. We’ll know soon if that is true, Ivy thought, as they came through the last of the trees surrounding the clearing. They stopped and stared.
Where there had once been a great oak tree there was now a gigantic squirrel – made of metal, each piece joined to the next. The squirrel-shaped mass stood on its hind legs, towering above them, its tail high and an accusing look in the eyes formed by two metal discs. Ivy remembered those discs; Crag had been very proud of those. They had been in the centres of larger round things beneath one of those human travelling boxes and they had shone in the sunshine when Crag and a gang of Greys had levered them off with sticks. Crag had insisted that they were taken to the highest point in the Temple. Now they were partly blackened by fire, but, like Crag’s own eyes, they glowered down balefully on the tiny animals below.
‘What has happened to Crag?’ Sitka asked, his voice wavering.
‘Can’t you see?’ snapped Ivy. ‘The Sun hass made a metal squirrel out of him to remind uss all that we musst never forget to follow hiss exsample and obey hiss appointed successor – Ivy the Sinless. Now search for another hollow tree which even the whisskerlesss oness can get into for safety. Trusst your leader. Hate the Squarry. Go now and look for hollow treess.
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘That must be the Agglestone,’ Rowan called back over his shoulder.
The other squirrels peered through the heather and bracken in the direction he was pointing. Half a mile away a great rock was propped up at a steep angle, resting on other rocks; it was several times a human’s height, but there were no humans near at this time of day. The sun was low in the sky and darkness would not be far away.
With Tansy at last fit to travel and all the other Reds eager and anxious to be out of the confines of the cave, Alder and Marguerite had sent out a scouting party to check on the grey watchers. They knew where the three had their position, in a scrub oak on the bank opposite the castle mound, and the scouts circled round until they could see that all three Greys were there. They reported back.
‘We leave before dawn tomorrow,’ Alder had announced. ‘We must be clear of the castle mound before it gets light enough for the watchers to see us go. We will head south, though we believe the Agglestone to be to the east. If we are followed or seen, this will help to fool the Greys. Later we will take the true course. I think Marguerite has a Kernel about that.’
The unexpected,
Obscure action, confuses
Squirrel’s enemies.
They had left unseen in the pre-dawn and headed south.
Earlier on the day they first sighted the Agglestone they had passed through a strange countryside. Long strips of short grass ended in patches where the grass was even shorter. The squirrels had marvelled at the pigeon’s eggs which humans were unsuccessfully trying to smash with sticks; the eggs eventually rolled into holes in the ground, when the humans would lift them out and try smashing them again. It was all most perplexing!
Now Alder looked around for a tree in which to spend the night, where they would be safe from fox danger, but there were none near enough for them to reach before it got dark. The air was still warm from a day of spring sunshine and the rock ahead looked as though it could offer protection, if not much in the way of shelter.
‘Make for the rock,’ he said. ‘We’ll spend the night there. Don’t hurry; forage as you go.’
The moon was rising out of the sea when they reached the Agglestone and, as the great silver globe lit the heathland, the tired band of travellers looked up at the dark mass towering above them. Alder and Rowan prowled around the base to find a way up.
There were a number of places where an agile and unburdened squirrel could climb, but they had the Woodstock with them.
‘What about this?’ asked Juniper, his paw on the twisted spiral of wood.
‘I think we can safely leave it down here,’ Alder replied. ‘There’s been no sign of Greys since we left the castle mound. Hide it in that holly bush.’
He indicated a dense mass of holly a squirrel-leap or more from the base of the rock. The stubby mass had grown only to the height of three squirrels, most of each spring’s new growth having been nibbled off by deer before the prickles had had time to harden.
With Rowan’s help, Juniper pushed the Woodstock in under the bush, trying to avoid the spiky leaves, whilst the other squirrels were climbing up the rock with Marguerite in the rear. She had stopped on a ledge and was examining some shapes cut in the face of the stone, presumably by humans. Stark in the moonlight, they were like her numbers but different. One - – she had seen on the ship that had passed them on the sea the previous year, but the others were new to her. There was a , and and many others. What could these be for? she wondered. She pointed them out to Juniper and Rowan, but they were more concerned about climbing up and finding a safe place for the night.
Together they scaled the steep side of the great rock, which stood alone like an island in a sea of heather, and found the others settling down in hollows near the top where tiny plants with fleshy leaves grew in the crevices. The moonlight made the scenery eerie and unreal.
‘I’ll take the First Watch,’ said Juniper the Steadfast, and the others did not demur, even if First Watch was favourite as it meant an uninterrupted sleep thereafter. Juniper was, after all, the oldest of the party and, with the hardships of the journey, his age was beginning to show, although he did his best to hide it.
Alder always took Last Watch, the one before dawn, as this too meant that his sleep would normally be uninterrupted. They had all agreed that it was important that the Leader was well rested so that his decisions would not be affected by tiredness. Other watches were allocated by rota.
Rusty settled down beside Chip. She had been practising warm actions on their journey, both towards her son and to the other squirrels. It certainly felt good and made her glow inside. She was learning new Kernels every day. Her favourite was:
You will be much loved,
No matter what else you lack,
If you are just kind.
Rusty savoured the Kernel and tried reversing the lines:
If you are just kind,
No matter what else you lack,
You will be much loved.
It meant the same thing that way, only somehow stronger, rather like seeing a reflection in still water, where the upside-down image was often brighter than the real one. How she loved being with her new friends!
A tawny owl was hooting to signal a successful night’s hunting as Marguerite shook Alder awake for the Last Watch.
She had watched the stars fading from the sky as dawn neared. A Man-light far out over the sea to the east glowed steadily then went out twice in quick succession, then glowed again. It had kept repeating this obscure signal and she had wondered what it was for. Then she turned her mind to the strange Man-carvings on the rock below. What did they mean? Why had men spent time cutting them? What was the significance of the shapes being mostly in twos or threes? She decided to take another look in daylight before she left the rock in the morning.
She had been away from the Blue Pool for so long, the sense of loss at leaving it was diminishing and she was almost enjoying the challenges of the journey, though a deep-seated fear for her parents on Ourland gnawed at her insides. She tried to tell herself that she was doing all she could to get there and that Tansy’s illness had unavoidably held them up, but her mind started to go down the ‘what if’ path. She shook herself. She had taken the action that she had honestly believed to be the best at the time. If events subsequently proved it to be wrong, so be it.
Looking behind you
There is never any mist,
The view is superb.
She smiled as she thought of Tansy, now comfortably
asleep between Tamarisk and Chip, who in turn was snugged against his mother, Rusty. Tansy and Tamarisk were together most of the time, Tamarisk much less tense since his rescue of Rusty. He would be due for an up-tag soon, she must put her mind to choosing a suitable one. And Rusty might like her name changed to that of some flower, following the traditions of the Mainlanders.
Chip’s dependence on Tansy had lessened during her fever and he spent most of his time with his mother, who was eager to learn all the customs and traditions of the Mainland squirrel culture. She knew many of the important Kernels. Although initially unsure of herself, which Marguerite put down to a lifetime of dominance by the Temple Master, she was learning that females could and should play active roles in all squirrel affairs. It would soon be time to allocate her a tag as well as a new name.
When Alder had taken over watch, Marguerite snuggled down next to Juniper and closed her eyes, but the strange shapes paraded across her eyelids – . She tried counting the corners to see if they were numbers. F had three but there was already a number for that. had three as well and so did . had none, like her figure 0. Soon she was dozing, warmed by the body heat of her life-mate.
Alder sat on the highest point of the rock, watching the sky lighten in the east. He had come to enjoy seeing the sun rise on these early watches; first the almost imperceptible fading of the blackness, then a hint of grey light as the birds began their dawn chorus. Then any eastern clouds would catch a trace of pink on their lower edges and gradually, so gradually, the light would get stronger and the birdsong louder, until the edge of the sun peeped over the horizon and day had really begun.
