by Robin Jarvis
The rat staggered back as if hit by an unseen blow. Her face was drawn and haggard. Audrey gasped.
‘Did you see? Child, did you see?’ Akkikuyu asked frantically.
‘No, what happened? What did you see? Was it my father?’
Akkikuyu breathed thickly for a time. Never before had she experienced true clairvoyance.
‘Your father is dead,’ she croaked eventually.
Audrey shook her head defiantly. ‘It’s not true!’ she cried. ‘You’re lying. You can’t see the future. I have no sisters, and my father isn’t dead!’ Audrey beat, her fists against the black rat.
‘Leave me. Go!’ Akkikuyu snarled and threw the mouse from her. ‘Your papa is no more. Believe that!’
Audrey bit her lip to stop it trembling. She did not believe the fortune-teller. She turned and ran.
Madame Akkikuyu let her go. She was confused – the memory of her visions had startled her. What was she to do? She felt sure that they were all true. Was this to herald a new time for her? She turned back to the crystal and looked at it suspiciously. She poked it tentatively as if it were a sleeping snake. It did not move. She took it in her claws once more and gazed into it. All was dark. No matter how she tried no more visions came. Slowly the rat raised her eyes from the globe. Perhaps it had something to do with that mouse. Akkikuyu put the crystal into one of her bags and slung it over her shoulder. She set off to find Audrey.
* * *
Audrey had run a long way. Her heart thumping and her body racked with sobs, she had to stop. She leaned against the brick wall and tried to catch her breath. Why should she believe Akkikuyu? She was certain her father was alive – she had heard his voice. Why did everyone think he was dead?
Audrey had been breathing hard. She suddenly realised the noise she was making. Down in the sewers that was a big mistake. She covered her mouth with her paw to muffle the sound but it was too late. Someone or something was coming.
Audrey stood stock-still, too afraid to move, hardly daring to look. Whatever it was, it was getting nearer. Through her half-closed eyes she couldn’t see much. Perhaps it would pass by without seeing her. Lowering her eyes she saw that below the ledge on which she stood was another. Perhaps she could jump down on to that – it didn’t look too far. It seemed her only chance. Audrey dashed out of the shadows, pushed past the figure and jumped off the ledge.
Piccadilly let out a howl of fright. He had been walking with his head down, keeping a look-out for slippery patches, when without warning he received a sharp dig in the stomach from something rushing by him. He crumpled up as the wind was knocked out of him. Turning quickly, he was just in time to see Audrey disappearing below the ledge. Piccadilly dragged himself to the edge and called out. ‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing?’
Audrey stopped. The clear high voice belonged to no rat. Turning, she saw the young mouse leaning over the edge, looking down at her.
‘That hurt, you know,’ Piccadilly said.
Audrey sauntered back. ‘Serves you right for sneaking around.’
Piccadilly grinned. ‘Frighten you, did I?’
‘Certainly not! I did think you were a rat, but I wasn’t scared,’ she pouted.
Piccadilly sobered. He had managed to outrun the rats, but only just. They were not his favourite topic of conversation at the moment. He put out his paw to help Audrey back up.
‘Thanks,’ she said when she stood on the top ledge once again. ‘What are you doing down here anyway?’
‘Trying to get out,’ Piccadilly answered grimly. ‘And don’t talk so loudly!’
‘I haven’t seen any rats since I’ve been down here,’ she said, ‘apart from that fake fortune-teller.’
Piccadilly shook his head. ‘Well I have and believe me, they’re terrible.’
Audrey looked at this mouse. She had never seen a “grey” before. Yes, she liked him, apart from his silly fringe. ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.
‘The city. I’m Piccadilly by the way.’
‘Audrey Brown,’ she smiled.
Piccadilly’s face fell. The change was so dramatic that Audrey thought he had seen something dreadful behind her. She turned but there was nothing.
‘If you’re Audrey Brown then I suppose this belongs to you,’ he said slowly and took a mousebrass from his belt.
Puzzled, Audrey took it and gasped. ‘Where did you get this? It’s my father’s.’
‘Albert told me to give it to Gwennie, but . . .’ his voice trailed off sadly.
‘Why? When did you see him?’
Piccadilly looked away. ‘He didn’t know what to say.
Audrey was shaking. ‘Well?’
The young mouse looked directly into her eyes. ‘He gave it to me just before . . . before he was captured.’ There was a silence. ‘I’m so sorry Audrey, I think your father is—’
‘No he isn’t!’ Audrey wouldn’t let him finish. She didn’t want to hear that word again. ‘The rats took him and you ran away, didn’t you? You turned tail when he needed your help.’
‘That isn’t true – it’s not how it happened at all. He told me to go. There was no hope of saving him.’
Audrey glared at him. ‘I hate you! You’re a coward. You left my father with the rats. Well, he’s not dead. I heard him yesterday afternoon.’
‘Yesterday?’ Piccadilly tried to reckon the hours. ‘But that isn’t possible, Audrey. I was with him all yesterday.’
‘Look!’ Audrey snapped. ‘I don’t know why you’re saying these things but we’re going to get back to the Skirtings and we’ll see what my mother thinks of your lies.’ She set off along the ledge.
Piccadilly ran after her. ‘Why won’t you listen? Albert was taken because he overheard Jupiter’s plans – I only just got away.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true,’ protested Piccadilly. ‘He told me to trust in the Green Mouse and . . .’ He wiped his eyes as the memory brought back the fear and grief. ‘How could He have let that happen to Albert? I hate the Green Mouse!’ he cried. ‘He doesn’t exist.’
On the ledge below, Madame Akkikuyu listened with interest – especially to the part about Jupiter. She was sure the Lord of the Sewers would be grateful to know the whereabouts of this mouse. Madame Akkikuyu smiled widely and licked her long yellow teeth.
4. Three in the Dark
Deep in the sewers Madame Akkikuyu crept along a ledge towards the altar of Jupiter. Below her the dark swirling water was disturbed by the leaking of an ill-fitting sluice gate set into the wall and operated by heavy chains. The fortune-teller stepped around one of the candles and looked up into the deep dark portal. She was about to call to the god when Morgan sprang out behind her.
‘What do you want here, hag?’ he hissed.
Akkikuyu sniffed at him. ‘I come to speak with the great one, not you, Stumpo.’
Morgan grabbed at her. ‘No one talks to ’im ’cept me. Now go on, you old baggage.’
‘Oh you spotted stump,’ she laughed. ‘How long you remain chief lackey? I wonder.’ The fortune-teller narrowed her eyes. ‘I have news for the great one, news of your blunderings. Dare you stop me?’
Morgan snorted with contempt. ‘Where do you get your news, maggot-face?’
Akkikuyu lowered her voice and spoke with reverence. ‘It has been revealed to me in the crystal. Much have I seen.’
At this Morgan scoffed. ‘Don’t come the phoney here, ducks. It won’t wash. I knows what you were ’afore you got too old an’ ugly. Now ‘op it!’
A great rumbling interrupted them.
‘Now you’ve torn it, you old witch,’ whispered Morgan fiercely. ‘He’s coming!’
From the portal above, the rumour of Jupiter’s approach sounded loudly in their ears and two fiery points blazed out of the shadow.
The piebald rat fell on his face. ‘Oh Great Glory,’ he stammered.
‘Why have you disturbed my rest?’ said Jupiter.
Morgan tremble
d. ‘No, not I, Dark Majesty. ’Tis this witch lump ’ere. She come a-pokin’ an’ a-nosin’. Shall I have ’er ’ead separated from ’er shoulders – nice an’ gradual like?’
Throughout all this Madame Akkikuyu, stood proud and erect. Now she spoke. ‘Oh Lord of All,’ she began and bowed with more grace than any would have given her credit for. ‘This day I have seen in my crystal things which I cannot pretend to understand.’
‘Shut it trollop!’ squawked Morgan.
The flaming eyes burned brighter.
‘Leave us, Morgan,’ Jupiter said.
‘But my Lord! Oh Prince of the Dying!’ exclaimed the rat. ‘She is nowt but a fake, why she used to—’
The voice from the dark growled at him and Morgan left the altar quickly, swinging his stumpy tail after him.
‘And now, Akkikuyu,’ Jupiter continued in a sweet but menacing tone, ‘tell me all.’
Madame Akkikuyu swallowed hard and told everything that she had seen in the crystal – the empire of rats with Jupiter at their head dominating the world; the young mouse girl with the shining ornament; and then the overheard conversation with Piccadilly.
To all this the darkness in the portal listened, savouring every word. Finally Jupiter spoke.
‘Akkikuyu, I believe all you saw will come to pass, but these mice must be removed from the tale. Can I trust you with the task?’
‘Yes, I no fluff it like master-no-tail.’
‘Excellent,’ Jupiter continued. ‘Yet I sense there is more you would ask of me.’
She bowed once more.
‘You are wise, Great One. As I, Akkikuyu, have said, so shall I do. I pledge my loyalty.’
‘And yet?’
She took from her bag the crystal.
‘This do I offer unto you for your service, my Lord – only today was I allowed to use it properly. How much more would I like never to need it again.’
Jupiter laughed, a horrible high jarring sound. He saw what she was driving at.
‘So that’s it. Morgan merely wants power but you desire much more. You seek some of my magic! Even now I feel the lust for it in your blood. Ha! I fancy you would make a more efficient lieutenant than he when the time comes. Yes, it amuses me. I accept your crystal, but only when you deliver unto me the girl Audrey and Piccadilly shall I invest you with some of the black powers.’
Akkikuyu stood back and bowed.
‘As you have willed so shall it be,’ she said and was granted permission to leave.
On her way out she met Morgan. He snatched at her by her bag straps.
‘Don’t mess with me,’ he warned her. ‘He may have a new toy in you for the present but as soon as he’s bored, you’re for it – I swear.’
Akkikuyu looked at him coldly.
‘Your time is over, Stump? You not flavour of month any more. I shall not fail him.’
Anxious, Morgan shook her.
‘He needs me to get the lads to do his diggin’. He needs me.’
Akkikuyu brushed him away from her.
‘Soon I take your place,’ she goaded. ‘You best make plan to flee.’
She turned her back on him and continued on her way.
Morgan watched her leave, the remains of his tail beating angrily on the ground.’
‘Oh I got plans, true enough,’ he muttered. ‘Just don’t get in my way, witch!’ and he spat venomously.
Arthur turned over. The early morning rays of the sun were slanting in across his bed. He mumbled and tried to regain his sleep. For a while he lay there breathing softly, waiting to slip back into his dreams. It was no use: he was wide awake. Arthur opened one eye.
It was a bright morning outside, one of those rare, beautiful Mays was just beginning. He opened the other eye. Arthur stretched and scratched, then stretched some more. He looked over to Audrey’s empty bed. She was up early, he mused. He got out of bed and stood in the sunlight. The disturbed dust floated in and out of the rays giving them a solid appearance. The warmth on his face made a refreshing start to the day.
Arthur liked being up and about early; it was just the waking up he found difficult. It was unusual for his sister to be up before him though. Audrey liked to stay in bed and ‘think about things’ as she put it. He had no idea what these ‘things’ were. She was dreamy, everyone knew that. Arthur wondered where she was. Leaving their room he went in search of breakfast.
‘Hello Mother.’
Gwen smiled at him. ‘Good morning. Any sign of Audrey getting up?’
‘But she already is. I mean when I woke up she wasn’t in the bedroom,’ Arthur said.
His mother stopped preparing breakfast. ‘Well where can she be? She hasn’t had a thing to eat’
Arthur shrugged. ‘You know what she’s like, Mum. What’s for breakfast?’
‘Arthur please, before you eat anything, go and find her.’
‘Oh Mum,’ he began; then he saw how upset she was. ‘All right – just wait till I do find her. I’m a growing mouse, I need breakfast, even if she doesn’t.’
Arthur made his way out of the Skirtings.
Oswald and Twit were in the hall when he came out.
‘Morning Arthur,’ greeted Oswald. ‘Isn’t it a glorious day? Cousin Twit thinks he might venture outside today and I might go with him.’
‘Have you seen Audrey this morning?’ Arthur asked them. They shook their heads. ‘If that isn’t just like her, the silly ass, wandering off without a word to anyone.’
‘Maybe she’m gone outside herself,’ suggested Twit.
‘Perhaps we should look for her there’ Arthur agreed.
The three friends crossed the hall and went into the kitchen of the old house.
The floor was covered in smooth linoleum but it was not so polished as to make them slip. Where the floorboards joined the foot of one wall there was a gap and through this the mice would sometimes venture into the garden. In the winter the passage had to be plugged to prevent a terrible draught whistling throughout the Skirtings. It had only been unblocked the day before for the boughs of hawthorn to be brought in and the paper with which it had been stuffed was scattered untidily about the entrance.
‘Have you ever been outside before?’ Arthur asked Oswald.
The other shook his head.
‘You know I haven’t.’
Twit looked up at his cousin. ‘You don’t have to come if you ain’t willin’,’ he said generously.
But Oswald dismissed all thoughts of staying behind.
Arthur had only been out once himself and that was with his father in the autumn when there were no leaves for enemies to hide behind. ‘Of course,’ he said wavering on the edge of the passage, ‘we don’t really know that Audrey came this way.’
Arthur wasn’t really worried about his sister. He thought she could be upstairs somewhere and they would find her later. For the moment he was enjoying the thrill of adventure without a serious thought to any real danger. The three mice knew that the garden was safe enough if they were careful. Arthur didn’t really expect Audrey to be out there, but hunting for her was a good excuse to explore with his friends.
So through the passage they went, happily scaring each other in the dark, and then they were outside. Instinctively they dashed for cover and ran into the tall grass.
Strictly speaking it was more of a yard than a garden, with a concrete area in the centre. But with long neglect nature had taken over. The brambles had thickened, the nettles had grown tall and the hawthorn had spread freely. Now there were cracks in the concrete and green was poking through. The garden was a wild place.
Oswald blinked his pink eyes in the bright light. They were weak and pained him.
Nevertheless it was very exciting to feel the breeze through his whiskers and see the abundant new growth of spring all around him. The scent of the hawthorn blossom was so beautiful that he held his breath for some time.
Twit was in his element. He had been cooped up in the Skirtings for most of the winter and it was
not natural for him. To be out under the sky was a great tonic, and now he seemed to come really alive. He found a stalk of cow parsley and in no time had shinned to the top. There, amongst the starry white spray of flowers, he stayed motionless, his thoughts returning to his field. Once more he was surrounded by golden stalks of corn, nodding and swaying their heads like pale flames. Twit touched his mousebrass, an ear of wheat against the sickle moon. An ache was born in him. How he yearned for his home, his life in the country! He broke out of his reverie and looked down at his friends. Silently and sorrowfully he acknowledged the call of the country. He knew that soon he would have to leave and return home. Slowly he began to climb down.
The sun picked out the gold in his fur and it shone as he descended.
‘That’s a good trick,’ Arthur, called up to him. ‘Do you think you could teach me?’ Twit laughed as he thought of Arthur’s stout frame clambering up a grain stalk.
And so the happy mood had returned to him. Twit was a simple, sunny-natured mouse. He did not let things trouble him for long.
The three mice quite forgot that they were supposed to be looking for Audrey. Twit showed them the curly scrolling of worm casts, and the creatures that lived under damp stones. Oswald squealed as a large, shiny black beetle ran over his tail.
After a while they lay exhausted on the ground. Oswald was panting heavily and shielded his eyes from the sun with the scarf his mother had made him wear that morning.
Oswald really was the cuckoo in the Chitters’ nest. It was as well that Mrs Chitter was such a good body or there might have been unpleasant speculation on his origins. He was so tall and, well, rattish. But no one was ever cruel enough to say so – it would have hurt him deeply. When he had regained enough breath he asked, ‘Is this what it’s like in your field, Twit?’
‘Not much. The field she’m bigger, the corn do be higher,’ said the fieldmouse.
‘And the sun?’
‘Oh she’m the same,’ and they laughed.
They could have stayed out there much longer but a rumble came from Arthur’s’ stomach and that settled it. Back they went.
