Rufus nodded. ‘It’s near the moles’ city. Morganna told us about it. And after that?’
‘Go north. Take food and weapons from the tower, and some warm clothing. Find the eagles! And may the Lord of Light protect you.’
The fire was out. Rufus and Elana, their packs stuffed with food, were preparing to leave, when a mouse hurried up the path. ‘Boss! The rats are up to something. They’re loading their guns, and cleaning their weapons – and there’s a crowd of them coming into the forest! We’d better scarper!’
‘Right!’ Finn pointed north. ‘There’s your path, and here’s my spare pistol and some ammo, just in case. Good luck!’
With a wave to their new friends, Rufus and Elana set off up the track. The eastern sky was tinged with pink; the great star had faded. In the distance, a bugle blared from the rats’ camp.
‘You hear that?’ said Finn. ‘That’s action stations. Looks like Saraband’s going to attack the city sooner than we thought. Let’s go!’
20. Dawn Attack
‘Good work, Finn! Both siege-guns wrecked!’ From the roof of the Great Fortress, Cardinal Odo was studying the rats’ siege-line through his telescope. ‘But what are they up to now?’
Finn could plainly see a horde of rats emerging from the forest, carrying tall, slender trees. They began hacking off the branches, taking care to leave short stumps sticking out all the way to the top of each trunk.
‘They’re making ladders, sir. But I don’t think they’ll risk an attack in broad daylight. Dawn tomorrow’s my guess, so we’d better get ready.’
‘Right. Anything else to report?’
Finn told the cardinal all about his meeting with Rufus and Elana. ‘I wanted them to bring the Treasures here. But Rufus insisted on finding the eagles first. It’s strange, sir; Rufus doesn’t look like a slave, or talk like one. Carries himself like a General . . . And I found myself obeying his orders!’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting Rufus,’ said the cardinal. ‘He was right to seek the eagles. We must try and hold the city until they come. And you say that only Rufus was able to touch the Crown? I must tell McCrumb about that. He knows more about the Treasures than I do. Finn, I’m making you Captain of Aramon, so get busy and organize our defences.’
As the word spread, soldiers and citizens threw themselves into preparations for the big attack. Fear was mixed with relief that the waiting was nearly over. Barricades of boxes, tables and chairs sprang up in every street in case the city itself became a battleground. While mice cleaned their weapons, delicious smells rose from the houses as the mouse-wives cooked the last of the food. ‘Let all mice eat well tonight,’ said Odo cheerfully. ‘We cannot fight on empty bellies – least of all me!’
Finn was leaving nothing to chance. Relays of mice were organized to carry ammunition up to the walls; buckets of water were placed outside every house in case of fire, and all children were taken to the Great Cathedral and placed under the care of old Bishop Sigmond and the good priests of the Lord of Light. Finn even found time to visit Silence, who was prowling restlessly around the hospital in the Great Fortress. His arm was paralyzed, but the wound was healing well. He had no intention of staying out of the battle.
‘Dead-Eye’s in charge at the North Gate,’ said Finn. ‘Burglar’s at the West Gate. Yes, I know,’ he added, as Silence pulled a face. ‘The West Gate’s the weak spot, and it’s where Saraband will attack hardest. Burglar will just have to take his chance. At least you’re well out of it.’
Silence scowled ferociously. He did not want to be out of it.
Finn laughed. ‘All right! Look, I’ve brought you a brace of pistols. Can you shoot with your left paw?’
Silence nodded eagerly, then pointed through the window, and put on a plaintive expression.
‘No! I want you here. Look after the other wounded. I’ll be sending weapons in for them later. If the rats get into the Fortress, I’ll be relying on you to get these mice to safety. So don’t argue!’
Finn’s command post was a tavern on the corner of the Cathedral Square. As he walked past the city walls in the gathering dusk, mice on the battlements waved and called greetings to him. In the shadow of the walls, more mice were crouching round their watch fires. Finn stopped to talk to them, telling them jokes, making them laugh, and marvelling at their cheerful courage.
As darkness fell, a tense silence settled over the city. Finn was restless. Around midnight, he left his command post and headed for the North Gate, where he found Dead-Eye and his section tense and anxious.
‘Can’t see a ruddy thing,’ muttered Dead-Eye. ‘No stars. The rats have put out their fires. We could do with Silence up here now. D’you reckon Rufus’ll make it in time?’
Finn sighed. ‘I doubt it. But we’ll hold them off as long as we can. I’ll go and see how Burglar is. Good luck! Keep careful watch.’
Above the West Gate, Burglar’s mice were crouching like statues, staring fixedly into the darkness. Far away, an owl hooted to its mate, but no other sound broke the deathly silence, save the Cathedral clock tolling the hours.
‘Four o’clock,’ muttered Burglar. He knew the Gate’s weakness and was not looking forward to the morning. ‘Soon be dawn. You get back to HQ, Boss. We’ll be all right.’
But Finn was feeling uneasy. Why had the rats put out their fires? ‘I’ll stay a little longer . . . What was that?’ He leaned over the battlements, listening intently. Again he heard it – a faint rustling, drawing nearer . . . and nearer . . . A gentle breeze awoke and whispered round the walls. Finn sniffed.
Rats!
Now, in the first glimmer of dawn, he could see hunched shapes on the ground, at no great distance from the Gate. The rats were there, covered by their cloaks. The rustling he had heard was their ladders. Far behind them loomed the menacing shape of another siege-gun.
Finn’s yell shattered the silence. ‘Get those rats! Fire!’ But even as the mice shot a deadly volley, the siege-gun roared. A massive round-shot struck the old timber Gate. It shuddered, but held. Now, from all round the outside of the city, siege-guns thundered. But only two were firing at the Gates. The others were hurling their shots over the walls, or hammering the Great Fortress. As the shots screamed over the battlements, the rats made a dash for the walls, raised their ladders and scrambled up.
The mice were ready for them. They waited until the rats were almost at the top, then shoved hard at the ladders with their rifle-butts. Rats screamed as they toppled to the ground and fled as the defenders opened fire. But another forest of ladders appeared, and once more the mice heaved and strained to push them down.
At the third shot, the old timbers of the West Gate groaned. Instantly, a horde of rats charged. ‘Fire!’ yelled Burglar, and the rats were stopped in their tracks. ‘I must get back to HQ,’ said Finn. ‘I’ll send you reinforcements. Good luck!’
As Finn hurried through the streets, he heard the roar of battle breaking out all along the walls. The mice were yelling like furies, hurling the ladders down, and firing steadily on the rats.
A shout went up as Cardinal Odo appeared. Wearing a soldier’s clothing of buff-coat, breeches and boots, and followed by the faithful McCrumb, he strode along the ramparts, praising, encouraging, organizing help for the wounded. He brandished his great club at the rats, daring them to enter his city.
Still the guns thundered, and red-hot cannon-balls crashed into the tightly-packed houses. A steady stream of messengers was coming and going in the Cathedral Square, as Finn calmly gave his orders. The situation at the West Gate worried him, but at least, he thought, the Great Fortress should hold out.
But, unknown to Finn, at that very moment the Great Fortress was in deadly peril.
21. The Fight for the Fortress
‘Gobtooth!’
Saraband was furious. The attack had been going on for hours and still the walls held out. Gobtooth had better find another way in.
‘Take some reliable rats, not those idiots Nym and
Skillet, and go round to the east side of the Fortress. See if you can find an unguarded sewer – anything, so long as you get inside!’
Calling for two of his rats, Gobtooth hastened to the end of one of the long trenches below the Fortress. The rats crouched in the mud beside their guns, while Gobtooth peeped cautiously over the top. To his left, the Fortress wall curved away, undefended, as far as Gobtooth could see. All the mice’s attention was on the rats in the trench who were loading and firing the siege-gun.
‘Aim higher!’ snapped Gobtooth. ‘Keep their heads down while we get out of here!’
The gunners obeyed and the defenders ducked as a shot smashed against the parapet.
‘Now!’ Gobtooth and his rats scrambled out and pelted to the unprotected side of the Fortress. There the ground fell steeply away from the towering wall. The rats almost slipped, but they clung to the stonework, inching along until –
‘Captain! Look! A door, low in the wall, almost invisible.’
‘The postern gate,’ said Gobtooth. ‘So small, but big enough for us! You two – back to Saraband. Tell him to send three companies of warriors and anything that’ll burn. We’ll soon have this little door down.’
‘Come on, Silence! Let’s get out of here and sort them rats out!’
Corporal Draggletail and the other wounded mice of the Dirty Squad were tired of skulking in the hospital. They could hear shots thudding against the Fortress, and were desperate to join the battle. So was Silence. But Finn had ordered him to stay put unless the rats broke in, so he smiled and shook his head. As the wounded mice groaned, a young officer, gasping for breath, tumbled into the room.
‘Silence! We’ve spotted some rats heading for the postern gate. Going to break in. No mice available – all up on the roof – can you … ?’
‘Yes!’ roared Draggletail. Silence nodded eagerly. The mice hastily tightened their bandages, picked up their crutches, snatched up their rifles and hobbled out of the hospital down to the Great Hall.
Silence led them along the passage towards the postern gate. But they had not gone far when the acrid stench of burning rags set their whiskers twitching; smoke was billowing round the door.
Raising his good arm, Silence made three chopping movements. The soldiers understood. Hastily, they formed three ranks – one crouching, one kneeling, one standing. Coughing and choking on the smoke, the little company cocked their rifles and waited.
Outside, the rats were howling with excitement, calling on the Sable Lord to help them. Suddenly, the ancient timbers vanished behind a wall of flame. Narrowing his eyes against the blinding smoke, Silence could see the rats cowering from the blazing door. He signalled to the front rank. The narrow passage echoed to the crash of gunfire, and the rats screamed and vanished. But as the door crumbled to a heap of glowing ash, first one rat then another leapt across and charged down the passage. They were cut down as the second rank fired.
But now the rats were flooding in. Silence gave the signal for one more volley. As the mice hastily reloaded, he signalled them back. Halting at the end of the passage, they fired a triple volley. Still the rats came on, screaming their battle-cries, and Silence signalled his mice back across the Great Hall towards the doors.
As the rats poured in, the mice fired one more devastating volley before hobbling out into the courtyard, slamming the doors behind them.
‘Boss!’ cried Draggletail, limping up to Finn’s command post. ‘The rats are in the Fortress!’
‘Is Silence all right?’
‘Yeah! Him and the lads are fighting a rearguard action outside the Fortress. The rats fired the postern gate. We tried to stop them, but there was too many, and there’s more of them pouring in every minute!’
Another mouse came panting up.
‘Boss! Message from Dead-Eye. The North Gate’s down. We’re trying to hold them back, but – ’
‘Boss! The West Gate’s down. The rats are through! Burglar’s falling back!’
‘Captain Finn!’ Cardinal Odo, his fur blackened with smoke, shouldered his way through, followed by McCrumb, who was bristling with pistols. ‘The rats are in the city,’ said Odo calmly. ‘What do you advise?’
Finn thought quickly. ‘Sir, if the rats have taken both Gates and the Fortress, the city must fall. Will you go to the breach in the north wall? I’ll order every mouse to make a fighting retreat towards it. We’ll get as many out as we can.’
‘What then?’
‘Rufus said to go west, to the Castle in the Marshes. I think we should do as he said, for it’s there he’ll look for us when he has the eagles.’
As the Cardinal and McCrumb hurried away, Finn turned to the messengers. ‘It’s all right, lads. Keep calm. Tell Dead-Eye, Burglar and Silence to hold them off as long as they can. And pass the word to the mice on the walls that they must keep the rats away from the breach!’
A rat panted up to Saraband. ‘My lord! Gobtooth’s taken the Fortress and both Gates are down! Saraband flung out his paws and yelled with glee. The city was his!
‘Excellent! Halt the attack on the wall! Every warrior on the right to attack through the West Gate; those in the centre go for the North Gate, and the left wing to the Fortress!’
Yelling for the Red Kites to take over the attack on the walls, Saraband hurried off to join the attack on the Great Fortress. Already, he pictured his warriors acclaiming him King.
Still the siege-guns thundered, but now the rats were firing heated round-shot, and house after house exploded in flames. Sparks flew on a rising wind until whole districts were ablaze.
Burglar, Dead-Eye and Silence had fought their way to the breach. Here, the houses were as yet unharmed. Using them as cover, the mice kept up a deadly fire upon the advancing rats, while Odo and McCrumb urged the females, and those mice too old to fight, over the breach. Outside the walls, the rats were swarming towards the Gates and the Fortress, and the way to safety would soon be clear.
Red Kites were diving on the ramparts; but mice were steadily climbing the slope of rubble. Gradually, Finn’s own mice were retreating closer to the breach. Other soldiers were falling back along the walls, desperately defending themselves against the Red Kites.
Finn knew the end was near. He was about to call out to Odo to leave the city and save himself, when he suddenly remembered the children. They were still in the Cathedral! ‘Burglar! Dead-Eye! Follow me!’
To either side, the streets were full of rats. But they dashed down a narrow lane and had just reached the end, when the whole street in front of them vanished in a wall of flame.
22. ‘The Last Fight!’
Reeling back from the burning houses, the mice darted up a side-turning and flung themselves flat as a flight of bullets whistled over their heads. ‘Charge!’ yelled Finn, and they dashed for the barricade, leapt to the top, fired their pistols, then hacked their way clear, sprinting off down the street before the rats knew what had hit them.
The mice pelted down side streets and back alleys, seeing the pall of smoke spreading over the city. At last, they reached the Cathedral Square, and saw a huddle of children with Bishop Sigmond of Aramon and a group of black-robed priests, looking almost as terrified as the little mice. Finn panted up to the Bishop. ‘Are they all here, sir?’
‘Oh, dear me, I do hope so, yes, I certainly hope so,’ quavered the old mouse, ‘though you never can tell with children. They keep running off, you know. But I think they’re all here.’
‘No, we ain’t!’ called a young mouse, pointing at the Cathedral. ‘Snout’s still in there!’
‘I’ll go,’ said Burglar.
The Great Cathedral was cold and dark. At first, Burglar could see nothing but deep shadows; then, peering up to where a solitary candle still burnt on the high altar, he spotted a small figure sitting on the floor, calmly eating a loaf of holy bread. Burglar strode up to the little mouse, snatched the bread from him and replaced it on the altar. ‘You shouldn’t be eating that!’
‘Why not
? I’m hungry!’
‘Look – nicking bread when you’re hungry is one thing. Nicking holy bread’s another.’
‘Can’t see why. Bread’s bread, ain’t it?’
Burglar had no time to argue. Gripping the little mouse’s paw he hauled him off, still protesting, down the aisle.
‘Your name Snout?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why do they call you that?’
‘Got a long snout, ain’t I? You going to make something of it?’
Burglar grinned. ‘I might! But now we’re going to find your mum, and get you and the others out of here!’
‘Ain’t got no mum. Nor dad. Me and my mates live on the streets – don’t have to go to school!’
Blimey, thought Burglar, he’s just like I used to be!
Outside, Finn was organizing the children into groups, each under the protection of a priest. ‘I’ll lead!’ he called, as Burglar and Snout emerged from the Cathedral. ‘Dead-Eye, look after the middle groups. Burglar, you cover the rear.’
‘Burglar?’ squeaked Snout. ‘Cor! You’re one of the Dirty Squad, ain’t ya?’
Burglar grinned down at him. ‘Yeah! You going to make something of it?’
Snout smiled back, and gripped Burglar’s paw more tightly. ‘I might!’
As they hurried through the streets, the dark clouds opened and more snow began to fall. The sound of firing grew louder, and the smell of gunpowder lay heavy on the air. As they approached the final turning, Finn signalled the children to stop while he ran to the corner. He peeped round. The street was full of rats. ‘Can’t go down there,’ he told the Bishop. ‘Wait here. I’ll see if there’s another way through.’
But the fighting had spread, until every house was a fortress, every street a battleground. Several fires were blazing unchecked, and the snowflakes, falling through the smoke, looked like tiny black spiders.
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