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The Ruby of Carminel

Page 13

by Roger Mortimer


  But the battle was not over yet. As Donal’s mice rounded up the prisoners, gunfire crashed from the ruined keep. ‘Malatesta’s in there!’ cried Caladon. He raised his sword, his eyes sweeping across his army, willing them to one last effort. Cranberry, Spital and Chowdmouse were quivering with exhaustion, but from their steadfast eyes Caladon knew they would not fail him. The others, too, were weary, many were limping from wounds. But their king had proved himself a leader. They would not let him down.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ yelled Tamina.

  ‘Are you ready?’ cried Caladon. ‘Charge!’

  With a wild yell, the buccaneers and the Mouse Guards Blue dashed for the keep. Leaping for a yawning gap in the ruined walls, they scrambled over, and Malatesta’s Ermines fell back before their furious attack. Caladon’s sword was a beacon of victory and the mice swept after it.

  ‘Hold them! Hold them!’ Malatesta’s scream rose above the roar of battle. But his Ermines were retreating. Piebald and Scratchfur turned to run, but both fell victim to Rio’s mighty cutlass. ‘Any more of you stinking stoats feel like a fight?’ cried the carpenter, glaring round furiously. Few did. Many were flinging down their weapons and begging for mercy. Roamer was searching for Malatesta. But the Ermine Lord was nowhere to be seen.

  Tamina was leaning on her sword, gasping for breath, when a sudden movement caught her eye. In the far corner of the keep, a stoat was scuttling for the spiral staircase. Tamina saw the spike on his paw – but without a second thought, she dashed across and climbed after him.

  As she ran up the steps, the cheers of the victors and the cries of the wounded faded into silence. Tamina paused, trying to calm her panting breath. Footsteps echoed faintly from above. Leaving her sword, she drew her pistol and padded silently upwards.

  At the top of the steps, Tamina found herself on a wide, windswept platform, encircled by crumbling battlements. She took a step forward. The tower seemed deserted. Suddenly, she heard a footstep behind her and she leapt aside as the spike came flashing down.

  Malatesta was backing her towards the battlements. His spike was raised again and a sword gleamed in his other paw. Tamina pointed her pistol. ‘Surrender, stoat! Your army’s beaten. You’re finished!’

  Shadows were snaking round Malatesta’s heels. His eyes were cold and cruel. ‘You can’t kill me. I am under the Snake-god’s protection. You’ve meddled with me once too often, tamarin. Prepare to die.’

  Tamina pulled the trigger. The hammer fell, flint and steel flashed. But no bullet flew from the barrel. With a thrill of horror, Tamina realised she had forgotten to reload it.

  ‘A flash in the pan, dear Princess,’ sneered Malatesta. His sword swept down, Tamina leaped sideways and the sword crashed against the battlements, sending a shower of broken stones crashing to the ground. Malatesta turned with a snarl, Tamina hurled the pistol in his face, but he ducked and sword and spike flashed down together.

  Tamina sprang clear, backing swiftly away from the edge. As Malatesta whipped round after her, she stumbled and fell. Curling herself up, she grasped her ankles, her eyes pleading for mercy. Malatesta laughed and raised his spike for the kill. He was still laughing when Tamina drew the dagger from her boot and hurled it with all her strength. Malatesta screamed, staggered back and crashed against the battlements. The ancient stones gave way and, with a howl of mortal terror, the Ermine lord vanished over the edge.

  29. Duel to the Death

  The victory had been dearly bought. Many mice lay dead or wounded. Donal had been cut down by Malatesta; several beavers would never see their mountains again. The sorrowing soldiers gently carried their fallen comrades to the graveyard. They buried them among the ancient heroes of Carminel and the roses shed their petals over them like tears.

  Tamina was quivering with shock after her narrow escape. But seeing the wounded mice lying helpless on the battlefield, she pushed aside the thought of Malatesta and the glittering spike that had so nearly ended her life. Rolling up her sleeves, she set to work with her splints and bandages. For an hour or more she laboured, talking cheerfully to the wounded. Rio, Cheesemite and other buccaneers helped. But it was the golden princess the injured mice wanted in their pain; and in helping them she soon forgot that terrible moment on the castle rooftop when only her little dagger had stood between her and death.

  Knowing that Caladon wanted a victory feast, Roamer was searching for food. He explored the ruined keep until he found the door to the cellar. This was where the stoats had been hoarding their plundered stores.

  ‘It’s stuffed with potatoes, cabbages, mushrooms, apples, nuts and cheese,’ he told Caladon; ‘flagons of good country cider, too. It all belongs to the local farmers but they won’t mind if we enjoy it, and there’s enough treasure aboard the Avenger to pay for it.’

  When the wounded mice had been made as comfortable as possible, Tamina joined her friends round the fire and tucked in to a bowl of mushrooms smothered in melted cheese. Everyone had heard how she had slain Malatesta; Caladon and Roamer were loud in their praise. But she frowned and shook her head.

  ‘I’d rather not think about it, if you don’t mind. I’ve never been so scared in my life.’

  Marengo tactfully changed the subject. ‘What will you do with the sword, Caladon?’

  ‘Keep it! It is the greatest treasure of Carminel... Oh, Lord of Light, look!’

  Something was happening to the sword. The golden thread on the hilt was shrivelling away and the shining blade was turning dark and rusty, its keen edge blunt and twisted, just as it had looked when Caladon first saw it.

  The others cried out in disappointment. But Caladon understood. ‘The sword has done its work. It’s helped us to victory. Now we must replace it in the tomb. Who knows? One day, another Mouse King may need it...’

  Leaving the army to their feast, Caladon led Tamina, Roamer and Marengo across the fields to the graveyard. The roses lifted their heads in greeting and the air was rich with their scent. When the companions reached the broken tomb, Caladon laid the old sword to rest. Taking the ruby, he held it high and with a deep rumble, the broken halves of the lid glided together until it was impossible to see where the split had been. Greatly wondering, the friends turned to leave; as they passed beneath the tangled stems, rose petals softly fell, making a red carpet for the victorious king.

  When the army was ready to return to Aramon, Caladon summoned Marengo. ‘Let the Eagle Squadron fly to the city with news of our victory. Tell them that Malatesta is dead, valiantly slain by the princess, and that Carminel is free. Take the ruby; ask Cardinal Matthias to replace it in the Great Cathedral for all our mice to see.’

  The army cheered as the eagles soared into the air. But Roamer said: ‘You shouldn’t have done that. You should have kept hold of the ruby. It exists to protect you.’

  ‘But Malatesta is dead,’ said Caladon, ‘and some of the Mouse Guards Blue are taking the prisoners to their ships. They’ll be going back to Salamex. Who’s left to fear?’

  ‘Flambeau – the Red Duke.’

  Caladon laughed. ‘My uncle? He’s probably fled the country by now! Don’t look so serious, Roamer! It’s over. Let’s go home. Nothing can harm us now.’

  The mice marched home in triumph. As they drew near to Aramon, the country-mice who had sought shelter in the city flocked out to greet them. Marengo had spread the joyful news and as the soldiers crested the last hill and saw Aramon glowing in the sunshine, the pealing of bells came to their ears.

  The Eagle Squadron was circling the city and the walls were lined with cheering mice. Old Matthias, waiting at the North Gate, ran to embrace Caladon and cried a blessing on the returning warriors. As the buccaneers marched in, Cheesemite asked Rio: ‘When can we get back to the old Avenger?’

  ‘Very soon, I hope! Rio, he had enough of the land. He wanna get back to the sea, pronto, and the capitano, he wanna take our princess home. But she’ll not want to stay home, I bet!’

  ‘I hope not,’
said Cheesemite. ‘She’s our princess and she brings us luck. She’ll not want to go back to her island, not after all she’s done!’

  Tamina overheard and smiled to herself. She wanted to see her father again. But she was a buccaneer now, and she was determined to stay that way.

  To the joyful clamour of bells, the victorious army entered the Great Cathedral Square, where cheering crowds pressed round them. Suddenly, Roamer lost sight of the king. He gripped Tamina’s paw. ‘Where’s Caladon?’

  ‘Over on the far side of the square, talking to the cardinal. Do stop worrying, Roamer. Look – the city-mice are hauling him onto their shoulders! Oh, what a fabulous homecoming! Let’s have another feast tonight. We’ll buy some goodies in the market and take them to the orphans’ house – they can celebrate with us, and we’ll invite Matthias and Mother Bibo and – oh, everyone! Then it’s back to the Avenger, and – ’

  Suddenly, a shot rang out. Tamina screamed. Caladon fell, blood streaming from his chest. Roamer swung round. Where had the shot come from? He stared up at the cathedral bell-tower. A whisp of smoke was curling from a high window.

  ‘Come on!’ The buccaneers crowding after him, Roamer pushed through the horrified mice, flung open the cathedral door and dashed up the spiral staircase. The bells still pealed but as Roamer reached the little open space below the tower, the joyful clanging stopped abruptly. In the sudden silence, Roamer heard the creaking of a door behind him. He flung himself flat as a bullet zinged overhead and whined off the stone wall. ‘Stay there!’ he snapped as his buccaneers came tumbling up the stairs. Roamer drew his pistol and pushed open the door.

  A narrow platform ended in a railing. Beyond, stretched the great wooden beam that ran the whole length of the cathedral. Halfway along, where a cluster of narrow timbers arched towards the distant rafters, was Flambeau. He was clutching a rifle and, as Roamer vaulted the railing and landed on the beam, the Red Duke glared at him and Roamer saw the madness in his eyes.

  Roamer suddenly remembered that his pistol was unloaded. Cursing himself for his stupidity, he drew his cutlass and stepped out along the beam. Flambeau was ramming fresh gunpowder into his rifle. Roamer would have to reach him before the gun was ready to fire.

  Though Roamer was used to climbing to the dizzy heights of the Avenger’s masthead, there was always a rope or a section of rigging to cling to. But here, the yawning emptiness beneath him and the high, arching space above turned his legs to stone. He was sweating with fear. Unable to move, he watched as Flambeau dropped a bullet into the gun barrel and rammed it home.

  ‘Go on, Capitano!’ hissed Rio from the doorway.

  ‘Duck down, zur!’ cried Ben. ‘Us’ll give ’im a broadside!’

  Roamer pulled himself together. ‘Leave him to me.’ He took a step forward, then another, his eyes fixed on the Red Duke.

  ‘You’ve interfered for the last time, Roamer!’ screamed Flambeau. ‘I should have killed you long ago! Now I’m going to!’ He clawed back the hammer and brought the gun to his shoulder.

  Roamer dropped his cutlass and ran full-tilt. The Duke’s gun flamed and roared, but Roamer was already diving and as Flambeau drew his dagger, Roamer hurled him onto the beam.

  Flambeau’s dagger flashed down, but Roamer caught his paw, squeezing and twisting it with all his strength. The duke yelled in pain, dropped the dagger and wrenched himself sideways. The buccaneers gasped as the two mice rolled to the very edge. The whole cathedral seemed to spin as Roamer tried desperately to dig his claws into the beam; but the ancient timber was hard as rock, Roamer’s claws slithered off it and he fell.

  Like an arrow, Hyperion streaked through the doors and up the aisle. In mid-air, Roamer made a wild grab for the eagle’s talons. His paws were slippery with sweat but he clung on and Hyperion swooped to a graceful landing inches away from the high altar.

  Marengo scrambled from Hyperion’s back and helped the shaken Roamer down. ‘Are you all right?’

  Roamer was trembling. Never had he come so close to death. He smiled weakly at Marengo. ‘Yes, thanks to you and Hyperion.’

  ‘Thanks to the princess, you mean. She was terrified that something dreadful was happening to you and begged me to come and take a look. Lucky I did.’

  ‘What about Flambeau?’ asked Roamer.

  Marengo pointed down the aisle to where a body lay huddled on the stone floor. ‘Dead. We’re well rid of him. But I fear he’s killed the king.’

  The sound of weeping filled the square. Cranberry, Spital and Chowdmouse knelt beside Caladon, silently begging him not to die. Cardinal Matthias was praying deperately for the king’s life. But Caladon was mortally wounded. Tamina was doing all she could. But not even her skill could save him.

  A shadow fell over the dying king as Hyperion landed beside him. The great eagle was holding something in his beak. It was the ruby, which he had taken from the cathedral. Lowering his head, he gently placed the glowing jewel on Caladon’s heart. The mice watched in awe as the ruby glowed ever brighter until the king’s body was gently enfolded in rippling waves of light.

  ‘Look!’ whispered Tamina. A cloud had floated in front of the sun and the Great Star of the Lord of Light was shining brightly. Suddenly, a starbeam lanced down. It blended with the ruby’s healing light and the mice caught their breath as a tremor passed through Caladon’s body.

  Scarcely daring to hope, Tamina reached out and touched Caladon’s paw. ‘He was cold,’ she whispered. ‘But now he’s warm again.’

  Caladon’s searing pain died away. He felt his strength slowly returning. He raised his paw and grasped the ruby. Opening his eyes, he smiled at his friends.

  ‘Roamer was right,’ he whispered. ‘I should have kept it. But I’ll never let it go again.’

  For a while longer, the Great Star shed its light over the grateful mice gathered in the square. Then, as the cloud passed, and the sun shone once more, the star faded until it was dim and pale in the summer sky.

  Copyright

  PUBLISHED BY APOSTROPHE BOOKS LTD

  www.apostrophebooks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-908556-22-6

  First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Egmont Books Limited

  Digital edition 2012 by Apostrophe Books Ltd

  Copyright © Roger Mortimer 2002 & 2012

  The author has asserted his ownership of the electronic rights and his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Apostrophe Book Ltd Reg. No. 7612239

  Cover design and eBook development by Downhams

  About the author

  A Londoner by birth and a Devonian by adoption, Roger Mortimer originally worked for an advertising agency, where he met his wife; they have been married for over forty years. He then became an actor, training at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, and working in theatres up and down the country. Finally he became a teacher at Highgate Junior School in North London, where he started the school library, taught History, English and Drama and directed over twenty plays. (One of his former pupils is Tom Hooper, director of ‘The King’s Speech’.) While teaching at Highgate, Roger wrote the Mouse Kingdom trilogy.

  He has now retired from teaching and he and his wife live in Devon. One of their daughters is a teacher in a North London primary school; the other
is an actress, currently on a world tour of Richard III.

  Roger enjoys gardening, photography and reading novels: his favourite author is Bernard Cornwell, author of the Sharpe series. When his wife allows him into the kitchen, Roger also enjoys cooking – curries are his speciality. He loves archery, and spends Sunday mornings at his local archery club, pretending he’s at Agincourt. He volunteers as a reader for talking newspapers for the blind, and he particularly enjoys his role as a volunteer Steward and Guide at Exeter Cathedral.

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