The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison

by Robin Jarvis

  The fortune-teller lowered the claws she had raised against the ravaging gale and looked down at the dolly.

  ‘Command it,’ said Nicodemus.

  ‘I . . . I?’ she stammered.

  ‘Who else? It will obey none but you.’

  Madame Akkikuyu swept back the hair which had blown over her face and peered again at the corn dolly. ‘Up,’ she ordered meekly.’

  One of the grain arms gave a sudden twitch and the rat drew her breath sharply.

  ‘Up!’ she said again with more force.

  The straw figure flipped itself over, rustling and crackling. It leant on its arm and jolted itself up until it stood before her.

  The fortune-teller took some steps around the dolly and waved her arms over it just in case someone was tricking her with cotton threads.

  But no, the corn dolly was alive!

  ‘Instruct it to bow before you,’ suggested Nicodemus.

  ‘Bow,’ said the rat.

  With a snapping and splintering the corn dolly bent over and bowed.

  ‘Hee hee,’ cackled Madame Akkikuyu joyfully jumping up and down, her tail waving around like an angry snake. ‘It moves, it moves,’ she called. ‘And only for Akkikuyu, for she alone. See how it dances.’

  She pointed to the figure and jerkily it moved from the confines of the triangle, making odd jarring movements. Its dress swept over the stone floor like the twigs of a broom as it pranced in a peculiar waltz. The arms quivered in mockery of life and the loop head twisted from time to time as though acknowledging an invisible partner. It was a grotesque puppet and Madame Akkikuyu was its master.

  The corn dolly tottered this way and that, buckling occasionally in a spasm that might have been a curtsey and shaking its dress with a dry papery sound. Madame Akkikuyu capered around with it, beckoning and following, teasing and pushing until finally she panted ‘Stop!” and the straw dancer became motionless.

  ‘So,’ began Nicodemus in a pleased tone, ‘you must choose, will you help me?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she crowed gladly.

  ‘Excellent Akkikuyu. We must prepare for the spell which will release me from this endless darkness where I am imprisoned.’

  She was eager to learn more and asked, ‘What do we need Nico? I fetch, I get.’

  ‘Hah!’ laughed the tattoo. ‘First I must teach you, and there are many ingredients to find – some will not be easy, others will. There is a ritual involved in the breaking of my bonds and everything must be perfect.’

  ‘Trust me, oh spirit. Akkikuyu no fluff.’ As she said it she thought her own voice came to her out of the past.

  ‘Come then, let us talk away from this ditch. Only the hours of night are afforded to me. That is the only time I may speak with you Akkikuyu, so spend your days wisely and make no exertion that may tire you out ere night falls.’

  She agreed and promised to rest for most of the daytime from then on. As she climbed up the bank the fortune-teller glanced back at the corn dolly and grinned as she thought of the powers that would soon be hers. What would her mousey friend have to say to this, she wondered.

  9. Mould to Mould

  It was another baking hot day. Audrey awoke to a blazing blue sky empty of cloud. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and peeped out of the nest.

  The Hall of Corn was glowing with light. The sun shone down on the stems and those stout wives who had insisted on taking their sheets were shaking them vigorously outside the nests, waving them like dazzling flags of surrender.

  Old Todmore passed below, swaggering on his bowed legs and nibbling a straw. He took up his usual position in the Hall and watched the world hurry by.

  ‘Bless the Green for morns like this,’ he sighed, stroking his whiskers.

  Tired sentries came into the Hall blinking and yawning whilst those newly awake ran to take their places.’

  ‘Where’s our Hodge?’ a small mouse woman asked Figgy.

  ‘Haven’t seen him,’ was the sleepy reply.

  ‘Well, I’m not takin’ his breakfast to him. Sentry, sentry – that’s all that boy thinks about.’

  Arthur poked his head out of his nest. He was covered in bits of grass and moss. ‘Mornin’ Sis!’ he said brightly. ‘Breakfast’s ready – didn’t you hear Mrs Scuttle calling?’

  ‘No,’ replied Audrey, ‘but I’ll be down in a minute.’ She retreated back into her nest, but after breathing the fresh air of the outside world the atmosphere in her bedroom seemed stifling. She decided that nests were lovely places to spend a night but in the daytime they were like ovens.

  As soon as she had dressed and brushed away some stray bits of straw she clambered out and descended the ladder Mr Scuttle had made for her.

  On the ground below, Gladwin Scuttle had spread a clean cloth and laid out the breakfast things. Arthur was well into his third helping when Audrey arrived.

  ‘Mornin’ missy,’ greeted Elijah. ‘And how did you sleep last night?’

  ‘Very well, Mr Scuttle, thank you.’

  Mrs Scuttle patted the cloth by her side and said, ‘You sit down here, dear, and tell me what you think you’ll be doing today.’

  ‘I think I’d better find Madame Akkikuyu,’ Audrey answered glumly. ‘I was a bit nasty to her last night.’

  ‘Hey Sis,’ Arthur butted in, ‘I’m going to be a sentry today. Twit’s going to present me to Mr Woodruffe and they do a little ceremony or something,’ he added with his mouth full.

  ‘That’s right,’ agreed Elijah, ‘you’ll be made to swear an oath of allegiance to Fennywolde for the rest of your days.’

  ‘But Arthur,’ Audrey pointed out, ‘you can’t promise that. What about Mother? You said you’d go back.’

  Arthur looked ashamed. ‘You’re right. Do you know, I hadn’t thought about home since I’ve been here – aren’t I awful?’

  ‘Never you mind,’ consoled Elijah. ‘I’ll pop an’ have a word or three with Mr Woodruffe – we’ll see if’n we can’t bend the rules a tiny bit.’ He got to his feet and set off in the direction of the throne.

  The doors of the Hall opened and in came Madame Akkikuyu. She looked tired and she trudged along with heavy limbs. The families of fieldmice waved and nodded to her as though she were a dear old friend and Mr Nep bowed politely as she walked by.

  ‘Here comes trouble,’ observed Arthur dryly.

  ‘Good morning, Madame Akkikuyu,’ called Audrey, trying to be as nice as possible. ‘Did you sleep well – how’s your ear today?’

  The fortune-teller gave her a weary glance and mumbled, ‘Akkikuyu not sleep – she busy all night finding root and herb for mouseling potions.’ She showed them her claws, which were caked in soil and dirt. ‘Ear better,’ she added grudgingly.

  ‘Sit down and have something to eat Madame er . . .’ offered Gladwin kindly.

  Madame Akkikuyu grabbed a whole loaf and shook her head. ‘Akkikuyu not sit – she off to sleep.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mrs Scuttle. ‘Well, when my Elijah gets back I’m sure he’ll make you a nest of your own.’

  ‘No,’ the rat declined sharply. ‘Akkikuyu no like mousey house. She go find place to kip.’

  ‘Akkikuyu,’ said Audrey, ‘if you like we can go for a walk or something later.’

  The rat regarded Audrey for a moment and shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ she replied and stalked away, tearing the bread into great chunks and gulping them down as she went.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Gladwin. ‘She ain’t happy with us mouselets,’ remarked Twit lightly.

  ‘This is all my fault,’ admitted Audrey. ‘I’m not turning out to be a very good companion for her, am I?’

  Arthur munched thoughtfully on a crust. ‘You know,’ he began after a while, ‘Madame Akkikuyu is a lot more independent than she was when we set off – haven’t you noticed? I don’t think she needs you any more Audrey. I do believe she’s settled in here better than we have.’

  ‘I ought to be relieved,’ sighed his sister. ‘It’s funny though – I feel jus
t the opposite, as if I’ve betrayed her.’

  ‘Don’t be soft,’ Arthur told her. ‘You came all this way, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, let her down then,’ argued Audrey. ‘I haven’t been much of a friend to her have I? She thought we were best friends – I think I failed her in that.’

  ‘Pah!’ declared Mrs Scuttle. ‘Rats and mice being friends! I never heard of such a thing!’ They waited for Audrey to finish nibbling her breakfast, then Elijah came puffing back.

  ‘It’s all fixed and sorted,’ he informed Arthur. ‘We put our heads together such as they are an’ we come up with the answer.’

  ‘So I can still be a sentry?’ asked Arthur.

  ‘Aye lad, you can be a sentry for as long as you likes – till you goes home.’

  ‘Great!’ shouted Arthur, dancing around. ‘When can I start?’

  ‘Right now, if you’re willin’. Mr. Woodruffe’s a-waitin’ on you.’

  So, with great excitement, they all went over to the wicker-throne where the King of the Field sat with his staff of office on his knee.

  ‘A blessed Eve to you,’ he smiled warmly.

  They all bowed and curtseyed to him and Audrey contrived to whisper into Mrs Scuttle’s ear,

  ‘Eve?’

  ‘Midsummer’s Eve, child,’ Gladwin murmured.

  ‘So Master Brown, you wish to become a sentry and guard our Hall from enemies. Is this so?’ said the King of the Field.

  ‘Yes Sir,’ said Arthur keenly.

  ‘Majesty!’ hissed Twit.

  ‘Yes Majesty,’ corrected Arthur.

  ‘Who presents this mouse to the King of the Field?’ asked Mr Woodruffe solemnly.

  ‘I do Majesty,’ chirped Twit. ‘He is a friend of mine and a braver lad you never did see.’ He found it hard to stifle the chuckles as he described Arthur to the king. He had to follow the correct procedure which had been unchanged for countless years.

  ‘Now you must swear loyalty to me, your king, and the land of Fenny.’

  Arthur nodded to show that he understood.

  ‘Raise your right paw, Art,’ prompted Twit. ‘Now hold this hawthorn leaf.’

  ‘The hawthorn represents virtue and honour, Master Brown,’ explained Mr Woodruffe. ‘But it is also the sacred tree of the Green Mouse and we shall name him as a witness. Are you ready to be sworn in?’

  Arthur’s lips had gone dry and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He wished his father was alive to see this. ‘Yes Majesty.’

  ‘Repeat after me,’ commenced Mr Woodruffe. ‘I, Arthur of the brown mice, visitor from the grey town, do most solemnly swear by holy leaf and in the Green’s name to protect the Hall of Corn from any evil, though my life should fail in the attempt, till by His Majesty’s leave I am released from service.’

  Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he finished the last sentence. Elijah nudged his wife. ‘That’s the bit we put in,’ he told her proudly.

  ‘Now young sentry,’ began the king briskly, ‘you may go about your duty. Have you been taught all the signals and alarms yet?’

  ‘Why no, Your Majesty.’

  ‘See to it William Scuttle,’ ordered Mr Woodruffe with a twinkle in his eye.

  They all bowed and curtseyed again and as they were leaving Twit said to Arthur, ‘They’re real simple when you knows ’em. Blackbird cries and funny whistles – that sort of stuff. We usually use them to tell each other when it’s dinner time though. Mind you, the most important alarm of all and one you must never use ’cept in the direst need is to yell ‘Fenny’ at the top of your voice.’

  Audrey resumed her conversation with Mrs. Scuttle. ‘Will you be celebrating the Eve tonight at all? We do in the Skirtings.’

  ‘I remember, yes we have a bit of a party. This afternoon all us mums and all the girls are going to make some bunting. There’s a lovely group of rose trees over by the hedge and we thread the petals on to a string. It does look jolly.’

  ‘Could I come along?’ asked Audrey. ‘I can’t imagine anything more boring than watching my brother climb a stalk all day long. I haven’t a clue why he wants to do it.’

  ‘Hah,’ said Gladwin. ‘You sound like you’ve lived in Fennywolde all your life. We can’t understand why the menfolk love it either. Anyway, you’d be most welcome dear. Oh there’ll be such a time tonight! In the excitement of William returning and the Hall-making going on I clean forgot all about the Eve myself till Elijah asked about it last night.’

  The sun was climbing higher in the brilliant sky. The heat hammered down and Audrey felt dizzy. ‘Is there somewhere cool I could sit, Mrs Scuttle?’ she inquired, wiping her forehead.

  Gladwin tutted and scolded herself. ‘Why, there I go, forgetting myself again – when I first came here I was limp as a lettuce for weeks. House mice aren’t used to all this sunshine. Mind you, I can’t remember it being quite so hot as this before.’ She gazed around at the merry families with their plump, pleasant wives and red-eared husbands. This is what she had given up her old home and family for and she had never once regretted it. Suddenly she clicked back to the present and looked at Audrey sheepishly.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she flustered, ‘there’s me wandering off again. You want to get cool don’t you dear – well the best place I used to go when I felt a bit off with the heat was the still pool.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Audrey, ‘Arthur told me that’s where you get all your water from.’

  ‘Now the ditch has dried up we have no choice. You should see poor Grommel trying to carry a full bucket of water with his bad back – poor thing.’

  Mrs Scuttle eventually pointed to where the pool was. ‘Just follow the ditch and you can’t miss it.’ Audrey set off. She went through the great doors of the Hall and walked straight into Jenkin Nettle.

  ‘Hello miss,’ he grinned.

  ‘Oh,’ muttered Audrey, blushing. ‘Good morning Jenkin,’ she added lamely.

  ‘You looks nice this mornin’ miss,’ he said, enjoying the situation.

  Audrey giggled and thanked him. ‘But I always try and look this nice for Arthur.’ And she sauntered out of the field with Jenkin’s eyes following her admiringly. The younger children were playing dust slides near the elm roots.

  ‘You’ll catch it when your mothers see you,’ laughed Audrey.

  The grubby children considered her for a moment, wondering whether they ought to say anything in reply but cleaner, older sisters grabbed them by the paws and dragged them away whispering at them.

  ‘No Josh you mustn’t – you know what Mam told you ‘bout that one.’

  Audrey was taken aback. Evidently, Mr Nettle’s outburst yesterday had been the chief topic of Fennywolde gossip. Audrey was surprised that so many had actually believed his ridiculous accusations.

  ‘Still,’ she shrugged, ‘it takes a long time to make friends and time is something I’ll have plenty of here.’

  She carried on along the ditch, past the elms and the winter quarters and an entrance where the sound of Mr Nettle hammering on the mouse brasses rang out in time to his deep voice booming out hymns to the Green Mouse.

  Soon she found that she had wandered into a patch of dismal shade and she shivered to herself. Rearing high above her was the lonely yew tree, the frightening tree of death. Its branches poked out like bony fingers and sharp claws. She hurried on, past that place – it was much too eerie and dark for her liking. No grass grew in its shadow and no birds sang in its branches.

  The floor of the ditch began to get softer. Instead of dry choking dust it had become a rich brown mud, which yielded under her little pink feet like a dark fruit cake that had been cooked too quickly. The surface was crusty yet underneath it was still gooey and spongy.

  It was a sign that she was not far from the pool. Soon her footprints began to fill tip with water as she passed. She pushed through the trailing leaves of an ivy creeper and found herself staring into the still pool. It was as if she had crossed the threshold into another world, a cool, silent place wh
ere magic was almost visible. The harsh sunlight was filtered through the layers of bright new leaves and dappled the water with great splashes of shimmering green, which in turn were reflected back and bounced around once more. Dragonflies in their polished emerald armour flashed over the water’s surface chasing gnats. Fine trails of bubbles slipped through the water then burst silently, too small to make a ripple. The still pool was a beautiful place.

  Audrey stared, not even daring to breathe in case everything should disappear -so much did it look like a fairy grotto. The edge-of the pool was fringed with plants: water-plaintains, horse-tails and yellow rattles grew there. Behind one clump a husky voice began to speak.

  ‘Alison Sedge – you are the loveliest thing in creation.’

  Audrey looked up, startled.

  ‘You are lovelier than the flowers in your hair. Just look at you. That hair, the goddess would be proud of it.’

  Audrey put her paw over her mouth. She wanted to laugh. It was a girl’s voice that spoke.

  ‘Those eyes – they’re luscious they are. A boy could drown in those.’

  Audrey crept round the plants to see who it was it didn’t sound like any of the girls she had met the day before

  ‘Those lips – don’t you want to eat them up lads? A finer cherry-red pair of lips there never were, won’t someone pick them?’ Now there came a sound of pretend kissing.

  Through the leaves Audrey saw Alison Sedge. She was gazing at herself in the water, enchanted by her own reflection. Her thick hair hung down either side of her face nearly touching the water. This was the reason Audrey did not recognise the girl immediately. She decided that it was rude to stay there without letting the mooning fieldmouse know she was there so she coughed politely.

  Alison Sedge whipped round and stared in horror at Audrey, embarrassment, shame and surprise all registering in her beautiful eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry for intruding,’ said Audrey. ‘I’m Audrey Brown – a friend of Twit. I don’t think we’ve met.’ And then she remembered, this was the girl who had glared at her that first night when Madame Akkikuyu chased away the owl.