The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison (21 page)

As the afternoon wore on, the fieldmice gathered in the Hall of Corn to discuss the unusually hot weather.

Tain’t natural,’ remarked Old Todmore, squinting at the sky. ‘No rain fer weeks now. Mark my words, young uns, there’s summat very wrong ’bout all this.’

The ground had become like stone and here and there long cracks had begun to appear. The corn in the field looked dry and some of the stalks were withered and sickly – an omen that did not go unnoticed by the anxious mice.

Waves of disquiet now coursed through Fennywolde, building on the unease left by Hodge’s death. The tired and anxious Fennywolders took to looking nervously over their shoulders at the slightest noise.

Isaac Nettle, accustomed to the great heat of his forge, peered out over the field and declared to those willing to listen, ‘The fires of the infernal are at work here. Repent ye and crave pardon from the Almighty Green.’ And Mr Woodruffe was too tired and overheated to stop him.

Some mice swooned in the swelter and all throats were burned by the hot breeze. Many spent the day by the still pool, leaving a large space between themselves and the strange town mouse who had brought the odd weather with her.

Eventually, the day burnt itself out and the early stars pricked the evening sky. The fieldmice clambered into their nests, relieved that the long, uncomfortable day was over and worried about the next. They cast themselves on their beds and fell into exhausted faints rather than sleep:

From some of the little round nests plaintive voices were raised in prayers for rain. ‘Please oh Green, deliver us from the sun. Bring down the rain.’

Madame Akkikuyu passed through the field with a satisfied grin on her face. She had been nosing around the top end of the ditch where the mud was still spongy, and after much searching had found a dead frog.

It was a bit old and whiffy but Madame Akkikuyu felt very pleased with herself. She had managed to keep her promise to Nicodemus without killing anything. How clever she felt! He would be very pleased with her – no need to mention how it was acquired. She hurried along, eager to put the grisly object into her pot so that the skin could be boiled away ready for the night’s instruction.

As she was walking through the Hall of Corn a voice called down to her from one of the nests. Hastily the fortune-teller thrust the frog into her bag and glanced upwards..

Young Whortle’s father came scurrying down and stood beside her.

‘Forgive me dear lady,’ said Mr Nep apologetically, ‘but I have a . . . well . . . er . . . something to say to you.’

Madame Akkikuyu narrowed her gleaming black eyes and closed her claws tightly over her bag. ‘Akkikuyu listen,’ she said at last.

Mr Nep first looked down at his feet, then twiddled his thumbs and wiped his face in embarrassment. Finally he blurted out, ‘Can you make it rain?’ It was not what Madame Akkikuyu had expected and she was dumbstruck for a few moments. But Mr Nep babbled on: ‘Oh . . . we’re so desperate! You’ve shown yerself to be wise in the craft of healing, so some of us set to thinkin’ that mebbe you had other . . . skills. There, I’ve said it.’ The rat considered him for a while and said, ‘You want rain magic? Akkikuyu no witch or cloud-dancer – she healer.’

Mr Nep looked aghast. ‘Oh, I have offended you. Please, no such insult was meant. It’s just that even the pool is getting low in water now and well – we’re getting very worried.’

Madame Akkikuyu smiled. She liked it when the fieldmice came to her for assistance. A warm tingle shot up her tail and she puffed out her chest. She rubbed her tattooed ear thoughtfully and told Mr Nep, ‘Akkikuyu try – no promise.’

‘Oh thank you,’ he said, his face relaxing, ‘I’ll tell my Nellie, she’ll be so relieved. We don’t know what we’d do if it weren’t fer you.’ Mr Nep scampered back to his nest.

‘A difficult promise to keep,’ came a soft whisper.

The rat jumped in surprise.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ her tattoo continued.

‘You . . . you heard, Nico?’ ventured the fortune-teller nervously.

The voice of Nicodemus mocked her. ‘Oh yes, I heard. You want to help these little creatures by bringing rain to them.’ The voice suddenly changed and became full of anger. ‘How dare you give such promises! Who are you to offer them the power of nature? The power of life-giving rain is not yours to give, it is the province of we land spirits.’

‘Akkikuyu only want to help poor mouseys,’ she whined.

The tattoo snarled back, ‘Don’t bother to lie, I know you Akkikuyu – perhaps better than you do yourself. I can see into your soul, and you wish to rule these poor fieldmice.’

‘No,’ she protested immediately, ‘I likes them.’

‘Twist and turn all you like but you cannot escape the truth. You want them to become dependent on you – to run to you for the slightest thing until they are your subjects, enslaved to your evil will.’

Madame Akkikuyu sobbed. ‘That false. I not like that, mouseys know – they love Akkikuyu; she their friend.’

‘You have no friends,’ snapped Nicodemus savagely. ‘Put your trust in me alone. The mice are using you – can you not see that? They take from you all the time, what do they give in return? Nothing.’

The fortune-teller fled from the Hall. But at the edge of the ditch Madame Akkikuyu sat down and wept. ‘I like mouseys,’ she blubbed through her great salty tears.

‘Then give them the rain you promised,’ muttered Nicodemus.

‘I can’t,’ she wailed unhappily. ‘Akkikuyu not powerful enough. Mouseys will laugh at me and say I cheap trickster.’

‘You should have thought of that before,’ scolded the voice.

‘Nico,’ she began, ‘Nico, can you not make it rain? Only tiny bit, not much?’

‘But I have already told you,’ said Nicodemus sternly, ‘until I am freed I can do nothing. My powers are useless!’

‘Then Akkikuyu is washed up – mouseys not believe in her any more.’

The soft voice in her ear whispered to itself and the painted eyes closed meditatively. ‘There may be a way,’ the voice began slowly. The rat sat up, excited and eager.

‘Tell me quick,’ she insisted. ‘Akkikuyu will help, best she can.’

Nicodemus sounded uncertain. ‘Are you ready though?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘What is required might make you tremble.’

‘Akkikuyu not afraid,’ she affirmed and to prove it she flourished the dead frog from her bag: ‘See, I bring this, like Nico ask.’

‘I asked for it yesterday, Akkikuyu, yet this creature has been dead for more than three days. Do you think you can trick me?’

‘No . . .’ she answered feebly, letting the dried frog clatter down the steep bank and smash on the stones below.

‘I must have absolute obedience, Akkikuyu,’ demanded the voice. ‘Absolute! Do you understand?’

‘Yes Nico!’

‘Then swear – on your soul – to obey me in all things.’

‘I . . . I . . .’

‘Swear!’

‘Akkikuyu . . . Akkikuyu swear – on soul.’ She hung her head and said no more. The tattoo smiled an unpleasant, triumphant grin.

‘Excellent,’ resumed Nicodemus, ‘now we may proceed. The essence of rain lies in the invocation of two elements, air and water. As I am trapped you must work the spell for me. I shall tell you what to do and let us hope some rain will fall.’ The voice dropped to a low whisper as Nicodemus said, ‘For these elements we must use symbols to call upon the necessary forces – if I was there I could do it myself.’

‘Symbols?’ asked the fortune-teller detecting something sinister in the whispered tone. ‘What symbols?’

‘Something which represents the elements,’ said the voice. ‘For water a fish will be most suitable.’

‘And for air?’

‘A bird,’ declared the tattoo wickedly. ‘At the bottom of the field in the hedge you will find a blackbird’s nest. Bring the bird back here.’

‘Alive?’ asked Akkikuyu hopefully.

Nicodemus just laughed at her.

Madame Akkikuyu set off for the hedge in misery. Would her triumph in getting the rain to fall be worth the life she was about to take? At the hedge she peered up into its dark, brambly depths. It was quite difficult to see anything in there at all at night time, but eventually she discovered it. Gingerly the rat squeezed through the thorns and began to climb.

The blackbird was still and silent, its feathers were fluffed out and the tiny bead-like eyes were firmly closed. Only its gentle heart beat stirred its breast.

Madame Akkikuyu pulled herself up and looked at the bird fearfully. She thought about what she had to do and her heart beat faster. The bird looked so peaceful that tears sprang to her eyes again.

‘I cannot,’ she whispered hoarsely.

‘You must,’ came the voice in her ear. ‘One swift blow and the creature will be dead. It will feel nothing! Think of your mouse friends and the rain you can bring them.’

So Madame Akkikuyu slowly raised a quivering claw and shakily drew the bone out of her hair. Then, closing her eyes tightly she brought it crashing down on the nest.

At the ditch she lit a fire under her pot and pushed the feathery body into the bubbling water. And now, a fish, Akkikuyu,’ ordered Nicodemus, not letting her think too long about what she had done.

So the fortune-teller went to the still pool and stared long at the dark water, taking no notice of the grim reflection that gazed back at her with accusing eyes. Suddenly a string of tiny bubbles rose to the surface. With a great SPLASH she smacked her claw down and scooped out a spout of water. Within it a little fish was wriggling. As she caught it in her other claw Nicodemus said to her, ‘Well done – but listen Akkikuyu, do you hear?’

The fortune-teller stood still and waited. A faint croaking was just audible amid the rustle of the hawthorn leaves.

On Nicodemus’ instruction she crept round to a clump of water iris in time to see a small brown frog leap into sight and hop away from the pool.

‘Catch it!’ screamed Nicodemus. ‘We still need one and this will be fresh.’ Madame Akkikuyu ran after the little frog and pounced on it.

Breathlessly she made her way back to the ditch and her bubbling pot. Hurriedly she dropped the fish into the boiling potion and repeated the spell after Nicodemus.

‘Here me, folk that dwell in the spaces between the stars,’ he began. ‘I abjure all light, darken the sky, bring down the rain – in the name of Nachteg I command it, for you know who I am.’

There was a silence and the rat looked up expectantly. But the tattoo said, ‘Now you must kiss the frog, Akkikuyu, and the spell shall be complete.’

Grimly Madame Akkikuyu returned to the edge of the ditch and picked up the limp, slimy body. She gritted her teeth and kissed its head.

Nicodemus sighed and the first spots of rain pattered down.

In the Hall of Corn the fieldmice were disturbed in their sleep. They nuzzled and snuggled deep into their moss beds but could not escape the incessant drumming overhead. One by one the mice were roused from their beds and popped their heads out of their nests to see what the noise was.

‘Rain!’ they cried out with glee. ‘It’s raining! Hooray!’

They abandoned their nests and danced around in the Hall with their faces upturned.

Mr Nep gasped in wonder at the miracle, woke his wife and went down to tell everyone. ‘It’s the rat lady! I asked her to make it rain and she has! What a marvel she is. We must go and thank her.’ The fieldmice joyously trooped out of the Hall to find Madame Akkikuyu. The door guards went with them.

Sleepily, Audrey leant out to see what the fuss was. A large drop of rain fell with a
plop
on her nose. She wiped it off and looked into the drizzling sky.

‘Hello dear,’ said Mrs Scuttle, descending the ladder close by. ‘My, what a wonder! Everyone’s saying that your rat woman has made it rain. They’ve all gone to find her – imagine. Elijah and I are going to follow them – I don’t think I’ll sleep any more tonight and it will be light soon.’ She let the rain fall on her gladly. ‘Oh it seems like years since the last drop we had. Are you coming?’

Audrey shook her head. Here was another feather for Madame Akkikuyu’s cap. Wearily she sighed, ‘Give her my regards – but I’m going back to bed.’

‘Oh well, you know best dear.’

At the ditch they found Madame Akkikuyu beaming broadly. Her potion pot was now empty and the fire was out.

‘Mouseys,’ she welcomed, throwing open her claws. ‘Akkikuyu bring rain as promise.’

‘Astounding,’ cried Mr Nep shaking her by the claw vigorously, ‘truly wondrous – well done.’ Everyone joined in to praise her, until Madame Akkikuyu flushed with pleasure.

But the celebrations were short-lived. The rain suddenly stopped.

‘Won’t be no more rain out of that sky,’ said Old Todmore, examining the heavens.

He was right. The magic rain shower had finished and Madame Akkikuyu shook her head in dismay – it certainly wasn’t worth the murders she had committed that night.

‘That spot o’ water won’t have done much good at all,’ observed one mouse sorrowfully. ‘Ground’s too dry to soak it up. It’s not long afore sunrise an’ all that rain’ll steam off soon. Bah – darned waste o’ time.’

The Fennywolders tutted sadly. All their high hopes had been dashed. Now they felt more flat and miserable than ever. All agreed however that Madame Akkikuyu had done her best, better than any of them could have done, but this didn’t get them anywhere.

Madame Akkikuyu glanced at the tattoo on her ear but Nicodemus was silent – it was too near daybreak for him. She wondered if he had known how short the shower would be. She left the mice and sat by herself on the steep bank and cried regretfully.

Young Whortle was making his way through the field when dawn’s grey light crept over Fennywolde. He was a heavy sleeper and was surprised to find himself alone in the nest that morning. He knew nothing of Madame Akkikuyu’s rain-making and none of the others had returned yet.

He had gone through the great door wondering where Grommel and the other guard had got to.

‘Funny,’ he said to himself, ‘where they all gone then?’ He put his paws behind his back and began to hum a jolly tune. He felt much better now and his shoulders only gave him an occasional twinge. Secretly he hoped that he would have scars like Mr Scuttle, as proof of his bravery.