The Deptford Mice 3: The Final Reckoning (13 page)

‘We are all aware of that,’ said Heardred reproachfully, and a strange look passed between them as though this was a sore subject that had been fiercely debated.

Ashmere put his wing around Oswald and scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘It is difficult to describe to the uninitiated, but I shall try to explain.’ He cleared his throat and began, ‘When I was young a vision came unbidden to me. It is usual amongst our kind to send our spirits forward through time to see the future, but this did not happen then. I was flying through the velvet night and the song was sad and mournful, when I saw before me a snow-covered land and heard the Lady’s voice tell me that a mouse with pink eyes would save all. It was the only time I have heard her and never have I forgotten it. Then news came of Jupiter’s downfall and we saw him rise again and grow mighty. I think you are the one who can stop him.’

Oswald felt faint. He did not like the direction things were taking. ‘But I’m not brave,’ he protested. ‘I can’t fight or anything like that.’

‘It will not be anything like that,’ assured Ingeld sourly.

Heardred shuffled forward rubbing his wings together. ‘Whatever happens,’ he said, ‘it must be soon – there is little time left to us. It will not be long before Jupiter tries to use the squirrel queen’s Starglass and comes into his full power. Our blow must be before then.’

‘But what am I to do?’ asked Oswald. He was terrified at the thought of confronting Jupiter. ‘Let Ashmere tell him,’ sniped Ingeld, ‘it is his foolish hope.’

Ashmere lowered his voice and spoke kindly to Oswald. ‘I have said that the old ways are needed to deal with the foul spirit, and that none here have the skill or learning to exorcise him. Listen White One. Beneath this building there is a chamber where our forefathers kept their ancient writings in a book of lore. There you will find spells and prophecies from long ago; bring it to us and . . .’

‘Just a minute,’ broke in Oswald, ‘what do you mean I will find?’

‘Simple runt!’ cried Ingeld impatiently. ‘Your first task is to venture down through the narrow, blackened ways; we are not made for such crawling and groping – that is the rodent’s lot.’

‘Please,’ implored Ashmere, ‘we cannot make you, but for the sake of all creation you must find the spells that will banish Jupiter forever.’

Oswald looked into Ashmere’s eyes. They were anxious and pleading and he took courage from the confidence this ancient bat had in him: ‘Very well,’ he said meekly, ‘I shall go and find your book.’

Ashmere turned to the thousands of other bats and called out, ‘He will go! The pink-eyed one has accepted.’ Their cheers were tumultuous and roared round the dome. Oswald blushed and looked at his feet with embarrassment.

‘’It will fail,’ muttered Ingeld, shaking his head bitterly, ‘the Consort of the Lady knows this folly will end in disaster – we cannot escape our doom.’

But no-one heard him and he pulled his head into his wings.

‘Go now,’ said Ashmere quickly, ‘for all time is precious – we dare not waste any more.’ He turned to face the gallery and gave three sharp whistling squeaks. ‘The ones who brought you hither shall take you down into the crypt of this place but you must find the Book of Hrethel on your own. Take care, and may the grace of the Lady go with you.’

Two figures rose from the dark mass of bats and fluttered over to them. It was Orfeo and Eldritch. They approached the ledge of the elders and flew above the mouse.

‘Take him below and show him the entrance to the chamber,’ Heardred instructed them. ‘Come, Master Pink Eyes,’ laughed Orfeo, ‘fly with us once more.’

Oswald took hold of their feet and they lifted him from the ledge. The elders grimly watched them flit round the dome and descend to the floor hundreds of metres below.

Down they went, past the gilded keystones of the arches and the carved wooden cherubs frolicking around the splendid organ case. Oswald felt he could spend a whole week there admiring everything, but they swooped between two mighty columns and landed on the cold marble floor.

‘This way,’ said Eldritch hopping over to a great wooden door and popping inside. Beyond was a steep stairway, leading down into complete darkness. The two bats waited for Oswald and said to: him, ‘In yonder crypt there is no light, you will stumble and fall there.’

‘Master Pink Eyes,’ said Orfeo seriously, ‘my brother and I have decided to bestow upon you the gift of bat sight – for seven hours only you will see all as we do. You shall have the power to see “in the dark” as your folk would put it – yet that will not be the limit of the gift, for if you accept the vision of we moon riders then you must prepare yourself for anything that comes unbidden to you.’

‘Not lightly is this granted,’ Eldritch added, ‘for rarely do we allow the outsider into our secret, shaded world, and you have seen so much already, White One.’

‘Yet the actions we take this night will shape the lives of everyone,’ said Orfeo. ‘Let us begin if the mouse is willing – I shall be the lender.’

Oswald wondered excitedly what it would be like to be able to see as a bat. The night would no longer hold any fear for him, he would be able to pierce the shadows and lift the veil of darkness. ‘Yes, I’ll accept,’ he said breathlessly.

‘So be it,’ they replied.

The bats circled round him and raised their wings. Orfeo lifted his head and began to chant strange words and a crown of moonlight seemed to settle on his brow. At first Oswald thought it was a trick of the light falling through the great doorway but then a golden gleam formed in the bat’s eyes. It grew larger and brighter until they blazed and illuminated the entire stairway with their brilliance.

‘Oh my!’ exclaimed Oswald wondrously. He was delighted to see bat magic. Master Oldnose had often told old tales in which the bats were far more magical than they are now.

‘Take the gift,’ Eldritch’s voice whispered in his ear.

The mouse put out a trembling paw and touched Orfeo’s glowing face. The light that poured from his eyes was suddenly sucked along Oswald’s arm, bristling his fur as it went, then up into his head. For a second his ears were ringed with fire and sparks crackled beneath his eyebrows, then it was over and all light was extinguished as if nothing had happened.

‘What do you see?’ asked Eldritch softly.

Oswald blinked, his eyes watered and he rubbed them. Slowly he looked around. What a difference there was: the world was now a silvery grey, yet he could see everything quite clearly. There was Eldritch smiling at him and there was Orfeo. He appeared tired and worn; the granting of the gift had obviously taken a lot out of him. As Oswald peered round he discovered that nothing could escape his sight. He saw spiders spinning silken webs high above, teasing the sticky strands out of their bodies with their hairy legs. That was not all. To his amazement he found that if he concentrated hard enough the walls seemed to melt away and he could see into the next room, even outside. The mouse stared up and the rafters, joists, stones, plaster and lead dissolved and he saw the bat guards patrolling the sky. Oswald gazed to the south and the rooftops zoomed by. Over the river, through the houses, out to Deptford he bent his thoughts and the old empty house swelled up before him. Then down into the Skirtings where the Starwife was talking to Audrey and his mother was scolding his father and then out again, over the tower blocks, passing through the church until the power station loomed ahead cloaked in mist and two enormous, evil eyes stared straight at him . . .

‘Enough!’ cried Orfeo gasping. ‘I shall perish.’ He had slumped to the floor exhausted.

‘What have I done?’ asked Oswald, snapping his mind back beside the two bats.

Eldritch answered for his ailing brother. ‘You go too fast,’ he said. ‘The gift has been borrowed only. Orfeo has lent his sight to you and much of his strength also – you must be careful not to spend it wantonly and without purpose. Discipline the vision and use it like your own. Do not let it consume and rule you, keep it under control or it will run away with you and my brother will die.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Oswald hurriedly, ‘I never realized, I thought it was magic and could do anything.’

‘This is . . . but . . . an exchange,’ Orfeo wheezed painfully, ‘a talent we . . . possess. The true magic lies in the old chamber of Hrethel beneath the stones of this . . . building.’

‘Orfeo is right,’ Eldritch said briskly, ‘we waste time! My brother shall remain here – he will be no use to us down there. He will be as blind as a mouse. Come.’

Oswald said farewell to Orfeo and thanked him for the gift, then he began the long climb down the steps. He tried very hard to keep his mind on the task set for him and he had to use all his willpower to clamber down. How tempting it was to use his new, marvellous sight. He had only to think about it and he could see anything and look anywhere he desired. No secret would be hidden from him – ‘Oswald the sharp-sighted’ everyone would call him; they would gasp and say ‘However did you know that?’ It would be so easy to surrender and let his mind flit from here to there – he could even see his cousin Twit all the way in Fennywolde if he wished, nothing was too remote now. It was too much for him to bear, to be given this astounding vision and not be allowed to use it fully. Suddenly he remembered the drawn, haggard look on Orfeo’s face and all thoughts of wasting the sight trickled away – he did not want to make the bat suffer on his behalf. Oswald put his head down and got on with the job of getting down the stairs.

At the bottom Eldritch was waiting for him.

‘Hurry,’ he whispered, ‘this way,’ and half jumping, half flying, the bat raced off.

The crypt was a gloomy place, even though Oswald could see. The ceiling was vaulted and frayed banners hung like chained ghosts. Before him Oswald saw huge figures couched on marble slabs frozen in attitudes of peaceful sleep. For a moment he thought they were alive but soon realized that they, too were made of stone. There were many of these frightening effigies and the mouse began to wonder if he would be better off without Orfeo’s gift. The still, silent statues were creepy and he did not like turning his back on them just in case they came to life and sneaked up behind him.

Eldritch came bounding back impatiently, ‘Do not delay, we must press on,’ he said urgently.

‘What is this?’ Oswald asked. ‘Who are all those people there?’

‘This is a place where the dead are laid. The great and glorious are here: warriors, philosophers, artists and the vastly wealthy. All their efforts, hopes, conquests, labours and dreams are meaningless now – they lie in their crumbling dust, dumb, and powerless. Death is the grand master of all – no-one escapes him.’

‘Except Jupiter,’ put in Oswald quietly.

‘Just so, now follow me,’ Eldritch set off again and the mouse went after him not wanting to be left alone with the morbid marble portraits.

Over smooth tiles and brass name plates smelling of metal polish the two figures leapt. The crypt was like a warren, with openings and avenues leading off, but Orfeo ran along the central area, past a high, black sarcophagus and over to the whitewashed wall.

‘Somewhere, somewhere here,’ muttered Eldritch patting the base of the wall with his wings. ‘The entrance was here, pray it has not been sealed over.’

Oswald stood back and watched the bat grope and stroke the stone. ‘When was the last time you came down here?’ he asked.

‘It has been many years since any of my kin ventured into the chamber of Hrethel – we abandoned the old ways long ago but no bat may cross this threshold and survive.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Oswald growing nervous. ‘Is there something wrong with the chamber?’ Eldritch did not reply and concentrated on searching for the entrance. Oswald repeated his question, greatly worried. The bat shrugged and did not turn round, there was something he was hiding.

‘If I’m going down there I want to know,’ said Oswald crossly but as he frowned at the bat his new sight began to show him strange things. A hunched, wizened winged creature was revealed to him. It was huddled over a great book in a dark room and a cruel sneer was on its face. Oswald felt afraid: he did not know what was unfolding before his eyes but a dreadful shudder ran through him. The evil-looking bat turned the pages of the book and threw back his head in wild, mad laughter.

Eldritch stiffened, sensing what the mouse was seeing. He whirled round and shook Oswald roughly. ‘Come back White One,’ he cried and the albino put his paw to his reeling head.

‘What did I see?’ he stammered, clutching the wall to support his wobbling legs.

‘That was Hrethel,’ replied the bat with a quivering voice. ‘Long ago he was the Warden of the Great Book. It was the most powerful position in our order. Our forefathers were strong then and wielded the power of the book to maintain their position.’ Eldritch’s eyes grew moist and he averted his gaze almost from shame. ‘But Hrethel was not worthy – he was a tyrant and the book became his private tool. He neglected his lesser duties and no longer attended the councils, withdrawing to his underground chamber, weaving spells about the threshold, denying access to any other. It took all the knowledge my ancestors had to destroy him. Many were slain and their skill passed from this world. Hrethel perished but the charms on the threshold survived and no-one could retrieve the Great Book. We took a different road then and left the old ways behind, believing that if they had spawned Hrethel then they may spawn another like him. It is better to live humbly than to rule with fear, that is the lesson my grand sires learnt, and we have never regretted it. Hrethel was a crazed monster and we do not speak of him. Now you know all our secrets White One,’ he sighed, ‘is there nought you will not worm from us? Go, the entrance is found. Pass through and bring us the Great Book.’