The Rogue Crew (16 page)

With the arrival of the column, there was consternation amongst the shrews and lizards at the sight of Crumdun, the captive stoat, being led on a rope. Empraking Dibby was first to complain.

“Vermin, vermin—take it out an' slay it!”

Dukwina twitched a paw at him. “Dibby, dearest, d'ye want me to treat your ear again? No? Then hold your tongue an' go an' help the cooks.” The king went off nursing his ear, muttering sulkily, “S'not fair. It's Vigbil's turn. I did it yesterday!”

Dukwina ignored him, beckoning to the hares of the column who had newly arrived. “Come in, sit ye down—you two, sit by me!”

Ferrul and Buff Redspore, whom she had indicated, did as they were bade. There was an immediate hurry to serve them with drinks before the rest.

Rake Nightfur murmured aside to Miggory, “Looks like the lassies rule the roost here, mah friend.”

The craggy-featured sergeant shrugged. “Ye could be right, sah, but h'I ain't sayin' nothin' 'cos h'I don't want t'get me h'ear twisted.”

Lancejack Sage, whom the queen had not previously noticed, called out eagerly at the arrival of the food, “I say, chaps, that scoff looks jolly scrumptious!”

Dukwina waved a paw at the haremaid. “Then we shall have to see that you get lots of it. Come and sit over here with us, missy.”

The food was excellent. There was a savoury cress and seaweed soup, as well as dishes of chopped acorn, hazelnut and wild celery garnished with a fresh late-spring salad. The bread was warm and crusty, with a hint of sorrel to it. Apart from hawthorn and buttercup cheese, there was a steaming whortleberry pudding with sweet arrowroot sauce. Cool mint tea was served constantly.

Drander, the biggest of the young hares, proclaimed after his second helping of pudding, “Oh, whacko! This is the stuff t'give a chap, eh wot?”

Flutchers, who was tucking in with a will, agreed. “Rather, better'n the flippin' mess vittles at Salamandastron, I'd say, old lad!”

Seated beside the queen, Ferrul called to Flutchers, “I heard that! Did ye know that Mess Cook Sergeant Frawler is my uncle? Shall I tell him what you said when we get back, old lad?”

Dukwina smiled at Ferrul's quick reply. She patted the haremaid's paw. “Well done, my dear. Just look at the face on your friend now. . . .”

Still smiling, she turned her attention to the captain. “What clever young maids you have in your patrol. Perhaps you could spare them to join me at my court for a season. It would please me greatly.”

Rake Nightfur returned her smile, assuming that her request was merely a joke. He countered politely, “Och, Ah'm sure it'd please mah lassies, too, marm, but we're on a mission, ye ken, an' they've their duties tae attend.”

Dukwina's eyes hardened momentarily, then she chuckled. “I understand, Captain.”

She waved an imperious paw at her minions.

“Some music, singin' an' dancing for our guests. Dibby, bring out my special wine for them—quickly, now!”

Drums began a slow, muffled beat as an octet of young crested newts danced sinuously. In the background, a pygmy shrewmaid choir hummed soft harmonies.

Corporal Welkin, who was seated behind Scutram and the captain, leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “I've noticed somethin' since I h'arrived 'ere. The chaps are the ones who does all the runnin' an' servin', bowin' an' scrapin', y'might say. But the ladies, they just sits about enjoyin' theirselves h'an givin' out h'orders.”

Lieutenant Scutram put aside his platter. “Top marks. I've noticed that meself, doncha know. What d'ye think, Cap'n?”

The tall hare answered without taking his eyes off the dancers. “Aye, Ah think the same mahsel'. Yon wee queen's a force tae be reckoned with. Weel, now. Here comes a dram o' the special wine, an' will ye look who's servin' et!”

Empraking Dibby waddled up bearing a tray with a crystal decanter surrounded by an array of beautifully crafted cherrywood goblets. Pouring out the first, he passed the goblet of purple-tinted liquid to the captain.

Leaning close, Dibby whispered, “Drink that an' ye won't waken for a day or two, rabbet, be warned. She's out to steal your maids!”

Smiling cordially, Rake raised his drink, calling across to the queen, “A toast tae yer very guid health, Majesty!”

He murmured a swift aside to Miggory. “Dinnae drink this wine—pass the word on.”

Scutram lifted the goblet, watching keenly over its rim. “I say, look! There's a shrewmaid servin' the queen an' her cronies from another tray!”

Corporal Welkin was equally vigilant. “Aye, an' that queen's servin' our gels from ole Dibby's tray. Oh, corks, h'an they're suppin' it, too, sah!”

Miggory made a pretence of drinking from his goblet. “H'aint nothin' t'be done about that fer now, Corp. We'll just 'ave to 'ope for the best!”

The choir began singing a tranquil song that was almost a lullaby, soothing and melodious.

The drums beat softer, the choir subsided to a muted hum, the dancers folded gracefully into recumbent positions.

From beneath partially closed eyes, Captain Rake saw Buff, Sage and Ferrul curled up on the woven mats, fast asleep. Covering his lips with a paw, he spoke in an undertone to those closest to him. “Watch me. Follow mah lead.”

Stretching his paws, he blinked. Simulating a cavernous yawn, he apologised to Queen Dukwina. “Och, ye'll have tae pardon me, marm. Ah'm fair wearied an' feelin' the need tae sleep.”

Scutram put on a similar act in agreement. “D'ye know, sah, I think we're all ready for a jolly good old nap. Must be with trampin' through the sand all day, then tuckin' in to all that scrumptious fodder, wot!”

Dukwina gestured magnanimously. “Why not sleep right here? It's warm and the floor mats are easy enough to lie upon. I'll have some rugs brought for you all. Dibby, you and Vigbil get some rugs for our guests. Come on, stir yourselves. Can't you see they're tired?” The little empraking and his aide hurried to obey their overbearing queen.

The two pygmy shrews were covering the supposedly sleeping hares over with soft rugs when Wilbee whispered to the sergeant, “I say, Sarge, I think big Drander must've drunk that bloomin' stuff. He's snorin' away like a flippin' hog!”

Miggory muttered sternly as he peeked over at Drander. “The great wallopin' lump'ead. I'll deal with him later. Keep yore 'ead down, Master Wilbee, an' be quiet!”

The empraking knelt alongside Captain Rake, making a pretence of tucking him in as he spoke quietly. “As soon as the queen thinks you rabbets are unconscious, she'll have your maids moved out of here.”

Rake Nightfur spoke out the side of his mouth. “Where'll she take the lassies?”

Empraking Dibby moved close to Rake's ear. “Outside, to the left, it looks like an ordinary dune, but it's been built like this place. It's got a secret entrance which only Dukwina an' her cronies know about.”

Corporal Welkin had sharp ears. He had caught all the conversation, so he joined in. “Beg pardon, ole Majesty, but how'll she explain their disappearance, wot?”

Empraking Dibby fussed with the rug as he replied. “She doesn't need to. Once they're hidden away, she'll just come back in here an' sleep where she is now. She'll act as surprised as you when you see the maids are gone. I know her well. She'll say that they've probably gone on alone, an' the best course is for you to follow them. I must go now, before she gets suspicious. Good luck, Captain.”

After some moments had passed, Captain Rake felt a footpaw nudge him a few times. He lay inert, not moving a muscle. One of Dukwina's courtiers called out, “If they're all flat out like this one, Majesty, then there's no need to bother with any of these rabbets.”

The queen and a group of her helpers bundled the three haremaids, Sage, Ferrul and Buff Redspore, in rugs, rolling them up and dragging them off.

Through half-closed eyes, Miggory watched until they left the dwelling. “They're gone, sah. Wot's the next move?”

The tall, black-furred captain outlined a swift plan.

Young Trug Bawdsley, who was lying at the back of the others, hissed a warning. “Silence, chaps—be still now. They're comin' back!”

Dukwina strode in with her attendants in tow. She noticed the empraking and some other males settling down. “An' what, pray, are you idle beasts up to?”

Her husband answered meekly, “Just goin' to sleep, Dukky darling.”

She bustled over to him, paw jabbing the air. “Never mind Dukky darling. Have you cleaned all the dishes an' pots an' tidied up? No, you haven't! Don't you, or any of your idle good-for-nothing friends, even think of sleep until all the chores are done!”

The empraking and his little following scuttled off quickly.

Dukwina chuckled grimly as she and her ladies settled close to the ovens, wrapped in their rugs. “Keep them on their paws an' give them lots to do. Empraking, indeed! All Dibby an' his friends are good for is fetching, carrying, mopping an' dusting. Make them know their place, that's what I say!”

In the warmth and comfort of the dwelling, it would have been easy to relax and sleep. However, apart from big Drander, who was snoring gently, the hares of the Long Patrol lay awake, listening and watching Queen Dukwina and her retinue of pygmy shrews and sand lizards intently.

After what seemed a long while, Captain Rake moved into a crouch, issuing whispered orders. “They've all gone off tae sleep now. Flutchers, go an' keep that wee stoat quiet. Sergeant Miggory, collect up all the rugs. Scutram, Welkin, watch our backs. The rest o' ye follow me, wi' nae clankin' o' weapons, ye ken!”

Drawing both his claymores, the dark-furred captain crept like a night shadow toward the queen and her companions.

Earlier that day, whilst Captain Rake and his column were inside the Pygmy shrew dwelling being entertained, the storm broke out over the sea. Heralded by dull thunder and some forked lightning flashes, the purple-grey cloudbanks released a veritable deluge of rainwater. With winds prevailing westerly, the face of the deep became a scene of chaos. Foam-crested waves were lashed into a fury of mountains and troughs, battered by the incessant downpour.

Without sail, rudder or any means of propulsion other than branches broken from the pine trunk, the escapers were in real trouble.

Jum Gurdy was half in, half out of the water, trying to stop the log rolling over. Spitting seawater, he shouted above the din of the gale. “Throw those branches away, young uns. Try to stay in the middle of this thing, an' 'old on for dear life!”

Uggo and Posy were terror-stricken. They clutched each other and the pine bark, sobbing with fear. Never in their wildest imaginings had they ever witnessed the awesome force of a storm on the high seas. There was no controlling the log as it was swept further out from sight of land. Drenched and sodden to the spikes, the two young hedgehogs were sickened to their stomachs by the seesaw motion—first up on the high crest of a wave, then dropping swiftly down into a deep watery vale. Sometimes they would glance up from the trough to find themselves facing a wall of translucent blue-green water. Next moment would find them riding a foam-lathered wavecrest with nothing above them save an angry, purple-bruised sky.

It was at the top of such a wave that the log began to topple from end to end. Uggo and Posy screamed as they hung in midair for a brief moment, grabbing at the underside of the rolling pine. Trying to hold one end of the log from an underwater position, Jum saw them both slip into the sea. He struck out toward them with the dull, boiling boom of breaking waves above him.

Uggo and Posy had gone under, still hanging on to one another. The big old otter grabbed them both, hurling them back onto the log, which was just descending from another wavetop. They scrabbled onto the pine trunk, but Jum Gurdy was not so lucky. He was struck over the head by the log end.

The pine trunk careered wildly off to the northwest, skidding between the serried lines of rollers. Uggo and Posy clung to the branches, half crouching, half standing as they yelled, “Jum! Jum Gurdy! Juuuuuuummmmm!”