The Second Wave (14 page)

When in sight of the Temple Tree she stopped, hid herself and watched what was happening.  She saw Rusty run down the trunk and across the ground, hug her skinny son to her and then, seeing Crag approaching, push Chip away and begin to scold him unconvincingly.  ‘Why did you go away with those Blasphemers?’ she asked.  ‘Your father and I were most upset.  Come on into the Temple and repent of your sins.’

Chip, now alert to such things, had detected a note of warmth in her voice and followed her meekly.

As he went he heard his father issuing instructions to the Greys that ‘the chit’ was to be watched at all times.  The broken-toothed female appointed guards.

Inside the Temple Chip could see that there was much more metal than when he had last been here – the main trunk was nearly full and the hollow secondary trunk, which grew away from the main tree like a squirrel’s tail from its body, was also being filled.  There were many more Greys too – others must have arrived from the north.  They were all busy, either bringing in metal or stowing the plundered nuts in the hollows and crevices of upper limbs.  Ivy offered him a nut, but he refused it.

Later, when it was dark and Crag had said the familiar words of the Evening Prayer, Chip tried to slip away, but every exit was blocked by an alert grey squirrel.

He sought out his mother’s sleeping place and tried to join her, but she pushed him away.  He could sense his father’s disapproval.

‘None of your blasphemous behaviour here.  This is a Temple of the Sun,’ the harsh voice came out of the darkness.  Chip went back to his sleeping place and lay there, rigid and cold, thinking of the warmth of his friends’ dreys.  He yearned to feel Tansywistful’s warm body snug against his.

Tansy was awake, wondering what her young friend was doing.  She knew from her own experience and from Chip’s descriptions,  just how it would be in the Temple Tree.  She tried to think of some way of getting him back.  In the morning she would have another look at the Temple Tree, if she could avoid Crag and the Greys.  As she lay there, thoughts of her family and her friends on Ourland crept up on her and she again felt an agonising guilt that she had not been able to do more to get help to them.  There was nothing
she
could do, she told herself, unless Marguerite and the others could be persuaded to assist her.  In the meantime that funny youngster needed her.

Eventually she fell asleep, to awake in the darkness, overcome by marten-dread, and she lay shivering until dawn.

Neither Spindle nor Wood Anemone had slept, each sure that their indiscretion had resulted in the raid by the Greys, but neither could speak of it to the other.

Marguerite was trying to find some way of reconciling her desire to help Tansy with her duty as a parent and as Tagger to the Blue Pool community.  She had discussed her dilemma with her friend Dandelion, who told her that her life-mate, Alder the Leader, was adamant that Marguerite must put her duty to the community first.  He had led them all to the Blue Pool and they needed to stay together as a strong unit, especially as there was now an obvious threat from the unpredictable Greys and the strange Red, Crag.  Should she insist on a Council Meeting to discuss it all openly?

The following morning was clear and bright, with frost crystals sparkling on the pine needles as Tansy slipped quietly through the branches towards the Temple Tree.  A party of Greys passed under her, noisily heading for the pool and more ‘Bounty’.  She crouched on a high branch until they were out of sight, then went on even more cautiously.

Greys were leaving the Temple Tree, each group heading in a different direction.  These, she assumed, were metal-hunting parties.

When she reached a pine tree where she could overlook the clearing in which the Temple Tree stood, she could see that some Greys had been left on guard.  Seven or eight of the biggest were either patrolling the ground near the tree or were in an upright and alert stance close to the entrances to the hollow.  She settled down in a dense clump of pine needles to watch.

As the sun got higher, the patrolling by the Greys slowed down, but she saw the activity intensify when Crag the Temple Master appeared at one of the holes and came down the trunk, followed by even more Greys.  They left, heading eastwards, Crag dominating the larger and more powerful grey squirrels.  Another party left, heading north, led by the broken-toothed female.

Tansy continued her silent watch.

It was nearly High Sun and several parties of Greys had come and gone when she saw Chip emerge from the highest of the holes in the Temple Tree, with a red female that she knew must be his mother.  She watched as the two climbed one of the spiky dead top branches of the stag-headed oak.  They clung there, whispering to one another.

Tansy in the pine and the Greys on the ground were watching them and listening, trying to overhear what was being said, but Chip and Rusty kept their voices low.

‘Your father will be furious if he knows that we have been talking like this,’ Rusty whispered, looking fearfully down at the patrolling squirrels.

‘That’s just what I mean.  We can’t live our entire lives in fear of what Crag-Pa will say.’

‘But if we don’t do as he says, it will be the Sunless Pit for us both – for ever.’

‘Do you really believe there is such a place?’ Chip asked.  ‘Tansywistful’ doesn’t.  She says it was invented in the old days by the ‘Nobles’ to make lesser squirrels obey them.’

‘How would she know?’ Rusty asked, ‘She’s only a young squirrel herself.’  She was about to tell her son about the dreadful night and the day of darkness when he interrupted.

‘At the Blue Pool they – we – they all discuss things, you can say anything you want to and the others will listen to what you say and tell you
their
ideas.  It’s ever so interesting.  Everything is shared.’

‘What does ‘shared’ mean?’ Rusty asked, keeping a watchful eye for Crag’s return, hoping he wouldn’t come back for a while.

Chip explained this concept as best he could, then tried to explain ‘Love’.

‘All the squirrels ‘love’ one another.  They help each other whenever they can.  Even when they disagree about something and quarrel, they soon make it up because they don’t like seeing their friends upset.’  He had then to explain ‘friends’ to a puzzled Rusty.

‘But what about sins?’ she asked.

‘They don’t have them.  All the things that Crag-Pa calls sins they do all the time, and they don’t feel bad about them.’  He described snugging up and comfort and warmth to his increasingly perturbed mother.

‘Don’t you think that their way seems more natural?’ Chip asked.

‘I don’t know about this ‘natural’. We’ve
always
done things the way your father told us to.’  However, she let her mind relax enough to remember the feeling of warmth and rightness she’d had when she’d cuddled her young son when he was a dreyling, so long, long ago.

‘What about these untrue stories that they tell, that upset your father so?’ she asked, after looking round the clearing again.

‘Tansywistful says that stories don’t have to be true as long as every squirrel knows them to be ‘stories’.  They are sometimes just for fun and sometimes they have messages in them which you have to work out.’  He tried to explain ‘fun’.

‘We’d better go down,’ Rusty said.  ‘Your father will be back soon.’

Entering the hollow of the tree by the highest hole, Rusty allowed her paw to rest momentarily on her son’s shoulder.  He was right, it did feel natural.

Tansy, across the clearing, watched them go in out of her sight, waited a little while longer and then went back to the Blue Pool.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Old Oak was feeling nauseous.  There was an overwhelming scent of decay filling the Bunker.  Each squirrel knew that it came from the decaying body of Fern, buried In the powdery punkwood at the back of the hollow, but, out of respect for Oak’s feelings, none had openly remarked on it.  Now, with the temperature rising whenever sunshine heated the hollow tree, it could no longer be ignored.  Oak called a Council Meeting.

‘My fellow squirrels,’ he began, ‘we have been through much hardship and danger together and I have valued your support.  Now, though, since my life-mate Fern has gone Sunwards, I am increasingly feeling my age and do not believe that I can give the leadership you all deserve.’

He paused and there was a murmur of concern from the others.

‘We are virtually out of food, the air in the Bunker is getting sour and soon we will have to leave, despite the danger from the marten outside.  I just don’t feel up to taking the responsibility of leading you. My brain is tired and I can no longer think as clearly as I used to.  I propose to stand down and help you to select a new Council Leader.’  He slumped back, exhausted by the strain of this long speech and the relief of having at last given up what had become an impossible burden to him.

The squirrels waited.  There were no real precedents for a Leader standing down.  Clover the Carer and Tagger fumbled in her mind for a Kernel to help guide them.  All she found was –

In any crisis

A Leader’s first duty is –

To keep hope alive.

But this did not seem appropriate, though the need to keep hope alive was apparent enough.  Could
I
be Leader? she asked herself, then dismissed the idea.  It was hard enough combining the duties of Tagger and Carer.  She was training the two ex-princesses Voxglove and Cowzlip to take over the Caring role and they were learning fast, but it would be a long time before she could let them carry on without her help.

She looked around at the assembled squirrels sitting expectantly in the dim light waiting for someone to propose something.

Chestnut the Doubter for Leader? she wondered.  If they appointed him, he wouldn’t believe it and his attitude was always negative anyway.  A Leader must be positive!

Chestnut’s life-mate - Heather Treetops?  She would like the honour, as she always boasted that her ancestors were noble squirrels, but she had never shown real depth and, though prepared to criticise others, she had few ideas of her own.

What about her own life-mate Larch the Curious?  She smiled to herself.  Fond as she was of him, he was far too impetuous, and his insatiable curiosity often overtook caution.  That wouldn’t do in a Leader.

She ran her eye round the circle of squirrels, dismissing the ex-zervantz; they had little concept of action other than doing what they were told.

Ex-prince Fir was sickly, probably as a result of the inbreeding of the Royal family, but Just Poplar looked strong enough.  Of course.  He was the natural choice!

Without further hesitation Clover said, ‘I propose Just Poplar to be our new Leader.’

Poplar looked uncomfortable and said, ‘It’z lezz than a year zinze uz became King and uz gave that up at wonz, not liking the thingz uz would have to do.  Uz don’t think that uz’z a zuitable squirrel to be a Leader.’

Each squirrel remembered how Poplar had abdicated and given up all his titles, privileges and duties to become Just Poplar and how relaxed he had seemed after that.  But then they thought how helpful and friendly he had been to every squirrel since then and his Royal background still gave him an air of authority.  Looking at each other, they seemed to decide, as one, that he
would
make an excellent new Leader and there was a clamour of approval.

‘Poplar for Leader, Poplar, Poplar.’

One of the ex-zervantz called, ‘Long Live King Poplar’, but was glowered into silence by the others.

After listening to the acclaim, Poplar raised his tail.  ‘If it iz the wish of yew all, then uz acceptz.  However, there will be no talk of ‘King’ Poplar.  Uz do not care for titles, uz do not even want a tag other than the won uz have been comfortable with.  Uz’ll only agree if uz can continue to be ‘Juzt Poplar’.’

A little forest of raised tails indicated unanimous acceptance.

Clover breathed a sigh of relief and Old Oak slumped further as he felt the burden he had carried for so long transfer to younger shoulders.

‘Uz muzt make planz,’ Just Poplar announced, and, as Oak moved out of the Leader’s place, he moved across to occupy it.

Peafowl, peafowl, peafowl!  Blood was sick of peafowl.  There were only eight females left now, plus the big old cock bird with the long tail.  I must go and find a squirrel, or at least a rabbit, he thought.  He was still puzzled by the mysterious disappearance of the squirrels.  Occasionally he caught a whiff of squirrel-scent on the breeze, but never enough for him to track down their hiding place.

He came out of the church into the brightness, blinked and looked about him.  Despite the sunshine, he knew that winter was not yet over and that snow and bitter winds could return at any time.  Honeysuckle leaves were showing bright green, but no other new vegetation had yet dared to emerge.  He climbed a bare-branched oak-tree and scented the air.  Ducks and sea birds in the lagoon. That fishy scent was probably from the cormorants who were drying their outspread wings in the sunshine.  No – he wanted mammal-meat today.  Even a mouse would be welcome.  Two mice, or three, would be better still.

Blood leapt from tree to tree above the swamp, watching the ground but not following any particular route, then, thinking that he was more likely to find live, warm-blooded mammals away from the bog-pools, he turned southwards towards the neglected and overgrown fields.  It would have to be rabbit – some would be out in the open today.

He stopped suddenly, just as he was about to leap for the next tree.  Squirrel-scent was rising from below to tickle his nostrils and make his mouth water.  He clung to the branch testing the air.  This was not normal squirrel-scent – this was dead squirrel-scent, long dead squirrel-scent.  He went slowly down the trunk.

Below him was a willow tree that leaned out over a pool of dark water and mud.  He dropped on to the sloping trunk.  The scent was stronger now and there was a touch of live squirrel in it – not fresh, a few days old at least.  He prowled along the trunk, scratching at the bark and sniffing.  Where was that scent coming from?  There were no holes visible and yet the scent was clearly coming from inside.  It must be hollow.  He went to the foot of the tree and looked up.  There was a hole on the underside, above the water and mud.  So that was where the squirrels had been hiding for so long!  No wonder he hadn’t found them.