The Siege of White Deer Park (16 page)

‘Perhaps.’

‘Don’t worry, I shan’t upset anything of your “game”. And now I’ll leave you to your subterranean explorations. I’m for a warmer place. Who knows’ – and now Adder was talking to himself as much as to Fox – ‘perhaps my heart will benefit from it.’

Fox and Vixen discussed the underground theory with their kindred. Friendly and Russet, Charmer and Ranger, Whisper, Pace and Rusty had no knowledge that was of any use. Ranger volunteered to consult Trip and the other foxes in the Park. Meanwhile Weasel talked to his own kind whilst Leveret spoke to his cousins the rabbits. All of the inquiries drew a blank. Then the other badgers in the Reserve were brought in. All of them were of the opinion that none of the sets they knew about had entrances or tunnels wide enough to admit a creature the size of the Cat.

The Cat itself, since its last hunting spree, was lying low
in more than one sense. But it was about to replenish its stores of food. At the time when its hunger dictated, it emerged from its new lair. The night was dark. There was no moon, and clouds completely obscured the heavens. The Cat was well aware the animals expected another strike in the same neighbourhood. So it avoided that and slunk through the shadows on its noiseless way towards the stream. But not to where the stream ran past its old lair in the bank. Another lower reach of the water was its objective.

The Cat was a good swimmer and it decided now to explore the food potential not only of the banks, but of the water itself. It caught a couple of unsuspecting water-voles, hooked out some small fish, and completely obliterated a family of coots on their midstream nest. But it was not satisfied. It was disappointed in this aquatic hunt, and a few frogs made very little difference to its appetite. As the sky began to lighten, the Cat loped back towards its den, determined to snatch itself something more substantial on the way.

The Reserve seemed deserted. The animals were still spending most of their time out of sight. The Cat stopped dead, thinking of the taste of deer flesh. Its mouth watered. But it was too late now. The first signs of dawn were in the sky. It padded back, angry and frustrated, to its den. The next night it meant to eat deer again. At the entrace to its lair it roared its anger to the cowering inhabitants of the Park. The roar rose in pitch and finished in an unearthly scream that carried far beyond the boundaries of the Reserve. The Warden of White Deer Park woke in his bed, dressed hurriedly, snatched his gun and a torch and ran from the house. He stayed near the deer herd until broad day, but he saw nothing.

That night Mossy had decided to travel one of his tunnels that led into Badger’s set. It was a passage that had been often trodden by his father. He began to call to Badger in between snacks of earthworms which he collected as he went along. Badger did not reply, so Mossy settled down for a proper feast. Eating was such an absorbing pastime for a mole that, by the time he dropped into the set, Mossy had no idea it was nearly daybreak.

Badger had returnd from a half-hearted foraging trip and was preparing himself for a snooze. But when Mossy appeared, he was delighted to postpone it.

‘Mole! Just the fellow I’ve been thinking about,’ was the greeting. ‘Adder came to see me and – you won’t guess! – he has the idea that the Cat is living underground like us.’

Mossy gave a cry of alarm but Badger soon reassured him.

‘It’s all nonsense,’ he said. ‘How could it do so? There’s no hole big enough. I told Adder that, but you know Adder.’

Mossy did not. He had never associated with the snake in a personal way, nor did he want to. He did not like snakes at all and could not understand how Badger had made a friend of one. However, he was about to make a remark on the existence of a very large hole he had heard about, when there was a deafening roar. Both Mossy and Badger froze. Mossy’s blood nearly curdled in his veins as the scream rent the outside air. The vibrations of the terrible sound seemed to echo through the maze of passages surrounding them. They turned to each other.

‘The Beast!’ they whispered together.

‘That must be its h-hunting c-call,’ Mossy stammered.

‘I hope all our friends are safely at home,’ said Badger. ‘What a horrible cry.’

When Mossy had recovered himself he remembered what he had been going to say. ‘The hole,’ he said, and then had to stop again. He was still quivering.

‘The hole?’

‘Yes. My mother –’ Poor Mossy broke off again. He had started to explain that his mother Mirthful had told him of a great hole. Then he recalled that Mirthful could not be his mother, as far as Badger was concerned. Mirthful had been his father’s mate. He hesitated. Now what could he say? It was
so
awkward.

‘Your mother,’ Badger prompted him. ‘I’ve never known you to mention your mother before, Mole.’

‘Er – no. What I mean is, the – er – female you called Mirthful – she – er – she told me that there
is
a great chamber underground in the Reserve. She came across it by accident once. She thought it was something the humans must have made.’

Badger drew his breath in sharply. ‘Is this true?’ he almost snapped at Mossy. All other considerations were forgotten now.

‘Yes, quite true. I assure you, Badger.’

‘Where? Where is this chamber?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never been there. But – but – it can’t be far from here. My – er – that is, Mirthful – she lived around here before she – er – mated.’

‘Then we must find it,’ said Badger. ‘And when we’ve found it . . .’ he stopped and pondered, then he finished lamely, ‘we’ll know if the Cat uses it.’

‘Oh dear. What if the Cat is there when we find it?’ Mossy asked tremulously.

‘We only have to
see
it,’ Badger growled. ‘I’ll do the seeing. You only have to find the chamber.’

‘But – but –’

‘No “buts”, Mole. This is our very last chance. You’re the greatest tunneller of us all. If anybody can find it, you can. Then you can come back to me, tell me where it’s situated and I’ll go overland. I’ll go by day. The Cat will be asleep perhaps. I make a noise’ – Badger was enacting the scene in his mind – ‘it wakes up. It sees me. I see the Cat. I tell it so – and the threat is removed. The Cat leaves White Deer Park.’ He looked at Mossy triumphantly.

‘You make it sound very simple,’ said the little animal. ‘Are you sure there’s no more of a risk than that?’

‘Only to me,’ said Badger, ‘and what does that matter? My days are numbered.’

‘Oh, Badger,’ Mossy pleaded, ‘don’t start on that again.’

‘Very well. I’ll say no more,’ he answered. ‘But I’m relying on you. You’re the one now that the whole population of the Reserve depends on, whether they realize it or not.’

Mossy gulped. He did not know if he was equal to such a tremendous responsibility. ‘I – I’ll do my best,’ he said, not very happily. ‘I can’t do more than that.’

‘Of course you can’t,’ Badger assured him. ‘But I know what “best” means for the most efficient of all tunnel travellers. Off with you now. There’s no time to lose.’

Mossy scurried away. How was he to begin this impossible task?

He headed first of all for his own comfortable nest where, he was pretty sure, he had left some immobilized worms uneaten. He was glad to find that indeed this was the case. Whilst he was chewing on these, he tried very hard to think of all that Mirthful had told him about the great chamber. The network of underground passages used by his parents was all around him. Many of them he still used himself. In addition to these were some others that his mother had used before she had become mate to
his father. Somewhere the two systems connected, because it had been at that point where his parents had first encountered each other. Mossy knew roughly in what direction this place would be, and so that must be the first stage of his exploration. Afterwards he would have to reconnoitre the old tunnels used by Mirthful, in the hope that one of them would bring him to the chamber he sought. He ate a last worm in a pensive sort of way and set off.

He found the connecting point without trouble and ran along the first passage. This led into another and that one into a further passage and it was remarkable, he thought, how free of debris they had remained in all this time. One passage came to a dead end and there, at the end of it, was the remains of an old nest. The materials – dry grass and leaves – had not yet disintegrated entirely. Mossy paused. A feeling of sweet but distant sadness stole over him. He had stumbled across one of his mother’s old resting-places.

But there was no time for sentimentality. Underneath the nest was a bolt-hole. Mossy pulled himself into it and simply followed his nose. And it was his nose that was starting to cause problems. Along the passages the scent of earthworms pervaded the damp, close air. Their little burrows were everywhere and often they dropped unsuspectingly into a mole’s tunnel. Mossy was having the utmost difficulty in ignoring the sensations picked up by his nose. Although he had eaten recently, he already felt hungry again. He tried to remember the importance of his mission, but the worms intruded more and more into his awareness and, eventually he was unable to resist any longer. He snapped at one and ate it hurriedly. Then he moved on, collecting one here, one there, and stopping each time to devour it. Without realizing it, his journey of exploration had become a worm hunt. He was
so intent on satisfying his voracious appetite that he lost all idea of time, where he was going, and what he was meant to be doing. In the midst of grabbing a particularly plump worm from the earth walls, he suddenly seemed to lose his footing. The loose soil gave way beneath him and he found himself plunging down as if into a void. Then there was a bump as he landed abruptly at the bottom.

Luckily he had fallen on to more earth and he was more shaken by the surprise than the severity of the fall. Mossy pulled himself together. A dim light enabled him to see a little. He soon noticed a patch of daylight, like a round piece of whiteness against the mass of black. He knew it was from there that the feeble light filtered through, and he guessed it was a large entrance hole. Then, with a start, he realized where he was. He was in a sort of cavern. Out there, beyond the patch of daylight, lay the Park. Mossy had found the great chamber!

Now he was very frightened. The passage he had fallen from was high up the cavern wall and there was no way by which he could climb back up to it. The only way out was through the main entrance hole. But how could he get to it and out of it safely when the Cat might arrive at any moment? Then his heart turned over. The Cat might even now be inside the cavern, only a few steps away. He did not know – yet. Mossy held himself very still. His heart hammered wildly at the thought. He tried to test the dank air for animal scents, wrinkling his snout all around. There
was
a smell – a warm, sharp sort of smell, which was almost certainly given off by the animal’s body. Mossy began to tremble uncontrollably. He could scarcely prevent his teeth from chattering with fright. How he wished someone else were there – Badger preferably – to suggest what he should do. Then he recalled that
he
had to report to Badger. He had to get out
into the Park – somehow – so that he could describe the location of the chamber.

Mossy tried to calm himself. Even if an animal
was
present somewhere near him in that cavern, it might be something smaller and less ferocious than the Cat. So he argued to himself. But it was no use. He
knew
, without actually seeing it, that it was the Cat. Now he had two options. One was to try and creep to the exit without being noticed. He did not know if he had the courage to do that. The other was to wait, still and noiseless, until darkness fell again, and hope that the Beast would itself leave on a hunting trip. What an ordeal that would be. It was a good thing he had eaten well. But supposing he waited – how many more lives, perhaps of those whom he knew, would be lost if the Cat rampaged around again? If he could get out now he could prevent this happening.

There was no sound. Was the Cat sleeping or wakeful? At any rate, his – Mossy’s – abrupt entry into the chamber did not seem to have been detected. So if his presence was not suspected already, a small animal like himself could have a fair chance of remaining unseen. Keeping close to the side of the chamber, Mossy moved a few centimetres. Then he froze, waiting for a reaction. There was none. He moved a little farther, then farther still in the direction of the disc of daylight. Oh, it seemed so far away. This cavern was really enormous.

Mossy reached a point along the wall where he got, as it were, behind the shaft of faint light that shone into the murky interior. Now he could see part of the chamber quite well where the light fell. And there he saw four huge tawny legs, belonging to a body the rest of which remained in shadow. It was obvious, from the position of the legs, that the body was lying on its side. Evidently the Cat slept. Mossy was encouraged. But he could not resist
pausing to peer for a long time, through his weak eyes, at the impressive sight. He compared the huge paws with his own diminutive ones and this set him scuttling on his way again. The exit was closer now and the daylight seemed to be dimming. He could see foliage beyond – thick encompassing foliage that hid the entrance to the chamber from those abroad in the Park. Mossy moved on, nearer and nearer, still keeping as quiet and slow as he could. When he was about two metres from regaining the Park, he heard a stir behind him. The Cat had woken and was stretching its limbs where it lay. There was a muffled growl and Mossy thought he was discovered. He waited, almost dead with fright. But nothing happened. After a while, he started on again. He was nearly there. A breeze blew from ouside and wafted into the chamber, ruffling the Cat’s fur. Some dust must have blown into its nostrils, too. Mossy heard a tremendous sneeze. Then the Cat was up and padding towards him. He tried to hurry but it was no use. The Cat, on its long legs, was there before him.