Urchin and the Rage Tide Read online

  “That’s what I thought,” said Padra. “As far as I know, none of the otters have said a word about it.”

  “Maybe he just knows things that the rest of us don’t,” said Crispin. “Some animals do. Juniper does.”

  “Maybe,” agreed Padra, “but that doesn’t make him the favored one of the Heart, as he calls himself. He’s just an animal with a touch of sixth sense and not enough common sense. And a very high opinion of himself. Watch him, Crispin. He has such intensity. I don’t believe for a moment he’s a friend of Sepia’s. He’s the kind who wants to be the center of attention, and I suspect he’s as mad as a whirlpool and a sight more dangerous. If the whole island crashes down around him, that won’t bother him at all. I’d rather not even think this, but there’s a touch of Husk about him.”

  All that day otters swam around the shores, sniffing the air and feeling for the currents, reporting back on the state of the tides. Spade the mole muttered about the blooming sea, and how there was far too blooming much of it. It should know how to behave its blooming self by now, he thought, as he examined tunnels to see how they could be broadened, and where new ones could be dug, so that animals and supplies could be moved inland quickly. In the tower, Needle and Thripple set about packing away the Threadings. Little Myrtle, who was by now an accomplished seamstress and embroiderer, sat on a bench at an embroidery frame far bigger than she was, rocking a little and humming to herself. Needle, rolling up a Threading, looked to see what Myrtle was stitching into her design.

  “Ooh!” said Myrtle suddenly. “Please, Needle, I’ve sewn something I didn’t know about.”

  “Yes, I see,” said Needle. There were times when Myrtle seemed to go into a trance and add messages to her work, even though she had never learned the Threadings Code and had no idea what the images meant. But Needle knew. Tips of wild waves stood out in the blue embroidered sea.

  “It’s like an angry sea,” said Myrtle.

  “Yes, and you’ll understand soon,” said Needle. “No need to tell the king. He knows about that.”

  “MOSSBERRY!” exclaimed Sepia.

  In Crispin and Cedar’s own chambers, a small group of animals sat together finishing supper by firelight and candlelight. The captains were there, with Urchin, Juniper, Needle, and Sepia. Outside, light snow drifted through the night sky. Princess Catkin and Sepia had curled up in the window seat to watch it when Crispin’s remark made Sepia whirl around to face him.

  “Mossberry said that?” she cried.

  Crispin laughed. “He came to me very full of importance,” he said. “He had all sorts of things to tell me, including the fact that you were his dear friend and had urged him to come to me.”

  “I only just met him today!” cried Sepia indignantly. “And I couldn’t get away soon enough. He’s creepy! What did he want?”

  Crispin turned the wineglass in his paws as if considering how much to say.

  “He offered me his advice,” he said.

  “Cheeky posh-paws!” cried Catkin.

  “Not cheeky, I think,” said Crispin. “But certainly confused.”

  “Only he doesn’t know he’s confused,” said Padra. “He’s deluded. He’s also convinced that he’s right.”

  “About what?” asked Oakleaf.

  “Pretty well everything,” said Crispin. “I sent him to you, Juniper. Did he turn up?”

  “Not today,” said Juniper.

  “Oh, and he was going to tell you how to be a priest!” said Padra.

  “I have met him before, though,” said Juniper. “He came to me not long ago to tell me I should train him as a priest. It was impossible; he’s too full of himself. You can’t train an animal who already knows it all. I sent him away gently, but he was offended, nevertheless. There’s something about Mossberry that makes my fur bristle.”

  “That’s how I felt,” said Sepia. “Maybe it’s that fierce brightness. It’s overpowering, and scary.”

  “And he can see a bit more than the rest of us can,” said Crispin. “Sixth sense but no common sense, as Padra said. I wanted to talk to you all about him because he could do a great deal of harm. I’ll give him some fetching and carrying to do when we have to move everyone and everything inland. Catkin?”

  Catkin turned from the window seat.

  “Do you know why I’ve given him a job helping the tower animals?” he asked.

  “Because you want to keep him where you can see what he’s up to,” replied Catkin promptly.

  “Well done,” he said. “Who shall I send to keep an eye on him?”

  “Urchin,” she said at once.

  “I don’t think so,” said Crispin. “He might feel jealous of Urchin. Somebody older, of a different species, would be more likely to get him to settle down—and that’s what I want to do, calm him down, not catch him out. Docken, would you?”

  “Certainly, Your Majesty,” said Docken. “I’ll set him to work with young Todd and a few moles—quiet, hardworking animals who won’t be impressed by his nonsense.”

  “Excellent!” said Crispin. “Off you all go, then. Dismissed.”

  They bowed, and left, with a swift exchange of glances and whispers between Urchin and Sepia. Urchin was the last to leave, hesitating for a moment.

  “Urchin?” said the king. “Was there anything else? Anything you wanted to ask?”

  There was, but Urchin hesitated. He would have liked to talk to them about Sepia—or rather, about Sepia and himself—but wasn’t sure how to. “No, Your Majesty,” he said, and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” And he slipped out, closing the door.

  The king and queen gave each other a knowing look. “How sweet,” said the queen.

  Mossberry sat on a rock near the shore, wriggling with annoyance. The king hadn’t listened to him. Pressing his paws into the sand, he curled his claws. Those tower animals didn’t understand. How could they? They were all traitors. He was the chosen one to save this island. None of them had what he had—not the king (who was only king by accident), nor the priest (and nobody even knew who his family were), nor that jumped-up Urchin (who didn’t even come from Mistmantle. Neither did the queen). He was Mossberry, a trueborn Mistmantle animal and the Heart’s favorite, and the Heart had given him gifts they could never understand. Voices and music buzzed in his head.

  He rose with a fierce intensity in his eyes. His work must be done, and nobody must stand in his way. He ran to Watchtop Hill, where he climbed a tree and looked out over the island as the tree swayed in the wind, rocking him.

  It was no good trying to talk to those animals in the tower. They all thought they knew best, but he could always find animals who’d listen to him. He already had followers, animals who were weak and confused and knew how much they needed him. Really, he had to admit that some animals were not very clever and needed his help. Even now, from his high perch, he could see two hedgehogs—one fully grown and one small—standing paw in paw beside a stream. Their backs were turned to him, but from their hunched shoulders and bowed heads he could tell that they were miserable. The little one threw a handful of flowers into the water, as animals sometimes did as a way of honoring their dead. Mossberry ran down the tree and through the wood, so that he was in their path as they walked home. Standing in their path, he raised a paw.

  “Heart keep you!” he cried. “The Heart has seen your sorrow! You have lost someone dear to you, yes?”

  “My daddy,” said the young one, tearfully.

  “Beg pardon,” said the older one. “It’s not long since her father died, and we come here to throw flowers for him—how did you know we were mourning? Do I know you?”

  “The Heart tells me things,” said Mossberry, “and your pain reached me.”

  The mother hedgehog looked impressed. The little one shrank against her, holding tightly to her paw. Mossberry knelt.

  “You needn’t be afraid of me, little one. I’m only Mossberry, the Heart’s servant. I think you are very like your father.”

  �
�Oh, she is!” said the mother.

  “Yes,” said Mossberry, gazing over the young hedgehog’s head. “I think I see him looking over you.” Both hedgehogs looked around in surprise. “You can’t see him, but he is close to you and very proud of you. His name…” He narrowed his eyes in thought.

  “Quickpaw!” cried the little one.

  Mossberry nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Quickpaw,” he repeated, as if he had always known it. As the mother hedgehog wiped away a tear, he took her paw. “Tell me all about him. The Heart has sent me to comfort you.”

  He settled down to listen to their story with a sense of satisfaction. He loved doing this; it made him feel important.

  “I must leave you now,” he said at last. “I may be needed by other animals. If you, or any of your family, need me again, ask for Mossberry—Brother Mossberry.”

  “Are you a priest?” asked the little one.

  Mossberry smiled. He put a clawtip to his lips as if sharing a great secret.

  “The island has no more need for priests,” he said. “The Heart has sent you Mossberry.”

  He bowed, and ran away through the forest as if he were urgently needed elsewhere. He was practiced at scenes like this, and was sure that these two would join his other followers.

  The next day, Crispin sent messengers to tell the animals of the coming rage tide. We will all be calm, was the king’s message. Yes, there will be destruction and suffering, but we will do what we always do—we will look after each other. Don’t be afraid. Simply pack what you need and be ready to move uphill and inland when the Circle animals tell you to. Have food and warm cloaks ready. Any crops that are ready to be lifted, harvest them now, to be stored on high ground.

  Docken began to organize the evacuation of the tower. Mossberry was allowed to help under clear instructions and never left to work alone. But Mossberry needed little sleep and the word was spreading about wonderful Brother Mossberry. In the nights, he would slip to a cave in the cliffs, knowing that other animals would be waiting for him, hungry for his presence, desperate to hear him. He must not let them down. On this particular night, running through a tunnel to the cave, he could already hear their conversation.

  “It’s a good thing we have Brother Mossberry to look after us.…” one squirrel was saying. “He told me my poor mother’s still watching over me from beyond the grave, and that’s such a comfort.”

  “He’s good like that,” said a hedgehog. “And he’s not proud. He came to my tree root and let me cook his tea for him.”

  “I don’t know what we ever did without him,” said another, who was a little jealous because she had never cooked tea for Mossberry. “It’s so good to have someone like that, a leader, telling us what’s what.”

  “Yes,” agreed a mole. “The king should listen to Mossberry.”

  “He really should,” agreed a hedgehog. “He doesn’t understand things the way Brother Mossberry does. Brother Mossberry will help him. Brother Mossberry will keep him right. The king’s lucky to have him.”

  “But Brother Juniper’s a good priest, isn’t he, Auntie Cherry?” asked a small squirrel called Twirl.

  “Oh, he’ll do, I suppose,” admitted her aunt, “but he’d do so much better if only he’d listen to—” she began, then gave a smothered shriek of delight. “He’s here! Our master, Brother Mossberry!”

  As Mossberry appeared in the cave the animals rushed forward, crying out with joy and reaching to take his paws, kissing his claws and pulling him farther into the cave. They smoothed his fur, sat him down, brought him wine, and settled hopefully at his paws, gazing up at his face.

  “The Heart hears me!” he proclaimed, raising his paws as if giving a blessing.

  “The Heart hears you, Brother Mossberry!” they responded.

  “The Heart has spoken to me,” he said. “Dear animals, the Heart has chosen me to protect you. Listen to nobody else. All others are deceivers and deceived. Don’t trust them!”

  “We can trust Brother Juniper, can’t we?” asked Twirl.

  “Brother Juniper?” cried Mossberry. “How can he call himself that? He refuses to train me as a priest because he is afraid of me! He knows I am the true priest of the island, so he fears me. They all do.”

  There were murmurs and shaking of heads from the animals. Mossberry went on, “Do you know what they’ve done? They’ve ordered me to do common work, fetching and carrying, that any stupid animal could do!”

  There was a long “Oh!” of indignation. Somebody murmured, “Oh, Brother Mossberry!” Mossberry held up a paw for silence.

  “Please, dear friends, do not misunderstand me,” he said. “It’s not that I mind doing menial, humble tasks for the island. I’m not too proud to load up boxes of turnips, or take curtains down. I will willingly do any service for the island. But they’re cunning, those tower animals. Captain Docken gives me these jobs to humiliate me—and, in humiliating me, he insults the chosen one of the Heart! When he insults me, he insults the Heart!”

  The animals gasped.

  “Yes, the Heart is angry!” cried Mossberry. “Angry with this island and angrier still because the king and the priest will not listen to me! But fear not. This is what the Heart tells you: Love Brother Mossberry. Obey Brother Mossberry—whatever he says—for you can trust him. Do nothing without the permission of Brother Mossberry. So you see, dear animals, the Heart has placed you in my care. I will save you from the anger that is to come. I will lead you to safety. And my command tonight is this—leave separately, one or two at a time, and take different routes. Nobody must know of our meetings, or the king will have me killed.”

  The animals moaned and shook their heads. Mossberry put his head on one side and stretched out his paws.

  “Let me be your…your leader,” he said. (He nearly said, “your king,” but decided not to.) “Your priest, your prophet, your guide, and your captain.”

  “Did you fight in the Raven War?” piped up Twirl, and her aunt slapped her.

  “Dearest Twirl,” said Mossberry, smiling down at her, “I will ask the Heart not to be angry with you.”

  “Say thank you to Brother Mossberry, Twirl,” said Cherry. Twirl looked down at her paws and muttered something.

  Mossberry lowered his voice, as if he were being spied on. “Gather in our shoreline burrow in two nights’ time. We must become familiar with the shore. Don’t all arrive at the same time, or by the same route. Be careful. You could tell the king about our meetings if you wished to. He does not know that his rule is over. I say to you—do not betray me. Do not betray each other. I am the Chosen One.”

  Cherry bent over Twirl, who was sulking. “D’you hear that, Twirl?” she snapped. “That means you keep your mouth shut.”

  Did any of them, except little Twirl, doubt Mossberry? Did any of them remember that the king and the tower animals had always been good to them, or that the Heart had always been kind? If they did think so, they didn’t dare say so. They were too much in awe of Mossberry.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HEN A FEW MORE DAYS HAD PASSED, it was time to evacuate the tower. A host of small hedgehogs and squirrels had gathered around Urchin, the smaller ones bobbing up and down to be noticed. He held a claw to his lips for quiet.

  “Now, explorers,” he said, “have you all packed a bag, ready to move?”

  The small animals gazing up at him all nodded solemnly, still watching his face. They each had a satchel on their backs containing a cloak, a drinking bottle, and the little possessions—combs, toys, and favorite treasures—that they wanted to take to the new burrows. The little girl animals all wanted to hold Sepia’s paws, until she seemed to have one clinging to every claw. Prince Oakleaf came to the help of a tiny squirrel whose satchel kept slipping from her shoulder.

  “Is that the king?” whispered a hedgehog, curtsying.

  “No, it’s his son,” said Urchin. “Everybody ready? Now, I need someone to do a special job for the king!”

  A dozen or s
o small paws shot up toward the sky. Every squirrel stretched up very straight and tall, hoping to be noticed.

  “I think that’s about everyone,” said Prince Oakleaf. “We have a box here of equipment from the tower to be moved to safety.”

  “I’ll carry it!” cried a small voice.

  “No, me!”

  “Please, we can take it between us!” said two very small hedgehogs who looked swamped by their satchels already.

  “Perhaps you could all carry something,” said Urchin. “That would be a great help to King Crispin and all of us.”

  Delighted by the idea of helping the king, all the small animals reached out. Prince Oakleaf put a saucepan into one pair of paws and a bag of clothes-pegs into another, and hung a coil of washing line around the shoulders of an otter. Urchin saw the delight on their faces and pictured them scurrying away later to tell their parents of how they’d helped King Crispin. Even the animals who had attached themselves to Sepia let go so that they could carry brushes, buckets, and rolling pins. One young hedgehog stretched out a paw, then withdrew it and seemed to think again.

  “Oh! Excuse me, sir, I have to go and see if it’s all right,” he said, and scuttled away toward a burrow. There were sighs of “Oh, Pottle!” from the other animals.

  “Pottle’s always like this, Master Urchin, sir,” said a hedgehog. “He always asks if it’s all right with his mom before he does anything.”

  “It’s for the king!” said another. “What couldn’t be right about it?”

  “It’s fair enough,” said Prince Oakleaf, “if he wants to check with his mom.”

  “Yes, sir, but then she always goes and asks somebody else,” complained a squirrel.

  “Somebody else?” repeated Sepia.

  “Any particular somebody?” asked Prince Oakleaf.

  “Don’t know,” said the squirrel, and the animals fell to discussing between themselves who it was that Pottle’s mom always asked about things. They had decided that they didn’t know who it was, but it definitely wasn’t Pottle’s dad, when Pottle scrambled back from the burrow, a bit out of breath, to say that Mom wasn’t there; she must be at her friend’s burrow, but he supposed it would be all right.