The Second Wave (The Dorset Squirrels) Page 12

  Mogul, the peacock, was at that time crouched uneasily on a beam in an unfamiliar shed, the remainder of his harem of peahens perched alongside him, their head under their wings. In his restless slumber he was resenting the way he had been shooed out of the stone building that has been their home for so long by a party of humans, who had come into the church and started to clean it up after many years of abandonment and neglect.

  Mogul’s dream was that, when spring came, he would dazzle his hens and all the humans with a display of colour such as none of them had ever seen before. He would especially show off to the man in the brown and green clothes, the man with the picture of the oak-leaves and the acorns on his chest, who was clearly the Cock of the parties of men now busy all across the island.

  The object of Mogul’s dreams was the National Trust Head Warden, who had recently been appointed when the Trust had taken over Brownsea Island. He was dreaming of – or perhaps it would be more honest to say, lying awake worrying about – all the things that had to be organised and carried out before the official opening ceremony, scheduled for late May.

  Apart from the church, the restoration of which was being carried out by a group of volunteers from a mainland parish, there were countless things to be done. Masses of the rhododendrons had to be cleared, buildings would have to be repaired and a power line brought over from the mainland. The diesel generator was just not adequate. So much to do, so little time! Some people just don’t realise how much; all they kept asking him was ‘Are the squirrels still there?’ Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen them for a while. Finally he fell asleep with pictures of squirrels filling his dreams.

  Not many of the Ourland squirrels were asleep. Just Poplar, fearful of a return visit from the marten, had employed another trick from his dreyling-hood games. An hour before high-tide he had led the entire party out of the labyrinth on to the shore and they had set off in the dusk, along the beach below the high-water mark. Soon the rising tide would obliterate their tracks and their scent! They had left the beach after rounding the point and were now resting uneasily in the darkness near the ruined Man-dreys of Maryland at the extreme western end of Ourland.

  Old Oak was asleep. The burden of Leadership lifted from him by Just Poplar, Oak seemed to be shrinking in on himself, sleeping often, and little concerned with the events going on around him. Earlier that day he had led the youngsters out of the rear entrance of the labyrinth as the marten had gone in at the front, and had kept them amused whilst the other mature squirrels had confused and demoralised the hunter. Then there had been that long trek over the sand and the pebbles of the beach. His age now excused him from any guard duty, so he slept and dreamed of his daughter, Marguerite the Bright One, and his son, Rowan the Bold. What a character he was, totally fearless. He would have enjoyed today – fooling the marten!

  Rowan himself, snug in his drey at the Humanside Guardianship of the Blue Pool, cuddled up to his life-mate, Meadowsweet, tagged Rowan’s love, and their dreyling, Young Bluebell. Rowan was dreaming of the day his sister, Marguerite, had shown him the numbers she had invested for counting things. The odd-shaped figures paraded across the backs of his eyelids

  Each had the right number of corners to hide nuts in, as Marguerite had explained, after she had scratched the figures in the clay. had one corner, had two and so on. Neither of them had dreamed then of the power these numbers would have when scratched on to the smooth surface of the Woodstock.

  The Woodstock itself was the object of Marguerite’s dreams. She dreamed that she was pointing it at Crag and threatening to curl his whiskers if he did not hand over Young Chip, and stop this business of misleading the gullible Greys.

  Juniper stirred next to her, briefly waking Young Oak and Young Burdock who, after wriggling about and nudging one another, dropped off to sleep again, leaving Marguerite awake in the darkness.

  She was not sure now if she was dreaming or not. Images tumbled through her mind. At first she felt surrounded by a thick grey mist filled with a hidden menace. Then a shaft of sunlight broke through and it its light she could see the long sweep of a pebble beach as it had once been described to her by Chip. Dandelion had portrayed it again in the Whale story. It was there that the second wave had swept Primrose out to join Acorn in the water before the whale had taken them to safety on Ourland. The Second Wave – that was what the Greys called themselves now.

  Did this mean that the Greys were destined to sweep the Reds off the Mainland to Ourland? She tensed, then relaxed to let her subconscious thoughts rise to the surface like cones dropped in a pool. The first picture to come was of the great ruined Man-drey that the squirrels could see in the distance from the tops of the poolside trees on clear days. In her mind a rainbow arched through the sky over the heath, bright against the dark sky beyond. One end appeared to be on the Lightning Tree and the other on the ruined Man-drey.

  Before she could interpret this, another picture emerged. She could see a huge slab of stone tilted on its edge and seemingly balanced on other small stones beneath. It was surrounded by desolate heathland, but in the distance beyond it was the sea. The rainbow came again, faint and nebulous at first, then glowing brighter and brighter as the sun broke through the grey clouds and massed behind her. Now one end of the rainbow was on the great stone and the other far out to sea. She followed the arch with her imagination and where it ended she could see three black dolphins curving gracefully through the waves. She remembered Malin and Lundy, the dolphins who had helped her when, with Spindle and Wood Anemone, she had been carried out to sea in a rubber boat the previous year.

  She felt that the two larger dolphins were these same ones and that they were trying to communicate with her. She strained all her senses to try to pick up the silent thought-waves, but the picture faded and she woke feeling sick and empty.

  At first light Marguerite slipped out of the warm drey and ran through the mist-wreathed treetops to the drey of Alder and Dandelion. She paused outside and whispered the Calling Kernel:

  Hello and greeting.

  I visit you and bring peace.

  Emerge or I leave.

  Dandelion’s sleepy voice responded, ‘Marguerite, come on in. It’ll be a bit crowded. But you’re always welcome. Do you have news?’

  ‘I must speak quietly to Alder. Is he awake?’

  ‘I’ll come out now,’ Alder called, and emerged, blinking, into the cold air.

  Marguerite, as always when she first saw him each day, had to adjust to the fact that he had no tail, and remind herself that this did not mean that he had no brain. In fact, he had proved to be an excellent Leader, though perhaps a little lacking in imagination. She smiled to herself as she remembered what Dandelion had once said to her: that she, Marguerite, had enough imagination for three ordinary squirrels, and some to spare!

  They brushed whiskers on the grooming branch, then Marguerite signalled Alder to follow her out of ear-twitch of the drey’s other occupants. ‘I don’t want to alarm any squirrel, but last night I had the strangest dream.’

  Alder looked puzzled, and waited for Marguerite to continue.

  ‘I don’t know even if it was a dream; it seemed far stronger than any dream I have ever had before.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Alder, gently, seeing how agitated Marguerite was.

  She told Alder what she had seen in the night. As she did so, the pictures strengthened in her mind and she became more and more convinced that they were more than just a dream.

  Alder asked her to repeat what she had told him to Dandelion, his life-mate.

  When Marguerite got to the great rock set in the desolate heathland, Dandelion broke in. ‘That is an exact description of the Agglestone that my grandfather told me about. It is on the heath between the ruined Man-drey and the sea. He described it to me once. He found it when he was on climbabout as a youngster and slept the night on top of it. You’ve had a Sun-scene.’

  ‘What’s a Sun-scene?’ asked Marguerite, the term new to h
er.

  ‘Do you remember my telling you about the Bard we used to have back at our home near the Barrow of the Wolves? He used to have Sun-scenes. It happened when the Sun wanted to tell us something or warn us of danger. He had a Sun-scene before the Silver Tide came, but we didn’t really believe it and that’s why Alder lost his tail. You must be gifted like our Bard was.

  ‘We shall have to leave here and head for Ourland. That’s the message for us. Remember the second wave of the Whale story? That ended happily there for Acorn and Primrose.

  Marguerite looked at Dandelion. Was she mixing her stories with reality, or were there really Sun-scenes sent to receptive squirrels? It would solve the problem of Tansy wanting to take the Woodstock to Ourland and yet… She looked down on the winter blue of the pool. It would be unlikely that she would ever see that again if they did leave, but they had no food reserves, and who knew what the Greys would do next.

  ‘We must have a Council Meeting,’ she said. ‘This morning.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  At the meeting the squirrels discussed Marguerite’s Sun-scene and what it would mean for them all. Demoralised after losing their food reserves and ever conscious of the nearness of the Greys and the zealous Crag, there was no resistance to the proposal to move away to the ruined Man-drey, though they all regretted having to leave their beautiful home.

  Alder quoted the Acceptance kernel:

  If it hurts too much

  Thinking of what cannot be,

  Put it out of mind.

  ‘Who knows the best way to get to the ruined Man-drey?’ he asked.

  ‘I do,’ said Rowan. ‘I went near there when I was on climbabout. There is a great mound in a gap in the hills with towers of stone on top. Humans used to live there, but now they live in smaller Man-dreys on the other side of the mound.’

  Dandelion said, ‘That’s what they call a castle. Or so my grandfather used to say.’

  ‘There’s an easy way to go there,’ said Rowan. ‘Through the woods to the east are two metal ‘lines’ that go right to the Man-dreys by this ‘castle’ thing. I followed them when I was on climbabout. Easy travel, no swamps or wide streams to cross, but you’re on the ground all the time, so you have to be alert.’

  ‘I remember crossing those lines last time we had to leave here,’ Juniper said, ‘ on the way to Ourland. What are they for?’ he looked at Dandelion.

  ‘Sun knows. The humans must have made them, but why, I don’t know.’

  Tansy signalled a request to speak. ‘I know that I have been urging you all to do something about helping to save the Ourland squirrels from the pine marten, and if we are all going, then surely we must take the Woodstock.’ She paused and the others nodded agreement.

  ‘But before we go, we must also do something about Chipling. He is still being held against his will, contrary to the Freedom Kernel. I propose that we first work out a plan to free him so that he can come with us - if that is his wish.’

  Tamarisk glowered at her, then turned away as she scowled back.

  Alder spoke. ‘Tansy is right. We cannot leave the youngster like that. Suggestions, please. Then when he is safe, we’ll follow those metal lines. We’ll need to travel fast, once we’ve rescued Chip. It’ll be like poking a stick in a wasp’s nest.’

  The rescue party approached the tree stealthily so as not to alert the guarding Greys.

  The rest of the community had left the Blue Pool, dragging the Woodstock with them, to circle round and cross open country to the south and east until they came to the metal lines. Then they were to follow these towards the castle mound as fast as they could, their speed dependent on the youngsters in the party. Alder was in charge, and they had left before High Sun to gain maximum distance before nightfall.

  Marguerite was leading the rescuers; her party consisted of Rowan the Bold, delighted at the prospect of action, Tansy the Wistful and Tamarisk the Forthright. Tamarisk had continued to be unenthusiastic about the need for rescuing Chip at all, but had not spoken against the plan, as Tansy was so obviously in favour.

  Now he was rearguard on a highly dangerous mission. At least he might be able to protect Tansy and persuade bossy Marguerite to withdraw if it got too risky!

  They climbed the tree which Tansy had been in when she signalled, and saw that Chip and his mother were sitting out on the dead branch, as they did on most days after High Sun. Watching the Greys, Tansy flicked her tail. Chip responded at once. He must have been watching for her, Tamarisk thought jealously.

  Tansy was making pointing signals with her paws, and Chip was sitting up and staring across the clearing. Stupid brat, thought Tamarisk, and was relieved when Chip responded to a signal from Tansy to appear relaxed. Then Rusty sat up and stared until Chip whispered urgently to her. Tamarisk looked down, but the guards were chatting amongst themselves, apparently unaware of anything happening above their heads.

  Rusty was the unknown part of their plan. If they were successful, she might come away with Chip, or she might just turn a blind eye as he went off with them. They had all agreed that, as his mother, she was unlikely to do anything to alert the guards or to prevent his escape, but no squirrel could be sure when these Portlanders, with their strange customs, were involved,

  Marguerite moved quietly through the treetops to the north side of the clearing as they had planned earlier, and dropped a cone to the ground. The Greys, instantly alert, sat and looked up in that direction. Keeping out of sight Marguerite dropped another cone. The Greys moved forward slowly to investigate, all their attention focused on the north side of the glade.

  Tansy flicked an unmistakable ‘go down and head that way’ signal to Chip, holding a paw to her mouth to indicate the need for silence. Tamarisk saw Chip whisper something to his mother as though trying to persuade her to come with him, but she shook her head, touched him on the shoulder and watched as he slipped down the far side of the trunk.

  Marguerite dropped a larger cone and the grey guards moved forward, trying to see what was happening. They chattered to one another, all peering in the direction of the sound.

  Tamarisk and Tansy moved through the treetops, silently, to circle round and meet Chip.

  As they were doing this, Rusty broke off pieces of rotten bark and let it fall from the Temple Tree, causing the nervous Greys to turn and stare up at her. Marguerite dropped another cone and the Greys ran in her direction only to turn again as Rusty called down something that the Reds, now busy withdrawing, could not make out. The Greys too seemed puzzled and sat staring upwards and trying to hear what she was saying, but somehow the words were not clear from the ground. One Grey shouted up to her to speak louder.

  Tansy and Tamarisk had, by now, joined a breathless Chip and were heading for the railway line, where they waited and watched from a line-side tree until Marguerite came in sight, skipping along between the rails triumphantly. They all embraced silently. There were no sounds of pursuit.

  Congratulating each other on the success of their plan, they hurried along the track, Tamarisk and Chip vying with each other to be nearest Tansy, until they caught up with the party of tired and anxious squirrels where the humans’ roadway crossed over their railway on a bridge. Marguerite, checking that Juniper had the Woodstock with them, was intrigued to see how he and Spindle were sliding it along the top of one of the metal rails, each holding an end in their mouths and running, one squirrel at either side of the rail. Apparently this was Spindle’s idea – he was good at finding easier ways to do things.

  They rested under the bridge and told how they had got Chip away from the Temple Tree. It could only be a matter of time before there was a posse after them, but it was getting dark and there was a hint of snow in the air. The bridge would offer some shelter. Rather than press on and perhaps get caught in the open, they decided to spend the night here and move off in the morning. They all climbed to a ledge out of reach of any possible prowling foxes or dogs, and huddled together, shivering in the draught which b
lew through the archway.

  Crag and Ivy had returned to the Temple Tree clearing later than usual. He was pleased with the success of that day’s search. Dozens of Greys were following him, each carrying or dragging some metallic object. The hollows of the tree were nearly full, and this surely would convince the Sun that he, Crag, was a truly worthy squirrel. The grey female, Ivy, was proving to be an unexpected ally, urging the tired Greys on with reminders of the horrors of the Sunless Pit.

  He could see that there was some kind of commotion at the foot of the Temple Tree. Rusty was rolling about on the grass chattering incoherently, surrounded by guards who were trying to understand what she was saying. He shouldered them aside and Rusty fell silent.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked roughly, addressing himself to her as she lay on the ground.

  She did not reply, just rolled her eyes wildly.

  One of the Greys said, ‘Temple Master, she has been raving since after High Sun. We did not know what to do.’

  Crag looked around. ‘Where is my son?’ he asked.

  ‘In the Temple Tree…’ the Grey replied, his voice faltering as he realised the significance of the question.

  ‘That is, unless…’ he stopped.

  ‘Fetch him down, then,’ ordered Crag, icily.