N A WARM, EARLY AUTUMN MORNING at Mistmantle Tower, Needle waited unhappily outside the Throne Room, holding a carved wooden plate of hazelnuts with blackberries, fir cones, and walnut and hazelnut bread. Beside her stood Sepia with a cup of a strong, spicy cordial that wafted a scent of orange and nutmeg, but nothing smelled nice to her today.
The attempt to rescue Urchin had been a wretched failure with the loss of Mistmantle lives. Gorsen, who stood on duty and smelled of pine oil, made things worse by lecturing them again on how dangerous the caves were, and how if he’d known they’d meant to go there, he would have warned them not to. It was a relief when a small mole opened the Throne Room door and invited them in.
Padra and Arran stood gravely on either side of the throne where Crispin sat, his back very straight and his face solemn. Needle shared his disappointment and hurt. Kind, sensible Mother Huggen the hedgehog and Brother Fir were side by side at the empty fireplace, and Lugg stood before Crispin, his blue cloak over his shoulders and his captain’s circlet held out in both forepaws.
“I won’t have this, Lugg,” Crispin was saying. “Put your circlet back where it belongs. Nobody has served Mistmantle more faithfully than you, and if anyone could have rescued Urchin, you could have. It’s because of you that we didn’t have more casualties. If you hadn’t been ambushed, he would have been home by now. I don’t want your resignation, Captain Lugg, and I won’t accept it.”
“Permission to try again, then, Your Majesty,” said Lugg gruffly.
“You’re as brave as your ancestors were, Lugg,” said Crispin, “but we can’t try the same thing twice. And if there’s a traitor on Mistmantle keeping King Silverbirch informed, we need to find out who it is before we make another move. That’s what we need to talk about now.”
“Before we do, Your Majesty,” said Padra, “you’ve been so involved in the aftermath of the rescue and planning the next one, you’ve hardly eaten for two days. Needle and Sepia have prepared this specially.”
Crispin drank the cordial and said it was perfect, and Arran sent Sepia straight to the kitchens to order another one for midday. When she had gone, Padra turned to Needle.
“You’re a Companion to the King, and should hear this,” he said. “The secret counsels of the Throne Room have been betrayed. Either one of us is a traitor, or there’s a spy somewhere.”
“Oh!” said Needle, because the answer seemed obvious. “There’s that place under the floorboards that Fingal found!”
“That’s been sealed up now,” said Crispin. “Gorsen saw to that. But even if any animal had been listening down there, they’d still have to get off the island. All the Whitewings animals are accounted for, including the ship’s crew.”
“Mistress Tay’s been visiting them,” said Needle, and wondered why Crispin laughed.
“Mistress Tay is giving Scatter lessons in law and history,” said Padra, “while Lord Treeth yells curses and throw things. She’s doing no harm.” He winked at her from behind Crispin’s back. At least, thought Needle, she’d made the king laugh.
“I don’t like to think ill of anyone,” said Mother Huggen, “but we still don’t know what happened to that new friend of Urchin’s, Juniper, who disappeared at the same time. There’s no sign of him anywhere on the island, living or dead, and why would he leave?”
“Hadn’t he disappeared before Crispin ordered the moles to go?” asked Arran.
“Might have hidden on the island, then run off through a tunnel,” said Mother Huggen. “Not that I’m saying it’s him, but the king said we had to talk about it, so I’m talking.”
“He’s young,” said Padra, “and he seemed to be making good friends. I hope very much that it isn’t Juniper, but it’s possible.”
Needle was about to say that she had her doubts about Gleaner, when Crispin sprang up from the throne and banged his paw on its arm.
“I hate this!” he cried. “The idea of going about the island, even the tower, knowing that anyone I meet could be a traitor! I don’t want to doubt my friends! Look at us, huddled up, choosing who to spy on! We’ll end up with an island that’s perfectly safe, but nobody can pick up sticks for firewood without being watched. Is that what we want?”
He turned his back to them and stood without speaking, gripping the arms of the throne with both paws. Everyone watched him except Fir who, in spite of Crispin’s outburst, sat very still on the floor with his back straight and his eyes shut. Crispin turned to face them again.
“Bear in mind,” he said firmly, “that none of our plans must ever be discussed outside our councils. Watch for anyone behaving strangely, anyone listening at doors, anyone disappearing underground. There may be tunnels we don’t know about, so Lugg, get your best moles on to it. And I want you all to pray. Thank you all, and unless anybody else has any comment to make, you may go.”
Arran and Mother Huggen bowed, though Arran, who was with young, couldn’t bow very far. Needle curtsied and was about to ask Crispin to eat, when there was a “Hm!” from somewhere near the floor.
Everyone turned to look at Brother Fir. He was still sitting absolutely straight, but his eyes had opened. Needle was afraid he might be ill, but when he spoke his voice was clear and strong.
Over the water
The Secret will bring them.
Moonlight, Firelight,
The Holy and the True,
The Secret will draw them home.
Needle didn’t know what was happening, and looked at the others for help. They were all watching Brother Fir intensely.
“Tell it again, please, Brother Fir,” said Crispin urgently.
Slowly, steadily, Fir repeated it. He said it a third time, and this time Crispin, Padra, and Arran said it with him, paying great attention as if they were committing a lesson to memory. Needle suddenly realized that Crispin was looking at her.
“Have you learned it yet?” he asked.
She found she could repeat it by heart. Mother Huggen had to say it, too. Then Crispin asked, “What does it mean, Brother Fir?”
Fir blinked, stood up, and shook his ears briskly. “Dear King Crispin,” he said, “it’s quite enough to receive a prophecy without being expected to understand it. There it is.” He smoothed down his old tunic which, Needle noticed, was looking more frayed and threadbare than ever. “We must be alert, of course, but I do hope that we’re not all going to go off looking for traitors. The king was quite right. Mistrust is poisonous.”
“You may all go,” said Crispin, “except you, please, Padra.” It seemed to Needle that there was a new brightness about him. The prophecy must have given him hope. She pushed the plate firmly toward him before trotting from the chamber.
“Will you please finish the royal breakfast?” said Padra. “Or do I have to cram it down the royal throat?”
“I’ll eat it,” said Crispin, taking a pawful of hazelnuts. “A prophecy, Padra! What do you think it meant?”
Padra shrugged. “If Fir doesn’t know, you can’t expect me to. But it makes me sure that Urchin will come back. Over the water. Do you suppose ‘the Secret’is Urchin? It might be, as we don’t know anything about who he is.”
“Or could it be Juniper?” said Crispin. “But if we knew what it was, it wouldn’t be a secret. I’ve had Russet and Heath organizing searches for Juniper, but he’s not on the island. I hope he’s not a traitor, but he’s another one we know nothing about. A mystery, like Urchin.”
Needle liked to be busy, especially now, as it took her mind from Urchin. She hurried down to the shore, accompanied by Gorsen’s friend Crammen, who insisted on telling her again that the best kings were always hedgehogs.
After a little beachcombing, she would need to speak to Thripple. She wanted her advice about a sewing project she had in mind. Sooner or later there would be a coronation, and Fir couldn’t possibly crown Crispin wearing that shabby old tunic.
And what about Gleaner? She felt extremely curious about Gleaner, and more than a little anxious. She had to protect the king, and Gleaner could be dangerous.