The Mistmantle Chronicles
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The Mistmantle Chronicles, by M. I. McAllister, are a series of books which feature the life of a pale, honey-colored Eurasian red squirrel named Urchin.
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[edit] Main character
Urchin is a young, honey-coloured Eurasian red squirrel that is orphaned from birth and is not from the island of Mistmantle. He is the protagonist of the series. Looks up to Crispin and becomes his paige. After Crispin is sent into exile, he becomes Padra's paige.
[edit] Other characters
FIR
In his younger days Fir was in the guard, but he was a keen scholar and a deep thinker with a great love for the Heart and a gentle spirit. He soon recognised his calling as a priest and has been the priest of Mistmantle for many years now. He limps, due to an old injury, and he has remarkable eyes, deep and joyful. He lives in his simply furnished turret at the highest point of the tower.
CRISPIN
Crispin is an excellent sword-squirrel, but rarely uses one except for practical purposes like cutting through ivy in the woods. Crispin rose quickly from a young tower squirrel to a member of the Circle, then to a Captain as his qualities of integrity, kindness, courage and resourcefulness were recognised and encouraged.
ARRAN
Arran is an extremely sensible otter, one who sees what needs doing and does it with great efficiency. She reacts to a crisis with commonsense rather than emotion - but she cries when Crispin is exiled, and repeatedly risks her own safety to protect the young. She doesn't like to let Padra know how much she cares about him, because she's not altogether sure of his feelings for her.
PADRA
Padra is Crispin's best friend, and they share the same outlook of life. Padra's presence is reassuring, and if his responsibilities are sometimes heavy, he doesn't let it show. He dislikes injustice, especially towards the young, and can't stay away from the water for long. Padra has a long-term girlfriend, Arran, but hasn't asked her to marry him because he's not convinced that she'll have him.
HOPE
His real name is Hoppen, and he's much loved by the animals in charge of the Mole Palace nursery. Because he's short-sighted, he's brought up in secret. He has very good manners, adores his mother Thripple, and is a brave little soul determined to get places, even if he bumps into everything in his way.
NEEDLE
Needle works at the tower, especially on the Threadings - the woven, stiched and painted pictures showing the history of Mistmantle. Needle is a young hedgehog and is fiercely loyal to her friends and family. She is a close friend of Urchin's.
HUSK
As a young squirrel, Husk had many great qualities - he was strong, brave, resourceful and clever. But he was too much aware of all this, and too ready to consider himself superior to other animals. But he wanted to impress, and learned to conceal anything in himself which would meet with disapproval.
ASPEN
Aspen was the eldest of three sisters - the younger ones both married 'off the island', leaving Mistmantle for ever. She realised early in life that she had beauty, intelligence, and charm, and was determined to use these to the greatest advantage.
LUGG
Lugg is an old soldier, greying at the muzzle. Like most moles he says little, and what he does say is brief and down-to-earth. He is a good judge of character and a no-nonsense, dependable animal with a dry sense of humour.
TAY
Tay took an interest in the history of Mistmantle from a very early age, and then turned to a study of the law. She became expert in every aspect of the law and traditions of the island, and felt very strongly that they must always be upheld, however inconvenient. Dignity is important to her, and it is said that nobody has ever seen her laugh.
[edit] Expressions
'As bright as a squirrel, as loyal as a hedgehog, as determined as a mole, as valiant as an otter'
'The Heart protects the helpless'
[edit] Books
[edit] Urchin of the Riding Stars
(2005)On a night of riding stars a young orphan squirrel is found abandoned on the beach. Urchin is raised on the island of Mistmantle, surrounded by the enchanted mists that protect the island from outside threats. A prophecy has been made in his name, but Urchin has no idea of this nor of what the future will bring.
The rule of the kind and fair King and Queen Brushen is threatened by plot and intrigue within their court, and a wicked pair attempt to seize control of the island, introducing a regime of culling and forced labour. Urchin soon realises that he will have a very special role to play in the dramatic battle to save Mismantle that ensues.
[edit] Urchin and the Heartstone
(2006) A bright summer day dawns on Mistmantle as it prepares for the coronation of Crispin the Squirrel. Robes are stitched, cakes baked and wine brought up from cellars. And the Heartstone is readied, the unique gold- and silver-flecked stone that only the priest or the rightful ruler of the island can hold.Urchin discovers some family secrets after journeying to a foreign island that will change his life forever.
[edit] The Heir of Mistmantle
(2007) Triumphant heroes and brilliantly wicked villains do pitched battle both morally and physically in this heart-stopping adventure story.
When the heir of Mistmantle is kidnapped, every corner of the island is searched. But then news starts spreading about sightings of the infamous Captain Husk, who everyone believed was dead. The inhabitants of Mistmantle begin to worry that these events are connected and that Husk’s reign of evil is about to return.
Can Urchin and his trusty friend Juniper recover Catkin before her life is in serious danger?
[edit] Phrophecies
- 'HE WILL BRING DOWN A POWERFUL RULER' (this is said about Urchin before his birth)
- 'FEAR NOTHING UNTIL SQUIRRELS FLY THROUGH THE SKIES'
- 'THE ONE THAT FALLS FROM THE SKY MUST BE DESTROYED' (received by Husk in the dungeon)
[edit] Prologue
[edit] "Urchin of the Riding Stars"
On the island of Mistmantle, before dawn on an autumn morning, a squirrel lay on her side and watched the shooting stars dash across the sky. It took her mind from the pain. It was a rare night, when the stars left their orbits and swirled so low across the sky that it seemed you could reach up and touch them. These nights did not happen often, and when they did, they always meant that a great even would happen. For good or for bad? Nobody could know which. Even old Brother Fir, watching from the highest turret in Mistmantle Tower, didn’t know. The mother squirrel didn’t know, and didn’t care. She lay panting, longing for help with the long, hard birth. But she was a stranger here, and knew nobody. Her own island was far away, and she hadn’t dared to stay there. A prophecy had been made about this baby. He will bring down a powerful ruler. If the king heard of that he would surely have the baby killed, being ruthless enough to do it. She had hidden on the first trading ship she could find, and escaped. She had hoped the ship would go to Mistmantle. She had heard great things about the secret island, where a kind king ruled from a high tower on the rocks and red squirrels, hedgehogs, moles and otters lived and worked together. It was a good safe place, protected by the enchanted mists folded around it like a cloak. Because of those enchantments, very few ships ever reached the island — but, at last, this one did. Already in birth pain, she had slipped from ship to shore and crawled to the shelter of the rocks. No creature was near. Those who were awake were high on the hilltops, watching the stars. A sudden spear of pain made her lurch and gasp, but it took her breath away so completely that she could not even scream, Birth should not be like this, Something was terribly wrong, and she was alone. Raising her head she could see lights shining high in Mistmantle Tower, but it was far away, soaring towards the night sky. As stars swirled over the island the squirrel’s baby slithered into the world, a pale scrap of a thing with thin, downy fur that glimmered under the starlight. With the greatest effort she had ever made in her life, the mother sat up, nuzzled him, and bit through the cord. ‘Heart keep you,’ she whispered, and laid the warmth of her face against him. ‘Be happy. May someone find you and love you.’ Before she could give him a name, she was dead. The baby lay on the shore, pale as moonlight, showing up clearly against the dark rocks. A gull flying overhead caught sight of something like a scrap of fish, swooped, snatched him up, and rose into the sky. Mistmantle Tower was near. That would be the place to perch and gobble down the meal. In a dash of silver a star rushed past, and another. The gull swerved and soared. A falling star dazzled it, and another made it veer from its course. Scared and angered, it opened its beak to screech. The newborn squirrel fell, spinning, gaining speed. If he had hit the rocks he would never have breathed again, but he fell in shallow water and the waves washed him on to cold, wet sand. In Mistmatle Tower, animals had crowded round the windows all night to watch the stars. The best of it was over now, and they were smothering their yawns with paws and settling into their nests for a brief sleep. But in the highest turret of all Brother Fir remained watching, leaning his paws on the sill to ease his lame leg. The squirrel priest was old, but his eyes were still sharp and he missed nothing. When he saw something white tumble from the sky, he leaned out to see better. Sometimes, fragments of rock would fall to earth as the stars passed, and it could be one of those. Below, from another window, Crispin stretched forward and turned his face to the sky. He was a young squirrel living in the tower, an attendant to the hedgehog King Brushen. Though he was young he had just been made a member of the Circle, the small group of animals closest to the king. He craned his neck from the window. When he, too, saw something white spin down through the air, he leapt from the window and ran swiftly down the wall to the shore. In the dim, early light, Crispin knelt by the thing at the water’s edge. He had expected something hard and bright, like a precious stone, but what he found was a curled-up scrap that could be anything. A starfish? It moved. As Crispin watched it gave a thin cry, uncurled and waved a tiny paw in the air. He heard the shuffling step of Brother Fir behind him, but was too fascinated to look round. ‘It’s a baby!’ he said. Well, Hearts bless it, so it is!’ said Fir. ‘Pick it up, young Crispin, don’t leave it there!’ Crispin wasn’t used to babies. He scooped it up awkwardly in both paws, afraid of hurting it, but it stretched and wriggled, and without thinking he cradled it against the warmth of his shoulder. Brother Fir took off the old grey cloak he wore. ‘You young squirrels don’t feel the cold,’ he said. ‘You’re always going out without your cloaks. Wrap him in that before he freezes.’ ‘How did he get here?’ wondered Crispin, watching the baby’s face as he wrapped the cloak around it. ‘He must be very new.’ ‘A few hours old, I think,’ said Fir. ‘And most unusual. Look at that fur!’ Crispin didn’t know what newborn babies were supposed to look like, but he knew there was something strange about this one. It was paler than the sand. ‘We need to find his mother,’ he said. ‘She must be worried.’ ‘She must be dead,’ Fir said bluntly. ‘Or dying, or she’s rejected it. A mother separated from her baby would be screaming to split the rocks. She’d have the whole island out looking for him.’ Crispin handed the baby to Fir, ran round the shore to find a group of otters, and sent them to search for the baby’s mother. He returned to find a chubby female squirrel bounding rather heavily down the beach, and even from a distance he could hear her calling to Fir. ‘What you found?’ She bellowed. ‘A one of them stars?’ Crispin flinched. Apple was a warmhearted squirrel, but not very bright and extremely talkative. ‘Morning, Brother Fir, sir — oh! Morning, Crispin, I’ve come looking for stars, I mean, bits of stars, I been up a tree all night to watch them stars. Don’t know what bits of stars look like when they’re on the beach, but I come looking, all the same. You found one?’ ‘Better than a star,’ said Fir. He lifted back a corner of the cloak, and the baby blinked sleepily. ‘A baby!’ Apple’s deep brown eyes widened. ‘Ooh! Can I have a little hold? Crispin thought this might not be a good idea, but Fir handed her the baby. She made little comforting noises to it as it nestled into her fur. ‘Whose is he?’ she asked. ‘He’s lost,’ said Fir. ‘He was washed up by the sea. We’re looking for his mother.’ ‘If you can’t find her, I’ll have him,’ she said promptly. ‘I don’t mind. I’ll take care of him. I love babies, me.’ ‘Thank you, Apple,’ said Fir as he took the baby back. ‘We’ll take him to my turret, to warm him by the fire. Will you find a nursing mother who can feed him, in case his own can’t be found?’ ‘I’ll look after him,’ called Apple over her shoulder as she hopped away. ‘Don’t let her near him!’ said Crispin. “She doesn’t know her teeth from her tail-tip. She’d forget where she’d left him.’ ‘She’s a motherly soul,’ said Fir. ‘And there’s a whole colony of squirrels in Anemone Wood, all bringing each other up. They’re capable of raising one extra youngling between them. They cope well enough with their own. You seem to have survived.’ They began the long climb back to the tower. Crispin would rather have skimmed up the walls, but he slowed down to keep pace with Fir. ‘You told her he was washed up by the sea,’ he said. ‘Hm. I certainly did,’ said Fir. ‘He’s almost certainly an orphan, and not from here. We’ve never had a squirrel that colour before. That makes him different enough from other squirrels, without them thinking he came tumbling down out of the sky on a night of riding stars. And if I know Apple, she’ll soon forget that we had anything to do with him. Let her think she found him all herself. We’ll tell him all he needs to know when the time is right. They stopped by a window so that Fir could ease his lame leg and get his breath back, and Crispin looked down at the tideline. It was scattered with all sizes of shells, coloured pebbles, driftwood, shining clusters of seaweed, tattered feathers and the spiny shells of sea urchins. ‘Urchin,’ he said. ‘Can we call him Urchin? He was found on the shore.’ Fir raised a paw. ‘May the Heart bless you and keep you, Urchin of Mistmantle,’ he said. And far away in the other side of the island a wave of the sea lifted Urchin’s mother, cradled her, and carried her gently away.
[edit] "Urchin and the Heartstone"
On the Isle of Whitewings, three animals met in an underground chamber by night. One was Brother Flame, a tall, thin squirrel in a priest's tunic. The second was Larch, a small female hedgehog with a serious, pointed face. And the third was Cedar, a squirrel the colour of firelight, darting urgently into the chamber.
'It's too late,' she said. 'They've gone.'
‘Then they're sure to find the squirrel and bring him here,' said Flame gravely. 'They won't dare come back without him.'
'He'll be in great danger,' said Larch. 'Did you find out his name?'
'Urchin,' said Cedar. 'Urchin of Mistmantle.'
She spoke the island's name carefully, as if it were something precious. Cedar had never been to Mistmantle, but she had dreamed of it all her life.
[edit] "The Heir of Mistmantle"
From the highest turret of Mistmantle Tower, Urchin the pale-furred squirrel and old Brother Fir the priest leant out to get the best view they could. They looked down on the sparkling sea, light golden sand, the treetops, the meadows and the dark red fur of a squirrel leaping from branch to branch.
'There he is!' said Urchin.
Squirrels darted out of the way, moles jumped to a smart salute and hedgehogs hurried to open doors as King Crispin dashed through the bright summer woods to Mistmantle Tower, his paws outstretched, his tail streaming out behind him. Crispin bounded up the stairs and flew along corridors, but as he reached the doors of the royal chambers he heard the high-pitched mewing of a newborn squirrel.
The guard mole opened the door to a room full of busy females. Mother Huggen the Hedgehog beamed with satisfaction as she bent over the queen. Moth the Mole was washing her paws while squirrel maids whispered excitedly in a corner. But Crispin, unbuckling his sword and flinging it into a corner, only saw Cedar the Queen gazing at the squeaking bundle in her arms.
'A daughter,' she said as Crispin came to sit beside her.
The baby squirrel's eyes were tightly shut, and her paws curled against her mouth. As Crispin touched the tiny pink ears she opened her eyes, blinked, and, as if she saw nothing worth staying awake for, went back to sleep. But Crispin, taking the baby in his arms, felt that nothing could ever make him turn his eyes away from that small, sleepy face.
Once in his life before he had held a baby as new as this. He had been much younger then, rescuing a newly born orphan squirrel from the sea. That pale, wet little scrap, found on the shore and named after the sea urchins, had become an exceptional young animal who had resisted tyranny and faced dangers, but still liked to run up and down walls and splash in the sea with his friends. Looking down at this new infant squirrel, Crispin wondered what her future would be.
'She's a little beauty, Your Majesty,' said Mother Huggen. 'A right little princess. Two of you young squirrels, go and fetch Brother Fir and ask him to come and give her a blessing.'
'And send for Longpaw the messenger to spread the news around the island,' said Crispin, still gazing at the baby. 'Tell everyone!'
'And can he tell them what her name is?' asked Mother Huggen.
So, on a summer morning, Catkin was born to Queen Cedar and King Crispin. She was born on Mistmantle, the island fairly and wisely ruled by her parents and their captains, and guarded by the enchanted mists folded about it. As she grew up she would learn about her island, and how few ships reached it through the mist, and how nobody who belonged to the island could leave by water and return by water. It was dangerous to go through the mists. Few animals left the island, and fewer returned - but most animals wouldn't dream of leaving Mistmantle, with its valiant otters, its bright-spirited squirrels, its loyal and hardworking moles and hedgehogs. There were woods and shores, burrows and tunnels, caves and waterfalls, hills and valleys, plenty to eat, good friends, and the king and queen in Mistmantle Tower high on the rocks. But for now Catkin slept in her father's arms, her paws curled.
[edit] Chapters
[edit] Chapter 1 of "Urchin of the Riding Stars"
From the highest point of Watchtop Hill, Urchin could see the whole island.
For days, squirrels and hedgehogs had dragged rough branches up this hill. Their bonfire was ready to light now, stacked up so high that Urchin knew he had to climb it. He was old enough to manage it, and young enough to want to. Springing swiftly from one branch to the next, twirling his tail to balance himself, he reached the very top, gripped with his hind claws and dusted moss from his fur. He was still as pale as honey, with the red-squirrel colour only at the tips of his ears and tail. When he straightened up, shook his ears and looked out over Mistmantle, he felt he was lord of the island.
Tonight would be a night of riding stars. The animals would gather here as the air turned cool, light the bonfire, watch the stars swirl and dance through the darkening sky, and guess at what great things would happen next.
Anemone Wood spread out below him to the south, with a first touch of autumn turning the leaves to crisp gold. Further away, on the shore, otters chased each other in play. A line of small rowing boast bobbed on the water. Urchin could never understand why otters were so fond of boats, when they all swam so powerfully. Maybe they just liked anything to do with water.
A tall ship was moored by the jetty, with its sails furled and its painted figurehead gleaming with colour in the sunshine. A working party of squirrels and otters had been lined up to unload it, passing crate after crate along the line. Urchin guessed at what might be in those crates. Wool for cloaks, maybe paint for the workshops, or rare wine for King Brushen’s cellars? Tomorrow he would be down there, doing real, grown-up work, helping to load the ship with timber.
He didn’t really want to think about tomorrow. Balancing and curling his hind claws he turned a little further to gaze far over the treetops to Mistmantle Tower, and his heart stretched out to it.
The tower was the place he longed for. On a high outcrop of rock, gleaming in shell-pink, white and pale sandstone-yellow that was almost gold, Mistmantle Tower rose like a statue to the sky. From a turret, a pennant fluttered in the breeze. A young female squirrel was hopping up the steps carrying something in a basket, and the moles on guard stood back to let her in. She might be on of the queen’s attendants/ Urchin envied her. He even envied the kitchen mole who appeared at a low window and threw dirty water into a drain. From the king in the Throne Room to the kitchen mole in the scullery, life in the tower must be wonderful.
He had been there, of course. All the Mistmantle creatures were invited to the tower for the great occasions, like the Spring Festival. Apple said that when she was little, there were all sorts of wonderful feasts and festivals with banquets, music and garlands. There wasn’t so much of that now, but at least Urchin knew what it was like to stand in the vast Gathering Chamber of the tower. He had been there for the naming ceremony of Prince Tumble, the only child of King Brushen and Queen Spindle. It seemed that all the island’s creatures had crammed into the tower that day. Wonderful Threadings hung from the walls, stitched and woven pictures showing stories of the island, but there was neither room nor time to take a good look at them. Even following the crowd up the stairs had been confusing. Urchin had wondered how anyone ever found their way out.
The procession had been magnificent. The animals of the Circle had entered first, then there had been a gasp of admiration as the three Captains of Mistmantle stepped proudly down the hall with gold and silver glittering on their robes and circlets of gold on their heads. First Husk the Squirrel. Then Crispin the Squirrel and Padra the Otter. Brother Fir had followed them, limping, in his plain white tunic. Then, at last, tall, strong and splendid, came King Brushen with Queen Spindle at his side and all the colours of a jewel house gleaming from their mantles, and the queen’s friend, Lady Aspen the Squirrel, with the bright-eyed wriggling baby hedgehog, Prince Tumble, in her arms. Finally, with every animal stretching up on its clawtips, Brother Fir had lifted up Prince Tumble and blessed him.
Urchin had not been back to the tower since. He looked past it, into the enchanted mists that surrounded and protected the island so well that few ships ever reached it. Islanders who belonged here, if they left by water, could never return by water. The mists would prevent it. The otters took care never to row their boats beyond the mists.
He was trying to work out how long it would be until nightfall when a fir cone hit him on the shoulder.
‘He’s showing off,’ said a squirrel voice.
‘Ignore him,’ said another.
Two other squirrels had reached the hilltop — Gleaner and Crackle. They were never apart, and always looked at Urchin as if they’d just been planning something very nasty for him. Crackle seemed to go out of her way to make trouble, but Gleaner did it without even trying.
Urchin looked past them and saw more animals working their way up the hill, the squirrels taking short cuts as they leapt from one tree to the next. Gleaner and Crackle were followed by Urchin’s great friend Needle, a hedgehog with unusually sharp prickles, and around her — not too close — was a scampering, clambering bunch of very young squirrels, barely old enough to get up to Watchtop at al; without being carried. Beyond them Urchin’s foster-mother, Apple, lumbered up the hill, keeping mostly to the path. When she did jump on a branch, it bent alarmingly.
‘Urchin!’ squeaked a small squirrel in excitement.
‘It’s Urchin!’ cried another, bounding forwards.
‘Wait there!’ called Urchin. If they climbed up to meet him they’d probably bring the whole heap down on themselves, so he sprang down to them. He was popular with the young squirrels, and in no time they were swarming over him, wanting rides on his back and holding out their paws to be swung round. Needle came and stood beside him.
‘There’s Captain Crispin on the beach,’ she said. ‘And Captain Padra.’
Urchin looked down to the shore and saw Padra the Otter lolloping from the water and rolling in the sand to dry his wet fur. Captain Crispin stood by, holding his cloak.
All three captains had been friends since they were small. In time they had been chose to be pages at the tower, then promoted to the Circle, and now they were captains, the highest rank on the island. Captain Husk was the king’s most trusted friend and adviser, and mostly stayed in the tower. Captain Padra had always taken special care of the shores and the creatures who lived by water. But Crispin took a particular care for the woodlands and the Anemone Wood creatures — he even appeared to take an interest in Urchin.
He was Urchin’s hero. If anyone had asked Urchin what he’d like to be, he could have truthfully said, ‘ I want to be like Captain Crispin.’ But he wouldn’t have told anyone that. It was a treasured dream, not to be spoken. And they’d only laugh.
Besides, nobody had asked him. He’d be loading timber on to ships for the rest of his life.
The youngest of the little squirrels had fallen over and was whimpering. Urchin picked her up and sat on a log with the squirrel on his lap and Needle beside him.
‘Isn’t it wonderful up here?’ she said. ‘Look at that ship!’ Then she looked down at her paws. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Urchin. ‘I don’t mind.’ He knew she hadn’t meant to remind him of his future unloading ships.
Crackle popped up behind them.
‘Oh, so Needle’s still speaking to us,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to talk to him, Needle, he’s just joining a common working party and you’re a tower hedgehog. You’ll be off to the workrooms tomorrow, won’t you? Painting, weaving, sewing, making the Threadings, goodness knows what else. Very talented, aren’t we? Very privileged. Much too good to speak to the rest of us.’
Needle turned quickly.
‘Ouch!’ said Crackle.
‘Oh, did you get caught in my spines?’ asked Needle politely. ‘You shouldn’t get so close to me. Ignore her, Urchin.’
‘You must be looking forward to tomorrow,’ said Urchin.
‘I haven’t liked to talk about it,’ she said awkwardly.
‘What, because you’ve been chosen for a training at the tower and I haven’t? said Urchin. ‘Talk all you like. I’m very glad for you. It’s just that…’
He looked at the shore again. Captain Crispin was no longer there. A few sailors and otters sat on the jetty, dabbling their paws in the water.
‘I had dreams,’ he said quietly. ‘Sometimes I think I’m meant to do something special.’ He wriggled his paws. ‘Maybe it’s because of not knowing who I am. I don’t even know how I got here, or where from. I don’t know who my parents are — or were — and I don’t even look like the rest of you. Apple always told me I was special. I used to think, perhaps, I’d been chosen for something. I…you won’t laugh, will you?’
‘Of course not!’ said Needle.
He wouldn’t have said this to anyone but Needle. Even with her, it wasn’t easy.
‘I was born on a night of riding stars,’ he said. ‘Wonderful things are supposed to happen after those nights, but I don’t think anything very exciting followed that one. It was as if…well, as if I was what happened. As if I was sent here that night, and I have something vital to do. And I’ve tried really hard at everything I’ve ever done. I knew I wasn’t really a Mistmantle squirrel, and I’d have to make an effort to become one. And I have made the effort, but I’ve got nothing to show for it. Nothing except loading ships for the rest of my life.’
‘What makes you think it’s for the rest of your life? asked Needle. ‘You might go on to —‘
She stopped, as Apple had finally appeared at the top of the hill. She was looking down at the moored ship while she got her breath back.
‘Loading boats!’ she grumbled, and flopped down heavily beside Needle and Urchin. The log rocked, and the little squirrel on Urchin’s lap squeaked. ‘It’s all wrong, this. They never used to do it this way.
They never had no working parties and that, and all the work that needed doing got done, all the same, and we had a lot more fun in them days.’
Urchin and Needle grinned swiftly at each other. There was no point in arguing, or in speaking at all, once Apple had something to say.
‘The boats all got loaded up and unloaded, too, and all the nuts and berries and that all got gathered up and stored, and all the making of cloaks and cordials and the fishing and the work on the boats, and looking after the tower and making medicines, and keeping our nest nice, all that, it all got done. And these says it’s all working parties, isn’t it?’ She looked around for support. ‘Isn’t it, though?’
‘Yes, Apple,’ said Needle.
‘It’s working parties all the time now, and before you’re up in the mornings it’s “all the West Shore otters report for beachcombing” and “all the Anemone Wood squirrels to report to the cone stores” and I don’t know what else. Here’s Urchin looking after them little ones, hello, little one, climbing trees, all the things he should be doing at his age and now he’s got to go and — ‘
‘Unload timber!’ squeaked Gleaner, and giggled.
Needle’s spines bristled. ‘And what work will you be doing, Gleaner?’ she asked sweetly.
‘They haven’t told me yet,’ said Gleaner a wriggle and a shrug. ‘They’re still thinking about me. They may be considering me for work in the tower.’ She wriggled again. ‘Of course, I don’t suppose I’ll get in, but it’s very nice to be considered.’
‘Who said you were being considered?’ asked Needle.
‘Mind your own business,’ snapped Gleaner, and added in a whisper, ‘you should have been culled at birth.’
‘Culled?’ said Urchin. ‘That’s not funny!’
‘And that’s another thing that never used to happen in the old days,’ said Apple crossly. ‘There wasn’t no culling.’
The small squirrel twisted to look up at Urchin. ‘What’s culling?’ she asked.
‘Never you mind, bless your little ears,’ said Apple.
‘There was a mole baby taken to be culled last week,’ said Crackle loudly.
‘That’s enough out of you!’ said Apple.
‘But it’s kind, isn’t it, to kill the weak ones,’ said Gleaner as Needle took the little squirrel by the paw and dragged her away to play. ‘It’s cruel to let them live if they’re weal or they’re not right. Far more sensible to kill them off. They do them in very quickly.’
‘They dope them first, don’t they?’ said Crackle.
‘You just be quiet,’ snapped Apple over her shoulder. ‘It’s a terrible thing, and we never used to do it in the old days.’
Gleaner sat up very straight. ‘It’s the king’s law!’ she said indignantly. ‘You can’t say the king’s wrong!’
All Mistmantle animals were fiercely loyal to the king, and always had been. Turning against the king was unthinkable. Hedgehogs especially were famous for their loyalty and hard work, just as otters were known for their courage and good humor, and squirrels for their bright spirits. Moles were so much underground it could be difficult to get to know them at all, but they were determined and reliable.
‘He’s a real good king, a good king,’ agreed Apple firmly. ‘He’s just got some funny laws, that’s all. Like that…’ she glanced at the little squirrel, who had escaped from Needle and was climbing up Urchin’s leg, ‘ …that law we were talking about, and them working parties. And them’s not good laws, in fact, that thing we’re talking about, that’s a bad law, there’s no good in that, can’t be, but he’s a good king, a right good king, but them laws just isn’t good laws, that’s all, he’s got some bad laws.’
‘Pardon?’ said Urchin.
‘Oh, don’t make her say it all again,’ sighed Gleaner.
'I wish they wouldn’t though,’ said Needle. ‘My mum’s having another baby and I just couldn’t bear it if …’
Urchin looked down at the squirrel, but she was staring at something a little way off.
‘The baby should be all right,’ he said.
‘But even babies that are just a bit weak and small get culled,’ said Needle. ‘Or a teeny bit lame or shortsighted.’
‘What’s the baby staring at?’ demanded Apple loudly. ‘Oh, my goodness, it’s him!’
‘It’s Captain Crispin!’ exclaimed Urchin, He jumped to his hind paws and nearly dripped the little squirrel as Captain Crispin leapt from a tree and landed on the hilltop.
‘Good morning!’ he called. ‘What a splendid bonfire!’
As a captain, he wore a gold circlet on his head and a belted sword at hi hip. Thrilled and flustered at the same time, Urchin bowed awkwardly and wondered if his fur was dirty or sticking up. That was the trouble with being fair. The dirt showed. And he wished he’d been found doing something more impressive than looking after an infant. He stammered a good morning.
Apple curtsied and wobbled a bit. ‘Good morning, Captain Crispin, lovely morning, Captain Crispin, sir, we’ve built our bonfire, sir, we’re all ready for the stars tonight, we’ll be having a grand supper up here, I’ve brought some of my apple and mint cordial, would you like some cordial, sir?’
Urchin’s claws curled in embarrassment. Apple’s cordial was famous for repelling insects, but it tasted terrible.
‘Thank you, Mistress Apple, but I’ll do without that pleasure today,’ said Crispin. ‘But I’d like to speak to young Urchin, if I may. Urchin, will you come with me?’
Urchin, astonished, tried to stammer a reply. He glanced at Apple for help, didn’t get any, and only just remembered to hand the young squirrel to Needle. He dusted down his fur as he ran to Captain Crispin’s side and they walked down the hill path.
Crispin asked Urchin how Apple was, and what work had been chosen for him, and how the autumn harvest-gathering was doing, while Urchin tried to guess at what the best answers would be and to say something intelligent without showing off — but Captain Crispin was so friendly and natural that, in time, he forgot to be shy. And finally, Crispin turned to him and asked, ‘Will you be on Watchtop Hill tonight, to watch the stars?’
‘Oh, yes, sir!’ said Urchin.
‘Only, if you’d like to, you could come to the tower,’ said Crispin. ‘Captain Padra and I are going to Brother Fir’s turret room to watch from there. Probably the best view of the island. You’re invited, if you’d like to join us.’
Urchin felt a shiver of joy through his fur even though he was sure he must have misheard. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally he managed to say, ‘Me, sir? The tower?’
‘Certainly you, Urchin, if they can manage here without you,’ said Crispin, ‘and if you don’t mind missing the bonfire. Make your own way to the tower, around twilight, and I’ll tell the guards to expect you. They’ll direct you to Fir’s turret.’
‘Thank you, sir!’ gasped Urchin.
‘Thank you, Urchin!’ said Crispin, and with a leap he was bounding down the hill. Urchin watched him out of sight, then ran full tilt to the nearest tree, shinned up it, and turned somersaults for pure joy. A night of riding stars, the tower, and Crispin.
[edit] "Chapter 1 of Urchin and the Heartstone"
Wild seas and storming rain had battered the coast of Mistmantle all night, making squirrels scurry down from lurching tree-tops and hide in the roots. But by morning the gale had passed and the island lay washed and sparkling, with the wet stones of Mistmantle Tower gleaming pale pink and gold in the summer light. Squirrels darting from the windows on errands scrabbled to keep their grip as they ran down the walls. On the rocks around the tower columns of moles saluted and stood to attention as Captain Lugg the Mole trained them, and in the tower itself there was breathless bustle. The island was preparing for the coronation of Crispin the Squirrel.
Delicious wafts of spice and heat came from the kitchens where moles, squirrels and hedgehogs chopped nuts, lifted sticky golden cakes from ovens, and hung bunches of mint in the windows to keep the flies away. Otters piled up casks of wine in the cellars. Dancers and choirs ran up and down stairs looking for somewhere to practise, acrobats rehearsed on turrets and hung up tightropes which Mother Huggen the Hedgehog used as washing lines for the choir robes, and young animals hurried from the Spring Gate with splashing buckets of cold water for thirsty animals. Hedgehogs struggled to carry robes and Threadings down the stairs to the vast Gathering Chamber, where carpenters sawed and hammered to finish a new gallery.
The Gathering Chamber was the most impressive room on the island, but today it was crammed with stacked-up benches, robes, busy animals preparing for the coronation and more animals trying to look busy so they'd be allowed to stay and help. Threadings, the stitched, woven and painted pictures showing the stories of the island, lay draped across chairs until somebody could hang them up. In the middle of all this, Urchin, a young squirrel win unusually pale fur, was trying to find a way out.
Captain Padra the Otter had given him a very simple order — 'just nip down to the shore, Urchin, and ask Arran to come up' — but it was easier said than done. Urchin may have been Captain Padra’s page and a Companion to the King, but at this moment he didn't feel at all significant. He was just a very young squirrel trying to get out of the door while a dozen large hedgehogs carrying stepladders were coming the other way, and somebody had just left a stack of cushions in the doorway because there was nowhere else to put them. It was easiest to jump out of a window and run down the tower wall.
The fresh, warm air was wonderful, and sunshine soaked into his fur. He delivered his message to Padra's wife, Captain Arran, who jammed her captain's circlet on to her rough, tufty fur and made her way round the tower to the Gathering Chamber.
Urchin paused for a moment, absorbing the sun and the fresh sea breeze. A few leisurely otters rowed, fished and taught their little ones to swim in the shallows as if they didn't know a thing about a coronation or the flurry in the tower. It was late summer, too beautiful a day to spend it all in the tower. He looked out to sea, and looked again.
Enchanted mists surrounded Mistmantle. No animal who truly belonged to the island could leave by water and return by water. The mists prevented it, and few ships found their way through them to the island. But something was moving in the mists now. Shading his eyes with his paw, Urchin watched. First he saw something, then he didn't, then he did. He should let Padra know.
He ran round the tower again and skimmed up to the window of the Gathering Chamber. As his best friend, Needle the Hedgehog, was spreading red-velvet cushions on the window seat he was very nearly knocked back down again. He managed to keep his balance and scramble over, but Needle's spines were exceptionally sharp and he couldn't avoid being prickled. He wriggled his way through the crowd to Padra and caught the smile on his face, but Padra always looked as if he were about to laugh.
'Captain Arran is on her way, sir,' he said, 'and I think there's a ship coming. Something's moving in the mists.'
'Strange,' commented Padra. 'Visitors for the coronation?' Needle glanced round the Gathering Chamber as if trying to work out where to put them.
'You two, go and have a good look,' said Padra. 'Send word if you need me, but I'll be down presently. Get a bit of fresh sea air and sunshine. And, Urchin, look out for a squirrel called Juniper.'
'Juniper?' repeated Urchin.
'Young squirrel, bit younger than you two, dark fur,' said Padra. 'He has a crippled hind paw so was brought up in hiding, but he's free now. He needs to get to know other animals. He's had a lonely sort of life and lived among otters more than squirrels — which hasn't done him any harm, of course, but he needs to meet other young squirrels. I mentioned you, and it turned out that his foster-mother had already told him about how you brought Crispin back to Mistmantle. He really wants to meet you.'
'Captain Padra, sir!' called someone, and Padra was hurried away by a hedgehog carrying a robe. Urchin ran down the tower wall again and waited on the shore until Needle, trundling over the rocks, caught up. There was no sign of anything in the mists now — maybe it had just been a trick of the sunlight.
'That must be Juniper,' said Needle. At the water's edge stood a squirrel who looked a little younger than Urchin, thinner and darker than most squirrels. One hind paw was small and curled. Not long before Captain Husk had tried to have all weak or injured young animals put to death, and many of them had been brought up in hiding.
Juniper must have heard his own name, because he had turned so that Urchin could see a pointy face. He was watching them shyly as if waiting to see whether they would be friends or not and hoping they would, and Urchin knew what that was like. He himself had always been 'that very pale squirrel', the orphan squirrel, the odd one out. He scampered down the sand, followed by Needle, and Juniper twitched a nervous smile. His eyes were dark and bright as berries.
'Are you Juniper?' asked Urchin. 'I'm Urchin.'
'A Companion to the King!' said Juniper with admiration.
Urchin tried to make the sort of easy, laughing reply that Captain Padra would have come up with, but unfortunately he couldn't think of one. 'Um... suppose so,' he said, and nodded at Needle. 'Needle's a Companion to the King, too. Where are you from?'
Juniper turned and pointed towards the forest stretching out to the west and rising into the hills. 'Do you see, sir, between the trees, just beyond the dark row of firs?' he said, and his voice was soft with shyness. 'Past there, sir, there's a waterfall.'
'I'm not a sir,' said Urchin. 'You lived at the top of the waterfall?'
'No, s— no,' said Juniper. 'Behind it, in the caves halfway down. Damson the squirrel found me when I was a baby, and looked after me. I never went anywhere else much because she had to keep me hidden, but now I'd like to live in the wood.' His ears twitched. 'So long as I can still see Damson, that is. She brought me up, and she's old now. She shouldn't be alone.' He looked down shyly at his paws, then up at the tower. 'Who are all those hedgehogs?'
Urchin and Needle turned to look. A group of tall male hedgehogs stood in a huddle on the rocks.
'They're some of the Hedgehog Host,' said Needle. 'It was one of Husk's ideas. When Husk was in power the strongest of the male hedgehogs were sent away to do mining and quarrying right over on the North Corner, in the Rough Rocks. Even married hedgehogs with families, like Docken — he's Thripple's husband, Hope's daddy — they all had to go. They've been set free now, but they still sort of stay together and call themselves the Hedgehog Host. Some of them might be promoted to the Circle, like Docken and... um... that tall one that all the hedgehog maids fancy. Gorsen. Gorsen the Gorgeous, or at least he thinks he is. Gorsen and Docken work at the tower.'
That must be good,' said Juniper with a wistful look that Urchin understood. Juniper was a bit like himself a year ago, when he had longed to be a tower squirrel but hadn't liked to say so. A very wet otter was loping up the shore towards them, smiling brightly. When he reached them he screwed up his face and shook himself dry with a flurry of spray.
'Fingal!' said Needle. 'You did that on purpose!'
'Just the thing for a hot day,' said Fingal, who was Padra's younger brother and had the same pleasant look about him.
'Have you seen any sign of a ship, Fingal?' asked Urchin. There was still no sign of it — perhaps it was steering round the island, trying to find a way through the mists.
'No,' said Fingal, and glanced over his shoulder. 'Still no. Should I? Oh, hello, Juniper. Don't often see you here.'
'So you two know each other?' said Needle.
'The otters sort of brought me up, too,' explained Juniper.
'Don't know about bringing him up, but you know how it is,' said Fingal. 'Where there's water, there's always an otter or two. Nobody has a clue who Juniper's parents are. Damson found him all by himself and kept him secret in the days when they killed anything with half a whisker out of place, so we all taught him the really useful things, like swimming and sliding down waterfalls.'
'I don't know who my parents are, either,' said Urchin to Juniper. 'Apple the Squirrel looked after me.’
'Oh, I know about you,' said Juniper with admiration. 'Only, living where I did, I didn't get to hear about everything that happened on the island. I've heard bits of the story, about Captain Husk and everything, but —'
'Oh, it's simple,' interrupted Fingal. 'King Brushen was the king, but it was Husk who really made all the rules. Husk was so clever nobody realised just how bad he was, him and his Lady Aspen. Husk had Crispin sent into exile, my brother Padra took Urchin as his page and taught him to do all those pagey things, and Urchin went off to find Crispin and now Crispin's the king. He hasn't been crowned yet, but he's still the king. That's all. Anyone want to skim stones?'
Urchin understood more and more why Captain Padra had kept his talkative, carefree young brother out of the way while Husk was in power. Fingal chose two round, flat pebbles and loped down to the shore with them. Needle edged closer to Urchin, who turned to face her so he wouldn't be prickled.
'No ship,' she said. 'If there was one, I expect it had to turn back. They usually do. Do you think Juniper can manage to skim stones? I mean, with his bad hind paw. His balance must be affected.'
'I won't show him up,' Urchin whispered back. Fingal flicked a pebble across the water and watched it skip twice before it sank. Needle's throw wasn't good, and as Juniper seemed to be holding back, Urchin went next. He couldn't quite bring himself to make a hopeless throw, but it wasn't a good one either. The stone bounced once, and sank.
'Your turn, Juniper,' he said.
The pebble flew from Juniper's paw. Once, twice, three, four, five times it skimmed over the water. Urchin gave a gasp of admiration.
'Well done!' called Needle and Urchin. Juniper turned and smiled shyly as if he thought he should apologise.
'The otters taught me that,' he said.
'Can you teach me?' asked Urchin. For a moment he was afraid he'd said the wrong thing — it was as if he was asking to know Juniper's secret — but he soon realised it was exactly the right thing. He had put Juniper in charge.
'It's — it's all in the wrist,' said Juniper, clearly astonished to find himself teaching anything to Urchin. 'You do it like this.'
They went on skimming stones, as Urchin improved his aim and Juniper grew more confident. By the time they were running out of suitable stones, Urchin felt as if he'd known Juniper for years. They were friends, and he knew they always would be. It was as simple as that.
'There's a whole heap of stones by the jetty,' said Fingal. 'The ships use them for ballast, but you can always find a few for skimming.'
'What's ballast?' asked Juniper.
'Rubbishy stuff for putting in ships to make the right weight,' said Fingal. 'But nobody minds if we skim them.' He turned to look for a flat stone, then suddenly straightened up and seemed to be watching something. 'Look! Look, can you see that?'
All of them looked out to sea as Fingal pointed. Slowly, still misted and unclear, a ship was emerging. They watched her, minute by minute, the mists still hanging thinly about her like smoke. The stones were left untouched. Urchin called to two young mole sisters nearby, Jig and Fig, and sent them to tell Padra and the king.
He had expected billowing sails and flags, maybe, hung from the masts, coming to celebrate Crispin's coronation. But the ship that now appeared looked as if the previous night's storm had battered her into defeat. The mast tip hung crooked, the sails were in tatters, and she limped to the island like a dying animal.
