be drowned in full armor?"
The Captain looked at his Thousand Eye tunic and red velvet cloak. "But what
will Milady say?"
Emboldened by his companions' actions, the weasel called Fdulwhisker skimmed
his round shield over the battlements. "Don't listen to Brogg, mates. We've
heard enough lies. That mad cat will get the lot of us killed to save mis old
ruin." The weasel whirled at a sound behind him, but too late.
Tsarmina was standing mere. She dealt him a furious blow, killing him where he
stood. Lifting the body effortlessly, she threw it contemptuously over the
battlements, then turned upon the rest.
"Who's next?" she challenged mem. "Does anyone want to join him? Come on, step
up. Let's see who wants to disobey the Queen of Kotir."
They backed off fearfully; the slightest scowl or mutter now would mean
instant death.
Tsarmina snatched up a fallen spear and jabbed it toward one group, then at
another. The troops cringed, cowering close to the walls. She laughed insanely
as she snapped at Ifae stout weapon with a single fierce movement.
"Look at you! Call yourselves warriors! I could break you as easily as I
snapped that spear. But I won't. I'm going to use you to break those
woodlanders out there. The time has come for you to act like proper soldiers.
You'll fight or die, either victory or death. I'll show you how to make wa—"
Whump!
The whole roof shook. , Terrified, the troops fell flat.
Tsarmina dashed to the edge, in time to see a second boulder come whizzing
through the air like some giant shapeless bird.
Whoom!
It struck halfway up the wall. Masonry fell, splashing into the water from the
gap left by the striking missile.
As the roof shook under the impact of another boulder, the wildcat Queen
grasped the battlement, staring wildly across
the deep flooded area.
* * *
349
Skipper patted the rough timber frame. "What do you call this thing again,
mate?"
Timballisto was helping squirrels and otters to lay the next boulder in the
cradle.
"A ballista, Skip. I built them in the wars up north many a time when I was
young. Great idea, isn't it?"
Skipper shook his head admiringly as the system of pulleys and counterweights
creaked under the winding handles, a long throwing arm fashioned from three
silver birches strained and bent against the brake lever.
"You're a cunning old wardog, Timballisto. Ha, a baby hedgehog could operate
this big catapult."
Young Dinny jumped up and down, clapping his paws. "Let oi do et. Oh, please
give thiz young mole a shot, zurr."
Timballisto shut one eye, sighting along the line the rock would take when it
was fired.
"Aye, why not? Be my guest, Young Din," he agreed.
The mole could hardly release the lever pin for chuckling. He threw himself
face down in the grass as the lever snapped back, the long arm pitched forward
as the rock shot away overhead.
"O joy, O arpiness! Whurr'd et go? Wot'd oi 'it?"
The watchers on the shore saw the tower shudder. A hole appeared as the rock
hit Kotir with tremendous force. Rubble and masonry showered into the water as
another gap was made.
A loud cheer went up from the woodlanders.
350
Tsarmina turned from the battlements to give an order to her soldiers, but
they were gone. The roof was deserted.
Below in the water were foxes and weasels, ferrets, stoats and rats. Some were
swimming, others were hanging onto doors they had hacked off with their
weapons. Wooden window shutters, tables, benches, anything that could float
was being utilized by the fleeing army.
The rooftop shook from yet another assault by the siege catapult.
Brogg stood faithfully at the head of the stairs.
"You had better come down, Milady. The whole building is starting to crumble
inside. Hurry, before the stairways collapse," he advised.
Tsarmina turned left then right. She ran to the battlements, looked over and
ran back in agitation.
"You'll see, we'll win yet. It's that traitor brother of mine, Gingivere. He
must still be alive. A single mouse couldn't have thought all this up. I
should have killed them both and made sure they were dead when I had the
chance," she ranted.
Leaping the spaces where the stairs had been demolished, the Queen and her
Captain made their way to the high chamber. It was still intact. Beneath their
paws, Kotir rumbled and crumbled in its death throes. The whole place was be-
351
ginning to disintegrate into the massive, rapidly rising lake which surrounded
it.
Brogg lifted a table and slid it out of the window. It did not have far to go
before it splashed into the water.
"Hurry, Milady. We can both make it out of here on the table!'*
Helped by Brogg, Tsarmina made an undignified scramble over the window ledge.
She lowered herself onto the upturned table. It rocked crazily in the water,
but stayed floating.
Brogg climbed up on the window ledge. "Hold it steady, Milady, closer to the
wall so that I can get on."
Tsarmina ignored the Captain. She pushed further along the wall until the
table was beyond Brogg*s reach.
"Milady, wait forme!"
"Don't be silly, Brogg." Tsarmina sounded almost condescending. "You can see
there's only room enough for your Queen on this thing. Two of us would sink
it."
The Captain scratched his head dully as if trying to understand.
"But, Your Majesty, what about me?"
Tsarmina pushed further along the wall. "Oh, you'll find something, Brogg. Get
ashore and regroup the army. I'm going to find that mouse warrior and my
brother Gingivere. Don't you worry, I'll make them pay for the loss of Kotir."
Tsarmina floated off round the sinking stronghold, propelling herself along
the walls by paw, to the other side, where there were no woodlanders.
Brogg crouched miserably on the window sill, trying to make up his mind which
surprised him more—the desertion of Tsarmina his Queen, or the arrival of a
huge ballista boulder which put an end to his bafflement forever.
It was a tranquil summer morning far to the east in Moss-flower. On the farm
the small creatures were out tending crops with Gingivere and Sandingomm. It
had become a second home for the young woodlanders who had made the trip to
this peaceful haven of refuge.
.Abbess Germaine and Columbine sat upon the riverbank together. Columbine was
busying herself with roots she was drying; it was a good area for medicinal
herbs and plants.
352
Abbess had charcoal and parchments; she was drawing something. Columbine
watched from the corner of her eye. 5he remembered Loamhedge. The Abbess used
to draw a lot o those far-off days, often translating her thoughts onto
parchments which she kept in a journeying satchel—a thing she had not done
since their arrival at Brockhall.
Now the old mouse took up a dried reed. Using it as a straight edge, she
worked busily with her charcoal sticks, nibbing here, altering there, shading
and curving the lines dntil a clear outline of a great building began to
emerge. Germaine peered over the top of her spectacles as she worked,
Columbine smiled fondly at her.
"That's a fine big house, Abbess."
"I suppose you could call it a house, child. I've had this idea in my mind
since we left Loamhedge."
"Ah yes, poor old Loamhedge. I was just thinking about k myself. Perhaps we
could have built your big house there, -had we been able to stay," Columbine
suggested.