The Ruby of Carminel

by Roger Mortimer

  ‘Go home, children, all of you!’ The cardinal spoke with such authority that the young mice darted off. Most lived in the slums by the North Gate, and were soon worming their way through the crowd. But Cranberry’s home was in Vittles Lane, close to the docks.

  ‘The firing’s coming from the harbour!’ he squeaked excitedly. ‘I’m going to see what’s happening!’

  ‘Cranberry!’ shouted the cardinal. But the little mouse was already pelting across the square. ‘Mistress Bibo, take our shopping home. I’ll be back soon, I hope.’ Cardinal Matthias hurried after Cranberry, leaving his cook frightened to death at what might happen to him.

  Reaching the end of Vittles Lane, Cranberry saw a tall ship looming out of the smoke-clouds, its guns pointing straight at him. With a squeal of terror, he turned to run, then flung himself flat as the houses to either side trembled to a deafening broadside.

  ‘Cranberry! Come away!’ But even as Matthias reached him and dragged him to his feet, the houses burst into flame, blazing timber crashing to the ground as the upper floors collapsed. Matthias flung up his paw to protect his face, and dragged Cranberry back up the street. But another ship, sailing closely behind the first, fired its broadside, cannon-balls screamed overhead and a house further up the lane collapsed with a roar as loud as the guns, trapping the two mice between searing walls of flame.

  Aboard the Night Crow, Malatesta watched the destruction he was causing with joy in his evil heart. But now it was time for the next stage of the expedition. The boat carrying the Dirty Tricks squad was already in the water. Gweir, the hooded magician, was with them. Malatesta swung himself over the ship’s side and his stoats helped him into the boat.

  ‘Cast off! Row for the western side of the bay, then keep inshore. Once round the point, we head for a fishing village called Abbot’s Cove. We must beach the boat away from the village; we don’t want to be seen.’

  His crew rowed strongly; soon, the boat was hidden by the ships. Suddenly, one of the rowers gave a cry of alarm. A ship had rounded the headland and was swooping into the bay. It was the Avenger.

  6. Tamina to the Rescue

  Powering between two black-sailed ships, Avenger’s guns thundered in a double broadside. Cannon-balls hammered the enemy hulls and chainshot shrieked through the rigging, shattering spars and bringing masts and sails crashing to the deck. ‘Keep going!’ yelled Roamer and as Malatesta and his stoats watched in dismay, the ship tore into the harbour. A tower of black sails loomed through the smoke. But even as she fired, Avenger’s guns roared and the buccaneers cheered as the enemy ship reeled, splinters flying from her upper deck, gaping holes opening in her side.

  ‘Can’t you work some magic?’ snarled Malatesta. Gweir gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Do you imagine that my powers can be turned on and off to suit you? What I must do later tonight will exhaust me. I cannot waste energy on a ship that you seem unable to cope with!’

  With an angry curse, Malatesta gave the order to row away. The last he saw of the Avenger, she was vanishing into the smoke-filled harbour.

  Through smarting eyes, Roamer peered anxiously ahead. Avenger was sailing perilously close to a line of wrecked ships, moored to the quayside; beyond, two mice stood frozen in terror as the houses blazed around them.

  ‘Lord of Light!’ cried Roamer. ‘That’s the cardinal, and young Cranberry from the ‘King’s Head’! Bring the ship round! I’m going to help him!’

  But someone else had seen the cardinal’s peril. Grabbing a line dangling from the mainmast, Princess Tamina swung herself across the narrow strip of water and crashed against the rigging of one of the ruined ships. With a flying leap, she landed on the deck. Pausing to soak her cloak in the water, she vaulted onto the dockside.

  ‘This way!’ Tamina threw her soaking cloak over the two mice and dragged them up a side-alley between blazing houses. Sparks showered down, burning timbers crashed, but Tamina ran on until at last they were clear of the fire.

  ‘That crazy tamarin!’ yelled Roamer.

  ‘She’s got guts,’ said Lukas. ‘Look out!’

  An enemy ship was looming out of the smoke, all guns blazing. As the shots crashed home, Avenger quivered so violently that Cheesemite nearly toppled from the crow’s-nest. The enemy ship was sweeping alongside, her gun-muzzles almost touching the Avenger’s and Roamer shouted: ‘Port-guns fire!’

  Avenger’s mighty broadside crashed out. A great shudder passed through the enemy ship as guns were up-ended, spars tumbled to the deck and tongues of flame licked from her stern windows.

  ‘She’s a-blaze!’ shrieked Cheesemite. The wind was pushing the stricken ship away from the dockside. ‘Drop anchor!’ snapped Roamer. ‘Quickly, before she – ’

  A searing spurt of flame shot from the enemy ship, followed by such a thunderous roar that the sea-mice flinched from its awesome power. When its echoes had died away, there were no more enemy ships in sight. The battle was over.

  Roamer looked at the crew; their faces, like his, were black with smoke, their eyes wide and staring. Rio, the burly carpenter, was calmly bandaging the wounded, talking to them cheerfully.

  ‘Well done, lads!’ called Roamer. ‘Now, where’s the princess?’

  Tamina, her golden fur singed and blackened, was returning to the quayside with Matthias and Cranberry. As she emerged onto the shattered waterfront, she rapidly scanned the harbour. Of the ship that had blown up, only a few floating spars remained. Beyond, the bay was clear of the enemy.

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ said Matthias.

  Tamina smiled. ‘That’s all right. But Captain Roamer’s coming ashore, and I’m afraid he’s going to be cross with me.’

  Roamer was furious. But as Tamina had saved two lives, there seemed no point in making a scene. ‘That was a mad but very brave thing to do, Princess. Are you hurt, Eminence?’

  ‘Not at all, my dear Roamer,’ replied the cardinal with a smile. He and the buccaneer were old friends. ‘Cranberry and I owe our lives to this brave young tamarin.’

  ‘How did you know I was a tamarin?’

  ‘I wasn’t always a cardinal. Once, when I was a young and adventurous mouse, I sailed the Southern Ocean, and visited your islands. It’s many a long year since I last saw one of your tribe. But since you are a princess, your father must be Chief Tia-roa. I remember him well, though he was a young scamp when I knew him! Ah, here comes Cob, Cranberry’s father.’

  Cranberry, who had been gazing in awe at Tamina, looked round nervously as a stout mouse came puffing to the dockside. ‘Cranberry! You crazy kid! Always running into danger! Maybe now you’ve learned your lesson.’ Suddenly, his anger vanished, tears poured down his cheeks and he seized his little son in a hug that left Cranberry gasping for breath. ‘But praise to the Lord of Light that you’re safe – and you, too, your Eminence.’

  ‘Praise to him indeed,’ said Matthias. ‘But also to Princess Tamina.’

  Cob pulled off his cap and made a clumsy bow. Tamina gave him a dazzling smile, then suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be in charge of the wounded. ‘How many hurt?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Several,’ replied Roamer, ‘though none fatally. But plenty of nasty cuts from flying splinters – and some broken limbs.’

  ‘Bring them ashore, Captain Roamer!’ cried Cob. ‘We’ll take them to the ‘King’s Head’ and look after them there. For them and for all of you, it’s drinks on the house, aye, and supper, too!’

  ‘Thanks, Cob,’ said Roamer. ‘We’ll bring them now. The rest must help these poor mice... ’ Along the waterfront, mice were staring in dismay at their shattered homes, unable to understand what had happened, or why.

  From a small, sheltered beach, near the village of Abbot’s Cove, Malatesta was counting the black-sailed ships as they sailed out of Aramon bay. ‘Only nine! And two of those were leaking like sieves! Who is that accursed mouse who seems intent on wrecking our plans?’

  ‘His name’s Roamer,’ said a thin-faced stoat called
Scratchfur. ‘I used to sail in the empress’s fleet and I recognise the ship. Avenger, twenty-four guns. Very nice – better than most of ours. In fact – ’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ snapped Malatesta. ‘And get up the beach out of sight, all of you. Get some sleep. Scratchfur, since you’re so familiar with the Avenger, you can take first watch and wake me if you see it. We leave for Aramon at midnight.’

  7. The Red Duke

  No sooner had the injured buccaneers been ferried ashore, than several learned-looking mice, wearing spectacles and carrying black bags, appeared at the ‘King’s Head’. They were doctors, and were soon splinting limbs and bandaging busily, helped by Tamina and the cardinal.

  Suddenly, the door was flung open and a fat, pompous-looking mouse appeared. He wore a magnificent scarlet uniform, a rapier gleamed at his side and two ornate pistols were stuck in his belt. ‘Captain Roamer?’ he said, in a high-pitched squeaky voice. ‘My name is Balbi, Captain Balbi. I don’t believe we’ve met, though of course, like all Aramon, I have heard of your mighty deeds. Perhaps you have heard of me! I have the honour to command Duke Flambeau’s bodyguard of Red Lancers.’

  Tamina glanced up from her bandaging. ‘Who is Duke Flambeau?’

  Balbi stared haughtily at the bedraggled, smoke-blackened tamarin. ‘I am astonished you don’t know!’ he squeaked indignantly. ‘Duke Flambeau, whom I have the honour to serve, is young King Caladon’s uncle. He rules Carminel until the king is old enough.’

  ‘Oh. I’d like to meet him.’

  Balbi looked Tamina up and down with an insolent stare. ‘I was sent to summon Captain Roamer, not the more common members of his crew.’

  ‘This is Princess Tamina, daughter of Chief Tia-roa of Coriander and the Golden Islands,’ said Roamer quietly.

  Balbi gasped in dismay. ‘Oh! My dear Princess! Pray forgive me!’ he exclaimed, sweeping off his plumed hat in a low bow. ‘I am certain the duke would be delighted to meet you.’

  Tamina curled her lip. ‘So kind of you, Captain,’ she purred. ‘But as you have already said, I am not dressed for visiting dukes.’ Turning her back on the deeply embarrassed Balbi, Tamina returned to bandaging an injured sea-mouse.

  ‘You certainly put him in his place,’ smiled Cardinal Matthias. ‘But watch out for him, my dear, he never forgets or forgives.’

  Captain Balbi, still smarting from Tamina’s snub, led Roamer to the Great Fortress where he left him with a cold bow. The buccaneer made his way to the great hall, which was crowded with mice who had lost their homes in the raid and were hoping for the duke’s help. At the far end of the hall, dressed as usual in black velvet and a scarlet cloak, was Flambeau himself. He was seated at a desk, two Red Lancers standing behind him. On the floor was a wooden chest from which Roamer caught the glint of gold.

  ‘Our little tavern were smashed to bits, if it please your Grace,’ a skinny-looking mouse was saying.

  ‘It does not please me!’ exclaimed the duke in a loud, fruity voice. Plunging his paws into the chest, he scooped up a heap of coins. ‘Take twenty gold pieces. It’s not much. But it should help pay for the rebuilding.’

  Twenty gold pieces was a fortune! As the flabbergasted mice stammered their thanks, others shuffled forward, faces eager, hopes high. ‘That duke is the best and kindest of mice,’ said the tavern keeper as they left the Hall, clutching their unexpected bounty. It would pay for rebuilding and restocking, with plenty left over.

  ‘Nay, he’s a saint!’ exclaimed his wife. ‘What should we do without him? Of course, he’s always been generous – but twenty gold pieces!’

  ‘I wonder what little King Caladon will be like when he’s old enough to rule? Not as generous as his uncle, I dare swear!’

  So, thought Roamer, the Red Duke’s making himself more popular than the king.

  Duke Flambeau was known as the Red Duke because of his scarlet cloak, and the reddish tinge in his handsome black fur, which marked him as one of the Royal House. Catching sight of Roamer, he spoke loudly to his Guards. ‘Give these poor mice everything they need!’ The grateful crowd raised a cheer. ‘Within reason,’ Flambeau added quietly.

  The duke led Roamer into a small, comfortably furnished room. ‘You did well today, Captain! Indeed,’ he continued, pouring wine for Roamer and himself, ‘without you, Aramon might have been destroyed.’

  ‘I doubt that, your Grace,’ said Roamer. He had been wondering what Malatesta was up to. The Ermine Lord could have defeated the Avenger if he had really tried and the stoats and sea-rats could have taken the city with ease.

  A door was suddenly flung open and a sturdy young mouse, his eyes sparkling with pleasure, dashed into the room. ‘Roamer!’

  ‘Your Majesty!’ exclaimed the duke severely.

  King Caladon stopped, his happy welcome crushed. ‘Captain Roamer,’ he said in a formal voice. ‘Welcome home. Thank you for saving Aramon.’

  Old Matthias had told Roamer how harshly the Red Duke was treating his nephew. Roamer had not believed him. Now he did, but he kept his thoughts to himself and bowed to the king. ‘I am glad to see you again, your Majesty. I have something for you aboard my ship,’ he added, with a wink.

  ‘Oh, what is it? When will you bring it?’ cried Caladon, his eyes alight once more.

  ‘Your Majesty must withdraw now,’ said Duke Flambeau. ‘Captain Roamer and I have matters of importance to discuss.’

  Caladon had been so looking forward to seeing the famous buccaneer again that for a moment rebellion flared in his heart. But one glance at his uncle’s stern face showed him that argument was hopeless. ‘Goodbye, Roamer. I have to go now.’ He sighed, and trailed miserably out of the room.

  Roamer stared after him in dismay. But there was worse to come, for the duke went on: ‘Roamer, you and I have never been friends. I have always disapproved of your piracy. I want peace with the Empress Ravanola, but every ship of hers you rob brings us closer to war.’

  ‘That has never stopped you from taking your share of the plunder when we’ve captured one of her ships,’ remarked Roamer.

  This was true, but the duke ignored it. ‘I am grateful for what you have done today. But thanks to your reckless buccaneering, Empress Ravanola has now made war on Aramon. Fortunately for us, it will soon be time for the winter gales, so no more fleets can threaten us before the Spring. But when the better weather comes … ’

  Mastering his anger, Roamer said: ‘Your Grace, Empress Ravanola hungers for power. She would have attacked Carminel sooner or later. But I am convinced that Malatesta’s attack today was no more than a diversion.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ demanded the duke. ‘What do you imagine the Ermine Lord is going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. But he’s up to something.’

  Flambeau sighed. ‘This was obviously a raid to test our defences. You’re imagining things.’

  ‘Oh no I’m not. Nor am I imagining the way you’re treating King Caladon. He looks miserable. Isn’t he allowed any fun?’

  ‘Fun? Caladon must learn how to be king. There is no time for fun.’

  Roamer’s temper boiled over. ‘By the time he’s old enough for kingship, you’ll have taken all his power – yes, and crushed the spirit out of him!’

  The Red Duke’s whiskers quivered with rage. ‘How dare you! I could have you flung in the dungeons for that!’

  Roamer narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you threatening me, Flambeau?’

  The duke hesitated. Roamer was popular in Aramon. He must not anger him. At least, not yet... Flambeau smiled. ‘My apologies, Captain,’ he said smoothly. ‘I bear a heavy responsibility and this raid has upset me more than you realise. Perhaps you are right about Caladon. Perhaps he should have some – er – fun. But that’s my business, not yours. You may go.’

  Lukas was waiting for Roamer on the quayside. The big sea-mouse was full of questions; but after one look at his captain’s face, he decided to keep them to himself. Roamer was angry at Flambeau’s insults, and seething ove
r his treatment of Caladon.

  He was also puzzling about Malatesta’s raid. What on earth was that wily stoat up to?

  The eleven chimes from the Great Cathedral sounded faintly on the beach near Abbot’s Cove. Malatesta gave the sleeping Gweir a shake. ‘Wake up, wizard! Time for you to go.’

  Gweir rose stiffly to his feet and took up his staff. ‘I am ready. At midnight, I shall raise such a tempest that no mouse will wish to venture out of doors. You may carry out your task in perfect safety.’

  Once again, Malatesta wished that he could do without the wizard’s help. Gweir always made him feel uneasy, such was the power that radiated from him.

  ‘You are wishing that I was back in Ravanola’s palace?’ sneered Gweir.

  Malatesta silently cursed himself. The wizard could read his mind like an open book. Gweir laughed. ‘I care nothing for your wishes! All I care about is the glorious destiny that awaits our empress!’

  The wizard strode away into the darkness. Malatesta scowled after him. Gradually dislike of Gweir faded as he thought about the adventure that lay ahead. An hour later, at midnight, he shook his stoats awake. ‘Come on! It’s time to help ourselves to that ruby!’

  8. Princess in Peril

  ‘Some more mangoes and cream, Princess?’ asked Mother Bibo.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t!’ Princess Tamina leaned back in her seat, feeling as if her tummy would burst. She smiled round the candlelit table at the cardinal and the dozen or so orphans who had shared the banquet. Matthias, as usual, had eaten frugally but the little mice were leaning back in their seats, tummies bulging out of their rags after mountains of salmon and a double helping of mangoes and cream.

  ‘I expect you’re looking forward to the Birthday,’ said Tamina to the young mouse seated beside her. His name was Spital.