An angry hiss of exhalation greeted the slight pause. In that moment, he knew he had them. Not that there had been any doubt. The crowd were ravenous for what he had to offer. They would snatch it from his beak, like a hungry chick, and swallow it whole. It was the same everywhere that he went, across the length and breadth of Birddom.
He began again, ‘Many deemed wise in Birddom think that I am dead. But, as you see...’
This time his speech was halted by a roar of approval, and the branches of the rookery shook with the noise of cheering birds. Traska waited until they had quietened before continuing, ‘I am very much alive. As we are very much alive – a nation, a brethren who will rise again. But this time to glory. And ultimate victory!’
Chapter Two
Tomar sat on his perch in the ring of oaks and looked about him, sensing the mood of the Council. Engar had used his time well in the preceding weeks, and had obviously built up strong support amongst the younger members. It was as Tomar had predicted. The Council of the Owls was split: five owls for Engar, and five against.
Tradition decreed that the appointment of a new member needed a unanimous vote. But Engar’s supporters spoke out vociferously about the need to change, to modernise the Council. They derided that tradition, and said that it had no place today. That the will of the majority should prevail. This was the message being reinforced by every speaker on Engar’s side, and Tomar had no doubt that it originated from the barn owl himself. Engar had engineered the confrontation in order to force Tomar into a corner. As Great Owl, his was now the casting vote, if he chose to capitulate to this new idea of Council democracy. The aged leader of Birddom shook his head sorrowfully, then called for silence.
‘My friends,’ he said. ‘Times have indeed changed. But then, when did they not? And, in that spirit, I too call for a change. A change in our procedures that I think will not be unwelcome to some here, to whom tradition means little. For tradition has always held that an electee to the Council has no voice until he or she is chosen. I ask you to agree to alter that edict here and now. I want to hear Engar speak to us. I want to know why he believes we should choose him to become a member of the Council of the Owls.’
No one demurred, and a hush descended over the clearing as they waited for Engar to speak. The barn owl took his time. He knew that he had to choose his words carefully. Tomar’s change of tactic had surprised him. And so he sat still in the centre of the circle and composed himself. Then, aware that all around him feathers were being ruffled with expectancy and impatience, he began.
‘I thank the Great Owl for giving me this unique opportunity to speak to the Council. I deem it a great honour that you should want to hear my words.’
His eyes at this point traversed the treetops, receiving several approving nods from his supporters. He could not, however, meet Tomar’s eye, and instead looked down at his claws, cleared his throat and continued.
‘I have nothing but admiration for the work of the Council in the past. Its mighty deeds are legendary throughout Birddom, and all of its members, past and present, are duly revered. Indeed, without this Council, there would be no Birddom, only the utter blackness conceived by Slyekin. Without the Council, the world would have been lost to us. But we prevailed. We defeated the enemy and ensured a future for the land. And it is to that future that I look today. Not to the past. A future where all birds are equal, and power is devolved to all. Do not think that I seek to undermine the Council. I do not. I want only to make it more democratic, less aloof from the common bird. I have so many ideas. So many radical proposals that I believe will serve Birddom well, and give it a brighter future. If I am chosen. If I am given the chance to serve.’
The challenge to Tomar was unmistakable. A gauntlet had been thrown down. And all eyes looked towards the Great Owl as he considered his reply.
‘I seem to be in a unique position in this new, would-be democracy of ours. I now seem to have a power allowed to none of my predecessors for I see that the power of decision-making for the Council is with me alone. And, while I decide, I ask you all to reflect for a moment whether this outcome is what you truly desire. Whether this change will benefit Birddom, or weaken it.’
The old owl paused. He preened his wing-feathers for a few seconds before looking up, and fixing Engar with his calm gaze.
‘Engar has spoken with passion and enthusiasm for his new way. And maybe he is right. Maybe the Council is outdated and irrelevant, although it has served Birddom well for generations. Maybe its absolute authority for creating the laws of the land is undemocratic, although its decisions in the past have been for the good of every bird. What I do know is that Birddom is at peace and that, faced with no common enemy to unite us, we are in danger of confrontation and conflict amongst ourselves. This will damage the Council and Birddom. So I propose that Engar join as a member of the Council of the Owls. I cast my vote on his behalf.’
The spring-tight tension that had built in the clearing evaporated in an instant, and relief showed in many faces around the ring. Engar’s own face wore a look of enormous satisfaction. He took off from his lowly position in the centre of the ring, and took his place on the vacant oak, ready to address the Council. But, as he opened his beak to speak, Tomar forestalled him.
‘Welcome, Engar,’ said the Great Owl. ‘Welcome to the Council of the Owls. May you serve Birddom well.’
‘That weak, decrepit old fool. You should have seen how he caved in when faced with the inevitable. They wanted me. They all wanted me!’
Engar strutted before his guest, eager for further approbation.
‘Don’t underestimate Tomar,’ came the dry reply. ‘That owl has more about him than you’ll ever understand, may he rot. And I don’t like this meek acceptance. I don’t like it at all. You can be sure that Tomar’s got something under his wing.’
‘Rubbish!’ exclaimed Engar. ‘He’s past it, that’s all. He’s finished. Washed up. I’m the power on the Council now. It won’t be long before they make me Great Owl.’
‘So far as I understand it, you’ve barely been allowed to open your beak yet, my impatient friend. So let’s take it one step at a time, shall we? We must stick to our plan. I don’t want you to do anything to alienate Tomar for now. Play your part. Suggest changes, but not too many. Be circumspect, Engar. Your day will come.’
Owl and magpie looked at each other, as if sealing some pact. The body of a greenfinch lay between them, and they took turns in feeding.
‘Engar, where are you? Can I come and see you?’ The high-pitched, sweet voice of the young robin carried clearly on the air.
Traska looked up regretfully from his bloody meal. ‘Merion mustn’t see me here. I ought to hide. Mind me well, Engar, and do as I say. You will be the Great Owl, but only when I decide that the time is right. Now answer that young robin. I am sure that he is eager to hear your news.’
And, with that, the ancient magpie hopped away into the undergrowth, calling softly as he disappeared, ‘Toss that finch in here. I might as well eat while I listen. Oh, what a delicious irony, that Kirrick’s offspring is now on the side of darkness!’
Merion flew into view scant seconds after Traska had hidden himself. Engar spotted the robin, and hooted a greeting.
‘Ah, there you are. Welcome, Merion, my young friend. Come down. Come down and join me.’
The robin flitted down through the tree until he reached a branch facing the barn owl. ‘Engar,’ he cheeped expectantly. ‘What news from the Council?’
‘Oh, everything went much as I expected,’ replied Engar.
Merion clapped his wings in delight. ‘So they voted for you? You’re a member of the Council of the Owls now?’
‘Did you ever doubt it?’ Engar asked pointedly.
The robin stammered an immediate apology. ‘I’m sorry, Engar. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I always knew that you wo
uld win a place on the Council. Birddom needs your new way of thinking. You will be a great success.’
Engar smiled, as if the flattery was his due, and puffed out his chest feathers, savouring the moment. ‘My personal success means nothing to me. I am only glad that I will be able to serve Birddom. I really believe that I can make a difference. The Council was tired, and going nowhere. But now that I have won a majority we can make some real changes. Oh, I know that it will take time. But I’m in no hurry. I respect the traditions of the Council, and I admire the old guard for what they have done in the past, Tomar especially.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Merion said. ‘For that old owl means a lot to me, even though I get exasperated by his old-fashioned values.’
‘He means a lot to all of us,’ Engar lied, and Traska, well hidden, fought to suppress a chuckle at the barn owl’s blatant mendacity.
‘Mother, why are you so troubled?’
‘I am afraid, Olivia my dear. I had thought that we had put the darkness behind us when we defeated the magpies. But evil arose once more when Traska returned and kidnapped Merion and yourself. Then Traska was vanquished, and the light returned to Birddom. But now I fear that a shadow is again among us. I can’t see where the threat is coming from, although I agree with Tomar. I do not trust that owl, Engar. Don’t ask me to explain why. I’m not sure that I could. But he seems false, albeit that he is a fine specimen of a bird.’
‘A fair face hiding a foul heart?’ Olivia replied.
Portia nodded. ‘Yes, he may have the body of an owl. But I fear that he has the heart of a magpie!’
‘I know, Mother. I’ve tried to explain that to Merion, but he simply won’t listen. He is besotted with Engar’s ideas. His visions about the new Birddom. I am so frightened that we may have lost him for good.’ Olivia’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of a world without her brother’s strength and friendship.
‘Now don’t distress yourself so,’ Portia said, consolingly. ‘I know my son. He is a good robin, like his father. He is eager to learn. He wants to change the world. That is understandable. But above all he knows the difference between wrong and right. Have faith in your brother, Olivia. He will never betray us. In the end he will realise the truth about Engar. But he won’t accept it from us. So, for now, we must keep our own counsel, and trust that Kirrick’s blood will win through. Then you will get your brother back. And I will have my son.’
Tomar brooded for several days following the Council of the Owls’ portentous meeting. He had returned immediately to Tanglewood, and had scarcely strayed more than a few wing-flaps from his nest since then. The food-store provided by his young helpers had hardly been touched. Tomar was thinking. And his thoughts were sombre. He had never felt so alone. Nor so isolated. His physical infirmity was extremely irksome to him. He was a prisoner of his own body. How he longed to see friendly faces. To seek wise counsel from those that he could trust. But Storne, Darreal and Kraken, his triumvirate of staunch allies in the Great Battle, were too far away. If only he could talk to them. Explain his fears about Engar. Seek their advice.
For Tomar was extremely worried. Not for himself. But for the very future of Birddom. A Birddom led by what? A council? A single owl? Every bird? And facing what? War with the insects? That prospect was too terrible to imagine. But it could be the consequence of any relaxation of the strictures that he, Tomar, had imposed upon his flock. The insects would inevitably see it as a betrayal. What else would they do? Accept being eaten? No. The old owl knew all too well that they would react angrily to being made a food-source once again. And the enormity of their numbers churned the fear in Tomar’s stomach. Nothing could withstand the backlash of their rage. The depredations of the corvidae would seem like pin-pricks in comparison. Birddom would be utterly obliterated.
Tomar let his mind drift back to those times of hope – oh, how long ago they now seemed – when the sun was blotted out by the hordes of small birds fleeing danger in Wingland, and bringing the promise of a continuing future for Birddom. Once the initial joy had passed, Tomar had faced the huge task of reinforcing his pact with the insects amongst the incomers. It was not the welcome that they had expected, and certainly not the idyll that they had been promised by Portia, when she had attempted, without success, to lure them away from their homeland. Only the enormity of the danger from which they had fled prevented any incomer from turning tail and flying back whence they came.
To some it meant a major change of lifestyle, adapting to a totally new diet. For specialised feeders, such as the flycatchers and the wagtails, it was a hard time, and they would not have survived without the help and encouragement of other, more omnivorous species, who showed and shared their food-sources with their beleaguered cousins. During this time of transition, it was Tomar’s will alone that kept the pact from breaking. The unique regard in which he was held by the whole of Birddom, and the fact that huge and powerful birds, such as eagles and falcons, were also deferring to the Council’s pronouncements, meant that it was grudgingly accepted by the foreigners that Tomar’s word was law.
Of course, in the intervening years, that law had been broken. But these were invariably isolated cases, which, when discovered, were dealt with amongst the incomers themselves, without recourse to the judgement and mercy of the Council of the Owls. And this internal rule of law proved harsh but effective. Summary execution was the norm for any bird found transgressing for the sake of live food in its belly. Tomar regretted the severity of the punishment meted out, but knew better than to interfere. His pact was being upheld, and Birddom was a safer place because of it.
Chapter Three
A mild Spring gave way to a sweltering June, which caused a proliferation of insect life never before witnessed in Birddom. Mayflies were in abundance, yellow jackets buzzed everywhere, hornets droned, and house flies invaded every human home in numbers that could not be tolerated.
Man reacted with savagery to this escalation. Insects had been a worrying nuisance, dealt with in limited fashion. Now they were the enemy, and Man had a huge arsenal at his fingertips. Indeed, in a war in which he was outnumbered by billions, Man was fortunate that he was the only active aggressor. For, as Tomar had envisaged in his own worst nightmares, nothing could have withstood a co-ordinated attack by such a multitude as could have been mustered by even a single species of insect. But, as it was, Man waged war on a one-to-one basis, and each individual insect was defenceless against his range of weaponry. Nets proliferated, until no part of Birddom, within a two mile radius of any human conurbation, was unprotected. They totally enclosed towns and villages, hamlets and farmland, but the fine mesh required to keep the insect nation at bay meant that Man began to live in a permanent twilight. That same mesh had detrimental consequences as well. For it prevented the natural interaction between insect and crops. Natural pollination was impossible, and the expense incurred in artificially reproducing this activity meant that food prices soared.
The netting had serious consequences for birds across the length and breadth of Birddom as well. Apart from the danger of becoming entangled in the fine mesh, birds everywhere were denied yet another food source, as seed, grain and fruit were protected and thus prohibited. Man was, however, not content merely to stay inside his nets. Spraying became a commonplace activity, with a vast fleet of small aircraft hurriedly constructed for the purpose. From dawn until dusk, insecticide rained down upon the land, in such concentrations that thousands of birds were inadvertently made victims. Man did not desire this, but neither did he care overmuch. His was a single-minded war, and if there were unplanned casualties, so be it.
Then Man unleashed another terror into Birddom. For his paranoia was such that he chose to blame his domesticated animals, pets and livestock, for the rise in the number of insects infesting his world. The livestock, vital as a food source, were dipped and treated. Pets were simply thrown out to fend for themselves in the wild.
So now Birddom faced the additional threat of thousands of canine and feline predators, made desperate by the abrupt termination of their erstwhile cosy existence, roaming the land, intent on survival.
Birddom pulled together in the face of these awesome threats. Food was rationed and shared scrupulously among the population. Wild berries became a luxury, taken only sparingly, and many birds were forced to supplement their diet with grasses and weeds. The population shifted, too. Under attack mainly in open areas, and especially around stretches of water, where spraying was at its most intense, birds were forced to uproot, and relocate to strange habitats. In a matter of weeks, woodlands overflowed with exotic species, such as reed warblers, grey and yellow wagtails, and even kingfishers. Again and again it was only the strength of community that saved individuals and whole species from extermination. Natural evolution was replaced by the more immediate adage, “Adapt or die!” The woodlands offered the best protection from overhead spraying, and the best hiding places from the threat of predators. In these dark days, not only birds of a feather flocked together!
Kopa was a chaffinch of unusual intelligence. His species were generally viewed as chatterers. They were gregarious, certainly, and often gathered in large flocks for a good gossip. But Kopa was a bit of a loner and a thinker, too. An incomer from Wingland, he had quickly adapted to his new home, and had made great efforts to learn the language of Birddom, not only his own, but the dialectic variations peculiar to the brambling and his near-cousin, the siskin. For Kopa had travelled much since coming to Birddom. And had learnt much, too. Things that troubled him, and made him fearful.
It was from Kopa that Tomar first heard of the rumours about the corvids. Initially, the Great Owl dismissed them from his mind. He had other, more pressing business. Man was the enemy now. The corvids were a thing of the past. The spectre of black and white paled into insignificance compared to Man’s all-encompassing fury. But there was a tiny place in Tomar’s heart which quailed a little at the news that the magpies might return to challenge for supremacy in Birddom.
Seven for a Secret Page 2