The Command - Brian Jacques - Flying Dutchman 02

Ben pointed to the dog. “Look at Ned’s ears—he must be able to hear them!”

Karay’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Mist and fog can deaden sound. We must be very close to them. Let’s stop awhile.”

Ned passed another message to Ben. “Stay here, I’ll go ahead and see what they’re up to. Be back soon.”

Before the boy had a chance to argue, his dog had vanished into the mist. Ned moved through the trees like a dark, silent shadow. When he saw the men, he cut off left and crept along on the same course as the band, watching and listening.

Ligran Razan looked back over his shoulder. “Where’s that useless bag of blubber Cutpurse, lagging behind is he? Bring him up front here, I’ll move him!”

Two of the men dragged Cutpurse forward, stumbling and pleading. “Ow-ow-ow! Be careful of my poor ankle, will you? Ligran, leave me here to rest a bit, I’ll catch up with you later.”

A thin, cruel smile hovered about the villain’s face. “I ain’t leavin’ you anywhere, fatty. If anybody found you they’d soon have you blabberin’ where our hideout is. This’ll stop ye dawdlin’—Gurz can help you to keep in front.”

Ligran took the end of the chain on which he was holding the mastiff. Grabbing Cutpurse roughly, he hooked the chain through the fat man’s belt and secured it. “Hahaha, just try stoppin’ Gurz, an’ he’ll have ye for lunch. Hup, Gurz, hup, go on boy, off with ye!”

Cutpurse only had time to grab the chain when he was hauled forward, hopskipping, limping and staggering as the big mastiff dragged him along in its wake. “Howwoooh! No please, let me go, let me go, I’ll keep up!”

Ligran nodded. “Oh, you’ll keep up alright—Gurz’ll make sure o’ that! Come on, you lot. Let’s go, see if ye can’t make that thing move faster!”

The three men who were holding the bear’s chains jogged forward, tugging the animal along. Its collar had spikes both inside and out, and the bear made choking noises as the spikes dug into its neck. Others followed behind, striking out with whippy branches at the pitiful creature, forcing it into a fast shamble.

Ned had seen enough. He ran off, not daring to try and make mental contact with the bear, lest it unwittingly betray his presence to the men.

By midday the mists had cleared, and the sun was beating down on the mountain slopes. There was a slight dip at the woodland edge, giving way to a small valley. Behind this, the snow-capped peaks stood like massive sentinels. Ben and his friends hid in the tree fringes, watching the Razan band below in the valley. They had camped by a clear mountain lake and lit a fire. Two of the men were cooking up oatmeal and maize porridge in a cauldron over the flames. It was served out to the members of the robber band as they sat about, eating and calling out to one another. Ben could hear them clearly from where he lay hidden.

The fat Cutpurse lay exhausted near the lake shallows, his injured foot immersed in the water. He was still chained to Gurz, the big mastiff, evidently terrified of the ferocious brute, which sat growling by his side. Ligran took a ladle of the steaming mush from the cauldron. He slopped half of it on the ground and watched Gurz lap it up.

Stirring Cutpurse with a light kick, Ligran grinned. “I’d better feed him or he’ll eat that ankle o’ yours. What’s the matter, Cutpurse, got no bowl with ye? Oh, well, you’ll just have to eat yours the way it comes.”

He poured the other half of the porridge from the ladle straight onto the fat man’s jerkin. The rest of the robbers guffawed at the look on Cutpurse’s face. Ligran smiled. “Stop moanin’ and eat it up before it gets cold!”

Cutpurse was about to dip his fingers in the warm porridge when Gurz snarled at him. He pulled his hand back and lay terror-stricken. Having finished his own portion, the mastiff stood over the frightened man and began lapping up the porridge that lay in a glutinous puddle on the thief’s stomach.

Ligran was laughing uproariously at the spectacle, when one of the bear’s handlers called out, “Ligran, d’ye want me to feed this thing?”

The leader went and refilled the ladle from the cauldron. “He’s supposed to be a dancin’ bear, let’s see him dance for his supper. Come on, bear, dance! Up off your hunkers an’ dance!”

Ben turned away from the scene below. “I can’t watch any more of this. What makes those people so cruel and callous?”

Dominic turned to face him. “They’re Razan. Murder, thieving, cruelty and wickedness is a way of life to them. That’s how they’ve become so strong and feared by ordinary folk.”

Karay watched for a moment, then she, too, turned away, brushing a hand across her moist eyes. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Oh, that poor bear! If I get even the slightest chance I’m going to free him. I promise I will!”

Listening to the bear’s muted sounds of anguish, Ned looked at Ben. “I’ll free him, too, if I can, the poor old thing!”

It was noon before the Razan broke camp and moved on. Ben and his friends had to stay where they were hidden until the Razan left the valley and circled away out of sight around the mountain’s base. On reaching the lake, they stood at its edge, looking up at the mighty rocks ahead of them.

Dominic shaded his eyes against the sun. “They went off around that jagged bit up there—we’d best follow right now. If we lose sight of them, it’ll be difficult tracking over bare rock.”

It was not too hard mounting the side of the valley. By midafternoon they had reached the jagged rock that Dominic had pointed out. Loose rock scree dotted with growths of avens and horseshoe vetch seemed to spread all over the area.

Karay shrugged as she looked around. “Which way now?”

Ned took a good sniff around, then passed Ben a thought. “Follow me, I could smell that big stinky mastiff a mile off!”

The black Labrador trotted off into the larger shale, which looked like the up-jutting teeth of some dead primeval monster. The others followed him, leaping from crag to crag. Ned paused, his ears rising.

Ben heard the dog’s thought. “Aye, that’s them, up a bit and to the right!”

Night fell swiftly in the high places as late afternoon, twilight, then dusk followed one another in fast succession. The scree and shale gave way to smooth, unyielding rock. Laboriously, they trekked up a winding path, feeling carefully for safe places to set their feet. A wind sprang up, harsh and chilling.

Cupping her hands, Karay blew warmth into them and sniffed. “We’d better look for somewhere to shelter. I’ll bet that lot of villains ahead of us have made camp by now.”

The best they could find was a dry bracken bed beneath an overhanging rock. It was not at all comfortable, being open to the winds on both sides. Karay sat down dejectedly. “This’ll have to do, I suppose. There’s no caves round about.”

Dominic took out his knife and began cutting bracken. “I’ll show you what hunters do up in the high places. Gather as much bracken as you can, and pile it up against the rock here.” By the time they had gathered enough bracken, their hands were numb with cold. Dominic lit the bracken, directing them to sit facing the blaze, close together, with their cloaks around them forming a shelter. Ned squidged in between Ben and Karay as the facemaker explained: “With the rock overhanging us and our cloaks acting as a shield, the firelight glow will be hidden.”

Ben warmed his hands gratefully. “I shouldn’t think even the Razan would be out on a night like this. We’re pretty safe here. Wait while I dig some food out.”

They ate cheese and some of the ham with a loaf of bread. Dominic broke open the loaf, then toasted it over the fire and divided it into four. It tasted very good.