Squeezebelly had no wish to extend what might now become a painful conversation in public, nor to risk resurrecting the calls for fighting which the Stone Mole rumour had provoked. So using his desire to ask further but private questions about Mallice and Betony as his excuse, he took Harrow to his own chamber, not even allowing Wharfe, Harebell or other senior moles there for a time.
“Get Harrow some food,” he said. “Let him have a little conversation with me and then, once he has rested, I’m sure he’ll be willing to answer more questions.”
But the moment Squeezebelly had Harrow alone, he said, “Well, mole, and why have you really come?”
Harrow looked surprised and impressed.
“My mother said you’re not a mole easy to fool, and she was right.”
“Well, this business of the Stone Mole is still a rumour when all’s said and done, and you might have guessed that we knew grike numbers have been increased, so it didn’t strike me as a reason why a mole might risk his life getting here. Nor would the news you have of Mallice been that important, even if you had known we needed to hear it.”
“Well, as for Mallice, nomole will get near her unless they wish an audience with the Master of the Word himself. Not something to be recommended, I would think.”
“So why did you come?” said Squeezebelly.
“Because something has occurred which I do not know what to do about. Something I dare tell nomole, whether of Word or Stone, unless I can trust him. Before she died my mother said that you are a mole to trust.”
“If ’tis a matter of the Stone, or a matter on which lives of moles depend, then you can trust me. I shall do nothing, nor allow those I command, to do anything against the Stone or its code. What knowledge do you wish to entrust me with which is so dangerous that so few moles must know it?”
“’Tis knowledge that you will scarcely believe. I did not myself at first. But now I am convinced it’s true, more so by far than I am about the Stone Mole, and in the struggle with the Word which I think is coming – whether or not we fight with talons, and I can see you’re against that, Squeezebelly! – it is knowledge that may prove valuable for the side that possesses it. Have you ever been to Tissington?”
“In my younger days, yes. My father sent me out on such escapades, saying it was good for my education. Forgive me, but it seemed a nondescript sort of place.”
“Exactly. Not a place moles much remember, not having the advantages of site and location which systems like your own and Ashbourne have. But that very anonymity makes Tissington a good place to hide, which is why my mother sent me there.”
“A good place to hide?” said Squeezebelly sharply.
“Yes,” said Harrow, “to hide. Sometime before Longest Night a follower came to me with a story so incredible that at first I dismissed it. Very fortunately he was not only persistent but intelligent, and had told no other mole. He told me because he knew I was strongly of the Stone. He said that he had found a mole nearly dead of hunger and exhaustion, and as strange a mole as ever he had seen.”
“What was the mole’s name?”
For a long time Harrow said nothing but simply stared at Squeezebelly. Then he looked behind at the burrow entrance, and came close and spoke low.
“The mole is Henbane. Henbane of Whern.”
“Henbane?” whispered Squeezebelly aghast. “
Henbane
?”
Then he shook his head dismissively. “But she’s dead, mole. Surely Lucerne would not have taken over Whern unless she was. The Master of the Word is not going to tolerate a former Mistress wandering around moledom. No, it cannot be.”
“My reaction exactly,” said Harrow. “Nevertheless it seemed sensible to see her because if the grikes got to hear of it they’d have come crawling all over Tissington. I therefore talked to her myself, and more than once. She is... remarkable.”
“A remarkable liar I should think.”
“I think not,” said Harrow, “and I risked my life coming here
because
I think not.”
“In what way is she remarkable?”
“In many ways, but most of all because although she had been ill and malnourished when I first met her she radiated the kind of spirit that defies death.”
“She must have a reason for living, then, whoever she is. It’s what I’ve got. Mine’s a desire to see the Word leave Beechenhill alone. What’s hers?”
Squeezebelly spoke lightly. It was plain he still scarcely believed what he was hearing.
“Her reason is because she desires to see two pups taken from her at birth. I came here because I believe they may have been reared in Beechenhill.”
Harrow had fixed an unwavering stare on Squeezebelly whose face, for once, betrayed more than he wished it to.
“I see I am right, or if not right I am near the truth.”
“Something about you, Harrow, restores my faith in moles, moledom, and the new generation. You
are
right, and if this mole is Henbane then you have already met her young who are now rather older than yourself. Both were at the gathering you spoke to. But first you had better tell me the whole story, and before that you had better eat....”
At that moment Harebell appeared with some food.
“Well timed, my dear.” She seemed to want to stay, indeed she seemed
more
than interested in talking with Harrow, but Squeezebelly firmly cut that short, saying they still had things to discuss.
When she had left Harrow said, “
That
mole! Who was her mother, Squeezebelly?”
Squeezebelly shrugged noncommittally.
“There’s a mole I know, in Tissington, very old, clinging on to life, who has an aged version of
that
mole’s fur and eyes,” said Harrow. “Remarkable, isn’t it?”
Squeezebelly grinned, a lot nearer to being convinced.
“It certainly seems so. Eat your food and tell me the story of the mole who says she’s Henbane.”
Squeezebelly heard how Henbane – for soon he did not doubt that it was her – had come to leave Whern, and travelled south in long and fruitless search of her young. She had kept to high and desolate places and avoided mole. Bit by bit she had come southward until, in the place Tissington moles appropriately call Hunger Hill, she had fallen ill and weak, and barely survived.
It was there the follower had found her, and to him she had told something of her tale one night. The follower, understanding something of the significance of what she had told him, went to find Harrow in Tissington, and Harrow had succeeded in gaining the trust of Henbane, and offered her his help.
She had given much evidence of her identity, and revealed much of Whern, and of other things that only a most powerful mole could know. But when she had said that the purpose of her journey was the seemingly hopeless task of finding her lost pups, Harrow remembered rumours he had been told by his mother of the identity of two moles in Beechenhill – rumours first told by watchers tortured by the grikes.
Harrow realised that if they were true and this mole was Henbane, and what she had told him of her rejection of the Word was true as well, then her importance to moles of the Stone might be very great. He did not need to say much about Squeezebelly to Henbane, for she knew of him already through her sideem and she was prepared to trust him....
“In fact, she’s prepared to trust anymole if it means she gets a sight of the two pups she lost at birth,” said Harrow.
Squeezebelly heard all this with a growing realisation of its implications. At the simplest level they would be profound for Harebell and Wharfe; at the level of his system he might have further problems with those keen to set off and fight the grikes in the name of the Stone Mole. But there was also the risk that the knowledge that Henbane was involved in any way with Beechenhill would surely precipitate a full-scale invasion by the grikes. It was becoming increasingly plain to Squeezebelly that this was not something they could easily combat.
“I shall sleep on this, Harrow, and so shall you,” he said eventually. “Meanwhile, say nothing to anymole, least of all Harebell. It is not my nature to hide things from others in the system, but nor is it wise to reveal everything until they have been thought about. Timing is what running a system’s all about. But Henbane, Mistress of the Word! Remarkable indeed! Quite remarkable.”
It took no more than a few hours for Squeezebelly to decide that Henbane ought to be brought to Beechenhill. But he felt he owed his first loyalty to Harebell and Wharfe and they must be asked their opinion.
“You shall tell them yourself, Harrow, just as you told me. Let me summon them....”
When he came back, and while waiting for Wharfe and Harebell to come, he said, “The Stone speaks to us in this, but I know not how. These are strange times, times for moles to watch to their beliefs and stay by them, time to trust the Stone. But this Stone Mole rumour... is it really true, do you think?”
“I’m not sure. I like no rumour that comes first from grikes. As you say, these are times when a mole must be cautious, but there’s something about it that rings true.”
Harebell appeared and she did not look as happy to see Harrow now as she had before; she looked as if she had been awake all night.
“My dear, this mole has been telling me of something which you should be the first to know. But it affects Wharfe as well.”
“Wharfe is not here.”
“Well, he can’t be far.”
Harebell looked alarmed and distressed and said, “I’m sorry, Squeezebelly, but he’s left Beechenhill. He’s gone to try to find Betony... It was last night after Harrow spoke to us. I tried to stop him, but he’s been half mad since she disappeared and when this mole...” She turned to Harrow and said, “I wish you hadn’t told us about Mallice as you did.”
“You should have told me,” Squeezebelly said.
“I told him to think about it first. It’s not like him to go rushing off. I mean he’s always been the most sensible one of us, hasn’t he? Anyway he said he would think about it but then he talked to Bramble who said he shouldn’t go until he knew more, but if he talked to you he thought you’d stop him.”
“Of course I’d stop him!” roared Squeezebelly. “Just how does he imagine he’s going to find Betony?”
“I’ve no idea,” flared Harebell, “and it’s all your fault, Harrow, for telling us of Mallice. Anyway, despite everything Bramble isn’t completely useless and he’s gone with some others to try and stop him, though whether he’ll succeed I rather doubt. You know how fast Wharfe can move, and even if Bramble catches him he’ll not persuade him to come back.”
“Well, the cold might help, and the ice, and common sense. As you say he’s never done anything like this before.”
Squeezebelly glowered while Harrow, caught in the middle, remained diplomatically silent. It was Harebell, trying to calm things down, who broke the silence: “Well, here I am whatever the circumstances. What did you want me for?”
Squeezebelly, feeling suddenly that things were out of his control, sighed and said, “This mole did not merely come to tell us of a Stone Mole rumour, or to unwittingly cause Wharfe to risk his life, but also to tell us something which you should know, Harebell. I shall say no more. But, please, please, my dear, will you first agree to stance quietly where you are now and
discuss
what he says like the sensible mole you are before you go rushing off like your brother?”
“I’ll try,” said Harebell.
“You do that, try really hard,” said Squeezebelly heavily. He turned to Harrow, “Now, tell her what you told me.”
Harrow repeated to Harebell what he had already told Squeezebelly, telling the tale slowly and in detail. Apart from a sharp intake of breath, and a stancing down into utter concentration, Harebell betrayed no emotion during Harrow’s account, or later when he dealt with the many questions she asked about Henbane’s health, condition and state of mind. Even when all was done she did not move, but continued to stare at Harrow as if still taking in what he had said.
“Well then,” said Squeezebelly, “what are we to do?”
“I shall go to her,” said Harebell simply, “and Squeezebelly, you shall try to dissuade me but I’m afraid you will not succeed. I shall go to her because she is my mother and she may need me. She must feel very much alone. Harrow here will guide me to her, and we shall bring her back together by another route, one of the more northerly ones. That way fewer moles will know she’s come. They should not know who she is. I do not like a lie, but they should not.”
Squeezebelly sighed.
“You will not go to her,” he said.
“I shall.”
“I cannot let you, my dear. First Betony, next Wharfe, now you. I’m sorry, my dear. No.”
“Will you forcibly stop me? Is
this
how a mole of the Stone treats another?” She stared at him and then added, “Squeezebelly, I
must
go, and you know why.” She smiled and went close to him. “I
must
,” she said again. “Do you want to think about it?”
Great Squeezebelly shook his head and blinked back tears.
“No, my dear, no I won’t think about it because it’s you who must decide. I just cannot bear to think of losing you...
Harrow quietly left the burrow, and never knew quite what was said. It was plain that these two loved each other dearly, and that Squeezebelly would take Harebell’s departure at such a risky time very hard. But eventually he was called back in to them and he saw that she was indeed to go.
“Are you willing?” she asked Harrow. Harrow nodded.
“And is Henbane capable of the journey back here if she wants to come?”
Harrow said he thought she probably was.
“Perhaps some others could go with you.”
“That would be unwise,” said Harebell cryptically, but in the kind of voice Squeezebelly knew better than to argue with, “and anyway, the fewer moles the better.”
“I don’t like it, any of it, one bit,” said Squeezebelly finally.
“You always said that when things began to happen they would do so all at once. Well, now they have.”
“But I don’t
like
it. The system needs to be united at a time like this, but it is not. The Stone Mole, Henbane, Wharfe disappeared, now you... I am concerned.”