The Secret of Zanzibar, page 7
Then her brother, who was walking a few paces in front, stopped unexpectedly.
‘What is it?’ said Alice.
‘Dunno,’ said Alex. ‘There’s something up ahead but I can’t quite make it out.’
Alice looked in the direction he was pointing, but all she saw was a big dark shape with a small dark shape moving around it.
‘Let’s get off the road and see if we can move in closer without being seen.’
They jogged down the slope to the river and walked along the water’s edge for a few minutes until Alex said, ‘This should be far enough.’
Back up the slope they climbed and lay on their bellies, peering over the crest of the hill.
‘It’s a farmer loading a cart,’ said Alex as they watched a mouse with sooty black fur and a broad-brimmed straw hat bending and lifting.
‘I can see that. But what’s that he’s loading into his cart?’ Alice wanted to know.
Alex squinted. ‘Cabbages?’ he guessed. Then, as the smell of rotting vegetables hit their nostrils, borne on a waft of breeze, he screwed up his nose. ‘Yuck,’ he said, waving a hand in front of his face. ‘Bit past their use-by date.’
Alice, pinching her nose closed, said, ‘Why would he be loading rotten cabbages into his cart?’
Alex rolled his eyes. ‘To take them somewhere, of course.’
He said it like it was obvious, but Alice couldn’t imagine who’d want a cartload of rotten cabbages. Before she had thought of a smart retort, however, the farmer called out, ‘Scooter? Where are you?’
A faint cry came back. ‘Coming, Dad.’
As a young mud-spattered mouse scampered across the field the farmer said, ‘If we don’t get these cabbages loaded up quick smart we’ll never get ’em delivered to Cornoliana by sundown.’
‘But, Dad,’ said the boy, picking up a cabbage and regarding it with an expression of disgust, ‘why are we taking these to Cornoliana? They’re rotten!’
‘Yes, they are,’ said the farmer, ‘but I’ve been told to deliver them to the orphanage.’
‘The orphanage?’ Scooter sounded puzzled. ‘But why?’
‘I presume so they can make cabbage soup for the orphans,’ the farmer replied in a gruff voice. ‘Keep going, son. We’ve got to get ’em all loaded.’
Scooter worked in silence for a few minutes, lifting cabbages and placing them on the broad flat tray of the cart, before saying, ‘Dad, are the orphans Gerandan?’
The farmer sighed but didn’t pause in his work. ‘Yes, son.’
‘Because Sourians wouldn’t eat rotten cabbages, would they, Dad?’
‘No, Scoot, I don’t suppose they would.’
‘But Dad, it’s not fair, is it?’ Scooter’s voice was rising in indignation. ‘Why should Gerandan kids have to eat the rotten cabbages while Sourians eat the fresh ones?’
‘Shhh. Quiet, son.’ The farmer cast an anxious glance over his shoulder. ‘Don’t let anyone hear you talking like that.’
Before Alice could stop him Alex had leapt to his feet. ‘I heard you,’ he called.
‘Alex!’ she squeaked, aghast. ‘What are you doing?’
Alex looked down at his sister, still lying on the slope. ‘Come on, sis. This is our chance.’
‘Don’t!’ Alice cried, reaching for her brother’s tail to stop him, but he swished it away and crossed the road to where the farmer and his son stood staring open-mouthed.
‘He didn’t mean anything by it,’ the farmer said, moving to stand in front of his son protectively. ‘He’s young. He doesn’t understand what he’s saying.’
‘I understand what he’s saying perfectly well,’ Alex said boldly. ‘And I agree with him.’
The farmer regarded him suspiciously. ‘Who are you and what do you want with us?’
‘I am Zanzibar’s nephew,’ Alex declared proudly, standing up straight and thrusting his chest out. ‘And I want your help.’
‘Zanzibar’s nephew?’ the farmer breathed. He narrowed his eyes as he considered Alex’s white fur. ‘You don’t look like him,’ he said. ‘I’ve always been told that Zanzibar has golden fur.’
‘I take after my dad,’ Alex explained. ‘But my sister looks like our mum, Emmeline – she’s Zanzibar’s sister.’ He turned and called over his shoulder, ‘Sis, come here!’
Alice couldn’t very well stay hidden now. Reluctantly, she stood up, brushed the grass from her fur, and crossed the road. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I know I don’t look like Zanzibar either, but our brother Alistair does – he has ginger fur.’
‘Is that right?’ said the farmer, but he didn’t sound convinced. ‘What I don’t get is what Zanzibar’s relatives are doing roaming the countryside spying on innocent Gerandans.’
‘We weren’t spying!’ Alex protested. ‘I mean, we are spies, but we’re not spying on Gerandans, we’re spying for Gerandans.’
‘You’re spies?’ Scooter broke in. ‘That’s cool!’
Alex was trying to look modest but not really succeeding.
‘What’s this got to do with us?’ said the farmer. ‘We don’t want any trouble. We’re just loading our cabbages, like we were told.’
‘But it’s not right, is it?’ Scooter piped up. ‘It’s not right that Gerandans have to eat rotten cabbages.’
‘No,’ said Alex. ‘It’s not right. And we have to do something about it.’
Alice listened in growing admiration as her brother explained their presence in Gerander. She had never heard him sound so grown-up and serious. The farmer seemed impressed too.
‘And Zanzibar is really coming home to lead the protest himself?’ said the farmer. He had taken off his hat and was rubbing the top of his head.
‘Yes,’ Alice chimed in. ‘The Friday after next. That’s when Queen Eugenia arrives.’
‘We’ll be there.’
‘Please,’ said Alice, ‘tell your friends and family.’
The farmer raised his eyebrows. ‘And what if one of ’em dobs me in to the Queen’s Guards? I’ll come to the protest, but I’m not tellin’ anyone about it beforehand.’
This was their biggest obstacle, Alice knew: fear. But the awful thing, she realised, was that Gerandans didn’t just live in fear of the Queen’s Guards who occupied their country: they feared each other. And as long as Gerandans feared each other, they would never be free. But how could she make him see that? How could she convince him that trusting his fellow Gerandans was the only way – even if it meant risking his life?
‘A country isn’t just a piece of land,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s not just the river and the trees and the fields. It’s the people, too, and the way we live together, the kind of community we make. If we can’t unite to face our enemy, then there’s no such thing as Gerander and no such thing as Gerandans. And that’s exactly what the Sourians want. Divide and conquer. They have used fear to drive us apart. If we ever want to reclaim our country, we have to come together and stand up to the Sourians. We have to let our common purpose as Gerandans define us.’ Alice felt a bit dizzy after she’d said all this. Had she said it right? Would the farmer understand what she meant?
Alex looked at his sister. ‘Well put, sis.’
The farmer had a strange expression on his face as he put a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Let our common purpose as Gerandans define us,’ he repeated. He sounded as dazed as Alice felt. ‘I’ll talk to some people and see what I can do,’ he said. ‘No more rotten cabbages, eh, Scoot?’
‘There’s one more thing …’ said Alex, as the farmer turned back to his cart.
‘Why are your good ideas always so bad?’ Alice groaned as she climbed onto the cart with the rotten cabbages.
‘Hey, sis,’ said Alex, ignoring her complaint, ‘do this.’ He was peeling leaves off a cabbage and plastering them to his body.
Alice made a gagging sound. ‘Why would I want to cover myself in rotten cabbage leaves?’ she demanded.
‘It’s a disguise. This way anyone looking into the cart won’t see our fur. Or would you rather be caught by the Queen’s Guards?’ Alex suggested.
Trying not to breathe through her nose, Alice peeled a leaf from a cabbage. ‘This is disgusting,’ she said as she wrapped the slimy green leaf around her leg.
‘Ha!’ said Alex. ‘You should see yourself. You look like Snaaake Mooouse.’ He raised his arms over his head and made a goofy monster face.
Her brother sounded much braver now that they were a long way from the swamp, Alice noted sourly.
He waved a hand in front of his face. ‘And you smell like him too.’
When they were completely covered in green leaves, they lay at the bottom of the cart and let the farmer and his son pile the rotten vegetables on top of them. Then the cart began to move and Alice and Alex were jostled along with the reeking cabbages. Every bump in the road bounced a cabbage into Alice’s head or stomach. While spending the night in a stinking, slithering swamp had been probably the worst experience of her life, this would have to come a close second, she decided. If it wasn’t the scariest situation she’d ever been in, it was definitely one of the most revolting.
Yet despite the discomfort and the putrid smell, she must have drifted off, because she woke suddenly to find that the cart had stopped.
‘Cabbages,’ she heard the farmer say. ‘I’ve been directed to deliver them to the orphanage.’
A voice that obviously belonged to a Queen’s Guard replied, ‘Thank goodness you’re not taking them to the mess hall.’
There was the sound of laughter, then a second voice said, ‘That’s something I’ll never understand about Gerandans.’ He seemed oblivious to the fact that the farmer and his son were standing right in front of him. ‘I mean, why would you eat rotten cabbages?’
‘Perhaps they can’t tell the difference,’ said the first voice, and they both laughed harder than ever.
Finally one of the guards managed to choke out, ‘You may pass,’ between gales of laughter.
The cart began to move, and from the bumping and jolting Alice could tell that they were being wheeled across cobblestones. That meant they’d done it, she realised; they were in Cornoliana!
‘Let’s hope when they deliver the cabbages we can slip off without anyone from the orphanage seeing us,’ Alice whispered.
‘Slip off? No way. We want them to see us,’ Alex said.
‘What?!’
‘Alice,’ said her brother patiently, ‘we’re meant to be spreading the word about the protest, aren’t we? I mean, we want it to be a big protest, not a secret protest, right?’
‘I guess,’ said Alice.
Alex snorted. ‘You guess,’ he repeated. ‘Look, sis, if the protest is going to work, we have to tell everyone we meet about it – every Gerandan, that is,’ he amended. ‘The surest way to spread the word is, well, to spread the word.’
‘Even to the orphans?’
‘Especially to them. Remember what Slippers said? That’s why we’re here: kids have the right to stand up for what they believe in. We’re doing it, aren’t we?’
Alice had to admit that what Alex said made sense. She’d always known that her brother didn’t have an ounce of shyness in him, that he could talk to anybody. Now she had an inkling of why Slippers Pink and Solomon Honker had chosen him for this mission. He might fancy himself a spy, but really he was the opposite: far from being mysterious and secretive, he was straightforward and open. But what about her? Why was she on the mission? The thought of approaching strangers and asking them to risk their lives at an illegal protest made her quail. What qualities did she have that were useful here?
As she was pondering this question Alex said, ‘Do you think I should let everyone know I’m their future king?’
That was why she was here, Alice realised. To keep the future king in line.
They had been bouncing along the cobblestones for about ten minutes when the cart slowed and turned.
‘Is this the orphanage, Dad?’ Scooter asked loudly. He was probably doing it for their benefit, Alice suspected.
‘Yes,’ said the farmer, equally loudly. ‘We have arrived at the orphanage. We’ll tip out the cabbages in the courtyard. Maybe some of them will roll away.’
It occurred to Alice that if she and Alex were spotted among the cabbages, the farmer might be in big trouble. What if the head of the orphanage was Sourian and guessed that the farmer was smuggling Gerandan spies in the cabbages? But before she could point this out to Alex, the cart was tipped up and they were rolling across the rough wooden boards. Splat! As the stench of squashed rotten cabbages filled the air, Alice tried to feel grateful that they had landed on the slimy vegetables instead of the hard stone of the courtyard.
Alice peered out from beneath a particularly pungent cabbage to find that she and Alex and the vegetables were surrounded by a dozen or so mice, ranging in height from tiny to tall. Their expressions varied from surprise to curiosity to disgust.
The disgust was clearest on the face of the tallest mouse, who was glaring at the farmer. ‘What do you mean by bringing me these rotten cabbages?’ she asked in an icy voice.
Alice saw Scooter straighten as if about to respond, but his father laid a warning hand on his shoulder and the young mouse bowed his head and stayed silent.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ said the farmer. ‘I’m only doing it under orders. Believe me, it wasn’t my idea. These poor little mites deserve better than that.’
At that moment one of the poor little mites said, ‘Matron, this cabbage has whiskers,’ and another poor little mite added, ‘And this one’s got a tail.’
‘Don’t be silly, Frank,’ chided the matron. ‘Cabbages don’t have whiskers – or do they? Whoever is in those cabbages,’ she said sternly, ‘stand up right now.’
Alice and Alex got to their feet. Alice waited for her to call for the Queen’s Guards – or at least to shriek in horror; she could only imagine how monstrous they must look, dripping with slimy cabbage leaves. Instead, she was astonished to hear the matron say, ‘Ah, I’ve been expecting you two.’
9
Granville
‘That’s it then.’ Slippers was sitting on a rock beside the road, her shoulders slumped.
In the time he had known her Alistair had seen her in many moods: furious and determined and cautious and brave. But he had never seen her look as she did now: defeated.
‘All these years,’ Slippers continued, her voice flat. ‘All the risks, all the losses – and we’re no better off than we were. Zanzibar is still a prisoner. Gerander is still not free.’
‘Come on, Slips,’ said Feast Thompson uneasily. ‘Don’t give up on me now.’
Slippers lifted her shoulders and let them drop. ‘But without Zanzibar to lead us …’
‘We didn’t need to know Zanzibar to join FIG,’ Alistair pointed out. ‘We joined because we thought the Sourian occupation of Gerander was wrong.’
‘And there’s nothing to stop us carrying out our mission,’ said Tibby Rose. ‘We can still try to make the Sourians see the truth about Gerander, and we can still organise a protest and stop the Queen from taking the throne in Cornoliana.’
Slippers had begun to nod while Tibby was talking. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re right. We have to proceed with our mission. But you three will have to go on without me. I have to get back to Shetlock. I need to assess what damage has been done to our networks there, see if any other FIG members have been captured or hurt.’
‘Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Beezer,’ said Alistair. ‘They were with Zanzibar. You don’t think they were captured too?’ He felt a pain in his chest at the thought of his aunt and uncle in trouble.
‘I’ll find out,’ Slippers promised. ‘And maybe …’
‘Maybe organise a rescue?’ Feast suggested.
‘You know me too well, Feast.’
Alistair was glad to see the determined glint in Slippers’ eyes.
‘Slips, you can’t do it on your own,’ Feast argued. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Slippers rubbed the back of her neck, her expression worried. ‘But what about Alistair and Tibby Rose? No, Feast. We can’t leave them unprotected.’
Alistair felt a moment’s qualm. Feast always said that Slippers Pink had a sixth sense for danger, that when she rubbed the back of her neck it usually meant something wasn’t right. Well, it was true: everything was wrong. But at least he could assure her that he and Tibby would be safe.
‘Honestly, Slippers, we’ll be fine,’ Alistair said. ‘Tibby’s house is just up the road, and you’ve always said that being with Grandpa Nelson and Great-Aunt Harriet is the safest place for us.’
‘I don’t know.’ Slippers bit her lip, then glanced at Feast Thompson. ‘What do you think, Feast?’
‘I think it’s a good solution.’
Slippers narrowed her eyes and tapped a finger against the rock, as if running through the various options. ‘Okay,’ she said at last, rising. ‘You’re to stay with Nelson and Harriet until we come back for you, understand?’
Alistair and Tibby nodded solemnly.
Slippers’ gaze softened. She tugged the ends of Alistair’s scarf to straighten it, then smoothed the fur on Tibby’s head. ‘We’ll see you soon,’ she promised.
Feast gave them a wink. ‘Be good, kiddos,’ he said.
Alistair and Tibby watched them hurry back down the path they had so recently travelled, then turned towards the town.
‘Let’s skirt around the outside,’ Alistair suggested, remembering the stir they had caused last time they’d walked through Templeton. The mice of the town were no friends to those with ginger fur.
‘Good idea,’ said Tibby. As they walked on, she asked, ‘Do you think we’re still meant to meet with Granville and write a pamphlet to change the Sourians’ minds about their occupation of Gerander?’ she asked.
‘Slippers did say we should proceed with our mission,’ Alistair pointed out. ‘And we can’t just sit around doing nothing. Besides, as long as we’re staying with your grandpa and great-aunt we’ll be safe.’
