THE COUNCIL.
Before Bevis could ask any questions, the squirrel went off to speak to
the rook, and to show him a good bough to perch on near the owl's
castle. He then came back and conducted Bevis to the seat in the
ash-stole, where he was hidden by the honeysuckle, but could see well
about him. Hardly had Bevis comfortably seated himself than the
councillors began to arrive. They were all there; even the rat did not
dare stay away, lest his loyalty should be suspected, but took up his
station at the foot of the pollard-tree, and the mouse sat beside him.
The rook sat on the oak, no great way from the squirrel; Kauc, the crow,
chose a branch of ash which projected close to the pollard. So envious
was he of the crown that he could not stay far from it.
Cloctaw, the jackdaw, who had flown to the council with him, upon
arrival, left his side, and perched rather in the rear. Reynard, the
fox, and Sec, the stoat, his friend, waited the approach of the king by
some fern near the foot of the pollard. The owl every now and then
appeared at the window of his castle, sometimes to see who had arrived,
and sometimes to look for the king, who was not yet in sight. Having
glanced round, the owl retreated to his study, doubtless to prepare his
speech for this important occasion. The heaving up of the leaves and
earth, as if an underground plough was at work, showed that the mole had
not forgotten his duty; he had come to show his loyalty, and he brought
a message from the badger, who had long since been left outside the
concert of the animals and birds, humbly begging King Kapchack to accept
his homage.
It is true that neither the hare nor the rabbit were present, but that
signified nothing, for they had no influence whatever. But the pheasant,
who often stood aloof from the court, in his pride of lineage despising
Kapchack though he was king, came on this occasion, for he too, like the
squirrel, was alarmed at the progress of Choo Hoo, and dreaded a
scarcity of the berries of the earth. Tchink, the chaffinch, one of the
first to come, could not perch still, but restlessly passed round the
circle, now talking to one and now to another, and sometimes peering in
at the owl's window. But merry as he was, he turned his back upon Te-te,
the tomtit, and chief of the spies, disdaining the acquaintance of a
common informer. Te-te, not one whit abashed, sat on a willow, and
lifted his voice from time to time.
The jay came presently, and for some reason or other he was in high good
spirits, and dressed in his gayest feathers. He chaffed the owl, and
joked with Tchink; then he laughed to himself, and tried to upset the
grave old Cloctaw from his seat, and, in short, played all sorts of
pranks to the astonishment of everybody, who had hitherto seen him in
such distress for the loss of his lady-love. Everybody thought he had
lost his senses. Eric, the favourite missel-thrush (not the
conspirator), took his station very high up on the ash above Kauc, whom
he hated and suspected of treason, not hesitating even to say so aloud.
Kauc, indeed, was not now quite comfortable in his position, but kept
slyly glancing up at the missel-thrush, and would have gone elsewhere
had it not been that everybody was looking.
The wood-pigeon came to the hawthorn, some little way from the castle;
he represented, and was the chief of those pigeons who dwelt peacefully
in Kapchack's kingdom, although aliens by race. His position was
difficult in the extreme, for upon the one hand he knew full well that
Kapchack was suspicious of him lest he should go over to Choo Hoo, and
might at any moment order his destruction, and upon the other hand he
had several messages from Choo Hoo calling upon him to join his
brethren, the invaders, on pain of severe punishment. Uncertain as to
his fate, the wood-pigeon perched on the hawthorn at the skirt of the
council place, hoping from thence to get some start if obliged to flee
for his life. The dove, his friend, constant in misfortune, sat near him
to keep him in countenance.
The humble-bee, the bee, the butterfly, the cricket, the grasshopper,
the beetle, and many others arrived as the hour drew on. Last of all
came Ki Ki, lord of all the hawks, attended with his retinue, and
heralding the approach of the king. Ki Ki perched on a tree at the side
of the pollard, and his warriors ranged themselves around him: a
terrible show, at which the mouse verily shrank into the ground.
Immediately afterwards a noise of wings and talking announced the
arrival of Kapchack, who came in full state, with eight of his finest
guards. The king perched on the top of the pollard, just over the owl's
window, and the eight magpies sat above and around, but always behind
him.
"What an ugly old fellow he is!" whispered Bevis, who had never before
seen him. "Look at his ragged tail!"
"Hush!" said the squirrel, "Te-te is too near."
"Are they all here?" asked the king, after he had looked round and
received the bows and lowly obeisance of his subjects.
"They are all here," said the owl, sitting in his porch. "They are all
here--at least, I think; no, they are not, your majesty."
"Who is absent?" said Kapchack, frowning, and all the assembly cowered.
"It is the weasel," said the owl. "The weasel is not here."
Kapchack frowned and looked as black as thunder, and a dead silence fell
upon the council.
"If it please your majesty," said the humble-bee, presently coming to
the front. "If it please your majesty, the weasel----"
"It does _not_ please me," said Kapchack.
But the humble-bee began again: "If it please your majesty----"
"His majesty is _not_ pleased," repeated the owl, severely.
But the humble-bee, who could sing but one tune, began again: "If it
please your majesty, the weasel asked me to say----"
"What?" said the king, in a terrible rage. "What did he say?"
"If it please your majesty," said the humble-bee, who must begin over
again every time he was interrupted, "the weasel asked me to say that he
sent his humble, his most humble, loyal, and devoted obedience, and
begged that you would forgive his absence from the council, as he has
just met with a severe accident in the hunting-field, and cannot put one
paw before the other."
"I do not believe it," said King Kapchack. "Where is he?"
"If it please your majesty," said the humble-bee, "he is lying on a bank
beyond the copse, stretched out in the sunshine, licking his paw, and
hoping that rest and sunshine will cure him."
"Oh, what a story!" said Bevis.
"Hush," said the squirrel.
"Somebody said it was a story," said the owl.
"So it is," said Te-te. "I have made it my business to search out the
goings-on of the weasel, who has kept himself in the background of late,
suspecting that he was up to no good, and with the aid of my lieutenant,
the tree-climber, I have succeeded in discovering his retreat, which he
has concealed even from your majesty."
"Where is it?" said Kapchack.
"It is in the elm, just there," said Te-te, "just by those raspberries."
"The rascal," said the owl, in a great fright. "Then he has been close
by all the time listening."
"Yes, he has been listening," said Te-te, meaningly.
The owl became pale, remembering the secret meeting of the birds, and
what was said there, all of which the treacherous weasel must have
overheard. He passed it off by exclaiming: "This is really intolerable".
"It _is_ intolerable," said Kapchack; "and you," addressing the
humble-bee, "wretch that you are to bring me a false message----"
"If it please your majesty," began the humble-bee, but he was seized
upon by the bee (who was always jealous of him), and the butterfly, and
the beetle, and hustled away from the precinct of the council.
"Bring the weasel here, this instant," shouted Kapchack. "Drag him here
by the ears."
Everybody stood up, but everybody hesitated, for though they all hated
the weasel they all feared him. Ki Ki, the hawk, bold as he was, could
not do much in the bushes, nor enter a hole; Kauc, the crow, was in the
like fix, and he intended if he was called upon to take refuge in the
pretence of his age; the stoat, fierce as he was, shrank from facing the
weasel, being afraid of his relation's tricks and stratagems. Even the
fox, though he was the biggest of all, hesitated, for he recollected
once when Pan, the spaniel, snapped at the weasel, the weasel made his
teeth meet in Pan's nostrils.
Thus they all hesitated, when the rat suddenly stood out and said: "I
will fetch the weasel, your majesty; I will bring that hateful traitor
to your feet".
"Do so, good and loyal rat," said the king, well pleased. And the rat
ran off to compel the weasel to come.
As the elm was so close, they all looked that way, expecting to hear
sounds of fighting; but in less than half-a-minute the rat appeared,
with the weasel limping on three legs in his rear. For when the weasel
heard what the rat said, he knew it was of no use to stay away any
longer; but in his heart he vowed that he would, sooner or later, make
the rat smart for his officious interference.
When he came near, the weasel fell down and bowed himself before the
king, who said nothing, but eyed him scornfully.
"I am guilty," said the weasel, in a very humble voice; "I am guilty of
disobedience to your majesty's commands, and I am guilty of sending you
a deceitful message, for which my poor friend the humble-bee has been
cruelly hustled from your presence; but I am not guilty of the treason
of which I am accused. I hid in the elm, your majesty, because I went in
terror of my life, and I feigned to be ill, in order to stay away from
the council, because there is not one of all these (he pointed to the
circle of councillors) who has not sworn to destroy me, and I feared to
venture forth. They have all banded together to compass my destruction,
because I alone of all of them have remained faithful to your throne,
and have not secretly conspired."
At these words, there was such an outcry on the part of all the birds
and animals, that the wood echoed with their cries; for the stoat
snapped his teeth, and the fox snarled, and the jay screamed, and the
hawk napped his wings, and the crow said "Caw!" and the rook "Haw!" and
all so eagerly denied the imputation, that it was some minutes before
even King Kapchack could make himself heard.
When the noise in some degree subsided, however, he said: "Weasel, you
are so false of tongue, and you have so many shifts and contrivances
('That he has!' said Bevis, who was delighted at the downfall of the
weasel), that it is no longer possible for any of us to believe anything
you say. We have now such important business before us, that we cannot
stop to proceed to your trial and execution, and we therefore order that
in the meantime you remain where you are, and that you maintain complete
silence--for you are degraded from your rank--until such time as we can
attend to your contemptible body, which will shortly dangle from a tree,
as a warning to traitors for all time to come. My lords, we will now
proceed with our business, and, first of all, the secretary will read
the roll-call of our forces."
The owl then read the list of the army, and said: "First, your majesty's
devoted body-guard, with--with Prince Tchack-tchack (the king frowned,
and the jay laughed outright) at their head; Ki Ki, lord of hawks, one
thousand beaks; the rooks, five thousand beaks; Kauc, the crow, two
hundred beaks;" and so on, enumerating the numbers which all the tribes
could bring to battle.
In the buzz of conversation that arose while the owl was reading (as it
usually does), the squirrel told Bevis that he believed the crow had not
returned the number of his warriors correctly, but that there were
really many more, whom he purposely kept in the background. As for
Prince Tchack-tchack, his absence from the council evidently disturbed
his majesty, though he was too proud to show how he felt the defection
of his eldest son and heir.
The number of the rooks, too, was not accurate, and did not give a true
idea of their power, for it was the original estimate furnished many
years ago, when Kapchack first organised his army, and although the
rooks had greatly increased since then, the same return was always made.
But it was well understood that the nation of the rooks could send, and
doubtless would send, quite ten thousand beaks into the field.
"It is not a little curious," said the squirrel, "that the rooks, who,
as you know, belong to a limited monarchy--so limited that they have no
real king--should form the main support of so despotic a monarch as
Kapchack, who obtains even more decisive assistance from them than from
the ferocious and wily Ki Ki. It is an illustration of the singular
complexity and paradoxical positions of politics that those who are
naturally so opposed, should thus form the closest friends and allies.
I do not understand why it is so myself, for as you know, dear, I do not
attempt to meddle with politics, but the owl has several times very
learnedly discoursed to me upon this subject, and I gather from him that
one principal reason why the rooks support the tyrant Kapchack, is
because they well know if he is not king some one else will be. Now
Kapchack, in return for their valuable services, has, for one thing,
ordered Ki Ki on no account to interfere with them (which is the reason
they have become so populous), and under the nominal rule of Kapchack
they really enjoy greater liberty than they otherwise could.
"But the beginning of the alliance, it seems, was in this way. Many
years ago, when Kapchack was a young monarch, and by no means firmly
established upon his throne, he sought about for some means of gaining
the assistance of the rooks. He observed that in the spring, when the
rooks repaired their dwellings, they did so in a very inferior manner,
doing indeed just as their forefathers had done before them, and
repeating the traditional architecture handed down through innumerable
generations. So ill-constructed were their buildings, that if, as often
chanced, the March winds blew with fury, it was a common thing to see
the grass strewn with the wreck of their houses. Now Kapchack and all
his race are excellent architects, and it occurred to him to do the
rooks a service, by instructing them how to bind their lower courses, so
that they should withstand the wind.
"With some difficulty, for the older rooks, though they would loudly
deny it, are eminently conservative (a thing I do not profess to
understand), he succeeded in persuading the younger builders to adopt
his design; and the result was that in the end they all took to it, and
now it is quite the exception to hear of an accident. Besides the
preservation of life, Kapchack's invention also saved them an immense
amount in timber for rebuilding. The consequence has been that the
rooks have flourished above all other birds. They at once concluded an
alliance with Kapchack, and as they increased in numbers, so they became
more firmly attached to his throne.
"It is not that they feel any gratitude--far from it, they are a selfish
race--but they are very keen after their own interest, which is,
perhaps, the strongest tie. For, as I observed, the rooks live under a
limited monarchy; they had real kings of their own centuries since, but
now their own king is only a name, a state fiction. Every single rook
has a voice in the affairs of the nation (hence the tremendous clamour
you may hear in their woods towards sunset when their assemblies are
held), but the practical direction of their policy is entrusted to a
circle or council of about ten of the older rooks, distinguished for
their oratorical powers. These depute, again, one of their own number to
Kapchack's court; you see him yonder, his name is Kauhaha. The council
considers, I have no doubt, that by supporting Kapchack they retain
their supremacy, for very likely if they did not have a foreigner to
reign over them, some clever genius of their own race would arise and
overturn these mighty talkers.
"On the other hand Kapchack fully appreciates their services, and if he
dared he would give the chief command of his forces to the generalissimo
of the rooks--not the one who sits yonder--the commander's name is Ah
Kurroo. But he dreads the jealousy of Ki Ki, who is extremely off-handed
and high in his ways, and might go off with his contingent. I am curious
to see who will have the command. As for the starlings, I daresay you
will notice their absence; they are under the jurisdiction of the rooks,
and loyal as their masters; the reason they are not here is because they
are already mobilised and have taken the field; they were despatched in
all haste very early this morning, before you were awake, Bevis dear, to
occupy the slope from whence the peewits fled. Now they are discussing
the doubtful allies."
"The larks," the owl was saying as the squirrel finished, "have sent a
message which I consider extremely impertinent. They have dared to say
that they have nothing whatever to do with the approaching contest, and
decline to join either party. They say that from time immemorial they
have been free mountaineers, owing allegiance to no one, and if they
have attended your court it has been from courtesy, and not from any
necessity that they were under."
"They are despicable creatures," said the king, who was secretly
annoyed, but would not show it. "Ki Ki, I deliver them over to you; let
your men plunder them as they like."
"The finches," went on the owl. "I hardly know----"
"We are loyal to the last feather," said Tchink, the chaffinch, bold as
brass, and coming to the front, to save his friends from the fate of the
larks. "Your majesty, we are perfectly loyal--why, our troops, whom you
know are only lightly armed, have already gone forward, and have
occupied the furze on the summits of the hills."
"I am much pleased," said the king, who had been a little doubtful.
"Tell your friends to continue in that spirit."
"With all my heart," said Tchink, laughing in Ki Ki's face; he actually
flew close by the terrible hawk, and made a face at him, for he knew
that he was disappointed, having hoped for permission to tear and rend
the finches as the larks.
"The thrushes," began the owl again.
"Pooh," said the king, "they are feeble things; we can easily keep the
whole nation of them in subjection by knocking out some of their brains
now and then, can't we, Ki Ki?"
"It is a capital way," said Ki Ki. "There is no better."
"They are fit for nothing but ambassadors and couriers," said Kapchack.
"We will not waste any more time over such folk whose opinions are
nothing to us. Now I call upon you all to express your views as to the
best means of conducting the campaign, and what measures had better be
taken for the defence of our dominions. Ki Ki, speak first."
"I am for immediate action," said Ki Ki. "Let us advance and attack at
once, for every day swells the ranks of Choo Hoo's army, and should
there be early frosts it would be so largely increased that the mere
numbers must push us back. Besides which in a short time he will receive
large reinforcements, for his allies, the fieldfares and redwings, are
preparing to set sail across the sea hither. But now, before his host
becomes irresistible, is our opportunity; I counsel instant attack. War
to the beak is my motto!"
"War to the beak," said the crow.
"War to the beak," said the jay, carefully adjusting his brightest
feathers, "and our ladies will view our deeds."
"I agree," said the rook, "with what Ki Ki says." The rook was not so
noisy and impetuous as the hawk, but he was even more warlike, and by
far the better statesman. "I think," Kauhaha went on, "that we should
not delay one hour, but advance and occupy the plain where Choo Hoo is
already diminishing our supplies of food. If our supplies are consumed
or cut off our condition will become critical."
"Hear, hear," said everybody except the crow, who hated the rook. "Hear!
hear! the rook speaks well."
"All are then for immediately advancing?" said Kapchack, much pleased.
"May it please your majesty," said the fox, thus humbling himself, he
who was the descendant of kings, "may it please your majesty, I am not
certain that the proposed course is the wisest. For, if I may be
permitted to say so, it appears to me that the facts are exactly
opposite to what Ki Ki and the rook have put forward as the reason for
battle. My experience convinces me that the very vastness of Choo Hoo's
host is really its weakness. The larger his numbers the less he can
effect. It is clear that they must soon, if they continue to draw
together in these enormous bodies, destroy all the forage of the
country, and unless they are prepared to die of starvation they must
perforce retire.
"If, therefore, your majesty could be prevailed upon to listen to my
counsels, I would the rather suggest, most humbly suggest, that the
defensive is your best course. Here in the copse you have an enclosure
capable with a little trouble of being converted into an impregnable
fortress. Already the ditches are deep, the curtain wall of hawthorn
high and impenetrable, the approaches narrow. By retiring hither with
your forces, occupying every twig, and opposing a beak in every
direction, you would be absolutely safe, and it is easy to foresee what
would happen.
"Choo Hoo, boastful and vainglorious, would approach with his enormous
horde; he would taunt us, no doubt, with his absurd 'Koos-takke,' which
I verily believe has no meaning at all, and of which we need take no
heed. In a few days, having exhausted the supplies, he would have to
retire, and then sallying forth we could fall upon his rear and utterly
destroy his unwieldy army."
This advice made some impression upon Kapchack, notwithstanding that he
was much prejudiced against the fox, for it was evidently founded upon
facts, and the fox was known to have had great experience. Kapchack
appeared thoughtful, and leaning his head upon one side was silent, when
Kauc, the crow (who had his own reasons for wishing Kapchack to run as
much risk as possible), cried out that the fox was a coward, and wanted
to sneak into a hole. Ki Ki shouted applaudingly; the rook said he for
one could not shut himself up while the country was ravaged; and the jay
said the ladies would despise them. Kapchack remembered that the fox had
always had a character for duplicity, and perhaps had some secret motive
for his advice, and just then, in the midst of the uproar, a starling
flew into the circle with part of his tail gone and his feathers greatly
ruffled.
It was evident that he had brought news from the seat of war, and they
all crowded about him. So soon as he had recovered breath the starling
told them that half-an-hour since Choo Hoo had himself crossed the
border, and driving in the outposts of the starlings, despite the most
desperate resistance, had passed the front line of the hills. At this
news the uproar was tremendous, and for some time not a word could be
heard. By-and-by the owl obtained something like order, when the rook
said he for one could not stay in council any longer, he must proceed to
assemble the forces of his nation, as while they were talking his city
might be seized. Ki Ki, too, flapping his wings, announced his intention
of attacking; the jay uttered a sneer about one-eyed people not being
able to see what was straight before them, and thus goaded on against
his better judgment, Kapchack declared his intention of sending his army
to the front.
He then proceeded to distribute the commands. Ki Ki was proclaimed
commander-in-chief (the rook did not like this, but he said nothing, as
he knew Kapchack could not help himself), and the rooks had the right
wing, the crow the left wing (the crow was surprised at this, for his
usual post was to guard the rear, but he guessed at once that Kapchack
suspected him, and would not leave him near the palace), and the owl had
the reserve. As they received their orders, each flew off; even the owl,
though it was daylight, started forth to summon his men, and though he
blundered against the branches, did not stay a second on that account.
The squirrel had charge of the stores, and jumped down to see after
them. Not one was forgotten, but each had an office assigned, and went
to execute it, all except the fox and the weasel. The weasel, obedient
to orders, lay still at the foot of the pollard, humbly hiding his head.
The fox, presently finding that he had been overlooked, crept under
Kapchack, and, bowing to the earth, asked if there was no command and no
employment for him.
"Begone," said Kapchack, who was not going to entrust power to one of
royal descent. "Begone, sir; you have not shown any ability lately."
"But did not the gnat tell you?" began the fox, humbly.
"The gnat told me a great deal," said Kapchack.
"But did he not say I sent him?"
"No, indeed," said Kapchack, for the gnat, not to be outdone, had indeed
delivered the fox's message, but had taken the credit of it for himself.
"Begone, sir (the fox slunk away); and do you (to his guards) go to the
firs and wait for me there." The eight magpies immediately departed, and
there was no one left but the weasel.
The king looked down at the guilty traitor; the traitor hung his head.
Presently the king said: "Weasel, false and double-tongued weasel, did I
not choose you to be my chiefest and most secret counsellor? Did you not
know everything? Did I not consult you on every occasion, and were you
not promoted to high honour and dignity? And you have repaid me by
plotting against my throne, and against my life; the gnat has told me
everything, and it is of no avail for you to deny it. You double
traitor, false to me and false to those other traitors who met in this
very place to conspire against me. It is true you were not among them in
person, but why were you not among them? Do you suppose that I am to be
deceived for a moment? Wretch that you are. You set them on to plot
against me while you kept out of it with clean paws, that you might
seize the throne so soon as I was slain. Wretch that you are."
Here the weasel could not endure it any longer, but crawling to the foot
of the tree, besought the king with tears in his eyes to do what he
would--to order him to instant execution, but not to reproach him with
these enormities, which cut him to the very soul. But the more he
pleaded, the more angry Kapchack became, and heaped such epithets upon
the crouching wretch, and so bitterly upbraided him that at last the
weasel could bear it no more, but driven as it were into a corner,
turned to bay, and faced the enraged monarch.
He sat up, and looking Kapchack straight in the face, as none but so
hardened a reprobate could have done, he said, in a low but very
distinct voice: "You have no right to say these things to me, any more
than you have to wear the crown! I do not believe you are Kapchack at
all--you are an impostor!"
At these words Kapchack became as pale as death, and could not keep his
perch upon the pollard, but fluttered down to the ground beside the
weasel. He was so overcome that for a moment or two he could not speak.
When he found breath, he turned to the weasel and asked him what he
meant. The weasel, who had now regained his spirits, said boldly enough
that he meant what he said; he did not believe that the king was really
Kapchack.
"But I am Kapchack," said the king, trembling, and not knowing how much
the weasel knew.
In truth the weasel knew very little, but had only shot a bolt at random
from the bow of his suspicions, but he had still a sharper shaft to
shoot, and he said: "You are an impostor, for you told La Schach, who
has jilted you, that you were not so old as you looked."
"The false creature!" said Kapchack, quite beside himself with rage. In
his jealousy of Prince Tchack-tchack, who was so much younger, and had
two eyes, he had said this, and now he bitterly repented his vanity.
"The false creature!" he screamed, "where is she? I will have her torn
to pieces! She shall be pecked limb from limb! Where is she?" he
shrieked. "She left the palace yesterday evening, and I have not seen
her since."
"She went to the firs with the jay," said the weasel. "He is her old
lover, you know. Did you not see how merry he was just now, at the
council?"
Then Kapchack pecked up the ground with his beak, and tore at it with
his claws, and gave way to his impotent anger.
"There shall not be a feather of her left!" he said. "I will have her
utterly destroyed! She shall be nailed to a tree!"
"Nothing of the kind," said the weasel, with a sneer. "She is too
beautiful. As soon as you see her, you will kiss her and forgive her."
"It is true," said Kapchack, becoming calmer. "She is so beautiful, she
must be forgiven. Weasel, in consideration of important services
rendered to the state in former days, upon this one occasion you shall
be pardoned. Of course the condition is that what has passed between us
this day is kept strictly private, and that you do not breathe a word of
it."
"Not a word of it," said the weasel.
"And you must disabuse your mind of that extraordinary illusion as to my
identity of which you spoke just now. You must dismiss so absurd an idea
from your mind."
"Certainly," said the weasel, "it is dismissed entirely. But, your
majesty, with your permission, I would go further. I would endeavour to
explain to you, that although my conduct was indiscreet, and so far open
to misconstruction, there was really nothing more in it than an
ill-directed zeal in your service. It is really true, your majesty, that
all the birds and animals are leagued against me, and that is why I have
been afraid to stir abroad. I was invited to the secret council, of
which you have heard from the gnat, and because I did not attend it,
they have one and all agreed to vilify me to your majesty.
"But in fact I, for once, with the service of your majesty in view,
descended (repugnant as it was to my feelings) to play the eavesdropper,
and I overheard all that was said, and I can convince your majesty that
there are far greater traitors in your dominions than you ever supposed
me to be. The gnat does not know half that took place at the council,
for he only had it second-hand from that villain, the fox, who is, I
believe, secretly bent on your destruction. But I can tell you not only
all that went on--I can also relate to you the designs of Kauc, the
crow, who conferred with Cloctaw in private, after the meeting was over.
And I can also give you good reasons for suspecting Ki Ki, the hawk,
whom you have just nominated to the command of your forces, of the
intention of making a bargain with Choo Hoo, and of handing you over to
him a prisoner."
Now this last was a pure invention of the weasel's out of envy, since Ki
Ki had obtained such distinction. Kapchack, much alarmed at these words,
ordered him to relate everything in order, and the weasel told him all
that had been said at the council, all that Kauc, the crow, had said to
Cloctaw, and a hundred other matters which he made up himself. When
Kapchack heard these things he was quite confounded, and exclaimed that
he was surrounded with traitors, and that he did not see which way to
turn. He hopped a little way off, in order the better to consider by
himself, and leant his head upon one side.
First he thought to himself: "I must take the command from Ki Ki, but I
cannot do that suddenly, lest he should go over to Choo Hoo. I will
therefore do it gradually. I will countermand the order for an immediate
attack; that will give me time to arrange. Who is to take Ki Ki's place?
Clearly the weasel, for though he is an archtraitor, yet he is in the
same boat with me; for I know it to be perfectly true that all of them
are bitter against him."
So he went back to the weasel, and told him that he should give him the
chief command of the forces, on the third day following, and meantime
told him to come early in the evening to the drain which passed under
the orchard, where his palace was, so that he could concert the details
of this great state business in secret with him.
The weasel, beyond measure delighted at the turn things had taken, and
rejoicing extremely at the impending fall of Ki Ki, whom he hated,
thanked Kapchack with all his might, till Kapchack, enjoining on him the
necessity of secrecy, said "Good-afternoon"; and flew away towards the
firs, where his guard was waiting for him. Then the weasel, puffed up
and treading the ground proudly, went back to his cave in the elm, and
Bevis, seeing that there was nothing more going on that day, stole back
to the raspberry canes.
None of them had noticed, not even the cunning weasel, that the mole,
when the council broke up, had not left with the rest: indeed, being
under the surface of the earth, they easily overlooked him. Now the
mole, who hated the weasel beyond all, had waited to have the pleasure
of hearing King Kapchack upbraid the traitor, and presently consign him
to execution. Fancy then his feelings when, after all, the weasel was
received into the highest favour, and promised the supreme command of
the army, while he himself was not even noticed, though he was a clever
engineer, and could mine and countermine, and carry on siege operations
better than any of them.
He listened to all that was said attentively, and then, so soon as
Kapchack had flown away, and the weasel had gone to his hole, and Bevis
to the raspberries, he drove a tunnel to the edge of the copse, and
there calling a fly, sent him with a message to the hawk, asking Ki Ki
to meet him beside the leaning stone in the field (which Bevis had once
passed), because he had a secret to communicate which would brook no
delay. At the same time, as Kapchack was flying to the firs where his
guards were waiting, it occurred to him that, although he had no
alternative, it was dangerous in the extreme to trust the army to the
weasel, who, perhaps, just as there was an opportunity of victory, would
retire, and leave him to be destroyed. Thinking about this, he perched
on a low hawthorn bush, and asked himself whether it was worth while to
attempt to defend a kingdom held under such precarious tenure. Would it
not be better to make terms with Choo Hoo, who was not unreasonable, and
to divide the territory, and thus reign in peace and safety over half at
least,--making it, of course, a condition of the compact that Choo Hoo
should help him to put down all domestic traitors?
The idea seemed so good that, first glancing round to see that he was
not observed, he called a thrush, who had been coming to the hawthorn,
but dared not enter it while the king was there. The thrush, much
frightened, came as he was bid, and Kapchack carefully instructed him in
what he was to do. Having learnt his message by heart, the thrush,
delighted beyond expression at so high a negotiation being entrusted to
him, flew straight away towards Choo Hoo's camp. But not unobserved; for
just then Ki Ki, wheeling in the air at an immense height, whither he
had gone to survey the scene of war, chanced to look down and saw him
quit the king, and marked the course he took. Kapchack, unaware that Ki
Ki had detected this manoeuvre, now returned to his guards, and flew
to his palace.
Meantime the weasel, curled up on his divan in the elm, was thinking
over the extraordinary good fortune that had befallen him. Yet such was
his sagacity that even when thus about to attain almost the topmost
pinnacle of his ambition, he did not forget the instability of affairs,
but sought to confirm his position, or even to advance it. He reflected
that Kapchack was not only cunning beyond everything ever known, but he
was just now a prey to anxieties, and consumed with jealousy, which
upset the tenor of his mind, so that his course could not be depended
upon, but might be changed in a moment. The favour of a despotic monarch
was never a firm staff to lean upon; when that monarch was on the brink
of a crisis which threatened both his throne and his life, his smile
might become a frown before any one was aware that a change was
impending.
Impressed with these ideas, the weasel asked himself how he could at
once secure his position and advance himself to further dignity. He
considered that up to the present the forces of Kapchack had always been
compelled to retreat before the overwhelming masses thrown against them
by Choo Hoo. He could scarcely hope under the most favourable
circumstances to do more than defend the frontier, and should Choo Hoo
win the battle, Kapchack would either be taken prisoner, or, what was
not at all unlikely, fall a victim during the confusion, and be
assassinated, perhaps, by the villainous crow. Where, then, would be his
own high command? But by making terms with Choo Hoo he might himself
obtain the throne, and reign perfectly secure as Choo Hoo's regent.
On coming to this conclusion, he called to his old friend the
humble-bee, and said he desired to send a message to Choo Hoo, the
purport of which must not be divulged to any flower upon the route. The
humble-bee instantly guessed that this message must be something to the
injury of Kapchack, and resenting the manner in which he had been
hustled from the council, declared that he would carry it without a
moment's delay.
"Go then, my friend," said the weasel. "Go straight to Choo Hoo, and
say: 'The weasel is appointed to the command of King Kapchack's army,
and will supersede Ki Ki, the hawk, upon the third day. On that day he
will lead forth the army to the south, professing to go upon a flank
march, and to take you in the rear. Be not deceived by this movement,
but so soon as you see that the guards are withdrawn from the frontier,
cross the border in force, and proceed straight towards the palace. When
Kapchack's army finds you between it and its base of supplies it will
disperse, and you will obtain an easy victory.
"'And in proof of his good-will towards you, the weasel, furthermore,
bade me inform you of the great secret which has hitherto been preserved
with such care, and which will enable your army to remain in this place
all the winter. In the squirrel's copse there is a spring, which is
never frozen, but always affords excellent drinking water, and moistens
a considerable extent of ground.'" This was the weasel's message, and
without a moment's delay the humble-bee buzzed away direct to Choo Hoo's
camp.
At the same time the fly with the mole's message reached Ki Ki, the
hawk, as he was soaring among the clouds. Ki Ki, having finished his
observations, and full of suspicions as to the object with which the
king had despatched the thrush to Choo Hoo, decided to keep the mole's
appointment at once, so down he flew direct to the leaning stone in the
meadow, where Bevis had gathered the cowslips, and found the mole
already waiting for him.
Now, the mole hated Ki Ki exceedingly, because, as previously related,
he had killed his wife, but he hated the weasel, who had persecuted him
all his life, even more, and by thus betraying the weasel to the hawk he
hoped to set the two traitors by the ears, and to gratify his own
vengeance by seeing them tear each other to pieces. Accordingly he now
informed Ki Ki of everything--how the weasel had disclosed the names of
all those who attended the secret meeting (except one, _i.e._, the owl,
which, for reasons of his own, the weasel had suppressed), particularly
stating that Ki Ki had taken a foremost part, that Kapchack was enraged
against the hawk, and had already promised the weasel the chief command,
so that in three days Ki Ki would be superseded.
Ki Ki, suppressing his agitation, thanked the mole very cordially for
his trouble, and soared towards the sky, but he had scarce gone a
hundred yards before one of Kapchack's body-guard met him with a message
from the king countermanding the advance of the army which had been
decided upon. Ki Ki replied that his majesty's orders should be
implicitly obeyed and continued his upward flight. He had now no doubt
that what the mole had told him was correct in every particular, since
it had been so immediately confirmed; and as for the thrush, it seemed
clear that Kapchack had some design of saving himself by the sacrifice
of his friends. That must be his reasons for countermanding the
advance--to give time for negotiation. Angry beyond measure, Ki Ki flew
to his own clump of trees, and calling to him a keen young hawk--one of
his guard, and who was only too delighted to be selected for
confidential employment--sent him with a flag of truce to Choo Hoo.
He was to say that Ki Ki, being disgusted with the treachery of King
Kapchack, had determined to abandon his cause, and that on the day of
battle, in the midst of the confusion, if Choo Hoo would push forward
rapidly, Ki Ki would draw off his contingent and expose the centre, when
Kapchack must inevitably be destroyed. Away flew the hawk, and thus in
one hour Choo Hoo received three messengers.