Chapter 2
A Prince from Far Away
Far to the north from the Abbey of Redwall, there was a place of which few beasts in Mossflower were aware. It was northerly enough, at least, that the land had a dismal, foggy air, but not so far that there was not a spring and a summer. It was gently mountainous, as is typical in the Northlands. It was long settled. Much of the low parts had been cleared and plowed at one time or another, leaving a lot of bald grassy fields and patches of woodland, but the hills were cloaked in a graceful old conifer forest which had stood there for many centuries, quietly watching the doings of beasts.
It was watching when King Mortspear came through here long ago. He called this place Vale Duresse—a troublesome valley. It was not so troublesome as to be unconquerable, however. The forest watched him descend from the north, from who knows where. It watched the waters turn red. The eyes of beheaded creatures stared at it, and it stared back. Finally, the wildcat built a lodge on a summit, and then a granary, and then some walls. And then he left, except to return once in a while to collect food, or stone, or soldiers, or smiths. Once, he came to collect his issue. A princess.
He conquered the place so thoroughly that, even long after his death, the keep still stands, and the locals call it Mont Royal, for there were not many hills around that ever housed a king. The second oldest structure in the valley was the church where sacrifices were made to him, and tribute gathered.
It was some weeks now that a stranger came to Duresse, from the west, from who knows where, and did his best to burn the church down. He wore a ring of Mortspear.
The church didn't burn entirely. The portion of it that was made of wood was easy enough to destroy. The walls made of stones had been brought down with battery. The copse of trees around it had been felled. But the heart of it, the stone sanctum with its beehive roof, still stood.
A small group of beasts were gathered there, several of them bundled in striped or tartan shawls. These were locals, but there were some strangers there too, part of the retinue that the apparent prince had brought with him from the west. No matter their origin, every beast there watched with anxiety as the wildcat circled a pile of tools in the former churchyard.
Lucivane de Nocto was an uncommon beast. Most wildcats were the color of earth or wood, but this one was golden. He was not a hulking brute of a warlord, and needed no belt of skulls or kilt of skins to intimidate others. He was a prince. Primly clothed from neck to foot in black, he appeared sinister and luminous as a full moon. He had the awful eyes of his kind, pale green, sometimes slitted like a snake, sometimes unnervingly full and round. To goodbeasts, he looked like a nightmare. Vermin tended to assume he had seer powers.
He beckoned to a stoat of his who had been sitting on a tree stump, lazily chewing on a twig. The stoat came forward, pulled off his cap, and held it forth to the prince. Lucivane divested himself of his rings. He gave the stoat his sword and his black coat, leaving him in a white shirt and breeches. From the pile the wildcat chose a tool of dark iron that was like a very long chisel or pick. The farmers used it to break up inconvenient rocks in their fields. He drew it like an elegant rapier and gave it an approving look.
He lifted the tool above his head and drove it into the church steps in a powerful stroke. The stone cracked. A wild grin spread on the cat's face and he did it again and again, eventually splitting the stone in two. The onlookers drew astonished breaths, and some chewed on their hats, and some held their heads in their paws in despair at seeing the ancient structure crumble.
"Something like this will do," Lucivane said, straightening himself. He looked at the stoat. "Fleetclaw, did you summon the blacksmith?"
A blanketed mole stepped forward from the crowd. "Oi be 'ere, yer 'ighness."
The prince tossed the chisel at him. The mole caught it in both paws with some effort, as it was too long for his frame.
"Something like that," Lucivane said again. "For large foxes or ferrets. And me. Bigger, with a handle."
"Yes, Sir." The mole bowed his head. "Bit loike un old moining pick."
The prince donned his clothes again, and the foreign party left the natives to their confusion or sadness. Lucivane and his vermin trekked back up the hill to the old fort, Mont Royal, where they had taken up residence.
It was an old and not particularly grand assembly of structures. This was an outpost of the former kingdom. Most of the way up, there were stone steps, here and there an architectural flourish, a gargoyle or a viewing deck. The defense wall ran irregularly, following the idiosyncrasies of the land. Beyond it was a small complex of buildings, the largest of which was the lodge, the main hall and residence. Only the lodge was visible from without the wall, as a cascade of boldly peaked roofs like the hulls of several ships fused together. It was poorly maintained. No cat had lived there for some thirty seasons or so.
The steps routed them into a walled vestibule, at the end of which was the main gate, a portal twice the height of the largest beasts, with carvings on either side that resembled the faces of grimacing cats. Another wildcat, a bespectacled female, waved to them from atop the wall as they passed. When they were inside, Lucivane gave leave to the others and joined her. The wall was not so tall on the inside as outside, on account of the hill. To get atop it was a jog up a short flight of stairs, and in some places only an earthen slope.
Amis was looking through the ramparts out over the vale, chin in paws. She was a little drunk.
"You're back, cousin! Sit, sit!" she shoved a flask of wine at him. "Fancy a drink?"
Lucivane sniffed it. "Where did you get this?"
"'S a gift from the locals. For their new prince."
"Amis, I did not take you for a fool. What if it's poisoned?"
She snickered. "It's not! I made Hicham drink it first!"
Lucivane looked grim. "Let me see you drink once."
"How hurtful, cousin." She took a pull, then passed it to him. Mischievously, she even stuck out her tongue to show that it was stained purple.
Lucivane drank and sighed deeply. "I broke the stone at last," he said, peering out towards the church. "It won't be long now that I pull the place down for good."
"Aye, I saw from the glass. Tell me, what did you have to gain from taking away something those beasts loved, eh? We could have made a comfortable home here, no contest. I'm sure many of 'em hate us now."
He scoffed as he passed the wine to her. "I'll live. It's my land and I shall do as I wish. Anyway, they know not what they love."
"Oh? Have you had a vision?"
"Quiet!" Lucivane looked around slowly. Once he was assured that no one was within earshot, he continued. "I was unable to sleep that night. I went outside, to walk around on that landing down there with the columns."
"A colonnade," Amis corrected.
"Shut up, Amis."
She cackled.
"I heard a voice," Lucivane said. "I saw my mother in the trees. 'Twas she, told me to burn the church down. And come dawn, I did."
Amis was mid-swig when he said this. She sputtered, and then carefully set the flask down. "Aye? What did she look like?"
"Like my mother," Lucivane repeated, irritated at the inane question.
"Are you sure it was her? Exactly her? It was not...a witch's trick? Or some evil spirit in the woods, imitating her?"
"Possible," said Lucivane. "I can't recall. I've not seen my mother in ages. Hellsgate knows where she is now-probably raising her umpteenth spawn-but I doubt she's got anything to do with this place. Why should I have a vision of her? Do some reading. Maybe the answer is in your lorebooks."
"If I never touch a book again, I will be happy," grumbled Amis. "I was in that tower all those seasons up to my whiskers in books and scrolls, and, and charts. Ooh I hated the charts. Can't I just follow you around with a polearm or a cutlass? I could be a real intimidating henchbeast, you know. Just ghastly."
"I'll not waste you like that. You are the closest thing I have to a seer." He stood heavily, as if he was bearing a boulder in his lap.
"Learning is no replacement for sight. We are both one-half of a seer, you and I. You are the owl, and I merely a clever bat." She watched him for a moment as he wobbled, a paw on the rampart for support. "Are you quite alright, Nocto?"
"Fine. Just fine. This house is so musty I cannot breathe sometimes."
"But we're outside."
"Just do your job, Amis!" He took a struggling breath in. "I can't sand this place. Can't believe I journeyed so far for this stinking, rotten hovel. I'm going out for a hunt."
"The lads won't be happy about that," Amis observed. "They've been out in the sun all day. Shall I come with you?"
Lucivane gave her a steely look.
Amis let out a nervous chuckle. "Lemme rephrase that. I think, you should have someone with you. In case your mother decides to make an encore, or your brother's laundress or your grandmother's mistress or whatever. Come. I'm not drunk enough to walk off the mountain, I don't think."
She joined him and hooked her arm to his, giving him a bit of support as they descended the stairs from the wall top
Time for some author notes. Thank you all for the lovely reviews, first of all.
Waycaster: It's a good thing then that I was not intending it to be Latin, or to mean baby. It's a made up word, a play on Infanta, the Spanish title of princess. The actual male form is Infante, but psshh, details.
One-eye: I hope this wildcat chapter lives up to your expectations.
Grey Coincidence: Thank you for the detailed review. I'm glad Nadine came off as sympathetic.