The wildcat flicked his tail in Captain Fraul's direction. "Suppose for a moment that I have you executed. Then the flies would feed off your miserable remains, and my spiders would catch the flies and devour them. So, in a roundabout way, they would have eaten you. Do you agree, Fraul?"
The stoat captain, too terrified to speak, merely nodded his head in frightened agreement of the horrific idea. Ungatt Trunn's tail curled beneath Fraul's chin, lifting his head so they were eye to eye. The wildcat leaned forward, a wickedly curious look upon his features.
"Hmm, and do you imagine that that would make my spiders become as thick and empty-headed as you?"
Fraul's throat bobbed visibly as he nodded once more.
Ungatt Trunn poured himself a goblet of dark damson wine, then sighed and sat back, watching the spiders. Ignoring Fraul's bobbing head, he turned his attention to Mirefleck. "I'm disappointed in you. I was under the impression that you had the makings of a good captain. Mayhap there's time yet for you to reflect on your stupidity. What do you think, Mirefleck? Shall I let you live, give you the opportunity to improve your ways? Or would you like to feed my spiders?"
The rat did not stir or nod, sensing that the wildcat was merely ruminating. She was right. Trunn smiled, as if humoring Groddil.
"Ah, my faithful fox magician, you disobeyed me again. I wanted the stripedog alive, yet I've been told that many who were down there heard you shouting for him to be slain. I know you three are telling the truth about the stripedog's death. There were too many witnesses for it to have been a lie. But think, Groddil. There's something you forgot. Can you recall what it is, my friend?"
Groddil was far too petrified to answer, though he knew his master was about to tell him. Still smiling, Trunn spoke.
"What became of nearly a score of hares? Did you magic them away? Perhaps they vanished into thin air, or faded into the rocks down there? Tell me."
Groddil had no choice but to reply. "Mightiness, I am told there was only one of the longears seen, who escaped, helped by the stripedog. What became of him and his companions nobeast can say, sire. We could find no trace of them, though we searched hard and long."
Ungatt Trunn disregarded the fox. He was staring at two rats, who were providing the prisoners' escort for Groddil, Fraul and Mirefleck. "Aren't you two the new recruits to my Blue Hordes? Refresh my memorywhat are your names?"
The rat with a disfigured tooth curving onto his chin replied for them both. "Yer Tghness, we're brother searats, I'm Ripfang an' this is Doomeye, my kinrat."
Trunn nodded as he assessed the pair. "Former pirates, eh? I like that. Well, this is a lucky day for you. I'm promoting you both to the rank of captain. Exchange uniforms with Mirefleck and Fraul. From now on they are to be the lowest of Hordebeasts. They will be your servants, bring you food, carry out your wishes and keep both your accommodations and your kit clean. You have my permission to treat them as harshly as you please."
Stripping the uniforms from the former captains, Ripfang and Doomeye grinned in wicked anticipation. The wildcat observed the mixture of shame and relief on the faces of his demoted officers before continuing.
"Not so fast. You aren't off the hook yet, my friends. Before you take up your duties with my new captains, you will return to the cave where the stripedog perished. Take our friend Groddil with you; he'll enjoy it, I'm sure. Now, here's what you must do. The three of you will stay down there, until you capture the hares, or find out how they escaped. These two captains will take an escort to guard you. Each day that you are not successful in your task, you will be flogged with willow canes and given no food. Oh, cheer up. There's water aplenty down there, a great pool of ityou won't get thirsty. Ripfang, Doomeye, get these idiots out of my sight!"
The unhappy trio were marched unceremoniously off. Ungatt Trunn curled his tail about the Grand Fragorl's neck and drew her close to him, purring pleasurably.
"Did you see their faces? I spared them, humiliated them, they looked relieved. Then I sentenced them to a living death and they just looked blank. I tell you, Fragorl, pleasure comes through power, and power is everything!"
***********
The hares sat down to rest a moment in the long, downsloping tunnel. Bramwil rubbed the back of his neck and complained, "Ooh! 'Tain't much fun marchin' with the old neck bent all day. Ceiling should be a bit higher, wot?"
Stiffener smiled at the ancient hare. "Marchin' all day, ye say? How d'you know whether 'tis day or night? Looks all the same to me down 'ere."
Bramwil tugged at Blench's smock. "Er, how're things on the vittle front, marm? Give young Stiffener a carrot he can't tell night from bally day, wot. I can though, an' I'll tell ye how. That blue light ahead is goin' dimmer, so it must be evenin' out there!"
Blench turned her bag inside out and shook it. "H'ain't a crumb o' vittles left, ole Bram. Yore right, though-it must be gettin' dark outside, the light has faded."
"I could do a spot o' damage to a rhubarb tart right now. Wouldn't mind if it was hot or jolly well cold ..."
Stiffener glared at Willip in the torchlight. "A word in yore ear, marm. Don't start talkin' about scoff, 'tis the fastest way for a hare t'go mad. You'll have everybeast goin' on about feasts they were at seasons ago. All that ripe fruit an' crumbly cheese an' summer salad, aye, an' bilberry cordial. Look, you've got me at it now!"
Trobee's stomach rumbled, and he sighed unhappily. "Yes, let's. Well, what else is there to bloomin' well talk about? My tummy's in a blinkin' turmoil!"
Stiffener peered down the tunnel. "Then think about 'ow lucky we are. Light fadin' means we got a good chance of not bein' spotted under cover o' darkness. There's somethin' in our favor, mates."
Purlow started up, batting at his scut. "Yowch, confound it, somebeast just bit me!"
Stiffener swung the torch in his direction. "Where?"
"Right on the end o' me bobtail, old lad, where d'y'think?"
Stiffener shoved him roughly aside. "I never asked where y'were bit, I meant where was the beast that bit ye?"
Blench held out her no longer empty bag with both paws. "Ah, look, bless 'im, 'tis only a liddle crabthing. Got a spiky back, too. Big claws for such a young 'un, though."
Purlow wagged his paw in the crab's face. "You small cad, how dare y'bite my tail? Wait'll I tell your mama!"
Trobee grabbed the torch from Stiffener and stared wide-eyed. "Zounds! You won't have long t'wait, old lad. Here comes his mama right now, an' the whole confounded crab clan!"
They were spiny spider crabs, with spiked backs covered in sharp spines, long red legs and fearsome-looking claws. Very aggressive crustaceans indeed. Blench tipped the baby crab onto the floor in a hurry.
"Oh corks, there must be 'undreds an' 'undreds o' the villains. Wot d'ye suppose they want?"
Stiffener weighed up the dangerous situation. "So that's wot the rhyme meant, the spinies! Listen to that waternoise buildin' up down therethe tide must be comin' in. We're in those crabs' way. They're tryin' t'get further up the tunnel to stop theirselves bein' washed away by the waves. I don't like the way they're clackin' those big nipper things an' openin' their jaws. Maybe they think we're vittles, somethin' good to eat!"
Scuttling sideways, the teeming masses of crabs advanced, claws held high and snapping open and shut, blowing froth and bubbles from their gaping mouths. The noise of them could be heard over the advancing tide outside. It sounded like a shower of hailstones as their hard-shelled legs rattled against the rocks. The hares looked to Stiffener.
"What d'you think we should do?"
The boxing hare decided instantly there was only one answer to Bramwil's query. "We've got to run for it, straight through the middle o' those blighters, an' not stop for anythin'. They're tryin' to get away from the sea, we're tryin' to get to it, might be a bit of an 'elp. Trobee, me'n'you will take the lead an' see if'n we can batter through. The rest of ye, stay close together. Willip, Blench, stick in the middle, keep tight 'old of Bramwil. Well, 'ere goes, mates. Eulaliaaaa!"