Duncton Stone by William Horwood Page A

too quickly.
    “Must go, Sturne, must go now,” Pumpkin would be the one to say, for Sturne could never bear to initiate their partings.
    “Yes, I suppose you must, Pumpkin. But, mole, be careful, I... I would not wish any harm to come to you. You are needed in Duncton by others now. Much needed!”
    It was the nearest Sturne ever got to saying he needed Pumpkin as much as any mole. As for touching his friend, well, he could not bring himself to so overt an expression of friendship. But Pumpkin could and did, patting Sturne’s paw and saying, “There’ll be help come soon, now that spring’s here. You’ll see!”
    How long the feel of Pumpkin’s thin paw on Sturne’s remained after Pumpkin had gone, as he stared unmoving at where his friend had been; and how often in those terrible moleyears did Sturne feel the fears and rushes of emotion that came when he thought – though he quickly blocked it out of his mind – what it would be like if Pumpkin were taken, if his dear friend were to find himself again in their paws.
    No, no, Sturne could not bear to contemplate for long so dreadful a thing, before tears began to prick at his cold eyes, and a lump came to his throat.
    “No!” he would whisper harshly, as much to the emotion as the nightmare that provoked it. “No, it must not be!”
    Yet several times it nearly was, though Pumpkin never admitted it. For those journeys to meet Sturne were dangerous, and it seemed only a matter of time before Pumpkin was caught again. Twice it nearly happened, and a third time, at night, he was chased all the way back towards the Stone, only eluding his pursuers at the very end when, by some chance, they headed off in another direction.
    Then he had lain panting at the Stone, thanking it for his deliverance, until Cluniac joined him and together they had returned to the followers.
    “Did you pray all night?” Cluniac had asked innocently.
    “All night, Cluniac,” lied Pumpkin, yawning. “Yes, all night...”
    But it had been no “chance” that had led to the Newborn guards being diverted. For what Pumpkin did not know was that it had long been Cluniac’s habit to follow the old library aide across the Wood, and to watch over him secretly against just such dangers as that particular night had brought. Nor did he suspect that Cluniac had finally observed that meetings with no less a mole than Sturne were the reason for Pumpkin’s mysterious and dangerous disappearances. At first he had deduced that Pumpkin must be a traitor, for allmole knew that Sturne was Newborn. But after a time Cluniac had come to realize that the unbelievable was true: Sturne was a follower, and his acceptance of the Newborn dogma a pretence.
    How tempted the young mole had been to confront Pumpkin with his discovery, but instinct told him not to, nor to confide in anymole-else, not even his mother Elynor. After his discovery Cluniac felt greatly in awe of Pumpkin and Sturne, astonished that moles he regarded as old and frail should be so steadfast and courageous. He understood then the true nature of the Duncton spirit, and saw with his own eyes the kind and calibre of mole who had always emerged from Duncton Wood when they were needed to uphold the followers’ traditions of tolerance, love, and faith in the old ways of worshipping the Stone.
    Sometimes then, though Cluniac never admitted it, he would himself pray to the Stone, asking it to protect Pumpkin and Sturne, and others like Privet, Maple, Fieldfare and Chater, who had left the Wood for a time to see what they might do to conquer the Newborn.
    “Stone, give me such courage. Teach me to be a true Duncton mole. Help me support Pumpkin in every way I can...”
    So the days had gone by, and April had come, and Pumpkin saw as yet no answer to his prayers, nor any hope in the warmer sun and the return of spring. Yet still he crossed the surface to see Sturne, whose news was still of brutal Crusades, and disaster, and massacres, and all this