Eagle Warrior: From The Best-Selling Children's Adventure Trilogy

By Roger Mortimer

In the distant mouse kingdom of Carminel, a terrible civil war has broken out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Apostrophe Books Ltd
• Release date: Feb 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781908556158

Roger Mortimer

A Londoner by birth and a Devonian by adoption, Roger Mortimer originally worked for an advertising agency, where he met his wife; they have been married for over forty years. He then became an actor, training at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, and working in theatres up and down the country. Finally he became a teacher at Highgate Junior School in North London, where he started the school library, taught History, English and Drama and directed over twenty plays. (One of his former pupils is Tom Hooper, director of ‘The King’s Speech’.) While teaching at Highgate, Roger wrote the Mouse Kingdom trilogy. He has now retired from teaching and he and his wife live in Devon. One of their daughters is a teacher in a North London primary school; the other is an actress, currently on a world tour of Richard III. Roger enjoys gardening, photography and reading novels: his favourite author is Bernard Cornwell, author of the Sharpe series. When his wife allows him into the kitchen, Roger also enjoys cooking – curries are his speciality. He loves archery, and spends Sunday mornings at his local archery club, pretending he’s at Agincourt. He volunteers as a reader for talking newspapers for the blind, and he particularly enjoys his role as a volunteer Steward and Guide at Exeter Cathedral.

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For Annie, Becky, Katherine and Charlie

Contents

Part One: The Lost Crown

1. The Battle

2. The Trial

3. Gideon Returns

4. Secret Meetings

5. The Plan

6. The Birthday of the Lord of Light

7. The Crown

8. The End of a Traitor

Part Two: The Island of Gold

9. The Bonaventure

10. The Battle of Vittles Lane

11. Capture!

12. ‘Take Over the Ship!’

13. The Secret

14. Death on the Island

15. The Battle of Quincy Manor

16. Sea-Battle!

Part Three: The Eagles Return

17. Treason!

18. A Villain Returns

19. Cambray Attacks

20. Gideon Advances

21. Cambray’s Nightmare

22. The Lord of Light

23. The Dying King

24. The Saint and the Sinner

25. Coronation Day

Copyright

About the author

Part One: The Lost Crown

1. The Battle

It was the worst storm the mice of Aramon could remember. Savage streaks of lightning tore the night apart, and thunder roared above the trembling town until its echoes died away across the sea.

High on the hilltop, the Great Fortress stood like a rock. But below, the little houses cringed under the onslaught and the narrow streets became rushing, tumbling rivers that poured down to the docks and cascaded into the harbour. Rain spat like angry cats down the chimneys and the smouldering logs hissed back, so that the mice coughed and choked and wiped their streaming eyes. Candlelight wavered as the storm-wind howled under doors and whistled through cracks in window frames.

But it was not just the storm that was keeping the mice of Aramon from their beds. Away to the west, on Barrowdown Moor, a great battle was being fought, a battle to decide who would rule over Carminel: Auriol, King of the Mouse-Kind, or his treacherous brother, Cardinal Rumont.

For as long as he could remember, Rumont’s heart had overflowed with envy for the gentle King, his brother. And so, stealthily and slyly, he had gone among the greedy merchant-mice of Aramon, pouring into their ears his poisonous lies, disguised as promises of riches.

At last, one terrible night, he and his followers had driven out King Auriol. But the King still held the Crown; and no mouse could claim power without it. And King Auriol had plenty of friends! The loyal country-mice flocked to his standard. Cheerfully exchanging their sickles for swords, they left their farms in the lush valleys of Carminel and marched off to fight for their king.

But not only the country-mice. From the High Collada Mountains, far to the north, came the hardiest mice of all. And with them came the eagles.

Between the mice and the eagles there was perfect trust; and all through the summer’s fighting, Gideon, Lord of the Eagles, had led his squadron to victory after victory. This valiant warrior was the hero of the King’s army: but Cardinal Rumont hated the very sound of Gideon’s name.

Now, after the long, hot summer of civil war, one battle remains to be fought – the battle for Aramon, capital of Carminel. And Cardinal Rumont skulks alone, high in the Great Fortress, waiting for news ...

All afternoon, the two armies on Barrowdown Moor watched one another in a tense silence across the narrow stream that separated them. Slowly, the sun sank in a blood-red blaze; but storm clouds were building to the north and gradually, like another army, they advanced across the sky. For a few minutes more, the dying light shone on the great scarlet and blue banners, floating like clouds above the armies. Then the storm clouds smothered the sky and the light died.

From the crest of the slope, King Auriol watched as darkness cloaked the Rebel Army. It was getting late; too late for a battle. ‘Let our mice rest and eat,’ he said.

As the word spread, his soldiers gratefully grounded their weapons and dug in their knapsacks for cold pies and pasties. Ale and cider went the rounds.

But the Rebel Army stood motionless. All but one mouse who went panting up the slope until he reached the commander of the Cardinal’s army: the tough, brutal General Cambray.

‘The King’s army has broken ranks, sir!’ gasped the messenger. ‘They’re having supper!’

General Cambray’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. Slowly, he dragged on a shabby yellow buff-coat, strapped on his sword and clamped a helmet on to his head. His whiskers quivered at the thought of battle – and of the plunder he would get when it was over. General Cambray fought for no mouse but himself.

‘Good,’ he growled. ‘Wait for the rain. Shouldn’t be long now. Then pass the word to the front line to advance.’

Minutes later, the storm broke. Between the flashes of lightning, the Rebel line crept forward and crossed the stream. But the King’s mice, huddled under their capes, did not see them. Cautiously, the General’s mice advanced up the opposite slope. The rain had turned the ground to mud, and they slipped and slithered as they crept towards their enemy. Lightning flashed – a King’s mouse yelled in alarm – and his comrades scrabbled frantically for their weapons. Their gunpowder was soaked, so they drew their swords and hurled themselves upon their attackers.

King Auriol yelled an order: but already his eagles, the pride of his army, were flying! In a rippling line, they rose above the crest, soaring into the stormy sky, gaining height for the charge. And leading them, his scarlet cloak streaming out behind him, rode Gideon.

All that summer, Gideon’s eagles had struck terror into the Rebels, striking without warning, swooping out of nowhere, their riders screaming and brandishing their swords. Now, high above the battle, Gideon rode his great eagle, Galliard, into the charge. The mouse saw the front line of Cambray’s army reeling in terror. He felt the familiar surge of excitement and drew his rapier.

Down swooped the eagles, screaming their challenge, talons flickering in the lightning, the warrior-mice on their backs waving their rapiers and yelling like furies. Lower and lower, skimming over the King’s army until they were almost above the Rebels’ front line ...

But Gideon had not yet fought against General Cambray. The General snapped an order and from behind their screen of bushes the great guns flamed and roared. Shells screamed into the air and burst into blazing fragments.

And the first eagles fell. They had never known defeat: but these massive guns terrified them. Most simply wheeled away and fled. Many plummeted to the ground, their riders dragged away as prisoners.

But high above the battle, one eagle remained. Galliard’s eyes flashed in fury, and she screamed defiance. Gideon raised his rapier and yelled, ‘Lord of Light! Do you run? Follow me!’

A shell burst directly above him. Below, mice flinched from the blinding glare and shut their eyes. When they opened them, mouse and eagle had vanished.

‘Hold your fire!’ roared Cambray, and his snout twisted into a savage grin.

All over the moor, a deathly silence fell. Then the Rebels heard a terrible, despairing cry. It was the mice of the King’s army; without Gideon, they knew that the battle was lost.

Cambray raised his sword. ‘Advance!’

Through the clinging mud and driving rain, his victorious troops struggled up the slope. All around them, the King’s mice were scattering into the darkness. At the crest of the ridge the Rebels halted. There stood Auriol, King of the Mouse-Kind, and his little son, Armand. At their feet, the Royal Banner of Carminel lay like a pool of blood.

‘You fool!’ squealed Cardinal Rumont. ‘You blundering, thick-headed fool!’ Firelight rippled across his purple robe and glittered on the Great Star of the Lord of Light, the god of the Mouse-Kind, that he wore on his breast.

From the fireplace, General Cambray watched Rumont through cunning little eyes. He felt noth­ing but contempt for this sleek, smooth mouse who had spent the battle skulking in safety while his followers were fighting on the moor. The small room, high in the Great Fortress, was warm and cosy after the rain and mud of the battlefield. The General helped himself to wine and slurped it noisily. Replacing the empty goblet on the table, he deliberately scraped it across the polished surface.

‘Don’t do that!’ yelled Rumont. ‘It sets my teeth on edge!’

For a moment, Cambray felt sorry for his army who had fallen for Rumont’s easy promises of money and land. For all his talk about ‘freedom’ and ‘brotherhood’, all the Cardinal really cared about was power. But now that Cambray had won his war for him, Rumont was about to see that bright dream turn into a nightmare.

‘Where is it?’ hissed Rumont furiously. ‘Give me the Crown!’

Cambray stared insolently. ‘I told you. I ain’t got it.’

Rumont’s eyes flashed. ‘You must have it! How can I claim the throne without it? That Crown possesses power that comes from the Lord of Light himself!’

Cambray lumbered across the room until he towered over Rumont. ‘You’ve never cared a fig for the Lord of Light,’ he sneered, ‘for all your being a cardinal, and dressing in silks and satins, and wearing a star on your chest! If you want the Crown,’ he went on, thrusting his ugly snout close to Rumont’s scared face, ‘you’d better go an’ dig for it in the mud on Barrowdown. Because if you don’t find it, someone else might ...’

Rumont turned away, biting his claws in sudden terror. His quest for power was not over yet. General Cambray had won the war. Now, he wanted the Crown of Carminel for himself!

2. The Trial

Auriol, King of the Mouse-Kind, was on trial for his life. The Hall of the Great Fortress was packed with spectators. Drawn by malice, pity, or plain curiosity, they had trudged up the hill as darkness fell to witness this trial and to hear the expected sentence: death.

The King crouched on a low stool in the centre of the Hall. He was guarded by two of Cambray’s most savage mice, who picked their claws with their daggers and puffed tobacco smoke over their prisoner.

To one side, sat the Jury. Cardinal Rumont had chosen them well: sleek, hard-faced mice who had made money by selling weapons to the rebels. At the far end, Cardinal Rumont and General Cambray sat on their thrones. Rumont wore his best purple robe with the Great Star glittering at his breast. He carefully angled his paws so that the flaring torchlight sparkled on his diamond and emerald rings. Outwardly, he was calm: but inside, he was seething with hatred.

Cambray! That coarse, vulgar peasant! What did he know of the finer things of life? All he ever ate was black bread and hard cheese, with warm beer to wash the disgusting mixture down! But he liked power. Already, to Rumont’s dismay, he had demanded an equal share; and the Cardinal knew that Cambray would not rest until he had it all.

Rumont scowled. Share power with that common lout? Never! But where was the Crown? Auriol swore that he had lost it in the confusion of battle, and Rumont had never known his brother to lie.

Cambray must have it! Already a plan was forming in the Cardinal’s treacherous brain. A plan so simple in its brilliance that it would ensure Cambray’s downfall and, with any luck, his death. Everything depended on finding the right mouse. Rumont had spies everywhere, and if certain rumours about Gideon, the Eagle Warrior, were true, he might not have long to wait.

His thoughts were interrupted as the lawyer rose to speak. His name was Spyker, a tall, spindly mouse with a grasping, greedy brain. So far, he had hurled abuse, thinly disguised as evidence, at the prisoner. But now he began to call witnesses to prove his case. This was: that King Auriol had broken his sacred Coronation Oath, and set himself up as a tyrant, and that he was therefore entirely responsible for the recent, cruel Civil War.

All the witnesses said much the same thing: how they had been forced to fight in the King’s army, or how they had seen the King slaughtering innocent mice with his own hand, or how their children had been carried off into slavery by the King’s wicked soldiers. Most of the witnesses were half-drunk already on the fat bribes they’d received for telling their lies. The Cardinal yawned, and glanced down the Hall at his brother.

What a pathetic sight, thought Rumont. Hunched up, eyes closed, fur dropping out ... He’s obviously ill, and probably dying. Just as well, thought the Cardinal, as I do not want the worry and expense of keeping him in jail. Nor do I wish to have him executed. After all, he is my brother.

Rumont turned his attention back to the lawyer.

‘And so we have seen beyond all doubt,’ yelled Spyker, ‘how this Mouse of Blood, this so-called King, whose first care should have been the