Each Man a Martyr in his Way (Peter)

[Substitute Author]

"How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?"

Of course, Peter had heard the whisperings. Of course, icy thrills of excitement and dread chased themselves in ripples through his soul at the thought of escape.

But when, from nowhere, fire broke loose ? when, suddenly, the skies were filled with a haze of smoke and dust, and friend and foe became nothing more than fearsome shadows ? when his sensitive ears resounded with a cacophony of unearthly cries and screams ? then all thoughts and plans shattered into shards inside his head.

The dam is breaking, the slaves awaking and what is to become of me? Help ? oh, won?t someone help? Escape! Run! Where? Help!

Struggling upright, stiff and unsteady from an age of being chained, Peter slipped his wasted wrists from his shackles and began to run away from the noise that hounded him, forgetting about everyone else, simply towards the light and the promise of safety.

Help me, oh help. If only I?d never come here. Oh my darling, I ?

The butt of a stave swung out of the blinding smoke and struck Peter in the leg. Tumbling to the ground, he felt the pain rip from his mouth in an endless, shapeless scream, dragging with it all the notes he?d ever sung, all the love he?d forgotten about in the months he was at sea, all the suffering he?d endured under the slave-driver?s whip ?

Two stout arms and a kindly face interrupted his agony. Unable to stand, and hardly to think, Peter felt himself dragged to his feet, and they were off across the courtyard, his saviour chuntering under his breath and heaving the rabbit upwards every second step. For a moment, as the smoke thinned and the haze receded from Peter?s eyes, he dared to allow himself to hope. Then the rock rose up to meet his foot, and all was lost.

Above his head, he heard voices and the clash of weapons. The ground shook as a body fell beside him. Moments later, another shake, another body. Peter raised himself onto his forepaws with difficulty, and saw that one of the fallen was the vole who had stopped to save him.

I?ll cry for you someday.

Dragging himself away from the scene needed every inch of strength the rabbit had. Then another voice, honeysweet and deadly, took even that away from him.

?And where do you think you?re going, rabbit??

Isaac.

He felt a cold metal kiss at his throat. ?The vole is just over there ... ? He closed his eyes. It was his turn to sacrifice himself so his companion could live. ?What makes you think I would need two of you, if I have one? If I were you, I would stop struggling.?

Already still, Peter let a heavenly calm sweep into his bones, and drive out the last of his fear.

Elegant skirts and frightful masks twirled in and out, in and out, round and round, spinning in an eternal, ceaseless dance. The fiddlers picked up, straining for higher notes on their violins, and the dance reached fever pitch, woodlanders becoming dervishes, beasts becoming demons, round and round and round they went.

Isaac was resplendent in coat-tails and a mask bedecked with real hawk feathers and jewels from across the seas. His lady wore red, billowing red, sequins ... Their eyes met as Peter swung his own partner around.

Then the hawk took wings and flew into the distance, and the violins screeched and screamed like tortured beasts, and all the guests swept swords from their coats and skirts and set upon each other like barbarians, and Lord Jeremiah stood on the stage and presided over it all with a benevolent smile, and Peter picked up his own lute, but it was the body of a dead vole, and he cradled it in his arms and wept.

?I will hold you responsible for this mess,? said Lord Jeremiah, his voice strange and honeysweet. Peter continued to weep. Then the hawk swept down, and grasped Peter by the scruff in its talons, lifting him into the air.

?This one will suit,? said a gruff male voice, and let Peter fall to the earth again. Suddenly, he became aware of his bound paws and his thundering head. Staring up from the ground, he could make out the figures of that hated marten captain, and another, a weasel, stood beside him ? although their edges flickered and faded, like tattered flags blowing in the wind.

?Are you sure he?ll be able to help you find my daughter? He hardly looks healthy, and I?d rather you took beasts that weren?t going to die on you.?

Peter could hear the sneer in the weasel?s voice as he replied. ?Don?t worry, Jonas. Your daughter will be found. I?ll take the rabbit.?