A geography lesson was in progress by the riverside on the southern edge of town. Leyland liked to get his students out of the cramped, single-storey schoolhouse in Lax Lane as much as he could, and the weather was kind for late March, with warm sunshine and a gentle breeze off the river ruffling the rabbit's silver-grey fur and that of the twenty or so young buns who were standing around him. Coming outside meant having to put up with the contemptuous looks of the Bailiff's officers as they marched to and fro along the quayside, but to Leyland this annoyance was more than worth it when set against the benefits his charges would receive from their more spacious surroundings.
"All right!" he called, clapping his front paws together. "Let's have a bit of hush here, eh? Jan, hand out the maps - you'll have to share, of course, but I'm sure you can manage that. If you can't, you could always give this helpful Constable of the Town half a crown and ask him to nip off to Logan's and get some more for you." Leyland smiled to himself, all the more so when he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the expression of studied disgust on the vulp officer's face. Maybe one day he should take a deep breath and go straight to the top... but no. His pupils came first, last and always, and he would never forgive himself if he gave in to temptation and strayed from that path. He would have to be satisfied with winning small victories where he could.
Eventually all the young furs could more or less see at least part of a map, and Leyland spoke again. "Here we are by the River Haven, the source of Oakwood's wealth. Our town is of course the most populous, most prosperous and most serene of all the settlements in the Haven Valley, and without the river that could never have been. None of us now living remember the days before the railway came, of course, but consider: would the Great Haven Railway Company have built a line here if there had been no inhabitants, no houses, no temples, no trade? Of course not.
"But the mere presence of a railway is not enough. To reap, you first have to sow, and it has been Oakwood's Lord Protectors and Bailiffs, together with the Council, who have made this place what it is today. You only have to look across the water" - he waved a paw extravagantly - "to see what might have happened had things been otherwise. Consider Sandbourne - small, quiet, still ruled by a Queen as though it were a town in some kittens' fairy tale. We could have been like that. It was only the vision of our leaders that has brought Oakwood to where it stands today. Now, who can tell me the current ruler and his title?"
A small bun put up a paw. "Sir?" she ventured querulously. "Sir?"
Leyland smiled down at his pupil. "Yes, Pelona?"
"Lord Selim," said Pelona, still a little uncertainly. "The Lord Protector."
"That's right; well done," said Leyland, but turned away a little as he saw the shadow fall across Pelona's face. He chastised himself mentally for not being more careful, but there was nothing else for it: however one might wish it otherwise, Selim was the most powerful fur Oakwood had seen in a generation, and no lesson in the town's history could be given without reference to him. Besides, he thought, if I can't give these kittens anything else, I can give them knowledge. It's not much, but what else is there for them here? This is all they have. One day they may....
Shaking his head suddenly, Leyland cut off the line of thought before it could go any further, and returned to his theme. "Now then," he said, "as Pelona here says, we are of course ruled by Lord Selim. Before his time, the rulers of this town were known simply as Chieftains, but His Lordship felt that such a word was too old-fashioned and would make people think of savage warlords, which quite reasonably was a prospect that did not appeal to him. So, one of his first acts after assuming the leadership twenty years ago was to introduce the office of Lord Protector. And as things have turned out, it was fitting that Lord Selim brought with him a new title, as without a doubt his period in office has so far proved to be the most extraordinary in living memory. There is no other town like Oakwood, and no other leader like His Lordship; his achievements have certainly been without parallel in all of our town's long history.
"Under the Lord Protector, of course, there is Lord Wharton, our Bailiff. As the fur with particular responsibility for the safety and security of us all, and for making sure that the law is enforced - ah, hello again, Constable! - we naturally have... particular feelings towards him. Who among us can pass his great house on Upper Street without a sense that this vulp is someone out of the ordinary? Of course I have had the honour of discussions with him on several occasions at Council meetings, but I doubt I am the only bun who dreams that one day there might be an opportunity for a more... private meeting."
Leyland bit his lip slightly, betraying the nervousness he was hoping his pupils had not noticed. He was walking a tightrope in a gale, and with every passing day the winds grew stronger. One of these days he would fall, and then what would happen to them all? Should he throw caution to the winds and push as hard as he could, despite his terror of the possible consequences? He glanced down at the crowd of lapine faces below him: Pelona's appearance was back to normal now, but Leyland could not forget what he had seen a few minutes earlier. This is all they have, he thought again. No: he could not risk that. Not here; not now.
He opened his mouth to resume his talk, but at that moment there was a commotion from around the corner as a cart careered along Coles Quay towards them, the chev pulling it galloping with all his might. The small buns shrieked and pressed themselves flat against the wall, Leyland himself making sure he was between them and the horse. With a sigh of relief he realised that the fur and cart would miss them, but almost at once his mood changed to one of utter terror as an arrow shot past the group, almost nicking his ear. "Don't move," he yelled at the kittens, but there was little chance of their going anywhere: every last one of them was paralysed with fear.
The chev and his cart hurtled past and tried to take the bend into Lax Lane, but they had reached such a speed that there was no chance they could make it. With a sickening crunch, the fur slammed side-on into the houses that faced the schoolhouse, the cart following immediately and smashing into a thousand pieces. As wood and metal rained down just a few yards from the school party, Leyland saw a vulp officer approach, bow now across his shoulder and sword drawn. It was not the constable he had been teasing earlier; this fur had a cold, determined look about him, and across the shoulders of his uniform were the four parallel green lines that marked him out as a member of Olive Branch.
"You!" he barked at Leyland. "What are you doing?"
"I'm giving my pupils a geography lesson, sir," said Leyland as evenly and calmly as he could manage. He hated the OBs and all that they stood for - their official name was a sour joke, and like most townsfolk, even many ordinary vulps, he referred to them as "the Yobs" when he was sure it was safe - but this was decidedly not the moment for playing around. He offered up a silent prayer to Lep that none of his pupils would repeat what he had told them earlier; a vulp intelligent enough to get into Olive Branch would certainly realise exactly what he had been doing.
"Really?" sneered the OB. "I'm surprised a bunch of buns can cope with anything so complicated. Considering how many of you end up getting yourselves eaten-" (he grinned at the word, revealing as many of his teeth as he could manage) "-you don't make much of your learning. Though it may just be that your teacher is a well-known idiot. Yes, perhaps that's more like it. He certainly has feet of clay." Leyland winced at the officer's words, and the vulp sniggered nastily, as though to congratulate himself on the subtleness of his humour.
Despite Leyland's frantic signals to his pupils to keep quiet, one of them - Pelona again, inevitably - spoke up. "Officer," she said. "Officer, please, will you do something about that crashed chev and cart?" Indeed, the stricken equine's groans were pitiful to hear, as was the sight of him trying to regain his footing, a task made impossible partly by the wreckage of the cart that lay around, but more by the way one of his legs was bent almost double in the wrong direction. It was very clear that he was not going to be able to get up unaided.
"What a good idea," said the OB evenly. "Perhaps there is some reason for educating buns after all." He strode across to the helpless chev and carefully examined the cart, before straightening up and turning briefly back towards Leyland, seemingly oblivious to the equine's continued agony. "This cart's had it," he said. "It was almost new, as well. Bloody fool. The family will be sent the bill, of course, but we still have to get another cart built. As for this" - he kicked the chev's back dismissively with a metal-capped boot - "it's got a broken leg. Though it seems you're too thick to have noticed."
"Family? Doesn't he have any money of his own?" asked Pelona, and Leyland closed his eyes, trying desperately to stop the tears from welling up. Oh Lep, she doesn't know, the older rabbit thought. Even after everything she's seen in her short life, she still doesn't know. Why her? Why me? Why now? Why here? Why? Just WHY? He bowed his head and attempted to shut out the world, but his sensitive ears easily picked up the OB's footsteps as he walked back over to the chev, and the officer's blunt reply to the young doe.
"Broken leg, I said," snapped the vulp. "Its contribution to the town now won't be in taxes." There was the twang of a bowstring, followed by a brief moment of the sharpest silence in which Leyland could clearly hear the loud purring of a young fel across the river in Sandbourne, happily playing in the garden of her home backing onto the river. Then, from so much closer, the screaming began.
Copyright © David "Loganberry" Buttery 2004-5. Last updated 9th July 2005.