Leyland breathed again. The raps, the huge birds of prey who guarded the bridge, had taken an age in scrutinising his papers before stamping his paw. Only once every two years, when the cricket festival was played in Sandbourne, were ordinary buns likely to be allowed to cross the Haven. The restrictions had become ever tighter in recent years, though, and all Oakwood buns now had to have an indelible stamp on their paws at all times when over the bridge, on pain of... well, that was unspecified, except in whispered rumours in Oakwood's alleyways, but furs knew better than to find out for certain.
As the queue grew behind him, the hum of conversation coming from his fellow buns had taken on a slight but noticeable edge of annoyance. This had not been helped by the small knot of OBs who had decided to barge through in front of them: it would have been foolhardy indeed to have shown any open defiance, but Leyland was a rather less dangerous target for their irritation. There was no real anger towards him, however, as the buns were proud of his position as the only bun in Oakwood's cricket team. It was strange in a way, he reflected, that he had not been dropped. But who knew what went on in the minds of vulps?
Leyland was confused, however. He had been startled to read in the Chronicle that morning that this year's addition to the Book of Treaties was to be very different from anything he could remember. Indeed, assuming the paper's report was accurate, it went against everything he knew about Queen Hyra. It scarcely seemed credible that such a sharp-witted fel would have allowed Selim and Wharton to get the better of her, but try as he might Leyland could come to no other conclusion. It seemed an extraordinary concession to have made... but no, he must keep politics out of his mind for once and concentrate on his cricket.
Because of the huge delays on the bridge when the Festival was held in Sandbourne, there was still plenty of time before the match started, and the visiting furs made the most of it. Around Catchems End, the large grassy space in front of the Palace, a buzz of excitement filled the air and there was the feel of a carnival about it, the air ringing with the cries of stall-holders and the thump of drums.
The stalls were a beguiling mixture of the commonplace and the exotic. To one side Leyland recognised the familiar sight - and beguiling smells - of Avon's Bakery, and made a mental note to call in there during the tea interval. Earlier the eponymous stag had been entertaining the crowds with some virtuoso lute recitals, but judging by the queues that had already built up at his stall, he would have little time for music from here on in!
A few yards further on, an unmistakable voice was working the crowd at his gaming stall, Wolff's World of Wonders. Leyland couldn't help smiling to himself as he recalled the chocolate-brown ferret's amazing ability to persuade the crowds to hand over their money for the dubious privilege of being relieved of even more of it. Of course, in theory it was possible to beat the game and win the big prizes, but somehow it seemed so much harder under the brazen emerald gaze of the stall's flame-headed owner.
Beyond the stalls, a space had been cleared for the many performing artists who had visited the Festival. Leyland's eye was caught by a tremendous display of dancing being given by a kilted ground squirrel behind a placard proclaiming his name as Felka Conjoi. As he danced, his striking necklaces and bracelets danced too, becoming one with him, and he became a wild whirl of brown, cream and russet-red. There was quite a crowd here, too, and Leyland watched for some while before turning away.
Leyland mentally compared the scene with the far more sullen atmosphere he had experienced at the OB's trial and execution, and sighed inwardly. He was not left alone with his thoughts for long, however.
A soft paw clapped him on the shoulder. "Long time no see!"
Leyland turned, and his face broke into a wide grin. "Tani! It's been so long... are we safe talking here?"
The tall doe nodded. "It's loud enough; should be fine. I've got Nayla keeping an eye out just in case... you remember Nayla?"
"Oh yes, of course. And you two... are you...?"
"We are!" beamed Tani. "You see the temple just on the corner there? We had the ceremony there, though of course we had to do what Nayla likes to call the 'Lep stuff' at home as there's no formal setup where that's concerned on this side of the river. But yes, everything's wonderful and we're so happy." She paused, then blinked. "Hey, I read in the paper the other day that Slime and Wharton want to bring your lot in line with this. Is that really true?" Leyland only just resisted remarking that Oakwood's rulers generally wanted to bring everybody in line, but confined himself to a simple nod.
"Oh, isn't that great? I know, Slime's probably got some bizarre ulterior motive, but still... it's just a shame that it didn't happen years ago, so you and Cl-"
She stopped abruptly as she noticed the buck's suddenly fixed expression. "Oh Ley, I'm really sorry. I just didn't think-"
Leyland managed a very weak smile. "Don't worry, Tan, I know you didn't mean to. It's just... imagine how it is for me, trying to keep myself going, yet living in a town where I hear... that day in, day out from the bloody OBs, and can never ever answer them back. I had one do it to me just the other day, just before murdering a chev, and it was all in a day's work for him. That was the one who got hanged – Lep knows what's going on there, and I suppose I ought to be happy he's gone, but... oh, I don't know..."
He trailed off, and Tani gave him a hug. "Clay's not forgotten, Ley, and never will be as long as I'm alive. Come on. You need to be getting ready soon, but let's go and get some chips first."
* * *
There was a tradition that had grown up with the Festival that those participating in the match – as players or officials – should not enter the field of play until they had walked around its entire circumference. The origins of the tradition had long since been forgotten, but it was nevertheless maintained on both sides of the river. Hyra and Wharton, as the umpires for the game, had both performed the walk, Hyra in particular taking considerable care to stay as far from Wharton as she could.
"Ah, there you are, ump!" yelled the Queen, somewhat unregally, as Lord Wharton reached his position at last. "Glad to see you're observing local customs and all that. I hope we're not going to see any dodgy decisions when we get going, eh?" She grinned at his expression of annoyance.
"I shall, of course, remain disinterested at all times," responded the Bailiff, bristling.
Hyra grinned again, even wider. "Ah, they all say that. Let's just hope you're not as uninterested as that time you fell asleep at the tea interval!"
Wharton's jaw set, and his voice was thin and cold. "Might I suggest, with the greatest of humility, that it is in fact you, as the home-town umpire, whose neutrality ought to come under the more scrutiny here?"
"No, you certainly may not suggest it, unless you want a good clawing. Some of us feel that umpiring is a matter of simple respect for the laws, for the game and for the furs who play it, no matter who they might be. Not one of your fortés, sadly."
Wharton's fury was barely contained, and he was about to speak again when the teams emerged at last from the pavilion, to enormous cheers from all around the ground. Sandbourne, captained by Albi, won the toss and in the humid conditions it was unsurprising that their captain elected to field first. Oakwood's captain was Vann, a tall and slightly fidgety vulp with a slight nick out of the tip of one ear. As he was one of the opening batsmen, he remained in the middle and waited for his partner to join him. Once everyone was in place, Hyra called "Play!" and to more cheering the game began.
* * *
It was an hour later. Leyland took guard from the umpire and settled at the crease before looking up to see Sandbourne's fastest bowler begin his long run-up. He had not expected to come in to bat so soon, but it had been a disastrous performance from the earlier Oakwood batsmen, including – and here he could not help smirking inwardly – Reltan, an OB who had been picked at the expense of a far more talented bun simply because he spent every waking hour sucking up to Lord Selim. (Reltan had played all round a straight one and been bowled for nought.) All this had left the visiting side reeling at the uncomfortable position of 32 for 4, though Vann was still at the crease with Leyland.
At this point Sandbourne made a bowling change, and so it was that Leyland found him facing a short bespectacled husky with a good-natured fluster about her. She was perhaps a little lucky to have made the team, but Hyra, who in the end had the last word on such things, had pointed out that Huskyteer - as she had become known to all on account of her tendency to entertain both spectators and fellow players with her attack-and-be-damned approach to the game - had been playing above herself for some while and deserved her chance. Besides, as Hyra had put it, "It gets right up Slime's nose to see furs enjoying this sort of thing. Let's give him a bit more to whinge about."
Right, thought Leyland. In a bit of a pickle here, aren't we? Time to knuckle down. He played defensively to the first couple of deliveries, then called Vann through for a quick two. Keeping the strike with a single from the last ball of the over, he was looking to see whether Albi would make another bowling change at the other end when there was a great commotion, and two burly OBs marched on to the field towards where Hyra stood. There was jeering from the crowd (though very little from the Oakwood contingent) but Leyland barely noticed. Instead his muzzle became an O of sheer horror as he realised what had happened.
"Your Majesty," one of the OBs in what would have been an obsequious tone had it not been so clearly laced with a jeering distaste. "As you know, the treaty which you graciously agreed should be added to the Book this year gives reciprocal rights of apprehension to our towns' constables and officers during the Festival, even if it be held across the river. These two-" (he indicated his captives with a derisory wave of his paw) "have been overheard wishing harm upon the person of the Bailiff as he officiates here today. Of course you will agree that we cannot overlook so grave an occurrence, and so we have arrested them. Having informed you as required by the treaty, they will now come with us back to Oakwood to face justice."
The OB officer shifted slightly, confirming to Leyland his worst fears. The vulp held a tight grip on two furs: one was a young male vulp whose name he did not know, but as for the other... the other was an utterly terrified Pelona.
The characters of Avon, Wolff, Felka Conjoi and Huskyteer are copyright © their respective players, and are used here by permission.
Copyright © David "Loganberry" Buttery 2004-7. Last updated 15th August 2007.