Most of the rooks had fallen asleep by the time Arthur and Lily had reached the edge of the forest, but the clamor in Titus’ heart and mind made even the familiar orange glow of the Rookery’s candlelit atrium seem glaring and oppressive. He tried to roost in his family’s tree—an especially old oak tree that had been inhabited by the ruling family for nearly a century—but his nest seemed too small, its carefully woven twigs and bits of string and hay poking him mercilessly from below. Even the gentle creaking of the ancient limbs that had once been his favorite lullaby tested his already worn nerves.
Titus couldn’t sleep. He had hoped to hold a counsel about the hawk attack with the rooks that very night. But the commotion caused by the human had delayed his arrival at the Rookery until the rooks had already begun to settle in for the night. Besides, he still didn’t know just what to tell his friends.
They wouldn’t believe that he had seen the spade—he would have to show them. Even then, would they understand it? He knew that it was best to wait until the morning to bring up such difficult subjects. He tossed. And he turned. And he tried to sleep, but sleep evaded him time and time again, and since Titus couldn’t sleep, soon enough the whole of the Rookery couldn’t sleep.
“Will you quit your moaning!” Romulus squawked over the edge of his roost.
“Pipe down!” came half-asleep groans from around the room.
“Sorry everyone…sorry,” Titus said, turning over again. But sleep wouldn’t come. So he stood up in his nest, shook the hay from his feathers, and glided to the Rookery floor, landing just beside Arthur’s piano. He looked at the tiny instrument—a wonderful work of art and craftsmanship—and couldn’t believe that it had only been a few months since the mouse had first arrived at the Rookery.
“I still haven’t properly thanked you,” Titus heard Arthur say before he saw him. The mouse had crept up silently, as mice who are in moderate danger of being eaten tend to do.
“There you are, Arthur! No, of course you have. You’ve thanked us all with your music,” Titus spoke softly, hoping to keep the other rooks from waking again. “You don’t know what it was like…before.”
“I can imagine life without music,” Arthur smiled, “but I don’t like to.”
The mouse looked at Titus, and his smile faded into a look of concern. “Trouble sleeping, Titus?”
“Yes, just a bit of trouble…”
“You saw the spade this afternoon,” Arthur ventured.
Titus nodded. “What do we do? The rooks will be terrified. They may revolt! Romulus will never—“ he began.
“Don’t worry about Romulus,” Arthur interrupted. He’ll come around. Some animals just need a little more prodding than others before they begin to see things as they really are. Right now, we need to talk about your little encounter on the moor.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Titus admitted.
“And yet, you must know how important it is. I’ve always thought you the wisest of your kind, Titus.”
“Thank you Arthur.” “Are you all right?” Arthur asked, looking sincerely at his friend.
“Yes, thank you. A little stiff, but he didn’t hurt me too much. I was more surprised than anything. And then that horrid child…ugh! How embarrassing!” he sniffed.
“Now, Titus,” Arthur scolded, “she injured your pride. That much is clear. But think of the alternative, friend. She was your guardian angel today, and you would do well to remember your manners.”
“She should remember hers! She is a rude, pushy, manipulative, uncouth creature and I will have nothing to do with her!”
“Because she didn’t like your story?”
Titus looked away, sighing indignantly.
Arthur snickered softly.
“Well, I’m afraid you won’t be able to avoid Lily forever, whether you like it or not. I’ve invited her to tea tomorrow.”
“What? To tea? How could you! Tea is…is…sacred, Arthur!”
“I did it for her, my friend. For the same reasons you invited her to come to the Rookery in the first place.”
Titus was silent for several very long moments, then he dropped his eyes and clasped his wings repentantly.
“As you said, Titus, she is only a child,” Arthur smiled. “She needs time to grow. And she needs to be safe.”
“Especially now,” Titus sighed.
“Tomorrow is an important day. Much to do. Perhaps we should get some sleep,” Arthur said, and he whistled a few notes of a lullaby he had learned as a child—just enough notes to plant the lullaby in Titus’ mind.
“Yes, let’s,” Titus yawned. “Goodnight, Arthur.”
“Goodnight,” Arthur whispered back as Titus flew lazily up to his roost, humming quietly under his breath. He fell asleep in seconds and the Rookery was silent.
No comments:
Post a Comment