Mistoffelees set up a place for training in the hideout. He said that it was only temporary, until he had found another place to call his own. He had his eyes on something closer to the Jellicle junkyard, but he wouldn't tell Pouncival what it was just yet. It was going to be a surprise, he said.
When Pouncival came to the hideout the day after Tumblebrutus had gotten injured, he found the hideout being filled with pillows, and the upper half of a human mannequin doll in a corner. The walls were covered with mattresses, and the boxes that had been used as table and cupboards stood piled up next to a wall, unused.
On one of the boxes sat Mistoffelees. He was looking into the remains of his broken scrying mirror, with a troubled look on his pale face. When Pouncival entered, he looked up.
"Ah, hello, Pounce," he said. "Think fast!"
Before Pouncival could react, a ball of magical energy soared through the air. He grimaced as it hit him in the chest, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. Automatically he bend backwards, allowing for the ball to pass him over and hit the opposite wall, where it shattered into small glowing pieces of lightning.
"Not bad," said Mistoffelees and nodded approvingly. "Your reflexes need some work, but at least you know what to do in a crisis. Come on. Let's see what you can do."
He jumped down from the box and padded over to the mannequin. Up close, Pouncival could see that it was welded into the floor.
"This is how this works," said Mistoffelees calmly. "I say the name of a body part, and you'll hit it. Plain and simple. You hit it however you'd like, kick or punch, it doesn't matter. Just cause it maximum injury. Can you do that?"
"Shouldn't be a problem."
"Good. Head!"
Pouncival's paw shot out at the mannequin, hitting it on the chin. The head bent backwards for a moment, and then it flipped back.
"Belly!"
He whipped around, jumped, swung out his legs, and kicked the mannequin in the stomach. The entire dummy shook from the impact.
They kept doing this for about half an hour, Mistoffelees shouting orders and Pouncival carrying them out. Then they went over to train reflexes, in which Mistoffelees threw out small, stinging lighting bolts that Pouncival had to dodge. After an hour of that, Pouncival collapsed on the floor.
"Can we call it a day?" he pleaded. "I'm wiped."
"Sissy," said Mistoffelees, but then he gave in. "All right, fine. For a first pass, it's quite good."
"Is this what you had to do when you began to learn how to control your powers?"
"Something like it. I just had to use magic instead of muscle to do it. It's basically the same principle."
Mistoffelees shrugged and sat down on the floor next to Pouncival. He looked rather tired himself. Using too much magic in one day must exhaust him.
"How is your brother feeling?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"He's resting. Jenny and Jelly said that's the only thing that can make him well again. They say he'll be fine, but he should take it easy now. They gave me a long speech about not playing rough with him anymore. I went to speak with him this morning, before I came to you. He wanted to know where I'd learned how to kick like that."
"Did you tell him?"
"Of course I didn't tell him! I promised, didn't I?" Pouncival shot him a glare. "I said that I'd heard him sneak up on me, and I just happened to get a perfect hit, sorta speak. I suppose he believed me."
"Good."
Pouncival was quiet for a moment, and then he said: "I'll need a new name."
"Three aren't enough for you?" asked Mistoffelees with a bemused smile.
"You know what I mean. Not just any other name. An alter ego. Someone that I can be when I'm this new person, and then I can be Pouncival with my family and friends."
"I understand. Well... I might be able to get something for you. I remember reading that you could alter your appearance using some sort of mark on your body... I could look it up. In the meantime, you think of a new name for yourself."
"I'll do that."
She was a beautiful dog, the Pollicle lady, and she had beautiful puppies. They had some golden retriever in them, and it reflected in their light fur. They were playing now not far away, and she kept an ever-watchful eye on them to make sure they didn't go too far. She was lying in an old barrel, which provided shelter from the dogcatchers that came from time to time, and gave shade from the sun on scorching summer days. It was the perfect place to raise her puppies. Of course King had seen to it. He was her mate, and the father of her puppies. Not only that, but he was the leader of the Pollicles, and she was his favourite.
Now he was out scouting the neighbourhood for more of those horrible Pekes, and perhaps even see if he could get the Pugs and the Poms over to his side. No, to their side. The Pekes were intruders, heathen dogs from faraway, and they had no place in London at all. It was strange, the way the Pollicles hadn't seen that before.
Queen, for that was the name of the Pollicle lady, yawned lazily. It was a wonderful day, and she was quite in the mood for a little nap, when suddenly a sound was heard. It was a whine, shrill and pleading, and it made her jolt awake instantly. She sat up in the barrel, her beautiful dark eyes wandering to the only entrance to the yard, the northern alley.
There, in-between his two trusted lieutenants, staggered King, and he was in pain. He had several bite-marks in his throat and side that left stains of blood on the asphalt as he walked, and his left hind leg seemed broken, as he couldn't walk on it. His eyes, his wonderful eyes that had made Queen fall in love with him, looked at her from a face that was no more than a mess of cuts and patches where fur had been torn out.
"Into the barrel, my darlings!" Queen barked at her puppies as she left it herself. "Playtime's over, come on!"
She heard their complaints as a buzzing in her ears, but they soon silenced as they saw their father's injuries. Queen ran up to him, wanting to relieve him of his pain with her love.
"What happened?" she demanded to know of his lieutenants.
Knight, the oldest of the two, answered. "Pekes." His voice was low with anger. "They came... There must have been at least a dozen of them."
Now she saw that Knight and Dub were hurt as well, although none of them as badly as King.
"They were after him," said Dub hoarsely. "They didn't even bother with us... Pilot tried to stop them, and four of them went after him... I don't think he made it."
Queen's legs were suddenly so weak that she had to sit down. Her face showed no emotions, her eyes were blank. A wave of nausea came over her as she saw her mate's wounds, and she knew she couldn't heal them. She didn't know of anyone who could, either. She was completely lost, and her King was going to die. She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes fell upon her puppies.
There were three of them. When she had carried them she had felt four in her womb, but one had been too weak at birth and hadn't lasted long. She still remembered the feeling of helplessness she'd had as she'd looked down at the fragile little body and known that she could do nothing to save it. She had the same feeling now.
Queen sat with King until his breath slowed and he passed to the other side. She noticed with relief that his face was calm as he died, that he didn't suffer anymore. Good. That was at least something to be grateful for. When she was certain that he was gone, she looked up at Knight and Dub.
"Gather the pack," she said, and her voice was like ice and lead. "We have work to do. We need everybody here. Tonight."
Knight and Dub nodded and bowed their heads. "Yes, Queen," they chorused. "You are the leader now." 'I am, aren't I?' thought Queen.
Munkustrap looked at the two cats in front of him. They were one male and one female, both calico, and they looked very nervous about standing before him like this.
"You said you wanted to see me?" asked Munkustrap politely. "How can I help you?"
"Well," said the tom, and the grey tabby noticed a distinct cockney accent. "I'm Mungojerrie, an' this is my sister, Rumpleteazer. We were sorta hopin' we'd get to speak with you, 'cause, see, we're sorta... Well, we were sorta workin' for Macavity, before, an'..." He stopped talking, clearly quite embarrassed.
Munkustrap raised an eyebrow. "You were working for Macavity?" he repeated.
"Yeah, you know, stealin' stuff an' stuff," said Rumpleteazer helpfully. "Shiny things, mostly. He wants the Lady to have pretty things, see, an' she likes them a lot, so he says that we has to take 'em."
"I see..." Munkustrap looked at them, urging them to continue.
Mungojerrie spoke again. "So, well, one day we thought that we didn't much like to take everything he told us to take, 'cause there was this little human girl who got her heart pendant taken away from her, and she started cryin' an' sobbin', an' the Lady thought it was fun an' wouldn' give the girl back the pendant, an' we thought it was... well, it wasn't very nice, was it?"
Rumpleteazer shook her head so hard that she almost lost her balance. "No, 'cause we knew that little girl, an' she was always very nice to us when we was kittens, an' she used to set out milk for us an' everythin', an' that pendant was a gift from her dead granny, an'..."
Munkustrap sighed. "Please get to the point."
"Right," said Mungojerrie and took a deep breath. "Sorry 'bout that. Here's the thing, sir, we don' wanna be a part of that anymore. Maybe it's fine to take things from rich people, 'cause they have so much, but takin' somethin' from a nice little girl who never done nothin', that can't be right. So we came here. 'Cause we figured that you could help us."
"Can you?" asked Rumpleteazer hopefully.
Munkustrap took some time to think it through. "I might," he said finally. "You would have to talk to my father, Old Deuteronomy. He is the real leader of the tribe, and he can tell you whether or not you'd be allowed to stay here. You'd have to become Jellicles of course..." He smiled a little, for the first time since the siblings had entered his domain. "For now there is no reason for you not to stay at the junkyard. You may consider yourselves guests here until my father comes back, which should be any day now. He's on a small outing with my mother now, you see."
"Ohh, thank you, sir!" beamed Rumpleteazer. "We really appreciate this. You won't regret it for even a little bit!"
"I hope not." Munkustrap nodded at them, indicating that they were free to go.
Perhaps if he had heard the whispered conversation between the siblings as they left the Jellicle tire, he would have thought through his decision in letting them stay for a while longer.
"Where didja get the idea of that little girl, Jerr?" hissed Rumpleteazer, her eyes darting back to Munkustrap. "We had discussed this before! You were supposed ta stick to the story we made up!"
"I figured this one would make 'im feel sorry for us," her brother answered in a low voice. "Mac said that Jellicles were a sensitive bunch, didn' 'e?"
Rumpleteazer paused. "I s'pose you're right. The faster we can become a part of the tribe, the better. I don' like being here one bit. We shouldn't be spies, should we, Jerr? We're thieves, nothin' else. Why did Mac have to pick us anyways?"
"'Cause we're basic'lly the only cats in his court that the Jellicles don' know about," said Mungojerrie calmly. "And two siblings are very unsuspicious, right? We wouldn' hurt a fly, would we?"
"'Course not. We... we're not supposed to hurt anybody, are we?" Rumpleteazer didn't like the idea of having to kill somebody.
Mungojerrie shook his head. "Mac said we wouldn' hafta do that. We should just report everythin' that happens to him and lay low. Killing cats does not translate as lyin' low. So don' worry, sis. We'll be fine." He smiled and nuzzled his sister gently. "We'll be just fine."
It was the same evening, and Queen looked over the pack of dogs that had gathered with pleased eyes. She nodded contentedly.
"I am glad that so many of you have come to honour my King," she said, her voice ringing loud and clear over the yard. "I know that he would feel proud to see you all here tonight. The reason I gathered you is that we all know that King was taken away from us too soon. He was a strong Pollicle, he would have lasted years yet. He was brutally stolen away from all of us by the intruders, by the filth that has taken over our beloved London. I am talking about the Pekes."
Several of the gathered dogs growled loudly, and a few ladies burst out crying at the thought of their leader's early demise. This was the reaction that Queen had hoped for. She spoke again.
"The Pekes came here, and they stole everything from us! Our humans, our homes, our food! We have been driven from our warm, comfortable lives, out unto the cold street! Shall we continue to take this?"
"No!" barked the dogs, and a scabby Pug added: "The Pekes stole my family! If it hadn't been for them, I'd still be living with my humans, and not eat from the garbage cans!"
"A gang of Pekes attacked us on the way over here and stole our tribute to the great leader Queen!" shouted a very fat beagle.
"They chased my mate of out town, and he hasn't come back to me!"
"A shame to our fine home!"
"A threat to our pups!"
"My friends, I agree!" shouted Queen. "But you know we must be civil about this! We cannot chase them out one by one, for where one disappears five others take its place! We must show them, once and for all, that we are stronger, and that our ranks will not give them a moments peace until they leave for good!"
"Are you talking about war, my lady?" asked a white poodle and tilted her head.
Queen recognized her. She was the leader of the Pom tribe, the most posh of all the Pollicle tribes, and also the most comfortable. All Poms had humans taking care of them, and were often spoiled rotten. The Pollicles and the Pugs often envied the Poms for their life of luxury, but they would die rather than admitting it.
"I am talking about justice, Pom!" snarled Queen. "Aren't the Pekes the reason for all our unhappiness? They killed your leader!"
The poodle sniffed. "Yes, well, but isn't it true that Pollicles have set out orders for the assassination of hundreds of Pekes as well? They have reason to be angry, that's the way I see it."
A few dogs hesitated for a moment, and their faces turned to Queen, hoping that their leader would have something to say. The Pollicles were after all the largest of the four major dog tribes of London.
"If you are too cowardly to fight for what is right, Pom, then there is nobody forcing you to stay here," growled Queen and bared her teeth. "You may leave at any time, go back to your loving family to get your teeth brushed and your claws cut."
"The Poms do not like fighting," drawled the poodle, shrugging off the insult. "And even less so when it is a pointless war. If I send my troops into battle, I want to know what they'll be dying for."
"We are fighting for King! He had a vision, and we're going to live up to it!"
"King was a fool, too shackled by his own prejudice and fears to see any other way out of this mess than fighting! You cannot be serious in trying to be a leader like him! He ordered the killing of that Peke family in Soho, and you can't say that was the right thing to do, Queen! They were puppies..."
"In war, everything is fair," snapped Queen. "If you do not like it, then leave, before I rip you to shreds!"
The poodle's lips parted, revealing two rows of small, sharp teeth. "Very well, Queen. You shall have your way. My tribe shall happily watch your fall."
She said nothing else, but turned her back and left, with an annoying composure. A few of her tribesdogs followed her, but the rest of the pack stayed, including the leader of the Pugs. She was happy to see him stay. Pugs were not fonder of fighting than Poms, but they were strong and sturdy to have on your side.
Queen looked at her faithful ones and smiled. "There shall be one last stand!" she barked. "One battle to end all battles! One shall win, and one shall lose, and we shall stand victorious! There will be ballads written about this battle, your puppies will hear the legend told through generations, and this day will live forever! The awful battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles!"
And then a few hoarse voices started singing in the background, in broad Scottish dialects:
March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale
Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order?
March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale
All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border...
Queen closed her eyes and listened. She was shaking all over, and she didn't know if it was due to the Poms's betrayal, or King's death, or excitement over the impending battle. She needed to go back to her barrel and nurse her puppies, so she left the singing pack, ordered Knight and Dub to stand guard, and went inside.
There they lay, the remains of her family, curled up close to each other for warmth in the cool evening. Their heads turned to her as she entered, and her elder yawned. She lay down beside them, allowing them to drink from her.
"I'll protect you," she whispered. "Your father might have failed, but I'll stay with you and keep you safe. I promise."
She gave them each an affectionate lick on the head, and then she yawned herself. Slowly Queen allowed herself to doze off, the marching song of the Pollicles lulling her to sleep.
England shall many a day
Tell of the bloody fray
When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border...
