further incarceration so that he would stop meddling in their affairs. He would only get them all into deeper trouble with the cats in the end; it was better to just leave things the way they were.
His three most loyal supporters – Piggles, Cociel, and Tails – all positioned themselves outside the Palace, eager to await the outcome. This time, however, there was someone else with them. Davetil. Up until that moment, he had been skeptical and critical of Mr. Byrd’s campaign but now, with the trial, he had become a little more intrigued. His own dear wife had never had a chance at such a trial, and he was interested to see what happened. Was it possible that this could mark the beginning of a change in the Reservation? He was loathe to accept it, reluctant to get his hopes up too high, but still, he just couldn’t keep away, and he knew how much it meant to his young son.
“You should wear one of these, Mr. Davetil,” said Piggles cheerfully, slapping a ‘Vote Mr. Byrd’ sticker onto his chest.
Davetil blushed and looked about him, embarrassed. He clapped a hand over the sticker and hid it. “What if someone sees? Besides, I’m not entirely sure I will be voting for Mr Byrd.”
“Of course you will, Dad,” said Cociel. “He’s literally, our only chance against the cats. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for all our lives.”
“Your enthusiasm can be infectious sometimes,” Davetil admitted.
“See, there you go.” laughed Cociel. “You’re halfway there already.”
“But we don’t even know if Mr. Byrd is going to get released yet,” his father argued back. “I remember the last time we had a trial here. It didn’t exactly go well.”
“But maybe they deserved it,” shrugged Cociel. “Not everybody in those dungeons is innocent, you know. There are some who should actually be there.”
“Yes, of course,” said Davetil. “Well…we’ll see. How about this for a deal, though? If Mr. Byrd is released as a result of this trial… I will vote for him.”
“I knew you’d come round eventually,” cried Cociel, flinging his arms around his father’s neck and hugging him and, as it happened, Davetil had no cause to go back on his words. Half an hour later, the gates to the Palace were opened, and Mr. Byrd flew out a free man.
It would appear that Piggles’ questions to Tilde about search warrants had not been entirely wasted. Nine Lives had asked the very same question, and Whiska and his men had failed to present any such warrant. Therefore, the evidence of the books and the notes was entirely inadmissible in court and the case was thrown out immediately. Mr. Byrd was set free at the discretion of the King.
The celebrations were numerous.
As the five of them triumphantly walked back to the Campaign Headquarters together – now a unified group of Piggles, Cociel, Tails, Davetil and Mr. Byrd – many mice they passed whooped and cheered and hollered.
“Congratulations, Mr. Byrd!” they shouted.
“You can count on our vote, Mr Byrd!”
“Well done, Mr. Byrd!”
“Vote for freedom!”
“We believe in you!”
“Beat the cats for us, please!”
It was a glorious and wonderful moment, one that Cociel would always remember for the rest of his life, and one that was very nearly spoiled altogether by the arrival of Grady.
From nowhere, the vicious cat appeared, snarling and angry at the result. He hissed at Mr. Byrd’s supporters and, without warning, bent down and caught one of them between his teeth, holding his tail and raising him up into the air.
“Help! Help!” the poor mouse squeaked, terrified.
The other mice fled in all different directions, fearful that they would be next on the menu, as Grady tossed the mouse back and forth in his mouth, playing with him like a ragdoll before carelessly hurling him away. He went flying through the air and landed with a thud into one of the houses.
Piggles rushed over to his aid. “Are you alright?”
The middle aged
His three most loyal supporters – Piggles, Cociel, and Tails – all positioned themselves outside the Palace, eager to await the outcome. This time, however, there was someone else with them. Davetil. Up until that moment, he had been skeptical and critical of Mr. Byrd’s campaign but now, with the trial, he had become a little more intrigued. His own dear wife had never had a chance at such a trial, and he was interested to see what happened. Was it possible that this could mark the beginning of a change in the Reservation? He was loathe to accept it, reluctant to get his hopes up too high, but still, he just couldn’t keep away, and he knew how much it meant to his young son.
“You should wear one of these, Mr. Davetil,” said Piggles cheerfully, slapping a ‘Vote Mr. Byrd’ sticker onto his chest.
Davetil blushed and looked about him, embarrassed. He clapped a hand over the sticker and hid it. “What if someone sees? Besides, I’m not entirely sure I will be voting for Mr Byrd.”
“Of course you will, Dad,” said Cociel. “He’s literally, our only chance against the cats. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for all our lives.”
“Your enthusiasm can be infectious sometimes,” Davetil admitted.
“See, there you go.” laughed Cociel. “You’re halfway there already.”
“But we don’t even know if Mr. Byrd is going to get released yet,” his father argued back. “I remember the last time we had a trial here. It didn’t exactly go well.”
“But maybe they deserved it,” shrugged Cociel. “Not everybody in those dungeons is innocent, you know. There are some who should actually be there.”
“Yes, of course,” said Davetil. “Well…we’ll see. How about this for a deal, though? If Mr. Byrd is released as a result of this trial… I will vote for him.”
“I knew you’d come round eventually,” cried Cociel, flinging his arms around his father’s neck and hugging him and, as it happened, Davetil had no cause to go back on his words. Half an hour later, the gates to the Palace were opened, and Mr. Byrd flew out a free man.
It would appear that Piggles’ questions to Tilde about search warrants had not been entirely wasted. Nine Lives had asked the very same question, and Whiska and his men had failed to present any such warrant. Therefore, the evidence of the books and the notes was entirely inadmissible in court and the case was thrown out immediately. Mr. Byrd was set free at the discretion of the King.
The celebrations were numerous.
As the five of them triumphantly walked back to the Campaign Headquarters together – now a unified group of Piggles, Cociel, Tails, Davetil and Mr. Byrd – many mice they passed whooped and cheered and hollered.
“Congratulations, Mr. Byrd!” they shouted.
“You can count on our vote, Mr Byrd!”
“Well done, Mr. Byrd!”
“Vote for freedom!”
“We believe in you!”
“Beat the cats for us, please!”
It was a glorious and wonderful moment, one that Cociel would always remember for the rest of his life, and one that was very nearly spoiled altogether by the arrival of Grady.
From nowhere, the vicious cat appeared, snarling and angry at the result. He hissed at Mr. Byrd’s supporters and, without warning, bent down and caught one of them between his teeth, holding his tail and raising him up into the air.
“Help! Help!” the poor mouse squeaked, terrified.
The other mice fled in all different directions, fearful that they would be next on the menu, as Grady tossed the mouse back and forth in his mouth, playing with him like a ragdoll before carelessly hurling him away. He went flying through the air and landed with a thud into one of the houses.
Piggles rushed over to his aid. “Are you alright?”
The middle aged
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