Drill Sergeant Clubrush sat finishing a fine supper of forager’s stew, washed down with some good mountain cider. He wiped his platter with a chunk of ryebread.
‘By the fur’n’feather, that was a better meal than I ever knocked together in my recruit days. Top marks to you’n’ yore crew, young Algador, there’s hope for ye yet!’
As Algador saluted he cast a quick glance to the huge form of Lady Cregga, fast asleep on a pile of groundsheets by the fire. ‘Thanks, Sarge. Will we be movin’ out at dawn?’
Clubrush continued wiping his already clean platter. ‘Y’move when I say, laddie buck, an’ I move when she says. Though the seasons only knows when Lady Cregga’ll waken. She looked fair done in. Thank the fates that she’s normal agin.’
* * *
43
RINKUL WAS FESTERING with hatred for the ragged pair of mystics who had entered the Rapscallion camp. He gathered a dozen of his cronies about him and issued secret orders. ‘Let me know every move that pair make, see. An’ the dumb one, keep a keen eye on ’im, ’specially once it gits dark!’
Tammo managed to give Rinkul’s cronies the slip. He slid off at twilight, while the hillside camp was still teeming with Rapscallions going about the business of cooking, fishing and foraging for supper.
Rockjaw Grang was awaiting his arrival. He fed the young hare from the last of his supplies and passed on the information Taunoc had vouchsafed to him. Getting back was more difficult. Tammo could see Rinkul and his band searching for him as he peered over the hilltop. There was only one thing for it. Keeping bent double, Tammo shuffled into the camp, trying hard to look inconspicuous. He was doing fine until a heavy paw descended upon his shoulder. It belonged to the big, slow-witted rat Lousewort.
‘Er, er, tell me a funny riddle like you tol’ Cap’n Bluggach.’
His companion, Sneezewort, shook his head in disgust. ‘Oh, belt up, seedbrain, that ’un can’t talk – that’s the dumb ’un!’
Lousewort was not convinced. ‘But he’s magic like the other beast. Maybe he kin put a spell on hisself so that ’is voice comes back!’
Lousewort’s voice was so loud that he attracted the attention of Rinkul and his gang. Immediately they spotted Tammo and began making their way towards him. The young hare acted quickly. Moaning and uttering dreadful croaking sounds he waved his paws wildly at Lousewort and Sneezewort. Unsure of what the ragged creature was about, the two rats backed off nervously. Rinkul and his vermin tried to shove past them and seize Tammo, but he pushed Sneezewort and Lousewort into them and ran off. Extricating themselves from the tangle, Rinkul and two others gave chase.
Tammo threw himself into the shelter, where Midge was waiting. He barely had time to gasp out the information when Rinkul appeared. Ducking his head under the canvas awning, the ferret drew an ugly-looking blade.
“Tis time ter settle up wid you two ragbags!’
Midge gave an evil cackle and raised his paws dramatically. ‘Beware o’ my magical powers, fool. Raise that blade at me an’ I’ll turn yer into a toad, right where y’stand!’
Sneeringly, Rinkul began raising the blade. Midge also raised his paws higher, threatening his adversary. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn ye. Snakeblood an’ lightnin’ come strike this abode, an’ turn yonder ferret into a fat toa . . .’
‘What’s going on here?’
At the sound of Damug Warfang’s voice, Rinkul swiftly sheathed his blade. Lowering his eyes humbly, he shrugged, and said, ‘Just a bit o’ fun, Sire. The ragged one was gonna show me’n’my mates a few spells an’ tricks.’
Damug strode between them, eyeing Rinkul suspiciously. ‘Get out of here and leave these creatures alone!’
Rinkul and the other two vermin bowed and hurried off, relieved that the Firstblade had not sensed their intentions. Damug bade the two hares to be seated. He stared at Midge for some time, then asked, ‘Could you have turned Rinkul into a toad?’
Cocking his head on one side, Midge returned the stare boldly. ‘That’s my business, Warlord. Now I’m really goin’ to show yer some magic. D’you want to know where t’meet the Redwallers?’
Damug leaned forward eagerly. ‘Aha! Your voices have spoken to you, Seer! Tell me!’
Midge shook his head knowingly. ‘Not so fast, Damug Warfang. Answer my questions an’ you’ll find that you already know, the information’ll come out by itself.’
For the first time, Damug looked puzzled. ‘You speak in riddles, Miggo. What do you mean?’
‘Be silent an’ speak only when I ask you a question!’
Tammo was as mystified as Damug. He feared that Midge had gone too far with their dangerous game. But as he listened, Tammo was surprised by his friend’s skills.
Midge tapped the patch that covered his eye. ‘Tell me, Firstblade, ’ow many good eyes ’ave you’n’I got between us?’
The Greatrat answered without hesitation. ‘Three.’
Midge cackled knowingly. ‘Haharrharr! You said it. Three! That’s the time you’ll meet those Redwallers, three days from now!’
Damug’s voice quivered with excitement. ‘What are their numbers – how many will they be, Seer?’
Midge Manycoats eyed him scornfully. ‘What if they ’ad twice yore number? Redwallers are peaceful creatures, they toil at growin’ things in earth. Yore a Warlord wid a thousand at yer back, all warriors. But ’earken t’me, Damug, if we’re talkin’ in hundreds then three is still yer lucky number.’
Damug thought about this a moment, then grinned wickedly. ‘Three hundred peace-loving beasts!’
Midge nodded. ‘You said it, Warfang, an’ ’tis little use lyin’ to yerself. Wot’s three ’undred farmers agin a thousand soldiers?’
Damug drew his sword, pointing it at Midge. ‘If there’s only three hundred then why can’t I just march on Redwall Abbey and take it, tell me that?’
Midge brushed aside the swordpoint contemptuously. ‘Go if ye will, fight ’em there! Wreck the place, smash it, burn Redwall t’the ground. What’ll ye have then, mighty one? Go on, you tell me that!’
Sullenly the Warlord sheathed his weapon. ‘Mayhaps you are right, it is difficult to control a thousand when they sense plunder in battle. So, where is the place to be?’
Squatting by the fire, Midge tossed in a pawful of salt. Blue flames rose from it. ‘Beneath a blue sky west o’ here lies a valley. I see a hill with a rock like an otter’s tail atop of it, and three ’undred standin’ by, waitin’ for yore blades to bring ’em death. Now I see yore father, Gormad Tunn, tellin’ you t’make the Rapscallions great again. Keep the rift at yore back, my son, that’s wot ’e says, keep the rift at yore back!’
The blue flames from the salt died down, and Midge shrugged. ‘That’s all, I see no more.’
Damug continued staring into the fire. ‘So why should the whole of Redwall be waiting for us in this field?’
Midge smiled. ‘Think, great one. The Redwallers have friends throughout Mossflower. They have been informed that a great army is gathering to attack. They will not risk allowing you to reach their sacred gates. Tomorrow they will hold a council of war, this I have seen. The quickest route to Redwall is through that field. The next day they will decide upon an ambush there. The third day they will set forth. All this I have seen.’
Damug sneered. ‘Well, what’s to stop us taking Redwall when the fools are all away playing soldiers in this field?’
Midge toyed with his cap while he rapidly thought of an answer. ‘Think again,’ he said finally. ‘You are destined for complete victory; to be the unchallenged ruler of all Mossflower. Do you really want to deal with bands of insurgents, resistance fighters who know these woods better than their own right paws? No! Better to slay and take prisoners for slaves to serve you and your great army. True victory only comes through conquest, great Lord!’
Convinced at last, the Greatrat recounted the information. ‘Three days from now I will face the Redwallers west of here. They will be on a hilltop; I must kee
p the rift at my back. What does my father mean – keep the rift at my back?’
Midge closed his eyes, as if exhausted. ‘I can’t tell yer, that’s all I know.’
‘Hmm,’ Damug grunted. ‘Well, I will field a thousand, but the Redwall creatures number only three hundred. Are you sure you can tell me no more, Seer?’
Midge shook his head several times. ‘Nothin’ except a certain victory for you an’ yore army.’
Damug strode to the entrance of the dwelling and summoned two guards, then he turned to Tammo and Midge. ‘So be it. Pray to the fates that you have seen truly. These two guards will watch you and never leave your side until Redwall is mine. If you have tried to play me false I will have you both skinned, roasted and fed to my army.’
He fixed the two guards with a cold stare. ‘If either of you let these two out of your sight for a moment, I will make you curse the day you were born. Is that clear?’
Sneezewort and Lousewort (whose turn it had been to stand guard duty) bobbed their heads vigorously as they croaked, ‘Er er, yes Sire!’
Immediately Damug had left, the two rats levelled the heavy guard spears they had been issued with at Tammo and Midge. ‘Sit still an’ don’t bat an eyelid, you two, or yer deadbeasts!’
The two hares sat with spearpoints almost touching their throats, knowing that the nervous rats were capable of anything in their highly strung state. Tammo stared beyond them. Outside he could see Rinkul and his gang lurking. In a barely audible whisper he said to Midge, ‘Touch an’ go, old chap, wot?’
Midge blinked his eyes in agreement. The situation was extremely dangerous. If they escaped the guards it would be like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. Yet they had to escape and take Fourdun with them, before dawn when the Rapscallion army would break camp and march west.
‘Time t’put the old thinkin’ caps on, bucko!’ he murmured back to his friend.
* * *
44
SPITTING PEBBLES AND dust, Foremole Diggum worked furiously in the darkness. When the tunnel collapsed he had been thrown partially clear, but he was trapped below the waist by the mountain of debris which stretched from floor to ceiling. The mole’s powerful digging claws tore at the rubble, showering stone and mortar either side until he pulled himself free. His head struck the lantern; it had gone out. Grabbing the cover off, Foremole blew gently on the smouldering wick, and a spark showed. Gently he coaxed the flame back to life.
‘Ahoy there, mate, move aside, I’m comin’ down!’ Shad the otter emerged from the top of the pile and slithered carefully over the slope of the cave-in, favouring his injured paw. ‘C’mon, let’s git diggin’ fer the others!’
Glittering pieces of booty sparkled in the lantern light. Shad seized a heavy gold platter and, using it as a scoop, he attacked the pile.
Foremole dug alongside him, calling out, ‘Whurr are ee, you’m gennelbeasts? Call out naow!’
A muffled but urgent cry came back at them from inside the pile. ‘Go easy, there’s only a beam protectin’ us. Dig careful, friends!’
Shad grunted as he tunnelled into the jumble of earth and stone. ‘Take care o’ miz Craklyn an’ the Abbess, young Butty – we’ll soon have ye out o’ there!’
Hauling aside a block of masonry between them, they pulled and tugged at timbers and rock slivers. Foremole flinched suddenly. ‘Yowch! Oi be stabbed in ee tail!’
Shad held up the lantern to see what it was. An ornate silver spearhead, studded with peridots and tasselled with silk, was poking out of the debris, its point waving and shaking.
‘In here, we’re in here! Hurry, the air’s runnin’ out!’
Shad held on to the spearhead whilst Foremole dug swiftly around it. The good mole was an expert digger, and he soon had a small tunnel through to the three trapped creatures. Shad began enlarging it, scooping aside earth with his gold platter.
There was an ominous creaking of timber, then the sound of Abbess Tansy’s voice calling to them. ‘You’d best be quick – Craklyn’s been knocked senseless and I think this beam is about to break under the weight of rubble!’
Shad thrust the lantern through and squeezed in after it. Bent double, he sized up the situation.
The cave-in had fallen around a huge baulk of timber, leaving a small space. Butty and Tansy were crouched in it, supporting the limp form of Craklyn. Suddenly, unable to bear the weight of collapsed material, the beam gave a splintering crack, showering them with soil and mortar dust.
Foremole scrambled in alongside Shad. Moving Tansy aside, he took her place so that he and Butty were supporting Craklyn. ‘Hurr, et be gurtly bad in yurr, marm. Do ee get owt quick loik!’
Shad assisted Tansy into the escape tunnel, and the timber beam began to groan like a living thing as it shifted. The hefty otter threw caution to the winds. Wedging his back beneath the beam he strained upward and took the weight upon himself.
‘Get ’em out, Diggum mate. Don’t argue. Go!’
They scrambled out, dragging Craklyn between them, through choking dust and a rain of pebbles.
Foremole and Butty grabbed the silver-headed spear, thrusting the pole back towards Shad, who had been forced almost flat. Butty shouted instructions. ‘Grip tight to the spearpole, mister Shad. You push, we’ll pull. Ready, one, two, push!’
Shad held the spearpole like a vice as, forcing himself free of the beam, he gave a mighty shove. Foremole and Butty heaved on the other end, knowing their friend’s life depended on it.
Covered in earth and battered by stones, Shad flew out of the tunnel as the beam broke and everything collapsed inward behind him. He was practically shot out of the hole like an arrow from a bow, landing in a heap atop his rescuers.
Butty found the remains of a flask of elderberry wine which had been thrown clear. Whilst Tansy bathed Craklyn’s brow with it, Shad took stock of their situation.
‘Well, messmates, that’s wot we get fer goin’ treasure ’untin’. We’re blocked in this passage better’n if we’d been walled in by builders. Still, we’re alive, an’ the air is fit to breathe.’
Licking her lips, Craklyn came back to consciousness. ‘Mmm, I taste like elderberry wine, that’s strange. What happened? Is everybeast all right?’
Tansy breathed a sigh of relief and hugged her old squirrel friend fondly. ‘Everyone is fine, though you were knocked out when the tunnel collapsed. How do you feel?’
Craklyn stood up and dusted off her gown. ‘Fine, never felt better! Dearie me, looks as if we’re trapped down here, though. What in the name of seasons are you up to, young Butty?’
The squirrel Friar pointed proudly to the small heap of glittering objects he had gathered from the rubble. ‘Collectin’ treasure, marm. ‘Tis rare pretty stuff!’
Foremole wrinkled his snout at the precious trove. ‘Phwurr! Pretty is all et be. Us’n’s caint eat et, hurr no, so ’tis of no use at all down yurr!’
Craklyn ignored the mole. She dug out of her pocket the rhyme she had copied, shaking her head knowingly. ‘I thought so. Treasure, that’s what we missed. Look at the first letter of each line reading downward.
Turn at the lowest stair,
Right is the left down there,
Every pace you must count,
At ten times paws amount,
See where a deathbird flies,
Under the hunter’s eyes,
Radiant in splendour fair,
Ever mine, hidden where?’
She folded the scrap of parchment triumphantly. ‘So that’s the riddle solved. Treasure! And we’ve found it!’
Shad picked up the empty wine canteen. ‘Well good fer us, marm, but Foremole’s right, treasure ain’t goin’ to feed us, or get us out o’ this mess. So, wot next?’
Craklyn and Butty gathered up the treasure and wrapped it in a cloak – having found it they were not about to leave it behind, The young Friar gazed at the heap of debris blocking the passage. ‘We’ll take this with us. Hmm, bet there’s lots more of it buried i
n there, pity we can’t dig it out.’
Abbess Tansy tweaked Butty’s ear playfully. ‘You greedy young wretch! Come on, let’s explore further down this passage and see where it leads. Bring the lantern, Shad.’
There was neither dawn nor dusk far beneath the earth; time had no meaning. It was only by hunger and thirst that the five companions could judge how long they had been down there. Long, dark and dreary, dry, dusty and silent, the passage wound on a downward slope. Occasionally they arrived at a cave-in that had not quite blocked the way, and then they found themselves scrambling up hills of broken stone, forcing their way through narrow apertures close to the tunnel ceiling.
Foremole tapped the walls regularly and probed the tight-packed earth at window and door spaces, but without any great success. Being the strongest of the party, he and Shad forged ahead in front of the others, to make sure the way was safe.
The big otter was wearied from his exertions fighting the crushing beam. ‘I don’t like it, Diggum,’ he murmured in a low voice to Foremole. ‘Looks like we’re goin’ nowheres down ’ere. We ain’t got food nor drink, only the air we breathe, an’ that lantern light ain’t goin’ to last for ever.’
Dust rose from his back as the mole patted it. ‘Hurr, oi knows that, ole riverdog, but us’n’s be bound t’put ee brave face on, lest ee froighten an’ scare ee uthers. Coom now, let’s set an’ rest awhoile.’
They waited for the others to join them, then all five sat with their backs against the wall, tired and dispirited, each with their own thoughts, which were rather similar. Green grass, sunlight, fresh air, clear water, and the happy world of Redwall Abbey, so far above them that it all seemed like a dream.
* * *
45
MAJOR PERIGORD STOOD in the gap of the south wall with Captain Twayblade. Together they watched the shrews and Waterhogs from the water meadows being led up the slope by Log a Log and Gurgan Spearback to join the Redwall army. Perigord attempted a rough headcount as they turned west to the main gate.
The Long Patrol Page 24
