Marlfox (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  Cregga sat up straight. ‘Maybe not. I was once Badger Ruler of the hollow mountain by the sea called Salamandastron. Badgers always rule there. I recall seeing some rock carvings in a chamber on the mountain. I never really paid them much attention. Strange how it comes back to one at the mention of certain words. A lake monster means nought to me, but a white ghost, I remember that. You see, those wall carvings told of all the great Badger Lords who had held sway on Salamandastron. Two of these were twins, Urthstripe and Urthwyte. I think the tale goes that they were separated at birth and lost to each other. However, Urthstripe discovered his brother, Urthwyte, on an island in the middle of a vast lake. There, Urthwyte, who was born completely white of fur, became known as the White Ghost. They both travelled from the island to Salamandastron, where Urthstripe was Badger Lord. There was a great battle against vermin hordes and Urthstripe was slain. Urthwyte became Badger Lord in his stead and was often known to the hares that serve the mountain as Whiteghost. That’s all I can tell you, but it may prove Ellayo wasn’t imagining things.’

  Cregga stopped talking. Holding up a paw for silence, she listened, and after a while she smiled. ‘Come out, you two. Blinny and Wugger, if I’m not mistaken.’

  The two molebabes crawled from behind the sofa.

  ‘Hurr, you’m surrpintly bain’t mistaken, ’tis us’ ’n’s.’

  ‘Burr, ’ow did ee knowed ’twas us’n’s, mum?’

  Cregga judged they were within paw range and swept both Dibbuns up on to her lap. ‘I just knowed, that’s all. Now what are you two after in Friar Butty’s gatehouse?’

  ‘We’m horful thursty, marm. Ee sun be ’ot out thurr!’

  Song poured them a beaker each of the cool rosehip tea, smiling as she watched them noisily sucking it up.

  ‘Been playing hard, I suppose. Where’s your pal got to, that rascally mousebabe Dwopple?’

  Blinny drained the last of her drink, wiping a paw across her mouth. ‘Us’n’s never goed on ee walltop, miz, ’onest we’m din’t!’

  Butty wagged his quill pen at the molebabes. ‘But Dwopple did, eh? What was he doing up there?’

  ‘Ee’m talkin’ to mista Stickybee. We’m tol’ ’im not to go oop thurr, but D’opple a likkle naughtybeast, hurr aye.’

  Friar Butty shook his head wearily. ‘He certainly is. Song, would you and your friends like to go and get that little wretch down off the ramparts before he does something silly and injures himself? Which wall was it, Blinny?’

  ‘Norff wall, zurr. Ee’m oop thurr a-talkin’ wi’ mista Stickybee.’

  Dannflor patted the molebabe’s velvety head. ‘Don’t you fret, young ’un, we’ll get mister Stickybee down too, whoever he is. Come on, Dipp.’

  The three chums mounted the walltop by the gatehouse steps and trotted along the north wall. Song searched carefully around the angle of each battlement, whilst Dippler and Dann covered the east wall adjoining.

  ‘There’s no sign of ’im ’ere, Song.’

  ‘No, he’s not here either, Dipp. What d’you think, Dann?’

  ‘Oh, the little wretch prob’ly got fed up and got down by himself. Perhaps he’s by the pond. Let’s take a look over that way.’

  Florian and the troupe were singing a comic song for their audience, who were not just Dibbuns, but many Redwallers who had finished their chores. The onlookers were in pleats laughing at the antics of the Noonvale Companions as they performed funny walks in time to their song, encouraging the Dibbuns to get up and join in with them. The little creatures needed no second urging and paraded joyfully with the troupe.

  ‘Oh come along dearies follow me,

  I’ll take ye down t’the sycamore tree,

  Plum pudden an’ turnover, apple pie.

  Beneath its spreadin’ boughs we’ll lie,

  With veggible pasty an’ damson tart,

  We’ll wheel it along in a little cart,

  The birds will sing “Give us some do.”

  Oh the food’s for us an’ the crumbs for you,

  So empty the cupboard out what d’you see,

  A fruitcake for you an’ trifle for me,

  There’s bread’n’cheese an’ what d’you think,

  A jugful o’ raspberry cordial to drink.

  A rowtle tee towtle an’ toora lie ay,

  What do you think our old mother will say,

  Riddle dum diddle dum derrydown dare,

  When she comes home to find her cupboard all bare?’

  Dann caught up with Florian, who leaned against the cart wheezing after the performance.

  ‘My word! Not as young as I was last season, wot!’

  ‘Sir, have you seen baby Dwopple lately?’

  Florian mopped his brow with a red spotted kerchief. ‘That scutterbug! Can’t say I have, young laddo, but with a bit o’ luck an eagle may’ve flown off with the blighter!’

  Deesum was immediately in the midst of things. ‘Eagle, what eagle, where? Oh, my poor little treasure, he’s been carried off in the talons of a huge eagle!’

  The hare rolled his eyes skyward and sighed. ‘Dwopple was not borne off by an eagle, marm, ’twas merely wishful thinkin’ on my part. Huh, pity the poor eagle that had the nerve to try an’ make off with that miniature rotter, wot!’

  Song reassured her. ‘I’m sure Dwopple is safe, miz Deesum, somewhere within Redwall, but we can’t find him. Blinny and Wugger, the molebabes, were the last to see him, on the north walltop. We’ve looked but he’s not there.’

  Deesum snatched the kerchief from Florian and wrung it distractedly. ‘Then we must search until we find the sweet little mite. Everybeast, stop what you are doing and search the entire place. Look high and low, drag the pond and scour the cellars!’

  Florian could not resist a dig at the mouse’s dramatics. ‘Right y’are. I’ll turn out m’pockets an’ comb my fur!’

  He wilted as the tough-looking Rusvul caught him tight by the paw. ‘A babe is missin’. ‘Tis no jokin’ matter, an’ you’d do well to quit playactin’ an’ join the search!’

  Janglur and Tragglo searched the cellars, Brother Melilot and Foremole Gubbio checked the kitchens. Song and her friends accompanied Sister Sloey through the Infirmary and dormitories. The three otters, Borrakul, Elachim and Skipper, waited until the coast was clear before diving in the Abbey pond and covering every fraction of it carefully. Skipper thwacked his wet rudder on the bank, sending droplets cascading wide. ‘Thank the seasons the liddle feller ain’t in there!’

  Runktipp and the two moles, Roop and Muggle, had patrolled the orchard twice. They tried to comfort Deesum, who wept pitifully.

  ‘There there now, miz Deesum, don’t go gittin’ yoreself all of a tizzy, that mousebabe’s bound to be somewheres in the Abbey or the grounds. Stands to reason, don’t it?’

  ‘Burr aye, all ee gates be well locked oop, an’ ee walls be too ’igh furr maister Dwopple to clamber o’er. Doan’t ee fret, marm, us’ll foind ’im afore long.’

  Evening came and still they searched, finding no trace of the mousebabe. Badgermum Cregga and Friar Butty questioned Wugger and Blinny patiently.

  ‘What time of day was it when you last saw Dwopple?’

  ‘Urr, just afore lunch, zurr, on ee norff walltop.’

  ‘Right, now what about this mister Stickybee? Did you see him?’

  ‘Ho no, marm, us’n’s din’t see ’im!’

  ‘Then how do you know there is such a creature?’

  ‘Ee’m talked to uz an’ gived D’opple a candysweet.’

  Friar Butty scratched his ear distractedly with the quill pen. ‘But how could he do all that and you still didn’t see him?’

  ”Cos ee wurr outside, zurr, back o’ ee likkle wallgate. Stickybee slided D’opple a candyfruit unner d’door. Stickybee say ee give us’n’s a gurt bag o’ candyfruits if’n uz go oop to walltops.’

  ‘But you two never went up there, only Dwopple did, right?’

  Both molebabes nodded. Butty tried to hold his patie
nce. ‘Why did you not tell us all this before?’

  ”Cos you’m never axed uz, zurr.’

  Cregga could not help smiling, despite her anxiety. ‘Well, Friar, there’s a bit of true mole logic. Wugger’s right, though, we should have thought to ask them a lot earlier. Come on, you two, ’tis dark out and way past your bedtime.’

  Friar Butty walked back to the Abbey with them. ‘Cregga, marm, I don’t like the sound of this. Sounds like the Marlfoxes to me. Remember the night of the storm? These two practically described Marlfoxes to us, but nobeast believed them.’

  Cregga felt for the Abbey door handle. ‘Aye, that’s true, Friar. But I want no mention of what they’ve told us made to anybeast yet. There’s no need to cause alarm. Dwopple may be found hiding somewhere before morning. We’ll just have to keep searching.’

  ‘But what if we can’t find him?’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to search the whole of Mossflower.’ Mokkan and the other Marlfoxes sat round a fire on the creek edge, roasting a couple of plump waterfowl. The rats sat further away, cooking fish over their own fires. Mokkan blew a feather from his muzzle tip and watched it float off into the night.

  ‘Plenty of good vittles in this part of Mossflower. Nothing like a roasted bird after a good day’s work, eh!’

  The cloak, with its top tied securely, hung from the bough of a beech tree close by, bobbing about as Dwopple kicked and protested from inside his prison. ‘You fibba liars, where mista Stickabee? Lemme go, I wanna bag o’ candysweets, you let Dwopple go!’

  Gelltor slapped the bag lightly. ‘Quiet in there, or I’ll give you something to shout about!’

  The mousebabe did a dance of rage inside the cloak. ‘Rottin fosskers, toucha Dwopple an’ I get you wirra me slinger!’

  One of the vixens, Predak, stared across the flames at Mokkan. ‘You’re very confident this is going to work, brother?’

  Mokkan tested the roasting bird with a knifetip. ‘Why d’you say that? No reason it shouldn’t work. You’ll see, those Abbeybeasts would part with anything rather than have one of their babes hurt. But speak up if you have a better idea.’

  Predak watched a moth shrivel as it ventured too near the firelight. ‘Oh, your idea’s a good one, but wouldn’t it be better if we had another plan to fall back on in case anything goes wrong?’

  Mokkan’s pale eyes glimmered as they reflected the flames. ‘Tell me. I’m not like our brother Gelltor, I’m always ready to listen to other schemes.’

  On the island, two rat guards marched up a ramp towards the main chamber. One of them whispered irately, ‘Well, what is it tonight? There’s no storm to disturb ’er.’

  The other rat’s eyes flickered from side to side among the gloomy recesses and curves of the winding stone passage. ‘Keep yer voice down, mate. Y’never know who might be lissenin’. Queen Silth’ll let us know wot’s on ’er mind soon enough, an’ you can bet yer tail it won’t be good news. It never is!’

  Outside, the great lake was calm and the island quiet in dim peaceful summer night. But the main chamber was lit like noontide, with banks upon banks of thick tallow candles ranged from floor to ceiling, their light reflecting amber and gold against the long brass wallplates the Marlfoxes used as mirrors.

  Threescore rats of the Guard Command stood stiffly to attention, their black livery marking them apart from the brown of lower ranks. Each carried a leaf-bladed short spear and a small round buckler shield. Above in the crisscrossed roofbeams more than fifty magpies swaggered and strutted, hopping boldly about, some even venturing to perch on the big circular candle-laden wheels which served as chandeliers. These were the tribe of Athrak, feared favourites of the High Queen. The two water rats from the shoreline patrol hurried to stand in formation with their fellow Guard Commanders, flinching as drops of hot wax from the ceiling fell on them each time a magpie caused one of the wheels to sway. After a while, even the magpies became still and silent, and an uneasy quiet fell over the chamber as Silth made her entrance.

  The carriers bore their burden with exquisite care, setting the silken-curtained palanquin slowly down on a raised block of speckled marble at the chamber’s far end. All eyes were now centred on the stone, though they had seen it many times before. A gasp went up from the onlookers as the vixen Lantur seemed to materialize from the speckled marble block. She had been standing there since the first rat entered, completely undetected, camouflaged by the stone’s pattern. Lantur held her paws wide as two water rats hurried forward and draped the brown-green cloak about her shoulders. At a nod from her the Guard Commanders raised their spears, calling out as in one mighty voice: ‘O eternal Silth! High Queen, live for ever! Beauty be yours alone!’

  The harsh rasping voice that issued from behind the curtains held a petulant note, like that of a spoiled young one. ‘Noise! All night long. Noise! I hear the waters of that lake, trying to eat away the rocks of my island! I hear the night breeze whispering like death, swirling about my castle, trying to find me! But what have you done about these things . . . Nothing! Sleep will not come, it flies away from me on dark wings, I cannot catch it. Why?’

  The water rat Commanders stood rigid, not daring to move a muscle, watched by the bright searching eyes of the magpies above them. Lantur strode up and down between the ranks, chastising the hapless rodents with her tongue. ‘You are growing fat and idle whilst your Queen suffers. There are no excuses for your stupidity. At night, whilst you are shirking your duties, the White Ghost wanders the rooms and corridors of Castle Marl!’

  The Queen’s voice interrupted Lantur, shrill with fear. ‘Fools! I know what you are thinking, but I have seen it!’

  At that point one of the unfortunate Guard Commanders dropped his shield. The clang of metal upon stone echoed through the chamber. Athrak launched himself from a crossbeam, calling his tribe.

  ‘Rakkarakkarakka! Gerrimclaw!’

  The magpies zoomed down like lightning upon the wretched creature. Talons and beaks gripped fur, paws, tail and tunic cruelly, lifting him bodily from the floor. Knocking other rats aside, the magpies rushed their prisoner forward, chattering gleefully as they dropped him in front of the marble block and stood surrounding him. The water rat lay cringing on the floorstones. Silth’s voice was harsh and accusing. ‘Have you seen the White Ghost?’

  A thin smile played about Lantur’s features. She adopted a tone of reasonable enquiry. ‘Well, friend, have you seen the White Ghost or haven’t you? Answer your Queen.’

  The rat was in a quandary. If he said he had seen the White Ghost Silth would make him describe it. If his description did not ring true, then what? His only hope was to tell the truth.

  ‘O High Queen, I have not seen the White Ghost, I swear it!’

  It was the wrong answer. The tasselled silk curtains shook as Silth raged insanely.

  ‘Of course you haven’t, because you’ve been sleeping on duty and idling your time away! Athrak, tell my protectors of the skies to remove this worthless heap of offal from Castle Marl! He shall answer for his laziness to the Teeth of the Deeps!’ The rat gave a pitiful moan as Athrak’s magpies seized him with wicked joy and bore him off.

  At an upstairs window the curtains of the palanquin parted slightly. Silth watched the scene below on the lakeshore. Blazing torches had been spiked in a semi-circle into the rock at the water’s edge. The head of the Guard Command chopped a dead fish into chunks and hurled them into the dark waters. There were no shallows; the island was a massive, steep-sided mountain, its bottom resting on the lake bed, unfathomable depths below. The water rats stood watching the surface, their stomachs knotted in terror, mouths dry with fear, as the waters began to thrash and churn. Dorsal fins and gold-green scales, hooked jaws and curved sets of ripping teeth flashed in the torchlights. Pike! The great freshwater predators set up bow waves as they stormed to the spot, whipping themselves into a feeding frenzy as they fought for gobbets of the dead fish. The condemned water rat screeched as Athrak’s ruthless birds lifted h
im out over the depths. ‘No, no, I lied. I’ve seen the White Ghost! Eeeeeeyaaaagh!’

  Silth listened to the splash as the rat’s body was dropped to the waiting pike shoal. She shut the curtains with a triumphant chuckle. ‘I knew he was lying all along. If I’ve seen the White Ghost then others have. Right, Lantur?’

  The vixen Marlfox smiled slyly. ‘It is as you say, O Great One!’

  Two water rat Guard Commanders unspiked the torches and extinguished them, sizzling, in the lake.

  ‘Is she still up at the window watchin’?’

  ‘I dunno. Keep yer eyes front, mate, unless you wants ter feed the fish. You know ’tis death to look upon the Queen.’

  ‘Huh, ’tis death to do anythin’ on this cursed rock. In fact ye can get slain fer nothin’. Lookit pore ole Rigglent, all he did was drop his shield. That ole Queen was just lookin’ for a chance to pick on somebeast. This place gets worse!’

  The other rat finished stacking the torches in a pile. ‘Don’t tell me, cully. Why don’t yer leave? Lake full o’ pike an’ the sky guarded by magpies, wot’s to stop yer, eh?’

  In the slave pens there was speculation over what had taken place at the lakeside. An ancient mouse rubbed the area above his footpaw, where the manacles had worn through his fur, causing a sore. ‘Sounded like one o’ the water rats bein’ fed to the Teeth o’ the Deeps. Better one o’ them than a slave, that’s what I say.’

  A lean, tired-looking otter stared longingly through the bars at the water rat barracks. ‘Aye, yore right there, matey. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that the one who got slung in the lake was Ullig?’

  Sitting up in the straw, a sturdy hedgehog maid muttered, ‘No such luck, friend. Y’best keep quiet, ’ere comes the bully hisself.’

  Slave Captain Ullig rattled the bars with his whip butt. ‘Silence in there or I’ll pick a few of you lot out to feed the Teeth o’ the Deeps. Those pike ain’t fussy wot they eat. Even a couple of scrawny slaves would taste good to ’em.’

  Ullig sauntered off back to the barracks, watched by the silent slaves. When he had gone a gaunt-eyed squirrel smashed his chains against the bars in helpless rage. ‘Swaggerin’ scum! I’d teach Ullig a lesson if I was free of these chains just fer a moment!’