Marlfox (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  Betwixt those two’s the path you take,

  Good fortune wend you on your way!’

  Dippler scratched his fur beneath the weighty chainmail suit. The young Guosim shrew was still puzzled by the cryptic words. ‘Sounds pretty enough, but I still ain’t got a clue, mates.’

  Friar Butty smiled at Dippler’s inexperience. ‘Fiddley dee, young feller, you’d be the wisest creature around if you did. Riddling poems are not written so that we may solve them at a glance, right, Song?’

  The pretty young squirrel nodded as she scanned the verse. ‘That’s correct, Friar. We need to study this thing hard, take it a line at a time and concentrate upon the words.’

  Dann settled his chin on both paws, staring hard at the puzzle. ‘Hmm. By the look of it this doesn’t mention anythin’ about Marlfoxes.’

  Dippler struggled out of the chainmail, which had finally become too uncomfortable for him. ‘Maybe it doesn’t, Dann, but it might lead us to know ’em better – where they come from, why they made such a journey, an’ so on.’

  Friar Butty patted his young friend’s back heartily. ‘Well said, Dippler! I think you’ve the makings of a great scholar.’

  Accompanied by Log a Log and some of his shrews, Janglur and Rusvul were collecting together all the serviceable weapons they could lay paws upon. Carrying bags made from old curtain drapes they approached the gatehouse, where Cregga had told them there was a cupboard full of disused armaments. Suddenly, Rusvul stopped so sharply that Janglur almost collided with him. Log a Log looked at the warrior squirrel, who was glaring grim-faced at the walltop.

  ‘Rusvul, wot’s the matter, matey?’

  Ignoring the shrew Chieftain’s question, Rusvul shouted angrily, ‘Dannflor Reguba, what’n the name o’ blazes d’you think yore playin’ at up there?’

  Still sitting poring over the writings, Dann waved cheerily down to his father. ‘We’re tryin’ to solve a riddle. ’Tis all about that isle on the great lake an’ how t’get there.’

  Rusvul slammed his javelin point hard into the ground. ‘A warrior who’s put on guard duty should be doin’ just that, guardin’ the walltops! Not foolin’ about with games!’

  Janglur cautioned his friend in a quiet voice. ‘Go easy, mate, Dann’s still only a young ’un.’

  But Rusvul’s unpredictable temper allowed no margin for reason. ‘Supposin’ the foebeast launched an attack on the east wall while yore sittin’ foolin’ about on the west wall, what then?’

  Friar Butty hastily bundled up the rhyme and passed it to Song, who stowed it in her tunic as all four stood up. The Friar spread his paws wide, bowing slightly to the party below. ‘You mustn’t blame them, friends, ’twas all my idea. I thought that young fresh minds would help me with my investigations.’

  The burly shrew Fenno pointed an accusing paw at Dippler. ‘Hah! Might o’ known he’d be part o’ this. Remember wot ‘appened to our logboats when he was supposed t’be guardin’ ’em, eh?’

  Fenno found that he could say no more, because Log a Log’s rapier point was beneath his chin, forcing his head back. The shrew Chieftain spoke calmly. ‘Who asked yore opinion, loudmouth? Keep out o’ this or I’ll pin yore big tongue t’that liddle thing y’call a brain!’

  Song tried to calm things down by addressing her father. ‘We really were guarding the walls. It was only when lunch arrived that we took a little break and had a look at the Friar’s rhyme.’

  Janglur Swifteye winked lazily at his daughter. ‘I ain’t complainin’, missie. I felt good’n’safe down below in Cavern ‘Ole whilst you an’ yore pals stood sentry up there.’ He shrugged and nudged Rusvul playfully. ‘Wasn’t you ever young yourself, mate? Come on, let it be. Dann’s a fine son, just like my Song’s a good daughter. We should be proud of ’em.’

  But Rusvul would not let it be. He pointed an accusing paw at Dann. ‘A guard’s a guard an’ a warrior’s a warrior, not some kind o’ dusty scholar. More so if yore name is Reguba. That’s a title to live up to, son, always remember that!’

  A voice boomed out behind them. ‘Stop all this! I will not have arguing and bad feeling within these Abbey walls!’ Cregga Badgermum strode up, with Skipper at her side. The big otter stood forward and spoke for her.

  ‘Log a Log, put up yore blade, mate. ’Tis against Redwall’s rules of ‘ospitality to draw steel agin’ another whilst yore a guest ’ere. An’ the rest of you, ’ear this. If you got any grievances whilst yore at Redwall Abbey, then the council of elders’ll sort ’em out. All must live in peace ’ere without arguin’ or fightin’. So settle any differences or ferget ’em. Show an example t’the young ’uns, eh?’

  Log a Log sheathed his rapier and shook Skipper’s paw. ‘Sounds like good sense t’me, messmate. Right, let’s get on with gatherin’ weapons so we can show a liddle good manners to those Marlfoxes an’ water rats tonight!’

  The dispute broke up amid chuckles and laughter. Cregga reached out a paw and halted Rusvul as he moved off. The good badger spoke to him out of earshot of the rest. ‘You have not been here many seasons, Rusvul, and I know you had a hard life. But you should not have shamed your son by shouting at him in front of otherbeasts like that. Dann is a fine young creature, but like us all he is bound to make mistakes. It’s part of growing up. I know you honour your title of Reguba, and the way of the warrior is not an easy one. However, it is no bad thing for a warrior to have a scholar’s knowledge. It can bring wisdom to his judgement and shrewdness to his thinking.’

  Rusvul patted the badger’s wide paw. ‘Yore right, of course, marm, but ’tis no easy thing t’be both father an’ mother to a young ’un. I’m more used to fightin’ than to parentin’.’

  Cregga turned her eyes towards him as if she could see him. ‘Good. Then show us what you are made of out there tonight.’

  Five sacks of weapons had been collected, blades and short arms which were easily concealed within the curtain bags. Supper was taken early in Great Hall, and before it was served Skipper gave final orders.

  ‘Log a Log, straight after you’ve eaten, take some Guosim out. Go from the main gate across into the ditch, follow it north a bit then sweep out an’ come back down t’the south woodland fringe. We’ll give you a shout when we’re ready for yore lot to attack from the rear. Janglur an’ Rusvul, you’ll lead the party carryin’ the sacks of arms. Tragglo an’ Gubbio, you’ll be in charge of our own Redwallers an’ the rest o’ the shrews. When you see Janglur’n’Rusvul open the sack o’ trinkets, that’s when you grab the weapons out of the sacks an’ attack. Make sure you shout’n’yell plenty to confuse ’em. I’ll grab Dwopple an’ pass the liddle ’un safe to Cregga, an’ we’ll get ’im back to the Abbey. Friar Butty, ’ave the gate ready, an’ soon as Cregga an’ Dwopple are inside, lock it! I’ll come back an’ join the rest of ye. ’Tis a scrap I’d ’ate to miss! If all goes well we should be soon bangin’ on the gate to get back in, so lissen for us, Friar. Now, Sister Sloey, Melilot an’ Nutwing, you take all the elders an’ Dibbuns down to the wine cellars. Stay there safe an’ silent, you’ll be fine. Dann, Song an’ Dippler, you three’ll stay guard ’ere in Great Hall. Make sure none enters here save Redwallers. The safety of our Abbey’s in yore paws. So that’s the plan. Good luck to all an’ blood’n’vinegar to our foes!’

  Ellayo looked uncertainly at Skipper. ‘But they are so young, Skip. Are you sure they are ready for such a great task?’

  ‘Don’t worry yourself, marm. With our plan no rat or fox will find its way inside these walls.’

  Everybeast pounded the tables and roared approval, though none more than Dann, Song, and Dippler, who were flushed with pride at the enormous responsibility Skipper had bestowed upon them. Badgermum Cregga spoke when the din had died down. ‘I think a warriors’ grace is in order before we eat.

  ‘Fate and fortunes, seasons fair,

  Be kind to us this day,

  Let nobeast here whom we hold dear,

  See comrades borne away.

&n
bsp; May the strong defend the weak,

  Protect those who take part,

  Grant victory of truth and right,

  To warriors brave of heart.

  Banish the foebeast from our land,

  And when new seasons fall,

  Leave not an empty space of grief,

  Amongst us at Redwall!’

  There was silence for a moment, then Florian Duggle-woof Wilffachop added a few lines in a stage whisper that could be heard by all.

  ‘An’ if on an empty tummy I’m slain,

  Then I’ll jolly well never get killed again,

  So pass the pudden an’ fetch the pies,

  An’ I’ll give the foebeast a rotten surprise!’

  Deesum rapped the hare’s paw sharply with a spoon. ‘Mister Florian, what a dreadful thing to say!’

  Florian wrung his paw and blew upon it. ‘Owooch! Save your aggression for the enemy, marm! I say, what a super pasty. Is that all for me, wot?’

  Gurrbowl the cellarmole sliced off a wedge of pasty and presented it to the gluttonous hare. ‘This yurr pasty be’s full o’ woild garlic, maister. You’m may not loik et, ’tis powerful strong, ho urr!’

  Much to the amusement of everybeast, Florian ate a double helping with great relish. ‘Exceedingly tasty, my good mole. Garlic, y’say? Well, at least I won’t have much trouble bowlin’ the enemy over. I’ll just shout in their faces like this. Whoooooo are yooooooooou!’

  Deesum fell back, clutching a serviette to her nose. ‘Really, sir, do you have to do that?’

  Rimrose helped herself to some mint wafers and maple sauce. ‘Were you ever in a battle, mister Florian?’

  Borrakul the otter paused, a ladle half in and half out of a bowl of summer vegetable soup. ‘Oh, don’t start him, marm, please!’

  But Florian was on fine form. Piling his plate high with woodland trifle and plum tart, he put on a brave face. ‘Battle did y’say, marm? I once frightened off a thousand flippin’ frogs armed with nought but a pail o’ wet blackberries!’

  Tragglo Spearback swirled the October Ale in his tankard. ‘Don’t tell such whackin’ fibs, you great furry fraud!’

  Deesum looked up from a slice of strawberry flan she was nibbling. ‘Oh, but he did. Let me tell you how it happened. We’d been picking blackberries and had collected a small pailful, but unfortunately baby Dwopple upset them in some mud. Mister Florian took them down to the stream to wash them clean while we set up camp. It was in deep woodlands down southwest. While he was away we were suddenly surrounded by masses of frogs. There must have been a thousand of the dreadful things, and they looked very aggressive and pretty angry with us. I think it was because we had done our washing in a poolful of their tadpoles. Anyhow, they had us captured and looked as if they were planning something ugly as a punishment for the whole troupe. Go on, you tell them what happened next, sir.’

  Florian smiled modestly from behind his heaped platter. ‘Oh, ’twas nothin’ really. Y’see, I’d spotted what was goin’ on. Those frog chaps looked rather peeved an’ I thought they might harm my troupe. I had the jolly old pail full of water, with the blackberries in it – they’d gotten messed up a bit an’ looked rather mushy, but still jolly tasty, wot. So I comes trundlin’ up, pullin’ the drippin’ blackberries out o’ the water pail an’ scoffin’ ’em by the pawful, shoutin’ out loud in a fearsome voice. Tadpoles! Haharr, tadpoles (says I), nothin’ nicer for lunch than a perishin’ pailful o’ tadpoles except a nice juicy green frog or two! I say, you chaps, hello there! Saved some frogs for me, wot wot?’

  Elachim shook with laughter as he recalled the incident. ‘Hohoho! You should’ve seen those frogs scatter. Some of ’em leapt clear over big bushes. They thought ole Florian was comin’ to scoff ’em! Hahaha! An’ there he stood, cool as y’like, shovin’ wet blackberries down ’is face an’ pretendin’ they was tadpoles!’

  Florian mused around a spoonful of trifle. ‘Hmm, maybe some of ’em were. That stream was full of all manner of small black wriggly things, blackberries, tadpoles, who could jolly well tell? Silly bloomin’ frogs. Fancy takin’ a perfectly respectable cove like m’self for a cannibal frogscoffer. Tchah!’

  Winking broadly at Nutwing, Friar Butty shook his head sympathetically. ‘Indeed, how could they have made such a dreadful error?’

  The lively meal progressed into the evening, with the Wandering Noonvale Companions Troupe rendering one of the songs from their repertoire in three-part harmony, with the hedgehog Runktipp acting as conductor. Log a Log watched Abbey lamplighters illuminating the candles and lanterns around Great Hall as daylight’s last gleam deserted long stained-glass windows. Rising silently from the table, he nodded to his chosen group of Guosim. Quietly they checked their rapiers, slings and stone pouches, then slipped off into the gathering night, with the melodious strains of the singers echoing around the hall after them.

  ‘I paint my face or wear a mask,

  For I’ll be anybeast you ask,

  As I wander on my way.

  A skilful tumbler bounding high,

  A pitiful mope who’ll make you cry,

  My actor’s part I play.

  And what care you if I am sad,

  Or if ill fortune I have had,

  ’Tis just a clown, you say.

  Aye, just a droll who plays a part,

  Who travels in a painted cart,

  From dawn to dusk each day.

  An actor can be young or old,

  Figure of fun or hero bold,

  From tears to laughter without pause,

  I strut the stage to your applause,

  Then I look in my mirror and say, “Hey,

  What fool shall I play today?”’

  * * *

  11

  Mokkan glanced up at the waning moon settling itself behind a rambling cloudbank. Somewhere off in the woodland a lone nightjar warbled, while a warm breeze stirred sedge and rye grasses on the ditch top. It was a night perfect for ambush. The water rats and Marlfoxes crouched in the ditch bed, spears and blades blackened by firesmoke so they would not betray a glimmer. The vixen Predak moved silent as night shadow down the ditch to where the main force waited with Mokkan. She gestured back towards the main Abbey gate. ‘Ascrod and Vannan are in place with their two rats.’

  Mokkan ventured a swift peek over the ditch top. ‘No sign of the Redwallers yet?’

  Predak scratched her muzzle, betraying a slight nervousness. ‘Maybe ’tis a trick, perhaps they won’t come?’

  The Marlfox leader’s teeth gleamed in the darkness. He kicked the bundle containing Dwopple, who had been fed a potion of herbs to keep him in a drugged sleep. ‘Oh, they’ll come, take my word on it. Those Abbeybeasts are far too honest and dull to risk any tricks. This mousebabe is their main concern. Being the virtuous fools they are, they’ll expect us to play by their rules and return the babe in exchange for a few trinkets. Oafs! They’ll learn that dealing with Marlfoxes is like trying to hold a pawful of smoke.’

  Log a Log stood with his Guosim shrews, well hidden by the bushy southeast fringe of Mossflower. Dodging from fern clump to long grass, the scout Bargle arrived and nodded over towards the ditch. ‘Vermin are still there, Chief, they ain’t made a move back or for’ard. Couldn’t get close enough to ’ear wot they was sayin’.’

  The shrew Chieftain peered through the night towards the ditch. ‘It doesn’t make any difference, mate. We never came to chat with ’em!’

  Bargle pawed his rapier hilt thoughtfully. ‘Y’know, they don’t know we’re ’ere, but we know exac’ly where they are. May’ap ‘twouldn’t be a bad idea t’sneak up be’ind ’em an’ pick off a few to thin their ranks, eh?’

  Log a Log sighed regretfully. ‘I was thinkin’ the same thing meself, matey, but we’d best stick t’the plan an’ wait for the signal.’

  Bargle was weighing the land up. ‘That’s a fair distance to charge, from ’ere across open ground to the sou’ west wallcorner. We could become targets in plain view.’r />
  Log a Log ruffled his scout’s ears fondly. ‘Then we’ll just ’ave t’spread out an’ duck’n’weave.’

  ‘Aye, an’ get ourselves killed fer creatures who ain’t even shrews!’

  Log a Log turned to the speaker. ‘I knowed it wouldn’t take long fer you to pipe up, Fenno. When all this is over me’n’you are goin’ t’take a stroll in the forest, outside where we won’t be abusin’ Redwall’s rules.’

  Fenno glared at the smaller and older figure. ‘I’ll look forward to it. I’m sick o’ you pushin’ me around!’

  Log a Log’s paw shot out and dragged Fenno forward by his ear. ‘So be it, but until then y’can stay in front where I can see yer. I don’t want you be’ind me when the action starts!’

  Dann, Song and Dippler watched as Sister Sloey and Brother Melilot guided elders and Dibbuns downstairs to the wine cellars. Melilot waved to them from the stairwell. ‘They’re all accounted for, you can leave them to us now.’

  Song saluted him with her greenstone-tipped stick. ‘Thanks, Brother. We’ll be up here if you need us.’

  Dippler crossed Great Hall to where the main party were assembled. Skipper hid a smile as the small chainmail-laden figure trundled up. ‘Yer a fearsome sight, matey. Now don’t forget an’ bar the door soon as we leave, an’ don’t lift that bar to anybeast except us when we gets back. Clear?’

  Dippler tried a fancy salute and almost tripped over the huge halberd he was toting. ‘Clear, Skip. I won’t even let an ant pass!’

  Cregga placed her paw on the wonderful tapestry, touching the spot where stood the likeness of Martin the Warrior. ‘Guide us to victory this night and let us bring the mousebabe back to Redwall unharmed. Rusvul, Janglur, lead on.’

  They passed through the main wallgate, treading carefully to stop the weapons clanking in their sacks. Friar Butty and Nutwing held the gates open, wishing the rescuers good luck as they went.

  ‘Let’s hope all goes well, Tragglo!’

  ‘Oh, it’ll be all right. Just make sure you stay awake, Nutwing.’