Marlfox (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  ‘Hmm mm, stay awake yourself. You’ll need your wits about you out there tonight.’

  ‘Aye, we will that. See you later, eh, Friar.’

  ‘I certainly hope so, my friend, with all my heart!’

  Standing out on the path the old squirrel Recorder and his owl companion watched the procession start south down the path. They did not even feel the draught from the swirling cloaks of Ascrod and Vannan as the two Marlfoxes, accompanied by the rats Dakkle and Beelu, slipped into Redwall like four dark wraiths. From the shadows of the wallsteps the vermin intruders watched whilset Butty and Nutwing secured the gates, chunnering away at each other as old friends always do.

  ‘Come on, you ancient featherbag, lift your end of the bar!’

  ‘Hmm mm, I am lifting. Phwaw! This bar gets heavier every day. Are you sure you’re lifting your end, old bushtail?’

  ‘Of course I am! Right, hup, two, three! There, that does it. What’s the matter now? You’ve got a face on you like a squashed pie.’

  ‘Hmm mm, got something sticking in my leg.’

  ‘Let me see. Oh, ’tis only a splinter. Come in the gatehouse and I’ll get it out. Stop hoppin’ about like a one-legged duck!’

  ‘Hmm. Only a splinter, he says. Feels more like a log to me!’

  The trespassers waited until the gatehouse door closed before making their way across the silent lawns towards the Abbey.

  Cregga was not too familiar with the outside path, and allowed Skipper to guide her towards the southwest corner where the rendezvous was to take place. ‘Are they there as they said they’d be, Skip?’

  Rusvul’s voice murmured low to one side of Cregga. ‘I see the scum. They’re lyin’ in the ditch, speartops pokin’ up.’

  Janglur’s eyes shifted under their heavy lids. ‘Right, mate, I sees them meself now. There’s that Marlfox climbin’ out, two rats be’ind him. They’re carryin’ somethin’, looks like the mousebabe done up in a sack.’

  The Redwallers halted at the southwest corner. As Mokkan walked forward the other three Marlfoxes led the water rats out of the ditch in a pincer movement to form a semicircle in front of the Redwallers, standing with their backs to the wall. Janglur nodded curtly to Mokkan. ‘Well, fox, got a liddle ’un with yer?’

  At a signal from Mokkan two rats dumped the sack containing Dwopple in front of the Marlfox. He placed a footpaw on it. ‘He’s right here. Brought the valuables with you?’

  Janglur indicated the Redwallers bearing the curtain bags. ‘We’ve brought ’em, but y’don’t get to see one trinket until you show us the mousebabe unharmed.’

  Mokkan smiled thinly and bowed slightly to his adversary. ‘My compliments, you show good sense. Show them the mousebabe.’

  One of the water rats sprang forward and slit the sack expertly with a small thin dagger. Baby Dwopple rolled out, curled in a ball and snoring uproariously. Mokkan pointed at the curtain bags. ‘Now let’s see the ransom!’

  Janglur winked at Rusvul. ‘Open ’er up, mate!’

  Between them the two squirrel warriors ripped aside the ties on the bag of trinkets they were carrying, smashing it in the faces of Mokkan and his companions with a mighty roar.

  ‘Redwaaaaaaallll!’

  Then the action began at an alarming rate.

  Skipper hurled himself headlong at the ground, snatching Dwopple and laying flat two rats with flailing footpaws and thwacking tailrudder. Redwallers tore open the bags of weapons and went straight at it. Skipper placed Dwopple in the paws of Cregga, and between them they battled their way through a sea of water rats, regardless of slashing blades and stabbing spears. Cregga, who had once been the mightiest of badger Warriors, roared like thunder splitting the skies. With Dwopple’s tunic gripped in her teeth she lashed out with both paws, ripping, wounding and slaying everybeast that came within the range of her frightening destructive power, snapping spears like matchwood and bending blades like green twigs. Tragglo Spearback had a large bunghammer, which he swung with both paws, and the rest grabbed what they could, yelling wildly.

  ‘Redwaaaaaaallll! Blood’n’vinegaaaaaar!’

  Marlfox axes slashed the air and spears bristled in the night as the vermin pressed in. Anybeast unfortunate enough to fall was trampled flat in the mêlée. Though they were heavily outnumbered, the Noonvale Troupe were giving a splendid account of themselves. Florian had formed them into a tight circle. Standing at its centre wielding a long grass rake, dealing out devastating blows over the heads of his companions to the rats who pressed them in on all sides, the lanky hare boomed out his challenge. ‘C’mon, babe-stealers, try me for size, wot! I’m the son of the rip-snortin’ rat-tippin’ Wilffachop, try stealin’ me away in a sack an’ I’ll peel your hides to th’bone an’ feed y’to each other!’

  As soon as he heard the warcry of Redwall being shouted over by the southwest corner, Log a Log drew his rapier and roared out the battle call of the Guosim shrews.

  ‘Logalogalogalogaloooooog! Chaaaaarge!’

  The shrews took off at a dead run across the open land, whirling slings and slashing the air with their short rapiers. Gripped by the heat of the charge, Log a Log sped past Fenno, who had conveniently stumbled and tripped. The brave shrew Chieftain had made a fatal error, and the coward seized his chance. Jumping up, he threw his rapier like a spear, straight into the unprotected back of his Chief.

  Log a Log staggered on a few paces then fell, unnoticed in the night by the other shrews who were running eagerly into battle. Sudden panic at the ruthless murder he had committed gripped Fenno. Turning, he fled back into the cover of Mossflower Wood.

  Meanwhile, Skipper pounded on the main Abbey wallgate, calling urgently to the gatekeepers. ‘Open up, mates, we got the liddle ’un. Hurry now, Cregga marm’s wounded!’

  It took a moment or two for Butty and Nutwing to lift the heavy crossbeam out of its holders, then the gates creaked open. Skipper pushed Cregga and Dwopple inside, baring his teeth in a ferocious grin at the two elders. ‘Take care of ’em. I’m off back to the fightin’!’

  Mokkan knew that his side had the upper paw. Triumphantly he was shouting orders to his Marlfoxes. ‘Predak, keep ’em pinned to the wall! Gelltor, attack those two squirrel warriors, keep them busy. Ziral, take more rats, stop that hare and his creatures breaking through the cordon!’ Swinging his double-headed axe, Mokkan pressed forward savagely, fully intent on inflicting total retribution on the Redwallers, whose courageous but foolish ruse had gone awry.

  * * *

  12

  The water rat, Beelu, stood on the lawn at the back of Redwall Abbey. His keen eyes soon spotted what he was after, a small dormitory window, below which was a protuberance in the shape of a gargoyle head carved on to a thick spur of sandstone. Beelu unwound a plaited hide rope from round his waist, freeing the three-pronged grapnel hook hanging from it. The water rat gave the tough thin rope a few swings, paying it out as he whirled the grapnel in a wide circle. When he was ready, he released the rope at the crucial point, allowing the hook to soar upward and latch over the gargoyle with a dull clank of metal striking stone. Beelu stood stock still and waited for several moments, listening intently. When he was sure nobeast had heard the noise he began to climb swiftly, hauling himself up, paw over paw, with both footpaws braced firmly against the wall. Once up to the window he chose a tiny pane. Opening his belt pouch, he drew forth a piece of bark, plastered with a thick compound of honey and soil, which he stuck to the window pane. There was virtually no sound as he dealt the bark a sharp tap with his dagger handle, but still he paused and waited. After a short time he peeled the bark from the thin glass, shards of broken window sticking to it like crystal. Cautiously the rat loosened more broken pieces from the pane, dropping them to the grass below. When he had enough space to work, Beelu put his paw through the hole he had made and undid the catch. A moment later he was inside the Abbey and on the dormitory staircase.

  Dippler sat in the big ornate chair which had been used by all th
e Abbots and Abbesses of Redwall. The young shrew impudently placed both footpaws on the table and leaned back, lifting the visor of his heavy crested helmet. ‘Wonder ’ow ’tis goin’ out at the southwest corner?’

  Dann had his old copper helmet full of hazelnuts, which he was lining up on the floorstones and cracking with light taps of his spearbutt. He winked confidently at the shrew. ‘I’ll wager those Marlfoxes an’ their water rats are sorry they ever captured Dwopple. Our side’ll be givin’ ’em blood’n’vinegar an’ their own tails for supper. What d’you think, Song?’

  The young squirrel was standing in front of the tapestry, admiring the heroic figure of Martin the Warrior. ‘Oh, there’s no doubt that the vermin are on to a good hiding and a lesson they won’t forget. With warriors like your father an’ mine, an’ Skipper, we can’t lose. Just look at this picture of Martin. I’ll wager he could have cleared the lot up single-pawed!’

  Dann stooped to gather the hazelnuts. ‘Nobeast could stand against Martin. D’you know, his sword hangs in Cregga Badgermum’s room? Funny, though. The elders say that he often appears in dreams to Redwallers, to give advice and warn us if the Abbey’s in danger. Wonder why he never appeared this time?’

  Dippler tried unsuccessfully to straighten the rusty fold of his chainmail as he sprawled in the big chair. ‘Oh, I suppose Martin knows we can take care of ourselves. Don’t forget, besides yore fathers there’s my Chieftain Log a Log an’ a fewscore o’ Guosim fighters t’deal with. What’s that?’

  Song turned from the tapestry. ‘What’s the matter, Dipp?’

  ‘Did you ’ear a noise?’

  Dann tossed a hazelnut and caught it in his mouth. ‘No. What sort o’ noise was it?’

  Dippler struggled out of the big chair. ‘Sort of like a clanky sound.’

  Song stole a pawful of Dann’s hazelnut kernels. ‘Hahaha! That’d be yourself, Dipp. You make clanky sounds every time y’move in all that old armour!’

  Beelu passed by the three young friends, hugging the shadows at the north end of Great Hall. When he reached the Abbey door he stood still awhile. Song and her companions had their backs to him, but there was no sense in taking chances. Pulling a small flask of vegetable oil from his pouch he dripped it on to the bolts and hinges, and then, ever cautious, he gave it another couple of moments, listening to the gossip and laughter of the three youngsters out at the hall’s centre. The locks slid back smoothly, with scarce a sound or scrape. Beelu held his breath as he swung the door slowly open to admit the two Marlfoxes, Ascrod and Vannan, who had been waiting outside with the other rat Dakkle. Beelu placed a paw on his lips, indicating the three youngsters who had been left to guard the Abbey. Dakkle nodded, but Ascrod and Vannan were not paying any attention to Beelu. Their eyes were riveted on the wondrous tapestry which graced the west wall.

  Friar Butty inspected the ugly gashes which had slashed through Cregga’s paws when she had been grabbing sword and spearblades. He dabbed at them with a cloth which he was dipping in a water pail. ‘Be still now, marm, please. You’ll have to stay here in the gatehouse awhile yet. There’s no question of moving you, I’m afraid.’

  Nutwing spread a curtain across the mousebabe, who was still snoring in the armchair. ‘Hmm mm. Been given lots of motherwort and a smidgen of valerian, I suspect. He’ll probably sleep a good while. Mm, nasty! It looks like our badger has lost an ear.’

  Friar Butty took a peek, drawing in his breath sharply. ‘Great seasons, so she has, and will you look at this broken arrowhead sunk into her shoulder near the neck? Gracious me, Cregga marm, didn’t it hurt you at the time?’

  Spread out on the couch the huge badger snorted wearily. ‘I never felt a thing. In the old days, when I could see, they called me Cregga Rose Eyes, you know. My rage was so great in battle that nothing could stop me. I was possessed by a thing called the Bloodwrath, like most badger Warriors.’

  The Friar shook his head worriedly. ‘I’ll have to go up to the Abbey. ’Twill take Sister Sloey’s herb satchel, sewing twine and clean dressings to patch you up right. Now stay there and don’t move!’

  Nutwing ambled out of the gatehouse, muttering as he went. ‘I’ll go, hmm, mm, I can still flap these stiff old wings a bit. You stay here, Butty, in case anybeast of ours comes knocking on the gate. I won’t be long!’

  The old owl hopped and flapped, sometimes touching the ground, other times with the grasstops brushing his talons. Faintly upon the night air he could hear the sounds of conflict from over the outer wall at the southwest corner. Surprised to find the main Abbey door half open, he shuffled in, blinking his eyes against the lantern and candle lights, and walked straight into the backs of Dakkle and Beelu. Still blinking, he called out, ‘Hmm mm, who’s there? Is that Melilot?’

  ‘Nutwing! Look out! Get away!’

  At the sound of the owl’s voice Song had looked up. She saw the four vermin in plain view, creeping towards them. Ascrod grabbed Nutwing. Using the flapping owl as a shield, he and his cohorts rushed the three young guards.

  Song was dashing towards the Marlfoxes, her greenstone stick raised. Dann and Dippler seized their spears and charged after her. Dippler’s helmet fell over his eyes, and the monstrous halberd he was lugging slipped sideways. Both he and Dann tripped on the shaft and went sprawling on the floor. Song was almost upon the Marlfoxes, her eyes glinting with the light of battle. Ascrod swung his double-headed axe, slaying Nutwing with a single blow. He pushed the owl’s still flapping body at Song, bringing her down. The young squirrel’s scream of horror was cut short as the axe handle cracked down on her head. Vannan and the two rats were upon Dann and Dippler before they could rise. Vannan’s axe crashed down on the young shrew’s helmet, leaving a long dent in it. Dann struggled to get up but both rats jumped on him, cracking his head back hard upon the floorstones.

  Ascrod sped across to the tapestry and began pulling it from the wall. A hubbub came from somewhere below, and the Marlfoxes heard the sounds of Redwallers on the wine cellar stairs. Vannan glanced about at the three fallen friends. ‘What about these? Shall I finish ’em off?’

  Ascrod had pulled a chair across to the tapestry so he could reach the top hooks that held it to the wall. He snarled at his sister. ‘Idiot, what concern are they to us? This is the most valuable thing we’ve come on in many a season. Help me with it. Beelu, get outside and open the small east wallgate. Dakkle, lend a paw over here. Move, you fools, those Abbeybeasts will be on our heels in a moment. Hurry!’

  At the southwest corner the fortunes of war had changed. Mokkan fought his way back through his own ranks until he was close to the ditch. It was the Guosim shrews who had saved the day. Charging wildly in at the rear of their foes’ left flank, they swept all before them. As the enemy turned to intercept the Guosim attack, Skipper, Janglur and Rusvul led a push away from the wall into the ranks of the water rats. Mokkan was shouting now, realizing he had lost. ‘Retreat! Get across the ditch onto the flatlands! Retreat!’

  Rusvul went down with a spear in his side, but Janglur stood over him, swinging his loaded sling. Rusvul was half up when he cried out, ‘Behind yer, mate, quick!’

  Janglur spun like lightning, his whirling sling wrapping itself around the handle of the killing axe that the vixen Ziral was swinging at his head. He pulled sharply, dragging the short double-headed axe from her paws. Quick as a flash, the warrior squirrel caught the axe and swung at Ziral with all his might. That single blow finished the battle completely. The water rats who saw the beheaded Ziral lying on the path set up a wailing scream.

  ‘A Marlfox is slain! A Marlfox is slaaaaaaiiiiinnn!’

  In the blink of an eye the remaining Marlfoxes and water rats had abandoned the fight, leaping over the ditch and dashing headlong across the flatlands. Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop waved his garden rake and started after the routed enemy, haranguing loudly. ‘Villains! Fiends! Pollywogglin’ babe-snatchers! You shall feel our wrath, we will pursue you to the very cracks of doom! Come on, you chaps.
Chaaaaaarge!’

  Skipper grabbed Florian’s frock-coat tails and hauled him back. ‘Leave it, matey, they still outnumber us two t’one. Let ’em go. We got our own to tend back ’ere.’

  Victory over the foebeast had been won, but at a terrible price. The Noonvale otter Borrakul sat wounded, cradling Elachim’s head in his lap, repeating over and over, ‘My brother won’t wake up. Wake up, Elachim, please!’

  Runktipp took the slain otter gently from his grieving brother. ‘He ain’t goin’ t’wake up, friend Borrakul. Leave ’im t’me.’

  Janglur hauled Rusvul upright and supported him. ‘You all right, cully? That’s a spear you got growin’ out o’ yore side!’

  Rusvul gasped and winced as Janglur removed the weapon. ‘Never went in too deep. I’ll live, mate. But that’s more’n I can say for some who weren’t so lucky!’

  Skipper stooped over Tragglo Spearback, patting the Cellarhog’s face and talking gently to him. ‘Tragg, come on, ole lad, don’t go sleepin’ there. We’ll get y’back ’ome to a nice soft bed. Wake up now.’

  The old hedgehog’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled weakly. ‘Slingshot. Must o’ been a bit o’ metal. It’s still stuck in my ’ead.’

  A heart-piercing cry came from out on the open ground to the south.

  ‘Logalogalogalogalog! Our Chieftain’s doooooown!’

  Florian, who was helping Runktipp to carry Elachim’s body, looked round at the sound of the voice. ‘Wot’n the name o’ seasons is that?’

  The Guosim shrew Mayon strode up, ashen-faced. ‘’Tis the Guosim death cry. Log a Log is slain. Bargle found ’im.’

  Surprisingly enough it was Florian who restored order and got things moving. ‘Now there’s been terrible battle done here this night, y’know, chaps, but we must attend the livin’ first. Right, pick up the wounded an’ let’s get ’em inside the Abbey. When that’s taken jolly good care of I’ll organize a party to return for our fallen comrades. Come on now, please, can’t sit about here weepin’ all night, wot?’