Skipper shouldered Tragglo Spearback, regardless of his spikes. ‘Mister Florian’s right, mates. Come on, let’s git inside. There’ll be elders an’ young ’uns waitin’ t’hear whether we won or not.’
Emerging from the cloud shadow, a pale moon cast its soft radiance over the dusty path at Redwall’s southwest corner, where so much had been won and lost that night.
* * *
13
Song felt a cool damp cloth bathing her brow as Grandma Ellayo soothed away at the red-hot hammers of pain pounding inside her temples. From somewhere above she could hear her mother’s worried voice calling her back to consciousness.
Gradually her eyelids flickered open. She was lying on the floor of Great Hall with her head resting on Rimrose’s lap. Janglur hovered anxiously in the background, pacing to and fro. When she spoke, Song’s voice came from far off, as if it belonged to some other creature. ‘Unnhhh! Marlfoxes . . . where are they . . . Nutwing!’
Janglur breathed a sigh of relief. He knelt by his daughter. ‘My liddle Songbreeze, thank the seasons you got a head as ’ard as yore ole dad’s!’
Groggily Song allowed herself to be led to a chair. She sipped a potion which Sister Sloey pressed upon her, gazing over the beaker rim at her two friends. Dippler’s head was swathed in bandages, and Foremole Gubbio was showing the dazed Guosim shrew a massive dent in the big helmet he had been wearing.
‘Hurr hurr, maister, you’m lucky yon ’emlet saved ee. Yore ’ead was loik to ’ave bin sliced in two. Burr aye!’
Dippler touched his bandaged pate gingerly. ‘Ooh! It feels like this ’ere lump is another ’ead growin’ atop my own. Aye aye, Song, you awake at last? Where’s Dann?’
The young squirrel was sitting hunched on a form, bent forward as Brother Melilot tended an ugly swelling at the back of his head. He winced silently as a compress was applied. The good Brother finished binding the damp herbs and patted Dann. ‘Pity ’tisn’t winter. Ice would have worked well on that bump, but there you are, Dann, good as new. You’ll live, young ’un!’
Dann stood shakily and stared about, seemingly unable to remember. ‘Phew! I feel terrible. What happened?’
Rusvul pushed aside two helpers who were dressing the wound in his side. Pulling himself upright on his javelin, the warrior squirrel glared contemptuously at his son. ‘What happened? I’ll tell yer wot happened! You were left to guard the Abbey an’ you let yoreself get knocked silly by a couple o’ vermin! Nutwing was slain, aye, an’ the great Redwall tapestry was stolen from the wall, that’s wot happened! Were you playin’ more games, solvin’ puzzles, was it? No, ’twas crackin’ nuts, I see by the shells all over the floor. Well, while you were doin’ that the foebeast got in ’ere, cracked yore nut, murdered an Abbeybird an’ robbed the very symbol of Redwall. Call yoreself a Reguba. Hah!’ Quivering with rage, Rusvul snapped his javelin in two pieces and flung them from him, tears of anger glittering in his eyes. ‘I wish that spear’d gone right through an’ slain me, rather than stand ’ere an’ see the Reguba blood shamed by a son o’ mine. Coward!’ Turning his face from Dann, Rusvul limped off, out to the orchard to sit and brood whilst he tended his own injury.
Brother Melilot put a paw about Dann, shaking his head in disgust at Rusvul’s outburst. ‘How could a creature say that about his own son?’
Dann tried to keep his face straight as tears poured unchecked down his cheeks. Janglur hurried across and threw a comforting paw around the young squirrel’s shoulder.
‘Shush now, Dann mate, yore dad didn’t mean it. You couldn’t ‘ave done any more’n you did, all three of yer!’
The Guosim shrew Mayon marched in and threw a salute to Bargle, who was acting temporary Log a Log. ‘They left by the east wallgate, Chief. I made shore it was all locked an’ secure. Ahoy there, Dipp! Still alive, eh, mate?’
Dippler smiled sheepishly and held up his battered headgear. ‘Aye, but they killed this ‘elmet. Was there any sign of ’em, Mayon?’
The shrew poured himself a beaker of October Ale and blew off the froth before drinking. ‘No, not a hair. They’re long gone. All’s quiet out there now, ‘cept for mister Florian an’ the others. They’re puttin’ our lost ones t’rest all together, just by the sou’west wallcorner inside the Abbey grounds. ‘Tis a sad business, mates, very sad!’
Dippler looked away, scrubbing at his eyes with a spare bandage. ‘Ah, poor Nutwing. If only we’d been faster . . .’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ said Mayon. ‘Three young ones against that evil scum – you didn’t stand a chance. And you’ve heard that Log a Log is gone?’
‘The Log a Log was like a father t’me. That ole shrew’ll live fer ever in my memory. Wish I could get me paws on the vermin who slayed ‘im. I’d make the scum pay, matey!’
Bargle looked up, surprised that Dippler did not know the truth. “Tweren’t no vermin that killed Log a Log. He never made it as far as the battle, Dipp. The scum that murdered ‘im was Fenno. We found that’n’s rapier buried in the Chief’s back!’
Despite his injury the young shrew’s teeth ground together hard. ‘Fenno, that big bully, where is ’e?’
Bargle accepted the beaker from Mayon and took a swig. ‘Nobeast knows. Fenno ran off like the slime that the is.’
Dippler drew his rapier and licked the blade as a true Guosim warrior does before making a solemn oath. ‘Then I’ll find Fenno someday, an’ when I do this blade’ll be wetted with somethin’ else. My name is Dippler an’ my word is as true as my sword!’
Gurrbowl Cellarmole came bustling down from the dormitories, shaking her head as she counted off bedspaces for the wounded on both paws. ‘You young ’uns, Dannflo’, Dippler an’ miz Songer, you’m all in marm Cregga’s room whoile she’m a-layin’ in ee gate’ouse. Though, dearie oi, oi doan’t know ’ow she’s goin’ to go on when she yurrs about poor Nutwing.’
Song’s mother took charge. ‘Right. Come on, you three, upstairs with you and rest those heads.’
Janglur took a stroll out to the orchard where he seated himself beneath a pear tree, next to Rusvul. ‘So, me ole mate, you reckon yore son shamed the name Reguba?’
Rusvul stared straight ahead into the moonshadowed stillness. ‘Well, what d’you think?’
Reaching up, Janglur plucked a pear and rubbed it on his jerkin. ‘For wot ’tis worth, I think yore a great warrior, strong in paw an’ brave in war. We carved a few paths in our younger seasons, you’n’me; we’re still good pals an’ always will be. But let me say this t’you, Rusvul Reguba. I never knew you was a foolish beast until tonight. Our young ’uns are the hope o’ the future. They need t’be ’elped, not ’umiliated. It took no bravery to call Dann a coward – he loves you too much to answer back. So all you did was to bring shame on yoreself by the way you talked to Dann. No, don’t answer or argue, jus’ think about it, matey. An’ that’s the advice of a friend.’ Without further comment Janglur Swifteye arose and walked off, leaving Rusvul to wrestle with the problems of his own stubbornness.
The three friends lay on Cregga Badgermum’s big sofa. All three felt terrible about Nutwing. Dann felt it most. It was clear his father’s onslaught had hurt him deeply. They sat awhile in silence, heads still throbbing, unable to sleep. Dann’s eyes wandered to the sword of Martin the Warrior hanging upon the wall, and suddenly he sat bolt upright.
‘Yes! Now I remember!’
Dippler cringed, putting paws to his ears. ‘Well, you don’t ’ave t’shout about it, mate. Wot d’you remember?’
Dann got up and went to the sword, as if drawn to it by a magnet. ‘When I was knocked senseless, he spoke to me, Martin the Warrior!’
Song was curious. She watched Dann attentively. ‘Well, don’t stand there gawping at the sword, tell us. What did he say to you?’
Dann automatically spoke the words triggered by the sight of the marvellous blade which Martin had once wielded.
‘Four Chieftains going forth,
To bring back Redwa
ll’s heart,
Vengeance, honour, friendship,
Each will play their part.
The flower bears my blade,
And greenstick, Warrior’s daughter,
Join with the shortsword bearer,
And one who lives by water.
Before the herald lark,
Ere night’s last teardrop falls,
With none to bid you fond farewell,
Go! Leave these old red walls.’
Dippler stared at his two friends. ‘Sounds great, but what does it mean?’
Song shook her head in despair at the young shrew. ‘Honestly, Dipp, you’re the blinkin’ limit. It means we three are going to go out there and bring back the tapestry!’
Dippler thought about this a moment. ‘But we’re not four Chieftains?’
The pretty squirrelmaid shrugged. ‘Well, I can’t help that. If Martin has spoken we must obey. Though you’re right, Dipp, there are one or two things about the verse that puzzle me. For instance, Dann said, the flower bears my blade. Who in the name of acorns is the flower?’
‘Well, don’t go shoutin’ it all around the Abbey, but it’s me.’
Song stifled a giggle at Dann’s reluctant confession. ‘You? I never knew you were called flower?’
Dann looked defiant. ‘’Twas my mother’s idea. Dad wanted me named Dannblood, said it was a proper warrior’s name, but Mum wouldn’t hear of it, she insisted I be called Dannflower. So that’s my real name, but Dad an’ me shortened it to Dannflor after my mother died. Well, Song, you carry the greenstick an’ yore a warrior’s daughter. Dipp, you got the rapier, that’s a shortsword, so that’s the three of us, even though we ain’t Chieftains. Who the fourth is, the one who lives by water, huh, who knows? But ’tis plain we three must go!’
Dippler brightened up as the poem’s meaning began to sink in. ‘Aye, Redwall’s heart is the tapestry. I understand now, mates. We’ve got to leave the Abbey before dawn!’
Song interrupted the young Guosim excitedly. ‘Of course! Listen, here’s the first few lines from an old song, one of the first I ever learned, called “Daybreak”.
‘Before the herald lark,
Ere night’s last teardrop falls,
Like dewdrop from a rose,
The rising Minstrel calls . . .
‘That’s the first bit. Oh dear, I wonder why we’ve got to go with none to bid us farewell?’
Dann snorted mirthlessly at his friend’s innocence. ‘’Tis obvious. ’Cos they’d stop us, that’s why. Huh, imagine my father, he’d say we were off to play some silly games. Then there’s yore mum’n’dad an’ Grandma Ellayo – d’you think they’d be pleased to see you wanderin’ off into a woodland full o’ water rats, Marlfoxes an’ who knows wot else?’
Song nodded ruefully. ‘They’d stop us for sure!’
Dann reached up carefully and took down the sword from its pins on the wall. Martin the Warrior’s weapon felt like wildfire in his paws. He held the black-bound grip with its red pommel stone and crosstree hilt, feeling the perfect balance of the lethally sharp blade. Double-edged, strangely chased and patterned down to the perilous tip, keen as an icicle honed by midwinter gales.
Song and Dippler touched their paws to the sword as Dann’s voice sounded firm and resolute. ‘We bring the tapestry back to Redwall Abbey!’
Dippler looked from one to the other. ‘An’ if I can I’ll avenge my Chieftain Log a Log!’
Song smiled at them both. ‘I go with you because you are my friends!’
Dann picked up a broad old belt from the shelf and fastened it across one shoulder to his waistbelt. He thrust the sword through the broad belt, so that it was flat across his back, the hilt showing above his other shoulder.
‘Well, what are we waitin’ for, mates? ’Twill be dawn soon. Come on!’
ACT TWO
* * *
Four Chieftains Going Forth
* * *
14
Camouflaged by the morning suntinged leaves of a horse chestnut tree, the Marlfox Mokkan sat in a fork amid the high branches, watching the scene below on the streambank, listening carefully to all that was said. He was cunning and highly intelligent, always cautious to know which way the wind was blowing among his brothers and sisters. Accordingly Mokkan had made it back to the camp shortly after dawn, and finding that he was first to return he hid in the tree and watched the reactions as the rest filtered back to the camp in small groups. First to arrive were Ascrod and Vannan with the rats Dakkle and Beelu. They draped the tapestry over some bushes, prepared a scratch meal and sat back to gloat over their plunder. Predak the vixen came next, heading a group of rats, followed by her brother Gelltor at the head of a second band. Cooking fires were lit, and some prepared food whilst others tended their wounds. By the time the sun was fully up the final few had returned. Ascrod and Vannan with their two rats were the stars of the day, proudly showing off the wondrous tapestry.
‘How’s that for a nice bit o’ thievin’, eh?’
‘Aye, we were right inside that Abbey for a good while, wounded three, killed one, an’ trotted off with this beauty!’
‘Pity we never had time for a proper look around. I reckon Redwall’s stuffed with treasures.’
‘They’re not so tough. I slew a big owl, stupid creature!’
‘Huh, the three we laid out are prob’ly dead by now too. I whacked a shrew wearin’ armour so hard that my axe paw still tingles.’
Ascrod stood over Gelltor, smiling whimsically. ‘So, how did the attack go? Not too well by the look of you lot.’
Gelltor flexed his shoulder to get the movement back in it. Grim-faced, he spat viciously into the fire. ‘Allag, what’s the head count?’
Further down the streambank the water rat called back to Gelltor. ‘A hundred an’ seventy-three, sire. I’m just numberin’ the wounded.’
Gelltor lay back, watching the blue-grey campfire smoke wreathing among the shafts of sunlight between the trees. ‘That’s nearly a score of rats lost. Then there was Ziral too!’
Vannan tossed aside her food and stood upright. ‘What? You mean our sister Ziral was slain?’
‘Oh, she was slain sure enough. I saw her head lyin’ on the ground. The one who did it was a big squirrel, looked as if he was half asleep. Janglur, they called him. I’ll remember that one’s name!’
Ascrod stroked the tasselled tapestry border thoughtfully. ‘A Marlfox slain. High Queen Silth won’t be well pleased to hear that. What about our glorious leader Mokkan and his grand plan?’
Gelltor kicked a branch hanging from the fire, sending sparks showering as the dead pine crackled. ‘Mokkan! Don’t talk t’me about him. He left it too late for a quick ambush, wanted to stand round chattin’ with the Redwallers. It was them who attacked us. There’s no doubt about it, they got some fierce warriors an’ they were quick too. For a while there we thought we had ’em, they were outnumbered. But then we were hit from behind by gangs of those Guosim shrews, don’t know where they came from. That was when we lost the advantage. Next thing Mokkan’s yelling for everybeast to retreat, and we had to run for it like a ragtailed bunch of amateurs. I’m not surprised Mokkan hasn’t shown his face around camp yet. Bungler!’
As Gelltor finished speaking, Mokkan hobbled into camp, bent almost double and limping badly, his face creased with pain. He held up a paw for silence before any creature could speak further. ‘All right, all right, ’twas all my fault. I messed it up, by taking those Redwallers for fools, which they weren’t. But hear me! You all fought a gallant fight. I couldn’t ask for braver beasts in my command, particularly you, brother Gelltor, and you, sister Predak . . .’ Here he paused for effect, shaking his head sadly. ‘And our dear sister Ziral, so treacherously slain after I had called retreat. How can I go back to our mother Queen Silth and tell her that poor Ziral is with us no more? Gelltor, you were right, brother. I should have listened to you.’
The Marlfoxes were slightly bewildered. Mokkan had never s
poken like this before, but had always been arrogant and imperious. Vannan tapped the handle of her axe against the tapestry. ‘It wasn’t a total loss. Look what we took from the Abbey.’
Mokkan had been looking at the thing for over an hour from the tree limb. But he put on an expression of awed astonishment and approached the object reverently. ‘You stole this? Wondrous, beautiful, it must be beyond price! Well, congratulations to you. Our mother will be overjoyed to see such a splendid and magnificent prize. At least poor Ziral didn’t give her life in vain. But remember what she said here only a day ago. Blood calls for blood. It is the code of Marlfoxes, our law. Redwall and its creatures must pay dearly for our sister!’
Gelltor drew his axe and brandished it in Mokkan’s face. ‘Like I said at first, we should have gone to war!’
Mokkan sat down by the fire with agonizing slowness, biting his lip. ‘Aye, brother, you were right, I was the fool. Now I am sorely wounded and unfit to lead. Leave a few good rats here with me so that we may guard your plunder. I need rest, I may never walk again with these injuries. Split our forces up between the four of you and take vengeance upon those Redwall scum. Go quickly, before they become confident and begin combing the woodlands for our blood. Surround Redwall Abbey, kill them one by one, with the cunning that is the pawmark of a Marlfox. Snipe at them, starve them by keeping them penned up inside their Abbey, make them prisoners inside their own home!’
Gelltor’s eyes lit up, fired by plans of conquest. ‘We’ll besiege them until they crawl out begging to be spared! Then I’ll execute the one that wounded me and we’ll take revenge on the squirrel Janglur for Ziral’s death. Those whom we spare can be dragged back to our island in chains, to serve us!’
Mokkan clasped his brother’s paw with feigned fervour. ‘Ah, ever the wise warrior, Gelltor. But you must hurry and set up your siege whilst they are unaware of your brilliant plan!’
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 13
