Within a short time the army was ready to march again, each of the Marlfoxes commanding two score water rats apiece, while Mokkan stayed behind to recover and protect the tapestry with a guard comprising the thirteen remaining rats. Mokkan lay back as if he had fainted away, listening keenly to Vannan murmuring instructions to the water rat Beelu. ‘I leave you here to guard our prize with your life. If Mokkan recovers and tries anything odd, you must hide the tapestry and make your way to Redwall, where you will report to me only!’
As the army marched out of camp, Mokkan turned on his side, chuckling under his breath. ‘Never trust a vixen.’
It was close to noontide when Song called a halt at a shady glade in the Mossflower depths. ‘This looks like a good spot for our lunch. There’s some fat juicy berries on those blackberry brambles round the dead oak.’
Dippler unshouldered the pack he had loaded from the kitchens. ‘Lunch? What ’appened to brekkfist, miss? An’ jus’ one other thing, when d’we sleep? Last time I closed me lids was when I was knocked unconscious. We missed a full night’s shut-eye, y’know!’
Song threw her haversack down and began picking blackberries. ‘Oh, give your little face a rest, Dipp, stop moaning!’
Dann took off his sword and foodpack and sat down gratefully. ‘Dipp’s not moanin’, Song, he’s arguing. Guosim shrews aren’t happy unless they’ve got something to argue about, right, Dipp?’
The young shrew opened his haversack, fishing out three of Brother Melilot’s newbaked scones and a slab of cheese, which he cut into three pieces with his rapier. ‘I’m not arguin’ or moanin’. It’s called debatin’. That’s ‘ow us Guosim get t’be so wise, by debatin’.’
Song aimed a berry at him, but Dippler ducked it. ‘You greedy little hog, I notice you’ve given yourself the biggest slice o’ cheese an’ the largest scone!’
Dippler grinned, popping the blackberry Song had thrown into his mouth. ‘But I need extra vittles, so I can grow big’n’strong’n’stronger, like you two. If I gave you the big bits then you’d both grow bigger’n’stronger an’ I’d be liddle’n’thin!’
Song prodded his small round stomach as she passed. ‘Thin, huh? You’re about as thin as a hedgehog who’s been locked in a larder for two seasons!’
Dann opened a flask of pennycloud cordial. ‘Will you two pack in debatin’ an’ let me have lunch in peace?’
Song watched Dippler split open his scone. He packed the inside with blackberries, closed it and bit into the whole thing so enthusiastically that juice squirted out from either side.
Dann flicked drops of it from his nose. ‘You greedy savage, you’ll never grow any taller, just rounder an’ fatter. Don’t you Guosim have any table manners?’
Dippler shrugged as he crammed cheese into his mouth. ‘Mm mm. Course we don’t, ’cos Guosim never use tables. How’d y’get a table on a logboat? We got shrew manners, though.’
Song wiped her lips daintily on a dockleaf. ‘And what pray are shrew manners?’
Dippler glugged down cordial to clear his voice. ‘Simple, ’tis one o’ the first things a shrewbabe learns. Listen.
‘If you eat too much you’ll sink the boat,
Burst yore boots an’ split yore coat,
Just scoff enough so you stay afloat,
’Tis manners, good manners!
If you pinch the vittles from another’s plate,
Wait till he’s lookin’ the other way, mate,
An’ when fish are bitin’, don’t eat the bait,
’Tis manners, good manners!
If yore a shrew o’ the Guosim clan,
You must be sure to think of a plan,
To share yore matey’s pudden or flan,
’Tis manners, good manners!
Remember to chew everythin’ in sight,
If it don’t bite back, then get first bite,
An’ always take a basinful to bed each night,
’Tis manners, good manners!’
Song was chuckling so hard she nearly choked on a bite of scone. Dann sent Dippler sprawling with a playful shove. ‘Away, you rogue, your mother never taught you that lot!’
Dippler stole a piece of Song’s cheese as he patted her back to restore her breath. He winked cheekily at Dann. ‘I don’t dispute that, mate, I made it up meself!’
‘Ssshh! What’s that? Get down!’
At Dann’s urgent whisper the three friends dropped down behind the fallen oak trunk. There they stayed, silent and motionless, for several moments, after which Song stood up slowly. ‘What was it you heard, Dann?’
The young squirrel rose, turning his head this way and that as he tried to pick up a trace of the sound he had heard. ‘I don’t know, I heard something, but ’tis gone now.’
Not much further out from where the three were sitting, Gelltor, Predak, Ascrod and Vannan passed with the army of water rats, travelling in the opposite direction, towards Redwall Abbey, to begin their assault.
Dippler finished up the remains of any food his friends had not eaten. Dann shouldered his pack and sword, weighing up the woodland surrounding them. ‘Which way now, Song?’
The young squirrelmaid walked to the east end of the glade where they had camped. Using the knowledge her father had passed on during their wanderings, she cast about carefully. ‘This way, I think. The ferns have been disturbed, see, one or two are broken – grass looks flattened too. Ha! Look at this.’
Hanging from a broken hornbeam spur was a strand of red thread. Dippler and Dann studied it as Song voiced her thoughts. ‘That’s from the tapestry. At a guess I’d say it was being carried shoulder high by two or more creatures. See here amid the grass, one of them stumbled on this blackberry creeper and narrowly missed walking into the hornbeam tree, but the heavy roll of tapestry they were carrying snagged on that broken branch. They’ve gone this way.’
Dippler wrapped the thread around his paw. ‘Stupid vermin, they’re leavin’ a trail a blind moth could follow!’
Dann pressed forward, calling back to the shrew. ‘Marlfokes aren’t stupid, Dipp. Y’must remember that they were running with a weighty object, it was still dark, an’ maybe they thought Redwallers might give chase. Stands t’reason they’d want to put as much space between themselves an’ the Abbey as possible.’
Dippler pushed the bushes aside roughly. ‘Murderin’ thieves. They won’t get away from me, matey!’
Song cautioned her friends. ‘I suggest from now on that we keep our voices down, don’t talk unless ’tis necessary, an’ tread quietly. Best not leave a trail – goodness knows who might follow it.’
The vast woodland was unusually still and silent, even the sporadic birdsong sounding as if it came from far away. Moving quietly eastward through the dense undergrowth, Song and her companions became cautious, realizing that behind the beauty of stately trees and summer-flowering bushes, danger might lurk in the shape of the foebeast.
At Redwall Abbey a brief ceremony had been held over the resting place within the southwest wallcorner. Four shrews, Elachim the Noonvale otter, Nutwing and Log a Log were honoured with small gifts, flowers and verses. Friar Butty sighed heavily, wiping his eyes on a spotted kerchief as they walked back to the Abbey, where Deesum and Brother Melilot were preparing lunch. Skipper spoke loud enough for all to hear.
‘When we get time, there’ll be a good stone marker carved for our pore mates back there, so they’ll never be forgot by Redwallers. But fer now, messmates, let’s git back t’the business of livin’ an’ survivin’. Janglur, Borrakul, mister Florian an’ meself will move Cregga Badgermum out o’ the gate’ouse an’ up to ’er room. Bargle, will you an’ yore Guosim guard the walls? Arm yoreselves with slings an’ bows’n’arrers. Runktipp, stow yoreself in the belltower, an’ if the shrews tip y’the signal that vermin are about, be ready to toll the alarm bells. Roop an’ Muggle, will yer be kind enough to ‘elp Gubbio Foremole an’ Sister Sloey check on the wounded.
Sloey fussed with her apron distractedl
y. ‘Oh dear, what with lookin’ after the Dibbuns an’ gettin’ things tidy I almost forgot about our injured ones. Still, a good quiet rest’s what they need most. We’ll take them up some lunch soon as ’tis ready.’
A few minutes later, Florian entered the gatehouse and swept off his big floppy hat with a double flourish at the wounded badger. The friends were determined to cheer Cregga and not let her dwell on her sadness, or her injury.
‘Ahem, marm, ’tis only m’goodself Wilffachop come to inform ye that your carriage waits without!’
Cregga turned her face in his direction. She was not in the best of moods after an uncomfortable night. ‘I know ’tis you, hare, and stop waving that hat about, you’ll disturb the dust an’ have me sneezin’. Now, what’s all this about a carriage outside? D’you think I’m a helpless Dibbun?’
Janglur nudged Skipper gleefully as he popped his head round the door. He announced in a loud officious voice, as if talking to nobeast in particular, ‘One actors’ cart waitin’ to transport a wounded Abbeybeast. Er, is there a passenger in ’ere?’
The big badger struggled upright from the couch, grabbing a broken spearshaft, which she waved threateningly. ‘Just let anybeast try to get me into a rickety actors’ cart an’ I’ll give ’em a headache they won’t get over for ten seasons!’
Janglur clapped a paw to his mouth to stifle laughter, while Skipper called out in a voice dripping with sincerity, ‘Ho, marm, ’ow can you say such things? All’s we’re thinkin’ of is yore ’ealth. After you’ve ’ad a nice ride in the cart we’ll carry you up to yore room an’ let Sister Sloey feed yer on a nourishin’ lunch of ’erb broth an’ elderflower water.’
That was enough for Cregga. A deep rumble of anger burst forth from the mighty badger. Grabbing Florian and lifting him as if he were a babe, she stumped resolutely out of the gatehouse, with the helpless hare protesting volubly.
‘I say, marm, bad form, put me down, wot! Don’t stand there grinnin’ like ticks at a tea party, you chaps, help me!’
Cregga almost walked straight into the cart, which was drawn up just outside the gatehouse door. Feeling its contours with her paw, she dumped Florian unceremoniously into the seat and gave the cart a mighty shove. It flew off across the lawn, with the hare still yelling.
‘Most uncharitable of ye, marm! I’ll make a note of this peevish behaviour, you can jolly well bet I will! Yowch! Heeeeelp!’
His pleas went unheard as Cregga raised a threatening paw at the other helpers. ‘If you’ve got any sense you’ll stay clear o’ me. I’ll walk back to the Abbey alone. Oh, an’ you can tell Sloey if she wants to see another season she’d better not mention herb broth an’ elderflower water while I’m around. I need proper food an’ the comfort of my own room for a day or two!’
Skipper fled past her, tugging Janglur with him. ‘Put a move on, matey. Dann an’ Dippler an’ yore Song ’ave taken over Cregga marm’s room, so we’d better git there afore she does an’ shift those young ’uns out sharpish like!’
Baby Dwopple was wide awake and none the worse after his ordeal. He elbowed his way in between Blinny the molebabe and Florian at the dining table for lunch. ‘Where a vikkles? I starven!’
The hare rescued his summer salad and apple pie, scowling at Dwopple. ‘Have a care there, young wretchlet, I need all the nourishment I can lay me flippin’ paws on. Recoverin’ from a nasty cart accident, y’know. I say, is that beechnut sponge I see? Chuck it this way, will you, m’good mole, wot!’
‘I needs feedin’ too. I ’scaped! I fighted off those badbeasts! I frighted mista Stickabee . . .’
Cregga felt her way up the stairwell and gave the unlatched door of her room a light push. As it swung open, the badger entered, feeling about with outstretched paws. ‘Somebeast’s there. Come on, who is it?’
Janglur’s reply was tinged with foreboding. ‘Only me’n’ Skipper, marm, but I ain’t certain wot’s goin’ on.’
Cregga lowered herself into her favourite armchair as he continued.
‘Last night my Song was put in ’ere with young Dann an’ the shrew Dippler. You ’eard about wot ’appened to ’em, they was injured. But they ain’t ’ere no more, an’ Skipper sez that Martin’s sword is missin’ from the wall yonder.’
The badger mused over this information for a moment before replying. ‘Hmm. It sounds a bit strange, but let’s not dash into anything. They must be about somewhere, probably still within the Abbey.’
Janglur was not convinced. ‘But wot if they ain’t?’
The door behind them began creaking slowly shut before a slight draught. Skipper pointed to it. ‘There’s some markin’s scratched on that door!’
Janglur inspected it closely, telling Cregga what he could see. ‘Fairly fresh scratches, marm, done quick like with a sharp point. ‘Tis only four letters. G an’ T an’ G an’ T.’
Skipper opened the door. ‘I’ll go down an’ see if they’re at lunch, or they might be in the orchard. You two try an’ figger those letters out.’
Cregga rose from her armchair. ‘Wait!’ Crossing to the door, she pressed her muzzle gently against the scratches, sniffing as she moved over the markings. ‘G . . . T . . . G . . . T! I’ve a feeling those marks were made hastily by the last one to leave this room, carrying Martin’s sword. He or she scratched them. G . . . T . . . G . . . T!’
Janglur nodded as the solution dawned on him. ‘Aye, that’d be young Dann, tryin’ to prove hisself after Rusvul shouted at ’im last night, and the other two’ve gone with ’im. We’d better get searchers out, Skip, find ’em an’ get ’em back inside this Abbey before anythin’ bad ‘appens to Song an’ her pals. I just figgered it out. Those four letters mean Gone To Get Tapestry!’
Skipper stared at the letters. ‘Of course, that’s wot they’ve done, taken Martin the Warrior’s sword an’ gone to get our tapestry back. Only beasts with not many seasons under their belts would try a thing like that. Young, brave’n’fool’ardy. Wish my otters was ’ere, we’d get ’em back afore y’could blink. Trouble is that I think my tribe’s left the falls an’ gone north on the stream down to the seaside. Lots o’ good vittles there durin’ summer.’
Janglur untied the sling from his waist. ‘Can’t stand ’ere jawin’ all day. They might be in danger. Come on!’
Bong! Boom! Bong! Boom! Bong!
Skipper dashed past Janglur down the stairs.
‘Foebeasts at the gate!’
* * *
15
By mid-noon Mokkan seemed well on the road to recovery. He had sat up after a long nap and eaten food. The water rats did not stray far from the camp, but sat awaiting his orders. Mokkan made a great pretence of trying to stand, but sank back down again grimacing. He beckoned to the rat Beelu. ‘You’re a good strong beast. Help me up and walk along the streambank with me while I get these paws working properly again.’
Beelu helped the Marlfox to stand upright, and Mokkan leaned heavily on him, smiling his satisfaction. ‘Ah, that’s better. Let’s try a short stroll downstream, shall we?’
Silently the water rat obeyed, trying hard not to stumble as he guided his charge along the bank, close to the water. It was not long before they were out of sight of the others.
From behind the trunk of a crack willow, Fenno the shrew watched them. Weary, hungry and red-eyed from lack of sleep, he had blundered round Mossflower until he was hopelessly lost. The shrew grovelled down in the earth at the base of the willow and tried to meld himself with the tree, not knowing what to make of the incident that followed. He saw the paw which Mokkan had about Beelu suddenly lock round the rat’s neck and tighten. Mokkan spoke gently, soothingly, as he slowly throttled the life from his victim. ‘What’ll you tell my sister Vannan now, rat? This is the last lesson you’ll ever learn, never try to outsmart a Marlfox!’
Beelu’s paws kicked wildly, then his struggles lessened until he finally went limp. Mokkan hurled him into the stream and stood watching the rat’s carcass being swept away. He c
huckled. ‘Never learned how to swim, eh? Typical water rat, they’re not much use at learning anything!’
Fenno drew in his breath sharply with fear. The Marlfox melted back into the trees and was gone. The shrew scrambled out of his hiding place and threw himself flat on the bank. Thrusting his head into the stream, he drank, sucking in water greedily. Then, to his horror, a strong paw pressed itself down hard on the back of his neck. Fenno tried to lift his head clear of the water, but he could not. His limbs thrashed about helplessly as water rushed into his ears and eyes and up his nostrils. Just before he blacked out he was dragged clear of the stream and smashed up against the trunk of the willow. Fenno found himself staring into the pale, ruthless eyes of Mokkan.
‘Where are the rest of your tribe?’
Fenno shook his head as he coughed up water and streambed sand. ‘Gaaargh! I dunno. Kwaargh! B’lieve me, I dunno!’
Mokkan’s double-bladed axe pressed none too lightly between the gagging shrew’s eyes. ‘Oh, I believe you, only a complete fool would dare lie to Mokkan. Now listen carefully to my next question, your life depends on the answer. Are you good at steering and guiding a logboat?’
Not daring to nod with the axe so close, Fenno managed to gasp out, ‘Aye, Chief, I’m good at it!’
Mokkan’s paw was like a clawed vice. It dug savagely into the back of Fenno’s neck as he was propelled forward. ‘Good! I have work for you!’
The twelve remaining water rats rose to attention as Mokkan strode into camp, apparently fully recovered and thrusting a terrified shrew before him. He nodded to a rat. ‘Keep your spear on this shrew, if he moves gut him! The rest of you, take your weapons to those logboats, but save the stoutest one. Here, shrew, which is the best of these craft?’
Fenno scrabbled across and laid his paw on a boat without hesitation. ‘This’n, Chief. ’Twas Log a Log’s boat – belonged to a Guosim leader.’
The Marlfox inspected the fine craft, nodding his approval. ‘I’ll keep this one. You rats, chop the rest to splinters!’
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 14
