Mayon tried to imagine it, then sighed regretfully. ‘Yore right, mate, ’twouldn’t ’appen in ten seasons o’ plenty. Oh well, mebbe they’ll leave us some fer brekkist. I ’ope?’
The four Marlfoxes crouched in the ditch. Behind them, a contingent of water rats waited, holding the siege ladder between them. Gelltor hauled himself stealthily up on to the path. When he held his voluminous cloak still, he was almost invisible against the ditch edge and the path. At his signal the rats crawled out of the ditch, taking care to make no noise with the long rough ladder. Silently Gelltor fastened it to one end of the rope that had been left hanging from the protrusion beneath the battlements near the northwest corner. The ladder rose smoothly upwards as several rats hauled slowly on the rope’s other end. When the ladder was raised to its full extent, Gellfor manoeuvred it firmly against the wall and nodded to the others waiting in the ditch. Vannan, Ascrod and Predak led the remainder of the water rats to the bottom of the ladder. Gripping his axe handle in tight-clenched teeth, Gelltor began climbing. When he was halfway up, Predak allowed the rats to follow.
The Guosim shrew guarding that area was looking over at Bargle and Mayon, not suspecting a thing. Swift and silent as a shadow passing across the moon, Gelltor slid over the walltop and slew the sentry. As the rats followed he gestured to the wallsteps in the northwest corner, whispering, ‘Hide down there against the wall and wait for me!’
The first group of ten water rats padded softly down the stairs, into the grounds of Redwall Abbey.
Mayon yawned and stretched wearily. ‘Let’s ’ope that Friar Butty thinks of us an’ reminds ole Florian that we’re up ’ere, mate. Oooh! I dunno wot’s gettin’ to me most, ’unger or tiredness. Is that Fleggum over at the far corner there? Looks like ’e’s gone asleep.’
Bargle stared over towards the shrew in question, who was lying prone. ‘Sleepin’ on the job, is ’e? Well, I’ll soon . . . Rats! Lookit, mate, there’s rats climbin’ o’er the wall’ Logalogalogalooooog!’
Roused by the Guosim cry, shrews pounded round from all sides of the walltops, following Bargle and Mayon to the northwest corner.
Gelltor cursed, grinding his teeth. ‘Rot their lousy eyes, they’ve seen us!’
Bargle charged headlong across the ramparts, yelling out orders. ‘Three to each wallgate! Mayon, take six an’ secure the main gate! Stop those vermin openin’ any gates. Splikker, bring the rest an’ follow me. Chaaaaaarge!’
Gelltor was in a quandary. He could not fight off the charging Guosim, but neither could he climb back down the ladder against the stream of rats already on it, forging their way upward. Judging the situation hastily, he slipped quietly off down the wallsteps.
A water rat was halfway over the wall when he met a thrust from Bargle’s rapier and fell back with a gurgle, plunging out over the heads of his upcoming companions. Bargle and three other shrews mounted the battlements, slashing with their blades at any rat foolish enough to attempt climbing further. Below on the ground Vannan, Ascrod and Predak knew that the plan had been discovered, but they urged their troops on.
‘Come on, get up that ladder! You at the top there, attack! Get on the wall and keep them shrews busy! Fight them!’
Bargle draped himself across the gap between two battlements, and by leaning down as far as he could managed to catch hold of the rope, still tied to the ladder top. The brave shrew hauled on the rope whilst his mates kept the attackers busy, until the free end was at last in his hand. Leaping up, he yelled out commands.
‘Somebeast get over to the Abbey an’ raise the alarm, there’s nobeast in the belltower to warn ’em! The rest of ye, follow me!’
Bargle started running along the tops of the battlements towards the southwest corner, tugging the rope across his shoulders. Wily in the ways of battle, the other Guosim caught on right away to what he was doing. Climbing up to join him, each one caught hold of the rope and ran with it, pulling furiously. With a loud grating sound the ladder began heeling over sideways. Rats screeched in panic, caught in a jumble at the top of the ladder, unable to descend because of others clinging on in terror below them. Those lucky enough to be on the low rungs jumped for the safety of the ground, most of them landing on the heads of the bewildered Marlfoxes below. Unable to topple further, the ladder fell awkwardly, spinning out away from the wall, laden with screaming vermin. It thudded to earth with a sickening crunch, snapping at its centre as it hit the ground in a cloud of dust and carcasses.
Bargle jumped down from the battlements. ‘Down into the grounds, mates, we don’t know ’ow many got in!’
The shrew running for the Abbey to raise the alarm was brought down by an arrow. Mayon had his paws full defending the main gates against Gelltor and the ten water rats who had made it over the wall.
Gelltor was fighting for his life and he knew it. If he could not force Mayon and his six Guosim away from the main gate, there would be no help from outside now that the ladder had fallen. The Marlfox fought like a demon, snarling in the face of his enemies as he wielded his axe savagely. Three shrews were laid low as Bargle and the rest of his sentries came thundering up to join the fight. Gelltor and his rats saw them coming and dashed away for the south wallgate, where only three Guosim were on guard. The Marlfox’s mind was racing. If he was fast enough they could lay the three low and escape. Bargle went after them, signalling Mayon to stay with his command at the main gate. One of the shrews running with Bargle was halfway across the lawn, whirling a loaded sling, when he tripped. The heavy pebble shot off into the night.
Smash! The stone took out a small windowpane in Great Hall. Janglur, Rusvul and Skipper were up and vaulting over the tabletops even before the final shards of crystal glass had finished falling. Borrakul was hard on their heels, blocking the doorway through which the trio had just exited.
‘Friar, Deesum, Sloey! Git those Dibbuns to the wine cellars. Cregga, you an’ the elders hold this door. Every other able-bodied Redwaller, foller me!’
Florian brushed past him in high indignation. ‘Hmph! Just what I was about t’say m’self. Don’t anticipate my orders in future. Thunderin’ bad form, sir!’
Tragglo Spearback could not help raising his eyebrows as he patted Borrakul’s back. ‘Ho dearie me, you’ve got mister Florian really roused now, mate. I wonder who ’e’s goin’ to attack with that bowl o’ pudden that ’e’s carryin’?’
Gelltor had lost the fray. Bargle and his Guosim hurled themselves upon the water rats, with all the skill and ferocity of shrew Warriors. They took no prisoners. Gelltor was backed up against the wallgate, surrounded by a half-circle of rapier blades, when Janglur, Rusvul and Skipper arrived on the scene. Bargle staunched a leg wound grimly.
‘Big ole ladder they ’ad, Skip, but I put paid t’that. I think this Marlfox ’ere is the last of ’em!’
Somebeast held up a torch, and Skipper studied the Marlfox in its glow. ‘Florian, take yore guards up on the walltop an’ secure it. We’ll search the grounds an’ make certain there ain’t any more vermin prowlin’ about. Janglur, bind this ’un an’ lock ’im in the gate’ouse until we decides wot t’do with ’im!’
Gelltor flailed about dangerously with his axe. ‘Put a paw near me an’ it gets chopped off!’
The half-lidded eyes of Janglur settled on the Marlfox. ‘Tough beast, ain’t yer, fox? Yore the one who was goin’ to execute me fer sendin’ yore sister where she belongs.’
The Marlfox spat at the warrior squirrel and bared his fangs. ‘Talk big with your army round you, windbag. You couldn’t face me alone if I was bound an’ blindfolded!’
Skipper smiled pityingly at the Marlfox. ‘Oops! I think you jus’ said the wrong thing there, matey.’
Janglur waved a paw at those surrounding the cornered Gelltor. ‘Back off, everybeast. Do like I say an’ stand well away.’
Rusvul shouldered his javelin and prepared to stride off. ‘Best do like Janglur says. Where d’yer want us, Jang?’
Janglur’s eyes n
ever left the fox as he replied, ‘Over yonder, out o’ the way!’
The squirrel warrior nodded at the Marlfox’s axe. ‘You can keep ’old o’ that thing. Now, let’s do this proper. Walk past me, fox, about three tall treelengths, out on to the lawn.’
Gelltor was mystified, but he complied, feeling the squirrel’s lazy eyes watching him as he paced off the distance.
‘Right, that’ll do, ye vermin. Stop there.’
Gelltor halted and turned to see Janglur whack the bolts back with two sharp movements and fling open the south wallgate. Janglur moved forward a few paces. Standing empty-pawed between Gelltor and the open gate, he addressed the fox. ‘See, there’s freedom – an open gate. All you got to do is get past me. Don’t fret, nobeast will try t’stop yer, only me.’
Gelltor spat on his axeblade and swung it expertly, feeling lightheaded with confidence. What sort of fools were these Abbeydwellers, leaving only a fatbellied sleepy-looking squirrel between a Marlfox and his freedom? He ran a short distance forward, sprang into a crouch with the keen axe flat-bladed in front of him, and began stalking his prey.
Janglur waited until Gelltor was less than a pace from him. Then, as the axe swung, he dropped to the ground, kicking out sharply. Gelltor went down on his tail with a grunt of surprise. He had never missed a beast with his axe at that range. A sickening pain shot through his left footpaw and he scrambled upright, to find himself facing the squirrel whirling a stone-loaded sling. Limping, Gelltor took two sharp sideways chops at his adversary, snarling angrily, ‘When I leave here I’ll take your head with me, Redwaller!’
Janglur countered a blow, the stone in his sling ringing off the axeblade. He swung and caught Gelltor in the stomach. ‘Save yore breath, bully. Are you goin’ t’talk or fight?’
The Marlfox feinted to draw Janglur off, then swung an overhead slice directly between his opponent’s eyes. But the squirrel was not there. Janglur had moved his position so that he was standing alongside his assailant. The momentum of the swing buried the axeblade in the earth, and the thwack of the stone-loaded sling echoed off the south wall as it struck Gelltor’s skull.
Janglur took the axe from the slain Marlfox’s limp grasp, passing it to Tragglo Spearback. ‘This weapon’s seen enough evil. Put it t’work in yore cellars choppin’ up ole barrel staves. Skip, get those slain rats.’ He hooked a paw in Gelltor’s belt and dragged him outside the wallgate, where he dumped the dead Marlfox on open ground. ‘Put ’em out ’ere wid their master. I told them they could bury their own when they started this.’
When the gate was secured, they started back for the Abbey, Skipper and Janglur supporting Bargle, who sported a makeshift bandage on his wounded leg. Rusvul ruffled the shrew’s ears fondly. ‘That’s a wound to show yore grandshrews, mate!’
The tough Guosim limped forward with all speed. ‘Hah! Never mind that! Is the feast still goin’ good? Me’n’my crew bin waitin’ on a relief since nearly noon, an’ we’re starvin’!’
Florian called down anxiously from the walltop. ‘I say, old chap, if y’see a half-finished woodland trifle puddin’, well, it’s mine, so don’t put a blinkin’ paw near it, wot!’
‘Righto, mate,’ Bargle called cheerily back. ‘I swear I won’t touch yore trifle. Can’t say the same thing for Mayon, though. ’E loves ’is trifle, that ’un does!’
‘Cads! Trifle-burglars! Have you no sense of honour, sirs? Leavin’ a poor creature up here in charge of your jolly worthless hides whilst you plunder his trifle, this’ll go on your record, I warn you, great shrewfaced vittlevulture!’
Mayon began ragging Florian ruthlessly. ‘Are yer partial to mushroom and cheese flan, sir, or anythin’ o’ that sort? Jus’ you tell us wot dishes are yer favourite, mister Florian.’
The hare’s reply was tinged with hopefulness. ‘Well, thank the seasons for a decent type o’ shrew, wot! Yes, mushroom’n’cheese flan, that’s jolly nice. Oh, let me see now, I like summer salad with hazelnuts, blueberry pudden, hot scones with meadowcream, lashin’s o’ the stuff! Er, apple pie, plum tart, heavy fruitcake with a wedge of cheese, anythin’ like that!’
Mayon nodded, as if making a mental note of it all. ‘Well, don’t you fret, sir, we’ll remove all that jolly ole temptation outta yore way, so that yore breeches’ll still fit yer. Don’t forget t’put that on our records, sir!’
They went inside chuckling, with the air ringing to Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop’s invective. ‘Blisterin’ salad-swipers! Confounded purloiners of puddens! You mop-pawed ragheaded bread’n’cheese bandits, I hope y’all scoff too much an’ explode, see if I’ll care? Hah, pish’n’tush I’ll say, fiddledy hey an’ serves ’em right! Why, I’ve a good mind t’go to sleep an’ allow the flippin’ place t’be overrun with water foxes an’ Marlrats an’ what have you . . . er, I mean, forterwoxes an’ ragmats, yes, that’s what I mean . . . er, no ’tisn’t . . .’
* * *
21
Morning was high and bright by the time the travellers left Sollertree’s dwelling with their guide. Song had the feeling that though the hedgehog giant professed to be happy with his lonely existence, he would dearly have wished them to stay longer. In normal circumstances the squirrelmaid would have liked to, but there was much to be done and now was not the time to linger. With their packs refilled from Soll’s larder they trudged off, their big friend in the lead carrying the boat Swallow across his shoulders with ease. Dann figured that the path they were taking must once have been flooded by water, for thick fernbeds interspersed with clumps of marjoram, woundwort and hempnettle grew round the slender trunks of young rowan, elder and ash, which provided a veritable palisade on either side of the narrow path. Apart from the birdsong all around there appeared to be no signs of other creatures.
‘Looks like we got the woodlands to ourselves, mates!’ Dippler remarked airily.
Soll’s reply caused them to look to their weapons. ‘Not quite, me young dears, we’re bein’ watched. Now now, put not yore paws near blade or sling, ’tis nothin’ a beast o’ my girth cannot deal with! Follow me, look neither left nor right an’ be not afeared.’
‘Oh yiss yiss, keep close t’the big feller, though I don’t see as ’ow he’ll defend us,’ Burble whispered to Dippler as they hurried to keep up with Soll. ‘Yesterday ’e said that ’twas agin’ ’is nature t’be a warrior or harm any livin’ creature.’
Dippler kept close behind the hedgehog’s broad back. He had confidence in Soll. ‘Don’t you worry, Burb, mister Soll will take care of us.’
Song’s sharp eyes soon picked out the shapes flitting amid the screen of slim treetrunks. Whoever it was tracking them seemed well versed in stealth, using sunlight and shadow skilfully, slipping between ferns and bushes.
‘Whatever kind of creature comes at us, I’m not afraid,’ Dann murmured to her. ‘This time they won’t catch me nappin’, I’ll wager!’
The pretty squirrelmaid restrained Dann’s swordpaw gently. ‘I know you don’t fear them, Dann, but let’s do what Soll says, just follow and leave things to him. Look out, here they are!’
There were three of them, a stoat and two weasels. Their appearance was eerie and barbaric. Stripes of yellow clay and green plant dye swathed the trio from ears to footpaws, providing perfect camouflage for the type of woodland they hunted in. A mace and chain dangled from the stoat’s paw, while the weasels brandished fire-blackened cutlasses. They stood on the path ahead, boldly blocking the way.
Grinning wickedly, the stoat twirled his mace and chain. ‘Stay where y’are. This’s our forest. Who said youse could walk on our path? I never, did you, cullies?’
The weasels were enjoying themselves. They shook their heads.
‘Nah, we never gave ’em permission.’
‘Trespassin’, that’s wot they’re doin’.’
Soll unshouldered the boat, placing it carefully to one side. His voice was calm and friendly. ‘Me’n’my friends are travellers. We don’t want trouble.’
&nbs
p; The stoat turned to his weasel companions, putting on a mocking tone. ‘Did y’ear that, buckoes? They don’t want trouble. Ain’t that nice?’ Turning swiftly, he slammed the spiked metal ball of his mace and chain against a thin laburnum tree, tearing off a chunk of bark. His voice hardened as he shook the weapon at the hedgehog. ‘Well, you’ve already got trouble whether y’want it or not. Now drop those foodpacks an’ yer weapons too, an’ leave the pretty boat where ’tis. Then run back the ways yer came an’ I’ll let yer off wid yore lives. But yer better do it quick!’
Soll held up a large paw. ‘I hear you, friend. Let me have a word with these young ’uns first.’ Without waiting for a reply, Soll turned and addressed his followers quietly.
‘Steady now, me liddle dears. I know yore warriors an’ you could deal with yon vermin, but why waste life? They’re only bullies an’ loudmouths, or they’d ’ave acted afore now. Leave this t’Soll.’
The giant hedgehog turned back then, and took a few resolute steps forward. Seeing the size of him reared up to his full height, the vermin trio fell back a pace. Soll’s face was stern and unrelenting, and his voice rang like iron. ‘Y’see those four young ’uns back there? Well, each of ’em is a Redwall Abbey Champion. They’re born warriors. Any one of ’em could lay all three of you out!’
Both weasels looked apprehensive at this statement, but the stoat kept up his swagger. ‘Yore lyin’, ’edgepig. Those three, ha! I’ll wager that four seasons back their mammas was still tuckin’ ’em in bed!’
Soll raised his bushy eyebrows, widening his eyes until he began to look quite insane, and his voice rose to a roar. ‘But I only keep my friends for special occasions, an’ this ain’t nothin’ special, three painted popinjays like you. Yore all mine!’
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 21
