Soll’s powerful paws began clenching and unclenching, his eyes popped even wider and his voice swelled like thunder. ’Cos you’ve left it too late to run away now! Y’must deal with me! I’m the son of a gutripper an’ skullcrusher! Born in dark moon an’ storm! My enemies don’t ’ave graves, I et ’em all! First I’ll bite off yer ears an’ tails! Then I’ll build me a great fire, a roastin’ fire! I’ll cut me a sharp green spit, one that can take three vermin at a time! Then I’ll get my skinnin’ sword an’ I’ll . . .’
But the vermin were gone, whizzing away through the woodlands like minnows with a pike on their tails.
Sollertree sat down on the path, placing a paw across his eyes and shaking his head woefully. ‘Oh dearie me, grapevines’n’gravel! Dearie goodness gracious me!’
Song hurried forward and held his paw sympathetically. ‘Mister Soll, whatever’s wrong with you?’
The giant hedgehog waved her away. ‘Leave me a moment, my pretty maid. I’ve gone an’ upset meself with all that temper an’ shoutin’. It had t’be done, though I don’t like meself when I must resort to anger. Leave me, I beg you.’
Song went with her friends to sit a short distance from Soll. Dann’s eyes were shining with wonder. ‘Did you see him? Whew! Imagine what he’d ’ave done if the vermin’d stayed! I shudder t’think!’
Dippler had enjoyed the encounter immensely, once he was over the first fright of Soll’s roaring tirade. ‘Heheehee! Did you see their faces? I thought they was gonna break all their teeth, they was chatterin’ so ’ard, eh, Burb?’
‘Oh yiss yiss. Meself, I was hopin’ that good ole mister Soll’d skin ’em an’ roast the rotten toads, like ’e said ’e would. Yiss!’
Song tweaked the watervole’s ear. ‘You bloodthirsty little maggot, mister Soll wouldn’t have done any such thing. He knew they were only bullies, so he outbullied them. Look at him, poor creature, he’s quite upset.’
However, Soll’s depressed state did not last too long. He sniffed quite a bit, wiped his eyes and stood up smiling broadly. ‘Well, that’s enough o’ that, my liddle dearies. There’s plenty o’ creatures in this land to upset me, without my upsettin’ meself. Life is given t’be lived happily, that’s true enough!’ Picking up the mace and chain that the stoat had dropped, Soll twirled it above his head until it was a humming blur, then he flung it up and out. They watched in awe as it sailed out of sight over the treetops.
About mid-afternoon Soll changed course slightly, veering off into an area where the trees were less thick, and small clearings and rocks dotted the land.
‘I ’opes you don’t mind, my dearies, but I got a liddle visitin’ t’do. ’Twon’t take up much of yore time.’
Dippler sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘Ooh, lovely, scones! Somebeast’s bakin’ scones, I can smell ’em.’
Sure enough, a wonderful aroma of fresh-baked scones hovered elusively on the hot afternoon air. Soll halted and called out in a gentle singsong tone,
‘Goodwife Brimm, are you at ’ome?
If’n you are ’tis only me,
Now you won’t sit all alone,
’Cos I’ve brought some friends to tea!’
A voice, old and cracked through long seasons, answered him.
‘If’n that’s who I think it be,
Wot a din yore makin’,
Seems to me I only see,
Yore face when I’m bakin’!’
Laughing uproariously, Soll hitched the Swallow further up on his shoulders and broke into a lumbering run, with the four travellers trotting in his wake.
Goodwife Brimm was a small, thin otter, incredibly old; her fur had turned a beautiful silver-white. Song had never seen an old otterwife dressed so charmingly, from her poke bonnet and puff-sleeved gown to the flowery pinafore with dainty lace edging. The goodwife’s home was properly built from baked clay and mud bricks, walling in a flat almost square rock spur, which formed the roof. White limestones separated her vegetable and herb garden from a blossoming flower patch. The old otter left off gathering rows of scones from a windowledge, where they had been cooling, and hobbled forward to greet her friend. Soll and Goody Brimm hugged and kissed fondly.
‘My ole Goody Goody, prettiest otter an’ best cook anywheres!’
‘Soll, you big flatterer, yore singin’ ain’t improved none!’
‘So it ’asn’t, marm, but I got one ’ere can outsing larks!’
Soll introduced them, whilst Goody Brimm kissed their cheeks and squeezed their paws right heartily for one so frail-looking. ‘Fortune smile on ’em, ain’t they so young an’ beautiful, Soll? My my, swords’n’slings’n’rapiers! Proper young warriors all. Come in and sit, I was about t’put the kettle on!’
Inside was the neatest, tidiest house they had ever seen. A brightly hued rush mat covered the floor from wall to wall, pottery ornaments graced the highly polished dresser, there were even embroidered linen headrests on the chairbacks. Goody Brimm put a sizeable copper kettle over the fire to boil, then, rolling mint leaves and dried burnet rosehips almost to powder with a long round stone, she tossed them in a fat blue teapot. Tea at Goody Brimm’s house was very special. The travellers helped themselves to almond wafers and scones, spread with every kind of preserve from blackcurrant jelly to gooseberry and damson jam.
Soll hauled two bags from his pack. ‘Brought you some grapes’n’almonds. Good crop this year.’
They explained their mission to the otterwife, who listened, sipping her tea and nodding, whilst encouraging them to eat more. When they had finished their tale, the old goodwife spoke. ‘The stream flows well not far from here. Soll will have you there by eventide, so don’t gollop yore food an’ rush off, now. Lack a day, young ’uns are always in a hurry. Slow down, ’tis better for you. Now then, pretty miss, with a name like your’n I think you should carry a nice tune. Do ye know one called “Mother Nature Dear”? ’Tis a great favourite of mine.’
Song answered without hesitation. ‘Aye, I know it well, marm, my Grandma Ellayo taught it to me. ’Twas a long time ago, but I recall every word.’
Goody chuckled and winked at Soll. ‘A long time ago, eh? Like as not two seasons back. When yore old as me, then y’can talk about long times, my beauty. Come, sing for me.’
Song began tapping her footpaw, and they all tapped along with her until the rhythm was just right to start singing.
‘Who taught the birds to sing?
Why Mother Nature dear.
Who told the winds an’ breeze to blow,
Rain to fall an’ snow to snow,
Rivers to run an’ streams to flow?
Oh Mother Nature dear!
Who coloured grass so green?
Why Mother Nature dear.
Who tells the moon, come out at night,
And teaches stars to shine so bright,
Then orders sun and clear daylight?
Oh Mother Nature dear!
Who makes the seaons change?
Why Mother Nature dear.
Who says the seas must ebb and flow,
An’ tells each tree how tall to grow,
Then lets the days pass fast or slow?
Oh Mother Nature dear,
I see her plain an’ clear,
She’s all around us here!’
Song held the final note, letting it rise, holding it a touch longer, then ending with a double tap of her footpaws. Goody Brimm was smiling, yet she wiped her eyes with a small kerchief. ‘I never ’eard that tune sung so sweet in all me days. ’Twas a rare treat jus’ to sit’n’lissen to yore voice, young missie!’
Soll rose reluctantly. ‘That’s true, m’dear, but these young ’uns got a ways to go afore nightfall. We best leave now if’n we want to make it to the stream by twilight. So we’ll be biddin’ ye goodbye.’
Goody Brimm hastily started wrapping scones for them. ‘Goodbye nothin’! I’ll walk with ye as far as the stream. A stretch of the ole paws’ll do me good!’
Afternoon shadows were
growing long as they strode through the woodland in double file, chatting away animatedly. Dann watched the old otter, leaning for support on Soll’s sturdy paw, both solitary creatures united for a short time. Song already had an idea of what Dann was going to say to her, but she let him speak his thoughts as they walked together.
‘I can’t help feelin’ sorry for Soll an’ Goody. You can tell they lead a lonely life, by the way they love company an’ want us to stay an’ visit longer. I think they’d be far better off livin’ at Redwall Abbey. There’d be lots o’ new friends there, an’ things t’do. I bet they’d soon forget their loneliness at the Abbey.’
Song had already pondered this idea. ‘Ah, but you must remember, Dann, they’re solitary creatures by choice. I’ll grant you that they like visitors, but if they were to live at the Abbey, perhaps they wouldn’t be able to get used to constant company and living night and day without the solitude they’ve come to love so well. Besides, Soll and Goody are old and set in their ways. I don’t think they’d take so easily to a new life.’
Goody Brimm turned and winked at Song. ‘Right, me beauty. You show great wisdom for one so young!’
The squirrelmaid felt her fur prickle with embarrassment. ‘Oh, marm, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was speakin’ so loud!’
Goody’s head nodded up and down as she chuckled. ‘Heehee, you weren’t. Sometimes my ole paws let me down, but these ears o’ mine are sharp as the day I was born. What’s more, when I hear yore voice echoin’ round this great boat that Soll’s carryin’, it sounds a lot louder, I can tell ye. Heehee!’
Burble agreed with the old otter. ‘Ah yiss yiss, missus, I carried that boat over me head wid these three fer nigh on a day. D’ye know, they near drove me mad wid their chatterin’ an’ singin’ echoin’ through me pore young ears. Yiss!’
Dippler stared at the watervole quizzically. ‘Did I ’ear right, matey? Somebeast near drove you mad by chatterin’? Are yer sure ’twasn’t the other way round, eh?’
Several rivulets joined in a small valley to form the stream. In the gathering twilight they heard the water sounds as they trekked through the trees towards it. Simple pleasure showed on Soll’s heavy face. ‘You see, me liddle dearies, I told you I’d get ye here afore dark, an’ I was right, was I not?’ Placing the Swallow onstream, Soll held it still whilst the four friends stowed their supplies, climbed into the vessel and took up their paddles. Then Soll and Goody Brimm bid them farewell.
‘Go ye now, an’ fortune sail with you, my dearies!’
‘Aye, an’ make them scones last well, ’Twill be a long time till you taste any so nice!’
‘Should you return safe from yore venture, be so kind as to call an’ visit ole Soll again some sunny day!’
‘You must all come an’ see me too, but stay a bit longer next time. Be careful now, go safe an’ take our best wishes with ye!’
The Swallow cut her way out to midstream, with the four friends calling their goodbyes to the two good creatures waving from the bank.
‘Thanks for everything, both of you. We’ll come back, never fear!’
‘Aye, a Guosim nose can scent scones bakin’ anywhere, marm!’
‘Yiss yiss, tell me friend Croikle to ’ave more jokes ready when we call back this way, sir!’
‘Farewell, Soll, farewell, Goody! We’ll never forget you, or the kindness you’ve shown us. Farewell!’
Watching the sleek craft slide downstream until it was lost in the nightfall, hedgehog and otter stood silent, tears dripping down their faces. Goody Brimm passed Soll her kerchief. ‘They got a long an’ dangerous way t’go, but they’re young an’ brave of heart. They’ll make it.’
The giant hedgehog dabbed gently at his eyes. ‘Wish they could’ve stayed safe with me’n’Croikle!’
* * *
22
Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop struck his most noble pose. Balancing high on the midwest battlements he leaned forward, shading his eyes with a paw, back leg stuck out straight behind, and his expression one of keen and courageous intelligence as he peered searchingly in all directions. The fearless commander, master of all he surveyed. ‘H’all cleeeeyaaahhh?’ he called to the sentries in his most authoritative voice. ‘The enemy hath fled from our gates! Nary a sign of one lousebound rat or malicious Marlfox t’be seen in all this fair country, wot!’
Deesum clasped her paws together fervently. ‘Oh, thanks be to fortune, is the fighting over now?’
Florian blew out his narrow chest, placing a paw upon his heart. ‘The winds of war blow no more, madam, the foebeast is vanquished, routed by our valorous efforts, retreating in disarray, wot wot!’
The fiendish mousebabe Dwopple narrowly missed the hare’s tail with a stone from his sling. He scowled ferociously. ‘Worra ’im talkin’ ’bout?’
Florian cast a jaundiced eye at his one remaining foe. ‘If you’d washed your pesky ears out you’d have heard first time, O small and horrible one. Victory is ours! Toll the bells! Strew rose petals round me paws and prepare a great feast!’
Brother Melilot rolled his eyes skyward in despair. ‘I had a feelin’ he was goin’ to mention food!’
The rest of the Redwallers sitting on the gatehouse steps looked to Cregga. Sister Sloey touched the badger’s paw. ‘What d’you think, Badgermum? Is the fighting really over?’
Cregga deliberated before giving her answer. ‘It could well be, friend. Another Marlfox slain, and a good number of water rats. Perhaps they’ve had enough. They’ve not shown up today so far, and that must be a good sign.’
Gurrbowl Cellarmole jumped up and down with joy. She hated the notion, as most other Redwallers did, of continued strife. ‘Oh, do saya ee vurmints be’d gone, marm. Ee foightin’ do be’s over, bain’t it, do ee say ’tis.’
Cregga smiled. She could feel the hopefulness virtually radiating from the Abbeydwellers gathered around her. ‘Oh, all right, if you wish, I think the war’s over.’
Joyous pandemonium rang out over the grounds into the sunkissed morning.
‘Victory for Redwaaaaaalllll!’
‘Sound the bells! Sound the bells good’n’loud!’
‘A feast! Let’s prepare a great feast in the orchard!’
Florian strutted triumphantly down the wallsteps, bowing to all around in the most outrageous manner. ‘Jolly well told you chaps, didn’t I? Fightin’s over, wot!’
Janglur sat on the northwest wallcorner with his friends, Rusvul and Skipper. They watched the cheering creatures pouring over towards the Abbey, eager to begin the preparations for the celebratory feast. Janglur’s hooded eyes swept Mossflower woodlands north of the ramparts. ‘Let ’em enjoy theirselves. I think I’ll just linger round ’ere for a few days yet. No point in takin’ chances, mates.’
Skipper tested a longbow that he had been restringing. ‘Good idea. We’re with you!’
Vannan’s was the strongest personality of the three remaining Marlfoxes. She had ordered a retreat into the depths of south Mossflower. The vixen sat watching the water rats tend their injuries and cook food over an open fire, remarking noncommittally, as Ascrod came to sit beside her, ‘We’re fortunate there’s no shortage of vittles hereabouts. Let ’em rest awhile. We need to use brains more than weapons now.’
Ascrod snorted scornfully. He snatched a roasted thrush from a passing water rat and sank his teeth into it. ‘We need reinforcements more than anythin’, sister. We’ve barely got a hundred an’ twenty countin’ me, you an’ Predak.’
Vannan stood up, brushing her cloak off. ‘Then we’ll just have to use the ferrets, won’t we?’
Ascrod spat a bone into the fire, wrinkling his face in disgust. ‘What? You mean that scurvy bunch we rousted out of here last night? Raventail and his ragged crowd? They looked as though they’d seen enough fighting to last them many a long day. Anyway, ferrets have never served those of Marlfox blood. Surely you cannot be serious?’
Vannan adjusted the axe in her belt so it was ready to paw. ‘I
’m perfectly serious, brother. We can’t be too choosy in times like these, and we need more soldiers. Those ferrets will join us, aye, they’ll fight and die for us too, when I’ve put a bit of discipline into their backbones. You can come with me. Bring an escort of twoscore, well armed – Allag’s patrol will do.’
Ascrod tossed the roast bird aside, wiping paws upon his cloak. ‘But we chased them off. They’ll be long gone by now.’
Vannan pointed to the telltale wisps rising above the treetops to the south. ‘They’re still hanging about over that way. I’ve been marking the smoke of their campfire since early morning. Are you coming?’
Ascrod signalled Allag’s patrol and hurried to join his sister. ‘But there was no more than a score of them. What use is twenty ferrets to us?’
Vannan strode confidently onward. ‘A score is all we counted, but I’ll wager they can raise three times that number. Sixty extra soldiers is not something to be sneezed at. Let’s go and talk to this Chieftain Raventail!’
When they reached the ferret camp, Vannan ordered Ascrod to stay concealed nearby in the woods with Allag and his patrol. Using all the considerable wiles of a Marlfox she made her way through the ferrets unheeded. Drawing as close to Raventail’s fire as she could while remaining undetected, the vixen tossed a pawful of special ingredients from her belt pouch into the flames. Raventail shot up in alarm when the fire burst into a green sheet of flame, followed by a thick column of smoke. He was even more astounded by the appearance of Vannan, who materialized out of the haze. The ferret staggered backward, drawing his scimitar.
‘Kye arr! Where comma you from, foxbeast?’
Vannan made a fearful sight, paws akimbo, revealing the axe she carried beneath her cloak, from under which the smoke still wreathed and curled. Her strange pale eyes narrowed as she glared at the ferret, calling out in a sepulchral voice, ‘Be still and know that I am the Marlfox! The power of great magic is within me!’
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 22
