When some bad varmint wid an axe,
Deals my ’ome a good few whacks.
Oh buzz, sez I, now wot’s amiss,
Good gracious me, I can’t ’ave this.
So buzz, buzz, buzz, I flies right out,
Wags my sting an’ looks about,
Buzz buzz buzz, who can I sting?
Whoever did this wicked thing.
So right up in the air I fly,
An’ there the villain I espy,
Buzz buzz buzz, the one I chose,
Had honey smeared all on his nose,
Buzz buzz buzz, aye, that’s him there,
That ’orrible funny-lookin’ hare.
Steal my honey, that ain’t fair,
Yore goin’ to pay the price, proud sir,
Buzz buzz buzz, so down I goes,
An’ stings him hard upon his nose,
I made him leap an’ howl an’ wail,
An’ that’s the sting in my small tale.
Buzz buzz buzz, I tell you folk,
Stay clear o’ my ole three-topped oak!’
Ellayo chuckled as she described the scene to Cregga. ‘Heeheehee, the Dibbuns are dancin’ round mister Florian an’ whirrin’ their paws as if they was wings. Hear ’em makin’ buzzin’ noises? I won’t repeat t’you wot that hare’s a-sayin’.’
Cregga smiled. ‘You’ve no need to, friend. I can hear him.’
Florian was stumbling over Dibbuns, holding the poultice still and shouting at them. ‘Away an’ leave me in peace, you pint-sized rotters! Get from under me paws, vile infants! An’ you, Tragglo sir, there’s nothin’ funny in a warrior gettin’ his hooter nipped by a confounded buzzin’ insect. Shame on you an’ all your ilk, sir, you’re a bounder an’ a pollywoggle an’ a dreadful singer t’boot, so there, wot!’
Tragglo retaliated by quickly composing the first line of a new ditty. ‘I’ll sing ye a ballad of a fork from a salad . . .’
Clapping both paws over his ears Florian dashed off, yelling, ‘Yah, you great overstuffed pincushion, bad form! Addin’ insult to injury. Go ’way an’ leave me alone, y’fatty needle-bottomed cask-thumper!’
Rusvul joined the listeners at the doorway. ‘Pore ole Florian. Don’t ’ave much luck, does he, hohohoho!’
Ascrod and Predak were the least hurt of the besieging army. Raventail was unrecognizable, his head completely misshapen by stinging lumps, made uglier with a thick coating of pounded dock and stream mud. Vannan was so full of poison from termite bites that her footpaws had swollen like balloons.
Ascrod shook his head. ‘Who’d believe it, sister, the injuries that insects can inflict. I took count a while ago. Six are missing, either stung to death, or run away after being driven mad.’
Predak viewed the scene in grim silence. After a while she gripped her axe handle resolutely. ‘We’re not going to be defeated, brother. This thing has gone too far. There has to be something simple, a thing that everybeast has overlooked. Redwall Abbey can be conquered, I know it can!’
Ascrod was impressed by his sister’s fervour. ‘I believe you, Predak, but what’s the answer? Everything we’ve tried so far has failed, and two Marlfoxes are slain!’
Predak looked about her desperately. ‘Leave these fools to nurse their wounds. Come on, we know that no creature alive can outwit a Marlfox. We’re going back to Redwall. We’ll lay low and study it carefully from every possible angle. We won’t rush into any harebrained scheme. We’ll stop and watch and listen, take note of everything, until we come up with a simple, foolproof solution.’
Ascrod stared levelly at the vixen. ‘Yes, I believe we will, sister of mine. Remember that rhyme our mother used to recite when we were little more than cubs?
‘The Marlfox cannot be bested,
Either in cunning or stealth,
Whenever there is power to be seized,
Plunder, land, or wealth,
When other minds are slumb’ring,
The Marlfox is wide awake,
Figuring how and where and when,
To deceive, to slay, to take!
Invisibly, by the magical guile,
Slyly, with less than a sound,
Count your paws, make sure they’re yours
When the Marlfox is around!’
Like smoke on summer wind Ascrod and Predak vanished from the camp, into the thicknesses of Mossflower, back towards Redwall Abbey.
The mousebabe Dwopple and his partners in crime, molebabes Wugger and Blinny, had become Marlfoxes again. Daubed with flour and ashes and wearing grey blanket cloaks, they trundled into the kitchens and loaded a full plum pudding on to a cart. Believing themselves invisible they hauled the cart away, looking back over their shoulders and giggling. They made it safely out of the kitchens only to be halted by the javelin of Rusvul Reguba. ‘Haharr, you didn’t know that I’m the only beast in Redwall who can spot Marlfoxes, did yer? Now prepare to be slain!’
Dwopple blew a sigh of frustration and seated himself on the cart. Rusvul could not help smiling at the little fellow.
‘Phwaw! Us allus gettin’ catched, ’cos we not real Marmfloxes I ’uppose. If’n you don’t slain us we gives ya some pudden.’
Rusvul relieved them of the pudding and took it back to the kitchen. He gave them a candied chestnut apiece. ‘It ain’t nice to steal, y’know. If you want vittles you’ve only got to ask, for nobeast goes hungry at Redwall. Another thing, bein’ Marlfoxes isn’t good either. You’d do better bein’ Redwall Warriors, like Martin on the tapestry.’
Wugger seated himself on a pile of floursacks. ‘Yore Dann be fetchin’ ee tarpesty back yurr, zurr, bain’t that so? Oi speck Dann’ll be back soon, do ee, zurr?’
The squirrel warrior seated himself beside the molebabe. A tear coursed down his craggy features, and he turned his head aside quickly, hoping the Dibbuns had not seen it. ‘I ’ope he will, liddle ’un. If anybeast brings back the tapestry it’ll be my Dann. He’s a Reguba, y’know, bravest o’ the brave!’
Dwopple popped a plum out of the pudding and munched it. ‘Will Marmfloxes be back, mista Rusbul? Mista Florey say they’m all goed an’ not come back ’ere no more.’
Rusvul stroked the mousebabe’s head pensively. ‘Mister Florian an’ lots of others say they won’t be back, and certainly nobeast in this Abbey wants to see that lot return. But you take my word fer it, liddle feller, there’s a world o’ difference between what we’d like an’ what we get. Nobeast knows that better’n I. Take it from me, all of yer, those Marlfoxes’ll be back, an’ their vermin with ’em, I’m certain of it, sure as I’m sittin’ ’ere talkin’ to you!’
The Dibbuns shook off their blanket cloaks and began dusting themselves down.
‘C’mon, Wugg, us gonna be Red’all Warriors. Wot does Red’all Warriors look like, mista Rusbul?’
Rusvul looked at the Dibbuns standing boldly before him. ‘Just like you three, mates. Now go on with yer, off an’ play!’
He watched them scampering off, thinking of his own son Dann when he was their age, innocent, fearless and happy. Then Janglur peered around the kitchen entrance at his friend. ‘Come on up on the wall, matey. There’s somethin’ I think you should see!’
* * *
28
Things happened so fast for Dann and his friends that it was difficult for them to recall the incident later. Clinging to the boatsides, paddles forgotten, they shot into the underground waterfall like an arrow from a bow. The Swallow was such a light craft, she was whipped over the torrent’s edge and flung straight into the Stygian gloom. Noise like none had ever known echoed and reverberated around them; darkness was everywhere. Breathless and battered by heavy spray, the three companions felt their boat spin through the air, down, down, down. There was a sudden impact. The Swallow struck an underground ledge with a rending crunch. All three were flung from the boat, half stunned, into a whirling, sucking miasma of dark icy water, far below the earth’s surface.
Dann felt himself rushed along on a mighty current, bumpin
g into rocks and scraping against slime-covered side channels, being swept always on a downward path. His paws were bruised and torn from trying to grasp at passing objects – completely disoriented, he grabbed at anything. A shattered wooden spar met Dann’s grasp, and he seized it, holding tight as he felt himself spilled over the top of another steep downfall. Striking the side, the spar flicked back at him, wiping out his senses with a sharp crack to his head. Darkness and silence enveloped the young squirrel.
Dann awakened gradually. Far away he could hear the muted roar of the waterfalls. It was cold and somebeast was anxiously patting his face.
‘Dann, me ole mate, wake up! Y’can’t die an’ leave me here all on me own. C’mon, Dann, I’m beggin’ yer, mate, wake up! If you die an’ leave me down ’ere on me own I’ll never speak t’you again, so there!’
Opening his eyes, Dann found himself staring into Dippler’s tear-stained face. Despite his aching body, the squirrel smiled. ‘You muddle-’eaded little ragbag, you’ll never speak to me again if I die? That’s a good ‘un, mate!’
The Guosim shrew hugged his friend heartily. ‘You know wot I mean, Dann!’
Dann clasped Dippler’s paw. ‘Of course I do, matey!’
Straightening up, they both took stock of their surroundings. The underground river flowed by on their right. They had been washed up on some rocks which skirted a huge pool to the left. Pale green phosphorescent light bathed the immense cavern, and stalactite and stalagmite formations decorated the far reaches of the pool’s edge. However, they were of little interest to Dann and Dippler, whose eyes roved the strange place searching for the watervole.
Dippler voiced his thoughts. ‘I wonder where ole Burble’s got to?’
Cupping both paws around his mouth, Dann shouted, ‘Burble, are you there, mate?’
Echoes of the call bounced back from all directions, but there was no reply, only the distant boom of the falls and a steady plip-plot of water dropping from the high cavern ceiling into the pool. It all sounded very eerie.
Dippler gave Dann a worried glance. ‘Pore ole Burb. Wot if he’s . . .’
The young squirrel placed a paw to the shrew’s lips. ‘Don’t even mention it, Dipp. Come on, maybe he’s been washed further downriver. Don’t fret, we’ll find him.’
Keeping close to the river edge, they pressed onward, sometimes wading waist deep, other times jumping from rock to rock. Dippler followed Dann. He was in a gloomy mood and took every opportunity to let his companion know it, voicing his thoughts aloud as they went.
‘Huh, I’ve gone an’ lost me blade. Wot sort o’ Guosim must I look like, widout a rapier by me side? It’s all right fer you, mate, you’ve still got that great sword slung over yore back. Pore ole me, I’ve got nothin’ to defend meself with.’ Dippler’s voice re-echoed about the tunnel they were sloshing through after leaving the cavern. ‘An’ I’m so wet’n’cold that I don’t think I’ll ever get dry’n’ warm agin. Blinkin’ head’s achin’, too!’
Dann waded forward, trying to ignore Dippler’s complaints. ‘Proper little ray o’ sunshine, aren’t you, Dipp? Moanin’ ain’t goin’ t’do us any good. One more word out of you an’ I’ll die an’ never talk to you again!’
‘Help! Gerroff me, y’dirty great hooligan! Heeeee elp!’
Echoes of Burble’s voice boomed all around the tunnel. Dann drew his sword, looking about wildly. ‘It’s Burb. Which way are those sounds coming from?’
Dippler pushed past Dann, stumbling and splashing ahead. ‘Well, he wasn’t back where we were, so he must be up thataway!’
The tunnel opened out into another vast cavern. Like the previous one, this also had a rockbound pool, but far larger than the first. They scrambled up on to the rocks and saw Burble.
The watervole was clinging fiercely on to a stalagmite at the shallow side of the pool, flat out in the water. He was caught by the tail, and a veritable monster of a fish was trying to drag him into the deeps. The fish was a barbel, white as snow and completely blind from living in the dark subterranean depths. It was a fearsome sight, with a head as wide as Dann was tall. Dippler hurtled into the shallows and grabbed Burble’s paws as they slipped from the smooth rounded stalagmite. He began a tug of war against the barbel, with Burble roaring in a panic, gripping the young Guosim’s paws, trying to lever himself forward as Dippler dug in, bending over backward, grunting as he tried to heave his friend away from the huge fish. The watervole felt his wet paws slipping from Dippler’s grasp as the monstrous barbel pulled, dragging him further into the fathomless pool with it.
‘Don’t let ’im get me, Dipp! Pull, pull! Dann, heeeeelp!’ he shrieked.
Dann dashed forward and tripped, cannoning into a stalagmite, the limestone column snapping as he struck it. Scrambling upright, the young squirrel hurtled onward, booming echoes of his shouts ringing round the cavern.
‘Hold on, Burb, I’m comin’! Redwaaaaaalllll!’
Without thinking, Dann had seized hold of the broken-off stalagmite, unconscious of its weight. Sloshing into the shallows, he swung the cylindrical chunk of limestone like a club, whacking the fish a mighty blow on its jaw. The barbel’s awesome mouth flew open and Burble shot forward, collapsing in a heap atop Dippler. Dann let go of the stalagmite and leapt to safety, landing upon his two friends in a jumble of thrashing limbs. Like a steel trap the barbel’s mouth slammed shut, trapping the stalagmite in its jaws. It slid backward, completely stunned. Slipping from the shallow rock ledge, the leviathan of the pool dropped back into the depths. Slowly it sank from sight in the green translucent water, leaving behind a spiralling trail of carmine from its injured mouth. They lay exhausted, shuddering with shock and fear.
Dann sat up first, massaging his limbs briskly, wide eyes riveted on the still pool. ‘Uuugh! What an evil-lookin’ monster. Are you all right, Burb?’
The irrepressible vole inspected his skinned tail ruefully. ‘Yiss yiss, ’twas a big ’un all right. Pity we couldn’t ’ave dragged it ashore an’ ate it. I’m starvin’!’
Dann burst into laughter at the gluttonous watervole. ‘Hahaharr! Trust you, Burb, always thinkin’ of yore stomach!’
Burble shook himself indignantly. ‘Ah now, yer wrong there, bucko, I was thinkin’ of the big fish’s stomach, an’ wot it’d be like livin’ inside it. But thank ye, Dann, that’s a useful ould club you swung there, yiss yiss!’
Dippler was in agreement with the watervole. ‘Burb’s right, though, I’m starvin’ too. Wot I wouldn’t give fer one of ole Goody Brimm’s scones spread with honey an’ cream!’
Dann took a glance at their surroundings. ‘As for me, all I’d like to see is the sunlight shinin’ on trees an’ woodland again. This place gives me the creeps!’
The three friends lost all sense of night or day in the gloomy caverns deep in the mountain. They followed the course of the river, hoping that somewhere it might flow out into the open. However, there was always the dread in their minds that it would flow into ever deeper underground caves and keep going down. Hunger, cold and weariness pervaded their bodies, but they strove onward, knowing they could not afford to lie down and sleep in the bitterly low temperatures of the subterranean regions.
Dann began bobbing his head slowly from side to side as they progressed along a winding stone corridor. Dippler, who was walking behind him, grumbled. ‘Keep yore ’ead still, mate. I’m startin’ to feel dizzy, watchin’ you shakin’ it from one side to t’other all the time.’
But Dann continued moving his head. ‘I can see a star shining up ahead. Leastways, it looks like a star, but maybe ’tis just a vision, I’m so tired.’
The shrew pushed his way in front of Dann. ‘Let me take a look, mate. Hah! Yore right, there is somethin’ glimmerin’ up ahead, looks a bit like a star. Come on!’
Pushing their exhausted limbs, they stumbled ahead. The light grew larger, and then Burble shouted joyfully, ‘Yiss yiss, I see it clear now. That ain’t no star, ’tis a gleam o’ daylight. It’s daylight,
I tell yer!’
Renewed energy flooded their bodies and they ran towards the light, laughing and rubbing their paws together like gleeful Dibbuns. Leaving the river course, they climbed upward over piles of stony debris, sliding back in the deep dusty shale. Dann used his sword, digging the blade in and hauling himself up until he reached the light. The young squirrel placed his eye against the hole and peered through.
‘I can see the outside! We’re on the lower slopes of the mountain at the far side. Stay back and I’ll see if I can widen this hole with my sword!’
He stabbed at the hole and was immediately rewarded. A big chunk of rocky earth, with grass growing on it and a sprig of heather, tumbled inward. Dippler and Burble moved it out the way, and sunlight flooded in. They laughed and cried at the same time, letting the warm sun beam in on their dust-grimed faces.
‘Yiss yiss, that’s the good ould sun all right. Go on, Dann, give it a good dig wid yore blade!’
Several more stabs of the sword brought soil, rock, grass, scree and mountain herbage tipping in upon them.
Spitting soil and grit, they climbed out into the sunlit afternoon and sat blinking in the unaccustomed warmth and brightness. Behind them the mountain reared, high and forbidding, below was a woodland with a broad stream running through it.
Dippler pounded Dann’s back, raising a cloud of dust from him. ‘We did it, matey, we did it! Now fer some vittles. I’ll stake me name there’ll be fruit an’ berries growin’ aplenty amid those trees down there. Wot d’you say, Burb?’
‘Oh yiss yiss, an’ they’ll still be there whilst we’re sittin’ about on our tails up ’ere lookin’ at ’em. Come on, let’s eat!’
Stumbling, rolling and scooting on all fours they bumbled their way down from the lower mountain slope into the peaceful green canopy of quiet woodland. Dann made a little camp on the streambank. He found flint in the soil and used dried moss with his steel swordblade to get a small fire going. Dippler and Burble were soon foraging about.
‘Haha! Apples an’ blackberries, loads of ’em!’
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 28
