Sheepishly the big spiky beasts stood away from the cabin door, the males bowing reluctantly to the females.
‘Marm, I pray thee enter.’
Once Torrab and the other hogmaids were inside, the males began fighting each other in the doorway again.
Gawjo smiled. ‘You’ll ’ave to excuse ’em. They’re fine hogs, but they love to fight. Huh, the trouble I ‘ad rearin’ ’em was nobeast’s business. A squirrel dad with fourteen hedgehog sons an’ daughters, who’d believe it. Still, I got me a pretty young granddaughter now, so things are lookin’ up, eh, Song?’
Song hugged her grandpa, whilst Dann looked the Swallow over. ‘How did y’find her, sir?’
Gawjo stroked the sleek resin-varnished hull. ‘Swept downriver out o’ the mountain she was, full o’ holes an’ almost broke in two pieces. That’s why we were searchin’ round the watermeadow. I figgered if’n you were still alive, then that’d be the place you’d land in. Enough jawin’ now, you young ’uns. Time to eat, but first y’must jump in the creek an’ wash the dirt off. Y’ain’t comin’ to my table smellin’ the ways you do. Megraw!’
The osprey waddled up and dealt Song a buffet with his good wing, toppling her over the deckrail into the water. ‘Ah ken ye’ll get a guid scrub, lassie. Who’s next, eh?’
However, before he could raise his wing again, Dann, Dippler and Burble had thrown themselves into the water.
‘Ah now, ye’ve no need to be helpin’ us in, sir, we’ll be after scrubbin’ ourselves, thank ye, yiss yiss!’
Morning sunlight streamed through the cabin’s two unshuttered windows as they took breakfast with Gawjo Swifteye and the hedgehogs. The food was good: hot cornbread with hazelnuts and apple baked into it, and a salad of celery, lettuce, shredded carrot and white button mushrooms, with beakers of hot mint and dandelion tea to wash it down. Megraw took himself out on to the river for a fish breakfast. Gawjo peeled a fat pear with his dagger, outlining his future plans to the reunited friends.
‘Everybeast I’ve come across has a score to settle with the Marlfox brood, meself, Torrab an’ the family, Megraw an’ yoreselves. So I’ve decided that the time’s come when we travel over to that island. Queen Silth an’ her offspring have come to the end of their bullyin’, thievin’, murderin’ rule. I’m out t’clear the earth of their blight!’
Torrab stared at Gawjo over a steaming beaker of tea. ‘Thou hast tried it before, Father. ’Tis too difficult.’
Gawjo tapped the tabletop with his dagger. ‘Aye, we’ve always been defeated. Not by the Marlfoxes, but by the lake, a day and night’s long sail, with the water teemin’ with pike an’ that Athrak an’ his magpies patrollin’ the skies. The Marlfoxes were always waitin’ with their water rats once we’d been sighted by magpies, an’ they could stand us offshore with arrow an’ sling until we were forced to turn back. By the fur an’ fang! If only I could get on to that island an’ free the slaves, we’d overrun Silth and her forces. I never figured how t’do it, until my pretty Song arrived with ’er secret weapon!’
The squirrelmaid put aside her food. ‘You mean our eagle, Megraw? But, Grandpa, he can’t fly!’
Gawjo’s lazy hooded eyes flickered. ‘Are you sure, me young beauty? I’ve been watchin’ yore eagle. There ain’t a pinion feather missin’ from his wing, an’ ’tis not broken anywhere along its length, that wing. I’ve studied the way Megraw carries it, sort o’ flopped down an’ still. Now, I know more about fixin’ injuries than mostbeasts, ask Torrab an’ her crew. The fish eagle’s wing’s not broken, ’tis dislocated, where it meets the bird’s body. I can reset the wing, put it back in its right place so he can fly again!’
‘Do ye no say, Gawjo? Weel, ah’m willin’ tae try et if it’ll mek mah wing able tae fly again!’
Megraw had been standing near the cabin door, listening to what Song’s grandpa was saying. He ambled in, his savage golden eyes flashing. ‘Ah’d like et fine tae get mah beak an’ talons intae yon maggypies whit did this tae me. So, tell us the rest o’ yer gran’ plan, ye auld treehopper.’
The creatures in the cabin crowded round the table as Gawjo Swifteye outlined his scheme, sketching on the tabletop with the point of his dagger. It was a risky proposition, calling for stout hearts and warriors who would not flinch from danger, but it was a good plan. Song watched her grandpa, the stern face and lazy eyes, deceptively quiet voice and perilous easygoing manner. Recalling Janglur Swifteye, her own father, she knew now where he had inherited his bravery and skill as a warrior. Pride flooded through the young squirrelmaid. Swifteyes were a breed of creatures to be reckoned with!
An otter and an aged mouse watched from the slave pens in the courtyard of Castle Marl, as the funeral procession of Queen Silth passed by. In the lead strode the Marlfox Lantur, clad in a purple velvet cloak, trimmed with silver. She wore a polished wood mask, with grieving features etched upon it. Behind her marched the elite guard, armoured in shining black, purple pennants hanging from their spearpoints and shield bosses, blacked with firesmoke. Next came the palanquin, draped with white silk curtains, inside which rested the body of the High Queen Silth, founder of the Marlfox dynasty, wrapped tight in the cloth that had once masqueraded as the White Ghost. The entire thing was borne on the shoulders of threescore paw soldiers with bowed heads and measured steps. All round and about the procession, Athrak and his magpies flew, carrying weeping willow twigs in their claws and cawing harshly over the sound of musicians playing dirges on flutes in time to a steady drumbeat.
The otter shook his head in disgust, whispering to the old mouse, ‘Lookit that ’un walkin’ in front, Lantur. Hah! She’s laughin’ behind that mask, matey, I’d wager a season’s vittles on it. Wot a sham it all is! Everybeast on the island knows Lantur killed ’er own mother. Take my word fer it, cully, there ain’t a beast walks under the sun wickeder’n a Marlfox!’
The aged mouse tugged his otter friend’s whiskers. ‘Stow that kind o’ talk, pal. If Wilce or Ullig ’ears you they’ll ’ave yore ’ead for sure!’
Banks of torches blazed on the plateau at the lake edge where the bearers set the palanquin down. Musicians ceased their playing and Athrak’s magpies fell silent as they perched on the nearby rocks. All that could be heard were the fathomless waters lapping at the steep island sides and night breezes causing the torchlights to whurr softly. The water rat Wilce stepped forward and presented Lantur with a scroll, specially written for the occasion. The Marlfox unrolled it ceremoniously and read its contents in a voice artistically choked with emotion.
‘No more on our isle will your presence be,
Or your voice sound like some silver bell,
Like summer smoke, you have gone from me,
My grief is too mournful to tell.
Great High Queen Silth we commend you,
With loving care to the deep,
May the guardians of waters attend you,
In silent depths of sleep,
Knowing that I, who rule in your place,
Draw all of my wisdom from you,
May show to all, a merciful face,
To your memory, always true!’
Ullig the former Slave Captain took three paces forward, signalling with his spearpoint to the bearers standing immediately behind the palanquin. They lifted the rear carrying poles slowly as the music started again. Tilting at a forward angle, the palanquin was raised above the bearers’ heads. White silk hangings at the palanquin’s front blossomed out, and Silth’s wrapped body slid with a dull splosh into the lake. The body had been weighted with stones, and sank down into the dark waters. All was calm for a brief moment, then the long sleek glint of pike flashed in the torchlight as the ever ravenous predators rushed to the spot and shot down into the deeps, pursuing the grisly object. Lantur removed her mask, and spreading both paws wide over the waters she called out in a high-pitched whine, ‘High Queen Silth is dead!’
Immediately, Wilce and Ullig shouted aloud, ‘Long live High Queen Lantur! Long live High
Queen Lantur!’
The cry was taken up by the attendant crowd of water rats until it became a chant. Lantur inclined her head to one side, smiling shyly as Ullig gestured for silence. ‘What can I say to you, my loyal subjects? I accept!’
Ullig and Wilce were about to lead the cheering when the logboat nosed up to the plateau and Mokkan leapt ashore.
Mokkan had been watching, as usual. He never made a move without first studying the situation shrewdly. From out on the lake he had seen his mother’s body being committed to the deep. Making for those he knew to be the two main conspirators, Mokkan seized Ullig and Wilce by their throats. They blanched in fear. Mokkan spoke in a low grating tone, so none but the two water rats could hear. ‘So this is how you sell out behind my back. Shut up and listen hard. When I give you the nod, both of you get everybeast shouting. And here’s what you’ll shout . . .’
Lantur was beginning to feel uneasy. Of all her brothers and sisters, Mokkan was the slyest of Marlfoxes. She watched him carefully. He came to her, his face wreathed in smiles, and clasping her paws he shook them joyfully. ‘My little sister, High Queen Lantur, what a happy homecoming for me!’
Lantur tried to break Mokkan’s grip on her paws, but he was far too strong. He clasped her more tightly.
‘What fortune, that I should return the very moment you are proclaimed Queen. Alas, I knew our poor mother’s days were numbered, but she’ll rest peacefully, knowing she has you to rule in her stead. But wait. I brought back a thing of great beauty for our mother; it shall be my gift to you, High Queen. Here, let me show it to you!’
Whilst he had been talking, Mokkan had manoeuvred Lantur to the edge of the rock plateau. He called out to the rats who were dumbly sitting in the logboat awaiting orders. ‘Open the tapestry, spread it wide. Captain Ullig, tell your bearers to bring forward the torches. Let everybeast see the prize I have brought from afar to celebrate the start of High Queen Lantur’s reign!’
The onlookers gasped in wonderment as the fantastically woven tapestry of Martin the Warrior was unrolled in the torchlight. All eyes were upon it when Mokkan made his move. With a quick flick of his paws he pushed Lantur into the lake. She screamed once, thrashing about in the wet shreds of her mother’s shroud, which were floating up to the surface. Had she remained still, Lantur might have been pulled to safety. But anything that moved in the waters was fair game to the pike shoals that hunted there. The lakewater boiled briefly as the heavy predators struck, then Lantur was gone. Mokkan nodded to Wilce and Ullig, and they shouted as though their lives depended upon it, which indeed they did.
‘A sign, ’tis a sign! Mokkan is the rightful ruler! Hail High King Mokkan! Hail High King Mokkan!’
The last Marlfox of all turned to face his army, with a look combining tragedy, innocence and surprise. ‘She slipped. I tried my best to hold on to her but she slipped! Alas, I could do nothing to save her. Lantur was taken by the spirit of the lake!’
Wilce and Ullig appealed to the crowd.
‘’Tis a sign, the lake judged her unfit!’
‘Aye, Mokkan rules! Hail High King Mokkan!’
Soon everybeast joined in, shouting themselves hoarse until the din rang across the island.
In the slave pens the otter shook his head woefully at the aged mouse. ‘So that one’s back, eh? I wonder ’ow Mokkan murdered the murderer? I think I’d sooner be a slave than a Marlfox, you live a little longer.’
The old mouse shrugged, resting his head against the bars. ‘Don’t be too sure of it, pal. How long d’ye think we’re goin’ to last with Mokkan as King around here?’
* * *
31
Morning sunlight shimmered on the river. Megraw balanced on the rail of the raft, watched by everybeast aboard. The osprey flapped his reset wing experimentally, then, slightly doubtful, he set his fierce eye upon Gawjo. ‘Mah wing still hurts. Are ye sure et’s fixed?’
‘Sure I’m sure,’ the old squirrel warrior assured his patient. ‘The wing’s bound to hurt, ’tis stiff through bein’ idle. Ye’ll have to try usin’ it. Go on!’
Megraw launched himself from the rail. Flapping madly, he flew a short distance, then crashed into the river. Torrab and Song extended a long punting pole to him, and Megraw grabbed it in his beak, allowing himself to be pulled up on to the bank. He stood shaking water from his plumage. ‘Ach, ah kin fly, ah’m sure o’ et, but ye lot are mekkin’ me nervous, stannin’ there watchin’ me. Gang aboot yer bizness an’ leave me tae mahself!’
‘Sure I’ve seen everythin’ now,’ Burble muttered to one of the big hedgehogs. ‘An eagle who’s too shy to fly? Yiss yiss, that’s the blinkin’ limit!’
Dann threw a paw about the watervole’s shoulders. ‘Oh, let him be, Burb. Come on, Torrab an’ the gang are goin’ to show us how t’make hodgepodge pie.’
In the cabin the hedgehogs were tossing anything they could find into a cauldron, which sat squarely atop a potbellied stove. The four friends had never seen anything like it. Torrab and her gang went at the business of making hodgepodge pie with wild abandon, singing in gruff off-key voices. What they lacked in melodiousness they made up for in volume. Gawjo had heard it all before, and he clapped both paws over his ears to gain a little peace.
‘Oh you take an ’odge, an’ I’ll take a podge,
If anybeast asks us why,
Jus’ tell him that some clever cooks,
Are makin’ ’odgepodge pie.
We start with an ’azelnut an’ a leek,
’Cos they’re wot we likes best,
An’ tho’ they don’t look much to speak,
Till we toss in the rest!
’Odgepodge ’odgepodge, good ole ’odgepodge,
That’s the pie for me,
I’ll scoff it ’ot at suppertime,
Or wolf it cold for tea.
Oh savage a cabbage, tear a turnip,
Rip ripe radishes too,
Chop up chestnuts, they’re the bestnuts,
Chuck in quite a few.
Dannyline ransom, mushrooms ’andsome,
Beetroots nice an’ red,
An’ watercress, that’s more or less,
With piecrust over’ead!
Oh ’odgepodge ’odgepodge, good ole ’odgepodge,
North west east or south,
You can shove it up yore nose, but I suppose,
’Tis better off in yore mouth!
Who loves an ’odgepodge . . . Hedge’ogs!’
Surprisingly enough, when it was served at midday, it looked good and tasted even better. Gawjo fought the hedgehogs off, rapping paws with his ladle and muttering darkly about manners. Then he dug through the thick golden piecrust and ladled out portions to them all, steaming hot and delicious.
Dippler scraped his platter clean and winked at Torrab. ‘Great stuff. I’ll ’ave to remember that recipe. Wot’s it called, podgepodge pie?’
‘Yaakaaareeeeeegh!’
A blood-curdling scream caused them to leap from their chairs. Gawjo went racing out of the cabin, dagger at the ready.
‘Sounds like somethin’ bein’ torn apart by wildbeasts!’
Hustling and shoving, they piled out on to the deck of the raft. The wild cry cleaved the air once more, and a dark shadow fell over them, causing everybeast to duck as something large hurtled by. Song was knocked flat on her back, but she lay there pointing skyward, shouting with joy. ‘It’s the Mighty Megraw! Look, he’s flying!’
With his tremendous wingspread stretching, closing, backing and flapping, the osprey flew as none had ever seen such a big bird fly. Soaring, wheeling, plummeting and twirling out of dives like a corkscrew, Megraw put on an exhibition of flight for his earthbound friends, sometimes skimming so low that his wing pinions clipped their ears. Song felt her heart soar with the eagle. She was thrilled that his wing was healed due to her grandpa’s skill.
‘Go on, Megraw, fly! Fly! Fly!’
And Megraw did just that. Winging up into the blue until he was a mere
speck in the summer sky, he turned and did several victory rolls. Folding both wings tight to his side, the eagle dropped like a thunderbolt towards the raft, and for a breathless moment Song thought he would smash into the deck. But he spread his wings again, and the mighty talons shot out as he swooped and landed on the rail, where he stood with both wings spread to their extent. For the first time since she had met her friend, Song saw the fish eagle in his element. Filled with the exhilaration of his own savage strength, Megraw flapped his wings, shouting aloud his challenge. ‘Ah’m the eagle whit kin outfly a lightnin’ flash! Mah egg was broken by the thunderstorm! Kareeeeeegha! Megraw rules the skies tae the world’s edge! These talons o’ Mighty Megraw cuid plough a field o’ rocks! Oh weep, ye foebeast, there’s a braw bonny bird a-comin’ yer way! Karaaaaagh!’
Gawjo nodded in admiration of Megraw’s brave display. ‘I take it yore about ready to go to the lake?’
The fierce golden eye winked at him. ‘Aye, laddie, ah ken ye’ll be comin’ wi’ me?’
Gawjo Swifteye picked up a long raft pole. He nodded at Megraw and his crew. ‘This very day!’
Out on the river it was broad and fast flowing. The hedgehogs would not let Song or her friends use the raft poles, so they worked on the Swallow, putting the finishing touches to their sleek craft. Torrab and the others formed two lines, port and starboard, and they punted deep with their poles. Gawjo sat on the stern rail, using a broad paddle as a rudder to steer the sprawling vessel. By mid-noon they were cruising free along a wide calm stretch, while the crew sat eating cold hodgepodge pie and drinking cider, watching the raft drift steadily downriver. Song joined her grandpa at the stern rail and showed him her parchment, torn, tattered and barely decipherable from the batterings it had endured.
‘Grandpa, ’tis not very clear now, but there were a few lines of the rhyme here, let me see now. Ah, here it is.
‘And should you live to seek the lake,
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 31
