‘Popplepaws yoreself, ole baggybarrel-belly! Yahahaha!’
Torrab poked her head round the cabin door. ‘Be there any within to relieve the watch this day?’
She was greeted with a barrage of impudent merriment.
‘Go ’way, spikybonce!’
‘Aye, push off, needlenose!’
‘Out in the rain with ye, soggyhog!’
‘Go an’ watch yoreself, squelchspines!’
The burly hogmaid grinned and called to Megraw, ‘What about thee, binnaclebeak?’
Dropping down from the window, Megraw spread his massive wings and glared about him savagely, raising a hooked talon. ‘Whit was that ye callit me, marm? Nary a beast livin’ meks sport o’ the Mighty Megraw!’
A moment later they were all out on the deck, soaking in the rain, gazing at the locked cabin door.
Burble sighed. ‘Sure, an’ I wonder why ’tis that eagles don’t have any sense o’ humour at all. We had to run for our lives there!’
Megraw sat alone in the locked cabin, muttering darkly, ‘Naebeast speaks ill o’ mither Megraw’s eggchick. Ye’ll stay oot in the elements until ye apologize tae me!’
Apart from the skies louring darker a little, noon, twilight and evening remained virtually the same. Sheeting rain driving southward in heavy curtains over the lake surface as far as the eye could see, with a moderate wind spurring the raft ever onward towards the island. Megraw had been placated, but he deserted the cabin, choosing to stay on deck beneath a canvas awning, watching for sign of magpies. Gawjo lashed the tiller in position and joined his crew in the warm, cosy cabin, where a cheerful fire glowed within the pot-bellied stove.
He lifted the lid from a cauldron, sniffing the simmering aroma. ‘By the seasons, that smells good’n’ decent. Wot is it?’
Dippler checked the contents, sprinkling in a pawful of sweet ground arrowroot to thicken up the sauce further.
‘That’s a seagoin’ recipe, sir, called skilly’n’duff. Log a Log used t’make it for the Guosim, when we followed the waters down to the great ocean.’
Torrab hovered about the young shrew impatiently. ’Twill soon be ready, I trust?’
Dippler added more of the arrowroot and stirred it slowly. ‘Aye, soon now. The skilly is a thick sweet sauce with all manner o’ good things in. That big pudden floatin’ about in it is the duff, stuffed with wild plums, damsons, blackberries an’ chopped chestnuts, all cased up in a ball o’ spongy pastry, bit like a great dumplin’. Nothin’ like it to cheer up a body on a rainy ole night, you’ll see!’
The entire crew voted Dippler’s skilly’n’duff delicious, some of the big hedgehogs noting down the recipe for use on winter nights. The Guosim shrew recalled a comic seagoing monologue concerning the dish.
‘Aboard the good ship Wobblechop,
I sailed when I was young,
First in line an’ feelin’ fine,
When the dinner bell was rung.
Our Cap’n ’ad a fog’orn voice,
An’ boots as big as me,
“Stand by, me lads, ’ere comes a ship,
’Tis a pirate craft!” cried he.
Whoa skilly’n’duff, that’s the stuff,
To keep nearby when things get rough!
The pirate Cap’n was a rat,
His name was Itchee Scratch,
Upon his nose, why goodness knows,
He wore a red eyepatch.
“Haul to, ye dozy lubbers,
I’m fat’n’bad an’ tough,
An’ I smells plunder on the air,
Wot might be skilly’n’ duff.”
Whoa skilly’n’duff, that’s the stuff,
Us waterbeasts can’t get enough!
Well I tell you, me word ’tis true,
Our crew got quite upset,
To rob a sailor’s dinner was,
The worst thing we’d ’eard yet,
So we put down our bowls’n’ spoons,
Then armed ourselves with slings,
We slung at those ole pirate rats,
A dozen kinds o’ things.
Whoa skilly’n’duff, that’s the stuff,
To eat whilst fightin’ searats gruff!
That pirate Cap’n he got shot,
By a barrel load of peas,
Wot blacked his eyes an’ stung his thighs,
An’ fractured all his knees.
We hit the crew with onion skins,
Big cabbage stalks as well,
With hardcrust pies an’ ’orrible cries,
They splashed into the swell.
Whoa skilly’n’duff, that’s the stuff,
When vermin crews you must rebuff!
As Wobblechop sailed away that day,
We sang a jolly song,
The bottlenosed cook with laughter shook,
As the dinner bell went bong.
I’m old an’ fat with a greasy hat,
But this to you I say,
I must’ve scoffed a score o’ bowls,
Of skilly’n’duff that day.
Whoa skilly’n’duff, that’s the stuff,
When winter winds do howl’n’ puff!’
High King Mokkan slept, though not peacefully or well, that night. The Marlfox’s dreams were a nightmare of disjointed visions. Lantur, the sister he had slyly murdered, kept trying to drag him into the pike-infested lake, smiling wickedly at him and repeating a hollow chant.
‘Never trust a vixen, never trust a vixen!’
He turned to run, but was confronted by the brothers and sisters he had deserted. Their faces pale and wan, they pointed accusingly at him, murmuring, ‘Blood for blood, a Marlfox lies slain, somebeast must pay, blood calls for blood!’
He fled from them and, seeking safety, found himself leaping into his mother’s palanquin. However, he was surrounded not by a silk curtain, but by the tapestry from Redwall Abbey. Stern-faced and fearless, the mouse warrior figure stepped out from the tapestry and raised his magnificent sword. Panic such as he had never known seized Mokkan. With the blood in his veins like ice water, he hurled himself from the palanquin. Time stood still, and the Marlfox stumbled slowly to the ground, only to find himself confronted by others. A grim-faced young squirrel wielding the same sword that the warrior mouse had brandished, a squirrelmaid armed with a rod tipped by a glowing green stone, a great black and white eagle, talons spread, beak open. Creatures he could not identify, a watervole, a shrew, hedgehogs, all gathered around him, and his mother’s voice echoed mockingly in the gloom.
‘Hail, High King Mokkan, last of the Marlfox brood!’
Grabbing his cloak, he hid his face in it and screamed, but the scream died to a whimper as the cloak tightened around his throat, threatening to strangle him. ‘No, please, noooooooo!’
Mokkan woke on the floor of his bedchamber with a silken sheet, which had become caught on a bedpost as he rolled about trying to escape the dark world of fearful slumber, wrapped tightly about his neck. Throwing open the chamber door, he glared wildly at the two water rat sentries standing immobile in the flickering torchlight. They gazed back dully at the new High King, panting, dishevelled, with a bedsheet draped round his neck. Slamming the door, he retreated back into the bedchamber, taking a deep draught of wine from a pitcher and tossing aside the sheet. Then he stood at the window, letting the rain cool his fevered brow, staring out into the dark wet night. What acts of murder and treachery had his own mother committed that she too always slept uneasily? Was this what it was like to gain the power of kingship?
* * *
33
Gawjo had taken the last night watch on deck. The rain slacked off to a steady drizzle before dawn when the old squirrel warrior returned to the cabin. Checking that the stove fire was burned down to white ashes, he unshuttered both windows.
Megraw stirred from his perch on a shelf. ‘Ah ken et’ll be a big day taeday, auld ’un?’
Gawjo Swifteye was still nimble and strong, despite his many seasons. He took down a shor
t lance from the motley array of weaponry hanging from the wall. ‘Aye, friend, ’twill be a big day, shorter for some than others before ’tis over. Come on, crew, stir yoreselves, the island of Marlfoxes is in sight!’
Song stared around herself in the half-light. Her grandpa and the hedgehogs were ready and armed.
Burble sat up rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘Well, wotever happens later can wait, yiss yiss, I’m hungry right now, so I am!’
Dippler and Dann were already at the table, helping themselves to warm fruit cordial and oatcakes that had been baked the night before.
Megraw hopped up to an open window. ‘Nae use awaitin’ for yon maggypies tae find us, ah’m thinkin’. This time ah’ll catch them nappin’. Guid luck, see ye later!’ Launching himself from the windowsill, the great eagle sailed off into the rising dawnstreaked skies.
Gawjo addressed his remaining crew. ‘Friends, you all know wot t’do. Dann, we’ll give you an’ Torrab until mid-mornin’. Is the Swallow ready?’
Dann strapped the sword across his back, nodding to Torrab and the other four hedgehogs he would be travelling with. ‘She’s ready sir, well stocked with weapons too.’
Gawjo shook the young squirrel’s paw heartily. ‘Luck go with ye, Dannflor Reguba!’
Song, Dippler and Burble pushed the boat out from the raft’s port side. Sitting behind the hedgehogs, Dann waved his paddle. ‘See you later, mates, I hope!’
The three friends waved to him silently, then stood by their poling positions at the side rails. Gawjo called out from the stern, where he sat plying the tiller, ‘No time to waste, crew. Let’s get there quick as we can!’
All eyes were fixed on the mysterious island looming up, dark and forbidding, with Castle Marl dominating its rocky landing plateau.
Owing to the previous day’s events, when the rule of the island had changed so swiftly, the castle courtyards, front and back, lay silent. Mokkan had let the guards celebrate, and they were not yet up and about. In the slave pens the captives were beginning to stir. An old mouse stood with his face pressed to the bars. Behind him a grizzled otter hauled himself stiffly up from the damp straw which served them as bedding. ‘Wot’s ‘appenin’ out there, matey?’
The mouse was joined by a sturdy hedgehog maid. ‘Well, it ain’t brekkfist, that’s for shore. Where’s the guards today? Still sleepin’, I suppose.’
‘They’ll appear all in good time. After all, we ain’t goin’ nowheres, are we?’ called a squirrel slave from the back of the pen.
The mouse chuckled humourlessly at his dry remark. ‘Right enough there, friend. We may’s well make the best of our extra rest. Better’n toilin’ in the fields drenched by that rain we had yesterday. I’m still damp all over.’
They sat in silence for a while, watching the clear dawn rise, thankful that the rain had ceased. The otter suddenly cocked his head on one side, listening. ‘Wot was that noise? I ’eard a funny sound.’
‘Prob’ly my stomach tellin’ me mouth it’s time to eat.’
Catching the hedgehog’s paw, the otter silenced her. ‘No, it wasn’t that, mate. Lissen!’
Something metallic clinked against the back walltop, then clinked again as it fell back. There was a whirring noise, followed by a brief silence. A thick knotted rope flew down past the bars with a three-pronged grappling hook tied to its end which hit the courtyard stones with a ringing clank. Dumbfounded for a moment, they stood looking at it, then the hogmaid moved swiftly. Grabbing a piece of wet sacking, she lay flat and flopped it through the bars. It caught on the grapples, and she pulled it back in until the hook was in her reach. Her paws shook with excitement as she held on to the rope and the grappling hook.
The old mouse gazed at it in disbelief as the other slaves crowded round. ‘Why’d anybeast want to throw that to us?’
Wedging the hook firmly between the bars, the otter gave the rope three sharp tugs. He too was shaking all over. ‘One thing’s shore, it ain’t Marlfoxes, water rats or magpies. Whoever ’tis they must be friends. Let’s ’elp ’em!’
Dann came shinning over the back wall. At the top he gave a swift look around, then signalled down to the hedgehogs below. A moment later he had dropped down into the courtyard and was staring into the pen at the emaciated slaves pressing forward to the bars. Unshouldering his sword, he flashed them a quick smile. ‘Good morrow to ye, mates. I’m Dann Reguba. Anybeast fancy bein’ liberated today?’
Raising the sword high, he swung it down energetically, shearing the lock from the slave pen door with one mighty swipe. Slaves stood gawping in amazement. Dann swung the door open as they found their tongues.
‘Did y’see that? He chopped off the lock an’ his blade ain’t even nicked. By thunder, that’s some kind o’ sword, mates!’
‘Dann Reguba, wot sort o’ name is that?’
‘I know, I’ve ’eard it afore. That ’un’s a mighty warrior, I’m with him. Woe t’the beast who stands in the way of a Reguba!’
A shudder of pride ran through Dann. He strode into the cage and was surrounded by creatures trying to shake his paw, all of them with tears in their eyes at the unexpected arrival of help. Torrab followed with her hedgehogs, bundles of arms strapped to their backs. They passed out spears, slings, blades and javelins to the eager captives. An otter spoke for his fellow slaves as he loaded stone into sling. ‘Just say the word, Dann. We’re with you all the way, mate!’
Dann closed the door, hanging the broken lock back in place. ‘Sit tight here, friends, you’ll get the word soon enough!’
Overhead a harsh screeching of birdcall cut the morning air, followed by a mighty flutter of wings and the hunting call of an eagle. Feathers fell like a miniature snowstorm into the courtyard. Dann had no need to look. He knew the Mighty Megraw was wreaking vengeance upon his enemies. Magpies shrieked harshly with terror, more feathers swirled to the courtyard stones and floated into the pen. Slaves ran to the bars, clutching at them as they struggled to catch a glimpse of retribution being visited on the hateful birds, straining and craning their necks upward, pushing against the bars.
‘An eagle, ’tis a great eagle up there, huntin’ magpies!
There was a thud on the pen roof, and the huddled carcass of Athrak rolled off on to the stones below.
‘The eagle’s slain Athrak! Look, look!’
From above, the osprey’s warcry could be heard as he pursued magpies out across the lake.
‘Remember me, mah bonny bairns, ah’m no half asleep an’ helpless now, ah’m the Mighty Megraw, death on wings tae ye! Krrreeeeegaaaaah!’
Guards came tumbling out of their barracks, still sleepy-eyed, buckling on armour and stumbling over weapons. Dann kicked open the slave pen door, and hurtled out with an army of slaves brandishing weapons behind him.
‘Chaaaaaarge!’
The raft thudded in against the rocky plateau. Song and her grandpa leapt ashore as mooring ropes snaked out behind them. Securing the raft, Gawjo was forced to duck as a small cloud of magpies sped low overhead, pursued by the Mighty Megraw. They fled out across the lake with the eagle hard on their tails like some avenging beast.
Gawjo gripped Song’s paw as the sound of Dann and his slave army giving their battle cry rang out from the castle above. ‘Stay by me, pretty one. The family’d never forgive me if anythin’ happened to you. On the double, crew!’
They charged up the slope towards Castle Marl, slamming the gatehouse door shut as they passed and locking the half-awake guards inside. As they burst into the front courtyard, Song caught a glimpse of Mokkan at an upper chamber window. At once she remembered the original purpose of their quest.
‘Dipp, Burb, there’s the Marlfox. Come on, that’s where the tapestry must be!’
For Mokkan it was like a continuation of his nightmare. There below in the courtyard of Castle Marl, the creatures he had fled from in dreams were staring boldly up at him. Fear gripped the Marlfox and he looked about wildly, seeking an avenue of escape. The shrew logboat he had
arrived in still lay moored to one side of the rock plateau which served as a jetty. That was it! Dashing from his room he motioned at the two guards posted outside. ‘Follow me! Slay anybeast who tries to stop your King!’
They ran obediently with him, along the corridor sloping upward to Wilce’s former room, which now belonged to Toolam, Commander of the army. Mokkan burst in on the slumbering rat. ‘Rouse yourself, fool, foebeasts are at large in the castle!’
Toolam rushed to get his new armour on over a voluminous nightgown, then hefted his heavy spear. ‘Er, sire, your word is my command, er, y’Majesty!’
‘Muster the soldiers, every one, sweep these invaders from my island, slay them or take them prisoner! I will see you when this incident is finished. Fail me and you will go to serve the Teeth of the Deeps. Go now. You two, go with him!’
When they had gone, Mokkan dropped his heavily embroidered cloak of kingship and slunk swiftly down to the main chamber. There he donned his old cloak of dull brown and green weave. Immediately a transformation came over him, and his pale eyes glowed. Now he was a proper Marlfox once more, and everybeast knew that Marlfoxes were magic, invisible! Blending in with the stones of the wall, Mokkan slipped off down the back corridors.
Burble panted along with Dippler in Song’s wake, staring around in puzzlement. ‘Dipp, will y’look at this place, there’s neither step nor stair anywheres, ’tis all slopes, yiss yiss?’
Song rounded on the pair and pulled them into a darkened alcove, beckoning them to silence as the sound of clanking spears against breastplates reached her ears. ‘Somebeast dashing down to the courtyard. Stand by!’
Toolam and the two water rat sentries came into view, hurrying clumsily down the slope. Song whispered, ‘One each, wait until they pass!’
No sooner were the three vermin past the alcove than Song and her two friends hit them from behind. Amid a resounding jumble of weaponry and armour the three rats crashed headlong into the wallstones and slid down senseless. Song could not resist a slight giggle.
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 33
