Martin The Warrior (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  ‘Druwp!’

  The treacherous bankvole did not turn. He knew who was calling him. He tried to squeeze through the gap back into the stockade but found his way blocked by the slaves inside.

  ‘Out of my way or I’ll report you!’

  Those were the last words that Druwp spoke. Felldoh threw the spear, harder than he had ever thrown anything. It found its mark between the traitor’s shoulder blades.

  ‘Jump!’

  Holding Barkjon between them, Felldoh and Tullgrew leaped from the walltop into the night. It was a good drop, but the straw-packed mattresses broke their fall. The others were waiting for them. They looked this way and that, unsure which would be the best direction to take in the darkness. Suddenly a nearby rumbling caused them to crouch down in the wall shadows, and a voice rang out.

  ‘What ho, is that the disappearin’ fox?’

  Felldoh gave a sigh of relief. ‘Ballaw! I see you managed to escape safely.’

  ‘Rather! Though at the moment there’s a posse of pirates hot on our paws. I say, have you got ladies an’ young uns there?’

  ‘Aye, and a wounded father, and any moment now Badrang’ll be coming over that wall with his horde.’

  ‘Calls for a bit of quick thinkin’, wot? Righto! Get the babes, mothers an’ wounded into the cart. Everybeast fit to run get pushin’, but wait until I give the word . . . Wait for it . . .’

  The sound of Clogg’s crew rounding the outside of the back wall blended with the shouts of Badrang and his horde, who had now reached the walltop. Ballaw kicked the last of the straw mattresses away into the night and joined his friends at the cart.

  ‘Head south smartly now. Look alive, you chaps. Go!’

  The wheels of the small wagon nearly left the ground as it shot forward, propelled by every able-bodied creature. In moments it had clattered off into the darkness.

  Badrang pushed Hisk and Gurrad off the walltop. Grabbing others, he began shoving them off into space.

  ‘Jump, you lily-livered toads. The slaves did it easily enough. Come on, you there, Nipwort, Fleabane. Jump!’

  Bodies went flying from the walltop. Horde soldiers shut their eyes and leaped, preferring the drop to Badrang’s towering anger.

  The removal of the cushioning straw sacks made the landing hard for those who did not land on the heads of Cap’n Tramun Clogg and several of his crew members.

  Ballaw had judged his timing right. Confusion reigned in the darkness as the corsair crew and the Tyrant’s horde fought each other tooth and claw in the night.

  19

  A MONSTER STOOD on the path in front of Rose. It had the body of a fox, the talons of an owl and a huge snakelike head with three big goggling eyes surmounted above rows of fearsome teeth. Dashing madly along to where the dreadful screams were issuing from, the mousemaid tried to stop at the sight of the horrendous apparition. Grumm and Pallum cannoned into her back, sending her staggering straight into the arms of the nightmare beast. She screamed aloud in terror as she blundered into its embrace.

  Then it collapsed on the path in a dusty heap. Straw, grass, bark, dead ferns and feathers swirled everywhere.

  Rose sneezed, spitting out a mouthful of downy fur as Pallum and Grumm came gingerly forward to help her up.

  ‘Burr, wot be et?’

  ‘Huh, Mirdop, it’s nothing but a great big doll hanging from the trees by bits of creeper!’

  Rose dusted herself down, looking around wildly. ‘Where’s Martin?’

  The horrendous screams had stopped. To one side of the path Martin sat upon a great hollow log, chuckling quietly. ‘Bravo, Rose. You’ve just slain your first Mirdop!’

  The mousemaid looked flustered. ‘But how . . . and you . . . those screams . . .?’

  ‘Come over here and I’ll show you.’

  Martin bent beside the hollow log and called aloud, ‘Go back, for I am the Mirdop and I will slay you!’

  The sound thundered and reverberated around the forest, magnified by the hollow ash log.

  Grumm uncovered his ears when the noise faded.

  ‘But oo wurr a-doen all ’ee shouten?’

  Martin took them around the other side of the big log to where four rabbits, obviously mother, father and two young, were lying slumped.

  ‘Oh dear, you haven’t killed them, Martin?’ Rose gasped.

  The young mouse shook his head and smiled. ‘Of course not. I couldn’t harm creatures like these. I sneaked up and saw what they were doing, so I thought I’d take a leaf out of your book, Rose.’

  The mousemaid looked mystified, then Martin explained. ‘Remember, the warrior who uses the voice instead of the sword? Well, I crept up behind them and started yelling as loud and horrible as I could. Of course, being new at this sort of thing, I suppose I underestimated the power of my cries. The rabbits seemed to freeze then fainted right away!’

  Rose hurried to the side of the two babes. She stroked them tenderly until they began whimpering and moving. ‘Poor little things. You great bully, Martin. Fancy doing an awful thing like that!’

  Grumm and Pallum had to hide their faces to stop bursting out laughing at the sight of Martin, paws outstretched in bewilderment.

  ‘I didn’t hurt them. What was I supposed to do, set about them with my sword, or ask them nicely to please stop terrorizing travellers? You’re the one who went and destroyed their Mirdop. Bully yourself!’

  Rose fussed about, wetting the older rabbits’ mouths with water until they revived. Instantly they drew back in horror.

  ‘Aagh! Go away, you savage creatures. Which one is Grumm the Growler, and who is Pallum the Mighty and Rose the Slayer?’

  Grumm tugged his snout respectfully at the female rabbit.

  ‘Hurr ’tis oi, marm. But oi doant mean ’ee no ’arm.’

  Martin took a slightly stronger line with them. ‘Er, just a moment, please. I think it’s we should be asking the questions. What d’you mean by shouting threats and trying to intimidate travellers on this path?’

  The father rabbit held a shaky paw to his brow. ‘Please, not so loud, we’re really delicate creatures, you know. Allow me to introduce us. I’m Fescue, this is my wife Mildwort and these are the twins Burnet and Buttercup. Mirdop’s the family name, hence the, er, figure we have to keep away intruders.’

  ‘Oh yes, it was Fescue’s great Grandpa who built it,’ his wife interrupted. ‘One never knows what horrid types of beast want to wander abroad on our path. Please don’t harm us, we were only protecting ourselves.’

  Rose sat by Mildwort Mirdop and spoke soothingly. ‘We wouldn’t dream of harming a nice little family like yours. I’m sorry we frightened you, but we were rather scared ourselves with all that threatening and roaring you were doing.’

  Fescue laughed nervously. ‘Er yes, haha, rather good, wasn’t it? By the way, have you had tea yet?’

  Grumm’s stomach made a small gurgle as he rubbed it. ‘Us’ns be allus ready furr vittles, zurr. Do you’m ’ave zoop?’

  Mildwort stared down her snub nose at the mole. ‘Hardly. Soup is not good for one at this time of day. Follow me, please.’

  They followed the Mirdop family down into their burrow. It was large, comfortable and spotless. Behind their backs, Pallum made a snooty gesture with paw to nose, and Grumm nodded in agreement.

  Tea was a very formal affair in the Mirdop burrow. First the guests were given lavender-scented soap, warm water and soft barktowels to wash and dry their paws. The two young rabbits were sent back several times until their parents were satisfied that their paws were cleaned properly, then they all sat down at a small table.

  Mildwort Mirdop brought a large pot of steaming mint tea with honey to go in it, a platter of wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches and seven tiny oat scones, each lightly spread with raspberry preserve. She seated herself, and in the silence that followed murmured quietly to her husband; ‘The grace before tea, dear.’

  Fescue coughed gently to clear his throat. They all stared down at the
spotless tablecloth while he repeated the grace.

  ‘For all we receive for tea,

  Thanks to the seasons be.

  Partake we sparingly

  Of this good meal.’

  As they each chose a cucumber sandwich, Mildwort scolded Burnet. ‘Sandwiches first, scones later. Put it back please.’

  Baby Burnet scowled slightly. ‘Scones are my fav’rite.’

  Fescue tweaked his ear lightly. ‘Baby bunnies should be seen and not heard, Burnet. Don’t talk back to your mother. How many times must we tell you!’

  The meal was eaten rather quickly in polite frosty silence. Grumm made a sucking noise as he drained his teacup and sat back. ‘Hurr, they’m noice scones, marm. Oi’m partial to a noice scone.’

  Mildwort sniffed. ‘So are we, Mr Grumm. There are more in the cupboard for tomorrow.’

  Fescue smiled nervously as he nodded agreement. ‘Indeed there are, dear. No sense in overstuffing with food. Er, you say you are bound for Noonvale. I’ve no idea where the place is. We’ve always lived by our path, never moved away. I’m afraid I can’t give you any directions, but I’m sure that from here you’ll have to cross the west marshes. My advice to you is watch out for lizards. Nasty things – cannibals, I might add!’

  Baby Burnet nodded and agreed with his father. ‘Cabbinals!’

  ‘Burnet!’ Fescue looked severely at him. ‘Do not interrupt your elders and betters. You are excused from the table. You too, Buttercup. Don’t stray far from the burrow and try to keep clean. Bedtime soon.’

  Like two silent shadows, the little ones got down from their chairs, bobbed a curtsy and a bow to the guests and left the burrow with their mother’s voice ringing in their ears.

  ‘Walk, don’t run. How many times must I tell you!’

  As she cleared away the tea things from under the noses of the still hungry travellers, she said in a strained voice. ‘You are welcome to stay the night in our burrow.’

  Rose kicked Grumm beneath the table as he searched for crumbs. ‘How nice of you, Mrs Mirdop, but we wouldn’t dream of imposing upon your good nature. Besides, we have a long journey ahead of us and we must go while there is still daylight. Er, you mentioned cannibal lizards, Mr Mirdop?’

  Fescue Mirdop helped his wife to fold the tablecloth. ‘Oh yes, so I did. Right, here’s what you must do. At the edge of the forest the marshes begin. Find the place called Marshwood Hill. If the lizards trouble you, then strike the gong you will see hanging from a hornbeam tree. The Warden will take care of you. He’s such a nice creature, isn’t he, dear?’

  Mildwort Mirdop nodded vigorously. ‘Oh yes, the Warden of Marshwood Hill, a very, very nice creature!’

  They took their leave of the Mirdops, thanking them for a pleasant stay. Mr and Mrs Mirdop waved before retreating back down their burrow. Grumm rummaged through their ration packs until he found some candied acorns and chestnuts. The two baby Mirdops were playing in front of the burrow, and he gave them a pawful each of the nuts.

  ‘Yurr, babbies, eat’m oop noice’n messy loik. They’m guid’n sweet.’

  Further along the path, Martin and Rose fell about laughing as Pallum imitated the hungry Grumm at tea, taking both the parts of the mole and Mrs Mildwort Mirdop.

  ‘Burr, oi’m pow’ful ’ungry, give oi a scone, missus!’

  ‘No no, you nasty rough mole, one is quite sufficient!’

  ‘Hurr, then give oi summ zoop, marm.’

  ‘Soup? Lack a season, the ruffian will eat us out of house and burrow. Go away and be off with you, you gluttonous beast!’

  Grumm drew his ladle and shook it at Pallum. ‘One moor wurd out of ’ee an’ oi’ll raise a bump on you’m spikers!’

  Late that evening they reached the forest edge. Standing on a small rise, they looked down on the great West Marshes spreading as far as the eye could see. Grasshoppers chirruped in the short hillgrass and myriad swarms of flies and midges were everywhere.

  Rose shooed a cloud away with a dead fern. ‘Whew! I’m not sleeping the night out here. Let’s go back and camp in the fringe of the trees. We can face this lot in the morning.’

  They slumped down wearily beneath a sycamore and a beech. A slithering nearby caused Martin to jump up. Two long slowworms snaked away hissing noisily, disturbed from their rest. The creatures made no move to attack, but Martin stood with short sword drawn watching them slither down the side of the rise toward the marshes. Pallum began collecting dry firewood and digging a shallow pit.

  ‘It’s all right, they’re only slowworms. Evil-looking reptiles, they do lots of hissing but they can’t really harm you. Right, Grumm, what’ll it be? Cucumber sandwiches or one scone apiece?’

  The mole was busy digging out some mushrooms he had found. He looked up, shaking soil from his snout energetically. ‘Zoop, we’m ’aven zoop! Aye, an’ oi’ll make a pudden too, wi’ some apple an’ blackberries growen over yonder.’

  Night fell warm and mild, with the small fire burning red as they sat around it, well fed and satisfied with their day’s progress.

  ‘Tut tut, Mr Grumm the Growler,’ Rose teased Grumm. ‘If I were you I’d put half that pudding away for the morrow. You’ve eaten far too much already and it’s way past your bedtime!’

  The mole looked up from a ladleful of pudding and snorted, ‘Oi should’ve left you’m be’oind wi’ they Mirkdops, mizzy. Teach you’m some manners, hurr!’

  They watched a full moon move silently from behind pillowy night-cloud formations, it hung in the sky like a still, new-polished silver coin.

  The two slowworms had returned. With them was a band of lizards twoscore strong. Their tongues slid silently in and out, filmy eyes blinking constantly against the dry warmth of the night. The two slowworms indicated where the sleeping travellers lay by thrusting their heads forward and hissing. The lizard leader, a great red-frilled reptile, nodded his head slowly as he watched the glow from the red embers of the fire dying lower. Soon the fire would be cold and the four travellers deep in sleep. The lizards waited patiently, watching their leader, waiting for him to move.

  20

  IT WAS FULLY dawn when the escaped slaves and the Rambling Rosehip Players made their way back to the hide-out on the southern cliffs. Puffing and panting, they threw themselves down on the grass and lay in the cool morning breeze. Gauchee came later than the rest. She had been watching their backtrack, covering the cart marks and keeping a wary eye peeled for pursuers. The mouse sat with her back to the cart.

  ‘Nobeast following us, they must still be busy fighting among each other.’

  Ballaw flopped his long ears thoughtfully from side to side. ‘Maybe so, but they’ll try and find us. I can’t imagine old Badthingy lettin’ half his slaves an’ us off that lightly. We’d be best postin’ a guard. I’ll take first watch, me an’ this jolly-lookin’ young mousey feller here. What’s your name, sir?’

  ‘They call me Juniper.’

  ‘Righto, Juno, me old nipper, you an’ me are first guard.’

  Rowanoak blew tenderly on her paws. ‘Ooh, that’s better! This dashing about all night doesn’t suit me any more. Not as young as I used to be. Kastern, what are you up to this morning?’

  ‘Well, there’s lot of new mouths to feed,’ the sensible young mousemaid explained, ‘so I’m going to organize a forage party, see what we can find to swell our larder out a bit. I’ll take some of our new companions when they’ve had a rest and a bite of breakfast.’

  Rowanoak liked to keep her paw on the pulse of activities in camp. She sat down and began massaging her footpaws.

  ‘Hmm, good idea. Who’s on cooking duties this morning?’

  Trefoil wiped wheat flour from her paws on a dockleaf. ‘It looks like it’s me again. I did it yesterday too. That Celandine was supposed to take her turn today, but she’s probably off fluttering her pretty eyelashes at the new arrivals and enchanting them all.’

  ‘Oh, is she. Well, I’m not having any of that!’ Rowanoak stood up decisi
vely. ‘There are no shirkers in this troupe, everybeast pulls their weight. Where is she? Celandine! Celandine, it’s no use hiding, missy. I want a word with you, m’lady!’

  Rowanoak searched the camp several times before she began to get worried. Nobeast had seen the pretty squirrelmaid.

  Ballaw left sentry duty a moment to call an assembly.

  ‘Attention please. Has anyone seen Celandine?’

  Barkjon held a healing poultice of herbs to his injured shoulder. The wound was not as serious as it had appeared the previous night. Felldoh held his father’s head upright as Brome fed him soup from a scallop shell.

  ‘Drink up, sir. This is made from green nettles and I don’t know what, supposed to help recovery.’

  The old squirrel licked his lips as he finished the soup. ‘It tastes very nice. What’s going on over there, some sort of meeting?’

  ‘It’s a young squirrelmaid, one of the company, she’s missing.’

  Barkjon sat up a bit, resting his back against his son’s paws. With his eyes half-closed he nodded slowly. ‘I remember now. Was she an extremely pretty creature?’

  Brome put aside the empty shell. ‘Oh yes, d’you recall her?’

  ‘Indeed I do. Though I was only half conscious, I remember seeing her face over the back of the cart as she pushed. I thought she was the nicest-looking squirrel I had ever seen. I must have dozed off awhile, because when I woke she wasn’t there any more. Perhaps she tripped and fell.’

  ‘Aye.’ Brome nodded, recalling the wild dash from Marshank. ‘We were going so fast that nobeast would have noticed. She’s either lost or captured by now.’

  Felldoh laid his father down carefully. ‘If she’s lost I’ll find her.’