Martin The Warrior (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  Old Geum grasped the rope. Gazing upwards, she pursed her lips. ‘I’ll never be able to haul myself up there. What d’you think I am, a young squirrel?’

  ‘I don’t know about a young squirrel. Mother, but you’ll be a dead mouse if you hang about here!’

  Felldoh threw Geum across his shoulder with a single heave and began hauling himself up the rope.

  Buckler and six others launched a salvo of short javelins directly at the horde. Four of Badrang’s creatures fell. The rest parted ranks, spreading themselves to avoid being hit. All of the escapers were now on the ropes, scrambling up the steep cliff face, fear of their pursuers and the scent of freedom lending speed to their paws. Felldoh had delivered Geum and hopped back down without using the ropes. Now he was on his way back up with two small young ones clinging to his tail. Buckler and the others were backed up hard to the cliffside as the horde advanced on them. Two had been brought down by spears from Badrang’s creatures. Rowanoak looked worriedly down as she called to them, ‘Get on the ropes! Come up here!’

  Brome and those on the clifftop began hurling javelins and slingstones to cover their friends’ retreat.

  Badrang dashed forward as Buckler began scrambling up the rope. He picked up a fallen javelin and hurled it. The mole cried out in agony as it took him through the shoulder.

  ‘Hold tight, Buckler, hold tight!’ Rowanoak bellowed furiously as she seized the rope in both paws and heaved mightily.

  Badrang leaped for the rope but found himself grasping dust. Despite the fact that there were six others climbing the rope above Buckler, the strength of Rowanoak’s tremendous pulls made the whole thing fairly fly up. She dashed backwards, muscles straining, as she towed the taut vine rope behind her. It hummed and sang under the tension, sending creatures who were clinging to it flying along the clifftop on their stomachs.

  Ballaw pulled the javelin from Buckler’s shoulder. ‘How are you doin’, old scout?’

  The mole winced then smiled. ‘Take more’n a likkle ole spear to slay oi!’

  ‘Ballaw, they’re climbing the other ropes!’

  Brome’s shouts brought Ballaw to the cliff edge. Badrang was standing on the shore, directing his creatures upwards. ‘Get on those ropes, the rest of you start climbing. Come on, we can swarm them. They’re too few to stop us! Move, you dolts, get climbing.’

  Felldoh pulled the last slave over the clifftop. Below him he could see ferrets, rats and weasels scaling the remaining four ropes, whilst the rest were climbing up, spurred on by Badrang.

  Rowanoak joined Felldoh and stood watching. ‘Let them get a bit closer to us then I’ll move.’

  ‘Move what?’ Felldoh looked at the badger quizzically.

  ‘Those four large boulders the ropes are tied to, of course!’

  Ballaw waggled his ears expressively. ‘Should give the rotters somethin’ to think about, wot! Let’s do it now before they get any further. I’ll get all the gang to lend a paw. Right, gather round, chaps, and I’ll explain the drill.’

  Badrang was about to mount one of the ropes himself when he heard the ominous rumble from above. Leaping clear he shouted up, ‘Off! Get off the ropes! Back down, everybeast, quick!’

  Some of the horde were almost at the top. They hesitated, looking at the long drop to the shore. Others clung to the cliff face, not knowing what to do.

  Rowanoak threw her great bulk against the first boulder. It rolled quite freely. Ballaw and Felldoh had a thick branch under the next one. They levered down and the boulder began moving. Brome and some others charged the third boulder with the cart, setting it on the move as the stout little vehicle bumped it forward. Amid the screams and yells of panic as the first boulder came rumbling over the edge, Rowanoak dashed to the fourth and final one. She bulled into it with a deep growl. A ferret’s head appeared over the clifftop as the boulder rolled forward. He gave a wail of dismay and flung himself into space.

  The devastation caused by the four boulders was considerable. They tore huge chunks out of the cliff face as they bounced downwards, and several creatures tangled in the ropes attached to the boulders were given a fast, harsh sleigh ride on their backs down the steep slope. The less fortunate were crushed in the path of the great stones or caught by them as they bounced and thudded towards the shore.

  Badrang had pulled a score of archers back. They knelt on the beach, directing a volley of shafts upwards. Cries from the clifftop told the Tyrant that his strategy was being rewarded.

  As Rowanoak harnessed herself into the cart shafts, an arrow buried itself in the wood by her paw. ‘Time we weren’t here, Felldoh. Can you and Ballaw get the slow and wounded in the cart double quick, please.’

  It was but the work of a moment. The cart trundled off at a fast lick, propelled by Rowanoak and every able-bodied creature.

  ‘Cease fire, hold those bowstrings!’

  Bluehide was the last to hear. He could not stop his arrow twanging off over the clifftop, nor could he avoid the swift kick from Badrang that sent him sprawling.

  ‘What’s the matter, cloth ears? Can’t you tell that there’s nobeast up there any more!’ The Tyrant sighed heavily and sat on one of the boulders. ‘Hisk, Fleabane, count ’em up. How many did we lose?’

  ‘Fifteen in all, Sire. About that many injured too.’

  ‘We got eight of theirs, though, and some more up on top must have been slain by arrows.’

  ‘Eight of theirs,’ Badrang snorted. ‘You mean eight of ours – they were my slaves. The only one of theirs was the mole. I got him, though I never got him good enough to finish him off.’

  The horde members sat about in silence, awaiting their leader’s mood, which could range from indifference to foul bad temper.

  Badrang watched them licking their wounds and retrieving their weapons. Then he summoned Hisk. ‘Take ten, make sure you’ve got a couple of good trackers. I want you to find where they’ve gone. When you do, report back to me at Marshank. Don’t try to fight or even show yourselves, just come straight back to me with the information. Have you got that?’

  Hisk saluted with his spear. ‘Yes, Lord. I will do exactly as you say!’

  ‘Good. When they are least expecting it, we will come in full force and ambush them. They are not soldiers or warriors, merely escaped slaves and some ragtag actors who have been lucky so far.’

  Cap’n Tramun Clogg sat back in Badrang’s chair, enjoying the comfort of the longhouse. He drank damson wine and picked his teeth with the bones of a herring he had eaten. His clogs clacked noisily as he swung his legs on to the tabletop and gave Crosstooth a huge wink.

  ‘Brains, that’s wot y’need to outsail yer enemies, brains!’

  The fox shook his head admiringly. ‘An’ you’ve certainly got ’em, Cap’n. You fooled ole Badrang!’

  Clogg’s huge stomach shook with merriment. ‘I’ll ’elp ye to find the slaves, sez I. You go that way an’ I’ll go this way. Aye, an’ this is the way I goes, straight round the back o’ the fortress, over the wall with me bold crew, an’ captures Marshank for meself. Haharrharharr. Is the gate locked, matey?’

  Crosstooth poured himself a beaker of wine. ‘Locked, barred an’ bolted tight, Cap’n. The crew is on the walls, well fed an’ armed to the fangs!’

  Clogg lost the fishbone in his stomach plaits and forgot it. ‘All waitin’ for pore uncle Badrang to come visitin’ with his tail atwixt ’is legs an’ a flea in ’is ear. Hahaharr!’

  27

  WAKKA, CHIEFTAIN OF the Gawtrybe, was a savage fighter. Swift too, though not as swift as Martin the Warrior. The young mouse saw the squirrel hurtling through the air at him and danced nimbly to one side. Wakka hit the ground on all fours. Whirling fast, he was up and into Martin, setting his claws tight into Martin’s sides, his sharp teeth seeking his opponent’s throat as the bushy tail pushed itself stiflingly over the mouse’s face. Martin bit into the tail hard, throwing himself backwards and shooting all four paws straight up. Wakka gave a shriek of pain an
d sailed over Martin’s head, straight into a bunch of squirrels. Martin was up immediately. Joining both paws tight like a club, he swung out, knowing what the squirrels would do. They heaved their leader bodily back at the young mouse, hoping to crush him.

  Whopp!

  Martin’s tight-joined paws cannoned straight into Wakka’s nose. The squirrel sat down, licking away blood and seeing stars. His head cleared and he rushed Martin. This time he feinted slightly. As Martin leapt aside, Wakka went the same way and caught him. Locking his legs round the mouse’s waist, the squirrel Chieftain clung like a limpet, scratching wildly at Martin’s face. The young mouse winced as the foebeast’s claws scored his cheeks deeply, trying to find his eyes. Martin threw himself forward, hitting the ground with Wakka beneath him. The breath was knocked from the squirrel in one gasp. Punishing him with another hard double pawblow to the nose, Martin was first up. With both paws held tight to his damaged nose, Wakka staggered up. Martin grabbed him, spun him around and leapt on to the squirrel’s shoulders. Clamping his footpaws round Wakka’s neck, Martin grasped both the squirrel’s ears as tight as he could and pulled upwards.

  The squirrel screamed in agony, jumping from side to side and trying to dislodge his tormentor, but Martin hung grimly on, jaw muscles rigid as he pulled the ears tighter and locked his legs harder. Wakka bucked and leaped all around the ring formed by his bunch as Martin rode him, pulling savagely until the tendons stood out on his paws. Half strangled and with his ears near pulled out by the roots, Wakka went down like a stone, dust rising around as both creatures hit the earth. Martin jumped free. Placing his footpaw on Wakka’s head, he ground down hard, forcing the squirrel’s injured nose into the dirt. The Chieftain of the Gawtrybe struggled feebly, sobbing for breath as Martin’s paw stamped down harder.

  The young mouse was breathing hard as he rasped out the question, ‘Have you had enough, squirrel? Because if you haven’t, we can carry on until the death!’

  ‘Gnurff! Gnurff!’

  Rose ran out. Grasping Martin’s paw, she cried piteously, ‘He’s had enough. Don’t kill him, Martin!’

  The sound of Rose’s voice brought Martin back to reality. Veils of red mist fell from his eyes and the Warrior’s desire to kill left him. He allowed her to lead him back to his friends, and Grumm set about bathing his deep-scored face.

  The Gawtrybe had gone unusually silent. They broke the circle, leaving their beaten Chieftain deserted in the dust. The squirrels dispersed into the ferns and lupins, where they immediately began howling with laughter and playing again, some of them sitting on others’ shoulders and pulling their ears as Martin had done to Wakka.

  Pallum shook his head gravely. ‘Listen to that. What a bunch of savages!’

  Rose applied strips of dockleaf to Martin’s wounded face. ‘There, that’s the best I can do for now. Let’s get away from this place. I hate it, and those horrible wild squirrels too!’

  The tall lupins and ferns provided some coolness against the heat of the day as they made their way to the mountain slope. It was Pallum who spotted the cave, high up above them on the dusty dun-coloured mountain face it stood, like a single eye on some great beast.

  Martin shook his head. ‘I doubt if we’ll reach it by nightfall.’

  Rose was all concern for him. ‘Never mind if we don’t, we can camp on the mountainside until morning and reach it tomorrow. There’s no great rush, Martin. Take it slower. You must be tired after battling that big squirrel.’

  Martin touched his stinging cheeks. ‘Don’t worry about me, Rose. I can walk as fast as anybeast.’

  The mousemaid put on a stern face. Stumping ahead, she imitated the Warden’s stick-like gait as she mimicked the grey heron. ‘I say you will walk slower. I am the law!’

  They fell about laughing and sat in the ferns while Grumm unpacked some of his invention cakes and a drink of water for each of them. Martin accidentally dozed off as Pallum was singing a little ditty.

  ‘Oh, the hedgehog is a fine old beast,

  All covered o’er with needles,

  Not smooth, oh no, like some I know,

  Eels an’ fish an’ beetles.

  Some creatures calls us hedgepigs,

  An’ others says hedgedogs,

  But I do know that frogs is frogs,

  An’ hedgehogs is hedge hogs!’

  Rose held a paw to her lips. ‘Hush now, let him sleep awhile. He’ll feel better for it.’

  It was getting towards late afternoon when Martin was wakened by the sound of Gawtrybe squirrels hooting and hallooing close by. He rubbed his eyes and noted the position of the sun in the sky.

  ‘Oh no, have I been dozing the day away? We’ll never make it to the cave tonight now!’

  Rose gave him water to drink and redressed his face wounds. ‘Come on then, grumpy. Perhaps you’ll be happier on the move.’

  Shadows were lengthening as they emerged from the ferns on to the scree and rocks of the actual mountain face. Again they found their way barred by large numbers of the Gawtrybe.

  Pallum’s bristles rose aggressively. ‘Not you lot again. What d’you want now?’

  In the absence of their deposed Chieftain, they seemed to have several leaders.

  ‘Wanna play!’ one squirrel called out.

  Rose eyed them frostily. ‘Well, we’re not stopping you. Play as much as you like!’

  ‘Heehee!’ another squirrel sniggered. ‘No, we want you t’ play!’

  Martin drew his sword and took a pace towards them. ‘And supposing we don’t want to play?’

  ‘Heeheehee! Then the Gawtrybe kill you!’

  It was then that Martin noticed many of the squirrels were holding axes made from a piece of shale tied in the notch of a heavy stick. He held up a paw. ‘Wait while I ask my friends.’

  The four travellers went into a huddle as Martin explained. ‘We’d last as long as a butterfly in a snowstorm trying to fight our way past that mob. I think we’re going to have to play whatever stupid game they’ve thought up.’

  He could see that Rose was afraid, but she nodded. ‘Whatever you say, Martin. We’re with you.’

  ‘Burr aye, iffen ’tis ’ee only way outen yurr, then so be et.’

  ‘You lead on, Martin. We trust you.’

  Martin smiled and patted Pallum carefully. Turning to face the waiting Gawtrybe, he addressed them.

  ‘All right, we’ll play your game. What do we have to do?’

  ‘Heehee, you run and we chase you.’

  ‘That sounds like fun. Which way do we run?’

  ‘Up the mountain, heehee!’

  ‘Good, that was the way we were travelling, up the mountain. What happens next?’

  ‘When we catch you. . . . Heehee . . . We throw you off!’

  Hatred for the Gawtrybe coursed through Martin’s veins. He gripped his sword tighter but continued to smile as he spoke. ‘I don’t think we’re going to like this game. My friends and I could be killed.’

  Mass laughter greeted Martin’s statement, many voices calling out from the bunch in imitation of him.

  ‘We could be killed. Heehee!’

  ‘What a nasty game. Heehee!’

  Martin waited until the noise had subsided.

  ‘Fair enough, we’ll play,’ he continued in a reasonable voice. ‘But the Gawtrybe are squirrels, very strong, fleet of paw, very very fast!’

  Cheers arose from the squirrels. They obviously enjoyed flattery.

  Martin grinned cheerily, waving his paws for silence. ‘We are slow and weary. The game would not be much fun if you did not give us a start. Then it would be a really good game!’

  Some of the squirrels started to chant. ‘Really good game, really good game, really good game!’

  Martin pointed to a high ledge protruding some distance above them. ‘Let us climb to that ledge before you start chasing us. When we reach the ledge, I will shout Gawtrybe. That is your signal.’

  The squirrels changed their chant. ‘Gawtrybe! Gawtry
be! Gawtrybe!’

  ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ Martin yelled aloud.

  They took up his cry. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’

  Rose was trembling slightly as the horde of wild squirrels leaped and danced in front of them, waving their stone axes and chanting fanatically. Grumm gazed up at the high ledge through the digging paws that were covering his eyes.

  ‘Hoo urr, oi bain’t a beast oo loiks ’igh places, hurr no, zurr.’

  Holding his sword at the ready, Martin took Rose’s paw. ‘Pallum, Grumm, stay dose and tread carefully. Come on. If we can make it up to that cave, I think we’ll have a good chance of holding them off.’

  Martin led the way. It was a tense situation. Howling squirrels waved axes in their faces, grinning unpleasantly. Martin bared his teeth and growled if any tried to paw them or come too close. Step by step the four friends made their way through the mad throng, Martin brandishing his sword, Grumm wagging his ladle warningly, Pallum extending his spikes and Rose swinging a foodpack in a businesslike manner. It seemed like hours, though it was only moments before they were clear.

  Walking with deliberate slowness Martin spoke quietly to Pallum, who was bringing up the rear. ‘Pallum, take a slow glance behind and see if they’ve made any move to follow us yet. Do it casually.’

  As Pallum turned his head, the Gawtrybe stopped chanting.

  ‘They’re standing stock still, the whole crowd of them, not making a move or a sound, just watching us!’ Pallum’s voice carried in it the tinge of fear.

  Rose could feel countless pairs of wild eyes focused on them. The fur on her nape rose stiffly. ‘I’ve a feeling I’m not going to like this game, Martin.’

  The young mouse held her paw tighter. ‘Blank it from your mind, Rose. Think of Noonvale.’

  Reaching the first ledges, they helped one another up, ready to run should the Gawtrybe show any sign of pursuit. Sandy rock crumbled beneath their paws and slivering pieces of shale slid away down the mountainside. Two more small ledges to go. Martin dug his sword into a crack to aid his progress, leaning over the ledge and helping Rose to haul Grumm up. Pallum pushed the mole from behind.