Salamandastron (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  Urthstripe sat looking at his untouched breakfast. Mara had not even acknowledged him this morning. One part of him longed to be friends with her, but the other half detested what he was seeing: a fine young badger maid, gossiping with a ferret and a weasel as if they were lifelong friends. The badger Lord caught the weasel stealing a glance at him. The creature had light blue eyes, shining as honest as a newborn infant. Some faraway faint memory was struggling to surface within Urthstripe’s brain, but then it was wiped away as Oxeye nudged him and nodded down the table.

  ‘That chap could charm the bally birds out of the trees with his baby-blue peepers. Still, I’d hate ter be the jolly old bird that fell into his claws. What d’you say, M’lud?’

  A deep growl issued from Urthstripe’s cavernous chest. ‘I once knew a searat who could sing like a lark, beautiful ballads. He used to sing to his victims as he cut them up. Vermin are vermin, no matter what – I’ve learned that much. Sapwood, I cannot stand the sight of those two at my table any longer. Give them provisions and get them clear of my mountain. I’ll feel easier when they’ve gone!’

  The hare Sergeant stood up and threw a salute. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll hescort ’em ter the door pers’nally.’

  The forty odd hares who lived at Salamandastron watched in silence as Sapwood made his way down the table. He nodded to Mara and Pikkle before turning to Klitch and Goffa. ‘Hare you finished with your vittles, you two?’

  Klitch sniggered as he did an impression of the Sergeant’s voice. ‘Yes, we have, hactually!’

  The hare kept his face impassive and his voice level. ‘Right ho, then if you’d hallow me to show you out.’

  ‘Show them out?’ Mara placed a paw on Sapwood’s arm. ‘But these are my friends, Sergeant!’

  Sapwood stood stiffly to attention, avoiding her eyes. ‘Lord Urthstripe says they must leave. Don’t worry, missie, they’ll be given ’aversack rations and sent on their way unharmed. Come on, folier me, you two. Lively now!’

  Goffa and Klitch rose, the latter smiling ruefully at Mara. ‘We’ll be fine, don’t bother your head about us. I wish you luck with Urthstripe. Goodbye, Mara. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.’

  As Sapwood led them the length of the dining hall Mara could stand the tension no longer. The badger maid knew that Urthstripe loved and cared for her, as she did for him, but he was becoming like a dictator to her, ruling her life, saying how she should behave and conduct herself. Now in his usual heavy-pawed way he had insulted her new-found friends. It was too much! Without thinking, Mara suddenly found herself shouting angrily over the hushed assembly at Urthstripe:

  ‘Go on, send my friends away. It’s your mountain. You can do as you like and everybeast has to obey!’

  Every hare present jumped in their seats as the badger Lord’s paws crashed forcefully on the tabletop.

  ‘Mara, go to your room!’

  But Mara was already up and hurrying from the hall, her mind finally made up as to what she would do. ‘I won’t go to that room any more. I’m leaving this mountain to go with my friends, and you can’t stop me!’

  Windpaw leaped up to intercept Mara, but Urthstripe shook his head. ‘Let her go!’

  Pikkle dashed after his companion. ‘Mara, I say, wait, I’m comin’ with you!’

  When they had gone, Sapwood returned to his chair. The tough hare gazed imploringly at Urthstripe, whose face was set in a stony stare at Mara’s empty seat. ‘She’s gone, sir – ’er an’ Pikkle. Should I bring ’em back?’

  Urthstripe looked away, swiftly brushing a tear from his eye with a heavy paw. ‘No, I must let her go. She is not happy here any more.’

  Big Oxeye stood up. The huge hare saluted his Lord. ‘Beggin’ yer leave, sah! With or without permission from you, me an’ old Sappers here are goin’ ter follow ’em. Watch that they don’t get themselves in some bally scrape or other, keep an eye on ’em. Wot?’

  Urthstripe grasped both their paws. ‘Thank you, my friends!’

  Snatching a light throwing lance apiece from a weapon rack, Sapwood and Oxeye set off an an easy lope on the track of Mara and Pikkle. Urthstripe went to his forge. All that day the mountain interior resounded with the pounding and banging of his forge hammers, and chunks of red hot metal showered sparks as he battered them as flat as dead leaves.

  Hiding among the dunes to the south of Salamandastron, Klitch and Goffa watched Mara and Pikkle getting nearer as they followed the trail.

  Klitch nudged his companion. ‘They’ll be here any moment, so listen. Don’t you say a word – leave the talking to me. My plan has worked well so far.’

  Goffa patted the two haversacks of food that lay nearby. ‘Your father won’t think so. Two bags o’ food isn’t really badger’s treasure, is it?’

  He flinched slightly as Klitch elbowed him sharply in the ribs. ‘If brains were acorns you’d be a dead oak!’ There was a sneer in the weasel’s voice. ‘We’ve been inside the mountain, we’ve seen for ourselves, there’s about forty fighting hares and Urthstripe, and they’re not there for nothing. I’ll bet my tail they’re guarding a treasure. Now I’ve given Ferahgo an extra move in the game – I’m providing him with a hostage, Lord Urthstripe’s own precious little Mara. We could have done without that hare Pikkle, but if she wants to bring him along, the more the merrier!’

  The light of understanding dawned in Goffa’s eyes. ‘You’re right! By the claw, you’re a clever one, Klitch!’

  Without taking his eyes from the two approaching creatures, the young weasel muttered fiercely, ‘Right, Goffa, I am clever. I’m smarter than Farran, Dethbrush, Migroo or any of that deadheaded bunch. That’s why Ferahgo allows me to spy for him. But what my father doesn’t realize is that he’s getting old and I’m still young. I’ll show him who’s the more cunning one day soon. Stow it now, here they are!’

  As Mara and Pikkle breasted the hill, Klitch feigned surprise. He turned to them, his open blue eyes shining happily. ‘Mara, Pikkle! What are you two doing here?’

  Pikkle let his ears flop forward comically. ‘What ho, you chaps. Two more recruits for your rovin’ band!’

  Mara nodded agreement, her face alight with the joy of freedom. ‘I’ve done it, left Salamandastron for good! As you can see,’ Pikkle came with me. He’s my only friend.’

  Klitch grasped her paw warmly. ‘Well, you’ve got two more good pals now – me and Goffa. We’ll stick by you like true companions. Isn’t that right, Goffa?’

  The ferret leaned on his spear, echoing the words. ‘True companions!’

  Mara could still see Salamandastron rising tall and grim in the distance. She looked away, banishing thoughts of it from her mind. Taking in her immediate surroundings, the badger maid quivered with delight. They were in a small hollow amid the dunes, basking in the heat of a fresh summer day. Beyond the grass-tufted hilltops she could see a distant mountain range rearing up ahead of them. It was framed majestically against a cloudless sky of vivid blue. Her heart sang within at the prospect of boundless freedom.

  ‘Oh, isn’t it exciting, Klitch! From now on Pikkle and I are going to be just like you two, travelling where we want, sleeping beneath the stars, eating when we feel like, and no one to boss or push us around. We’re free!’

  Goffa pulled a face and grunted. ‘Where’s yer food?’

  Pikkle spread his paws, chuckling. ‘Ask Mara the gallopin’ badger there. She was in such a bally rush that she dashed off without a jolly crumb. Had to follow her, of course, so I didn’t wait to stock up with tucker. But here we are, hale an’ hungry!’

  ‘You never brought anything?’ Klitch looked concerned.

  Mara waggled her paws in a carefree manner. ‘No, not a single scone. Still, I suppose we’ll find something.’

  Goffa hefted his spear meaningly. ‘You mean you didn’t even bring a weapon between you?’

  ‘No weapons, eh!’ Klitch’s look of concern deepened.

  Pikkle sat and drew doodles in the sand. ‘Who needs mouldy ol’ w
eapons? I mean, I can’t see enemies to fight with round here. Wot, wot?’

  The blue-eyed young weasel sat down beside him. ‘I wouldn’t take it so lightly if I were you, Pikkle. Alone out in this country and unarmed, you never know what might happen. Mara, haven’t you got anything that could be used as a bribe, something to buy your way with, perhaps a piece of badger treasure?’

  ‘Badger treasure, what d’you mean, Klitch?’ Mara was puzzled by the odd question.

  The weasel shrugged as if it were not really important. ‘Oh, you know, gold or silver trinkets, medallions maybe, or jewels and such. I thought all badgers had some sort of treasure stowed away.’

  Mara scratched her stripes thoughtfully. ‘Hmm, I can’t recall ever seeing treasure at Salamandastron. Can you, Pikkle?’

  ‘Me? No, not a bloomin’ bauble, old gel!’

  Klitch smiled shrewdly. ‘I’ll bet old Urthstripe has loads of it hidden away somewhere, but he wouldn’t tell you about it, Mara. Oh no, he’d be more at home ordering and shoving you about like a slave. I reckon that he thinks any treasure stowed away in the mountain is his and none of your business, because you’re too young to know about such things. But forgive me, you must be hungry. We’ll share our supplies with you. Let’s have an early lunch – your first one as a free creature, Mara, and you, Pikkle.’

  They gratefully accepted the wheatcakes, cheese and apples from the packs that had been given to the weasel and the ferret.

  Pikkle fell upon the food with his usual good appetite. ‘That’s what friends are for, wot! Jolly good chaps, these two. What d’you say, Mara m’ gel?’

  Mara lowered her voice as she munched an apple. ‘You’re right, Pikkle. D’you know, I don’t feel as much of a young one as I used to be. Perhaps it’s because Klitch treats us as equals and not underlings. Some of the things he said have made me think. All that secrecy about not allowing other creatures inside the mountain – maybe Urthstripe does have something to hide. I’ll bet he does have a hidden treasure. Not that I’m bothered about it; he can keep his mouldy old treasure for all I care.’

  They missed the knowing wink that passed from Klitch to Goffa.

  The weasel tossed the haversack across to Mara. ‘Here, have some cheese. Help yourself, friend!’

  7

  The muted boom of the great Joseph Bell signalled the twilight hour over Redwall Abbey. Blackbirds, song-thrushes and the last larks descending warbled their final melodies to the closing day. Abbess Vale was about to knock on the gatehouse door when Faith Spinney swung it silently open.

  The hedgehog lady placed a paw to her mouth. ‘Hush, little Dumble is sleeping here tonight. I’ve just put him down in the spare bed. Let’s take a stroll round the orchard. We can talk in peace there.’

  Latching the door carefully, Faith sighed in relief. ‘My spikes! I don’t know which is the worser, grown hedgehogs or baby dormice. My old Tudd an’ Dumble been a-playin’ together – you should’ve seen ’em both larkin’ an’ sportin’ about. They’re a right couple o’ pawfuls an’ no mistake! Played themselves to a stan’still they did. My Tudd fell fast asleep in the rockin’ chair an’ Dumble curled up on the floor. They’s both sleepin’ now, bless ’em!’

  The grass beneath them was still warm from the summer sun as they strolled paw in paw towards the pond. The Abbess sniffed the air, peering at the sky.

  ‘The weather should be fine tomorrow for our Nameday, Faith. How are the preparations going?’

  ‘Everythin’ is done to a turn, Vale. Don’t you fret yourself. My Tudd’s been helpin’ Burrley mole bring up the finest of drinks from the cellars – strawberry cordial, new cider, dandelion an’ burdock, damson wine an’ the finest barrel of October ale tasted in ten seasons. Tudd ’n’ Burrley should know, they been a-tastin’ it enough today. Now I don’t mind sayin’, young Samkim an’ Arula have been a regular pair o’ goodbeasts, helpin’ Friar Bellows out wi’ the bakin’ an’ cookin’ like they were born in a kitchen.’

  The Abbess raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s nice to hear a creature with a good word to say for those two. I take it you’ve forgiven them for the bow and arrow incident?’

  ‘Bless their ’earts, yes,’ Faith chuckled. ‘Young uns are only young once, more’s the pity. They’re both nice liddle wags, so they are. They don’t mean a body any real harm.’

  Abbess Vale watched the trout flap its tail on the surface, setting up ripples over the still pondwater. ‘What’s your opinion of those two stoats? Can we trust them to behave properly?’

  ‘Oh, you mean Dingeye an’ Thura. They’m just a silly ol’ pair o’ stoats. I wouldn’t worry about ’em, Vale.’

  The Abbess steered her friend around the pond edge. ‘I hope you’re right, Faith.’

  A lantern was lit in the first-floor dormitory. Brother Hollyberry, Sister Nasturtium and Thruggann the otter sat together on the side of a bed. Grouped around them on the floor the young ones sat, wrapped in their blankets, eating thick slices of new Abbeybread spread with cornflower butter and elderberry jam and sipping from beakers of hot dandelion cordial. Samkim and Arula had brought the two stoats with them.

  ‘Gwaw! This jam’s luvverly,’ Thura commented. ‘I could eat ten o’ these, easily!’

  Arula held up a paw. ‘Thurr be a-storytellen, ’ushed naow.’

  Thura took a sip of hot cordial and scorched his tongue. ‘Yowch! That’s ’ot, mucker. Wot’s a-story-tellen?’

  Dingeye flicked him on the end of his nose. ‘Shut up, bottlebrain. It’s a story. I like stories.’

  Brother Hollyberry leaned forward, scanning the eager young faces as he drew out his voice in a deep whisper, ‘Whooooo waaaants a storeeeeeeee?’

  The young ones giggled and hugged each other excitedly. They elongated their voices as they chanted back, ‘Weeee waaaant a storeeeeee pleeeeeeease!’

  The old Infirmary keeper took a sip of his drink and started.

  ‘Old travellers tell, at the midnight bell,

  When the nightdark covers all,

  Mid the falling snow, when the cold winds blow,

  Of the ghost that walks Redwall . . .’

  A baby mole emitted a gruff squeak and hid trembling beneath his blanket. ‘Burrhoo, oi be gurtly afeared o’ goasters!’

  A small fat otter joined him. ‘I’m afeared too. ‘Old on ter me, matey. They won’t get us’ns!’

  When silence had been restored, Hollyberry continued:

  ‘Yes, the ghost that haunts the stairways goes slowly on his beat,

  Moaning low in the moonlight’s glow.

  “Give me young ones to eat!”

  Several young mice squealed and dived beneath the bed, and Thura’s beaker rattled nervously against his teeth as he tried to drink some cordial. ‘I’m g-g-g-glad I ain’t a young un, mucker!’

  Dingeye whacked him soundly on the head. ‘Belt up an’ lissen frogsbum!’

  The storyteller continued his grisly tale.

  ‘Then one night as the lightning was flashing

  And the thunder was crashing out, boom!

  The beastly phantom came a-haunting

  Into this very room.

  When up stood a young one, pale as the ghost,

  And to the spirit said,

  “How dare you moan round here at night And wake me from my bed!”

  The ghost sprang at him with a cry:

  “Whoohoo I’ll eat you whole!”

  The pale mouse laughed as he replied,

  “You’ll need a great big bowl!

  For I am Martin the Warrior,

  The spirit of Redwall,

  Whilst I protect this Abbey,

  You’ll eat nobeast at all!”’

  The mice beneath the bed raised a cheer at the name of their hero. ‘Hooray! Good old Martin. What did he do, Brother?’

  Hollyberry stood, drawing a long ladle from his habit sleeve.

  ‘Then Martin drew his trusty sword

  And chopped that ghost apart.

 
He sliced his nose, he carved his ears,

  He whacked its legs and head,

  He chopped its claws, he hacked its jaws,

  Then to the ghost he said:

  “Be sure to brush up all your bits,

  Goodnight, I’m off to bed!”’

  Applause and relieved laughter greeted the fitting end of the ghost of Redwall. Creatures were settling down to await the next story when Thrugann mischievously tossed a crust of jam-smeared bread into Dingeye’s lap and whooped, ‘Oo dear, look out, it’s the ghost’s tail. Oohoo!’

  The panic-stricken stoat bowled Thura and Arula tip over tail as he leapt up, startled. It was some time before the laughter subsided and order was restored. Dingeye brushed the floor with his paws, laughing nervously as he searched.

  ‘Haha, that weren’t no ghost’s tail at all, haha, it was a trick.’

  Thura had scoffed the crust. He clipped Dingeye’s ears smartly. ‘Of course it was the ghost’s tail, noddle’ead. It’s vanished, ain’t it? On’y a real ghost tail could vanish!’

  Dingeye stared at the empty floor and shuddered. ‘Never shoulda come t’ this Redhall place, mucker!’

  Suddenly Sister Nasturtium’s clear voice cut across them. She was staring at the wall and reciting:

  ‘When night meets day, stand clear away,

  Beware the Abbey then.

  Stay close beside the rampart wall,

  Await the moment when

  The flame of storm will strike my blade

  To aid the badger Lord,

  And bring back to Redwall one day

  A guardian and a sword.’

  In the hush that followed, Brother Hollyberry shook the sleeve of Nasturtium, who was sitting staring, as if in a trance. ‘Sister, what is it? Are you all right?’

  She blinked and looked about her. ‘Oh dear, have I done it again? Goodness only knows what I’ve been saying. Was it something dreadful?’