Eulalia!

by Brian Jacques

  The golden fox leaned back against the ditchside. “So ye say, but I ain’t never fought no stripe’ound.”

  Magger looked questioningly at his captain. “De stripe’ound, ’ow d’yer know ’e’s in dere?”

  Vizka explained. “Dat ’edgepig was up on der wall, I ’eard ’is voice, dat’s ’ow I knows our Rock’ead’s in de Abbey, dey escaped t’gether didn’t they?”

  Bilger, who was half-asleep, opened one eye. “Does dat mean ya ain’t gonna try an’ take Redwall, Cap’n?”

  Vizka picked up his mace and chain, his eyes and his long fangs gleaming in the darkness. “I nearly slayed dat stripe’ound last time I ’it ’im wid this. I’ll finish der job next time, you see. Afore dis season’s out I’ll be cap’n o’ Redwall, plannin’ an’ brains, dat’s all it takes!”

  On the walltops, Granspike Niblo was clearing away the supper bowls. She smiled fondly at Orkwil. “I’m glad to see ye back ’ome an’ behavin’ yoreself, Orkwil. You did a good job here t’night, defendin’ our Abbey an’ sendin’ those vermin packin’.”

  The young hedgehog passed her his empty bowl, shaking his head. “We knocked one ole vole senseless, Gran, that’s all. The vermin are still out there, I think Redwall has some hard days ahead. By the way, how’s my friend Gorath comin’ along, is he better yet?”

  The old Beekeeper shook her head. “He’s gettin’ better, but that big feller isn’t fit yet, not by a long straw. Pore beast’s been through a dreadful time, if’n ye ask me.”

  Foremole Burff chuckled. “Aye, marm, but you’m wait’ll ee badgerbeast bee’s well agin. Hurrhurr, then ee’ll see summ sparks a-flyin’, boi okey ee will!”

  16

  Maudie felt she was in the middle of a nightmare in broad daylight. As the logboats soared out over the waterfall they were enveloped in a milky fog of spray, tinged through by a broad spectrum of rainbow colours. The haremaid had released her hold of the logboat, as had the Guosim crews. All about them the air was filled with the roar of cascading waters. It was the strangest of sensations, plunging downward amid all the noise and colour, seeing others falling alongside her, some still holding their paddles. Maudie even had time to think about what had happened to the coracle, and its cargo of shrewbabes. Would the logboats land on top of them? Those poor babies, it didn’t bear contemplating….

  Splaaaash! Kabooooom!

  The Guosim crews hit the water. Maudie was immersed in a world of swirling blue, green and white, with the dull boom of the waterfall echoing in her skull. She was whirling about, like a leaf in a hurricane, water filling her mouth, nostrils and vision. Her body was swept sideways, as she felt herself thrust upward, paws flailing in all directions, toward the surface.

  “Whoa, matey, gotcha, up ye come now, bucko!” A huge, fat otter had her by both ears, in a viselike grip.

  The pain of being hauled out by her ears was momentary, Maudie felt herself flung up onto a mossy bank, as though she were a bundle of washing. In swift succession, several Guosim were slung onto the bank beside her. Luglug was one of them, he sprawled alongside the haremaid, both coughing and spitting out water and weed fronds. The big otter banged his rudder down on their backs, helping them to expel the debris from their lungs. He pointed to Maudie, laughing as he bellowed out to an equally big female otter, “Hohoho! Lookit this ’un, Kachooch, did ye ever see a shrew with a set o’ lugs like that?”

  Maudie managed to gasp indignantly, “I say, d’you mind, I’m a blinkin’ hare, not a shrew!”

  The big female, Kachooch, helped Maudie upright, winking cheerfully at her. “Take no heed o’ Barbowla, me deary, he’s only joshin’.”

  Luglug gave the big male’s rudder a hearty tug. “Barbowla Boulderdog, you ole gullywhumper, wot are you doin’ in these waters? I thought you was livin’ on the East River Moss.”

  Barbowla hauled another shrew from the water and casually tossed him ashore. “Log a Log Luglug, ye whiskery ole knot’ead, don’t ye know any better’n tryin’ to paddle logboats o’er the ripples? Good job me’n the family was here t’pull yore acorns out o’ the soup.”

  Luglug retrieved his paddle and inspected it for damage. “Didn’t have much choice, mate, we was on the run from Kurdly an’ his Brownrats. Did ye manage to rescue our liddle ’uns, they was swept away ahead of us.”

  Kachooch beckoned along the bank with her rudder. “Bless their liddle spikey ’eads, they’re in the holt, playin’ with me’n Barbowla’s grandbabes. Shame on ye, lettin’ ’em get away from ye like that!”

  Maudie intervened. “It wasn’t our fault, marm, we were fightin’ off the rats, y’see.”

  Kachooch pursed her lips angrily. “There’s far too many o’ those brown, ratty murderers for most honest beasts to fight off. They does as they pleases around Mossflower these seasons!”

  Barbowla towed an upturned logboat further down the bank, to where a number of his sturdy sons and daughters turned it upright with a joint heave. “That Gruntan Kurdly’s like all bullies, he’ll meet his match one fine day, an’ I hopes I’m around t’see it. Come to the holt an’ take a bite with us, yore Guosim’s all safe’n’sound. There should be plenty o’ plugs’n’dips to go round.”

  Luglug smacked his lips noisily. “Plugs’n’dips, eh, lead on, me barrel-bellied bucko!”

  Maudie accompanied Kachooch, enquiring, “Beggin’ y’pardon, marm, but what in the flippin’ name o’ seasons is plugs’n’dips?”

  The big otterwife chuckled. “You’ll soon find out, missy.”

  The otters’ holt was on an island further downstream, they took the logboats and paddled to it. Barbowla and his extended family had built the holt like a small fortress, from log and stone chinked with moss and rivermud. Inside it was a scene of comfortable chaos, homely and welcoming. Barbowla and Kachooch had a large number of sons and daughters, all of whom had partners and broods of small otters. Together with the Guosim, and their babes, there was a considerable number of creatures to feed.

  Maudie found herself ensconced in a corner, with Kachooch and her eldest daughter, Belford. The haremaid was given a wooden skewer and a clay bowl, whilst Belford went to the main cooking fire in the centre of the holt. Maudie went also, just to see what was going on. There was a massive cauldron into which the cooks were adding a mixture of cheese, cornmeal and finely chopped herbs. The haremaid’s curiosity as a cook overcame her. She asked Belford, “I say, it all smells jolly appetisin’, what exactly are they doin’?”

  The ottermaid took up a pan. “That’s the dips, they say the herbs are a secret recipe. I’ll get our dips, you go over there an’ get the plugs.”

  Maudie went to the other side of the fire, where more cooks had a couple of old iron shields, which they were using as roasting pans. She watched them pounding hazelnuts and chestnuts with chopped mushrooms. Pouring honey over the mixture, the cooks made it into lots of tiny cakes, roasting them on the shields. They sizzled as they rolled about, until they were hot and a deep brown colour.

  One of the cooks filled a trench-shaped platter, passing it to Maudie. “Yore plugs, mate. Go easy, they’re hot. You’ll enjoy ’em, if’n you haven’t tasted ’em afore!”

  The haremaid curtsied politely. “Thank you, I’m sure I jolly well will, wot!”

  Back with Kachooch and her daughter, Maudie skewered one of the plugs, dipping it into her bowl, which had been filled with the steaming mixture from the pan. She had to nibble at it delicately, because it was all very hot. However, Maudie voted plugs’n’dips as among the tastiest food she had ever eaten.

  “Absobloominlootly scrumptious! Why’ve I never had this before? Top marks, you chaps, eleven out of ten I’d say!”

  One of the cooks, a young fellow with a fine voice, began singing an old otter ballad, in praise of the delicacy.

  “When I was a babe my ma would say,

  Guess what I made for dinner today,

  blow on your paws an’ lick yore lips,

  ’cos I’ve cooked up some plugs
’n’dips!

  “Oh plugs’n’dips you can’t go wrong,

  you’ll grow up so big’n’strong,

  ain’t no bones or stones or pips,

  just good ole fashioned plugs’n’dips!”

  Barbowla joined Maudie and the two otters, helping himself to plugs’n’dips. The haremaid marvelled at how he could swallow them down hot at a single go. The otter chieftain patted his stomach and winked at her. “I tell ye, Miz Maudie, you got to learn to git yore share an’ scoff it quick, when you got a family the size o’ mine. Moreso when the likes o’ Luglug an’ his famine-faced gang joins ye for dinner. Huh, lookin’ at the size o’ them shrews I allus asks meself, where do they put it all?”

  Maudie smiled at the big, friendly otter. “Serves you jolly well right givin’ the Guosim such wonderful vittles, old chap. I hope Log a Log Luglug thanked you properly for rescuing his shrews, wot?”

  Kachooch refilled Maudie’s bowl. “Ah, away with ye, missy, we don’t need lots o’ fancy compliments for doin’ wot any decent beast would. Dearie me, though, I’m still chucklin’ at that coracle full o’ Guosim babbies!”

  Selecting a fat plug, Maudie skewered it. “I expect it was quite a task, finding them all in that rough water, how did you do it, marm?”

  Kachooch shook with stifled laughter. “We didn’t have t’do a thing, they didn’t even get their liddle paws wet. The coracle came down, whirlin’ like a sycamore seed, with the babes gigglin’ an’ chortlin’ like it was all a big game. Well, there must’ve been about six or seven of us in the water at the time, we never even saw it comin’, did we, Bel?”

  Her daughter, Belford, grinned ruefully. “Certainly didn’t, Ma, it landed right on our backs, an’ skidded across us, straight onto the bank!”

  Barbowla showed Maudie the top of his head. “Aye, an’ I’ve got a patch o’ fur missin’, ’cos I was the one it landed on first!” Barbowla’s face was such a picture of injured dignity that Maudie had to struggle to look sympathetic.

  “Must’ve been pretty painful for you, sah. Sorry about that, but we were on the run from the enemy an’ all that, y’know. Pity you were injured, eh wot!”

  Barbowla nodded. “Thankee, miz, but it ain’t nought to weep over. I’m more worried about Kurdly an’ his rat horde. If they’re trailin’ you an’ the shrews, then ’tis for sure they’ll bump into us. We wouldn’t stand a chance agin the numbers Kurdly commands.”

  Maudie realised the position their arrival had put the otters in. She grasped Barbowla’s paw firmly. “Indeed, sah, that’s why I suggest you come to Redwall with us, that’ll put your family out of harm’s way, wot!”

  Kachooch practically wriggled with delight. “Ooh, Redwall Abbey! I allus wanted to visit there, ain’t that where yore cousin Rorc is, Skipper?”

  Barbowla shook the haremaid’s paw. “Good idea, miz, I’d like to visit the Abbey, ain’t never been there afore.” He glanced warningly at his wife and daughter. “Not a word o’ this to the others, y’hear. The length o’ time they takes gettin’ ready for a journey, Kurdly’d be here attackin’ afore they’re half-packed.”

  Belford contained her excitement. “Yore right, Pa, we’ll just say the family’s joinin’ the Guosim to guide ’em along the stream apiece. Maudie, d’you think Luglug would object to takin’ our babes along in his logboats? The rest of us are all strong swimmers, we don’t need to ride in boats.”

  Maudie reassured the otters. “Rather, I’m sure our Log a Log would welcome your plan. Come on, Barbowla, let’s have a quiet word with him.”

  Luglug immediately agreed with the plan, taking them to one side, and lowering his voice. “I’ll go along with anythin’ you say, mates, but we’d best do it right now. Two o’ my rearguard scouts have spotted the rats, they’re startin’ to climb down the rocks either side o’ the falls. Just leave things as they are an’ git yore liddle ’uns into the logboats, matey. The way I figgers, it’ll be a close-run thing to shake off those Brownrats an’ make it to Redwall Abbey!”

  Barbowla’s eyes narrowed craftily. “I knows the waterways twixt here an’ Redwall better’n most, beggin’ yore pardon, Luglug. There’s lots o’ streamlets an back cuts, dead ends an’ marshes. Let me lead the way, mate?”

  Luglug nodded briefly, explaining to Maudie, “He’s right, there’s quite a few places an otter can go, where a logboat crew might not see a passage.”

  The haremaid threw a smart salute to Luglug and Barbowla. “Right y’are, chaps, quick’s the word an’ sharp’s the action, wot, forward the blinkin’ buffs I say!”

  A party of twelve litter bearers lowered Gruntan Kurdly’s carrying stretcher gingerly onto the rocks at the head of the waterfall. The huge Brownrat chieftain moaned and winced as his body made contact with the damp stones. Stringle, the rat officer, approached Gruntan, he had to shout, to make himself heard above the roar of the waterfall.

  “Noggo an’ Biklo just reported that they’ve seen the sh’ews, an’ some riverdog otters, they’re sailin’ off, below there, in the logboats!”

  Irately, Gruntan cupped a paw about his ear, bellowing, “Wot’s that, speak up!”

  Stringle shouted louder. “Riverdogs an’ Guosims, Boss, sailin’ off in logboats….”

  Gruntan swung a heavy walking stick across Stringle’s shins, causing him to break into a hopping dance of pain. “Wot’n the name o’ bursted beetles are ye talkin’ about? Silverlogs wailin’ on a blow there wid frogstoats? Away, ye blitherin’ buffoon, an’ see wot those sh’ews are up to! Ahoy, somebeast move this stretcher, afore I’m soaked an’ drownded!”

  Amid more howls and groans from Kurdly, the bearers moved the litter onto drier ground. Bandaged and poulticed with evil-smelling unguents, Gruntan winced as his healer, Laggle, approached. The old, wrinkled, female rat was carrying what looked like a pair of rusty pincers. She mumbled as she turned her patient roughly, facedown, removing swathes of grimy dressing.

  “Gorra get those gorse spikes out afore they fester, still plenty left in yore tailparts, ’old still now!”

  Gruntan squealed like a stuck pig as Laggle went to work with furious energy. “Yow! Wow! Yeeeeek! Ye dodderin’ ole murderer, I’ll ’ave ye gutted an’ roasted for this. Ayaaargh!”

  Smiling with satisfaction, the healer showed him a hefty gorse spike. “I just dug this ’un out o’ yer be’ind, nice, ain’t it? There’s a few more in there, but they’re stuck deeper’n this, bigger ones, they are. Once they’re out I’ll clean the wounds up wid rock salt an’ boilin’ water. Oh, stop whingein’ like a baby will ye!” Chuckling maliciously she went to work again. “Mebbe ye won’t feel like eatin’, I’ll take care o’ those waterfowl eggs they’re boilin’ for ye.”

  The six logboats, plus the coracle, shot off downstream. Barbowla and all the able-bodied members of his family swam in formation around the flotilla. The shrew and otterbabes were virtually uncontrollable, they packed the next to last logboat, which became a scene of chaos. Dancing, singing, quarreling and squealing, they never let up for a moment. Some even leapt overboard, but were soon rescued by the otters.

  It was a shrewmum named Frenna who solved the problem. She poured a few flagons of dandelion and burdock cordial into a cauldron; into this she mixed the contents of a few small vials. Placing the cauldron in the midst of the infants, Frenna strictly forbade any of them to drink it, saying it was only for grown-up creatures. She sat at the stern of the logboat, with her back to the little ones. Immediately, like all babes who have been told not to do a thing, they fell upon the mixture and drank it. Fenna signalled to the shrew paddlers. Gently they began to hum and sing a leisurely song.

  “Hear the stream flow softly, slowly,

  see the waters calm and deep,

  floating on and on forever,

  slipping, dipping into sleep

  Way hoooo my baby oooooh…

  Take me to the lands of dreaming,

  there small birds do sing so sweet,

  calm noontide s
ails into evening,

  where the sun and moon both meet.

  Way hoooo my baby oooooh…

  Hush, you stream, be ever tranquil,

  silent now each paddle blade,

  trees o’erhead lean down to kiss you,

  sunlight warm and cool dark shade.

  Way ooooh my baby oooooh.”

  Sitting in the lead logboat with her Guosim friend Osbil, who was still acting as prowspot, Maudie was pleasantly surprised at the silence which had fallen over the vessels. Looking back, she saw the otter and shrewbabes in the second boat, they were all sound asleep. “Well, who’d have thought a few verses of gentle singin’ could send those little bounders to dreamland, wot?”

  Osbil continued prowspotting as he replied. “Aye, that an’ a few drops o’ missus Frenna’s shuteye potion. ’Tis nought but simple herbs, but it does the job every time, believe me, mate.”

  Barbowla swam alongside the logboat, issuing directions to the Guosim paddlers. “Better step up the pace, buckoes, Kurdly’s rats have all reached the bottom o’ the falls, they’ll be right on our tail afore long. Stay straight on this course, but keep yore eyes peeled for a big, white willow tree to yore right. I’ll direct ye from there.”

  Osbil saluted with his rapier. “Straight ahead it is, I’ll watch out for the willow.”

  Log a Log Luglug had stationed himself in the coracle, with Rigril and Teagle. They kept to the rear of the logboats, constantly watching behind for the first sign of Kurdly and his Brownrats. It came sooner than they had anticipated.

  Teagle spied about twoscore of the vermin front-runners in the distance. “Here they come, mates, all painted, well-armed an’ ready for the slaughter. They’re still a fair way off, but comin’ along fast!”

  Luglug groaned. “Aye, an’ they’re comin’ along the left bank, too, we could’ve done without that!”