Brigadier Thyme watched the scene from the low boughs of a sycamore some distance away. Finally satisfied that everything was ready, he climbed down and reported back to Clary.


"Operation Oarslave now feasible to commence.


Sah!"


"Good scout, Thyme. Right, troops. Forward, the Buffs. Oh, and Rosie, try to remember, will you, one whoop an' we're in the soup!"


"Oh, I say, Clary, jolly poeticone whoop an' we're in the soup. Not to worry, I've given up whoopin' for


the moment."


oo


A searat named Fleawirt lay asleep facing the main fire. It was difficult trying to sleep in open woodlands after a life of sprawling to rest in the swaying, rocking crew's accommodation of a ship. Fleawirt awoke. His face was scorched and burning with the fire, though his back was stiff and chilled to the bone by the night breezes. He turned grumpily over, placing his back toward the fire. As he did, a sharp twig stuck in his cheek. Fleawirt sat up, cursing silently as he rubbed his injured face. Then a very strange thing happened.


Sitting up, facing away from the fire, Fleawirt found himself looking at the oarslaves. They lay sleeping, chained in pairs, some whimpering in their dreams, others clutching each other tightly in slumber. Then


296


there was a slight clink of chains and four oarslaves vanished into the ground!


Fleawirt rubbed his eyes and yawned, half turning to He down once more. Then the oddness of what he had seen hit him. He stood bolt upright as another two slaves disappeared into the earth!


"Cap'n Graypatch! Look, the slaves!"


Fleawirt's cries aroused the entire camp. Graypatch sprang up and began shaking Fleawirt.


"What's goin' on? Tell me!"


"The slaves, the ground, four of 'em, then another two, the floor, I saw it!"


"Stop babblin' like a fool. Now tell me what happened, properly!"


"Well, I was sittin' up awake an' all of a sudden I saw four of the oarslaves just vanish into the floor. I looked again an' another two went, right in front o' me eyes, Cap'n. I swear it!"


The oarslaves were wakening, yawning and rubbing at their eyes as the noise around them grew into a hubbub. Graypatch ran among them, scattering the thin bodies left and right, a flaring torch held high. Quickly he counted themtwelve, including the squirrel. Fleawirt was rightsix oarslaves had vanished, somehow. He stumbled as he stepped into a small pothole, which on closer inspection proved to be a tunnel which had been backfilled after the slaves escaped. Graypatch sank his sword uselessly into the loose earth, stabbing at it wildly.


"It was a tunnel! They got six slaves out through a stinkin' tunnel!"


Bigfang strode about, nodding his head knowingly. "So, a tunnel, eh, matesthat's how they did it. Prob'ly got some of those squirrels to do their diggin' for them. I thought so!"


Graypatch grabbed Bigfang by the nose. Digging his claws in tightly, he twisted with cruel ferocity.


297


"Moles, muckhead, not squirrels! Moles, d'ye hear


mer


Bigfang pranced about, tears squirting from his eyes. Graypatch aimed a hard kick, which caught him in the rear and sent him sprawling.


"Now up on yer claws, the lot o' yer. Spread out an' get searchin'. They can't have gone far. I want 'em back, dead or alive!"


Clary, Thyme and Rosie appeared, just outside the clearing, "I say, slobberchops, you shouldn't've twisted the poor chap's hooter like that. He was right, we did use squirrels!"


"Get theeeeeemmm!" Graypatch's voice was somewhere between a roar and a screech.


The searats charged forward in a mob at the three hares. Then they hit the tripwires that had been carefully set anew. The hares melted into the woodland, being careful to travel in the opposite direction from Foremole and his crew, who were guiding the six slaves back to Red wall.


Graypatch and several others who had been at the back of the charge followed the hares, leaping over the sprawling heaps of rats who had fallen or tripped or been pushed onto the tripwires by the momentum of their dashing comrades. Graypatch looked back at them over his shoulder.


"Blunderin' idiots!"


There was an immense tug on his legs. Instantly he was swinging back and forth as he dangled upside-down from a spring rope tied to a tree limb. His head cracked painfully against that of Frink, who was also suspended upside down by a rope.


Back at the camp, Bigfang had scrambled upright and was shouting, though his nose looked like a ripe plum ready to burst.


"See, I told you it was squirrels. I was rightthe rabbit said so!"


298


Chains clinked as hammers thudded, sending keen-tipped chisels biting through the chains and fetters of the oarslaves. Foremole patted each one fondly upon the head as they were freed.


"Hurr, guddbeasts, you'm go naow an' jump in 'ee barth, thurr be clean cloathen an' vittles aplenty when you'm warshed!"


Mother Mellus wiped her eyes on a spotted kerchief. "You can almost see their bones sticking out, poor little things!"


Flagg struck the last of the chains free. "Don't fret, marm. They've got mouths to eat withthey'll soon be fat as hogs."


Gabriel Quill sniffed. "Speak for yourself, stream-dog!"


oo


Before they went to the dormitories, Clary and his


friends sat with Foremole and the crew around the


fireplace in Cavern Hole, drinking a nightcap of mulled


October ale.


"Excellent night's work, chaps. Eight down, twelve


to go, wot?" Thyme stared into the flames. "Right you are, old


sport, but it's goin' to get much harder each time, now


that they know what we're really after. Much jolly well


harder." Hon Rosie emptied her tankard at a single gulp.


"Clary, may I?"


"Oh, I s'pose so. Permission t' carry on, Rosie." "I say, Clary, thanks. Whoohahahahahooh!" Dan'1 and Groaby banged their tankards down upon


the hearth, wincing visibly at the ear-splitting sound. "Gwaw! That's et, oi'm arf t' bed!" "Hurr, an' oi too, afore oi'm deafened fer loif!"


299


Captain Catseyes of the Seatalon patted the new sword at his side proudly. Never had a searat set eyes upon such a sword as this. He watched the two new oarslaves bending their backs as they pulled in stroke with the others.


"Up an' one, an' down an' two, Bend yer backs an' curse yer birth. Up an' one, an' down an' two, Pull those oars fer all your worth!"


The grating voice of the slavedriver echoed across the benches as he strode up and down, flicking his cruel whip, reciting the crude rowing poem as he laid out about him.


"Up an' one, an' down an' two, Some have backs without no hide. Up an' one, an' down an' two, Those who couldn't row have died. Up an' one, an' down an' two, Here's a gift from me to you!"


He lashed out with the whip. An oarslave arched his back and screamed.


300


Catseyes nodded toward Dandin and Durry. "The two new 'uns, how are they shapin' up, Blodge?"


Blodge the slavedriver flicked his whip toward the pair. "No better or worse than the rest o' them, Cap'n. Though they're still fresh an' strong, a season or so eatin' slave slops an' the weight of that oar they're chained to should knock some o' the starch out of 'em."


Catseyes strode down the alleyway between the oars until he was facing Dandin. The searat Captain drew the sword, watching the lantern lights playing up and down the length of its wondrous blade.


"You don't look much like a warrior mouse. Where'd a liddle fish like you come by a blade such as this beauty?"


Dandin's eyes blazed fire at the Captain of the Seatalon. "I am Dandin of Redwall. That is the sword of Martin the Warrior. You are not fit to wear it, rat!"


Catseyes nodded to Blodge. The slavedriver flailed his whip hard against Dandin's back. The young mouse did not even flinch, he continued to glare his hatred at the searat Captain. Catseyes laughed.


"Feisty Hddle brute, ain't you. Well, we'll see about that."


Fishtail the mate leaned across the rail, listening to his Captain's instructions as Terramort Isle appeared like a tiny pinpoint on the horizon.


"Cap'n Flogga should be there with the Rathelm. It could be dangerous fer me, Fishtail I'm no friend of Gabool or Flogga. When we drop anchor in Terramort cove, I want you to go up to Fort Bladegirt an' spy out the lay o' the land. Take most of the crew with yer, matey. I'll be all right aboard here with Blodge an' five others. Stay well armed an' careful, keep an eye peeled on that Gabool and learn if anybeast brought Graypatch back an' claimed the booty from the Darkqueen's hold. Oh, an' you might have a chat with Flogga, see if he favors Gabool, an' listen out fer any talk of the other


301


Cap'ns formin' an alliance against Gabool. But mind what I say, matey: be careful of Gaboolhe's wild, an' crazy with it. I'll wait aboard this ship for yer return.


Got that?"


"Aye aye, Cap'n. Leave it t' me."


oo


The gruff voice of Blodge rang through the galley. "Ship oars, me lucky buckos. We'll ride in to Terramort on


the swell."


All around Dandin and Durry the oarslaves leaned heavily on their oars, bringing the shafts down and locking them by wedging the ends beneath the benches, thus leaving the oarblades sloping high out of the sea to port and starboard, giving Seatalon the appearance of a bird with outspread wings as she drifted toward Terramort on billowing sails.


Durry licked his paws gently. "I feel powerful sorry for the pore child who owns these paws. What my o' nuncle'd say if he saw his fav'rite nephew a-chained up in some scurvy searats' galley I fears to think!"


Dandin wiped beading sweat from his brow. "I wonder where we are."


The little oarslave directly in front of him, a field-mouse named Copsey, provided the answer.


"We're coasting into Terramort. Didn't you hear Blodge? It makes no difference where we drop anchor, us rowers stay right here, chained to our benches. That's the life of an oarslave, Dandin."


She bent her head against the oar and rested. Dandin patted her scarred back. "Not if I can help it, Copsey." Wooden bowls were passed among the slaves. They leaned toward the alleyway, each holding the big bowl in their right paw, the smaller in the left. Blodge passed with his assistant, a small, evil-faced rodent named Clatt. They had with them two wooden buckets, one full of boiled barley meal, the other of water. Blodge filled the large bowls with water, Clatt the smaller ones with barley meal. Both rats thought it great fun to slop


302


the water or meal carelessly at a bowl so that it missed and splashed upon the deck.


"Come on, scum. Lively now, an' hold those bowls out straight!"


"Aye, we're too kind to you idlers, treat you like a pair o' nursemaids, we do. Hee hee hee!"


Using their paws to eat the lukewarm mess, Dandin and Durry listened in to Blodge and Clatt's conversation.


"When I get to Bladegirt I'm gonna grab some roasted seabird an' sweet wine an' some o' those sugary dried fruits King Gabool keeps."


"Huh, you goin' to Fort Bladegirt? No such luck, Clatt. You're stayin' aboard with me'n Cap'n Catseyes an' four others."


"Gerrout, Blodge. Yer jokin' with me!"


"Cap'n's orders, matey. Do as yer told, or else!" Blodge drew a claw across his throat, indicating what would happen.


Clatt threw the bucket down, its contents slopping out onto the deck. "Hell's teeth! We may's well be oarslaves, stuck aboard this old tub all the time while others are havin' a good leave on Terramort. It's not right, mate, I tell ye. I'm sick an' fed up with it!"


"Nan, you stop 'ere with me, Clatt. I think there's goin' t' be trouble up at Bladegirt. Best we stay out of the way. Tell you what, shipmatewe'll go to the forecastle head cabin an' make skilly, you an' me."


Clatt brightened up at this suggestion. "An' some raisin duff. Can we make a pan o' raisin duff?"


"Aye, skilly an' duff. That'll gladden our 'earts. Ain't nothin' like skilly an' duff in a snug liddle cabin."


Clatt turned to the nearest oarslave, a very young shrew. "Avast, you bilgepup, d'you like skilly an' duff?" The young shrew nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir!"


"Well, you won't be gettin' none, it's all fer me an' Blodge. Hee hee hee!"


303


Durry Quill gritted his teeth as they strode off laughing. "I'd like to meet that Clatt when I don't have no


chains on one day!"


oo


The Seatalon rode at anchor in Terramort cove as evening gave way to night. The wind had dropped, leaving the air still and warm. Captain Catseyes leaned over the rail, staring up to the lighted windows of Bladegirt. Blodge popped his head out of the forecastle cabin.


"Skilly an' duff, Cap'n. Me an' Clatt made enough fer all claws aboard."


Catseyes left the rail, adjusting the sword of Martin so it rode more comfortably at his side. "Thankee, Blodge. I think I will!"


00


The weary oarslaves were slumbering chained to their oars as the hooded mouse stole carefully into the galley-deck. He glanced around, shaking his head at the pitiful figures. The mouse was not young anymore, but he was well set up and strongly built. From his belt he drew several sharp three-cornered rasp files. Dandin had been watching him through half-closed eyes; now the young mouse sat upright as the other crept past him. Dandin caught hold of the stranger's dark cloak. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"


The hooded mouse held up a warning paw. "Ssshhh! I bring freedom!"


Dandin nodded, recognizing immediate friendliness in the stranger's voice. "What do you want me to do? Say the word and I'll help."


"Wake the others as quietly as you can. Here, take one of these and use it on those chains."


Dandin accepted the file. He shook Durry and Copsey gently. "Hush now, be quiet. Wake up the others, but do it softly."


All around Dandin oarslaves were being wakened as he worked away with the file. It was a good file. He


304


freed himself then began on Durry's chains. The hedgehog smiled at him in the darkness.


"Wait'11 I tells my o' nuncle 'bout this!"


The strange mouse gave a low whistle, and twenty other mice entered the galleydeck. They set about helping to release the slaves.


A small thin harvestmouse stood up. Unable to contain himself, he laughed aloud and threw his broken chains noisily to the deck. One of the helpers muffled the harvest mouse in his cloak, but it was too late.


Pawsteps sounded above, then Captain Catseyes' high-pitched voice called out: "Who's that? Who's down there?"


The stranger took off his cloak. Beneath it he was a broad, fit-looking fellow, clad in a searat jerkin, though Dandin noticed that he was completely silvery gray. The mouse bundled the cloak up and passed it to Dandin. "Who's that calling out on deck?"


"Captain Catseyes, the Master of this ship. Why?"


"Everybeast back at their oars, hide the broken chains and leave this to me. Be quick now!"


The oarslaves seated themselves, whilst the other cloaked mice hid beneath the galley benches.


"Cap'n . . . Cap'n Catseyes," the strange mouse called up to the deck. "Gabool sent me down. His Majesty has news for you ..."


Catseyes came bounding down the companionway. Anxiously he strode up to the strange mouse. "What news from King Gabool?"


The strange mouse stepped close in, drawing a dagger from the back of his belt. "Gabool doesn't know, but I brought you this!"


He slew Catseyes with one fierce thrust.


Dandin leaped forward. Unbuckling the dead searat's belt, he retrieved the swrord and scabbard. More paw-steps sounded above on deck.


"Cap'n, can we get some wine from yer cabin?"


305


"Aye, skilly 'n' duff's better with a drop o' wine, Cap'n."


"That's Blodge and Clatt," Dandin whispered to the stranger. "Leave them to us when they come down."


"Right, how many more aboard?"


"Four besides them."


"We'll take care of them. Get that body out of sight and sit back down as you were. The rest of you hide."


Blodge and Clatt came stumbling down into the half-light of the galleydeck. Blodge peered around bad-tem-peredly.


"Cap'n, where are yer? Ain't we goin' t' get no wine tonight?"


"Not tonight or any other night, slavedriver!"


Clatt gave a squeak of dismay; blocking the stairway was the stranger, backed by twenty hooded mice. He whirled about to find himself facing Dandin. Blodge unwound the whip from about his shoulders and raised it threateningly. "Get back, or I'll have the hide off yer!"


Dandin chopped the nailing lash in two pieces with a sweep of his sword. "You'll never use that whip on another creature, rat!"


He hurled himself upon the slavedriver, who fell back yelling hoarsely as he grappled at his belt for his own sword.


Copsey and Durry gave Clatt a mighty shove in the back, and he shot from the alleyway straight into the arms of a bunch of oarslaves who were waiting, swinging lengths of broken chain. Clatt had time for just one short despairing scream. Just one, no more!


From above decks the sound of four bodies splashing in the sea told the oarslaves that the stranger and his companions had dealt finally with the remaining crew members. Dandin stood straight, distastefully wiping his sword upon the fallen body of Blodge.


"He died as he lived, a cringing coward who could only strike out at helpless creatures in chains!"


306


The freed slaves made their way up to the deck. The stranger and his band were loading up with any weapons that they could find. He nodded at Dandin "All finished down there?"


The young mouse sheathed his sword. "As finished as it'll ever be. What next?"


"We take everything we can from this ship-weapons, food and clothing-then we get off and sink her. From there we go to the caves at the other side of the island. When the time is right we will attack Fort Bladegirt and put an end to Gabool the Wild. Are you with us?" J


The freed slaves looked at Dandin. He grasped the stranger's outstretched paw.


"We're with you every step of the way and glad to be along! My name is Dandin of Red wall. What's yours?"


The stranger swirled his dark cloak about him, a broad, honest grin creeping across his strong features. "They call me Joseph the Bellmaker!"


307


33


The morning was a fine one. Blue smoke from the searat campfires drifted through the high woodland trees, mingling with sloping shafts of sunbeam across leafy boughs of oak, ash, rowan, sycamore, elm and beech. Soft mosses, short grass and variegated flowers carpeted the ground, broken here and there by beds of fern and flowering nettles.


The beauty of it all was lost upon the searats; food was the more practical problem of the moment. Gray-patch had argued, ranted and cajoled, but the faction led by Bigfang and Lardgutt won the day, appealing to greed rather than conquest. Hunger made Bigfang unexpectedly eloquent on the subject of food.


Graypatch listened, knowing he had no real answer to Bigfang's argument.


"Shipmates, we ain't woodland rats, we're searats. We always had plenty o' fish an' seabirds too, besides what stores we could plunder. But here we ain't got nothin', an' there's too many of us to be sharin' nothin'! Oh, leaves, berries, roots 'n' fruits are fine, if y'know which are the right ones an' which ones won't make a body sick or even kill yer. But we don't! So we're goin' to starve if we can't get proper vittles to eat!"


308


There was massive agreement with this statement. Graypatch shrugged.


"Well, fair enough, Bigfang. Tell us the answer you're so smart!"


Bigfang had his answer ready this time. "I say we use our weapons to get food, not to fight some Abbey or guard a lot of useless oarslaves. Split up, go in gangs, fish the streams an' ponds, kill the birds with slingshots, arrows, anythin', but let's get some decent grub inside of us!"


Amid the roars of approval, Graypatch waved his sword for silence.


"All right, all right! That sounds sensible t' me. I never had no objections to a searat crew feedin' theirsel-ves, mateys. But there's still these oarslaves. They're ours, and we can't let 'em be nabbed away by those Redwallers, so I suggest we build a cage for 'em, then we can go huntin'. Avast, what do ye say?"


Bigfang pointed his sword at Graypatch. "You do what you want, rat. We're goin' to get food!"


The entire crew stopped what they were doing and watched. Bigfang had finally laid down his challenge. Graypatch gripped his sword tight and confronted his enemy.


"So, it's come t' this, eh, matey!"


Bigfang circled, crouching low, sword at the ready. "I'm no matey o' yours, rat!"


"Haharr, I reckon you fancy yourself as Cap'n round here!"


"Couldn't make no worse a job of it than you, smart-mouth!"


With a roar they clashed, blade striking upon blade. The searats formed a circle for them to fight in. Bigfang was strong; he used his sword like a club, hacking and bludgeoning at his opponent. Graypatch was vastly more experienced; he ducked and parried, dodging away from the main attacks, using the campfire as a barrier.


309


They fought in silence, none of the crew shouting encouragement to one or the other lest the shouter back the losing beast. Dust and ashes from the fire rose in billows as the pair battled savagely, Bigfang gaining the upper claw slightly with his size, strength and ferocity. Graypatch countered most of the moves, sometimes making Bigfang look awkward and ungainly, but as sword locked sword they gritted and sweated, their faces almost touching.


Graypatch began to realize that he was not as young and powerful as Bigfang. Fighting desperately to keep the foe from his blind side, he felt himself starting to tire and weaken. But experience was on his side; he kept his single eye on the main chance. Striving wildly, he turned Bigfang so that his back was to the fire and redoubled his attack. Bigfang was forced backward until one foot went into the fire. He yelped in pain. Gray-patch dodged away, as if giving his adversary a chance to recover. Bigfang looked down at his scorched foot-claws for a vital second.


It cost him his life. Graypatch snatched the spear that Frink was holding and hurled it. He was too close to miss.


From the branches of a tall beech close by, a fat squirrel sat watching. He shook his head as he saw Bigfang fall. "Hmm, could've told him that'd happen. That old rat's


no fool!"


oo


Graypatch stood with his narrow chest heaving. He glared around the circle to reassert his authority as Captain.


"Come on, riffraff, anyone else wanna be Cap'n?


Speak up!"


A deathly hush had settled over the crew. The only sound was the crackling of the campfire as they stood staring at the carcass of Bigfang, who only moments


310


ago had been alive and arguing. Graypatch laid the flat of his sword against Lardgutt's throat.


"Come on, bagbelly. Do you fancy tryin' fer Cap'n?" Lardgutt could not even gulp, the sword was so tight on his neck. "Not me, you're the Cap'n . . . Cap'n!"


Graypatch nodded approvingly, immediately changing his mood. "Right, matey. I'm the Cap'n an' I gives the orders. So let's see plenty o' stout wood bein' cut to make a cage fer our oarslaves. After that we'll head out into these woodlands an' plunder all the vittles a searat can lay claws on. Now, what've ye got t' say to that?"


Though the tone was subdued they all replied, "Aye-aye, Cap'n."


Rufe Brush gave a shout of delight as the fat squirrel came bounding in across the north wall with acrobatic skill.


"Oak Tom, you old bushrumbler! Well, curl my tail!"


They hugged and wrestled, as squirrels do, then the normally taciturn Rufe held his friend out at paw's-length.


"Let me look at you, treejumper. By the fur, you're twice as fat as a badger at a feast. What've you been doin' to yourself?"


Oak Tom patted his vast stomach and chortled. "Yukyukyuk! Rovin' and eatin', though mostly eatin'. Doesn't slow me down at all. I'm faster than I ever was, young Rufe!"


Again they fell to wrestling and hugging. Several Dibbuns had gathered to view the performance. They called encouragement, thinking it was some sort of fight.


"Bite his tail off, Rufe!"


"Kick 'im in 'ee gurt fat tummy, squirr'l!"


Mother Mellus and Abbot Bernard came hurrying over. Oak Tom released Rufe and performed several acrobatic pawsprings.


"Abbot Bernard, how are ye, Father? Oh, look out, it's old stripy top. Bet y'can't catch me for a bath now, Ma Mellus!"


The badger put on a mock-serious expression, wagging her paw at him. "Just let me catch you, Oak Tom. You were the worst Dibbun Redwall ever had to put up with. I'll wager you've not had a bath since you left here last summer."


The fat, nimble Oak Tom bounded up on Mellus's broad back and whispered in her ear, " 'Course I have. Here, this is for you."


Pulling a small package from his traveling bag, he dropped it in Mellus's paw. The badger sniffed it appreciatively.


"Oh, jasmine and lavender soap! Where did you get it? No, don't tell me, I'd hate to think of one of my Dibbuns stealing."


Oak Tom pulled a long face. The Abbot patted his head fondly.


"She's only joking, Tom. Come and talk to me, tell me all the news of your travels. You're just in time for lunchwe're eating out in the orchard. Summer salad, leek and celery soup, hot rootbread and strawberry trifle to follow."


"You must've known I was comin' back. My favorite of all: strawberry trifle. Yahoooooo!"


Oak Tom went hurtling away toward the orchard in a series of blurring somersaults. Runn and Grubb watched him go.


"He must've been a terrible Dibbun, worser'n us!" "Buhurr aye, oi weager'ee wurr a gurt fat hinfant!"


oo


The news Oak Tom brought was extremely serious, particularly to Clary and his long patrol. They listened intently.


Mellus glanced anxiously at Clary when Oak Tom finished telling what he had witnessed at the searat


312


camp. Clary paced about in the shade of a gnarled pear tree.


"A big cage, y'say. Just how big, Tom?"


"Big 'n' strong enough t' hold all twelve o' them. Well made too, with thick branches an' lashings. Very heavy, I'd say."


Clary struck the tree with his paw. "Darn! I knew it'd come t' this, somehow."


"What does it mean, Colonel?"


Clary coughed and brushed his whiskers with the back of a paw. "Oh nothin', marm. At least, naught fer you to worry your head about. Leave it t' me. I'll have a word with my jolly old pals we'll sort it out. Tickety-boothat's the word, wot!"


Simeon groped about with his paw until he touched Mellus's cheek. "There was a lot of false bravado in what Clary said. I think he's worried."


Saxtus watched the lanky figure of the hare retreating toward the Abbey. "Yes, the more anxious hares get the lighter they seem to make of things, have you noticed?"


Mellus stared at the young mouse intently. "That's a shrewd observation for one so young, Saxtus!"


oo


In the dormitory allotted to them, the three hares sat upon the rush-matted floor. Clary had laid out a plan of the searat encampment with various bedroom articles. He placed a lantern squarely in the middle. "That's where the bally cage is, chaps."


They studied it, Thyme stroking his waxed moustache whiskers.


"Hmmm, difficult, extremely awkward, wot! But y'say they've all gone out killin' birds an' the like. P'raps there's a chance we could pay the confounded camp a visit now and make a surprise sortie?"


Clary shook his head. "No chance, old lad. Oak Tom went an' scared off all the game in the blinkin' neighborhood. There won't be a bird or a fish for miles.


313


They'll prob'ly be back by now, roastin' roots an' burnin' apples an' whatnot. It's a rotten ol' standoff."


Hon Rosie shrugged. "No way outwe're stumped!"


Clary sighed. "There is one way, the only sure way. I knew it'd come down t' this eventually, as soon as I saw those searats in Mossflower country I felt it in m' bones."


They sat looking at each other awhile, then Clary sniffed airily.


"Still an' all, Lord Rawnblade wouldn't have us do anythin' else."


Thyme chuckled. "Rather, old Rawney'd have a blue fit if we didn't!"


Hon Rosie picked up her lance and began polishing it. "I say, then let's do it, just for a lark. Whoohahah-


ahooh!"


oo


Gabool the Wild did not bother covering up the pit anymore. He cackled madly as he gazed in at the loathsome sight of the huge black scorpion perching on the carcass of Fishtail, former ship's mate of the Seatalon.


"Haharrharrharr! That'll teach Catseyes t' send scurvy traitors spyin' on me. What d'ye say, Skrabblag?"


The glistening arachnid clicked and rustled balefully. Gabool strode out gesturing into the air as he conversed with himself.


"No need for Cap'ns when there's a King! I'll show 'em, badgers 'n' bells, ships 'n' searats, Cap'ns 'n' Kings. Haharr, round an' round they run, a-chasin' each other through my head, but Gabool will win in the end!"


He swept into the banqueting hall, where the assembled searats watched in astonishment as he stood, claws on hips, talking to the great tarnished bell which dominated the center of the floor.


"Go on, ring yer way out o' that one, hearty! Oh, you'll sing fer me one day. Ring, ring, Gabool the King!"


He whirled upon the two crews. "An' what're you all gawpin' at, pray? Nothin' t' do, nothin' to report?


"The Seatalon's been sunk in the cove!"


Not bothering to see which rat had spoken, Gabool dashed to the window. "Hellfires! That's two vessels in as many days, first Darkqueen an' now Seatahnl"


"That wasn't Darkqueen, Lord, it was Rathelm, Cap'n Flogga's ship."


Gabool stroked his long, unkempt beard. "Darkqueen, Rathelm, same thing. There's Waveblade, Nightwake, Crabclaw, an' Blacksail, all t' come in. Let me know the moment they anchor."


After he had left the hall the gossip ran rife.


"Gabool's crazier'n a scalded beetle!"


"Don't let him fool yer, matey. He could still recall what ships he's got out at seaaye, an' their names, too."


"I tell yer he's bats, chattin' away to a bell, pretty as y'please."


"Well, crazy or not, this is the place where all his booty's hid. Cap'n Flogga told me that."


"Aye, an' where's Flogga now?"


"An' Fishtail as well. I've seen nary a sight o' him since we came here."


"I say let's wait'll the rest o' the fleet's in, then we'll see what the other Cap'ns have t' say about all this rigamarole."


"Waitwhat else can we do but wait, shipmates? Both our vessels are sittin' on the bed o' the cove down there. Somebeast scuttled 'em; they're sunk!"


"Gabool's changed. See his eyes? They're red like blood. He's actin' strange, mates runnin' round this place filthy as some ol' tramp. That was never his way. I don't mind tellin' yer, I'm scared."


"Anyrat who isn't is a fool, matey. But we're stuck 'ere, so we better make the best of it. Any vittles in the kitchens, I wonder?"


315


Tarquin kept for'ard lookout, Mariel took the stern, Rawnblade stood at the tiller, steering a course off-line with the little swallow's flight as it dangled on its thread beneath the awning.


Mariel left off scanning the horizon to stare at the impressive figure of Lord Rawnblade Widestripe. He resembled some giant stepped out of legend, clad partially now in helmet and breastplate, the sword Vermin-fate resting beneath one paw as he steered with the other. Spray glistened, dewing the shaggy fur, as his keen dark eyes gazed out across the seas, brows lowered as if he were pondering some mystery known only to badger Lords. This then was the creature for whom her father had cast and made the great bell; she could think of no nobler or worthier owner for her father's masterpiece. Her father, Joseph. The name meant everything to Mariel: security, love, guidance and a comradeship between parent and child that was more like having a best friend than a father at times . . . his humorous twinkling eyes and ready wit.


"I say, old gel, have y'gone asleep back there? Ships ahoy and astern!"


The sound of Tarquin's voice brought Mariel back to reality.


Three sets of sails had appeared on the horizon in their wake, and Lord Rawnblade gave swift instructions. Without questioning his authority, Mariel and Tarquin took up their positions whilst the badger Lord concealed himself in the cabin below.


The three vessels Nightwake, Crabdaw and Blacksail were traveling back to Terramort in loose convoy, though now they sensed Terramort was reasonably near they broke formation and began racing to see who could anchor first in the cove.


Captain Hookfin of the Blacksail held the tiller steady as they ran before the southwest wind, tacking occasionally to keep his craft on course. He cursed as


316


the Nightwake drew level, with her master Riptung at the helm. "A cask of dark wine I beat ye back, Riptung!"


Riptung swung the tiller over recklessly, causing him to veer. "Haharr, not in that ol' tub y'won't, matey!"


With superb skill and daring, the corsair Grimtooth plied his craft between them both. "Hoho, I'll show ye how a real searat sails, mates, an' I'll drink that wine to teach ye both a lesson in searatship!"


The Nightwake was now closest to Mariel and the Waveblade as the three ships bore onward, all oars pulling and sails at full stretch.


Riptung wiped spray from his eyes and looked across. From the distance all he could see was a very small steersrat and an extra-lanky lookout, both decked out in the tattered finery of searats.


"Ahoy, Waveblade, where have ye come from?" Riptung called out.


The small steersrat indicated back across her left shoulder, but did not shout a reply. Riptung understood.


"South, eh. We wer down that way, must've missed yer. Are you on for a race back to Terramort, cask o' wine fer the prize?"


The small rat shook its head, jiggling the tiller and shrugging.


Riptung nodded. "Rudder trouble, matey? Where's Cap'n Orgeye?"


The lanky one on lookout pantomimed sleep, resting his head on the foredeck rail and pointing below.


Riptung laughed aloud. "Haharr, lazy ol' Orgeye, snorin' like a hog. Too much wine, eh?"


The lanky one did a stagger and held his stomach and forehead at the same time. Riptung smote the tiller, laughing uproariously.


"Scupper me, the drunken ol' blubberfish. Ahoy there, tell 'im when he wakes that he missed a chance o' winnin' a big cask o' wine."


3*7


The two searats waved back as the ships drew away, racing pell-mell for Terramort, Riptung shouting tidings of Orgeye to the other two Captains, who shook their heads with merriment.


Rawnblade's huge head poked out of the cabin doorway. "Have they gone?"


Tarquin blew out a long sigh of relief. "Aye, m'Lord, but it was a close thing. Any nearer to us and the game would've been up; they would have seen we weren't bally searats."


Mariel leaned back against the tiller, wiping her brow. "Whew! See that? It isn't seaspray, it's sweat. How they could ever have taken me and Tarquin for a couple of scurvy searats, I'll never know."


Rawnblade strode up on deck. "We'll furl in the sails and let them get in to Terramort well ahead of us. Up you go, Woodsorrel. I'm too heavy to be climbing masts, and Mariel's needed on deck."


Tarquin took a look at the swaying mainmast billowing with sail. He threw a paw across his eyes and staggered giddily.


"Oh, corks. Do I have to climb up that great swayin' thing an' fold all those windy old bedsheets? Do I really, sir?"


Rawnblade pointed a stern paw to the topmast. "Up, Woodsorrel, up!"


Tarquin spat on his paws but made a last-ditch plea to a passing gull. "I say, birdie old bean, just furl a jolly old sail or two as you're passin', there's a good chap."


The sea gull flew heedlessly on. Rawnblade stood with his hefty paw still pointed into the rigging. "Up!"


Tarquin nervously scaled the mast, calling out to the sea gull, who had decided to hover overhead and view the performance.


"Yah rotten ol' featherbag, bet your mum was a cuckoo. Oh golly, if Hon Rosie could see me now she'd split her fur laughin'."


318


34


At that precise moment Hon Rosie had never been more serious in her life. She stood in a small wooded area, just out of sight of the searat camp. With her were Clary, Thyme, Rufe Brush, Oak Tom and the pretty squirrel Treerose. The hares were armed to the teeth lances, bows, arrows and a dagger apiece. Clary was talking to the squirrels.


"Now you know the drill, chaps. As soon as I shout out t' you then you come runnin', get the slaves away pretty darn quick an' head north, take a loop south an' straight back to the Abbey. I've left that big otter chappie Flagg a notehe'll know what t' do. Don't forget nowwhatever happens, keep the bally slaves goin' full speed an' get 'em back to Redwall posthaste, wot!"


Rufe Brush clapped Clary on the back. "Got it. Keep the slaves goin' till we're safe back home, right? But what about you three?"


Thyme tested his bowstring. "Don't worry about us, laddie buck. We'll be right as rain, won't we, Rosie?"


"What, oh er, rather! Get the little thingummies back to the wotsit and leave the rest to us. Tickety-boo an' all that!"


Clary glanced at the noon sky. "Time to go, troops!"


Rufe, Tom and Treerose shook paws with the three


319


hares. Clary sent them off. "Get round the back of the camp an' wait for my signal."


"Righto. Goodbye an' good luck, Thyme."


"Toodle-pip, old scout. Chin up."


Treerose waved. "Goodbye, Rosie. See you back at the Abbey."


Rosie nodded. "'Course you will, pretty one. On


your way now,"


When the squirrels had gone, Colonel Clary


inspected his patrol.


"Very smart, top marks, good turnout, wot!"


Thyme brushed his moustache one last time. "No excuse for sloppiness, my old pa always said."


They nocked shafts onto their bowstrings and strode off toward the searat camp, talking softly to each other.


"Make me proud of you now, troops."


"Goes without sayin', Clary. We'll give Rawnblade somethin' to talk about while we're at it, wot!"


"I say, Clary. Is it all right if I laugh 'n' hoot a bit once the show gets under way?"


"Permission granted, Rosie old gel. You chuckle as


much as y'like."


oo


The searats were milling about the fires, shoving and pushing as they tried to get cooking space. There had been no fish or meat taken, as a result of Oak Tom's activities in the area. However, they had found a good supply of wild pears and apples, and plentiful dandelion roots. Now they cooked the fruits, telling each other that there would be good hunting tomorrow when the birds and fish returned.


The oarslaves sat miserably in their long wooden cage. It was exceptionally strong, being made from thick green branches lashed together with rope. The young creatures gazed longingly out at their captors, knowing the only food they would receive was the waste and scraps after the rats had glutted themselves.


Pakatugg pushed his face against the wooden bars.


320


He had grown thin and gaunt in captivity, suffering the kicks and curses of searats. He bitterly regretted tracking the Darkqueen in quest of plunder. Now he sat staring through his prison at the woodlands beyond, thinking of his secret den far away, the cool green light from the shading trees, the mossy rocks and trickling stream . . .


Quite suddenly Pakatugg saw the three hares of the long patrol! They were striding grim-faced through the searat camp, making for the captives in the cage, fully armed with lance and dagger, each with a shaft drawn tautly on a longbow. The squirrel watched them silently, his eyes wide with disbelief. The hares ignored the noisy crew of searats as they marched purposefully forward.


The rat called Fleawirt was first to see them as he turned from the fire. "Hey! Where d'yer think yer go "


Wordlessly Thyme turned and slew him, the heavy oak arrow knocking the startled searat back fully three paces. Pandemonium broke out. Before the rats could grasp what was going on, another two fell, pierced by shafts from Clary and Rosie. As swiftly as they loosed the arrows, the long patrol had fresh ones stretched upon their bowstrings.


"Get them!" Greypatch bellowed, drawing his sword. "Don't just stand there, kill 'em!"


Shaking the numbness of surprise from him, one called Shoreclaw plucked his spear from the ground and raised it. He was so close that Clary's arrow passed through him and wounded another standing behind. Rosie dodged a spear as the trio quickened their pace. She sent her arrow zinging into the snarling face of Kybo, cutting off the scream that issued from his mouth. Now the hares sent out the blood-chilling war cry of Salamandastron; it rang out above the clamor.


"Eulaliaaaaaaa!!!"


They arrived at the cage, still sending arrows from


321


the formidable longbows thudding into the horde of advancing foe rats.


Pakatugg shoved his paw through the bars. "Give me a dagger and I'll cut the ropes!"


Clary tossed him a freshly sharpened knife from Redwall's kitchen. "What ho, you old villain! Chop away at the back of the cage, would you."


A spear took Thyme in the right footpaw. Gritting his teeth, he wrenched it out and hurled it back, wounding its thrower. "Ah well, no more runnin' for me today, wot?"


Rosie stopped a charging rat with her lancepoint. "Hate to remind you, old thing, but we didn't come here to run."


Clary whacked out fiercely, breaking a leg with the heavy yew bow. "Famous last stand, wot? Go out in a blaze of glory an' all that. Right, chaps. Another quick volley, an' give 'em a shout t' let 'em know we've


arrived. Fire!"


Three arrows flew from the longbows into the seething rat pack.


"Eulaliaaaa!!!"


Pakatugg slashed frenziedly at the remaining rope lashings in the back of the cage. The bindings parted and a section of the woodwork fell away. The oarslaves huddled dumbly in a group. He pushed through them, tugging at the back of Clary's belt through the front bars.


"I've done it, part of the back's fallen down!"


Colonel Clary winced as an arrow took him in the shoulder. "Wait'11 the squirrels arrive, old thing, then follow 'em. Take all the slaves an' stick close to them, no matter what."


Clary threw back his head and yelled, "Rufe, Tom, Treerose! Now now now!"


Thyme was kneeling. Wounded in both footpaws, he bravely held his bow horizontally, firing as rapidly as his dwindling quiver of arrows permitted. Glancing


322


back, he saw the three Redwall squirrels herding the timid oarslaves out through the broken cage into the woodlands. Rosie was throttling a struggling rat on her bowstring as Clary held off the mob with a lance held in each paw.


"Mission accomplished, eh, Rosie old scout!"


"Rather! Whoohahahahahooh!"


Standing at the back of the crew, Graypatch ran around belaboring with the flat of his sword as he roared hoarsely, "Get into 'em! Come on, yer sluggards, rush 'em!"


Frink took aim and skillfully threw a long dagger. "Got 'im! I've wounded the big 'un in the ribs!"


The grin of triumph froze on his face as an oak arrow found him.


Thyme tugged at Clary's leg. "Out of arrows, old sport. Get me up on me pins an' give me a lance!"


Pakatugg assisted in getting Thyme upright. Clary glared at him.


"Where did you come from, mister? You were supposed to escape with the rest. I won't stand for insubordination, y'know!"


Armed with a searat cutlass and spear, the squirrel growled dangerously. "I'm stoppin' here, see. Don't like searatsdirty vermin beat me an' made sport o' me. Nobeast does that to Pakatugg. I'll teach 'em!"


Rosie flinched as a sword caught her high on the cheek. "Good for you, Paka, y'nasty old rogue, give 'em vinegar!"


Flinging their empty quivers and longbows into the faces of the rats, the long patrol brandished daggers and lances. Charging forward, they carried the battle straight into the ranks of the enemy, with Clary calling out aloud, "Nice day for it, wot!"


Thyme staggered forward. "Summer's my fav'rite season, old lad!"


Hon Rosie clapped Pakatugg on the back. "Let's give


323


'em one last shout, for Salamandastron an' the jolly old Abbey."


"Eulaliaaaa! Redwaaaaaaall!"


Accompanied by an old squirrel, the long patrol threw themselves into the howling mob of searats.


oo


Not just Flagg, but every creature in Redwall Abbey stood out upon the north ramparts, scanning the path in the pale moonlight for signs of movement. Mellus and Flagg were armed with longbows; lanterns flickered all along the walltop in the hushed silence. Simeon the blind herbalist stood with the Abbot and the Dibbuns, their bedtime forgotten in the tense, waiting atmosphere. Simeon's voice was barely above a whisper, but it could be heard by many as he addressed the Abbot.


"What's happening out there, Bernard?" "Nothing, old friend. It's very quiet and still down there."


"Hurr, be they a-cummen yet, maister Simmen?" Simeon patted Grubb's velvety head. "Only if you're very good and stay quiet, little mole." "Oi be vurry soilint naow. Hussshhher!" "Whatever possessed them to go on such an insane venture?" Mellus murmured to Flagg. "Six of ours against all that rotten horde. And to think it was I who urged Colonel Clary to rescue the slaves in the first place."


Flagg shook his head. "No, marm, it weren't you. Clary had it in his mind to do the deed anyway. He left me a scroll tellin' all. I burned it in the kitchen stove as he wished me to. So don't blame yerself, marm. They were sworn to fight searats from birth; it was their destiny."


oo


Minutes stretched into hours as the Redwallers waited, straining their eyes along the north path, sometimes expectant at a sign of movement, only to have their


324


hopes dashed by the realization that it was merely a shadow as clouds scudded across the moon, or the rustle of breeze-stirred foliage.


The Dibbuns had finally fallen asleep. Sister Sage covered them with blankets from the gatehouse as they lay huddled together in the northwest corner of the walltop.


Saxtus and Sister Serena carried a caldron of leek and celery broth from the kitchens, followed by Friar Alder and Cockleburr, laden with wheat farls.


Gabriel Quill stared toward the eastern horizon over the treetops of Mossflower. "Be dawn in two hour, I reckons."


Foremole was slurping soup rather noisily from a wooden bowl when Simeon placed a restraining paw on him. "Hush, I think I can sense something."


The Abbot held up his paws for silence all around. "What is it, Simeon?"


The blind mouse leaned out across the battlements, his whiskers quivering slightly. "Metal, I thought I could hear metal . . . Yes, there it is! Any signs on the path?"


"None whatsoever."


"Sssh, there it is again, over there on the woodland edgemetal. Wait . . . it's chains, I can hear chains!"


Saxtus sprang up between the battlements with a whoop. "Hurrah! It's them, I can see Rufe Brush leading the slaves out of Mossflower onto the path. Hi, Rufe!"


Flagg acted speedily. "Marm, put an arrow to your bow and stand beside me here. We'll keep them covered. Saxtus, Foremole, Gabe, you'll find spears down by the main gate. Take twenty with you and escort them back in. Keep your wits about you an' your eyes open. Hurry now, they may be followed by searats!"


oo


Without further event the last eleven slaves made it into the safety of Redwall Abbey. As the chains were


325


being cut from their wasted limbs, the Abbot questioned the three squirrels who had taken part in the rescue. Treerose and Oak Tom were crying; even the normally tough Rufe Brush broke down and wept bitterly as they related what they had seen at the magnificent last stand of the long patrol.


"They didn't stand a chance, yet they came through the center of that searat camp laughing and joking. They were completely surrounded!"


Oak Tom was pale, his voice low and trembling. "I never thought that was what they meant to do, but it was the only thing they could have done to free the slaves. What makes it all so strange is that they knew what would happen, how it must end!"


Treerose accepted a spotted handkerchief from Fore-mole. "Oh, they were so brave! Rosie smiled at me and said she'd see me back here. Oh, Father Abbot, why did they do it?"


Abbot Bernard shook his head gently. "Who knows, child, who knows? Certainly none of us at Redwall. We are infants in the ways of war. Colonel Clary and his hares were complete warriors. Their seasons were numbered from birththey knew this was the day their fates were sealed."


Saxtus hung his head. "Yet they knew they were helping Redwall and bringing liberty to the slaves, so they went to meet their destinies smiling and joking. I was wrong about the hares and I'll always remember that when I make judgments about other creatures."


oo


Simeon and the Abbot went back to lock the main gates


before turning in. Dawnlight was beginning to flush


the skies.


"Triumph and tragedy in the one night, old friend." The Abbot kicked away a stone which was hindering


the closing gate. "Right, Simeon . . . Hey, you two,


come in here. Right now!" Bagg and Runn came strolling through the gateway


326


in their nightshirts. Abbot Bernard wagged a stern paw at them.


"You two rascals should be fast asleep in bed. What are you doing out here on the path, may I ask?"


Bagg rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Wavin' g'bye to Flagg an' Mum Mell's."


Throwing the gate back open, the Abbot hurried out onto the path. "Flagg and Mother Mellus? I can't see them. Are you telling whoppers?"


Two heads shook vigorously.


"No, Father Habbit, sir. Honestly!"


"They went up that way an' into the woods." Runn pointed north.


"An' they was carryin' those big bows an' lots of arrers too!"


327


35


Gabool unsheathed his sword and glared suspiciously at the three Captains who had stridden into Fort Blade-girt at the head of their crews.


"What are you three doin' here? What d'yer want?"


"You told us to come back here, Gabool."


"King Gabool. You call me King, d'ye hear. Anyway, what news?"


"No news. Graypatch an' that dratted Darkqueen have vanished from the seasno sign of 'em anywhere."


Gabool tugged absently at his matted beard. "That's no news. I've taken care of Graypatch an' Darkqueen long ago. Belay, have you three swabs been sinkin' ships in Terramort cove?"


"Ships, what ships?"


"Two of 'em, haharr, but never mind that. Have ye heard the bell? What about the great badger, did yer clap eyes on him?"


Riptung looked from Hookfin to Grimtooth. All three raised their eyebrows and shrugged. They watched as Gabool went across to the bell.


"See that! They don't hear ye, so why should I?"


"So it's right, he's mad as a gaffed fish," Riptung whispered to Grimtooth.


328


Gabool spun round. "Avast, don't you three start plottin' behind me back!"


Riptung took a cask from one of his crew. He banged it down upon the table, stoving its head in with the hilt of his sword. "Nobeast's talkin' about yer, King Gabool. Come an' share a beaker o' this wine that I won!"


Grimtooth strode to the window. He stood drinking his wine and looking out to sea, then turned, laughing, to the others.


"Hoho. Lookit, mates, 'ere comes the Waveblade, sailin' inter the cove like a stranded sardine. Haharr, I'll wager ol' Orgeye's still in his bunk snorin'."


They crowded to the windows to watch. Hookfin tugged Riptung's sleeve urgently. "Did you leave any watch aboard yer vessel, matey?"


Riptung swung a claw back over his shoulder. "No, they're all up 'ere with me. Why?"


Hookfin pointed down at the three ships. "Then who's movin' those vessels out ter sea?"


Riptung drew his sword and faced Gabool. "This is one o' your tricks. What's yer game?"


But Gabool did not hear the angry Captain, he was staring wild-eyed at the hulking figure that paced the deck of the Waveblade, distant but unmistakable.


"Aaaaah! It's him, it's the badger!"


Immediately the three searat Captains and their King started bellowing orders to the packed hall.


"Get down t' the cove, stop the Blacksail puttin' out t' sea!"


"Kill the badger. I'll make any rat a Cap'n who slays him!"


"Stop the Nightwake, some scurvy slob's tryin' to steal her!"


"The badger! Kill the badger, shipmates!"


"Get after the Crabdaw, buckos. Bring 'er back t' me!"


"Whoever kills the badger is a rich rat, you got Gabool's oath on that!"


329


Mariel stared at the three searat ships as Wavebladc sailed into Terramort cove. Rawnblade swung the tiller, navigating between them.


"Strange, they've just arrived yet they're going out again."


Tarquin shaded his eyes and peered across. "Aye, an' those aren't searats who are sailin' them. What d'you think's goin' on?"


"Ahoy there, Mariel!"


The mousemaid gasped. There standing on the shore of the cove, waving at her, was Dandin. She jumped up and down, waving back.


"Dandin, Dandin! Stay there, we're coming ashore!"


They plunged over into the shallows and waded onto the beach.


Dandin hugged and patted Tarquin and Mariel, who in their turn squeezed him tightly, ruffling his whiskers and patting his paws as if they could not believe it was really him. Smiling happily (and sniffling a little), Dandin managed to extricate himself from the welcoming huddle.


"I thought you were dead, I was certain you'd been drowned, though there wasn't much time to think about that with the fix me and Durry found ourselves in. I tell you, don't ever become an oarslave, it's worse than being captured by the Flitchaye!"


When the reunion was finished and Lord Rawnblade had been introduced, Mariel looked about. "Where's Durry?"


No sooner had she spoken than, in company with two hooded shrews, Durry came pounding down the path to the cove. The young hedgehog looked very dashing, wearing a broad leather belt with several daggers bristling from it and a hood on his head.


"Oh, Durry, you do look a proper swashbuckler and no mistake!" Mariel laughed.


However, Durry Quill was in no mood for banter. Puffing and blowing, he waved back over his shoulder.


330


"Phew! Quick, 'urry up, there's about five 'undred searats 'ot on me trail. They're comin' after you, I think. Mikla, Flann, get that ship out to sea. I'll take these friends to the caves. Hurry!"


The two shrews Mikla and Flann waded out to the Waveblade to take her out of the searats' reach with the other three ships.


Mariel, Tarquin and Rawnblade followed Durry and Dandin as they raced off in the opposite direction to Bladegirt, toward the sheer rocky coast which veered up on the west side of the cove.


00


The searat frontrunners, with Riptung and Hookfin in the lead, came rushing down the path to the shore of the cove.


Riptung threw his sword down in frustration. "Hell's tail! They're too far out, we'll never get to 'em now!"


Hookfin raced about on the shoreline, searching for a dinghy to pursue his ship in. "Thunder 'n' blood! Ain't there nothin' we can give chase in?"


An enterprising rat called Felltooth stripped off his more cumbersome weapons, thrust a dagger in his headband and entered the water.


"Waveblade's not too far out, Cap'n Riptung. May'aps we can swim to 'er an' use 'er to bring back the other three ships!"


Riptung retrieved his sword. "That's the way, matey. Some of yer go with 'im. Any good swimmers?"


Seven searats gripping daggers in their teeth waded into the sea.


Hookfin pointed in the direction of the crude trail which led up into the high rocks. "Look, it's the badger!"


Dandin glanced down to the yelling hordes racing across the shore to the rocks. "We've been spotted, here they come!"


Lord Rawnblade set his back against a rock, raising


331


the sword Verminfate in both paws. "Get running, I'll stop them!"


Dandin stood in front of the upraised sword. Rawn-blade was beginning to breathe heavily, his eyes glazing over as he watched the searats below. The young mouse took the badger's paw.


"There's no need for you to stay. Come with us. They'll never find us you'll see!"


The badger Lord took considerable moving, all four tugging and pushing him farther up the trail and behind an overhanging outcrop of rocks, where they were out of sight of the rats. Durry went across to a big craggy boulder. He pushed it, moving it easily to one side. Tarquin gasped in astonishment at the tunnel that yawned before them.


"Golly! That's jolly clever, Durrya secret tunnel. How did y'manage to move that whackin' great boulder with one single shove?"


Durry swelled his chest out. "I ate a good breakf'st."


Dandin laughed. "Take no notice of that little fibber. Come inside and I'll show you how easy it is."


They filed into the tunnel, Rawnblade stooping to get his great size through the opening. Dandin was last in. Quickly he set flint and tinder to a dry brush torch and passed it to Mariel. "Hold this and watch."


Leaning out of the cave entrance, Dandin gave the boulder a light push and sprang back. The massive rock tottered slightly and rolled back into its former position, blocking the tunnel entrance. He took a wedge of ship's timber and slammed it tight against the bottom of the boulder. "There, that'll stop anybeast moving it. The whole thing works on a fine balance, you see. Now stay quiet and listen!"


oo


Hookfin and a bunch of searats rounded the rocky outcrop. Before them the winding trail ran upward into the high hills, completely devoid of signs of life. The searat Captain looked hither and thither without suc-


332


cess. "This is the way they came. I'd stake me oath on it. Where've the scurvy blaggards got to?"


"They've vanished, Cap'n!"


"Stow yer gab, biscuitbrain. Nobeast just vanishes. They're round 'ere somewheresI know it."


"Well, my old dad used ter say that badgers were magic beasts. Maybe they 'ave vanished, Cap'n!"


Hookfin aimed a kick at the speaker. "Huh, your ole dad must've lived up a tree with a branch growin' through both ears. Don't talk such bilgerot. No, they're round 'ere, I can feel it."


"May'aps they're be'ind that big boulder, Cap'n."


This remark did not improve Hookfin's temper.


"Aye, an' mayhaps I'll beat your brains out agin that great boulder if yer make another stupid suggestion. Spread out an' look around."


As they searched, one searat close to the boulder nudged his mate. "Can you smell burnin', matey?"


"No, but it'll probably be Cap'n 'ookfin's old brainbox tryin' ter figger out where the badger went. Heeheeheehee!"


"You two over there, stop sniggerin' an' start searching or I'll lay me sword blade across yer backs!"


00


Rocking back and forth with silent mirth, the creatures in the cave listened to the searats outside. Even Rawnblade had to stifle a few chuckles. Finally Dandin took the torch and went off down the winding rocky tunnel.


"Come on, we can't stop here all day listening to those buffoons."


The tunnel sloped gently downward. Mariel stared at the rough rock walls in the flickering torchlight as she followed Durry Quill. "Where are we going, Durry?"


"Down to the main cave, missy. That's where us Trag warriors meet."


"Trag, what's that supposed to mean?"


Durry Quill flourished a fearsome dagger, muttering darkly, "Terramort Resistance Against Gabool. Trag


333


see, first letter o' each word. You'll like our Chief though, he knows you very well."


Mariel was mystified. "Knows me? How?" Durry smiled in the shadows as he answered, '"Cos he's your daddy, Joseph the Bellmaker!"


Dandin felt the torch snatched from his grasp as Mariel dashed past. She disappeared down the winding tunnel, leaving them groping in the darkness as the mousemaid's voice echoed about them at a screaming


pitch.


"Father! Fatheeeeerrr!"


cxo


It was an immense cavern, high above the tidemark on the sheer rock coast, facing the open sea and well lit by the summer sun. Free creatures, former oarslaves and Fort Bladegirt drudges, sat about on rocky ledges, cleaning and preparing weapons, cooking over fires and readying meals. All activity ground to an immediate halt as the mousemaid came hurtling down the tunnel into the cavern.


Heedlessly dropping the flaring torch, she threw herself into the paws of Joseph, hugging him fiercely as her tears flooded into the silver-gray fur of his broad


shoulder.


"Father! Oh, Father! I always knew I'd find you again


someday!"


Joseph the Bellmaker held his only child, the pain and anguish of many long days and nights turning to unbounded joy as a happy smile lit his strong face, banishing the glistening dew which threatened to spill from his proud eyes. "Mariel . . . Mariel my little maid, how you've grown! I never knew all this time whether you were alive, but in my heart I refused to believe that you were dead and I always knew you'd return somehow, my little Mariel!"


The others stumbled out of the tunnel, Durry Quill dabbing tenderly at his swelling snout, which he had banged against the rock walls in the darkness.


334


"Well, wait'll I tell my ol' nuncle, dashin' off an' leavin' a young 'og in the dark like that. Ain't you got no feelin's, missy?"


oo


That night the fires blazed merrily in the cavern of the Trag warriors, huge platters of shrimp and shellfish were served, with wild oat and barley bread, hot from the rocks it had been baked on, casks of preserved fruits taken from searat ships were opened and a fine barrel of daisy and dandelion beer tapped. The friends sat around as Joseph related his story.


"Gabool pushed me from a high window of his banqueting room. Luckily for me I did not strike the rock-face on the way down. I hit the water hard and was knocked senseless; I was weak and ill from being starved and imprisoned, otherwise I might have stayed conscious. The sea must have washed me around the headland, and I came to jammed against a reef on a small inlet somewhere up the coast of Terramort. That's where I was found by that fellow." Joseph pointed to a vole who was seated on a rock ledge sharpening a sword. The vole stood up and bowed to them, introducing himself by name, "Tan Loc." He sat down and resumed sharpening the sword.


"Tan Loc is a fellow of few words," Joseph continued. "He broods a lot. His whole family were slain by searats when he was taken captive. He lives for only one thing: to meet the murderer, Hookfin, Master of the Blacksail. But back to my story. Tan Loc and I helped each other stay alive. We could not afford to be seen it would have meant certain death so we stayed on this side of the island, surviving as best we could. One day we discovered this place and its tunnelsI will show them to you in due course. The tunnels were a new lease of life to us. They led to places all over the island, so we could travel anywhere and remain unseen. Some nights we would steal supplies from the ships, weapons too, and other items which would be


335


of use to us. We soon came across others, house slaves from Fort Bladegirt who had managed to escape, sometimes oarslaves, thrown on the beach because they were too sick and weak to pull an oar anymore. In time our numbers began to swell. That was when we decided to form Trag, Terramort Resistance Against Gabool. Soon now we will be strong enough to attack Bladegirt in force, though our numbers would never equal the searat horde up there at the moment. Still, we will fight them and try to rid the earth of Gabool the Wild. We may not have the numbers, but we have the courage and determination."


Lord Rawnblade stood up, both paws resting on the crosshilt of his destroyer Verminfate. "I am sworn to kill Gabool. He is mine!"


Joseph touched the long knife at the back of his belt. "Then you will have to be quick, Lord Widestripe. I made an oath to slay Gabool when the house slaves told me he had drowned my Mariel with a rock and a rope tied about her neck. That oath still holds!"


Mariel leaped up, the Gullwhacker swinging wide. "First there, first served! Gabool's life is mine to take. I am Mariel Gullwhacker, I claim the right!"


Tarquin leaned over to Dandin. "What about you,


old feller?"


Dandin drew the sword slowly. "This is the blade of Martin the Warrior. No creature that is evil can stand against it, least of all Gabool!"


Tarquin and Durry held a hasty whispered conference, then they both jumped up, issuing their separate


challenges.


"This 'ere is my scraggin' dagger, an' I'm goin' to scrag that scurvy Gabool good 'n' proper. I'm on'y a young lad, but I swear it by my ol" nuncle Gabe's best October ale!"


"Well, you'll have t' scrag away pretty fast, old chap, 'cos if Joseph has got the blighter with his long knife, Milord Rawnblade has paid the rotter a visit with that


336


great log cleaver and our Mariel has been to see the scoundrel with her Gullwhacker, then along comes the bold Durry Quill with his scraggin' dagger, well, tell me this: what chance is an honest chap like meself goin' to get to brain the beggar with my jolly old harolina, wot? Listen, you lot, stop bein' so confounded greedy and let me be first to knock out a tune on the villain's noodle."


The sight of Tarquin striking a noble pose, harolina at the ready, caused the entire group to dissolve into helpless laughter.


oo


Gabool was in no mood for laughter. The maddened Searat King dashed furiously around his barred and bolted room, slashing at phantom badgers as they stole out of the shadows to confront his bloodshot eyes, shrieking and thrusting wildly at the specters created by his tormented brain.


"Haharr, I'll finish ye all. I'm Gabool the King of all Seas!"


Bongl Bongl Bongl Bong\ Bongl


He rent curtains and wallhangings; sparks showered from his sword as it clashed on the stone walls.


"Cursed noise, I'll send yer to Hellgates an' beyond!"


oo


Down below in the banqueting hall, Riptung, Hookfin and Grimtooth laughed drunkenly as they flung hard apples across the tables at the great tarnished bell in the center of the floor.


"Haharr! Listen, Yer Majesty, it's yer old matey the bell a-speakin' to yer. It wants t' know where you've hid the booty. Haharrharrharr!"


The crews joined in the laughter as they pelted the bell with apples.


Boom! Bongl Booml Bongl Booml Bongggggl


337


A pale dawn sun high above Mossflower Woods watched impassively as the otter and badger searched for the searat camp, longbows at the ready.


Flagg strained his ears for sounds of movement. "It's no good, marm. We should've asked the squirrels which way t' go."


Mother Mellus sat down upon a fallen limb and rubbed her eyes. "Perhaps you're right, Flagg. My old senses aren't what they used to be. If we don't find it soon we'll have to change direction."


The otter joined her on the limb. "Tell you what, marm. We'll take a liddle rest and then try a different path anyway. By the fur, I'm tired. Missin' a full night's sleep never did me much good, even when I was a cub. Aaaahhhh! Sit down on the grass 'ere an' put yer back against this limb awhile. There now, ain't that a little better?"


Mellus relaxed, settling her head back against the moss-covered limb. A big bumblebee droned lazily past on its quest for nectar, in the distance a songthrush warbled blithely its hymn to the coming summer day, somewhere close by a grasshopper that had strayed from the flatlands chirruped idly. The warmth of the rising sun beat steadily down upon the two weary


338


friends. As sleep stole up and took their tired senses unawares, the longbows slipped from their paws, and their eyes drooped shut.


oo


A small spider was starting to weave her web from the tip of a longbow to Flagg's nose. He twitched his snout, flicking at it drowsily with his paw as the voices intruded upon his dream.


"Somewheres around this way she was. I swear I saw 'er, matey!"


"Well, stow yer gab an' keep that spear ready. Y' can't take no chances with this scurvy rabbit. I could swear we've killed 'er three times a'ready. Tread easy nowis that 'er?"


"Where?"


"Layin' among those fern things, goggle eyes. Look, can't y'see?"


Flagg came awake, collecting his senses as he listened to the searats.


"Take no chances this time, mate. Sneak up, an' both of us in fast with the spears, hard as y'can, ten times apiece. See she doesn't jump away agin."


"Aye, did ye ever see anythin' like that leap she made out of the camp? Right over Graypatch's 'ead, an' 'er all cut t' pieces too!"


The urgency of the situation hit Flagg like a thunderbolt. Sitting up silently, he placed a paw across Mellus's mouth and shook her awake. The badger saw something in Flagg's eyes that made her go completely still. He gestured forward with his paw, whispering one word. "Searats!"


Stealthily the two friends stood up, fitting arrows to their longbows.


The two searats were standing some distance away, their backs to the hunters as they sneaked in upon a bed of fern, spears raised, ready for the kill. Flagg and Mellus drew back the shafts upon their bowstrings to


339


full stretch. The otter nodded to Mellus, and she called out in a loud gruff voice, "Ahoy there!"


The two searats turned in the direction of her voice as the arrows left the longbows with a vicious twin hiss. Both rats fell instantaneously, the sharp oak shafts standing out of their necks a half-length.


Regardless of nettle and bush, the otter and the badger crashed through the woodland into the bed of ferns. They stood aghast at the wounded, scarred, bloodstained form of Hon Rosie lying on the ground. She pulled herself up onto one paw, smiling crookedly through her ripped and battered face.


"H-hello, you ch-chaps. 'Fraid they've k-killed me . . . Wot . . . !" Collapsing back, the brave hare lay stretched among the ferns.


Mellus was down beside her, ripping up her garments, bandaging, wiping blood from Rosie's face and massaging her paws as she instructed Flagg. "Have you got a knife?"


"Yes, marmone of Friar Alder's best. Is she dead?" "No, not quite. There's a chance. Cut some poles-no, wait, use the longbows. Chop some vines, anything. We'll use our belts . . . Got to make a stretcher. Here!" She ripped off her belt and threw it to Flagg. The helpful otter took off his own. "Gotcha, marm. Leave it t' me!" He set about his task swiftly, glancing urgently back to where Mellus was busy with Rosie among the ferns. "You can't die, d'you hear me, Rosie? Wake up! If you die, I'll kill you! Oh, I'm sorry dear. Live! Live for Clary and Thyme. Live!"


oo


Rufe Brush and Oak Tom headed the party that had set out from Redwall at dawn. They were all heavily armed and determined to help Mellus and Flagg against the searats. Cutting off the path, they entered the woodlands. Tom and Treerose swung off into the foli-


340


age to scout ahead. Gabe Quill brandished a big bung mallet angrily.


"I'll searat 'em, the filthy vermints!"


Rufe turned to him. "Keep your voice down, Gabe . . . Owch! Watch where you're pokin' that lance, Burgo. Pooh! Are you chewin' wild garlic again?"


"Burr, aye, zurr. Found some o' the pesky stuff o'er yonder. Oi carnt aboid the smell tho' I dearly do luv ets taste. 'Pologies 'bout 'ee larnce, zurr."


"Chuck ee larnce aways," Foremole whispered in Burgo's ear. "You'm cudd slay emenies with thoi breath!"


"Over here, straight ahead," Oak Tom called out from a high hornbeam. "It's Mellus an' Flagg bearin' a stretcher."


The Redwallers flocked around Rosie, gabbling questions at her rescuers.


"Is she dead?"


"Coo deary, she'm bad cuttup!"


"Where did you find her, Flagg?"


"Any sign o' Clary or Thyme?"


"D'you think she'll live?"


Mellus silenced them with a growl. "Stop all this silly chattering. We must get this hare to Redwall as speedily as possible. You squirrels, will you get back to the Abbey as quickly as you can. Tell Sister Serena, Simeon, the Abbot and Sister Sage to have all their medicines ready and a room in sickbay cleared out. Right, off you go!"


The three squirrels went off through the top terraces of the woodlands like greased lightning. Ready pawys gripped the stretcher, steadying Rosie as the group broke into a fast trot.


oo


Graypatch limped badly from an arrow that had pierced his leg. He gazed around at the smashed cage, the smoldering embers of last night's fires and the carcasses of dead searats that littered the ground like fallen


leaves. They were piled in a heap in the middle of the camp. He prodded the lifeless forms with his sword. Somewhere beneath that heap lay two hares and a squirrel. The searat Captain shook his head and slumped down upon a rock.


"Three hares and a squirrel did all this?" he murmured disbelievingly.


Deadglim shambled over. He leaned on a broken spear, nursing the place where his left ear had been. "Eighteen left alive, Cap'n. Well, it would be a score, but two went after the hare that got away."


Graypatch massaged his leg, wincing. "Eighteen, is that all!"


"Aye, Cap'n. What's yer orders?"


Graypatch stared into the surrounding forest. He had come to hate Mossflower country; the whole thing had been a catalogue of disaster since they arrived. He had stolen the Darkqueen and set sail from Terramort with a crew of a hundred able-bodied searats, and now he was sitting in this landlocked hell of greenery with only eighteen left.


"Tell the crew to pack up, lock, stock 'n' barrel. We're pullin' out o' this stinkin' place. I'm goin' to find the Darkqueen, get 'er seaworthy an' sail out to the open sea, where we can breathe again!"


A slow smile formed upon Deadglim's coarse face. "Aye-aye, Cap'n Graypatch. I'll do that with pleasure,


sir!


Treerose paced the corridor outside the sickbay.


Abbot Bernard came out with a basin and a stained towel. "Ah, Treerose. See if you can get some clean warm water and a fresh towel for me, pretty one."


Treerose's voice betrayed great anxiety. "How is Rosie, Father?"


The Abbot wiped his paws on his wide sleeves, a smile creasing his kindly face. "D'you know, I didn't believe it at first, but she's going to be all right. Thanks


342


to your warning, the creatures who got her here so fast, and the marvelous skills of Simeon and Sister Sage. Yes, Treerose, she's going to be around for quite a number of seasons yet to come. So you stop that crying now and get me fresh water and a clean towel."


Mother Mellus came out to stand in the corridor with the Abbot. "What was all that about, Father?"


"Oh, nothing really. It just surprises me how overnight that young squirrel has changed from a spoilt brat into a really nice helpful creature."


Mellus patted the Abbot's frail back. "Hmm, then we must be doing something right, the way we bring our young ones up at Redwall, eh!"


The Abbot bowed gallantly. "The way you bring them up, Mellus."


Saxtus lay on his back in the strawberry patch with the Dibbuns. Bagg and Runn chattered incessantly as they decimated the latest crop of ripe fruit.


"Have all the searats gone now, Sax'us?"


"Suppose so. We haven't seen them for a while."


"An' they're not comin' back to 'ttack the Abbey again?"


"I hope not. Why d'you ask?"


"Oh nuts! I wanted 'em t' come back so I could fight 'em!"


"No you don't, little one. We've had enough fighting and killing. Isn't it much nicer lying here filling your tummy with strawberries in the sun?"


"Mm, s'pose so, but I can't get at the biggest 'n' juiciest 'n' squashiest ones."


"Why not?"


"'Cos you're lyin' on 'em. Hohohoho!"


Saxtus got up slowly, feeling the cold juice running down his back. "Well, thank you for telling me so soon!"


Grubb plonked himself down and began stuffing


343


strawberries three at a time. "Oi sees 'ee winds blowed all 'ee strawbly trees away agin."


Sister Sage was creeping from the sickbay with Simeon on tip-paw. They had done all they could with the hare's dreadful injuries; now they decided it was best that she sleep and recuperate. The hinge squeaked as Sister Sage opened the door.


Rosie opened one eye and peeked through the bandaged slit. "Never died after all, wot . . . good . . . show!"


Simeon leaned on Sister Sage's arm. "Incredible! Totally unbelievable. I've heard of cats having nine lives, but that Rosie, she's the limit!"


Sister Sage shut the door as quietly as possible. "Or the absolute bally limit, as Colonel Clary would have said."


344


37


"Do you know where we are now?"


Mariel and Rawnblade shook their heads. They were completely lost on their guided tour of the tunnels of Terramort.


Joseph pointed ahead. "Go up there careful now because it's the end of this particular tunneland you'll see a couple of gorsebushes. Just part them and tell me what you see."


As they carried out his instructions, Mariel drew in a sharp breath. "It's Fort Bladegirt, right across on the next hill!"


Joseph nodded. "I can take you to another branch of this same tunnel that brings you out on the other side of the fort, or yet another which will bring you out at the back of Bladegirt. Well, does it give you any ideas?"


"A three-pronged invasion?"


"You took the words out of my mouth, Lord Rawnblade. Anything else you'd like to see?"


"Yes, Father. I'd like to see these other two exits. I'm beginning to get a few ideas myself."


"Hmm, I thought you would. Come on then, follow me."


Down below in the main cave, Dandin, Durry and Tar-345


quin were making friends with the freed slaves of the Trag society. A young shrew and some of his companions sat questioning them. "Where do you come from?" "Redwall Abbey in Mossflower country." The youngster gazed at them with shining eyes. "Redwall Abbey, Mossflower country. Does it look as nice as it sounds?"


Tarquin strummed his harolina. "You can bet your fluffy bedsocks it does, young thingummy. Here, Dandin, give me a trill on your whistle while I tune me jolly instrument up an' I'll tell 'em all about it."


Dandin tootled away on his ancestor's flute until between them he and the hare had a rollicking air going. The Trag members tapped their paws on the rocks to the infectious music as Tarquin sang.


"On the old brown path from north to south


Is a place you'd love to stay in.


Come one, come all, to old Redwall,


And hear what I am sayin'.


There's an orchard there that's fat and fair


With apple, berry, plum and pear.


There's a pond with fish and all you'd wish


To grace a supper table dish.


They've a nice soft bed to rest your head,


Or sleep beneath the trees instead.


If you meet the Abbot then be sure to shake him by


the paw.


On the old brown path from north to south It's peaceable an' free where Our Abbey stands amid woodlands, I'm sure you'd love to be there!"


There was loud cheering, and Tarquin was requested to sing the ditty twice more. Durry leaped up and danced with a vole and a dormouse. Afterward they sat about talking. Redwall was the chief topic of discussion


346


among the freed slaves, most of whom had never known or could not remember a place they called home.


"Do you have lots of nice things to eat at Redwall?"


"My spikes y'do! Summercream woodland puddens, deeper 'n' ever pies, strawb'rry flans, blueberry scones, raspb'rry muffins, cheeses you couldn't count, an' cordials, teas, wines an' October ale that me 'n' my ol' nuncle Gabe makes in our cellars!"


"And every creature is free there, Mr. Woodsorrel?"


"Free as the air, young feller, peaceful as the flowers that grow an' happy t' wake up among friends each dawn, wot!"


"Will you take us there, Dandin? Oh, please say you will!"


Dandin held up his paws. "Of course. You have my promise on it, though Mother Mellus'll probably grab you all and bathe the lot of you on sight!"


A small hedgehog sat enraptured with every word he had heard. "Mother! You mean they have a mother there? I can't remember having a mother. D'you think she'll be my mother too?"


"What's your name, young 'un?"


"Barty. That's my sister Dorcas. She's younger than me, I think."


Durry patted their soft unformed spikes. "You can live with me an' Nuncle Gabe. I'll teach 'ee t' be cellar 'ogs."


00


When Joseph returned with Mariel and Rawnblade a full meeting was called. Freed slaves crowded into the big cavern.


Rawnblade expressed surprise at the numbers. "Quite a sizable army, Joseph. I didn't think there was so many."


The bellmaker indicated a crowd packing the ledges at the rear. "Our Trag warriors who stole three of the searat ships have brought us many oarslaves who wish to join us. All of these have been landed from the three


347


ships we captured. There must be close on a hundred new arrivals, though we are still far below in numbers compared to the searats."


Mariel stood alongside her father. "Not to worry, we've got their ships. It's the rats who are trapped on this island and not us. Besides, we'll have the advantage of cover and surprise. Lord Rawnblade, would you like to outline our plan?"


The badger took a charred stick from the fire and drew upon the rockface. "This is Fort Bladegirt. We will attack tonight when they are sleeping. These three tunnels come out into the hills both sides and behind the fort. Mariel, you and your friends will lead one-third of our force to attack from the left. Joseph my friend, you will lead the other third from the right, that way they will be under pressure from both sides. My Mariel will tell you what to do."


Mariel took over, flattered that such a warrior as the Lord of Salamandastron was consulting her judgment, recognizing in the mousemaid a fellow warrior spirit.


"Use bows and slings. Don't attempt to climb the walls into the courtyard. Stay well hidden and use the ground above the tunnel entrancesthat way we can send arrows and stones down at thembut remain silent, don't give the searats any noisy or standing targets to fire back at, and keep slinging rocks and firing arrows as hard as you can. Tarquin, once the rats are occupied in fighting us on both sides you will attack the front gates of the courtyard. Take the rest of the force with you, and make as much noise as possible. You will have a battering ram to smash away at the gates with. We will besiege them from three sides. Tarquin, your squad will be armed with spears, bows and long pikes. Got that?"


"Understood, old scout. What happens then?"


"I come from the back!" Lord Rawnblade explained. "I will pick my momentit will be when most of the searats are defending the front gate from your battering


348


ram. Outside the tunnel at the rear of the fort is a big boulder on the hillside. I will send it down the hill to smash through the rear courtyard wall. Joseph, the moment you see the boulder start to roll, bring your force down from the right to back me up. Mariel, you bring your creatures down from the left to join Wood-sorrel. I'm banking on the rats doing an about-turn and coming to face me. If the ram hasn't battered the gates down, you must prop it against them and use it as a ladder. Well, that is the plan: first they'll be attacked from the left and right, then from the front and back. Once we are inside the courtyard we can force our way into the fort itself, then it's good luck to whoever finds Gabool."


By unanimous decision the plan was voted a good one.


Joseph stood to have a final word with the occupants of the cavern. Gray-furred as he was, the bellmaker stood tall in their eyes, the suffering and indignities he had put up with etching his strong face, righteous vengeance ringing out from his voice like the sound of his own great bell.


"Hear me. This is the time I have waited for; we will rid the earth of searats for all seasons to come. No more are you slaves, you are the fighters of Trag. If victory is ours tomorrow, we have ships to sail away from this accursed island. Let us leave this place deserted, as a monument to the death and misery it has caused to creatures everywhere!"


When the wild cheering had died down, the two small hedgehogs Barty and Dorcas called out. "We're going to Redwall Abbey to live!"


Rawnblade picked them both up, one in each huge paw. "If I know the good creatures of that place . . . you're all going there!"


The cavern echoed and re-echoed to the wild applause of Trag warriors, none of them knowing what


349


the morrow would bring, but each one fervently wishing his or her desire to go and live in the fabled Redwall.


350


Graypatch and his band were lost.


They stumbled about in the vastnesses of Mossflower Woods, not knowing which direction to take next. Each place they arrived at looked the same as the spot they had started from.


Oak Tom sat high in a chestnut tree, watching them. He tested the point of his lance and shook his head. "Wouldn't leave 'em in charge of a Dibbuns' spring outin', any of 'em!"


Deadglim slumped wearily on the ground. "Belay, Cap'n, you sure you know the right course fer Darkqueen?"


Graypatch turned on him and vented his temper. "I did when we started out, but you wetnosed idiots a-wanderin' here an' yon scroungin' fer vittles have set me off course. I'm as lost as the rest o' yer, an' it's your fault, not mine!"


Dripnose threw himself down beside Lardgutt. "Yah, what's the use? I'm stayin' 'ere until somebeast finds the right way!"


Graypatch sat down with him, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Oh, you are, are yer? So be it. I am too, matey. This way nobeast'll find the Darkqueen an' we'll all sit right 'ere an' rot!"


351


Fishgill came up with a suggestion. "Cap'n, why don't we split into three groups? We could each set course a different way, mark the trees as we go an' all make our way back 'ere when somerat finds Darkqueen."


Graypatch thought about this for a moment, then stood up. "Fishgill, matey, that's the first decent idea to come out o' this load of lunkheads. Right, you take five an' go thataways. Dripnose, up on yer claws, take five an' head the other way, over there. I'll take the other five an' go straight ahead. Don't ferget an' use your blades to mark the trees, otherwise you'll be lost forever in this hellridden forest. Right, let's get goin'."


Oak Tom watched them go before leaping down to scar false routes widespread on the treebark with his lancepoint. The squirrel carefully noted the direction taken by Graypatch and his party, then set out after the five led by Deadglim. Pushing through the brambles and tripping over tree roots, Deadglim and his rats unwittingly made their course south, back the way they had come, completely lost and in their confusion taking a bumbling path toward Redwall Abbey.


"Turn round and follow Fishgill!"


Lardgutt pointed into the leafy canopy. "It's a voice from up there."


Deadglim clawed nervously at his sword. "What d'yer want from us?"


"I'm from the Abbey," the mystery voice called back to him. "We don't want you attacking us again. You're headed for Redwall if you keep on in this direction. Turn round and follow Fishgill. He's traveling in the direction of your ship Darkqueenl"


Lardgutt carried on south, calling up in a sneering voice, "Aaahh, you could be trickin' us. I think this way's the right way!"


The javelin hissed down from the branches, slaying him on the spot.


352


This time the voice was loud and menacing. "Take my word for it, fools die! There are many of us up here. Turn round and follow Fishgill, if you value my advice!"


Deadglim did a swift about-turn. "We're going, look, we're going! Leave us alone and we won't be back!"


A mocking laugh rang out through the trees. "Go then. Quickly!"


Oak Tom plucked the javelin from Lardgutt's carcass as the pounding paws of Deadglim's party receded into the distance. Before nightfall they would join Fishgill's party, in the Flitchaye territory. Oak Tom took one look back to the south, where his friends Rufe Brush and Treerose would be giving Clary and Thyme a decent burial at the deserted searat camp. Setting his jaw grimly, he took off through the woodlands on the trail of Graypatch and the remaining five.


oo


The searat Captain did not know whether to be delighted or disappointed. He stepped out of the foliage and onto the path, leading north with his companions, having traveled in a huge semicircle.


"Well, at least we're clear of all that tangle fer a while, mateys. Maybe now we can get some proper bearin's."


A rat named Stumpclaw strained his eyes northward up the path. "Ahoy, Cap'n. There's a ford up ahead. I can see the sunlight on its waters!"


Relief flooded through Graypatch's body. He sat down by the side of the path, a tear forming in his single eye.


"If it's water it'll run to the sea, mateys, an' it'll take us to Darkqueen if it's the right stream. Stumpclaw, take these buckos an' scout the lay o' the water, will yer, matey. Ole Graypatch is weary, I'll be restin' me bones 'ere awhile till you get back."


On a spruce bough not too far distant, Oak Tom sat watching.


Graypatch let the summer sun play on his face as


353


he lay back and relaxed. The stream must lead up to Darkqueen, and then down to the sea. Maybe a few more dawns would see him in command of his own ship once more, running south before the breeze, away from Mossflower and the seas where Gabool's vessels hunted.


Sleep was just about to embrace Graypatch when loud screams rent the still air. Silently Oak Tom trailed him as he made his way cautiously to the ford. Using the trees to the side of the path as cover, Graypatch sneaked up to within a short distance of the water.


Iraktaan stood over the carcass of Stumpclaw, his vicious beak dripping red. "Iraktaan kill. Kraaaaak!"


Behind him in the swift-running weed-streaked waters of the ford, the bodies of the three who had made it to the water bounced and bobbed in a grotesque parody of life, though it was only the ripping jaws of the pike shoal which moved them.


Graypatch cut east into the woodlands, avoiding the killer heron and following the course of the stream, voicing his thoughts aloud as he went.


"I'll find the Darkqueen, sure as eggs is eggs. Foller the streamthat's all ye do, matey, foller the stream. Haharr, I'll sit aboard me ol' ship an' wait fer the others. No chance Graypatch is goin' t' get lost amid all that forest agin. No sir!"


As the sun grew hotter Graypatch knelt to drink from the stream. He sucked long and noisily, feeling the cool flow of fresh water crossing his chin. Suddenly lifting his face clear of the stream, the searat Captain felt his neck hairs rising. Without turning he knew there was somebeast behind him. A vague blur showed on the surface of the swift-running water, masking the stranger's identity.


Instinctively the searat's claw reached for his sword. "Who are yer?"


The stranger's voice was as cold as north wind on


354


wet stones. "My name would mean nothing to you, rat!"


Graypatch played for time, slowly inching the sword from his belt. "What d'ye want with me, then? I mean yer no harm."


A blow from a lance butt sent him sprawling into the stream. He stood up in the shallows, spluttering. His face was a mask of vengeance. Oak Tom stood on the bank, lance held loose but ready.


"The time for your reckoning is due, searat. Now you must pay for the lives of two hares. Tell me, how does it feel, standing there without your crew to protect you?"


Graypatch swallowed hard, his own voice sounding squeaky in his ears. "Leave me alone, I only want ter get out o' here. Let me go and I won't bother ye anymore. I just want t' get to the sea!"


Oak Tom raised the lance. "Then you shall go to the sea!"


Graypatch had his sword free now, but the squirrel's face was so full of vengeance and rage that the searat's natural boldness and cunning deserted him completely. The sword fell from his nerveless claws into the water as he turned and ran with the flowing stream.


oo


It was fully three days later that Graypatch made it to the sea, floating faceup with Oak Tom's lance standing out from his corpse like a mast with no sail. The two gallant hares of the long patrol had been avenged and Redwall Abbey was freed of further trouble. All with one swiftly thrown lance.


oo


Two hours after dawn next day, set up by a full Redwall breakfast, the creatures of the Abbey began to set their home right again. Fire damage was repaired, crops and orchard tended back to their former fruitfulness, the pond was weeded and cleared of charred fire-swingers,


355


and the main gate had a team attending to it, armed with carpenter's tools and headed by Saxtus.


"Brother Hubert, Cockleburr, lend a paw with this new timber, please. Baby Grubb, I won't tell you again; put that hammer down."


"Burr, oi wants t' nokken 'ee nailers in, Sax'us."


"Well you can't, you're too small. Ah, Foremole, will you and your crew start sawing herethis part where the bottom of the gate is heavily charred. That's it, about there!"


"Yurr, Burgo, Drubber, do 'ee 'old gate still whoile oi saws."


Saxtus picked up some large clout nails. "Baby Grubb, drop that hammer. This instant!"


"Gurr, go boil yurr 'ead, bossy ol' Sax'us!"


"Owowowooch! Come here, you little ruffian!"


Grubb hid behind Sister Sage, who was pushing Hon Rosie's wheelchair. Saxtus hopped about, clenching his paw.


Sister Sage remonstrated with Grubb. "That was a very naughty thing to do, Dibbun."


"Arr, but maister Sax'us tol' oi t' drop 'ee 'ammer."


"Maybe he did. Still, it was no excuse for dropping it on his footpaw."


"Hurr, may'aps it weren't, tho' 'ee do darnce noicely, doant 'ee?"


Hon Rosie held her ribs and winced as she chuckled. "Whoohahahooh! You're an absolute savage, young Grubb!"


Grubb climbed onto the chair and sat upon Rosie's lap. "Yurr, Sax'us daresn't get oi naow, miz Rose."


oo


Simeon felt the smooth grain of the newly planked oak. He pressed his nose against it and breathed in deeply. "That will make a stout door. Pity it loses its fragrance with the seasons and the weather, Bernard."


The Abbot led him away to the shade of the threshold


356


wallsteps. "I feel that everything is going to be all right now, Simeon."


"Good, your senses are improving, my friend. I too can sense something."


"Oh, something I've missed? It's not that mole Burgo and his wild garlic again, is it?"


"Haha, no. I sense that we should do something about continuing construction on our bell tower. I've been meaning to tell you, I had a wonderful dream last night."


"Sshh!" the Abbot interrupted. "Don't mention Dandin or the others. Here comes Mellus. She looks in a happy mood this morninglet's try and keep her that way. Good morning, Mellus. Another beautiful day."


The badger nodded. "It was, until I spotted those two wretches over there. Bagg and Runnlook at them, covered from nose to tail with green gatehouse paint. I'll scrub the hides off the pair o' them!"


She took off at a trot, chasing the two green perils of Red wall.


"Sometimes I think she's only happy when she's got dirty Dibbuns to hurl into bathtubs!" Simeon whispered in the Abbot's ear.


357


39


Late the previous night six searats had been posted on guard duty by Captain RiptungFelltooth and the rats who had swum out in vain pursuit of the Waveblade. Felltooth was not the most popular searat at Bladegirt, a fact that his mates kept reminding him of.


"Please sir, Cap'n sir, can I swim out an' bring that naughty ship back? Yer great turnipbrain, there was no chance o' catchin' Waveblade an' you knowed it."


Felltooth defended his unsuccessful action indignantly. "Ah, sharrap! I was tryin' t' get that craft back fer the likes of you 'n' me, matey. Don't yer realize, we're marooned on Terramort now!"


"Aye, well nex' time let some other dopes do the swimmin' an' you keep yer trap shut, cabingob. Ideas an' decisions is fer Cap'nsthat's why they're Cap'ns, see!"


The crack of the rock was audible in the darkness as it struck the speaker. He dropped without a sound. Felltooth leaned over him.


'"Ere, are you all right matey? Yaaaagh!"


An arrow had gone right through Felltooth's ear. He straightened up and ran for the fort, screaming aloud, "Attack! Attaaaaaack!"


Still half-asleep, the searat horde were rousted out


358


by Hookfin, Riptung and Grimtooth. They hurried into


the courtyard surrounding Bladegirt, snatching


weapons as they went.


"Stir yer stumps, y'dozy layabouts. We're under


attack!"


"Come on, out there, every ratjack of ye. Move!" "Pick up those weapons. Never mind yer fancy


clothesyer goin' to a fight not a dance!"


00


High in the rocks Dandin and Mariel drew back their bows, glancing along the line of Trag warriors as they drew bowstrings tight in unison. Durry Quill nodded. "Now!"


The arrows zipped off like a flight of angry wasps, straight down into the teeming courtyard, where even despite the night they could not miss among the large numbers of milling rats. As the archers dropped down to fit more shafts to their bows, a line of warriors behind them stood up whirling slings. Again Durry nodded. "Now!"


The rocks hurtled down, chunking into the searats below.


oo


From a lower floor window Gabool the Wild grabbed hold of a passing searat, hauling him in bodily over the sill.


"What in the name of Hellfangs is a-goin' on out there?"


"Majesty, we're bein' attacked!"


"I can see that, idiot! Who is it doin' the attackin'?"


"Sire, I don't know, but we're bein' cut down by arrows an' rocks from both sides, left an' right!"


Gabool hauled the unfortunate off with him toward the banqueting hall. "It's the badgerI know it is. You stay outside the door an' sing out t' me as soon as y'see the badger. Hear?"


The terrified searat nodded dumbly, though no sooner had Gabool gone into the banqueting hall and


359


w


slammed the door than the young searat sneaked off back to the courtyard, where a hard-slung rock put an


end to all his fears.


oo


On the far hill Joseph was marshaling his troops to snipe from two different directions of the hillside, causing great confusion among the searats. They would turn to fire their bows in one direction, only to be hit from behind as they did.


Riptung ran up and down the courtyard in the dark, laying about with the flat of his sword as he yelled out, "Up there in the hills to yer left, dolts. Can't yer tell by the way those arrows W stones are comin' in? 'Ere, gimme that bow, you!" He snatched the bow and arrow from a bewildered rat. Pulling the shaft taut on the bow, he held it as a row of archers ducked down. Riptung let the arrow fly as the slingbeasts stood up, and was rewarded with a faint cry from high on the hillside.


"See, that's the way to get 'em! Now get down behind the wall and use yer tiny brains. Up an' down! Quick like, same's they're doin' to us. There ain't that many of 'em, judgin' by their volleys."


Gradually the three Captains got the searats into some semblance of fighting crews, using all their cunning in reply to the surprise invasion.


Dandin caught a stray searat who had moved out of the wall cover. He glanced anxiously at Mariel. "Where's Tarquin got to?"


As if in reply a cry rang out from below. "Eulal-iaaaaa!"


Whump\ . . . Bump\ . . . Thud\


The battering ram had begun its work on the front gates. Tarquin had his forces screaming and yelling as they charged with the ram.


"Trag! Trag! Trag! Eulaliaaaa! Trag! Trag! Trag!"


The massive treetrunk, still matted with earth and


360


grass, pounded its blunt head against the quivering timbers of the gates.


Grimtooth dashed around to Riptung. "They're smashin' the gates in, matey! Take your force from this side an' stand 'em off. I'll get Hookfin to do the same!"


Soon the searats were massed halfway between the fort building and the gates. They fired arrows upward in a curving arc. The shafts fell on the ram crew, slaying several with their first volley. Tarquin ordered his archers to return fire. "Give 'em blood an' vinegar, chaps. Fire!"


Gabool could see only the sea and the rocks below from the big banqueting hall window, but he darted around the slit windows on the other walls, the noise of battle ringing in his ears as he peered out at the dark shapes scurrying below. Dashing to the slit window on the far side, he stared out at the back hillside in horror. The badger had emerged from somewhere high upon the hill and stood there like some giant out of the worst nightmare, framed against the night sky, battlesword stuck in the ground beside him, clad in warhelm and breastplate.


Gabool stood framed in the big window, screaming threats and challenging the enemy who had haunted his waking dreams so long. But Rawnblade was only concerned with the task of the moment. Setting his paws against the vast boulder, he sucked air into his lungs, feeling his mighty chest swell against the metal breastplate. He pitted his weight and strength against the monolithic ball of rock; it budged slightly, then settled back. This time the badger threw his back against it, digging his blunt claws and wide footpads hard into the earth. He crouched and grunted with exertion as sweat trickled across his striped head, forcing his bulk into the boulder. This time it moved out of its depression in the stony soil. Feeling the mass move, Rawnblade attacked it with primeval ferocity.


361


Roaring and bellowing, he hurled all his weight into the side of the formidable stone, sinew and muscle bunched as flesh hit rock. The boulder began to trundle away like some dread juggernaut, slowly at first, then gathering speed on the sloping hillside. Lord Rawnblade seized his battlesword. Throwing back his head he howled the war cry of Salamandastron to the night sky.


"Eulaliaaaaaa!"


The boulder crashed through the hill gorse, spinning and bouncing, a mighty stone ball of destruction, with the badger Lord charging in its wake. With a thunderous rumble it smashed through the wall, sending an explosion of sharded masonry high in the air. Either side of it sections of wall fell like wheat before a scythe. Several rats guarding the back wall stood paralyzed with fright as Rawnblade came bounding through the dustcloud in the shattered breach, followed by Joseph the Bellmaker and a chanting mass of Trag warriors.


"Trag! Trag! Trag! Redwaaaaalll!"


The rats at the main gates stopped shooting arrows. They turned to see what was happening at the back wall.


Riptung dashed through them. "Come on, they've burst through the walls back there!"


Reluctantly the searat archers turned to face the latest peril, Hookfin and Grimtooth shoving and pushing them toward the foe.


"Push 'em back, or we're done for, mates!"


"There ain't that many of 'em, we've got 'em outnumbered, buckos. Charge!"


Spurred on by desperation, the rats clashed with their attackers. Steel clashed against steel as both sides met like two waves crashing together. The bigger, more powerful searats in their barbaric finery did not intimidate the young Trag fighters, who threw themselves upon their hated oppressors with insane ferocity, hacking and cleaving as the melee swayed back and forth;


362


but the rats were experienced skirmishers, each searat and his mate taking one Trag warrior between them, slashing and stabbing from back to front. Soon it became evident that Joseph's force would be routed, without reinforcements.


Rawnblade was fighting his own fight. The Blood-wrath had come upon him, his one aim was to get inside Bladegirt to find Gabool. Oblivious of Trag difficulties, he fought his way toward the fort, seeing nothing through the fiery red mist that engulfed his eyes but the building which contained his sworn enemy. Searats flew before the blade of Verminfate like butterflies caught in a gale.


oo


Outside the main gates they heard the noise as the back wall was broken by the boulder. Within moments the searat arrows stopped raining over upon them. Mariel, Tarquin, Dandin and Durry lifted their heads and listened. The pounding of receding paws and the shouts that followed told them the battle was being joined inside.


Durry did a little dance of impatience. "Use the ram as a ladder. Quick, quick!"


Mariel weighed up and cracked and splintered gates. "No, there's twice as many of us now. Let's see what we can do against these gates. Right, Tarquin!"


"All paws now, every Tragjack of you, grab the ram. One, two, hup!" the hare roared out in his best parade ground voice.


Rank upon rank of willing paws gripped the battering ram, lifting it high above their heads with a rush of strength and energy. Tarquin shouted out commands from the front.


"Righto, chaps. Back up. Back, back, backa bit more! Come on, you lot on the end, stop bunchin' together and back up. We need a good long run to gain momentum, wot! That's it, laddie buck. Back, back . . . Ah, that's more like it. Halt!"


363


Mariel stood with Dandin and Durry at the front of the ram, gazing down the long run toward the gates. Tarquin joined them, throwing his shoulder under the log and lifting it high.


"Listen up now, chaps. When I give the word, altogether, fast as y'can. Ready . . . Chaaaaaarge!"


Dust pounded and flew from under the thundering paws. Eyes wide and mouths agape, screaming and yelling bloodcurdling cries, the army of rammers with the log swaying madly above their heads tore onward to the gates in one single mad rush.


Whakkarraboom!!!


There was no sound of splintering timber, just a tremendous whump\ Door, timbers, locks, bars and bolts, even the two impressive stone gateposts, were knocked flat as if hit by a thunderbolt. Carried on in the momentum of the heroic charge, the rammers clattered across the fallen gates and over the courtyard, the battering ram still held high.


Swept on in the rush, with the blood singing through his eardrums like a high-pitched siren, Durry Quill yelled aloud, "Eeyahoooo!"


The battering ram hit the rear of the searat hordes, scattering them like ninepins. Over the clamor of battle Joseph laughed in relief. The reinforcements had arrived in a spectacular manner.


oo


Riptung knew the tide had turned. He strove madly to group a fighting force about him, but the searats ignored his cries, each fighting with the strength of despair. The searat Captain whirled his curved sword with long-born expertise, taking out a vole and a field-mouse, only to find himself confronted by Dandin. The blade of Martin the Warrior flashed in the young mouse's paws as he closed in to attack. Riptung parried, frantically backing to get creatures between himself and the cold-eyed swordsmouse. The searat tried every move and trick he knew, but his assailant kept coming


364


on, battering the curved corsair sword aside ferociously until he had Riptung backed up to the wall. Above the clash of battle Riptung swung his sword high for a downward slash, screeching in Dandin's face, "You'll never take me alive!"


Dandin slew him with a strong upward swing. "I don't want you alive, rat!"


Hookfin saw that the battle was lost. He sneaked away before the total rout of all the searats, skirting the edges of the fray until he found the section of the back wall that the boulder had smashed through. Without a backward glance he slipped out onto the hillside, with a sigh of relief that died upon his lips. Sitting in front of him on a rock was the impassive vole Tan Loc. Hookfin froze. Drawing his long sword, Tan Loc whetted it against the rock, speaking in a flat voice without even looking at Hookfin. "I've been waiting for you."


oo


Back at the battle, Joseph found himself fighting for his life. A searat was choking him from behind as Grim-tooth swung his cutlass in front. The bellmaker parried each thrust as he fought to shake off the rat, who clung behind him like a leech. Grimtooth slashed furiously, knowing the death of a leader might turn the tide of battle back in favor of the searats. He smiled grimly as the gray-haired mouse began to weaken, and closed in for the kill.


"Redwaaalll!"


Mariel leaped off the back of a falling rat, swinging her Gullwhacker. Grimtooth turned. Catching the full force of the blow between his eyes, he dropped like a log. Durry Quill took the strangler from behind with a rock from the wall debris.


Tarquin fought his way through to them, a broken lance clutched in his paws.


"One more good sally an' they're finished, chaps, I say, wot!" He turned this way and that, bobbing up


365


and down. "Where's me old boss got to? Anybeast seen Lord Rawnblade?"


Mariel struck off into the melee. "No. Come on, let's find him!"


They were joined by Dandin as they dodged around skirmishing groups.


The steps up to Fort Bladegirt were littered with dead searats. Durry picked his way between them, pointing with his dagger at the big oak door, which had been hacked almost to splinters and hung crazily on one hinge.


"Ha! Betcher Rawnblade did this wi' that great tree-chopper o' his."


Mariel strode past Durry into the building. "We'll see who gets Gabool!"


366


Saxtus gazed out from the ramparts of Red wall. The sun cast cloud shadows onto the path and across the greenery of the woodlands; fleecy clouds scudded across the sky on a warm breeze. The days of summer season were numbered now.


Simeon joined him, his paws feeling along the battlements until he came in contact with Saxtus. "The autumn will arrive soon, Saxtus." "How did you know what I was thinking, Brother?" Simeon chuckled and patted Saxtus's paw. "I didn't, it was just an educated guess. Creatures often think I have wondrous powers, but it's just experience and observation. Though I do sense that you have more reason than the change of seasons for standing up here. It comes to me that you are watching the road. Would I be wrong in supposing that you are awaiting the return of certain friends?"


Saxtus searched the blind herbalist's wise old face. "You are right, of course, but it doesn't take a genius to know that. Dandin and Durry were my best friends Mariel too, for the short time she was with us. I had a dream, you see, the night before last. It was of a great battle, I saw them fighting with searats, like the crew


367


who attacked our Abbey, but there were many many more than that."


"Was it through Martin the Warrior that this dream came?"


"Ah, now you do surprise me. What makes you say that, Simeon?"


"Oh, we are old friends, the spirit of the Abbey and I. Martin has visited me more than once in the land of sleep. You must always heed his warnings. What did you see of this battle?"


"It was not very clear. I saw an old gray mouse, quite a big fellow. He was being attacked by two searats. I cried out in my dream for Martin to help him. Mariel and Durry Quill rescued him. There was lots of fighting, a great battle things weren't very clear though, and it all faded after a while, Martin too."


"I say, yoohoo! You two up there, what's the matter? Don't you want to try my seedcake?"


It was Hon Rosie waving from her wheelchair. Friar Alder and Cockleburr were pushing it, both their faces pictures of strained patience.


"We'll talk about this another time," Simeon whispered to Saxtus. Turning in the direction of the wheel-chair, he waved. "Seedcake, did you say? I used to be a fair cook at making that myself. Hold on, we'll come down and try some. Give me your paw, Saxtus."


00


Lunch was being served in Great Hall. As they entered, Mellus nudged Foremole, murmuring in a low voice, "Here's another two victims being brought in to sample the dreaded seedcake. What Rosie made it with I don't know."


"Burr, you'm can say that agin. Oi near broken moi diggen claws just picken up a sloice, marm."


Rosie leaned from her chair, scanning the table. "I say, where's me jolly old seedcake gone? You haven't scoffed it all, have you? Well, that's the bally limit. I suppose I'll have to bake another."


368


"Er, no seeds left, marm," Friar Alder interrupted swiftly.


Cockleburr tugged the Friar's sleeve. "Perishin' pud-dens, Friar. There's a great box of seeds at the back of the floursacks, I found it meself this m Oof!"


Alder elbowed his assistant sharply in the stomach and carried on smoothly. "Oh, those seeds, you mean. They've got damp and were beginning to sprout, I was meaning to leave them out for the birds. Oh dear, not a single seed in the kitchens or the storerooms. What a shame!"


Underneath the table, Grubb and Bagg were using the remains of the seedcake as building blocks. "We'll have to get miz Rosie more seeds if we wanna make a model of the Abbey," Bagg grumbled as he looked about for more.


"Hurrhurr, Froir Alder'11 scrangle 'ee iffen you'm mention et."


"I s'pose so. I heard 'im say to the Habbit that he hopes miz RosieTl get better afore she kills us all wi' seedcakes."


oo


Saxtus wandered through to watch some creatures working on the great Abbey tapestry. Brother Hubert was supervising the design from sketches he had found in the gatehouse. He tossed a hank of light brown thread to Sister Serena.


"This color should suit if you're starting the face of the Warrior."


Saxtus sorted a thread out of a slightly darker tone. "Excuse me, Brother, but I think this shade is the correct one."


Hubert held it up to the light, inspecting it carefully. "Hmm, you could be right, Saxtus, but how do you know that this is the color of Martin's face?"


"I sort of sensed it."


oo Lord Rawnblade Widestripe strode through the


369


entrance hall of Fort Bladegirt, the sword Verminfate sending out showers of sparks as he clashed it against the stone columns leading to the main stairway.


"Gabool, it is I, Rawnblade the badger. Show yourself!"


The rumble of the badger Lord's challenge echoed back at him from empty chambers and deserted corridors as he mounted the stairs, his keen dark eyes searching everywhere. Rawnblade sniffed, but the odor of searat permeated the air throughout and he could not distinguish the scent of his enemy. Kicking aside the debris of cast-off clothing, useless weaponry and stale food the rats had left behind, he ascended the wide stone stairs.


oo


Heedless of whether the rats had won or lost the battle, Gabool listened to the sounds of the badger ringing through his fort as he nerved himself up for the confrontation he knew would inevitably come. Gripping both sword and dagger, the Searat King ranged about his upper chamber, holding a muttered conference with himself.


"Hahaar, I'll sleep tonight. Once I'm rid of the badger, I'll destroy that useless bell. Aye, that's it! Kill the badger an' roll the bell off the high cliffs inter the sea. What'll be left to worry me then? I've seen 'em all offGraypatch, Saltar, Bludrigg. Look out, badger. You're next, an' the bell to follow yer! Then they'll see who's the Ruler of Terramortme, Gabool, King of Searats. I'll build a new fleet, each craft bigger an' faster than Darkqueen. They'll scour the coasts for slaves, fine silks, wine an' the best of prime vittles. Haharr, Gabool won't need no bell to announce hisself; they'll know who I am wherever they see my ships hove in an' hear me name."


"Gabool, you spawn of Hell, where are you?"


The deep thunder of Rawnblade's voice vibrated


370


upward from the banqueting hall. Gabool pressed an ear to his room door.


"Keep searchin', badger. I'll lead you a merry dance before I'm done with yer. Gabool ain't feared of a stripe-dog no more. Oh no, matey!"


oo


Rawnblade stood before the great bell. It was exactly as he had imagined it. Only a bellmaker with the skills of Joseph could create such a wonder. His hefty paw stroked the stained and discolored surface of the brazen object as he walked around it, reading the mysterious badger hieroglyphics near the belltop, smiling with satisfaction at the message only a badger Lord could interpret.


"That is yet to come. . . . But meanwhile!"


Rawnblade smashed a wooden stool with one blow of his sword. Picking up a severed stool leg, he began belaboring the bell.


Bongboo m bo ngaboombo ngbong!


As he struck the bell, Rawnblade breathed upon a section of the metal and rubbed it clean. He continued to smite the great bell, harder and louder.


Boombongboomboombongbooooongggg!


Peering at the polished section, the badger watched Gabool enter the banqueting hall and begin creeping up on him, sword raised to strike. Rawnblade stopped beating the bell and turned slowly.


"So, you like my music, eh, rat?"


Gabool leaped forward, his sword flashing down like lightning. Rawnblade swung his battlesword sideways, the power of the sweep knocking Gabool's blade flying; it clattered into a corner. The searat stood helpless, his paws deadened by the numbing force of the blow. Rawnblade nodded to the curved sword lying on the floor. "Pick it up and have a proper try!"


Mariel came dashing into the banqueting hall with Jospeh, Tarquin, Dandin and Durry. The mousemaid


swung her Gullwhacker, shouting, "Stand and fight, rat!"


Gabool cackled harshly. "The bellmaker's brat, eh? Go away, mouse. I've killed you once. You're naught but a ghost!"


Mariel's jaw tightened as the Gullwhacker whirled above her head. "You're wrong, seascum. I'm no ghost! I beat you once and I'm going to do it again, this time for good!"


From the corner of her eye Mariel saw the badger Lord move to attack.


"Gabool's mine, Rawnblade!"


The badger turned his head in her direction. As he did, Gabool plunged the dagger into his chest and sped through a door on the other side of the room. As the door slammed they ran to the badger Lord. He was standing straight, with the dagger protruding. Before anybeast could speak, Rawnblade pulled the dagger out and tossed it aside.


"Nearly grazed my fur when it pierced the breastplatenot bad steel for a searat dagger!"


Tarquin was tugging and shoving at the door. "Blighter's locked it!"


"Out of the way, Woodsorrel. Hurry!" Tarquin barely had time to leap aside as a stroke from Verminfate split the door in two halves. Lord Rawnblade kicked them flat.


"Don't interrupt me next time, mousemaid!"


The stairs in front of them spiraled downward. Keeping one paw against the side wall, they hurried around


the dizzying curves.


oo


Gabool slammed the door closed and barred it. Chuckling to himself, he moved an old carpet from a corner of the room and spread it over the hole in the floor. Standing on the far side of it, he went into a crouch, claws stretching forward. Soon he heard his pursuers arriving. There was a rending crash and the door swung


372


lopsidedly on a single hinge. Rawnblade thrust it aside as he stepped into the room, brandishing his sword. He glanced about at the bare walls.


"The running's over, rat. There's nowhere for you to


g-"


"Aye, so 'tis." Gabool sneered. "You're well backed


up by your friends and fully armed too. I thought badgers were true warriors. Why don't yer throw down that great doorcleaver an' meet me in paw t' claw combat, searat fashion. Or are yer just a great cowardly stripedog?"


The red mists of Bloodwrath clouded Lord Rawn-blade's eyes as he flung his sword aside and came at Gabool with a mighty roar.


"Eulaliaaaa!"


For an instant Gabool's blood froze within him at the sight of the huge badger charging forward. Then Rawnblade stood on the carpet. He plunged down into the hole with a sharp bark of alarm, falling flat on his back at the bottom of the pit. There was a scuttling noise and Rawnblade shouted aloud, "Stay away!"


Mariel and her companions hesitated in the doorway.


The massive black scorpion rattled out at breathtaking speed. It was on Rawnblade before he could move. His eyes went wide with horror at the sight of the loathesome beast perched on his breastplate. Clicking claws held menacingly wide, it began to bring the venomous barbed sting on its tail up over its back to strike at the badger's unprotected face.


Suddenly some unseen force galvanized Rawnblade into instant action. His paw shot up, grabbing the scorpion by the curve of its tail, and with a mighty bellow he jumped upright. Whirling the evil creature around, he flung it swiftly from the pit. The black scorpion shot up at an angle, striking the ceiling and dropping downstraight into the face of Gabool the Wild.


From the doorway they watched in horrified fascination as the searat leaped frenziedly about the room,


373


feebly struggling with the angry creature locked onto his throat with both claws. It covered his face, muffling the gurgled screams as the lethal tail sent its hooked sting slamming over the top of his head into the base of the skull, whipping back and forth as it stabbed in a maddened frenzy.


Rawnblade heaved himself out of the pit in time to see Gabool fall to the floor, his limbs twitching spasmodically as poison flooded through his crazed brain. The King of the Searats shuddered one last time and died, his body arched back like a straining bow.


Dandin rushed into the room as the scorpion turned its attention to Lord Rawnblade. The young mouse swung the sword of Martin the Warrior.


Once! Twice! Thrice!


The two halves of the terrible creature toppled awkwardly back into its pit, still clicking and striking with its poisonous tailsting.


Rawnblade shuddered. He rubbed his paws together vigorously, as if trying to cleanse himself of the scorpion's touch.


Tarquin addressed his harolina consolingly. "Well, me old twanger, you never got to brain Gabool, after all. Matter o' fact, none of us did. What a shameful waste of such jolly good weapons!"


Joseph put a paw around his daughter's shoulders. "Evil destroyed evil, and good triumphed. Come on, Mariel. Let us leave Terramort. The nightmare is over."


Mariel hugged her father fondly. "Let's go to


Redwall!"


oo


Four ships lay ready to sail from the cove at Terramort. Captain Durry Quill stood at the helm of Waveblade, renamed Gabriel after his favorite "nuncle." Captain Tarquin L. Woodsorrel now commanded the Hon Rosie, formerly the Blacksail. Captain Dandin rested his paw on the tiller of Nightwake, renamed the Abbot Bernard. The Crabdaw had been restored to her former name,


374


Periwinkle, at the wish of her new Captain, Joseph the Bellmaker. He stood proudly with Mariel and Rawnblade on her swaying deck, watching the crew of former oarslaves tying down the final lashings of the great bell. Above them a huge hole gaped in the seaward side of Fort Bladegirt, where the bell had been lowered to the Periwinkle's deck. Dark smoke curled from the breach in the fort as Rawnblade nodded his head in satisfaction.


"I've never used fire on anything in my life, but I was glad to put the torch to that evil building. It will never burn away its memory, but maybe someday in the seasons to come the wind and rains from the seas will scour its blackened stones clean."


Joseph patted the deckrail. "Good old Periwinkle. Remember when we first set sail in her, Mariel? Now we can complete that voyage and deliver Lord Rawn-blade's bell to Salamandastron, where it belongs."


But the badger Lord had other ideas. "No, friend Joseph, this bell must go to Redwall Abbey, and I will tell you the reason why. When I was down that pit with the scorpion on me I was in the grip of Bloodwrath and did not know what was going on. The creature would have killed me. However, I was saved by Martin the Warrior. It was his spirit that entered me and enabled me to act so quickly. He saved my life, so I must repay him."


Dandin touched the hilt of the sword. "Good old Martin! So it was he wrho really slew Gaboolor was it him through you, sir, or was it just a bad-tempered scorpion? We'll never know. What do you say, Mariel?"


"I say, here, take this little swallow and hang it where my father can see it. Give me your sword. You won't need it for a moment."


Armed with the sword of Martin the Warrior, the mousemaid stood high on the bowsprit and shouted her orders to the little fleet.


"Hoist anchors and set all sails! There's a running


375


tide and fair wind to take us to the shores of Mossflower country and Redwall!"


The great bell gave out a mighty boom as Rawnblade struck it. The sound echoed around the headlands, mingled with the joyful cheers from hundreds of free creatures as the breeze filled the sails and carried the four vessels out onto the seas in golden summer sun-light.


376


The seasons turned and autumn arrived in due course. Though Saxtus and his friend Simeon kept up their vigil on the ramparts of Redwall, there was still no sign of the returning travelers. The Abbey orchard was now in burgeoning fruitfulness, and each day the crop gatherers were busy with ladders, long poles and industrious energy as they picked and basketed the plums, apples, damsons, pears and berries of many different varieties. The kitchens were working at full capacity, cooking, preserving and storing the fruits. Gabriel Quill's cellar was also a hive of activity; cordials, wines, squashes and October ale were being squeezed, brewed and fermented. The days of autumn continued fine and warm, though darkness started to draw in earlier. Peace and plenty had returned to the Abbey; every creature was happy.


Well, nearly every creature . . .


The three little Dibbuns, Bagg, Runn and Grubb, were totally dissatisfied with their lot and feeling highly mutinous. Two, three, sometimes even four scrubbings a day were commonplace for them during harvesttime. They had been caught in different color changes by Mother Mellus and the good Sisters who cared for them, purple from blackberries, crimson from redcur-


377


rants, yellow from greengages, green from gooseberries and generally filthy from climbing trees, falling into bushes, being covered in dust from the cellars, or appearing coated in oven grime and ashes from the kitchen ovens.


Besides being sent to bed early for cheeking some venerable Abbey dwellers, the three miscreants were now being instructed in sewing by Brother Hubert, so that they could repair their own ripped clothing. Hubert had also hinted darkly that they would soon be attending gatehouse school and Abbey history study.


This news was the final clincher, being met with awful scowls and rebellious mutterings, and culminating in the terrible trio swearing a deathly oath underneath a dormitory bed, where they were hiding from their latest misdeeds. They were leaving the Abbey the very next morning to seek their fortunes far afield, or as Grubb succinctly put it, "Sumplace where gurt beasties doant keep scrubben an' barthen us'ns!"


Dawn came soft and misty with warm sunlight, turning the low-lying shrouds of mist from white to pale yellow. The three Dibbuns let themselves out by the north wallgate and trundled up that path, rustling the carpet of brown leaves brought down by autumnal night winds. Each of them had a kerchief bulging with food swinging from a stick across his shoulder, and their mood was decidedly carefree as they strode out with a will.


"Wait'11 ol' Ma Mell's finds us'ns are gone. I bet she shakes 'er head an' says 'oh dearie me' a lot then, eh?"


"Heeheehee, she won't 'ave nobeast to chuck inna tub an' scrub no more."


"Hurr, oi 'spect she'll scrub Gab'1 an' Froir an' the Habbit. Serve 'em roight!"


"An' we'll be far, far 'way an' all mucky f'rever. Hahahaha!"


"An we won't go t' bed no more an' learn hist'ry off Bruvver Hoobit."


378


"Burr aye, an' woant they all be a-cryen fer us. Boohoohoo, 'ee'll say, whurr be all they luwerly Dibbuns a-gone?"


"Aaahhhh, will they? Never mind, we'll come back when us'ns are big 'uns, eh?"


"Oh aye, an' we'll spank 'em all an baff'em an scoff every thin'!"


"Hurrhurr, that'll teach 'em a lessing!"


oo


Late breakfast turned into early lunch as they sat at the side of the path, telling each other what tyrants they would be when they returned to the Abbey fully grown. Suddenly Runn squeaked with fright. The three Dibbuns sat petrified at the sight of a giant armored badger who had strolled up out of the mists.


With a strange light in his dark eyes, he swung his massive sword high and placed it into the carrier straps on his back. The badger knelt down, bringing his wide-striped head close to their terrifed faces. His voice was growling, deep, but gentle as he could make it.


"Well well, what have we here, three marauders lying in wait for poor honest travelers?"


"U-u-us'ns be oanly Dibbuns, zurr."


"Dibbuns, eh? A likely story. You look more like bloodthirsty rogues to me. All right then, supposing you are Dibbuns, where are you from?"


Bagg found his tongue. "Please sir, Redwall Habbey, sir!"


Rawnblade lifted them carefully in his hefty battle-scarred paws. "Redwall HabbeyI think I may know that place. You'd better come with me. I'll soon find out if you're telling me the truth."


oo


The badger made his way through the hordes of Trag warriors eating breakfast at the side of the path. He halted by a wide flat wooden cart with a great bell upon it. The three Dibbuns sat gazing at their reflections in the burnished metal surface of the bell as they perched


379


upon Rawnblade's paws, their legs swinging over the big blunt claws. Lord Rawnblade lowered them toward Dandin and Durry, winking at the two friends as he did.


"I've just captured these three searat Captains. They were waiting down the way apiece, probably to ambush us and steal our bell."


Dandin and Durry played along with the badger.


"It's as well you did. They look like born killers to me."


"Aye, these searats are all the same, y'know."


Grubb tried reasoning with his captors. "Oh gurra-way, oi'm a moler an' they be two hotterfolk. You'm be Dan'in an' maister Quill, oi knows 'ee!"


Rawnblade burst out laughing. "Hohoho! Well said! We'll take you back to Redwall with us."


Bagg held a paw to his snout, confidentially whispering to Rawnblade, "I wouldn't if I was you. Ma Mell's will chuck you all inna tub an' scrub you sumfink awful!"


00


The orchard workers had halted for a midmorning break and jugs of cider and slices of plumcake were passed around.


Mother Mellus searched around the berry bushes worriedly. "Anybeast here seen three Dibbuns, Bagg, Runn and Grubb?"


Saxtus stood up helpfully. "Do you want me to go and look for them?"


The badger plumped down wearily next to Simeon and accepted a beaker of new cider. "I'd be most grateful if you did, Saxtus. I've run my aching old bones ragged searching for those three rips."


As the young mouse trotted off on a tour of the Abbey grounds Mellus refilled Simeon's beaker.


"What a fine young creature our Saxtus is. I remember he wasn't any great trouble as a Dibbun, always a


380


fairly serious and obedient little thing. Not like some I could name."


The blind herbalist smiled. "You're a proper old fraud, Mellus. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if all our Dibbuns were quiet, serious and obedient. It makes the seasons happier having a few little pickles around."


Having searched in the most likely hiding places, Saxtus mounted the wallsteps and scoured the ramparts. Starting at the south wall, he worked his way along to the east battlements, covering every recess and niche, each moment expecting to come upon the three little ones hiding in some favorite corner. He had hidden up here many a time with Dandin and Durry when they were small; all the best secret hideouts were known to him.


Saxtus could feel anxiety beginning to gnaw at him. He had searched every possible place and still there was no sign of the missing trio. He leaned his back against the northwest walltop corner, looking down into the Abbey grounds, mentally ticking off each place he had covered. The three little ones were definitely missing, but there was no need to upset Mother Mellus yet they might still be somewhere in the vicinity. Saxtus turned to look up the path. For a moment he could scarcely believe his eyes, he felt his whole body begin to shake and tremble with excitement. Paws twitching and teeth chattering, he blinked and rubbed his eyes to reassure himself he was not witnessing a mirage. He was not! He stood for some time, exerting all his willpower to gain control of himself.


oo


Refreshment time was over in the orchard. Picking up their baskets, the harvesters were about to go back to work. Saxtus's voice rang out level and loud from the ramparts.


"Father Abbot, Mother Mellus, bring everybody with you. Come up here and look at this!"


Mellus and the Abbot, with Simeon between them, rounded the corner of the Abbey building, a crowd of Redwallers following them.


"Saxtus. Hi, Saxtus, what is it?"


"Have you found the Dibbuns, Saxtus?"


The young mouse turned and called back to the swelling band of Redwallers, "Come up here, this is very important, I think you should all see this!"


Now every creature in the Abbey was striding across the lawns, from the orchards, kitchens, Great Hall, Cavern Hole, dormitories and gatehouse, overcome with curiosity.


"I hope it ain't more searats, marm!"


"In the name of all fur, what is it?"


"Hoi, Saxtus, what's all this about?"


But Saxtus had turned his back on them and was staring out at the path from the north, ignoring their shouts.


Mellus quickend her pace. "Ooh, he was always very aggravating as a Dibbun was that one!"


oo


Every creature in the Abbey was now ranged along the wall staring dumbfounded at the sight before them. It was Gabriel Quill who broke the silence. Scrambling up onto a battlement, he waved his paws wildly as he shouted, "They've come back! Oh, Durry me heart, it's me, yer ol' nuncle Gabriel!"


The hedgehog's call seemed to trigger everything. A mighty roaring cheer rose from the walltops; caps and aprons were flung in the air as the Redwallers danced up and down, waving and cheering at the top of their lungs, stamping their paws and howling pure joy to the skies.


"They're back! Oh look, they're back! Hooraaaaaay!!!"


On the path the horde of Trag warriors with the great


382


bell in their midst ground to a halt at Rawnblade's signal.


Mariel stood atop the bell. She loosed her Gullwhacker and began swinging it in circles above her head.


Tarquin winked at her. "Go on, old gel, let 'em know you jolly well did it!"


The mousemaid swung the heavily knotted rope down with both paws.


Boooooommrnmmml


The deep melodious sound echoed out across the brown and russet woodlands in the fine autumn morn.


"Eulaliaaaaa! Trag! Trag! Trag! Redwaaaaalll!"


The answer to Red wall's cheers rent the air as the warriors roared out their battle cry. Sitting on top of Lord Rawnblade's war helmet, Grubb joined paws with Bagg and Runn, who were perched on the badger's shoulders. Between them they yelled as loudly as any battle-hardened soldier.


Abbot Bernard stood in front of the open gateway, paws tucked into wide habit sleeves. His voice quivered noticeably as he addressed the four travelers who stood with Lord Rawnblade at the head of the army.


"You have come a very long way to be at Redwall Abbey. . . . Welcome home!"


383


Extract from the writings of Abbot Saxtus:


The seasons turn slowly with the earth, Redwall stones grow aged and mellow, and I thank fortune that we live peacefully within our Abbey. The old ones are still with us, I am happy to say: Joseph, Simeon, Hubert and old Abbot Bernard. I sat with them this afternoon, on the rickety remains of the wooden bellcart in the orchard. We talked of bygone times as we lounged about in the warmth of this long summer. Bagg, Runn and Grubb brought us dandelion and burdock cordial to drink. You would not believe what big, well-mannered otters the twins are, and Grubb, always ready with a joke and a smile, he never changes, I know because he put otter hotroot in my beaker. Bernard and his friends were recalling the Feast of the Bell Raising. What a day! Mariel's father was so proud wrhen we named the bell after him, the ]oseph Bell, though he would not sit at the head of the tableno, Joseph insisted on sitting with Tarquin and his wife, Rosie. Ah, that was a feast my stomach still remembers. Cellarmaster Durry Quill and his assistant Old Gabriel produced the finest October ale I ever drank, Friar Cockleburr


384


made a bell-shaped fruitcake as big as the Joseph Bell itself, Friar Alder and his Trag trainees did us proud toothere were more trifles, tarts, puddings, salads, cheeses and breads than you could shake a twig at. Oak Tom and his wife, Treerose, say that the feast might have lasted a whole season had it not been for Flagg the otter, Rosie and Tarquin and Mellus and Rawnblade. My word, you should have seen those creatures eat, you would have thought they were facing a seven-season famine!


Well, the bell was finally raised, though a lot more things happened during the three days of that feast, I can tell you. Lord Rawnblade explained the badger symbols around the top of the bell to us all. Would you believe it, they told of the coming of the bell to Redwall, even predicting its name, Joseph. The badger rulers of Salamandastron are truly mysterious beasts. Someday I may take a trip there to study the mountain and its caves. Rawnblade gave permission for Rosie and Tarquin to range the lands freely, and they have formed an organization called the Fur and Foot Fighting Patrol. Last I heard they had twelve members, all their own young ones. Rufe Brush did a strange thing on the third morning of the feast, he took the sword of Martin the Warrior, strapped it to his back and climbed to the roof of the Abbey. Yes, right up to the very top of Redwallwhat a climb! Rufe placed the sword on the arm of the weathervane and tied it there; what a curious thing to do. Brother Simeon told me that Rufe had been spending a lot of time staring at our grand tapestry of Martin, so it occurs to me that our warrior may have visited Rufe in his dreams. Rufe Brush is now our bellringer, still as strong and silent as ever. I am very close to Rufe. He is a true friend to me, always ready to step in and settle disputes, though they are few and far between at Redwall. I think Bagg will become the new Foremole. The old fellow spends his days drink-


385


ing, eating and playing with the Dibbuns; he is a great favorite among the little ones. I miss Dandin and Mariel very much, and sometimes I dream of them. They went off, you know. The peaceful Abbey life was not for them, they said. One morning we awoke to find they had gone south in search of adventures. Joseph merely smiled and said that they would return someday, but Mother Mellus moped about for half a season; she loved that pair very much. Sometimes I wish that I had not been born with a sense of duty and my serious nature. I would have liked to travel with them, but it was not to be. When Bernard stepped down, everybeast immediately called for me to take on the robe of Father Abbot. What could I do? Wherever my friends Mariel and Dandin are, my heart is with them. May the way be fair before them and good fortune attend them both.


I am sitting on the bell tower steps as I write. It is cool and shady in here, quiet too. The roof and all of the woodwork, stairs and doors and beams are made from the timbers of four ships that were dismantled by the side of the ford which crosses the path to the north. Some of the wood was used to build a bridge over the ford, to protect travelers from the pike that swim in the waters there. I have only to look up and I can see the great Joseph Bell overhead. It is truly the pride of our Abbey, a thing of great beauty. Ah well, Rawnblade rules Salamandas-tron and I must rule here. I love my Redwall Abbey, it is a place of peace and plenty. Soon my friend Rufe will come to ring the bell for suppertime. There will be lots of good things to eat and drink in Cavern Hole, and I will sit in my great chair, surrounded by all of my dear companions, Dibbuns playing beneath the table, Mellus, Sage and Serena, old as they are, still shooing the little ones to bath and bed, and me, discussing with the ancient Simeon what I can sense


386


about the earth, the seasons and the feelings of other creatures. He says I am becoming quite good at it. Old Abbot Bernard will just chuckle into his elderberry wine and recall that Simeon used to say that about him. So I hope you will forgive me, my friends. I must go now and attend to my duties as Father Abbot.


There, I've done it again! Bumped my head on that great knotty thing hanging at the end of the bellrope. I'm always doing that, I must learn to duck my head. Though I think I do it purposely, because that piece of rope reminds me of a little mousemaid named Storm who turned up at our Abbey one summer. Have you guessed what the rope is? Then you must have been taking lessons from Simeon. It is the weapon called Gullwhacker. Before Mariel and Dandin went, they tied it to the end of the bellrope as a reminder to other creatures for all the seasons to come that this was how they brought the great Joseph Bell home to Redwall.


387



ТЕЛЕГРАМ

Канал с обзорами, анонсами новинок и книжными подборками

Книжный Вестник

Бот для удобного поиска книг (если не нашлось на сайте)

Поиск книг

Свежие любовные романы в удобных форматах

Любовные романы

О психологии, саморазвитии и личностном росте

Саморазвитие

Детективы и триллеры, все новинки

Детективы

Фантастика и фэнтези, все новинки

Фантастика

Отборные классические книги

Классика
ВКОНТАКТЕ

Цитаты, афоризмы, стихи, книжные подборки, обсуждения и многое другое

Книжный Вестник
БИБЛИОТЕКИ

Библиотека с любовными романами, которая наверняка придётся по вкусу женской части аудитории

Любовные романы

Библиотека с фантастикой и фэнтези, а также смежных жанров

Фантастика

Самые популярные книги в формате фб2

Топ фб2 книги