Mattimeo

Chapter 32

The raft was proving successful. Though the water hammered it hard in midcurrent, it held together

admirably. Log-a-Log was in his element, manoeuvring the tiller as he shouted out orders above the rush

of the waters. The long poles they had used for punting were now useless as a means of propelling the

craft, and they relied upon the steering skills of the shrew leader.

Matthias stood at the forward end scanning the other shore, Basil and Cheek hung on to each other for

dear life, with Jess, Jabez and Orlando near to paw, surrounded by shrews who packed the floating deck to

its edges. They were past the midriver point when Matthias made his way across to Log-a-Log.

“How is she handling?”

“Oh, fine, Matthias, fine,” Log-a-Log said airily. “As you can see, we’ve sprung a small leak or two, but

nothing to worry about. I’ll make for that spot over there. It’s a curving inlet and the water looks almost

still, so it must be by-passed by the main center current. Are you all right, not worried about anything?”

“Not exactly worried, just keeping my eyes, ears and wits about me,” Matthias admitted. “That shore

looks a bit too peaceful for my liking.”

“Ha, anything that looks peaceful is exactly to my liking.”

Stonefleck stood with his back to a rock on the open bank, completely disguised by his strange coat. In his

paws he held a bow with an arrow notched on its string. Coolly he watched the raft looming larger,

knowing that his formidable army was waiting, bows at the ready for its leader to fire the first arrow.

Basil relaxed his grip on Cheek. “Ha, we’re not bad sailors after all, young Cheek. Can’t you feel the water

gettin’ smoother, not so much of that infernal bobbin’ up and down like a duck’s bottom?”

“That’s as may be Basil, but I won’t feel easy until me young paws are on dry land again,” the otter said

nervously. “Lookit that Log-a-Log shrew, he’s enjoyin’ it all. I bet he’ll be sorry to leave this raft.”

“Stand ready with those poles,” Log-a-Log called to the shrews seated at the outboard edges. “We’ll be

into still waters soon.”

A hissing volley of arrows speeding like flighted death cut down the six shrews who stood grasping the

poles. They toppled lifeless into the water.

Immediately, the shore was alive with innumerable rats unleashing arrows one after another into the

unprotected creatures on the flat raft deck.

Taken completely by surprise, there was only one course of action open to Matthias. Ducking and

dodging flying shafts, he yelled, “Overboard! Everybeast overboard. Stay on the river side of the raft. Keep

low!”

There was a mass scramble, making the raft tilt perilously. Matthias, Log-a-Log and Jess unfastened

their slings. All around them the shrews leapt into the water, clinging to the side of the raft furthest from

the shore. The three friends launched slingstones at the attackers, but they did little good. Arrows still

poured back at them like spring rain.

“Log-a-Log, Jess, get off the raft, hurry!” Matthias shouted urgently.

The squirrel and the shrew did not stop to argue, they abandoned the heeling raft and took to the

water. Matthias went last.

Stonefleck looked at the sky. Twilight was arriving. He signalled a cease-fire.

“Wait, they’re in the water now. Let’s watch the sport before we open up again. But pick off any loose

ones that you sight.”

The rat army packed to the water’s edge, gazing at the bobbing raft an arrow’s-length away.

Basil spat out a mouthful of river water as he clung to the side of the raft.

“Ambushed!” he said disgustedly. “Where in the name of fur and claw did that mob spring from?

They’re no slouches with those bows, Orlando.”

“If I could reach them with my battleaxe, I’d show them I’m no slouch, the filthy assassins. Ouch, what

was that?”

There were shouts and screams from the shrews.

“Ow! I’ve been bitten!”

“Ouch, ow! Me too!”

“Owooh! I’m bleeding!”

Matthias gritted his teeth. “Silence. Be still. It’s probably just a shoal of small fish.”

Jess changed places until she was by Matthias. “Owch! It’s like sitting on a beehive,” she complained.

“Cheek’s got more sense. Look, he’s still on the raft.”

A shrew who had been bitten tried hauling himself out of the water; he took an arrow between the

eyes. Another shrew tried swimming away from the raft; two arrows sank him. The rats were sniping from

the bank at anything that popped up or moved.

Cheek lay sprawled flat in the center of the raft, ignoring Matthias.

“Come off that raft, Cheek. You’ll be shot,” Matthias said sharply.

“No fear. Lie low and cling tight, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going into that river.”

Basil sucked up water and spat it at the young otter.

“You little nuisance, come off that raft, sir. Off, I say!” he ordered.

Matthias felt tiny teeth bite his tail. He kicked out and was bitten again.

“Leave him, Basil. Let’s think of some way out of this. The raft is drifting towards those rats. Duck!

They’re firing again.”

More volleys of arrows followed.

For the first time in a long while, Stonefleck allowed himself a tight smile of satisfaction. “We’ve got them.

They’re sailing towards us. Keep up the arrows! Those who aren’t eaten will be shot. I want no captives.

We’re not slavers; leave that to Slagar.”

Jabez Stump was being bitten on his unprotected paws.

“I can’t stand much more of this,” the hedgehog winced. “What’s to be done?”

“Hold the raft tight,” Log-a-Log called out. “Try backing water. We might just tow it off into the main

current again and get washed away from this lot.”

They tried as hard as they could, and the raft backed off slightly.

“It’s heavy going. Cheek, will you get off that raft. We’re towing your weight down here,” Matthias

said crossly.

Cheek lay flat, clinging tighter to the deck as arrows whizzed over him in flights.

“No! Go ’way, leave me alone.”

Orlando lost his temper. He took the battleaxe by its head and made a mighty sweep at Cheek with the

long handle.

Darkness had practically fallen, and the young otter did not see the axe handle coming. It struck him a

blow and pushed him off into the water with a loud splash. “Yah gerroff, you great stripedo—”

Splash!

Cheek could not deny his birthright; he was an otter through and through. As skillfully as any fish, he

cut through the water surrounding the raft, appearing alongside Basil.

The hare looked at him suspiciously. “You’re chewing, young Master Cheek. Where are you hidin’ the

food?”

Cheek smacked his lips, “little fishes. The river’s swarmin’ with ’em, there must be millions. Taste

lovely, though. I’d have got into the water sooner if I’d known I wasn’t goin’ to be afraid and all this food

was here.”

With that, he disappeared beneath the surface and began filling his stomach with the finny delicacies.

Cheek was biting back.

On shore Stonefleck rapped out orders to one of his Captains. “Light some flaming arrows. Shoot at the raft.

Hurry, or they’ll paddle it out of our reach. Tell the others to get the ferry going. See if we can get closer.

The rest of you, keep firing.”

The rat Captain looked questioningly at Stonefleck. “But surely they’ll be eaten by the fishes?”

Stonefleck fired off an arrow before replying, “It’s the otter. I forgot about that one. He’ll eat those fish

like a pig at acorns.”

“But there’s far too many fish for him to eat, Chief. The water’s alive with ’em,” the Captain argued.

“Fool! Once those fish sense there’s an otter in the water, they’ll stay away from that area. Then those

creatures will be able to paddle the raft out into the mainstream current. I want to finish it here tonight, not

in the morning a night’s march down the bank. Now get about your business.”

Matthias heaved a sigh of relief. “Whew! At least those fish aren’t biting so much.”

Cheek popped up beside him. “Yum, yum. You’ve got me to thank for that!”

Orlando ducked him back under with a big blunt paw.

“Stop gabbing and keep scoffing. You to thank indeed! You mean you’ve got my axe handle to thank.

And don’t think you won’t taste it if you don’t keep those fishes away, young otter.”

The night sky was cut by the light of a flaming arrow which shot through the dark to bury itself in the

side of the raft.

Jess put it out by squirting a mouthful of water at it. “Fire arrows, Matthias,” she remarked. “Look, I

can see by the light of their fire that they’re launching a raft.”

Matthias redoubled his efforts.

“Hurry, everybeast, kick out as hard as you can.”

Cheek gripped a trailing rope in his teeth and swam strongly with it. The raft doubled its speed. Arrows

zinged all around them as the rats leant over the rails of their own ferry raft.

“Keep down, keep pulling, keep paddling,” Orlando yelled. “They’re coming after us.”

As he shouted, a shrew next to him let go and floated away, transfixed by an arrow.

Stonefleck was on the ferry raft, firing arrow after arrow.

“Don’t let them get away,” he exhorted his army. “Get the poles. Come on, get pushing with those

poles. Fire! Keep after them!”

With superior numbers and long poles, the rat ferry drew closer to the raft. Stonefleck waved to the

shore.

“No more fire arrows,” he ordered. “You might hit us. We’ve got them now!”

Log-a-Log spat into the water.

“Did you hear that, Guosim. Kick now. Kick for your lives!”

The woodlander’s raft pulled away fractionally, but Stonefleck urged his rats to greater efforts with

their long poles.

The two vessels were separated only by a thin margin of river. Stonefleck and a few chosen rats stood

outside the rails of the ferry, preparing to jump from one craft to the other. The light of victory gleamed in

Stonefleck’s normally impassive eyes.

Matthias pulled himself up and saw what was happening.

“It looks as if they’re going to board us,” he said gloomily.

Orlando heaved himself from the water and stood dripping on the deck of the raft, waving his

battleaxe.

“Come on, rats, let’s see what you’ve got inside your heads!” he taunted.

An arrow from the rat ferry struck Orlando in his paw. He pulled it out contemptuously. Snapping it

easily, he flung it at Stonefleck.

“You’ll have to do better than that to stop me, ratface!” he called.

Suddenly the raft sped off downriver on the rushing current. The rat ferry stopped stock-still, throwing

Stonefleck and several others into the water.

Hurriedly, the rats dragged their leader and the others back aboard.

Stonefleck twanged his wet bowstring and spat water. “Why didn’t somebeast untie the ferry

towropes? Pull us back to shore. We’ll have to follow along the bank.”

A ragged cheer arose from the shrews’ raft as the friends disappeared into the night on the rushing

water.

That evening, a group sat around the table in Cavern Hole discussing General Ironbeak’s ultimatum. The

reaction was angry and indignant.

“Who does he think he is? Redwall isn’t conquered that easy.”

“We beat them once, we can do it again.”

“Aye, but this time Ironbeak has the hostages.”

“He’ll kill them if we don’t surrender.”

“Hurr, he’m a crafty owd burdbag, that’n.”

The Abbot rapped the table. “Silence, please. We have no time to sit about arguing. What I need is some

sensible suggestions. Let us review the position. The raven has the hostages, and no matter how we try to

buy time or debate, he’ll kill them eventually, make no mistake about that. I tried to bluff him today,

possibly I succeeded, but it won’t last. Listen, even if it meant the loss of just one life, I would have to

surrender the Abbey, We cannot have three deaths on our heads; it is against all our principles.”

Winifred the Otter thumped the table with her tail. “Play the villain at his own game, then. What’s the

name for it? Er, subterfuge, that’s it. We’ll use subterfuge.”

Every creature sat up bright and attentive. When there was no response to Winifred’s suggestion, they

slumped back.

“We’m gotter be a-thinken ’ard, rasslin’ wi’ uz brains,” Foremole urged.

More silence followed.

“Surely somebody must have a glimmer of a plan?” Winifred said sadly.

“Here comes supper. Let’s think while we eat,” the Abbot suggested.

“Good idea,” Ambrose Spike agreed. “Sometimes I thinks the brainbox and the stomach bag is joined

up some’ow. Hoho, I say, they done us proud, acorn salad and spiced apple’n’damson pie—”

“Pie, that’s it!”

They turned to stare at John Churchmouse.

“I was trying to remember the name of those black and white birds that are with Ironbeak. It’s pie.

Magpie!”

The Abbot put aside his platter. “Go on, John, think hard. Have you got an idea?”

John scratched his whiskers in frustration. “Oh, if only I could remember what it was. It’s stuck right

between the tips of my ears. Hmph! It’s no good, I’ve forgotten now.”

Ambrose supped October ale noisily from a beaker. “Pity, I thought you was goin’ to come up with a

plan to get your missus an’ Cornflower an’ that baby down off the roof.”

“The roof, the magpies, that’s it!” John Churchmouse banged his paw down on the table, squelching a

wedge of pie by mistake. “Of course, I saw those three magpies only this morning, robbing our orchard and

flying up to the eaves. Those birds are Ironbeak’s supply line. He needs them to bring in food!”

“And if we could capture ’em, we could do a swap,” Winifred said through a mouthful of salad. “Three

magpies for three hostages. Good idea, John.”

“Burr aye, vittles be of more use to burdbags than ’ostages. Otherwise they’d be a-starved from ’unger,”

Foremole added.

Constance rapped the table. “Right, let’s get a proper plan organized. What we propose is to capture the

three magpies and exchange them for the hostages. No army can survive without supplies, and Ironbeak

knows this. He wouldn’t be able to keep his followers here if they were starving. This way we can save

Redwall and get the hostages back. But how do we capture the magpies?”

The Abbot held up a paw. “I used to be the Abbey fishermouse before I was Abbot. Could we not snare

them with fishing nets? We’ve got lots of big nets.”

“Well said, Abbot, but magpies are not fishes. How would you snare them into nets?” Constance asked.

Ambrose Spike poked his snout out of the ale beaker. “Find out where they get their food supplies and

put down bait.”

“I think they get their supplies from our orchard,” John Churchmouse said, licking pie from his paw.

Little Sister May was highly indignant. “I’m certain they do, Father Abbot! Only today I saw them from

the infirmary window, those three dreadful birds, stealing from our orchard. Anything that falls ripe from a

bush or tree, they carry off. It’s theft, that’s what it is.”

“Durty ol’ burdbags, oi was a-wonderen whurr all they ripe strawb’rries was agoin’.”

“Exactly, Mr. Foremole.” Sister May wagged a reproving paw. “At one time it was only you and Mr.

Stag Hare who used to steal them, but those three birds, gracious me! You’d think we were growing

strawberries just for their benefit. I watched them guzzle down a great load before carrying off as much as

they could with them. Disgraceful!”

Foremole covered his eyes with a huge digging paw. “Hurr hurr, Sister. Oi was only a-testin’ they

berries. It were mainly young Mattimeo an’ that Tim’n’Tess wi’ thurr squirrel pal as scoffed most o’ them.

Hurr hurr, young roguers!”

“You’re right, Foremole,” John Churchmouse sniffed. “I only wish they were still here to do it. I for one

wouldn’t grudge them the odd strawberry from the patch.”

There were murmurs of agreement from all.

Little Sister May blew her nose loudly. “Well, talk like this isn’t getting many dishes washed. I’ve got an

idea. Suppose we gather the ripest strawberries and sprinkle them with some sort of sleeping potion, then

we could put them in one place in the orchard and lie in wait with the nets.”

“Sister May, I’m shocked and surprised at you!” Abbot Mordalfus shook his head in amazement. “What

a good idea. But I’m not sure we know enough about sleeping potions. That’s the sort of thing the masked

fox used on us. You can look to villains for that sort of thing, but we are only simple Abbey dwellers.”

“Leave it to me, Father Abbot,” little Sister May smiled sweetly. “I have enough herbs, berries and roots

in my infirmary cupboard to lay a horse out flat. Oh, it will be exciting. I’ve always wanted to try my paw

at sleeping potions.”

Foremole tugged his snout in admiration. “You’m a proper liddle fiend an’ no mistake, marm. Oi’ll

escort you up to ’firmary to pick up your potions an’ suchloik.”

Ambrose Spike crooked a paw at the Abbot. “Follow me, I’ve got your big nets stowed away in my

cellars.”

Mobilized by fresh hope, the Abbey dwellers went about their tasks.

Up in the roofspaces Cornflower rocked the sleeping baby Rollo upon her lap as she and Mrs.

Churchmouse conversed in hushed tones.

“Look, bless him, he’s snoring away like my Mattimeo used to when he was a baby,” she said,

becoming sad. “I don’t think there’s a moment of one day since Mattimeo’s been gone when I haven’t

thought of him. First I worry, then I tell myself it’ll be all right because Matthias will have probably found

him, then I go back to worrying, then I tell myself he may have escaped. Oh, Mrs. Churchmouse, if only

they were all babies again like Rollo.”

“Aye, those were the best times. My Tim and Tess were a right pair of little scallywags, I can tell you.

Mr. Churchmouse and I never got a wink’s sleep that first season they were born. All they wanted to do

was play the whole night long. D’you suppose that the raven will really have us thrown from the roof?”

asked Mrs. Churchmouse apprehensively.

“He’ll do what he has to, Mrs. Churchmouse. I’m afraid of him, but I don’t care what happens as long

as that horrible bird doesn’t get Redwall. That would be the end.”

The churchmouse stroked baby Rollo; he had stopped snoring and started sucking his paw.

“What hope is there for this poor little mite, no mummy and a prisoner too?” she wondered.

Cornflower sighed. The roofspace was dark and chilly with night draughts sweeping in under the

eaves. All around them the black birds perched in the rafters, and it was difficult to tell whether they were

awake or sleeping. She wondered where Matthias was and what he would be doing at this moment.

Thinking of her husband, the Redwall Warrior, gave her courage again.

“Don’t you fret, Mrs. Churchmouse. Our friends in the Abbey will have made plans to free us, you’ll

see. Let’s try and get a bit of sleep. Here, we’ll share my old shawl.”

Clouds scudded across the moon on their way across the night sky, while a million stars twinkled over

the gently swaying forest.