Marlfox

"Don't you dare touch that Dibbun!"

"You stinkin' coward!"

"Hurr, big bravebeast loik ee, slayin' liddle 'uns, you'm nought but sloim'n'mud!"

"Harm not my precious mite, sir, I beg you. Take my life instead!"

"For shame! You, sir, are nought but a scum-wallower!"

Janglur Swifteye held up his paws for silence. "Save yore breath, friends. 'Tis wasted on the likes of that 'un. Lissen, fox, we'll meet you at the southwest corner of this wall at midnight. I'll see these Redwallers bring lots o' pretty things to trade for Dwopple. Agreed?"

Mokkan smiled up at the squirrel. "I'm glad there's one creature at Redwall with a bit of sense. I accept your offer, squirrel, but make sure whoever comes is unarmed. One false trick will cost the mousebabe his life!"

As the Marlfox vanished into the ditch the Abbey gates burst open. Log a Log and his Guosim shrews came pouring out, rapiers drawn. They leapt into the ditch, but there was not a trace of the Marlfox. Rusvul patted the shrew's back as he returned through the gate. "Tough luck, matey. You was just a smidgen too slow there."

The shrew Chieftain sheathed his rapier and helped to bar the gate. "The fox just disappeared. Vanished."

Rusvul snorted. "They ain't magic. I know 'cos I pierced one of 'em through the shoulder with my javelin. Hah! That'n didn't look too magic, scrabblin' off on all fours!"

Janglur bounded down the wallsteps. "Let's go to Cavern Hole. I've got a plan!"

Rusvul called Dann, Song and Dippler to him. "Right, 'tis about time you three started to grow up a bit. I've got a meetin' with Janglur an' the others in Cavern Hole, so that means we need to mount a guard on the ramparts, in case Marlfoxes or water rats come back. How d'you feel about some sentry duty?"

The three friends were proud to accept. Dann spoke for them. "You can trust us, we won't let Redwall down!"

Rusvul nodded approvingly, at his son. "Spoken like a Reguba! See what ole Butty has at the gatehouse in the way of weaponry an' arm yoreselves. Keep a sharp eye on the woodlands an' don't be afraid to yell for help if'n you needs it."

In the gatehouse, Friar Butty was poring through old record books. He indicated a long, narrow corner cupboard. "There's weapons in there, I think, though they've not seen the light o' day in many a season. Help yourselves. Personally, I could have done with your assistance in my researches, but if you three are needed on the walltops then so be it. I'll come up and let you know if I discover anything about the Marlfoxes or their hidden island."

Hardly a breeze stirred the treetops of Mossflower Wood. Grasshoppers chirruped and butterflies winged placidly in the shimmering midday heat on the western plains and flatlands. Beneath Dann's footpaws the broad sandstone walkway was pleasantly warm as he paced back to the threshold from the east walltop. The young squirrel had outfitted himself with a long spear and a dented copper helmet, which he had dusted off and polished. Song had found something that fitted her paw as if it were made for her: a short solid stick, with a ball of green stone mounted on one end. She twirled it skillfully, feeling its balance as she returned from her patrol of the south battlements. Dippler was waiting at the threshold for them. The young shrew looked comical. He had found a chain-mail tunic and a crested helmet complete with visor, and was practically staggering under their weight. Beside his shrew rapier Dippler carried an immense halberd, the heavy long-poled weapon that is both spear and battle-ax combined. He threw up a clanking salute at his friends. "Anythin' to report, mates?"

Dann took off his helmet and mopped his brow. "Whew! All I've got t'report is that 'tis roastin' under this helmet. Aren't you hot under that lot, Dipp?"

Dippler was, but he would not admit it. "Oh no, matey, I'm just fine, fine!"

Song could not resist laughing at the small overdressed shrew. "Hahaha! There's a little cloud o' steam comin' from under your helmet, Dipp. Are you cookin' a stew in there?"

Dann joined in the laughter. Dippler gave them both a haughty glare from beneath his rusty visor and clanked off, calling back, "Laugh all y'like, outfits like this'n have saved many a warrior's life. Hi! Who goes there, friend or foebeast?"

Sister Sloey clambered up the gatehouse wallsteps, lugging a basket covered with a white cloth. She snorted at the challenge. "Foebeast, indeed! Do I look like a foebeast? Cregga and Brother Melilot decided that you guards had best take lunch up here on the walltops. Here, take this basket, Song, my paws are old'n'tired."

The three friends felt very grown-up and privileged to have lunch sent out to them as they spread the cloth and laid out the food. Dippler even removed his helmet.

"Well, this's the stuff to give the troops. Good ole Melilot! That dandelion an' burdock cordial looks nice'n' cool. Pour me a beaker, Dann. Look at this, mush-room'n'celery turnover, leek pasty, apple'n'blackberry crumble an' a bowl of nutcream. They certainly know 'ow t'feed us wallguards at this Abbey, mates!"

Friar Butty joined them, carrying a big ancient volume. "Dearie me, Song, I wish you'd have a word with that grandma of yours. She's turned my gatehouse into a dormitory, and she and Nutwing have taken to coming there for their afternoon nap. Between them they've driven me out with their snoring and snuffling!"

Song poured the old squirrel a beaker of cordial. "Never mind, fresh air's better for you than a dusty old gatehouse, Friar. What's that book you've brought up here?"

The Redwall Recorder opened the volume at a place he had marked. "This is a chronicle from the time of Abbess Vale. I couldn't even begin to guess how many long seasons ago it was written, but it seems that two Redwallers, a squirrel named Samkim and a mole called Arula, actually found the great inland lake and knew of the lost island."

Dann cut himself a slice of pasty. "Is there anything in the book about Marlfoxes?"

Friar Butty flicked a few pages, indicating the state of them. "I wouldn't know, Dann. Somebeast left this volume outdoors and open in the rain during bygone seasons. The chapters that are of interest to us have been ruined by water. Parchment's flaked and the ink has run'tis a real mess."

Dippler pawed through the spoiled pages. "Bit of a shame, Friar mate. So you didn't find out anythin'?"

Butty stared pensively at the book. "Maybe not about the foxes, but I think there's directions to the lake. Bit of a puzzle, though."

Song was intrigued. She loved nothing better than solving mysteries. "Here, let's all take a close look at it. We've eight sharp eyes and four good brains between us. Friar Butty, get ready with your pen an' parchment to record whatever we find!"

In Cavern Hole a desperate plan, calling for deception and daring, was being outlined by Janglur Swifteye. The squirrel warrior drew a square on the tabletop with charcoal. "This is the outer walls, this mark here's the main gate. Tonight we meet the foxes and water rats outside at the southwest corner by the path. Make no mistake, mates, they'll come in forcewell armed, too. Show 'em one sign o' weakness an' we'll all be slain!"

Cregga's blind eyes seemed to stare straight at him. "You're right, of course, Janglur. Treachery is the pawmark of foxes and vermin. So what do you propose we do?"

The squirrel's hooded eyes flicked idly around the table. "We take everybeast who can wield a weapon. Remember I said to the fox this mornin' that we'd bring a selection of valuables to trade for liddle Dwopple. Well, we'll be carryin' four or five bundles, though only one'll contain trinkets. The rest will be bundles of weapons. Me an' Rusvul will open the bundle o' trinkets an' when we gives the word you'll all pull out the arms an' attack. Me an' Rusvul will snatch Dwopple an' pass 'im to Cregga, she'll protect 'im. Log a Log, some o' yore Guosim shrews will be with us, but as soon as it goes dark tonight, I wants you t'take half yore tribe out quiet like. Go straight out onto the flatlands an' sweep back so that yore well below the Abbey to the south. Then get in the fields an' woodland fringe. When you see the attack's started I want you to charge their rear an' take 'em by surprise."

Tragglo Cellarhog scratched his headspikes. "But why, Janglur? If we get the babe back, wot's the point o' fightin' further? We'd be best gettin' back inside o' the Abbey quick an' safe as possible. Why stay an' fight with 'em?"

Murmurs of agreement with Tragglo's reasoning came from all around the table. Janglur sighed and tossed down his charcoal stick. "Tell 'em why, Rusvul."

Rusvul Reguba pounded the tabletop slowly as he spoke, as if driving every word home. "Because they'll slaughter us if we don't get 'em first! To fight vermin you gotta think the same way they do. If they lose the babe an' don't git no ransom fer 'im, then believe me, they won't just pack up an' go away. Oh no, mates, they'll be out fer revenge on Redwall, an' they won't rest till they gets it!"

Rusvul's paw rested on the table. Skipper's closed over it. "He's right. Take my affidavit on it, mates!"

Cregga Badgermum nodded her huge striped head. "It's a perilous plan, but I trust our warriors. All in favor say aye."

Every creature in Cavern Hole gave their answer without hesitation.

"Aye!"

Mokkan had one hundred and ninety water rats and five other Marlfoxes under his command, and he planned to use them well. They sat about on the creek bank as he issued final orders.

"You all know what to do. Anybeast who does not do it right answers to me. We move out at twilight. Rest now, but see that your weapons are attended to, make sure those blades are sharp and ready to serve the High Queen's brood. Ascrod, Vannan, which two do you need?"

Ascrod sought out the two they wanted. "Dakkle and Beelu, you will accompany me and my sister."

The two rats in question saluted. Mokkan went and sat next to Gelltor, who was changing the dressing on his shoulder. "How goes it with your wound now, brother?"

Gelltor bit his lip as he peeled off a dockleaf that had stuck to the fur around his injury. "None the better for your asking!"

Mokkan lay back and closed his eyes, the sunlight making him almost invisible as it dappled leaf patterns down upon his body. "Don't worry, you'll have your revenge tonight on the Redwallers, a much quicker vengeance than your idea of all-out war."

Chapter 10

Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop had decided that the best thing for creatures going into action was to inspire them with a stirring ballad. Accordingly he kitted himself out in a heroic toga, brandished a floppy sword and glared at his audience ferociously through a monocle with no glass in it. The Redwallers sat about in a semicircle by the Abbey pond, while Florian pranced about on the water's edge and treated them to a rendition of "The Battle for the Final Crumpet." Roop, the mole, accompanied him on a small accordion and Runktipp sang the refrain. Florian scowled savagely at a few tittering Dibbuns as he launched into the opening lines of the song.

"Oh 'twas on the umpty-ninth of spring,

When a duck blew on a trumpet,

I led me army from behind,

To the battle of the final crumpet.

Some wore boots an' some wore clogs,

An' some wore big long faces,

An' two fat moles fell down with colds,

Before we'd marched ten paces. "

At the battle of the final crumpet,

I very near lost me life,

When I got punched upon the nose,

By a big bad hedgehog's wife.

Then all broke out in mutiny,

When a mouse with a mustache said,

'Lie down me lads afore they charge,

So they'll all think we're dead!'

Well there we sat while all around,

The spears an' shafts were thuddin',

A-drinkin' goosegog cordial wine,

An' eatin' cabbage puddin'.

We finally defeated them,

When the duck tripped on his trumpet,

An' I got a feather in me cap,

"Cos I ate the final crumpet!"

Florian sang the final two lines while waving his sword and dancing energetically backward for effect. He stumbled on one of his outsized boots and fell into the pond, to riotous applause. Skipper shook tears of helpless mirth from his eyes. "Sink me rudder, mates, we're in fer a lively time if'n that 'un's defendin' the Abbey tonight!"

On the walltop there was great hilarity. Song, Dann and Dippler chuckled aloud, watching the two moles, Roop and Muggle, trying to haul the ungainly hare from the pond. Friar Butty tapped the tattered volume with his quill. "Can we get back to our work, please?"

Still smiling, the three friends turned to the parchment the old Recorder had translated from the washed-out, ink-stained journal of Abbess Vale, a wise creature who had ruled Redwall in the far-off seasons. Dippler was no great scholar, and he stared at the Friar's neat rows of writing blankly. "What does it all mean?"

Friar Butty flicked the pages of the ancient book. "As far as I can make out it was written by a squirrel called Samkim in his latter seasons. He must have been a tricky creature, thoughhe wrote directions to the Great Lake in the form of a riddling rhyme. Listen to this.

"At the rear of redstone wall,

Find me o'er where breaks the day,

You cannot, shall not walk at all,

Just follow as I run away.

Discover the speechless hidden mouth,

Alas, my friends, our ways part there,

Go down green tunnel, bounden south,

Through trees with blossoms in their hair.

Then when the sky show s blue and light,

And clear down to the bed you gaze,

Be not deceived by rainbows bright,

Beware tall stones and misted haze.

Leaping boiling, stealing breath,

None can stand against this might,

Which sweeps the traveler down to death,

In caves of grim eternal night.

And should you live to seek the lake,

Watch for the fish of blue and gray,

Betwixt those two's the path you take,

Good fortune wend you on your way!"

Dippler scratched his fur beneath the weighty chain-mail suit. The young Guosim shrew was still puzzled by the cryptic words. "Sounds pretty enough, but I still ain't got a clue, mates."

Friar Butty smiled at Dippler's inexperience. "Fiddley dee, young feller, you'd be the wisest creature around if you did. Riddling poems are not written so that we may solve them at a glance, right, Song?"

The pretty young squirrel nodded as she scanned the verse. "That's correct, Friar. We need to study this thing hard, take it a line at a time and concentrate upon the words."

Dann settled his chin on both paws, staring hard at the puzzle. "Hmm. By the look of it this doesn't mention any-thin' about Marlfoxes."

Dippler struggled out of the chain mail, which had finally become too uncomfortable for him. "Maybe it doesn't, Dann, but it might lead us to know 'em better- where they come from, why they made such a journey, an' so on."

Friar Butty patted his young friend's back heartily. "Well said, Dippler! I think you've the makings of a great scholar."

Accompanied by Log a Log and some of his shrews, Janglur and Rusvul were collecting together all the serviceable weapons they could lay paws upon. Carrying bags made from old curtain drapes, they approached the gatehouse, where Cregga had told them there was a cupboard full of disused armaments. Suddenly, Rusvul stopped so sharply that Janglur almost collided with him. Log a Log looked at the warrior squirrel, who was glaring grim-faced at the walltop.

"Rusvul, wot's the matter, matey?"

Ignoring the shrew Chieftain's question, Rusvul shouted angrily, "Dannflor Reguba, what'n the name o' blazes d'you think yore playin' at up there?"

Still sitting poring over the writings, Dann waved cheerily down to his father. "We're tryin' to solve a riddle. 'Tis all about that isle on the great lake an' how t'get there."

Rusvul slammed his javelin point hard into the ground. "A warrior who's put on guard duty should be doin' just that, guardin' the walltops! Not foolin' about with games!"

Janglur cautioned his friend in a quiet voice. "Go easy, mate, Dann's still only a young 'un."

But Rusvul's unpredictable temper allowed no margin for reason. "Supposin' the foebeast launched an attack on the east wall while yore sittin' foolin' about on the west wall, what then?"

Friar Butty hastily bundled up the rhyme and passed it to Song, who stowed it in her tunic as all four stood up. The Friar spread his paws wide, bowing slightly to the party below. "You mustn't blame them, friends, 'twas all my idea. I thought that young fresh minds would help me with my investigations."

The burly shrew Fenno pointed an accusing paw at Dippler. "Hah! Might o' known he'd be part o' this. Remember wot 'appened to our logboats when he was supposed t'be guardin' 'em, eh?"

Fenno found that he could say no more, because Log a Log's rapier point was beneath his chin, forcing his head back. The shrew Chieftain spoke calmly. "Who asked yore opinion, loudmouth? Keep out o' this or I'll pin yore big tongue t'that liddle thing y'call a brain!"

Song tried to calm things down by addressing her father. "We really were guarding the walls. It was only when lunch arrived that we took a little break and had a look at the Friar's rhyme."

Janglur Swifteye winked lazily at his daughter. "I ain't complainin', missie. I felt good'n'safe down below in Cavern 'Ole while you an' yore pals stood sentry up there." He shrugged and nudged Rusvul playfully. "Wasn't you ever young yoreself, mate? Come on, let it be. Dann's a fine son, just like my Song's a good daughter. We should be proud of 'em."

But Rusvul would not let it be. He pointed an accusing paw at Dann. "A guard's a guard an' a warrior's a warrior, not some kind o' dusty scholar. More so if yore name is Reguba. That's a title to live up to, son, always remember that!"

A voice boomed out behind them. "Stop all this! I will not have arguing and bad feeling within these Abbey walls!" Cregga Badgermum strode up, with Skipper at her side. The big otter stood forward and spoke for her.

"Log a Log, put up yore blade, mate. 'Tis against RedwalTs rules of 'ospitality to draw steel agin' another while yore a guest 'ere. An' the rest of you, 'ear this. If you got any grievances while yore at Redwall Abbey, then the council of elders'll sort 'em out. All must live in peace 'ere without arguin' or fightin'. So settle any differences or ferget 'em. Show an example t'the young 'uns, eh?"

Log a Log sheathed his rapier and shook Skipper's paw. "Sounds like good sense t'me, messmate. Right, let's get on with gatherin' weapons so we can show a liddle good manners to those Marlfoxes an' water rats tonight!"

The dispute broke up amid chuckles and laughter. Cregga reached out a paw and halted Rusvul as he moved off. The good badger spoke to him out of earshot of the rest. "You have not been here many seasons, Rusvul, and I know you had a hard life. But you should not have shamed your son by shouting at him in front of otherbeasts like that. Dann is a fine young creature, but like us all he is bound to make mistakes. It's part of growing up. I know you honor your title of Reguba, and the way of the warrior is not an easy one. However, it is no bad thing for a warrior to have a scholar's knowledge. It can bring wisdom to his judgment and shrewdness to his thinking."

Rusvul patted the badger's wide paw. "Yore right, of course, marm, but 'tis no easy thing t'be both father an' mother to a young 'un. I'm more used to fightin' than to parentin'."

Cregga turned her eyes toward him as if she could see him. "Good. Then show us what you are made of out there tonight."

Five sacks of weapons had been collected, blades and short arms that were easily concealed within the curtain bags. Supper was taken early in Great Hall, and before it was served Skipper gave final orders.

"Log a Log, straight after you've eaten, take some Guosim out. Go from the main gate across into the ditch, follow it north a bit, then sweep out an' come back down t'the south woodland fringe. We'll give you a shout when we're ready for yore lot to attack from the rear. Janglur an' Rusvul, you'll lead the party carryin' the sacks of arms. Tragglo an' Gubbio, you'll be in charge of our own Redwallers an' the rest o' the shrews. When you see Janglur'n'Rusvul open the sack o' trinkets, that's when you grab the weapons out of the sacks an' attack. Make sure you shout'n'yell plenty to confuse 'em. I'll grab Dwopple an' pass the liddle 'un safe to Cregga, an' we'll get 'im back to the Abbey. Friar Butty, 'ave the gate ready, an' soon as Cregga an' Dwopple are inside, lock it! I'll come back an' join the rest of ye. 'Tis a scrap I'd 'ate to miss! If all goes well we should be soon bangin' on the gate to get back in, so lissen for us, Friar. Now, Sister Sloey, Melilot an' Nutwing, you take all the elders an' Dibbuns down to the wine cellars. Stay there safe an' silent, you'll be fine. Dann, Song an' Dippler, you three'll stay guard 'ere in Great Hall. Make sure none enters here save Redwallers. The safety of our Abbey's in yore paws. So that's the plan. Good luck to all an' blood'n'vinegar to our foes!"

Ellayo looked uncertainly at Skipper. "But they are so young, Skip. Are you sure they are ready for such a great task?"

"Don't worry yourself, marm. With our plan no rat or fox will find its way inside these walls."

Everybeast pounded the tables and roared approval, though none more than Dann, Song, and Dippler, who were flushed with pride at the enormous responsibility Skipper had bestowed upon them. Badgermum Cregga spoke when the din had died down. "I think a warriors' grace is in order before we eat.

"Fate and fortunes, seasons fair,

Be kind to us this day,

Let nobeast here whom we hold dear,

See comrades borne away.

May the strong defend the weak,

Protect those who take part,

Grant victory of truth and right,

To warriors brave of heart.

Banish the foebeast from our land,

And when new seasons fall,

Leave not an empty space of grief,

Amongst us at Redwall!"

There was silence for a moment, then Florian Duggle-woof Wilffachop added a few lines in a stage whisper that could be heard by all.

"An' if on an empty tummy I'm slain,

Then I'll jolly well never get killed again,

So pass the pudden an' fetch the pies,

An' I'll give the foebeast a rotten surprise!"

Deesum rapped the hare's paw sharply with a spoon. "Mister Florian, what a dreadful thing to say!"

Florian wrung his paw and blew upon it. "Owooch! Save your aggression for the enemy, marm! I say, what a super pasty. Is that all for me, wot?"

Gurrbowl the cellarmole sliced off a wedge of pasty and presented it to the gluttonous hare. "This yurr pasty be's full o' woild garlic, maister. You'm may not loik et, 'tis powerful strong, ho urr!"

Much to the amusement of everybeast, Florian ate a double helping with great relish. "Exceedingly tasty, my good mole. Garlic, y'say? Well, at least I won't have much trouble bowlin' the enemy over. I'll just shout in their faces like this. Whoooooo are yooooooooou!"

Deesum fell back, clutching a serviette to her nose. "Really, sir, do you have to do that?"

Rimrose helped herself to some mint wafers and maple sauce. "Were you ever in a battle, mister Florian?"

Borrakul the otter paused, a ladle half in and half out of a bowl of summer vegetable soup. "Oh, don't start him, marm, please!"

But Florian was in fine form. Piling his plate high with woodland trifle and plum tart, he put on a brave face. "Battle did y'say, marm? I once frightened off a thousand flippin' frogs armed with nought but a pail o' wet blackberries!"

Tragglo Spearback swirled the October Ale in his tankard. "Don't tell such whackin' fibs, you great furry fraud!"

Deesum looked up from a slice of strawberry flan she was nibbling. "Oh, but he did. Let me tell you how it happened. We'd been picking blackberries and had collected a small pailful, but unfortunately baby Dwopple upset them in some mud. Mister Florian took them down to the stream to wash them clean while we set up camp. It was in deep woodlands down southwest. While he was away we were suddenly surrounded by masses of frogs. There must have been a thousand of the dreadful things, and they looked very aggressive and pretty angry with us. I think it was because we had done our washing in a pool-ful of their tadpoles. Anyhow, they had us captured and looked as if they were planning something ugly as a punishment for the whole troupe. Go on, you tell them what happened next, sir."

Florian smiled modestly from behind his heaped platter. "Oh, 'twas nothin' really. Y'see, I'd spotted what was goin' on. Those frog chaps looked rather peeved an' I thought they might harm my troupe. I had the jolly old pail full of water, with the blackberries in itthey'd gotten messed up a bit an' looked rather mushy, but still jolly tasty, wot. So I comes trundlin' up, pullin' the drippin' blackberries out o' the water pail an' scoffin' 'em by the pawful, shoutin' out loud in a fearsome voice. Tadpoles! Haharr, tadpoles (says I), nothin' nicer for lunch than a perishin' pailful o' tadpoles except a nice juicy green frog or two! I say, you chaps, hello there! Saved some frogs for me, wot wot?"

Elachim shook with laughter as he recalled the incident. "Hohoho! You should've seen those frogs scatter. Some of 'em leapt clear over big bushes. They thought ole Florian was comin' to scoff 'em! Hahaha! An' there he stood, cool as y'like, shovin' wet blackberries down 'is face an' pretendin' they was tadpoles!"

Florian mused around a spoonful of trifle. "Hmm, maybe some of 'em were. That stream was full of all manner of small black wriggly things, blackberries, tadpoles, who could jolly well tell? Silly bloomin' frogs. Fancy takin' a perfectly respectable cove like m'self for a cannibal frogscoffer. Tchah!"

Winking broadly at Nutwing, Friar Butty shook his head sympathetically. "Indeed, how could they have made such a dreadful error?"

The lively meal progressed into the evening, with the Wandering Noonvale Companions Troupe rendering one of the songs from their repertoire in three-part harmony, with the hedgehog Runktipp acting as conductor. Log a Log watched Abbey lamplighters illuminating the candles and lanterns around Great Hall as daylight's last gleam deserted long stained-glass windows. Rising silently from the table, he nodded to his chosen group of Guosim. Quietly they checked their rapiers, slings and stone pouches, then slipped off into the gathering night, with the melodious strains of the singers echoing around the hall after them.

"I paint my face or wear a mask,

For I'll be anybeast you ask,

As I wander on my way.

A skillful tumbler bounding high,

A pitiful mope who'll make you cry,

My actor's part I play.

And what care you if I am sad,

Or if ill fortune I have had,

'Tis just a clown, you say.

Aye, just a droll who plays a part,

Who travels in a painted cart,

From dawn to dusk each day.

An actor can be young or old,

Figure of fun or hero bold,

From tears to laughter without pause,

I strut the stage to your applause,

Then I look in my mirror and say, 'Hey,

What fool shall I play today?'"

Chapter 11

Mokkan glanced up at the waning moon settling itself behind a rambling cloudbank. Somewhere off in the woodland a lone nightjar warbled, while a warm breeze stirred sedge and rye grasses on the ditch top. It was a night perfect for ambush. The water rats and Marlfoxes crouched in the ditch bed, spears and blades blackened by firesmoke so they would not betray a glimmer. The vixen Predak moved silent as a night shadow down the ditch to where the main force waited with Mokkan. She gestured back toward the main Abbey gate. "Ascrod and Vannan are in place with their two rats."

Mokkan ventured a swift peek over the ditch top. "No sign of the Redwallers yet?"

Predak scratched her muzzle, betraying a slight nervousness. "Maybe 'tis a trick, perhaps they won't come?"

The Marlfox leader's teeth gleamed in the darkness. He kicked the bundle containing Dwopple, who had been fed a potion of herbs to keep him in a drugged sleep. "Oh, they'll come, take my word on it. Those Abbeybeasts are far too honest and dull to risk any tricks. This mousebabe is their main concern. Being the virtuous fools they are, they'll expect us to play by their rules and return the babe in exchange for a few trinkets. Oafs! They'll learn that dealing with Marlfoxes is like trying to hold a pawful of smoke."

Log a Log stood with his Guosim shrews, well hidden by the bushy southeast fringe of Mossflower. Dodging from fern clump to long grass, the scout Bargle arrived and nodded over toward the ditch. "Vermin are still there, Chief, they ain't made a move back or for'ard. Couldn't get close enough to 'ear wot they was sayin'."

The shrew Chieftain peered through the night toward the ditch. "It doesn't make any difference, mate. We never came to chat with 'em!"

Bargle pawed his rapier hilt thoughtfully. "Y'know, they don't know we're 'ere, but we know exac'ly where they are. May'ap 'twouldn't be a bad idea t'sneak up be'ind 'em an' pick off a few to thin their ranks, eh?"

Log a Log sighed regretfully. "I was thinkin' the same thing meself, matey, but we'd best stick t'the plan an' wait for the signal."

Bargle was weighing the land up. "That's a fair distance to charge, from 'ere across open ground to the sou'west wallcorner. We could become targets in plain view."

Log a Log ruffled his scout's ears fondly. "Then we'll just 'ave t'spread out an' duck'n'weave."

"Aye, an' get ourselves killed fer creatures who ain't even shrews!"

Log a Log turned to the speaker. "I knowed it wouldn't take long fer you to pipe up, Fenno. When all this is over me'n'you are goin' t'take a stroll in the forest, outside where we won't be abusin' Redwall's rules."

Fenno glared at the smaller and older figure. "I'll look forward to it. I'm sick o' you pushin' me around!"

Log a Log's paw shot out and dragged Fenno forward by his ear. "So be it, but until then y'can stay in front where I can see yer. I don't want you be'ind me when the action starts!"

************************************

Dann, Song and Dippler watched as Sister Sloey and Brother Melilot guided elders and Dibbuns downstairs to the wine cellars. Melilot waved to them from the stairwell. "They're all accounted for, you can leave them to us now."

Song saluted him with her greenstone-tipped stick. "Thanks, Brother. We'll be up here if you need us."

Dippler crossed Great Hall to where the main party were assembled. Skipper hid a smile as the small chain-mail-laden figure trundled up. "Yer a fearsome sight, matey. Now don't forget an' bar the door soon as we leave, an' don't lift that bar to anybeast except us when we gets back. Clear?"

Dippler tried a fancy salute and almost tripped over the huge halberd he was toting. "Clear, Skip. I won't even let an ant pass!"

Cregga placed her paw on the wonderful tapestry, touching the spot where stood the likeness of Martin the Warrior. "Guide us to victory this night and let us bring the mousebabe back to Redwall unharmed. Rusvul, Janglur, lead on."

They passed through the main wallgate, treading carefully to stop the weapons clanking in their sacks. Friar Butty and Nutwing held the gates open, wishing the rescuers good luck as they went.

"Let's hope all goes well, Tragglo!"

"Oh, it'll be all right. Just make sure you stay awake, Nutwing."

"Hmm mm, stay awake yourself. You'll need your wits about you out there tonight."

"Aye, we will that. See you later, eh, Friar."

"I certainly hope so, my friend, with all my heart!"

Standing out on the path, the old squirrel Recorder and his owl companion watched the procession start south down the path. They did not even feel the draft from the swirling cloaks of Ascrod and Vannan as the two Marlfoxes, accompanied by the rats Dakkle and Beelu, slipped into Redwall like four dark wraiths. From the shadows of the wallsteps the vermin intruders watched while Butty and Nutwing secured the gates, chunnering away at each other as old friends always do.

"Come on, you ancient featherbag, lift your end of the bar!"

"Hmm mm, I am lifting. Phwaw! This bar gets heavier every day. Are you sure you're lifting your end, old bushtail?"

"Of course I am! Right, hup, two, three! There, that does it. What's the matter now? You've got a face on you like a squashed pie."

"Hmm mm, got something sticking in my leg."

"Let me see. Oh, 'tis only a splinter. Come in the gatehouse and I'll get it out. Stop hoppin' about like a one-legged duck!"

"Hmm. Only a splinter, he says. Feels more like a log to me!"

The trespassers waited until the gatehouse door closed before making their way across the silent lawns toward the Abbey.

Cregga was not too familiar with the outside path, and allowed Skipper to guide her toward the southwest corner where the rendezvous was to take place. "Are they there as they said they'd be, Skip?"

Rusvul's voice murmured low to one side of Cregga. "I see the scum. They're lyin' in the ditch, speartops pokin' up."

Janglur's eyes shifted under their heavy lids. "Right, mate, I sees them meself now. There's that Marlfox climbin' out, two rats be'ind him. They're carryin' somethin', looks like the mousebabe done up in a sack."

The Redwallers halted at the southwest corner. As Mokkan walked forward, the other three Marlfoxes led the water rats out of the ditch in a pincer movement to form a semicircle in front of the Redwallers, standing with their backs to the wall. Janglur nodded curtly to Mokkan. "Well, fox, got a liddle 'un with yer?"

At a signal from Mokkan two rats dumped the sack containing Dwopple in front of the Marlfox. He placed a footpaw on it. "He's right here. Brought the valuables with you?"

Janglur indicated the Redwallers bearing the curtain bags. "We've brought 'em, but y'don't get to see one trinket until you show us the mousebabe unharmed."

Mokkan smiled thinly and bowed slightly to his adversary. "My compliments, you show good sense. Show them the mousebabe."

One of the water rats sprang forward and slit the sack expertly with a small thin dagger. Baby Dwopple rolled out, curled in a ball and snoring uproariously. Mokkan pointed at the curtain bags. "Now let's see the ransom!"

Janglur winked at Rusvul. "Open 'er up, mate!"

Between them the two squirrel warriors ripped aside the ties on the bag of trinkets they were carrying, smashing it in the faces of Mokkan and his companions with a mighty roar.

"Redwaaaaaaallll!"

Then the action began at an alarming rate.

Skipper hurled himself headlong at the ground, snatching Dwopple and laying flat two rats with flailing footpaws and thwacking tailrudder. Redwallers tore open the bags of weapons and went straight at it. Skipper placed Dwopple in the paws of Cregga, and between them they battled their way through a sea of water rats, regardless of slashing blades and stabbing spears. Cregga, who had once been the mightiest of badger Warriors, roared like thunder splitting the skies. With Dwopple's tunic gripped in her teeth she lashed out with both paws, ripping, wounding and slaying everybeast that came within the range of her frightening destructive power, snapping spears like matchwood and bending blades like green twigs. Tragglo Spearback had a large bunghammer, which he swung with both paws, and the rest grabbed what they could, yelling wildly.

"Redwaaaaaaallll! Blood'n'vinegaaaaaar!"

Marlfox axes slashed the air and spears bristled in the night as the vermin pressed in. Anybeast unfortunate enough to fall was trampled flat in the melee. Though they were heavily outnumbered, the Noonvale Troupe were giving a splendid account of themselves. Florian had formed them into a tight circle. Standing at its center wielding a long grass rake, dealing out devastating blows over the heads of his companions to the rats who pressed them in on all sides, the lanky hare boomed out his challenge. "C'mon, babe-stealers, try me for size, wot! I'm the son of the rip-snortin' rat-tippin' Wilffachop, try stealin' me away in a sack an' I'll peel your hides to th'bone an' feed y'to each other!"

As soon as he heard the war cry of Redwall being shouted over by the southwest corner, Log a Log drew his rapier and roared out the battle call of the Guosim shrews.

"Logalogalogalogaloooooog! Chaaaaarge!"

The shrews took off at a dead run across the open land, whirling slings and slashing the air with their short rapiers. Gripped by the heat of the charge, Log a Log sped past Fenno, who had conveniently stumbled and tripped. The brave shrew Chieftain had made a fatal error, and the coward seized his chance. Jumping up, he threw his rapier like a spear, straight into the unprotected back of his Chief.

Log a Log staggered on a few paces then fell, unnoticed in the night by the other shrews who were running eagerly into battle. Sudden panic at the ruthless murder he had committed gripped Fenno. Turning, he fled back into the cover of Mossflower Wood.

Meanwhile, Skipper pounded on the main Abbey wallgate, calling urgently to the gatekeepers. "Open up, mates, we got the liddle 'un. Hurry now, Cregga marm's wounded!"

It took a moment or two for Butty and Nutwing to lift the heavy crossbeam out of its holders, then the gates creaked open. Skipper pushed Cregga and Dwopple inside, baring his teeth in a ferocious grin at the two elders. "Take care of 'em. I'm off back to the fightin'!"

Mokkan knew that his side had the upper paw. Triumphantly he was shouting orders to his Marlfoxes. "Predak, keep 'em pinned to the wall! Gelltor, attack those two squirrel warriors, keep them busy. Ziral, take more rats, stop that hare and his creatures breaking through the cordon!" Swinging his double-headed ax, Mokkan pressed forward savagely, fully intent on inflicting total retribution on the Redwallers, whose courageous but foolish ruse had gone awry.

Chapter 12

The water rat, Beelu, stood on the lawn at the back of Redwall Abbey. His keen eyes soon spotted what he was after, a small dormitory window, below which was a protuberance in the shape of a gargoyle head carved onto a thick spur of sandstone. Beelu unwound a plaited hide rope from around his waist, freeing the three-pronged grapnel hook hanging from it. The water rat gave the tough thin rope a few swings, paying it out as he whirled the grapnel in a wide circle. When he was ready, he released the rope at the crucial point, allowing the hook to soar upward and latch over the gargoyle with a dull clank of metal striking stone. Beelu stood stock-still and waited for several moments, listening intently. When he was sure nobeast had heard the noise he began to climb swiftly, hauling himself up, paw over paw, with both footpaws braced firmly against the wall. Once up to the window he chose a tiny pane. Opening his belt pouch, he drew forth a piece of bark, plastered with a thick compound of honey and soil, which he stuck to the windowpane. There was virtually no sound as he dealt the bark a sharp tap with his dagger handle, but still he paused and waited. After a short time he peeled the bark from the thin glass, shards of broken window sticking to it like crystal. Cautiously the rat loosened more broken pieces from the pane, dropping them to the grass below. When he had enough space to work, Beelu put his paw through the hole he had made and undid the catch. A moment later he was inside the Abbey and on the dormitory staircase.

Dippler sat in the big ornate chair that had been used by all the Abbots and Abbesses of Redwall. The young shrew impudently placed both footpaws on the table and leaned back, lifting the visor of his heavy crested helmet. "Wonder 'ow 'tis goin' out at the southwest corner?"

Dann had his old copper helmet full of hazelnuts, which he was lining up on the floorstones and cracking with light taps of his spearbutt. He winked confidently at the shrew. "I'll wager those Marlfoxes an' their water rats are sorry they ever captured Dwopple. Our side'll be givin' 'em blood'n'vinegar an' their own tails for supper. What d'you think, Song?"

The young squirrel was standing in front of the tapestry, admiring the heroic figure of Martin the Warrior. "Oh, there's no doubt that the vermin are on to a good hiding and a lesson they won't forget. With warriors like your father an' mine, an' Skipper, we can't lose. Just look at this picture of Martin. I'll wager he could have cleared the lot up single-pawed!"

Dann stooped to gather the hazelnuts. "Nobeast could stand against Martin. D'you know, his sword hangs in Cregga Badgermum's room? Funny, though. The elders say that he often appears in dreams to Redwallers, to give advice and warn us if the Abbey's in danger. Wonder why he never appeared this time?"

Dippler tried unsuccessfully to straighten the rusty fold of his chain mail as he sprawled in the big chair. "Oh, I suppose Martin knows we can take care of ourselves. Don't forget, besides yore fathers there's my Chieftain Log a Log an' a fewscore o' Guosim fighters t'deal with. What's that?"

Song turned from the tapestry. "What's the matter, Dipp?"

"Did you 'ear a noise?"

Dann tossed a hazelnut and caught it in his mouth. "No. What sort o' noise was it?"

Dippler struggled out of the big chair. "Sort of like a clanky sound."

Song stole a pawful of Dann's hazelnut kernels. "Hahaha! That'd be yourself, Dipp. You make clanky sounds every time y'move in all that old armor!"

Beelu passed by the three young friends, hugging the shadows at the north end of Great Hall. When he reached the Abbey door he stood still awhile. Song and her companions had their backs to him, but there was no sense in taking chances. Pulling a small flask of vegetable oil from his pouch, he dripped it onto the bolts and hinges, and then, ever cautious, he gave it another couple of moments, listening to the gossip and laughter of the three youngsters out at the hall's center. The locks slid back smoothly, with scarce a sound or scrape. Beelu held his breath as he swung the door slowly open to admit the two Marlfoxes, Ascrod and Vannan, who had been waiting outside with the other rat Dakkle. Beelu placed a paw on his lips, indicating the three youngsters who had been left to guard the Abbey. Dakkle nodded, but Ascrod and Vannan were not paying any attention to Beelu. Their eyes were riveted on the wondrous tapestry that graced the west wall.

Friar Butty inspected the ugly gashes that had slashed through Cregga's paws when she had been grabbing sword and spearblades. He dabbed at them with a cloth that he was dipping in a water pail. "Be still now, marm, please. You'll have to stay here in the gatehouse awhile yet. There's no question of moving you, I'm afraid."

Nutwing spread a curtain across the mousebabe Dwopple, who was still snoring in the armchair. "Hmm mm. Been given lots of motherwort and a smidgen of valerian, I suspect. He'll probably sleep a good while. Mm, nasty! It looks like our badger has lost an ear."

Friar Butty took a peek, drawing in his breath sharply. "Great seasons, so she has, and will you look at this broken arrowhead sunk into her shoulder near the neck? Gracious me, Cregga marm, didn't it hurt you at the time?"

Spread out on the couch the huge badger snorted wearily. "I never felt a thing. In the old days, when I could see, they called me Cregga Rose Eyes, you know. My rage was so great in battle that nothing could stop me. I was possessed by a thing called the Bloodwrath, like most badger Warriors."

The Friar shook his head worriedly. "I'll have to go up to the Abbey. 'Twill take Sister Sloey's herb satchel, sewing twine and clean dressings to patch you up right. Now stay there and don't move!"

Nutwing ambled out of the gatehouse, muttering as he went. "I'll go, hmm, mm, I can still flap these stiff old wings a bit. You stay here, Butty, in case anybeast of ours comes knocking on the gate. I won't be long!"

The old owl hopped and flapped, sometimes touching the ground, other times with the grasstops brushing his talons. Faintly upon the night air he could hear the sounds of conflict from over the outer wall at the southwest corner. Surprised to find the main Abbey door half open, he shuffled in, blinking his eyes against the lantern and candle lights, and walked straight into the backs of Dakkle and Beelu. Still blinking, he called out, "Hmm mm, who's there? Is that Melilot?"

"Nutwing! Look out! Get away!"

At the sound of the owl's voice Song had looked up. She saw the four vermin in plain view, creeping toward them. Ascrod grabbed Nutwing. Using the flapping owl as a shield, he and his cohorts rushed the three young guards.

Song was dashing toward the Marlfoxes, her greenstone stick raised. Dann and Dippler seized their spears and charged after her. Dippler's helmet fell over his eyes, and the monstrous halberd he was lugging slipped sideways. Both he and Dann tripped on the shaft and went sprawling on the floor. Song was almost upon the Marlfoxes, her eyes glinting with the light of battle. Ascrod swung his double-headed ax, slaying Nutwing with a single blow. He pushed the owl's still flapping body at Song, bringing her down. The young squirrel's scream of horror was cut short as the ax handle cracked down on her head. Vannan and the two rats were upon Dann and Dippler before they could rise. Vannan's ax crashed down on the young shrew's helmet, leaving a long dent in it. Dann struggled to get up, but both rats jumped on him, cracking his head back hard upon the floorstones.

Ascrod sped across to the tapestry and began pulling it from the wall. A hubbub came from somewhere below, and the Marlfoxes heard the sounds of Redwallers on the wine cellar stairs. Vannan glanced about at the three fallen friends. "What about these? Shall I finish 'em off?"

Ascrod had pulled a chair across to the tapestry so he could reach the top hooks that held it to the wall. He snarled at his sister. "Idiot, what concern are they to us? This is the most valuable thing we've come on in many a season. Help me with it. Beelu, get outside and open the small east wallgate. Dakkle, lend a paw over here. Move, you fools, those Abbeybeasts will be on our heels in a moment. Hurry!"

At the southwest corner the fortunes of war had changed. Mokkan fought his way back through his own ranks until he was close to the ditch. It was the Guosim shrews who had saved the day. Charging wildly in at the rear of their foes' left flank, they swept all before them. As the enemy turned to intercept the Guosim attack, Skipper, Janglur and Rusvul led a push away from the wall into the ranks of the water rats. Mokkan was shouting now, realizing he had lost. "Retreat! Get across the ditch onto the flatlands! Retreat!"

Rusvul went down with a spear in his side, but Janglur stood over him, swinging his loaded sling. Rusvul was half up when he cried out, "Behind yer, mate, quick!"

Janglur spun like lightning, his whirling sling wrapping itself around the handle of the killing ax that the vixen Ziral was swinging at his head. He pulled sharply, dragging the short double-headed ax from her paws. Quick as a flash, the warrior squirrel caught the ax and swung at Ziral with all his might. That single blow finished the battle completely. The water rats who saw the beheaded Ziral lying on the path set up a wailing scream.

"A Marlfox is slain! A Marlfox is slaaaaaaiiiiinnn!"

In the blink of an eye the remaining Marlfoxes and water rats had abandoned the fight, leaping over the ditch and dashing headlong across the flatlands. Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop waved his garden rake and started after the routed enemy, haranguing loudly. "Villains! Fiends! Pollywogglin' babe-snatchers! You shall feel our wrath, we will pursue you to the very cracks of doom! Come on, you chaps. Chaaaaaarge!"

Skipper grabbed Florian's frock-coat tails and hauled him back. "Leave it, matey, they still outnumber us two t'one. Let 'em go. We got our own to tend back 'ere."

Victory over the foebeast had been won, but at a terrible price. The Noonvale otter Borrakul sat wounded, cradling Elachim's head in his lap, repeating over and over, "My brother won't wake up. Wake up, Elachim, please!"

Runktipp took the slain otter gently from his grieving brother. "He ain't goin' t'wake up, friend Borrakul. Leave 'im t'me."

Janglur hauled Rusvul upright and supported him. "You all right, cully? That's a spear you got growin' out o' yore side!"

Rusvul gasped and winced as Janglur removed the weapon. "Never went in too deep. I'll live, mate. But that's more'n I can say for some who weren't so lucky!"

Skipper stooped over Tragglo Spearback, patting the Cellarhog's face and talking gently to him. "Tragg, come on, ole lad, don't go sleepin' there. We'll get y'back 'ome to a nice soft bed. Wake up now."

The old hedgehog's eyes fluttered open and he smiled weakly. "Slingshot. Must o' been a bit o' metal. It's still stuck in my 'ead."

A heart-piercing cry came from out on the open ground to the south.

"Logalogalogalogalog! Our Chieftain's doooooown!"

Florian, who was helping Runktipp to carry Elachim's body, looked around at the sound of the voice. "Wot'n the name o' seasons is that?"

The Guosim shrew Mayon strode up, ashen-faced. "'Tis the Guosim death cry. Log a Log is slain. Bargle found 'im."

Surprisingly enough it was Florian who restored order and got things moving. "Now there's been terrible battle done here this night, y'know, chaps, but we must attend the livin' first. Right, pick up the wounded an' let's get 'em inside the Abbey. When that's taken jolly good care of I'll organize a party to return for our fallen comrades. Come on now, please, can't sit about here weepin' all night, wot?"

Skipper shouldered Tragglo Spearback, regardless of his spikes. "Mister Florian's right, mates. Come on, let's git inside. There'll be elders an' young 'uns waitin' t'hear whether we won or not."

Emerging from the cloud shadow, a pale moon cast its soft radiance over the dusty path at Redwall's southwest corner, where so much had been won and lost that night.

Chapter 13

Song felt a cool damp cloth bathing her brow as Grandma Ellayo soothed away at the red-hot hammers of pain pounding inside her temples. From somewhere above she could hear her mother's worried voice calling her back to consciousness.

Gradually her eyelids flickered open. She was lying on the floor of Great Hall with her head resting on Rimrose's lap. Janglur hovered anxiously in the background, pacing to and fro. When she spoke, Song's voice came from far off, as if it belonged to some other creature. "Unnhhh! Marlfoxes .. . where are they . . . Nutwing!"

Janglur breathed a sigh of relief. He knelt by his daughter. "My liddle Songbreeze, thank the seasons you got a head as 'ard as yore ole dad's!"

Groggily Song allowed herself to be led to a chair. She sipped a potion which Sister Sloey pressed upon her, gazing over the beaker rim at her two friends. Dippler's head was swathed in bandages, and Foremole Gubbio was showing the dazed Guosim shrew a massive dent in the big helmet he had been wearing.

"Hurr hurr, maister, you'm lucky yon 'emlet saved ee. Yore 'ead was loik to 'ave bin sliced in two. Burr aye!"

Dippler touched his bandaged pate gingerly. "Ooh! It feels like this 'ere lump is another 'ead growin' atop my own. Aye aye, Song, you awake at last? Where's Dann?"

The young squirrel was sitting hunched on a form, bent forward as Brother Melilot tended an ugly swelling at the back of his head. He winced silently as a compress was applied. The good Brother finished binding the damp herbs and patted Dann. "Pity 'tisn't winter. Ice would have worked well on that bump, but there you are, Dann, good as new. You'll live, young 'un!"

Dann stood shakily and stared about, seemingly unable to remember. "Phew! I feel terrible. What happened?"

Rusvul pushed aside two helpers who were dressing the wound in his side. Pulling himself upright on his javelin, the warrior squirrel glared contemptuously at his son. "What happened? I'll tell yer wot happened! You were left to guard the Abbey an' you let yoreself get knocked silly by a couple o' vermin! Nutwing was slain, aye, an' the great Redwall tapestry was stolen from the wall, that's wot happened! Were you playin' more games, solvin' puzzles, was it? No, 'twas crackin' nuts, I see by the shells all over the floor. Well, while you were doin' that the foebeast got in 'ere, cracked yore nut, murdered an Abbeybird an' robbed the very symbol of Redwall. Call yoreself a Reguba. Hah!" Quivering with rage, Rusvul snapped his javelin in two pieces and flung them from him, tears of anger glittering in his eyes. "I wish that spear'd gone right through an' slain me, rather than stand 'ere an' see the Reguba blood shamed by a son o' mine. Coward!" Turning his face from Dann, Rusvul limped off, out to the orchard to sit and brood while he tended his own injury.

Brother Melilot put a paw about Dann, shaking his head in disgust at Rusvul's outburst. "How could a creature say that about his own son?"

Dann tried to keep his face straight as tears poured unchecked down his cheeks. Janglur hurried across and threw a comforting paw around the young squirrel's shoulder.

"Shush now, Dann mate, yore dad didn't mean it. You couldn't 'ave done any more'n you did, all three of yer!"

The Guosim shrew Mayon marched in and threw a salute to Bargle, who was acting as temporary Log a Log. "They left by the east wallgate, Chief. I made shore it was all locked an' secure. Ahoy there, Dipp! Still alive, eh, mate?"

Dippler smiled sheepishly and held up his battered headgear. "Aye, but they killed this 'elmet. Was there any sign of 'em, Mayon?"

The shrew poured himself a beaker of October Ale and blew off the froth before drinking. "No, not a hair. They're long gone. All's quiet out there now, 'cept for mister Florian an' the others. They're puttin' our lost ones t'rest all together, just by the sou'west wallcorner inside the Abbey grounds. 'Tis a sad business, mates, very sad!"

Dippler looked away, scrubbing at his eyes with a spare bandage. "Ah, poor Nutwing. If only we'd been faster..."

"You mustn't blame yourself," said Mayon. "Three young ones against that evil scumyou didn't stand a chance. And you've heard that Log a Log is gone?"

"The Log a Log was like a father t'me. That ole shrew'll live fer ever in my memory. Wish I could get me paws on the vermin who slayed 'im. I'd make the scum pay, matey!"

Bargle looked up, surprised that Dippler did not know the truth. "'Tweren't no vermin that killed Log a Log. He never made it as far as the battle, Dipp. The scum that murdered 'im was Fenno. We found that'n's rapier buried in the Chief's back!"

Despite his injury the young shrew's teeth ground together hard. "Fenno, that big bully, where is 'e?"

Bargle accepted the beaker from Mayon and took a swig. "Nobeast knows. Fenno ran off like the slime that he is."

Dippler drew his rapier and licked the blade as a true Guosim warrior does before making a solemn oath. "Then I'll find Fenno someday, an' when I do this blade'll be wetted with somethin' else. My name is Dippler an' my word is as true as my sword!"

Gurrbowl Cellarmole came bustling down from the dormitories, shaking her head as she counted off bedspaces for the wounded on both paws. "You young 'uns, Dannflo', Dippler an' miz Songer, you'm all in marm Cregga's room whoile she'm a-layin' in ee gate'ouse. Though, dearie oi, oi doan't know 'ow she's goin' to go on when she yurrs about poor Nutwing."

Song's mother took charge. "Right. Come on, you three, upstairs with you and rest those heads."

Janglur took a stroll out to the orchard, where he seated himself beneath a pear tree, next to Rusvul. "So, me ole mate, you reckon yore son shamed the name Reguba?"

Rusvul stared straight ahead into the moonshadowed stillness. "Well, what d'you think?"

Reaching up, Janglur plucked a pear and rubbed it on his jerkin. "For wot 'tis worth, I think yore a great warrior, strong in paw an' brave in war. We carved a few paths in our younger seasons, you'n'me; we're still good pals an' always will be. But let me say this t'you, Rusvul Reguba. I never knew you was a foolish beast until tonight. Our young 'uns are the hope o' the future. They need t'be 'elped, not 'umiliated. It took no bravery to call Dann a cowardbe loves you too much to answer back. So all you did was to bring shame on yoreself by the way you talked to Dann. No, don't answer or argue, jus' think about it, matey. An' that's the advice of a friend." Without further comment Janglur Swifteye arose and walked off, leaving Rusvul to wrestle with the problems of his own stubbornness.

The three friends lay on Cregga Badgermum's big sofa. All three felt terrible about Nutwing. Dann felt it most. It was clear his father's onslaught had hurt him deeply. They sat awhile in silence, heads still throbbing, unable to sleep. Dann's eyes wandered to the sword of Martin the Warrior hanging upon the wall, and suddenly he sat bolt upright.

"Yes! Now I remember!"

Dippler cringed, putting paws to his ears. "Well, you don't 'ave t'shout about it, mate. Wot d'you remember?"

Dann got up and went to the sword, as if drawn to it by a magnet. "When I was knocked senseless, he spoke to me, Martin the Warrior!"

Song was curious. She watched Dann attentively. "Well, don't stand there gawping at the sword, tell us. What did he say to you?"

Dann automatically spoke the words triggered by the sight of the marvelous blade that Martin had once wielded.

"Four Chieftains going forth,

To bring back Redwall's heart,

Vengeance, honor, friendship,

Each will play their part.

The flower bears my blade,

And greenstick, Warrior's daughter,

Join with the shortsword bearer,

And one who lives by water.

Before the herald lark,

Ere night's last teardrop falls,

With none to bid you fond farewell,

Go! Leave these old red walls."

Dippler stared at his two friends. "Sounds great, but what does it mean?"

Song shook her head in despair at the young shrew. "Honestly, Dipp, you're the blinkin' limit. It means we three are going to go out there and bring back the tapestry!"

Dippler thought about this a moment. "But we're not four Chieftains?"

The pretty squirrelmaid shrugged. "Well, I can't help that. If Martin has spoken we must obey. Though you're right, Dipp, there are one or two things about the verse that puzzle me. For instance, Dann said, the flower bears my blade. Who in the name of acorns is the flower?"

"Well, don't go shoutin' it all around the Abbey, but it's me."

Song stifled a giggle at Dann's reluctant confession. "You? I never knew you were called flower?"

Dann looked defiant. "Twas my mother's idea. Dad wanted me named Dannblood, said it was a proper warrior's name, but Mum wouldn't hear of it, she insisted I be called Dannflower. So that's my real name, but Dad an' me shortened it to Dannflor after my mother died. Well, Song, you carry the greenstick an' yore a warrior's daughter. Dipp, you got the rapier, that's a shortsword, so that's the three of us, even though we ain't Chieftains. Who the fourth is, the one who lives by water, huh, who knows? But 'tis plain we three must go!"

Dippler brightened up as the poem's meaning began to sink in. "Aye, Redwall's heart is the tapestry. I understand now, mates. We've got to leave the Abbey before dawn!"

Song interrupted the young Guosim excitedly. "Of course! Listen, here's the first few lines from an old song, one of the first I ever learned, called 'Daybreak.'"

"Before the herald lark,

Ere night's last teardrop falls,

Like dewdrop from a rose,

The rising Minstrel calls . ..

"That's the first bit. Oh dear, I wonder why we've got to go with none to bid us farewell?"

Dann snorted mirthlessly at his friend's innocence. "'Tis obvious. 'Cos they'd stop us, that's why. Huh, imagine my father, he'd say we were off to play some silly games. Then there's yore mum'n'dad an' Grandma Ellayod'you think they'd be pleased to see you wanderin' off into a woodland full o' water rats, Marlfoxes an' who knows wot else?"

Song nodded ruefully. "They'd stop us for sure!"

Dann reached up carefully and took down the sword from its pins on the wall. Martin the Warrior's weapon felt like wildfire in his paws. He held the black-bound grip with its red pommel stone and crosstree hilt, feeling the perfect balance of the lethally sharp blade. Double-edged, strangely chased and patterned down to the perilous tip, keen as an icicle honed by midwinter gales.

Song and Dippler touched their paws to the sword as Dann's voice sounded firm and resolute. "We bring the tapestry back to Redwall Abbey!"

Dippler looked from one to the other. "An' if I can I'll avenge my Chieftain Log a Log!"

Song smiled at them both. "I go with you because you are my friends!"

Dann picked up a broad old belt from the shelf and fastened it across one shoulder to his waistbelt. He thrust the sword through the broad belt, so that it was flat across his back, the hilt showing above his other shoulder.

"Well, what are we waitin' for, mates? 'Twill be dawn soon. Come on!"

_{************************************}

Act 2

Four Chieftans Going Forth

_{Chapter 14}

Camouflaged by the morning suntinged leaves of a horse chestnut tree, the Marlfox Mokkan sat in a fork amid the high branches, watching the scene below on the stream-bank, listening carefully to all that was said. He was cunning and highly intelligent, always cautious to know which way the wind was blowing among his brothers and sisters. Accordingly Mokkan had made it back to the camp shortly after dawn, and finding that he was first to return he hid in the tree and watched the reactions as the rest filtered back to the camp in small groups. First to arrive were Ascrod and Vannan with the rats Dakkle and Beelu. They draped the tapestry over some bushes, prepared a scratch meal and sat back to gloat over their plunder. Predak the vixen came next, heading a group of rats, followed by her brother Gelltor at the head of a second band. Cooking fires were lit, and some prepared food while others tended their wounds. By the time the sun was fully up the final few had returned. Ascrod and Vannan with their two rats were the stars of the day, proudly showing off the wondrous tapestry.

"How's that for a nice bit o' thievin', eh?"

"Aye, we were right inside that Abbey for a good while, wounded three, killed one, an' trotted off with this beauty!"

"Pity we never had time for a proper look around. I reckon Redwall's stuffed with treasures."

"They're not so tough. I slew a big owl, stupid creature!"

"Huh, the three we laid out are prob'ly dead by now too. I whacked a shrew wearin' armor so hard that my ax paw still tingles."

Ascrod stood over Gelltor, smiling whimsically. "So, how did the attack go? Not too well, by the look of you lot."

Gelltor flexed his shoulder to get the movement back in it. Grim-faced, he spat viciously into the fire. "Allag, what's the head count?"

Farther down the streambank the water rat called back to Gelltor. "A hundred an' seventy-three, sire. I'm just numberin' the wounded."

Gelltor lay back, watching the blue-gray campfire smoke wreathing among the shafts of sunlight between the trees. "That's nearly a score of rats lost. Then there was Ziral too!"

Vannan tossed aside her food and stood upright. "What? You mean our sister Ziral was slain?"

"Oh, she was slain sure enough. I saw her head lyin' on the ground. The one who did it was a big squirrel, looked as if he was half asleep. Janglur, they called him. I'll remember that one's name!"

Ascrod stroked the tasseled tapestry border thoughtfully. "A Marlfox slain. High Queen Silth won't be well pleased to hear that. What about our glorious leader Mokkan and his grand plan?"

Gelltor kicked a branch hanging from the fire, sending sparks showering as the dead pine crackled. "Mokkan! Don't talk t'me about him. He left it too late for a quick ambush, wanted to stand round chattin' with the Redwallers. It was them who attacked us. There's no doubt about it, they got some fierce warriors an' they were quick too. For a while there we thought we had 'em, they were outnumbered. But then we were hit from behind by gangs of those Guosim shrews, don't know where they came from. That was when we lost the advantage. Next thing Mokkan's yelling for everybeast to retreat, and we had to run for it like a ragtailed bunch of amateurs. I'm not surprised Mokkan hasn't shown his face around camp yet. Bungler!"

As Gelltor finished speaking, Mokkan hobbled into camp, bent almost double and limping badly, his face creased with pain. He held up a paw for silence before any creature could speak further. "All right, all right, 'twas all my fault. I messed it up, by taking those Redwallers for fools, which they weren't. But hear me! You all fought a gallant fight. I couldn't ask for braver beasts in my command, particularly you, brother Gelltor, and you, sister Predak . . ." Here he paused for effect, shaking his head sadly. "And our dear sister Ziral, so treacherously slain after I had called retreat. How can I go back to our mother Queen Silth and tell her that poor Ziral is with us no more? Gelltor, you were right, brother. I should have listened to you."

The Marlfoxes were slightly bewildered. Mokkan had never spoken like this before, but had always been arrogant and imperious. Vannan tapped the handle of her ax against the tapestry. "It wasn't a total loss. Look what we took from the Abbey."

Mokkan had been looking at the thing for over an hour from the tree limb. But he put on an expression of awed astonishment and approached the object reverently. "You stole this? Wondrous, beautiful, it must be beyond price! Well, congratulations to you. Our mother will be overjoyed to see such a splendid and magnificent prize. At least poor Ziral didn't give her life in vain. But remember what she said here only a day ago. Blood calls for blood. It is the code of Marlfoxes, our law. Redwall and its creatures must pay dearly for our sister!"

Gelltor drew his ax and brandished it in Mokkan's face. "Like I said at first, we should have gone to war!"

Mokkan sat down by the fire with agonizing slowness, biting his lip. "Aye, brother, you were right, I was the fool. Now I am sorely wounded and unfit to lead. Leave a few good rats here with me so that we may guard your plunder. I need rest, I may never walk again with these injuries. Split our forces up between the four of you and take vengeance upon those Redwall scum. Go quickly, before they become confident and begin combing the woodlands for our blood. Surround Redwall Abbey, kill them one by one, with the cunning that is the pawmark of a Marlfox. Snipe at them, starve them by keeping them penned up inside their Abbey, make them prisoners inside their own home!"

Gelltor's eyes lit up, fired by plans of conquest. "We'll besiege them until they crawl out begging to be spared! Then I'll execute the one that wounded me and we'll take revenge on the squirrel Janglur for Ziral's death. Those whom we spare can be dragged back to our island in chains, to serve us!"

Mokkan clasped his brother's paw with feigned fervor. "Ah, ever the wise warrior, Gelltor. But you must hurry and set up your siege while they are unaware of your brilliant plan!"

Within a short time the army was ready to march again, each of the Marlfoxes commanding twoscore water rats apiece, while Mokkan stayed behind to recover and protect the tapestry with a guard comprising the thirteen remaining rats. Mokkan lay back as if he had fainted away, listening keenly to Vannan murmuring instructions to the water rat Beelu. "I leave you here to guard our prize with your life. If Mokkan recovers and tries anything odd, you must hide the tapestry and make your way to Redwall, where you will report to me only!" As the army marched out of camp, Mokkan turned on his side, chuckling under his breath. "Never trust a vixen."

It was close to noontide when Song called a halt at a shady glade in the Mossflower depths. "This looks like a good spot for our lunch. There's some fat juicy berries on those blackberry brambles round the dead oak."

Dippler unshouldered the pack he had loaded from the kitchens. "Lunch? What 'appened to brekkfist, miss? An' jus' one other thing, when d'we sleep? Last time I closed me lids was when I was knocked unconscious. We missed a full night's shut-eye, y'know!"

Song threw her haversack down and began picking blackberries. "Oh, give your little face a rest, Dipp, stop moaning!"

Dann took off his sword and foodpack and sat down gratefully. "Dipp's not moanin', Song, he's arguing. Guosim shrews aren't happy unless they've got something to argue about, right, Dipp?"

The young shrew opened his haversack, fishing out three of Brother Melilot's newbaked scones and a slab of cheese, which he cut into three pieces with his rapier. "I'm not arguin' or moanin'. It's called debatin'. That's 'ow us Guosim get t'be so wise, by debatin'."

Song aimed a berry at him, but Dippler ducked it. "You greedy little hog, I notice you've given yourself the biggest slice o' cheese an' the largest scone!"

Dippler grinned, popping the blackberry Song had thrown into his mouth. "But I need extra vittles, so I can grow big'n'strong'n'stronger, like you two. If I gave you the big bits then you'd both grow bigger'n'stronger an' I'd be liddle'n'thin!"

Song prodded his small round stomach as she passed. "Thin, huh? You're about as thin as a hedgehog who's been locked in a larder for two seasons!"

Dann opened a flask of pennycloud cordial. "Will you two pack in debatin' an' let me have lunch in peace?"

Song watched Dippler split open his scone. He packed the inside with blackberries, closed it and bit into the whole thing so enthusiastically that juice squirted out from either side.

Dann flicked drops of it from his nose. "You greedy savage, you'll never grow any taller, just rounder an' fatter. Don't you Guosim have any table manners?"

Dippler shrugged as he crammed cheese into his mouth. "Mm mm. Course we don't, 'cos Guosim never use tables. How'd y'get a table on a logboat? We got shrew manners, though."

Song wiped her lips daintily on a dockleaf. "And what, pray are shrew manners?"

Dippler glugged down cordial to clear his voice. "Simple, 'tis one o' the first things a shrewbabe learns. Listen.

"If you eat too much you'll sink the boat,

Burst yore boots an' split yore coat,

Just scoff enough so you stay afloat,

'Tis manners, good manners!

If you pinch the vittles from another's plate,

Wait till he's lookin' the other way, mate,

An' when fish are bitin', don't eat the bait,

'Tis manners, good manners!

If yore a shrew o' the Guosim clan,

You must be sure to think of a plan,

To share yore matey's pudden or flan,

'Tis manners, good manners!

Remember to chew everythin' in sight,

If it don't bite back, then get first bite,

An' always take a basinful to bed each night,

'Tis manners, good manners!"

Song was chuckling so hard she nearly choked on a bite of scone. Dann sent Dippler sprawling with a playful shove. "Away, you rogue, your mother never taught you that lot!"

Dippler stole a piece of Song's cheese as he patted her back to restore her breath. He winked cheekily at Dann. "I don't dispute that, mate, I made it up meself!"

"Ssshh! What's that? Get down!"

At Dann's urgent whisper the three friends dropped down behind the fallen oak trunk. There they stayed, silent and motionless, for several moments, after which Song stood up slowly. "What was it you heard, Dann?"

The young squirrel rose, turning his head this way and that as he tried to pick up a trace of the sound he had heard. "I don't know, I heard something, but 'tis gone now."

Not much farther out from where the three were sitting, Gelltor, Predak, Ascrod and Vannan passed with the army of water rats, traveling in the opposite direction, toward Redwall Abbey, to begin their assault.

Dippler finished up the remains of any food his friends had not eaten. Dann shouldered his pack and sword, weighing up the woodland surrounding them. "Which way now, Song?"

The young squirrelmaid walked to the east end of the glade where they had camped. Using the knowledge her father had passed on during their wanderings, she cast about carefully. "This way, I think. The ferns have been disturbed, see, one or two are brokengrass looks flattened too. Ha! Look at this."

Hanging from a broken hornbeam spur was a strand of red thread. Dippler and Dann studied it as Song voiced her thoughts. "That's from the tapestry. At a guess I'd say it was being carried shoulder high by two or more creatures. See here amid the grass, one of them stumbled on this blackberry creeper and narrowly missed walking into the hornbeam tree, but the heavy roll of tapestry they were carrying snagged on that broken branch. They've gone this way."

Dippler wrapped the thread around his paw. "Stupid vermin, they're leavin' a trail a blind moth could follow!"

Dann pressed forward, calling back to the shrew. "Marlfoxes aren't stupid, Dipp. Y'must remember that they were running with a weighty object, it was still dark, an' maybe they thought Redwallers might give chase. Stands t'reason they'd want to put as much space between themselves an' the Abbey as possible."

Dippler pushed the bushes aside roughly. "Murderin' thieves. They won't get away from me, matey!"

Song cautioned her friends. "I suggest from now on that we keep our voices down, don't talk unless 'tis necessary, an' tread quietly. Best not leave a trail goodness knows who might follow it."

The vast woodland was unusually still and silent, even the sporadic birdsong sounding as if it came from far away. Moving quietly eastward through the dense undergrowth, Song and her companions became cautious, realizing that behind the beauty of stately trees and summer-flowering bushes, danger might lurk in the shape of the foebeast.

At Redwall Abbey a brief ceremony had been held over the resting place within the southwest wallcorner. Four shrews, Elachim the Noonvale otter, Nutwing and Log a Log were honored with small gifts, flowers and verses. Friar Butty sighed heavily, wiping his eyes on a spotted kerchief as they walked back to the Abbey, where Deesum and Brother Melilot were preparing lunch. Skipper spoke loud enough for all to hear.

"When we get time, there'll be a good stone marker carved for our pore mates back there, so they'll never be forgot by Redwallers. But fer now, messmates, let's git back t'the business of livin' an' survivin'. Janglur, Borrakul, mister Florian an' meself will move Cregga Badgermum out o' the gate'ouse an' up to 'er room. Bargle, will you an' yore Guosim guard the walls? Arm yoreselves with slings an' bows'n'arrers. Runktipp, stow yoreself in the belltower, an' if the shrews tip y'the signal that vermin are about, be ready to toll the alarm bells. Roop an' Muggle, will yer be kind enough to 'elp Gubbio Foremole an' Sister Sloey check on the wounded."

Sloey fussed with her apron distractedly. "Oh dear, what with lookin' after the Dibbuns an' gettin' things tidy I almost forgot about our injured ones. Still, a good quiet rest's what they need most. We'll take them up some lunch soon as 'tis ready."

A few minutes later, Florian entered the gatehouse and swept off his big floppy hat with a double flourish at the wounded badger. The friends were determined to cheer Cregga and not let her dwell on her sadness, or her injury.

"Ahem, marm, 'tis only m'goodself Wilffachop come to inform ye that your carriage waits without!"

Cregga turned her face in his direction. She was not in the best of moods after an uncomfortable night. "I know 'tis you, hare, and stop waving that hat about, you'll disturb the dust an' have me sneezin'. Now, what's all this about a carriage outside? D'you think I'm a helpless Dibbun?"

Janglur nudged Skipper gleefully as he popped his head around the door. He announced in a loud officious voice, as if talking to nobeast in particular, "One actors' cart waitin' to transport a wounded Abbeybeast. Er, is there a passenger in 'ere?"

The big badger struggled upright from the couch, grabbing a broken spearshaft, which she waved threateningly. "Just let anybeast try to get me into a rickety actors' cart an' I'll give 'em a headache they won't get over for ten seasons!"

Janglur clapped a paw to his mouth to stifle laughter, while Skipper called out in a voice dripping with sincerity, "Ho, marm, 'ow can you say such things? All's we're thinkin' of is yore 'ealth. After you've 'ad a nice ride in the cart we'll carry you up to yore room an' let Sister Sloey feed yer on a nourishin' lunch of 'erb broth an' elderflower water."

That was enough for Cregga. A deep rumble of anger burst forth from the mighty badger. Grabbing Florian and lifting him as if he were a babe, she stumped resolutely out of the gatehouse, with the helpless hare protesting volubly.

"I say, marm, bad form, put me down, wot! Don't stand there grinnin' like ticks at a tea party, you chaps, help me!"

Cregga almost walked straight into the cart, which was drawn up just outside the gatehouse door. Feeling its contours with her paw, she dumped Florian unceremoniously into the seat and gave the cart a mighty shove. It flew off across the lawn, with the hare still yelling.

"Most uncharitable of ye, marm! I'll make a note of this peevish behavior, you can jolly well bet I will! Yowch! Heeeeeelp!"

His pleas went unheard as Cregga raised a threatening paw at the other helpers. "If you've got any sense you'll stay clear o' me. I'll walk back to the Abbey alone. Oh, an' you can tell Sloey if she wants to see another season she'd better not mention herb broth an' elderflower water while I'm around. I need proper food an' the comfort of my own room for a day or two!"

Skipper fled past her, tugging Janglur with him. "Put a move on, matey. Dann an' Dippler an' yore Song 'ave taken over Cregga marm's room, so we'd better git there afore she does an' shift those young 'uns out sharpish like!"

Baby Dwopple was wide awake and none the worse after his ordeal. He elbowed his way in between Blinny the molebabe and Florian at the dining table for lunch. "Where a vikkles? I starven!"

The hare rescued his summer salad and apple pie, scowling at Dwopple. "Have a care there, young wretchlet, I need all the nourishment I can lay me flippin' paws on. Recoverin' from a nasty cart accident, y'know. I say, is that beechnut sponge I see? Chuck it this way, will you, m'good mole, wot!"

"I needs feedin' too. I 'scaped! I fighted off those badbeasts! I frighted mista Stickabee . . ."

Cregga felt her way up the stairwell and gave the unlatched door of her room a light push. As it swung open, the badger entered, feeling about with outstretched paws. "Somebeast's there. Come on, who is it?"

Janglur's reply was tinged with foreboding. "Only me'n' Skipper, marm, but I ain't certain wot's goin' on."

Cregga lowered herself into her favorite armchair as he continued.

"Last night my Song was put in 'ere with young Dann an' the shrew Dippler. You 'eard about wot 'appened to 'em, they was injured. But they ain't 'ere no more, an' Skipper sez that Martin's sword is missin' from the wall yonder."

The badger mused over this information for a moment before replying. "Hmm. It sounds a bit strange, but let's not dash into anything. They must be about somewhere, probably still within the Abbey."

Janglur was not convinced. "But wot if they ain't?"

The door behind them began creaking slowly shut before a slight draft. Skipper pointed to it. "There's some markin's scratched on that door!"

Janglur inspected it closely, telling Cregga what he could see. "Fairly fresh scratches, marm, done quick like with a sharp point. 'Tis only four letters. G an' T an' G an' T."

Skipper opened the door. "I'll go down an' see if they're at lunch, or they might be in the orchard. You two try an' figger those letters out."

Cregga rose from her armchair. "Wait!" Crossing to the door, she pressed her muzzle gently against the scratches, sniffing as she moved over the markings. "G . . . T . . . G ... T! I've a feeling those marks were made hastily by the last one to leave this room, carrying Martin's sword. He or she scratched them. G . . . T .. . G . . . T!"

Janglur nodded as the solution dawned on him. "Aye, that'd be young Dann, tryin' to prove hisself after Rusvul shouted at 'im last night, and the other two've gone with 'im. We'd better get searchers out, Skip, find 'em an' get 'em back inside this Abbey before anythin' bad 'appens to Song an' her pals. I just figgered it out. Those four letters mean Gone To Get Tapestry!"

Skipper stared at the letters. "Of course, that's wot they've done, taken Martin the Warrior's sword an' gone to get our tapestry back. Only beasts with not many seasons under their belts would try a thing like that. Young, brave'n'fool'ardy. Wish my otters was 'ere, we'd get 'em back afore y'could blink. Trouble is that I think my tribe's left the falls an' gone north on the stream down to the seaside. Lots o' good vittles there durin' summer."

Janglur untied the sling from his waist. "Can't stand 'ere jawin' all day. They might be in danger. Come on!"

Bong! Boom! Bong! Boom! Bong!

Skipper dashed past Janglur down the stairs.

"Foebeasts at the gate!"

Chapter 15

By mid-noon Mokkan seemed well on the road to recovery. He had sat up after a long nap and eaten food. The water rats did not stray far from the camp, but sat awaiting his orders. Mokkan made a great pretense of trying to stand, but sank back down again grimacing. He beckoned to the rat Beelu. "You're a good strong beast. Help me up and walk along the streambank with me while I get these paws working properly again."

Beelu helped the Marlfox to stand upright, and Mokkan leaned heavily on him, smiling his satisfaction. "Ah, that's better. Let's try a short stroll downstream, shall we?"

Silently the water rat obeyed, trying hard not to stumble as he guided his charge along the bank, close to the water. It was not long before they were out of sight of the others.

From behind the trunk of a crack willow, Fenno the shrew watched them. Weary, hungry and red-eyed from lack of sleep, he had blundered round Mossflower until he was hopelessly lost. The shrew groveled down in the earth at the base of the willow and tried to meld himself with the tree, not knowing what to make of the incident that followed. He saw the paw that Mokkan had about Beelu suddenly lock around the rat's neck and tighten. Mokkan spoke gently, soothingly, as he slowly throttled the life from his victim. "What'll you tell my sister Vannan now, rat? This is the last lesson you'll ever learn, never try to outsmart a Marlfox!"

Beelu's paws kicked wildly, then his struggles lessened until he finally went limp. Mokkan hurled him into the stream and stood watching the rat's carcass being swept away. He chuckled. "Never learned how to swim, eh? Typical water rat, they're not much use at learning anything!"

Fenno drew in his breath sharply with fear. The Marlfox melted back into the trees and was gone. The shrew scrambled out of his hiding place and threw himself flat on the bank. Thrusting his head into the stream, he drank, sucking in water greedily. Then, to his horror, a strong paw pressed itself down hard on the back of his neck. Fenno tried to lift his head clear of the water, but he could not. His limbs thrashed about helplessly as water rushed into his ears and eyes and up his nostrils. Just before he blacked out he was dragged clear of the stream and smashed up against the trunk of the willow. Fenno found himself staring into the pale, ruthless eyes of Mokkan.

"Where are the rest of your tribe?"

Fenno shook his head as he coughed up water and streambed sand. "Gaaargh! I dunno. Kwaargh! B'lieve me, I dunno!"

Mokkan's double-bladed ax pressed none too lightly between the gagging shrew's eyes. "Oh, I believe you, only a complete fool would dare lie to Mokkan. Now listen carefully to my next question, your life depends on the answer. Are you good at steering and guiding a logboat?"

Not daring to nod with the ax so close, Fenno managed to gasp out, "Aye, Chief, I'm good at it!"

Mokkan's paw was like a clawed vise. It dug savagely into the back of Fenno's neck as he was propelled forward. "Good! I have work for you!"

The twelve remaining water rats rose to attention as Mokkan strode into camp, apparently fully recovered and thrusting a terrified shrew before him. He nodded to a rat. "Keep your spear on this shrew; if he moves gut him! The rest of you, take your weapons to those logboats, but save the stoutest one. Here, shrew, which is the best of these craft?"

Fenno scrabbled across and laid his paw on a boat without hesitation. "This'n, Chief. 'Twas Log a Log's boatbelonged to a Guosim leader."

The Marlfox inspected the fine craft, nodding his approval. "I'll keep this one. You rats, chop the rest to splinters!"

Swords, spears and daggers hacked and slashed at the other five vessels. Mokkan took a braided thong and noosed it about the neck of Fenno, locking off the knot so it could not be removed quickly. He dragged the bewildered and trembling shrew down to the boat he had chosen, bidding him sit in the stern. The Marlfox prized a towing staple from one of the wrecked logboats, knotted the thong end to the staple and drove it into the thick beechwood stern until the curve was embedded level with the wood. Fenno sat with his neck pulled to one side by the short thong. Mokkan smiled.

"If the boat sinks, then so do you. Right, rats, gather up all the supplies and stow that tapestry carefully amidships. High Queen Silth will be happy to see us when we bring Redwall's treasure to her."

Dann went first along the trail, leading his friends in the direction of the noise.

"Sounds like an army of woodpeckers havin' a mid-season feast!" Dippler panted as he ran.

Song wielded her greenstone-tipped stick. "Hardly likely, Dipp. Slow down, Dann, we don't want to rush into the middle of something we can't back out of!"

Dann slowed until they were traveling abreast. "It's stopped! Listen, is that a stream I can hear?"

They skirted the wide pool formed by the end of the inlet. Stooping low and taking advantage of the bush cover, the three friends pressed forward along the deserted streambank. Dippler saw the wreckage of his tribe's logboats first. With a sob of dismay he threw himself down by the shattered prow of the first one.

"Waterfly! 'Tis me ole boat. I paddled that'n many a long day. Wot filthy villain'd wreck a good craft like 'er?"

Song had run ahead to where the main broadstream flowed. She called back to Dippler and Dann. "Hurry, come and see this!" They both dashed up in time to see the surviving logboat speeding out of sight around a distant bend on the fast-flowing current. "A Marlfox and some other beasts, with one bent over in the stern. I'll wager the tapestry's aboard that boat!"

Dippler scrambled up a pine tree as far as he could climb. Clinging on with one paw, shading his eyes with the other, he watched until the vessel was lost to sight. Climbing back down, the Guosim shrew stamped his paws angrily. "We jus' missed the scum. Guess who the otherbeast was? I'd know that stinkin' bully anywhere. It was Fenno!"

"The one that murdered Log a Log?"

Dippler slashed the air with his rapier. "Aye, the very one!"

Dann undid his sword and pack and flung them down moodily. "Not much we can do about it now, mates. They've wrecked the other boats an' left us stranded 'ere. Besides, who knows where they're bound? They could be sailin' anywhere."

Song drew Friar Butty's parchment from her tunic. "That's where you're wrong, Dann. I'll wager an acorn to an oak they're away to the island in the lost lake. We can too. I've got the route right here, listen.

"At the rear of redstone wall,

Find me o'er where breaks the day,

You cannot, shall not walk at all,

Just follow as I run away."

Dippler shrugged and sat beside Dann on the bank. "You've lost me again, Song. You'll 'ave to explain."

Song translated the lines she had read. "The rear of the redstone wall is the back of the Abbey, where we left from. Now, we traveled east, through Mossflower, and day breaks in the east, so we've found it, the river. Obviously we cannot walk on water and the last line tells us to follow whichever way the water runs. That's the way Fenno and the Marlfox have gone, don't you see?"

Dann jabbed his swordpoint into the shallows. "Of course I see, but how d'we do that, Song, eh? The Marlfox wasn't stupid, he smashed the other boats to pieces so nobeast could follow him. 'Tis like I said, we're stranded!"

Song glanced hopefully at Dippler. "No way we could knock up a boat from the bits of broken ones, Dipp? You know about boat-building."

The young shrew shook his head mournfully. "All you could make o' that lot now is a good fire. It'd take me days an' days to make the roughest ole boat, an' that's always providin' we could find the right log an' drag it down t'the waterside 'ere. No, we're stranded, matey."

Song looked amazed at her disheartened friends. "Hah, so you give it all up, just like that? Well, not me, I can follow a riverbank whichever way it flows." She dashed off down the water's edge, shouting, "I'm not letting them get away from me. Oh no!"

After a moment the young squirrelmaid chanced a backward glance. There were Dann and Dippler, running after her.

"Wait for us, mate, wait for us!"

Gelltor stood on the flatlands outside Redwall Abbey, out of range of arrows or missiles. Skipper jumped up onto the battlemented threshold top above the gatehouse and called out to the figure on the sun-shimmered plain. "Well, wot is it today, snipenose? What're you after?"

Gelltor had to cup both paws around his mouth to be heard. "Blood for blood. The one you call Janglur killed a Marlfox. Give him to us, and after that we'll talk."

Skipper scratched his tail in amazement, and winked at Janglur. "Hoho! 'Ear that, matey? They want yer!"

The warrior squirrel's heavily lidded eyes flickered but once. Grabbing the otter's javelin, Janglur leapt on the battlement top above Skipper and threw out a challenge to the Marlfox. "Are you the beast who wants t'meet me? Stay right there, patchbottom, I'll come down an' sort it out with yer, jus' me'n'you!"

Jumping from the wall he made for the wallstairs, only to be stopped by Brother Melilot. "I know 'tis hard for a warrior to resist a challenge, Janglur, but only a fool rushes into an ambush. You'd be slain as soon as you stepped outside our gates. Let Skipper do the talking."

Rusvul Reguba patted Janglur's back. "He's right, mate."

Skipper called out to Gelltor, "Sorry, mate, you can't 'ave ole Janglur. We need 'im at Redwall, to slay any more Marlfoxes who come callin'. So wot now?"

Gelltor pointed dramatically, letting his paw sweep the walls. "So now you must all die as a penalty for the death of a Marlfox!"

As Gelltor let his paw fall there was a brief pause, followed by a loud whirring noise. Skipper flung himself down onto the parapet. "Lay low, 'tis archers!"

A flight of arrows, like angry wasps, buzzed viciously over from all points, most of their shafts thudding into the lawn inside the Abbey walls. Gelltor waved his ax aloft. "Now 'tis war. Your Abbey is surrounded, and we will stay here for as long as it takes to slay you all or make you surrender!"

Skipper reappeared on the wall, holding an arrow. The otter Chieftain's face was a fearsome sight to see. He snapped the arrow contemptuously, tossing the pieces down onto the path. "Hearken, fox, you want war? Then by the thunder you'll get it! Redwallers are peace-lovin' creatures, until they're attacked. Start diggin' yore graves now, 'cos we ain't goin' t'dig 'em for ye!"

Bargle detailed his Guosim back to their wallguard, then followed Skipper and the others down to the gatehouse. Rimrose and Ellayo were waiting for them.

"Did they mention our daughter or her friends?" Song's mother inquired anxiously.

The lazy-lidded eyes smiled comfortingly at her. "No, me pretty one, course they didn't. They don't even know Song an' 'er pals are away from the Abbey, or they would've used 'em to try an' draw us out, ain't that right, Skip?"

"Correct, mate. Those young 'uns 'ave got the sense not to get theirselves captured. They know wot they're doin'."

Rusvul went out. Sitting on the wallsteps, he buried his head into his paws. Ellayo came and sat by him. "No good frettin', Rusvul Reguba, you can't do nothin' about yore son now. We're stuck in 'ere for better or worse, surrounded."

The squirrel warrior wiped a paw across his eyes. "'Twas me drove Dann to it. D'you think he'll ever forgive me for the things I said to 'im?"

Ellayo took Rusvul's paw and squeezed it. "Course he will. Dann's a good young creature, like our Song, he ain't stubborn an' unmovin' like his father. But it takes all kinds, friend, and wot we're goin' to need in the days that lie ahead are warriors, stubborn unmovin' warriors, like yoreself!"

For the first time since the battle at the southwest corner, Rusvul smiled. He stood up and bowed courteously to the old squirrel. "I thank ye for those kind words, marm. When there's fightin' to be done an' warriors need to stand firm, you'll find me the most stubborn an' unmovin' of all. 'Tis just the way I am."

Because of the danger from further volleys of arrows, Skipper requested that anybeast not on wallguard stay inside the Abbey. Florian decided that the time need not be wasted. If the Red wallers were to defend themselves from outside attack they needed drill and weapon training. Knowing nothing whatsoever about either matter, the hare made it all up as he went along. Armed with a motley selection of ladles, window poles, brooms and any domestic item that came to paw, elders and Dibbuns were lined up in Great Hall, together with the Noonvale troupe, and Florian swaggered about in what he imagined was true parade-ground manner.

"Right ho, troops, let's see if we can't knock you into shape, wot! Form y'selves up in four ranks here. Jump to it now!"

Brother Melilot and Diggum Cellarmole were edging away when the hare challenged them. "I say, you two chaps, where d'you think you're jolly well off to? Back in line this very instant!"

Melilot put down the feather duster he had been shouldering. "Excuse us, but you'll have to let us go, that's if you want dinner tonight. We're on kitchen duty."

Florian waved them away hastily. "Oh, right you are. Can't have starvin' troops, wot, wot?"

Sister Sloey and Gurrbowl grounded dustpan and window pole.

"Sorry, 'fraid we've got to tend t'the wounded in the Infirmary."

Florian blew a sigh of frustration. "Off y'pop then, you two, excused drill. You there, Dwopple, I said form four blinkin' ranks, not five. Come up front here, sir, where I can keep my beady eye on you!"

Saluting furiously, the mousebabe charged up front, dragging behind him a long-handled oven paddle, which cracked against footpaws and tripped all who came in contact with it, causing widespread chaos.

"Yowch! Go easy with that paddle, you wretch!"

"Oof! An' you watch that ladle, near put me eye out!"

"Aagh! Me footpaw! Get away, y'villain!"

Florian grabbed the paddle and tried to wrestle it away from the mousebabe, who was quite proud of his weapon and not prepared to give it up without a struggle. As he fought for possession of the paddle, the hare kept shouting orders.

"Steady in the ranks there! Stan' up straight, you chaps, pick up those weapons! No squabblin' at the back, that's an order! Where'n the name o' seasons are you three goin', eh?"

"Hurr, us'n's got to set ee tables furr vittles, zurr!"

"Oh, quite. Gimme that paddle before you lay every-beast low, you fiend!"

"You lerra paddle go, mista Florey. It mine!"

"Mutiny is it? I'll have ye locked up in the vegetable cupboard!"

"Mister Florian, how can you shout so heartlessly at a tender babe after all he's been through? Fie an' shame on you, sir!"

"Deesum marm, don't interfere or you'll be locked up with the blighter. Stand fast there, you lot, I haven't told you to move!"

"Dormitory duty. Beds won't make themselves, y'know!"

"Dishwashing. Brother Melilot needs clean pots'n' pans!"

"Ale an' cordials to be brought up from the wine cellar."

"Candles and lamps need attendin' before evenin'."

Dropping their makeshift weapons, Redwallers scurried off, left, right and center. Florian managed to drag the paddle from Dwopple, who threw himself on the floor, kicking all four paws and howling inconsolably at the loss of his beloved weapon.

"Wahaaaah! Rotten ole rabbit pincha Dwopple's paggle. Wahaahaahaa!"

Deesum picked him up, comforting Dwopple and castigating Florian in the same breath. "There there now, my little soldier, did the cruel rabbit steal your paddle, nasty wicked beast!"

"Madam! Cruel, nasty an' jolly well wicked I may be, but I am a hare, marm, not a rabbit!"

"Indeed, sir? Well, you show all the sense of a rabbit, a two-day-old one. You are not fit to command that paddle you have stolen!"

Florian sat down dispiritedly upon the floorstones, staring about at the empty hall. "Huh! Bloomin' paddle's about all I've got left to command, wot!"

Evening shades were stealing over the western horizon, scarlet sunrays reflecting off the undersides of heavy dark clouds drifting eastward. Skipper ducked low as he led a party of Red wallers along the ramparts. Meeting Bargle, the otter beckoned at the group he was heading. "Evenin', mate. Brought the rest o' yore Guosim an' some Redwallers to relieve the sentries. Wot's 'appenin' out there?"

Bargle took a quick final glance over the parapet. "Oh, nothin' much. They're shootin' off the odd arrow t'keep our heads down, but apart from that 'tis fairly quiet. Wot's for vittles?"

Skipper grinned at the tough little shrew, whose stomach was growling thunderously. "Sorry I never sent any tucker out to ye, but I couldn't chance no pore kitchenbeast gettin' hit by an arrer. Don't worry though, messmate, there's food aplenty for you an' yore shrews: leek'n'celery soup, tater'n'mushroom turnover, sweet cider an' plum duff."

Bargle grimaced longingly as he tightened his belt another notch to quiet his rumbling gut. "Did I 'ear you mention plum duff, mate?"

Skipper winked. "Aye, with sweet arrowroot sauce."

Bargle grabbed the otter's paw fiercely. "Plum duff'n'sweet arrowroot sauce. Don't say another word, Skip, or me stummick'll perish afore I make it t'the table!"

Each shrew who left the wall was replaced by a relief sentry. Skipper did the rounds of the walltop, whispering words of advice and encouragement. He gave special attention to Friar Butty, who was positioned at the center of the north wall.

"Are ye sure y'can keep yore eyes open all night, Friar? Y'won't drop off t'sleep, will you, sir?"

The old squirrel patted his friend's sturdy paw. "I'll be fine, Skip, you just leave me here. Funny, but I don't feel the least bit sleepy tonight. I couldn't face a night alone in the gatehouse without Nutwing. His snores always lulled me into a slumber. Ah, lackaday, I miss the feathery old rascal."

Skipper looked away and blinked. "So do I, Friar. We all miss 'im."

He was distracted by Florian, waving from the battlements over the south wallgate. Skipper scurried across to the hare. "Keep yore ears down, mister Florian sir, or they'll spot yer."

The hare ducked and seated himself, gesturing over the wall. "Somethin' rather odd goin' on down there. Vermin chaps dashin' back an' forth, carryin' bits'n'pieces an' whatnot."

Skipper crouched, alert. "Bits'n'pieces o' wot, sir?"

"Oh, I dunno, twigs, brush, wood an' what have you. Must be out o' their bally minds. They're dumpin' the stuff in front o' the wallgate an' scamperin' off. What'd they want to do that for?" Florian looked around, but Skipper was gone, rushing along the ramparts and down the wallsteps to the small wicker gate in the center of the south wall.

Janglur and Rusvul were already there. The two warrior squirrels had been carrying out their usual patrol of the inner grounds. Skipper joined them, keeping his voice down to a whisper. "What're those vermin up to, mates?"

Janglur watched the door through half-closed eyes as he replied, "Me'n'Rusvul were passin' here when we smelled vegetable oil and pine resin, then we 'eard those rats pushin' dry brush an' wood up against the door. You know wot that means, Skip?"

The big otter nodded grimly. "Fire. They're goin' to try an' burn their way in 'ere! Janglur, go to the wine cellars. Over the door there you'll see three great longbows an' quivers o' big clothyard shafts. Bring 'em 'ere quick. Rusvul, get Gubbio Foremole an' some of 'is crew, fetch buckets too, start fillin' 'em from the pond. We'll put a spoke in their wheel if they wanna play with fire, mates!"

Chapter 16

Night had fallen along the fast-flowing river. Dippler sat at the water's edge, bathing his footpaws. Dann trotted back and tweaked the shrew's ear lightly. "Come on, Dipp, you can't stop here."

The young Guosim shrew let the cold water flow over his weary paws. "Why not? They've got to rest too, y'knowdon't suppose they could travel far on fast water like this at night, too dangerous."

Song walked back to join them. "He's right, Dann. Perhaps we'd better find someplace where we can take a bite to eat and sleep till dawn."

They continued walking along the riverbank until they found a likely spot. Song was loosing her pack when Dann called to her. "Song, come an' look at this. What d'ye make of it?" He was standing in the shallows, hanging on to the trailing branches of a willow and gazing downriver. Song waded in by him. "See, further down the bank. Looks like firelight t'me."

Song peered at the glow in the far darkness. "Aye, 'tis fire right enough. Dipp said they've got to rest too, maybe it's them. Let's go and take a look. Best go armed!"

Steering back from the bank a bit they stole swiftly through the woodland, Dippler and Dann with drawn swords and Song with her greenstone-topped club. Drawing near to the light, they could make out a warm glow, but no sign of the flames that made it. Careful now, they measured each pace, avoiding dead twigs, dry ferns, or anything that might make a noise and betray their presence to the enemy. Song gripped her weapon tightly, whispering to Dann, "What d'you think, is it them?"

A huge, bushy, brown-furred mouselike creature popped up in front of them and began chattering in a shrill voice. "Ah yiss yiss, it could be them, though t'be shore 'tis not. Why, it's only ourselves an' we're not them, unless by them y'mean us, an' if 'tis ourselves yer after, then we're them yiss yiss!"

The three friends were taken aback. Dann was first to recover. Menacing the creature with his sword, he backed it up to a tree, only to have Dippler jump in and place himself between them. "Leave 'im alone, mate. 'Tis a watervole. They're friendly!" The shrew held both paws out and wiggled his nose in a strange greeting to the newcomer. Grinning cheerily, the watervole returned the salute and continued chattering.

"Oh yiss yiss, an' you'll be one o' the Guosim, knew it as soon as I saw yer spiky little 'ead. Up'n'down, up'n'down this river yore tribe used to go alia time, oh yiss yiss. Don't see many Guosim these seasons though, no no, river's too fast for shrews I think. Whoo! Aren't I the terrible one fer gabbin' though. Yiss yiss, y'can spit in the river an' not make much difference to it, that's wot I always say. Yiss yiss!"

Dippler thrust his chin out aggressively at the watervole. "Who d'ye think yore talkin' to, bush'ead? No river's too fast for a Guosim shrew, an' we should know 'cos we've sailed 'em all!"

Still grinning, the vole rattled on. "Ah well yiss yiss, I see what y'mean, so I do, an' yer a fine figure of a shrew so y'are an' I take back any lie I uttered about yer, yiss yiss, so I do, 'cos an egg in a duck's belly is neither under nor over the water an' that's a fact so 'tis, yiss yiss ..." All through his ceaseless babble, the watervole's eyes were fixed greedily on Song's greenstone stick. He was making her uncomfortable, so she quickly hid it behind her back.

"Excuse me, but could I fit in a word sideways? I'm Song, this is Dann and the shrew's Dippler. We're just looking for someplace to eat and spend the night. We don't wish to stand here and be talked to death, if you'll forgive my saying so."

Springing forward, the watervole began shaking Song's paw vigorously. "Oh yiss yiss, yer well forgiven, missie. I'm called Burble. Me muther had a sense o' humor, y'see, yiss yiss. Food'n'rest, is that all yll be needin'? Well, toiler me, the Riverheads can supply that, y'can be sure as an onion's a sour apple with too many coats, yiss yiss!"

Song had great difficulty extricating her paw from Burble's ceaseless pawshaking, but the moment she did the vole shot off like an arrow. They had to follow him at a headlong run.

Why they could only see the firelight's glow soon became clear. It emanated from a great cave hewn deep into the riverbank slightly above water level. Burble bowed to them as they stood panting outside.

"Ah yiss yiss, 'tis only an ould bit of a hole, but 'tis home to me an' has been to my father an' his father before him an' his father before him an' his father before him and his mmffff!"

A big old gray-furred watervole had come out and clamped a paw over Burble's mouth. He nodded at the newcomers. "Y'know, sometimes us Riverheads say that the riverll stop babblin' before young Burble does. Do you all come in now, an' welcome!"

Inside the cave, there were upward of twelve or more watervoles seated round an enormous fire eating bowls of stew. The old one called to them. "Our Burble's brought some travelers for a bite o' supper, so he has."

A fat, motherly-looking vole in a woven rush apron bobbed a curtsy. "Yiss yiss, so he has, sit ye down an' a thousand welcomes to ye!"

Song touched the greenstick to her forehead in a salute. "And a thousand thanks for your kindness, marm!"

Suddenly all the watervoles threw themselves facedown. Paws outstretched, they set up a wailing din.

"Whooooaaaah! Gorramahooogly! D'Leafwood! D'Leafwood!"

"Did I say something wrong?"

Dann looked perplexed at the prostrate River head tribe. "I don't think so, Song. Wonder what a Leafwood is?"

Burble was only too willing to explain. "Do ye not know what a Leafwood is? Ah, 'tis a wunnerful thing, yiss yiss, so 'tis. D'Leafwood is carried only by the highest Chiefs an' greatest vole Warriors who live on the waters. Dippler, yore a water creature, shame on yer for not knowin' of the marvelous Leafwood. Why, meself has known of it since I was born, an' my father an' his father before him an' his father before him an' ..."

Burble caught the look in Song's eye as she raised her Leafwood. He went silent with a meek grin, but only after having the last word. "An' so on an' so on!"

The old gray watervole's voice trembled as he addressed Song. "Ah, a Leafwood could surely make the Riverhead tribe famed an' feared by all. We would give anythin' to be ownin' such a marvelous thing."

The young squirrel's reply was instant. "I would trade it for a good boat, sir."

The old one's face lit up with joy. "Now isn't that a wonderful thing t'be sayin', for 'tis meself who owns the greatest boat ever t'sail on water!"

Dippler gave Song a warning glance, then stepped in to take charge of the trade himself. "Let's take a look at yore boat first, sir. No offense given, I hope."

The gray vole's stomach wobbled as he chuckled. "Yiss yiss, an' none taken I'm sure, for who better t'look at a vessel than the grand Guosim himself? Foller me, young travelers."

Taking them out onto the bank, he passed a lantern to Dann. "Here now, great sword-bearer, hold on to that while I show y'me boat."

Pulling aside clumps of bog willow and saxifrage, the oldster heaved forth a type of oblong coracle, fashioned from osier boughs covered with rowan bark and held together by layers of pine resin. He tapped a paw alongside his snout, winking slyly. "Never leave boats moored out on water for allbeasts t'see, like the dreaded ould Marlfox an' his water rats who passed here t'day. Oh yiss yiss, it pays to keep yer boats hidden!"

Song glanced down the fast nightdark river reaches. "So, they passed here. Where d'you think they went, sir?"

The oldster scratched his chubby cheeks and shrugged. "Hah! They could've bin sailin' t'the moon for all I know, missie. Well, Guosim, wot d'ye think of me boat? A splendid craft, eh?"

Dippler had been inspecting the vessel, and now he said, "Oh, it's not bad. Not good, but not bad, but seen too many seasons' service on this river for my likin', sir. Ah, here we are! This's the boat fer us. My friend'll trade the Leafwood for this 'un!"

The young shrew dragged forth another vessel, far newer than the first, which shone like a honey globule from the many coats of pine resin that had been melted down and applied to its sleek sides. Unlike the other, this craft had a proper pointed bow and butted stern, and patterns and symbols had been painted beneath the resin with colored dyes, giving it the look of a very special boat. The old water vole shook his head and waved his paws furiously.

"Ah no, ah no, y'can't be havin' dat one, sure an' 'tis never the sort o' boat you'd be goin' after Marlfoxes with. No, me bold Guosim, I'm afraid I can't be lettin' y'have that one!"

Song twirled the Leafwood idly. Lantern light gleamed off the round, shiny green stone implanted at its end. She nodded to Dann and Dippler, and all three sauntered off, Dippler smiling back regretfully at the gray watervole. "Pity. We'll just have to trade the Leafwood with some other tribe."

The vole dodged in front of them, hopping back and forth to stop them wandering off. "Whoa now, young buckoes, I've got other boats y'know, yiss yiss, good ones too, let me show yer them!"

Song shook her head. Feigning boredom, she wagged the Leafwood under the old vole's nose. "No, I'm sorry, sir, no other boat will do. That's the one for us, same as this Leafwood is the thing you want. Here, hold it."

The vole took hold of the object reverently, covetous-ness shining in his eyes at the symbol of power. Song judged the moment right.

"Now, d'you want to give it back to me so that when we're gone you'll never see it again? You look to me like a skilled creature, well able to build a boat, probably far finer than that one. What's it to be?"

The gray watervole looked from the Leafwood to the boat, from the boat to the Leafwood and repeated the performance. "Ah, singe me whiskers an' sink me tail... 'Tis a bargain done!" He threw banksoil in the air, stamped his footpaw down thrice and spat on his outstretched right paw. Spitting on their paws, the three friends shook heartily with him. He grinned ruefully.

"A true trade, though you do strike a turrible hard bargain, yiss yiss. That's a Riverhead Volechief's boat y've got there. Light as a feather, true as an arrow, an' faster than a brown trout, there's not a craft on any water that can keep up wid it, let alone try t'beat it. 'Tis sorry I am to part with yonder vessel!"

Dann whacked him heartily on the back. "But now you own the Leafwood, sir, the power is all yours!"

The vole did a little jig of delight. "Yiss yiss, so I do. Every good trade calls for a Comallyeh. So here goes." He raised his head and called in a loud piercing yell, "Comallyeeeeeeeh!"

Startled, the three companions jumped back, as water-voles materialized from seemingly everywhere, all crying aloud, "Comallyeeeeeeh!"

Dippler took their haversacks and tossed them into the boat. "Looks like we're invited to some kind o' celebration, pals!"

Later, the big cave on the bank was packed tight with watervoles, nearly every one of them holding either a little fiddle or a small pawdrum. Song and her friends sat by the fire spooning down thick delicious riverstew comprising cress, watershrimp, turnip, carrot, mushrooms and several other vegetables and herbs that they could not identify. Voles made sure that their beakers of honey and blackberry cordial were never empty. Soon every paw in the place was tapping to a lively jig, well played and heartily sung by the Riverhead tribe.

"Oh there's some fools take a bath each day,

By rollin' in the mornin' dew,

An' others who won't wash at all,

But that ain't me nor you.

Othersome take dry dust baths,

An' reckon that they're clean,

But if a watervole you be,

Well you know wot I mean.

Hoho, yiss yiss, ho hooooooo!

Don't sit'n'shiver beside the river,

Dive right in with a splosh,

Grab hold of a good ole soapwort root,

An' give yoreself a wash.

Scrub hard scrub soft scrub lively, mate,

Good health you'll never lack,

An' if yore paws can't reach around,

A fishll scrub yore back.

Hoho, yiss yiss, ho hoooooo!"

The ditty finished amid great merriment, with the old watervole acting as master of ceremonies, pointing the Leafwood at the three. "C'mon now, travelers, sing for yore supper!"

Dann flushed with embarrassment. "Singin' isn't a thing I do best. You have a go, Song."

Dippler helped himself to another bowl of stew. "Aye, yore a good singer, missie. If they 'ear my voice that ole feller's liable to cancel the bargain."

Song stood up and called out to the musicians, "D'you know the one called 'Green Rushes an' Lilies so Pale'?"

Several of the old volewives threw their rush aprons up over their faces, calling out warnings to the pretty young squirrel.

"Ah sure, don't try it, missie, 'tis too fast!"

"They'll leave yer verses behind, pretty maid, water-voles play speedy!"

Song took a sip of cordial to wet her lips. "Oh, they will, will they? Well, let's see 'em try. Ready, one, two, three!"

Watervole fiddles and drums started the music at a cracking pace. But Song was right up there with them, her sweet voice ringing out.

"Green rushes green rushes an' lilies so pale,

Pray sit ye down friend now an' list' to my tale,

For the rivers flow fast an' the mountains are tall,

An' across the wide moorlands the curlews do call,

Dirry wallaker williker doddle rum day!

Green rushes green rushes an' lilies so pale,

Bring me bread'n'cheese an' some dandelion ale,

An' light up a fire now to warm my cold paws,

I'll sit here all winter till that river thaws,

Skither riddle aye fiddle aye rumbletum hey!

Green rushes green rushes an' lilies so pale,

I've traveled so far over valley an' dale,

Stale bread'n'hard cheese an' the ale isn't here,

An' the fire isn't lit so 'tis goodbye, me dear.

Rowtle dowtle rye tootle I go on me way!

Green rushes pale lilies I'll bid ye good day!

For where I'm not welcome I never would stay!

An' to all you musicians I'd just like to say,

If I've sung out too fast yore indulgence I pray!"

Amid wild cheers and resounding whoops, Song was carried shoulder high around the cave. An old volewife shook a ladle at the pawsore, panting musicians, some of whom had stowed their fiddles and drums away, having been left far behind by the final verse, with Song completing the last four lines unaccompanied. The volewife cackled.

"Haharr, you lot'd better learn t'play proper, yiss yiss. The squirrelmaid sang the paws off'n yer, right sweet and clear too!"

Burble raised his beaker aloft. "Yiss yiss, let's drink the 'ealth of the best bargainer an' finest singer, the bravest-lookin' sword-bearer an' the starvin'est Guosim ever t'come inside Riverhead Cave. Good luck an' fine fortune be theirs wherever they travel. Yiss yiss?"

The watervoles raised their drinks and roared out, "Yiss yiss! Yiss yiss!"

Dippler licked the rim of his bowl. "Any more o' that stew left, matey? No point in lettin' it go t'waste!"

Mokkan lay back in the stern of the logboat, trailing a paw in the water as he issued orders. "Ship those oars an' let her drift, an' pass some vittles back there. Fenno, my friend, keep our boat out in the middle, away from the banks."

The shrew sobbed miserably as he maneuvered a paddle oar in the stern behind the Marlfox. "This noose is stranglin' me. I can 'ardly keep me eyes open, sir."

Stern-faced, Mokkan tested the double-headed ax blade on his paw. "You'd better keep your eyes open, shrew, or I'll shut them for good!"

The logboat drifted on into the calm summer night.

Chapter 17

A luminous white figure, with black pits for eyes and a gaping bloodstained mouth, drifted spectrally around the bedchamber of the High Queen Silth. Its voice seemed to come from afar, like the spirit of one lost upon a dark and distant shore.

"Siiiilth! I see you, I hear you, I will not rest until you are dead. Die, Siiiiilth!"

From within the curtained palanquin, which served her every purpose, Queen Silth's voice screeched hoarse with terror. "Go away! Leave me in peace, White Ghost! Guards! Guards!"

Immediately the bedchamber door started to open, the figure vanished upward. Water rat guards bearing torches dashed into the already brightly lit room. Obediently, they searched every corner as the Queen ranted on. "It was here again, the White Ghost! Where's my daughter Lantur? I want her here right now! Lantur, Lantur!"

In the room directly overhead, the vixen Lantur hauled up a sheet through the wide floorboard joints. It was heavily flecked with fish scales to make it appear luminous, with black charcoal and red dye marking out the face. Folding the sheet carefully, Lantur stowed it in a corner cupboard. The vixen replaced some loose boards in the cupboard's bottom, but before doing so she directed a final spine-chilling moan into the bottom section, which connected with a similar cupboard in the Queen's bedchamber below.

"Ooooohhhhuuuuurrrrrhhhhh!"

Closing the cupboard carefully, Lantur listened to the commotion set up by her mother as it echoed upward.

"There it goes again! I told you, fools, the White Ghost has been in this room, not a moment back. Find it! Lantur! I want Lantur!"

A moment later the vixen strolled calmly into the Queen's bedchamber. She dismissed the guards, who were only too glad to get out of Silth's presence. "Now what is it, Mother? Bad dreams again?"

"Don't talk to me like that. How can I have dreams if I don't sleep? The White Ghost was here again, just before you came in."

"If you say so, Mother."

"I am Queen here, you will address me as Queen! It was here, I saw it through the gauze curtain. You don't believe me, do you?"

"O Queen, if you say it was here then it must have been. But where is it now? Why does nobeast save yourself see this White Ghost?"

"I don't know! Do you?"

"Perhaps, O Queen, it is something from your memory, some enemy you slew long seasons ago, a restless spirit coming back for vengeance upon its killer ..." Lantur narrowly dodged a drinking chalice that was hurled out at her from between the curtains. Silth's voice was shrill with rage.

"Get out! Out! I won't have you talking to me like that!" The vixen bowed and turned to go. Silth subdued her voice to a whine. "No, stay with me, daughter, stay. I fear being alone here. This room is far too ugly. It needs more light, more beautiful things in it."

Lantur bowed again and continued toward the door. "I will stay, Majesty. With me you need have no fear. Wait while I dismiss those fools who are supposed to be guarding your door."

Lantur stepped outside and dismissed the guards. When they had gone she tapped lightly on the far wall. A female water rat emerged from the shadows of the upper stairs. Lantur nodded at her. "Wilce, keep an ear to the floor of my room. When you hear me snore as if I'm asleep, then send down the White Ghost and start moaning. When you hear the Queen scream, pull it back up again."

The rat Wilce bowed to her mistress. "I know what to do, my lady."

Lantur reentered the bedchamber and installed herself in a chair. "Rest, O Queen, I am here to protect you."

Janglur and Rusvul stood in the battlement shadows, watching the moonpatched landscape of open field that skirted half the south wall. Each of the squirrel warriors gripped a massive yew longbow, with a gray-feathered arrow on its string, half as long and heavy again as a normal shaft. Something moved near the woodland fringe.

"Here they come, mate, two of 'em," Rusvul murmured. "Over by that high sycamore."

Janglur followed his friend's direction, sighting the enemy. "Aye, I've spotted 'em now, water rat an' a Marlfox. See the liddle glow? They're carryin' a piece of smolderin' rope. Let 'em get closer afore we take a shot."

The vixen Vannan bent double, taking advantage of every bracken patch and groundswell. Beside her the rat Dakkle kept pace, blowing lightly on the glowing end of towrope to rid it of ash.

"Don't blow too hard," Vannan cautioned him, " 'twill burst into flame. Leave it now until we're at the wallgate."

Dakkle uncrouched slightly as they moved forward, raising his head a fraction to survey the walltop. "Looks fairly quiet up there, marm. We'll warm things up a bit for them soo ..."

As soon as the long shaft struck Dakkle between his eyes, Vannan was off, rolling to one side into a patch of fern. Thunk! Another arrow embedded itself in the spot where she had crouched a moment before. Flattening herself, she wriggled away through the ferns. Two more arrows followed, the last grazing her footpaw. Vannan sprang up then and ran for the trees in a zigzagging rush, tripping and falling flat by the sycamore as a clothyard shaft buzzed overhead like an angry wasp into the woodlands.

Gelltor grabbed the vixen and dragged her to safety behind the tree. "We'll have to think of another way to burn that door down."

Vannan tried to regulate her panting breath. "What about using fire arrows?"

Gelltor looked at her pityingly. "Fire arrows? Did you see the length of those shafts the Redwallers are shooting? You need a great longbow to fire such a shaft. We don't have anything like that. Our bows aren't powerful enoughwe'd be well within their range long before we could loose off a shot."

The vixen settled her back against the sycamore, pouting sulkily. "Well, why don't you think of something, brother? You're supposed to be the one with all the good ideas."

With a wave, Gelltor summoned his rats from the underbush. "No need to look so smug, sister. As it happens I do have an idea, a good one!"

The otter Borrakul made his way over to Skipper from the north wall. "Bargle says that they're rainin' stones an' arrows heavy on the north side, Skip. He thinks they're plannin' some kind o' move over that way, usin' their firepower t'keep our heads down."

From his position by the south wallgate, Skipper called up to Janglur, "Y'hear that, mate? What d'ye think they're up to?"

The warrior squirrel called back confidently, "Hah! That's the oldest trick in the book, Skip. They're tryin' to decoy us away from 'ere so they can burn the wallgate. Borrakul, tell Bargle to sit tight there an' keep low."

Rusvul had spotted movement at the woodland edges. Notching a shaft to his bowstring, he murmured calmly to Janglur, "Here they come again, matey. Spread out this time, about eight o' them, I count. They're goin' to take some stoppin' this time!"

Janglur called to the otter on the ground below. "Best make yore move now, Skip, while they're still far enough away."

Skipper gave the nod to Gubbio Foremole and his crew, half of whom were carrying pails of water. "You ready, Gubb?"

"Say ee word, zurr, us'n's be's never readier, hurr aye!"

Skipper unbolted the wallgate and swung it open. "Go!"

Those moles not carrying pails scuttled outside and cleared the gateway of inflammable wood and brush, heaving it inside, while the rest doused the outside of the gate down with pails of water. Skipper stood out in front of them, his longbow bent with a big arrow resting on its taut string, protecting the moles from attack. Now vermin were about halfway across the open ground. Janglur watched them pause, spread wide in a half-circle. Suddenly the night blossomed with orange flame, as the water rats set burning tow to speartops bound with oily rags and charged for the gate.

"Front'n'center, Skip!"

The otter heard Janglur's warning. Gritting his teeth, he strained the longbow to its limit, letting the middle rat run straight at him. So strong was Skipper's shot that the arrow passed clean through the charging rat, who fell forward upon the burning spear. When the door was clear of brush and soaked well with water and all the moles were inside, Skipper jumped back in and slammed the bolts home. Janglur let his bow drop, unwrapping the sling from about his waist.

"They're close enough for stones now, Rus. Don't need these longbows." He had already dropped one rat before Rusvul could load his sling.

"Come on, scum, my name's Regubaaaaaa!"

Another rat fell to Rusvul's whirling sling. The rest broke and ran back to the tree cover, all except one who carried on charging forward. Seconds before both the squirrels' slingstones laid him low he threw his spear. It thudded, blazing, into the wallgate door. "Pail o' water on a rope, quick!" Rusvul yelled out.

Skipper hurled the rope end up. Rusvul hauled the water pail to the battlements, and then lowered it over the top until it struck the outstretched spear haft, upsetting its contents over it. Rewarded by the hissing sound of extinguished flames, Rusvul winked at Janglur. "No sense takin' chances, even if the door is soaked."

Janglur Swifteye retrieved his longbow and loosed off an arrow. It thudded into the far sycamore trunk, quivering. "Aye, yore right there. Let's turn the tables on 'em an' keep their 'eads down for the night!"

Foremole gathered pawfuls of the bracken and wood that had been intended to burn the gate. "Noice of ee vurmints to gather kindlin' for ee kitchen ovens, hurr!"

Gelltor stayed well back in the woodlands, issuing orders to a rat. "Tell Ascrod and Predak to pull back from the north wall and meet me back here. Vannan, this is no time to be dozing. Liven yourself up, we've got to plan our next move."

The vixen grinned maliciously at her brother. "Oh, given up the idea of burning our way in, have we? What's the matter, didn't your good idea work?"

In the gray hour before dawn, Song came awake. All around her in the packed cave watervoles were snoring and snuffling in the hot stuffy atmosphere. The squirrelmaid shook Dann lightly. Startled awake, he instinctively touched his swordhilt to make sure it was still there. Song gestured for him to make his way outside, then prodded the sleeping Dippler. Rolling over, the Guosim shrew muttered drowsily, "Mmm. Any o' that stew left, mate?"

Song stifled his mouth with a paw, whispering in his ear, "Wake up, Dipp. We're going, if the boat's still there."

Luckily it was. Dippler grumbled as they carried it to the water's edge. "Wot's all the rush for? I liked it in there, that stew was nice."

Dann tugged the shrew's tail sharply. "Keep your voice down an' stop thinkin' of just yore stomach. Song's right, we'd best get goin' while the goin's good. I don't trust that ole gray watervole. He'd like it fine if'n he could hang on to both the Leafwood an' his boat. Those voles seemed friendly enough, but you never can tell."

"Yiss yiss, y'could never tell, 'specially with a crafty ole beast like the Gray One!"

They whirled around as Burble emerged from the willows, carrying a sack of food and two extra oars. Dann eyed him levelly. "Where d'you think you're goin'?"

Brushing past them, Burble slid the boat into the water and threw his gear aboard. He leapt in after it and held the vessel still by grabbing firm hold of overhead branches. "Goin' wid you, yiss yiss, ain't livin' in some ould hole on a riverbank till I got gray whiskers like the rest of 'em. Stir yer stumps an' get in 'ere. We've got to get goin' quickish, afore the River'eads wake up an' find their Swallow gone!"

Dippler was about to debate the point when Song shoved him unceremoniously into the boat and thrust a paddle at him. "Don't argue, Dipp, we haven't got time. Something tells me Burble's right. Let's get away from here. We can argue all you like as we paddle. I'll take this side with you, an' Dann, you an' Burble take the other side. Don't waste time, dawn'll soon be up!"

With the two oars already aboard the friends had an oar each. They steered their vessel out into the fast-flowing center of the river, heading downstream. Wise in the ways of boats, Dippler praised their new craft immediately. Even with their limited knowledge, Song and Dann had to agree with him: the watervole's boat was a traveler's dream. The Guosim shrew watched happily as the boat responded to their paddles.

"Light as a feather she is, mates. This'n don't sit in the water, she skims it, like a bird. So that's why y'called 'er Swallow, eh?"

Burble nodded vigorously, casting worried glances behind. "Yiss yiss, Dipp, now less o' the tongue an' more o' the paddle!"

Song peered suspiciously across at the young watervole, even as she took his advice and paddled harder. "Burble, I've got a feelin' you haven't told us all. The way you talk, anybeast would think we stole the Swallow."

Burble explained in part as the Swallow shot along the river like a glittering arrow. "Ah well, y'see, missie, that Gray One is a real slybeast. The Swallow don't belong to 'im, she belongs to the River'ead tribe, but they all think Gray One traded his ole boat for yore Leafwood, an' he never told 'em different. They'll come after us soon, oh yiss yiss, sure as trout like mayflies. The River'ead'll want their Swallow back."

Dann dug the paddle deep, his jaw tight with anger. "So we're sailin' a stolen vessel. That ole watervole tricked us. He gets the Leafwood, but if they catch up with us we get nothin'!"

The prow dipped and rose beautifully, skirting a rocky outcrop poking from the river as they feathered their paddle blades. "Rotten old swindler!" Song burst out, expressing her dislike of the Gray One.

However, Burble was smiling fit to burst, now that he judged there was some distance between themselves and the Riverhead voles. "Heeheehee! Don't git yore paws in an uproar, pals. Gray One thinks that 'cos he's old it makes 'im smart. But I'm younger an' smarter than 'im by a good stretch o' river. Yiss yiss!"

Song eyed Burble curiously. "How so?"

The little fat creature shook with unconcealed glee. " 'Cos I tricked 'im! When that ole barrelbelly wakes up 'e'll find 'imself clutchin' a stew ladle in 'is paws, not a Leafwood. Yiss yiss, I pinched it back off 'im. Yore Leafwood is inside that sack o' grub I fetched wid me. Heeheehee!"

Song looked sternly at the watervole. "That was very wrong, Burble. Gray One deceived the tribe, but we kept our part of the bargain. Now we've got double trouble!"

Dawnlight had begun filtering over the river in a pale wash of cerise and gold when a cry rang out faintly from behind them, echoing down the tree-shaded banks.

" Waaaaylaaahoooo!"

Burble's chubby face blanched with fright. "River'eads! Paddle for yore lives, pals!"

"But I thought this Swallow could outrun anythin' on the river?" Dann called out as they wielded their paddles furiously.

Burble blew spray from his face. "Mebbe, but they got eight rowers to a boat, an' River'ead voles know these waters a lot better'n you do, squirrel. They'll take every shortcut, fast current an' riverdodge the Gray One can think of. Look for a cutoff. We gotta get off the mainstream!"

Bending their backs, the four young creatures labored at their paddles, mouths wide open as they sucked in air, every muscle and sinew of their bodies throbbing with strain. Behind them the cries of the Riverhead voles grew louder. They were getting closer, gaining on the Swallow with their riverskills and greater numbers. Shaking perspiration and riverwater from his eyes, Dann gestured with his chin, nodding forward to a spot farther upriver on the south bank.

"Looks like a sidestream ahead up yonder!" he gasped out.

But the watervole did not seem to fancy the idea. "No no, not that 'un. 'Tis a dead end, I think, full o' slime an' gnats. "Twould be stupid to go up there, Dann!"

"Waaaaylaaaahoooo! Death to boat-robbers!"

Song chanced a quick glance back up the river, her mind made up. "Head toward that sidestream before they come round the bend and sight us. If 'tis a stupid idea to hide up a slimy dead end then mayhap they won't look there. Don't argue, just do it!"

As they cut across the stream, Burble scattered some supplies from his sack, bread and clay dishes, into the water. "They'll find those in the rapids downstream. P'raps they'll think we was wrecked. Duck yore 'eads an' ship those paddles!"

Weeds, tall rushes and overhanging bush raked their backs as the Swallow glided into the cutoff. The water was dark, murky and fetid; gnats, mosquitoes and all manner of winged pests shrouded the four fugitives. Dippler grabbed some bulrushes and held the boat still. Sloppy green water vegetation swirled briefly on the surface and then settled again, as if no boat had ever disturbed it. Song's heart was pounding like a triphammershe was sure it could be heard if anybeast passed too close. Fighting to get their breathing under control, they flattened themselves in the well of the Swallow. Dippler slapped at a large flying beetle that was trying to settle on his face. Dann shot him a warning glance, and then they heard the Riverhead tribe. It sounded as if they had a dozen or more boats out in pursuit. Old Gray One was in the lead craft, directing them.

"Waaaaylaaaahoooo! Straight ahead, they can't outrun us much longer. Bend yore backs, River'eads, keep t'the middle current!"

"Yiss yiss, but we ain't sighted 'em yet. Wot if they've shot off up'n sidewater, like that'n o'er there?"

"Arr, don't talk daft, vole, they got'n a Guosim shrew wid 'em. That'n 'ud know enough not t'do anythin' so silly. Cain't y'see, 'tis a dead end up there? Has bin fer many a long season!"

"Mebbe we'll overtake 'em at the rapids. Even Guosim shrews ain't so crafty when it comes ter rocks'n'rapids, eh?"

"Aye, y'could be right there. Wait'll I gits me paws on 'em, an' that liddle turnfur Burble. I'll beat 'is brains out wid the Leafwood afore I toss 'im into the rapids wid 'is thievin' friends. Yiss yiss!"

"Flamin' cheek of 'em, stealin' our Swallow like that!"

"Pirates, that's wot they are, matey, river pirates!"

"Well, mark me word, they'll suffer the same fate as any pirate would. Onward, River'eads, straight course ahead now!"

The shouts died away on the still air as the Riverhead tribe paddled downstream. Dann sat up and began slapping at the winged pests that assailed him. "Gerroff! Leave me alone, you rotten villains!"

A big insect flew right into Song's eye, so hard that it caused her to see colored stars. Dippler was tearing at his fur, moaning, "We musta been mad comin' in 'ere to 'ide!"

The boat rocked as Burble performed a little dance. "Ouchouch! I'm bein' et alive! Back out onto the river!"

Song squinched her eye, rubbing hard with a sweaty paw. "No, we can't go out there. 'Twouldn't be long before we'd be running right into the back of them. Let's go a bit farther up this creek. Maybe it won't be as bad farther along."

Swatting and slapping at the insect hordes, they dug paddles into the muddy creekbed and poled the Swallow south up the vile-smelling inlet.

At midmorning they called a halt. Though there were still a few insects about, most of the myriad from the creek mouth had given up following the four friends. Shipping the paddles, they looked around. Fungus bedecked and pulp-soft, dead trees lay across the creek, preventing them from going any farther. The water was black and peaty, with odd bubbles rising here and there, leaving a foul odor hovering in the air. In the bank shallows on one side there was a riot of blue flowers, bit scabious, brooklime, butterwort and skullcap sprouting thick. Dippler moored the Swallow midships to a slender sessile oak on the shaded side of the creek. Song and Burble unpacked apples, some scones and a flagon of cold dandelion and burdock cordial that had been stowed deep in her haversack. Wearily they hauled themselves onto the mossy bank and began eating, groaning as they stretched aching backs.

"Ooh, me paws'll never be the same again after grippin' that paddle so tight, mates. I can 'ardly pick me beaker up!"

Dippler winked at the watervole. "Leave it there then, Burb, an' I'll drink it for ye!"

Dann polished an apple on his tunic. "Whew! That was a narrow escape earlier. Those Riverheads wouldn't 'ave accepted any excuses. We'd be deadbeasts now if they'd caught us!"

Burble lifted the beaker in his cramped paws. "Oh yiss yiss, that's true, pal. Ole Gray One's missin' both the Swallow an' 'is Leafwood. There'll be no mercy in that'n's 'eart!"

Song bathed her eye with a drop of the cool cordial. "No, I don't imagine there would be. Why did you do it, Burble?"

The watervole made a derisory gesture with one paw. "Yah, that ole Gray'n was far too big fer 'is coat. River'eads never 'ad one leader, just a council, but he appointed hisself 'ead of the council an' now 'e calls hisself Chieftain. 'Tain't right. Gray One was alius a cheat an' a liar. Bullied 'is way in, 'e did. Miss Song, 'ere's yore Leafwood. Take care of it."

The young squirrel caught the greenstone-topped stick Burble tossed to her. She looked at it pensively. "All that trouble just for this. Strange, isn't it? Last night we were the best of friends with the Riverheads, this mornin' they're out for our blood. All because of a boat an' a stick."

Dann made a pillow of his haversack and lay back. "Great seasons, but 'tis warm hereabouts, heavy like. Ah well, if we must wait here till the coast's clear I'm goin' to get a bit of shut-eye. See if you can't keep yore debatin' down to a dull roar, will you, mates."

Dippler tossed an apple core into the water. "Good idea, Dann, but don't snore, it keeps me awake."

Song flicked a drop of cordial at the young shrew. "Listen who's talking, the champion snorer of Redwall!"

Dippler opened one eye, murmuring sleepily, "Oh, spare me, missie, I'm only a Dibbun compared to you at snorin'!"

Before another half hour had passed, all four were curled up on the mossy bank, deep in slumber and snoring gently.

Raventail and his band of roving ferrets watched the four sleepers from their position behind the fallen trees across the inlet. Peering slit-eyed between a gap in the rotten trunks, Raventail slowly drew his scimitar, smiling wickedly at the scruffy rabble surrounding him. "Kye arr, brethren. Don'ta dose lukky peaceladen a-lyin' dere? Crool crool shame 'twould be to wakeyup dem, dey on'y be younger beasters. Crool crool shame mesay!"

One of the ferrets slid a long knife from a sling at his back. "Nono needter wakeyup dem. I makem sleeplong fever!"

Raventail's scimitar tip pricked the speaker's narrow neck. "You do dat on'y when Raventail say so. Kye arr, I wanna much much fun wid younger beasters 'fore theybe deathstill!"

Chapter 18

Brother Melilot and Gubbio Foremole had decided, war or no war, they were going to prepare the traditional Redwall Midsummer Feast. What else could fire their tired spirits? Their only problem was that Dwopple, Blinny, Wugger and several other rascally Dibbuns saw no reason why they should not help with the preparations. Foremole put the finishing touches to a great hazelnut and elderberry pudding he was creating, crimping the edges round the basin top with a fork. Brushing the pastry with a mixture of greensap milk and honey, the mole twitched his button nose with pride.

"Yrr, lukkit ee pudden, Bruther. Ee'm be a foine-lukkin' beast!"

Melilot left off preparing his apple and strawberry crumble to admire the mole's delicious-looking pudding. "It certainly is a beauty, friend. You'd best light the back oven to cook one that size. There's plenty of wood and charcoal in the burner, just put a light to it."

Gubbio lit a taper off a candle, shuffled across to the oven and poked the light underneath. It went out. He lit the taper and tried a second time. Still the light went out. Grumbling to himself, the mole lit the taper from the candle again. "Hurr, they'm bain't makin' ee taperers loike they'm used to, burr no!" When he poked the lighted taper beneath the oven a third time, Foremole distinctly heard the puff of air, accompanied by a giggle. Throwing open the oven door, he confronted the Dibbuns seated inside. "Gudd job oi never loighted ee oven, lest we'd be 'aven baked Dibbuns furr ee party, hurr hurr!"

The mousebabe Dwopple dismissed Foremole with a wave of his paw. "Go 'way, moley. Us'n's be's livin' in 'ere now. G'way!"

Brother Melilot came to his friend's aid, a big oven paddle in one paw. "And what, pray, are you Dibbuns doing inside our oven?"

Dwopple wagged a small mixing spoon under the good Brother's nose. "We maken a shrimberry pie. Don't asturb us, it very dissifult!"

Without another word, Foremole and Melilot exchanged glances. Between them they pushed the big wooden loaf paddle beneath the busy Dibbuns and slid them out on to the floor, bowl, mixture and all. Melilot sorted indignant Abbeybabes out from the ingredients. "What's this? Dried watershrimp, blackcurrants, hotroot pepper, pears and radishes? You can't make a pie with that lot!"

The molebabe, Blinny, glared at him challengingly. "Who'm sez uz can't? We'm h'inventerers, makin' et furr ee Skipper!"

Foremole advanced on them with a long baton loaf. "Ruffians! Rarscals! Out, afore oi makes ee into a sangwich!"

The Dibbuns fled, hurling dire threats at both cooks. Rimrose and Ellayo passed them as they dashed from the kitchens. Rimrose shook her head, smiling as she watched the tiny figures scurry off.

"I remember when my liddle Songbreeze was like them. What a pawful that 'un was, I can tell ye!"

Brother Melilot bowed to them both. "Ladies, we can always use some extra help down here. Would you be willing to aid us with Redwall's Midsummer Feast?"

Rimrose returned the bow with a pretty curtsy. "That's what we came for, Brother. I was thinking of making a cheese and celery flan with sage and parsley trimming. My mother is very good at baking blueberry and almond turnovers. Oh my goodness, what's all this mess?"

Melilot threw up his paws in despair. "Those wretched babes were inventing a pie with it, for Skipper."

A slow smile crept across the face of Grandma Ellayo. "Hmm, mebbe we'll finish the job an' serve it up t'that great lump of an otter. He's always puttin' ideas into the young 'uns' 'eads. 'Twill serve 'im right if'n y'ask me!"

Out on the south wall, Skipper was scanning the woodlands, in company with Janglur and Rusvul.

"Haharr, 'tis too quiet, mates. I don't like it, they're up to somethin'. I'd take me affidavit on that!"

Janglur twirled his sling idly, the longbow resting at his side. "All's we can do is t'keep our eyes peeled, Skip. Ahoy, mister Florian, how're things over yore side?"

The Noonvale hare was guarding the east wall center with Borrakul, both of them crouching down behind the battlements. When he heard the squirrel hailing him, Florian beckoned the three comrades over with a silent wave. Curious to know what was going on, they hastened across.

"Keep your heads down, you chaps," Florian whispered. "We've hit on a super wheeze. See this long pole? My troupe use it for their tightrope-walkin' act. Now pay attention. As y'see, me'n'the sturdy Borrakul have tied this dagger to one end. Matter o' fact, we've just finished sharpenin' the jolly old knife on the battlements. Feel that edge an' tell me what y'think."

Skipper tested the blade, pulling his paw away and sucking it. "Phwaw! That's wot I calls sharp, matey. Wot's the game?"

With a nod Florian indicated an unusually tall ash, growing not far from the wall. It was a huge, stately tree. "See that ash? No, don't gawp an' stare like frogs at a fry-up! Merely take a peepette, quickly. Good. Now what did y'see?"

A peepette, as Florian called it, was all that the sharp eyes of Janglur needed. The squirrel saw it right away. "There's a rope tied up there near the top!"

The lanky hare chuckled. "Well done that squirrel! Let me tell you, I've been watching that since midmornin'. Blinkin' water rat climbed up an' tied the rope there. Hawhawhaw! Confounded oaf was slippin' an trippin'. Took the blighter an absolute age to get the bally rope fastened in those top branches. Now they've led it off, back a few trees. Good job you chaps've got me on your side, wot! I've twigged the whole blinkin' plan, of coursedidn't take long for a great mind like mine. Now, lay low an' watch like good chaps. Wait for the fun t'start, wot!"

Three trees back, a rat named Stukkfur perched on the highest limb of an elm. Gelltor and Ascrod stood gripping the heavier branches below him. Gelltor called up to the water rat in a loud whisper. "Is the top of the wall empty, nobeasts there?"

Stukkfur raised himself on tip-paw. He had a good head for heights. "None that I can see, sire, though there's one or two shrews over on the west wall, but they're facin' the open ground in front."

The Marlfox hissed impatiently. "I'm not concerned with the west wall as long as the east wall is clear and empty. Can you see your way clear through to it?"

Stukkfur leaned slightly to one side, balancing capably. "Aye, sire, I can do it from here. 'Tis a straight enough path."

Ascrod did not like being so high off the ground. He clung tightly to the trunk. "Remember, hold the rope as far up as you can. Just swing out and you should go in directly over the battlements. Don't worry if you can't make it first tryas long as it stays quiet you can have a few more goes if you don't manage first time."

Extending his paws above his head, Stukkfur took a viselike grip on the rope and drew in a deep breath, listening to Gelltor's final instructions for the risky plan.

"When you land on the walltop, pull the rest of the rope over, it's plenty long enough. Shin down it, open the wallgate bolts, then get clear and leave the rest to us. Do this right and you'll be well rewarded, Stukkfur, I'll see to that personally. Right, take off!"

From where they crouched below the battlements, Janglur saw the rope go taut. He nudged Florian. "Looks like the fun's about t'start, mate!"

There came a swishing noise, like a wind through the forest, which increased in volume. Borrakul was watching between the battlements. "Hoho, you was right, Florian. 'Ere 'e comes, flyin' like a bird!"

The hare stood up in clear view and leaned out from the walltop, with his long, blade-topped pole at the ready. Stukkfur could do nothing to stop himself. Whipped by small twigs and spitting leaves, he watched in horror as Florian lashed out, the razor-sharp blade severing the rope at a single blow. Then the water rat really was flying free as a bird, not up, but down, though still traveling forward.

"Yiiiiieeeeeee!"

The immovable sandstone blocks of the east wall cut short his flight. Borrakul winced at the sound, but Florian's concern was not for the rat. "Huh! Hope that chap didn't damage the wall, wot!"

From all around the walltop sentries came running to see what the disturbance was about. The Marlfox vixen, Predak, was waiting in the ditch near the west wall. The moment she saw the shrew guards desert their posts she made her move. Climbing stealthily from the ditch, she hurried to the base of the wall, unwinding a slim length of rope with a stone tied to one end. It took four throws before a satisfactory cast was made, but on the fourth try the stone soared upward and over the top of an ornamental spur jutting from the wall, just below the battlements near the northwest comer. Predak caught the stone as it fell. Now she held both ends of the rope in her paws, and she pulled each in turn, testing it. The rope ran free over the stone spur, backward and forward. Moreover, it could not be seen from the walltop unless a sentry were to lean out too far for safety. Leaving the rope with both ends touching the ground, Predak stole away, back to the east side, where Gelltor and Ascrod awaited her. The vixen radiated satisfaction as she made her report.

"Nobeast saw me, the rope's in place, and all we have to do now is get the siege ladder nearby in the ditch, wait for nightfall, then haul it up to the wall. How did the diversion go?"

Gelltor twirled the severed rope idly. "Oh, it worked well enough, but they were onto us, more or less as I expected. That hare slashed the rope with a device he'd thought up. Stukkfur never made it over the wall, but it provided the decoy we needed."

Predak inspected the shorn rope end. "Stukkfur was a good soldier. A fool, but obedient. Pity he's gone."

Ascrod interrupted her. "Surprisingly enough, Stukkfur wasn't killed. He must have a head made of solid bone. Look, there he is."

Stukkfur was wandering in a daze around the rats who were busy building the siege ladder. Both paws were still held high over his head, grasping a long piece of rope, which he stumbled over as he meandered willy-nilly. There was not a single tooth left in Stukkfur's mouth, and beneath the bulging lump on his brow both eyes were black and blue. Bumbling about, the water rat muttered to himself, "Musht drop ober d'wallsh, ohben d'wallgatesh, musht do't!"

Bargle led his relief column of Guosim shrews up onto the walltop, where Florian greeted him huffily. "Well hoorah an' hang out the jolly old flags, relief at last, wot! A chap could fade from the famine, waitin' up here. Have a good night's sleep, did ye? No doubt you breakfasted well, early lunch too by the look of ye. Fiddle de dee, sir, tardy in the extreme!"

Bargle baited the hare unmercifully, yawning, stretching and patting his stomach. "Slep' like a mole an' snored like an 'og, mister Florian. Woke to a wunnerful brekkisthoney, 'ot scones, fresh mint tea an' a little preserved fruit wid meadowcream. 'Fraid there's none left. Very partial t'meadowcream us shrews are. Mind though, we did ask the cooks to save yer some crusts, didn't we, Mayon?"

Turning his face to hide a grin, Mayon agreed. "Ho yes. Why, I said t'the cooks meself, I said, You be sure'n save a crust or two for mister Florian an' 'is gallant sentries, a-guardin' those walls out there while the likes of us are sleepin' safe in our beds an' fillin' our stummicks!"

Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop's ears stood erect with indignation. "Cads the lot of ye, wot! Small spiky-furred grub-wallopin' bounders! Nothin' worse than a grub-walloper. Come on, chaps, form up in a line an' march off smartly. We're not stoppin' in the company of grub-wallopers an' tuck-scoffers!"

As Florian led his sentries off down the wallstairs, Bargle called cheerily to him, "Grub-wallopers I don't mind, but tuck-scoffers is the worst kind o' beasts. You be sure an' 'urry back now, sir!"

Florian's whiskers bristled with outrage. "Unmitigated impudence, sir, confounded brass-necked cheek!"

Deesum popped her head around the kitchen serving hatch to warn the cooks. "Just thought I'd better tell you, mister Florian and the sentries are coming in from the walltops. They look pretty hungry, too!"

Brother Melilot clapped a paw to his forehead. "Oh dear, so they should be! I completely forgot to send out their breakfast this mornin'. They haven't eaten since last night!"

Grandma Ellayo rescued her turnovers from the windowledge on which they were cooling, whisking them out of sight into a cupboard.

"Gracious me! If that ten-bellied hare is hungry we'd best hide everythin', or he'll eat us out o' house an' home, and there'll be no feast at all!"

Rimrose counted her cheese and celery flans. "Florian must've already been here. There's one missing."

Foremole removed his hazelnut and elderberry pudding carefully from the oven, shaking his head at Rimrose. "Bain't no Florian tukk that 'un, marm. Ee Dibbuns beat 'im to et!"

Rimrose busily stowed the flans away, chuckling. "Ah well, who could begrudge those liddle rogues a bite to eat? Hope they didn't burn their mouths, though, these flans are still hot. Oh, Brother Melilot, is that shrimpberry pie the Dibbuns put together for Skipper ready?"

Melilot pulled the pie from an oven. "Done to a turn, marm!"

"Then why don't we serve it to Florian instead?"

Melilot grinned at the thought of Florian tackling the highly unusual pie. "Why not indeed!"

Ascrod sat in the woodland glade the Marlfoxes were using as a siege camp, watching the water rats testing the ladder. It seemed sturdy enough for the purpose. Furrowing his brow, he tapped his paws distractedly on a nearby oak. Vannan slid into camp like a wisp of smoke and seated herself next to her brother, observing his mood.

"You seem out of sorts today. What is it?"

"Arrh, we're getting nowhere with this siege. We'll never get the best of those Redwallersthe luck's on their side every time."

"So, what do you propose we do, brother?"

"Cut our losses and get out of here, back to the island."

"Hmm, I only wish we could!"

"What d'you mean, sister? What's to stop us going?"

"Listen and I'll tell you, Ascrod. While you lot have been playing with ropes and foolish ideas, I took a trip back to see what was happening at our camp out by the river. Beelu was watching Mokkan for me, and I wanted to hear his report. But guess what?"

"What?"

"There's not a trace of anybeast. The camp was deserted, Mokkan and the rats we left with him all gone!"

"Gone? What about the tapestry we stole from the Abbey?"

"Hmph! Of course, that's gone also. Six shrew logboats we had, five of them are smashed to pieces on the bank there. That means Mokkan took the sixth boat, the rat guards, and our tapestry with him, bound for the island, I'll wager."

"The traitor! I'd like to skin the deserter's hide from his back with my ax!"

"Aye, me too, brother, but it looks like we're stuck here for now. We can't go back empty-pawed."

"So, what do you suggest we do, Vannan?"

"Only one thing to do. We put all our cunning into defeating Redwall. Once the Abbey and its treasures are ours, we can force the shrews to build us new boats. We'll fill 'em with treasure, and then play the waiting game. Then one fine day we'll start back for the island, when brother Mokkan's least expecting us, and then there'll be a reckoning, I promise!"