Marlfox

^{Chapter 19}

Martin the Warrior strode through Dannflor's dream. He pricked the young squirrel's footpaw with his swordtip, uttering only one word. "Awake!"

Dannflor woke and sat up. The sword he had been holding loosely in his sleep had slipped free and nicked his footpaw. The first thing he saw was a big scraggy ferret, with a raven's feather braided to his tail, brandishing a scimitar, as he and a band of about twenty other ferrets crept up on the four friends. Dann shouted a warning to his companions. "Look out, ambush!"

Dann had never been so frightened in his life. The ferrets had them outnumbered by five to one. Moreover, they were a savage, murderous-looking bunch, yellow-fanged, heavily armed and red-eyed with blood lust. He heard Song yelling, "Run for it!"

Dann plunged off into the trees, pounding along as fast as his paws would go. He briefly saw the others begin to run. Song was fleet of paw. She ducked two of the vermin and fled into the thickets, but Dippler and Burble were not so lucky. Still sleepy-eyed, they were cut off and brought down by a group of the fastest ferret runners. Sobbing with fear, Dann ran as he had never run before, dodging around trees, dashing through nettlebeds, stumbling and tripping through roots hidden beneath deep, damp loam. Behind him he could hear the wild barbarous screeches of the ferrets, and their swords slashing at the undergrowth as they came after him. Chest burning, heart pounding, breath torn from him in ragged gasps, Dann blundered onward, still clutching the sword of Martin. They were getting closer, shouting now.

"Roundaround tharraway, we's gorrim nowsoon. Kye arrrrr!"

Desperately Dann looked about as he ran, then he saw it. A four-topped oak with thick limbs and an impenetrable profusion of leaves. Dann shinned up it, scraping his paws and barking his shins. Thrusting the sword between his teeth, he swung up through the thick boughs and stowed himself amid a clump of leafy twigs. Moments later his pursuers grouped below the oak, brandishing an ugly array of bladed weapons. They slashed at the bushes, hunting this way and that.

"Whereda squirl gotoo, you'va seed 'im?"

"Karrabah! Twoda squirls gerraway. Quickyquick, dose squirlers!"

"Gorra voler ander shrewbeast. Key arr, goodyerr!"

Scarcely daring to breathe, Dann lay flat on a limb, surrounded by oak foliage. He watched the jabbering ferrets, arguing and thrashing at fern and bush alike with their curved scimitars. When they had searched around awhile, one of them bared his stained fangs and pointed in the direction of the creekbank. "Wego backnow back-now, lotsafun, voler, shrewbeast. Rabbagakk!" Screeching and whooping excitedly, they dashed off.

Half sliding, half scrambling, Dann came down from the oak onto the ground. Burying the sword deep in the soft earth, the young squirrel sank into a crouch, lowering his head into both paws and letting hot tears of shame flood down his face. Coward! His father had been right. He had run like a frightened Dibbun, leaving his friends to the enemy.

It was the sound of his fitful sobbing that led Song to find Dann. Rounding the trunk of the massive oak, she sat down beside him. "Dann, are you hurt? What's the matter?"

Still weeping, he shook his head. "I was frightened, Song, so frightened!"

Song angled her head so that she was looking upward into Dann's face. "Goodness, so was I. I nearly jumped out of my skin."

Dann thrust the swordpoint deeper into the soil. "You don't understand. I've proved my father right. He called me a coward and I am. I deserted Dippler an' Burble, left 'em t'be captured by those ferrets. I was terrified, and I ran!"

Song gave him a hearty shove and sent him sprawling. "Oh, I never. I stayed and got killed defendin' 'em!"

Dann shook tears from his eyes angrily. "Oh, stop talkin' stupid!"

The pretty squirrelmaid smiled and clasped her friend's paw. "I will if you will, Dann. We did the only thing we could do, we escaped. Imagine if we'd stayed and got gallantly slain, now that would've been a great help to Dipp and Burb, wouldn't it?"

Dann wiped his eyes with the back of a paw and sniffed. "Didn't take much bravery to run away, though, did it?"

Song was beginning to lose her temper. She emphasized her words by prodding Dann in the chest with her Leafwood stick. "No, it just took a bit of common sense, mate. We're still alive, y'see, and now we're going back there to be brave when we rescue our two friends from those dirty vermin. Come on, Reguba, there's other things to do with that warrior's sword than stab the earth!"

Dann stood up then, and pulled his sword from the ground. He wiped it clean on his tunic front, gritting his teeth. "I'm glad I've got you for a friend, Song Swifteye.

Let's go an' deal with some vermin!"

Dippler and Burble were hanging upside down by their footpaws from a thick willow bough, swathed practically from neck to tail in vine ropes. Raventail stood in the Swallow, flicking his scimitar in front of their faces.

"Wellawell, likkle frien's, you likin' da drinkmore?"

At his signal, four grinning ferrets leaned down on the bough, causing it to bend so that Dippler and Burble's heads were forced down under the water, which amused the ferrets greatly.

"Givem lotsalotsa drink for longertime!"

"Kye arr, volers an' shrewbeasts be's much thirstynow!"

After a while they released the branch, and the two captives' heads came clear of the murky water. Both were coughing and gagging. Raventail flicked the scimitar closer to their faces.

"Tellame now when youbeasts got 'nuff drinkdrink, den Raventail cutcha loose . . . from you necks, from you necks!"

Burble spat out creekmud and wrinkled his nose at Dippler. "Don't give us much choice, do 'e, mate?"

One of the ferrets by the bough suddenly sighed and flopped down for no apparent reason. Raventail cocked his head quizzically. "Wotmarra wirra dat'n?"

Before he could inquire further, another ferret went down. This time the thud of the slingstone was loud and obvious.

"Redwaaaaaalll! Regubaaaaaa!"

Even as the piercing war cries rang out from the cover of the trees, another two ferrets were laid flat by paw-sized river pebbles. Slingstones began thwacking in, hard and heavy, and the undisciplined remnants of the ragged ferret horde fled. Scrabbling and biting at one another, they clambered over the fallen trees that blocked the inlet and dashed off into the thick forest. Raventail stood swaying in the friends' boat, waving his scimitar and yelling at them, "Kye arr! Getcherback, back 'ere, Raventail norrafraid!"

Then Dann came thundering across the bank, swinging his sword and bellowing like a badger in full Bloodwrath.

"Regubaaaaaa!"

There was no stopping the young squirrel. Like a bolt of lightning he flung himself on Raventail. The force of the impact was so great that both Dann and the ferret lost their swords and crashed into the water. Still hanging upside down, Dippler and Burble watched in awed silence as the warrior blood of Reguba rose in their companion's eyes. Spitting water and roaring, his weapon forgotten, Dann hauled Raventail almost clear of the creek and dealt him a fierce blow. Flinging the screaming ferret from him, Dann dived after his enemy, pummeling with all four paws, kicking, punching and baring his teeth as he thrashed the vermin unmercifully.

"Regubaaaa! Regubaaaaa! Regubaaaaaaaa!"

Song ran out to the bankside to watch the spectacle. She had never seen another creature take such a ferocious beating.

"Dann, leave him alone! He's had enough!"

But Dann was past listening. Grabbing Raventail, he hauled him over his head and flung him bodily into the marshy border of the creek's far side. Black with sludge and unable to stand, the ferret crawled away up the bank. Dann went after him, but he stumbled and fell in the mud among clumps of blue-flowering plants. Swiftly Song untied the boat and leapt in, giving a hard shove against the willow trunk with her paddle. The Swallow shot smoothly out across the dark surface, slowing neatly as it nosed into the blue flowers surrounding Dann. Song passed him the mooring rope. "Here, mate, grab this!"

Total exhaustion suddenly enveloped Dann. Gratefully, he held on to the rope and lay back while Song paddled back to the bank.

The Reguba warrior was hauled dripping onto the mossy sward by Song, and sat shivering as reaction to his wild charge set in. Song found his sword in the shallows.

"Great seasons, what a fighter y'are, Dann. I never saw anythin' like that in my whole life. You were like a Badger Lord in Bloodwrath thereI was sure you were going to slay that vermin bare-pawed!"

"Yiss yiss, but are yer goin' t'talk about it all day an' leave us two pore creatures hangin' 'ere like apples waitin' fer autumn?"

Song turned to the two wet bundles hanging from the willow bough. "Oops! Sorry, pals, I completely forgot you there for a moment. Hang on, I'll soon get you down."

Viewing the scene from his upside-down position, Burble winked at Dann. "Ah well, isn't that decent of the young missie now, she's gettin' round to releasin' us. If'n she don't put a move on with it we'll both have great fat purple heads with hangin' this way!"

The irony of the watervole's remarks was not lost on Song. Smiling mischievously, she crouched with her face level to Burble's. "Hmm, then again I might just leave you to ripen and drop off like two damsons in the orchard. How long is it till autumn, Dann?"

Struggling upright, Dann swung Dippler in so that Song could cut his bonds, and together they lowered him onto the moss. The Guosim shrew had not said a word throughout his ordeal. Now he sat rubbing circulation back into his footpaws as he spoke. "Sleepin' again, I was, same as last time when the Marlfoxes stole my tribe's logboats. Huh! Haven't learned much, 'ave I? Same puddle-'eaded beast as ever I was, that's me!"

When they had cut Burble down, Dann sat by Dippler and put a friendly paw about his shoulders. "Don't blame yourself, Dipp. We were all asleepit wasn't yore fault. Next time you'll be ready, wait'n'see. I think you'll surprise yourself when the time comes. I certainly did. After what took place here t'day I'll never be afraid of any creature livin'. What d'you say, Song?"

The squirrelmaid tossed her Leafwood in the air and caught it deftly. "Don't think 'tis a question of you being afraid anymore, Dann. In the seasons to come, any foebeast facing you will be the one who feels the fear, of that I'm sure!"

As the afternoon wore on the four friends sat on the bank discussing their next move. Burble was not happy about going back to the river. "Tisn't the thing t'do, y'see. That ole Gray One an' the River'ead tribe'll scour that open water fer days yet. Yiss yiss, we'll only be like a butterfly flyin' into the mouth of a hungry crow, goin' straight inter trouble, so we will!"

Song glanced up from the scroll that contained Friar Butty's rhyme, which she had been studying carefully. "You could be right, Burb, the river might be a dangerous place for us. You say we weren't far off some rapids when your tribe were chasing us, is that correct?"

"Oh yiss yiss, missie, the ould rapids are fast an' fierce. 'Tis a good job we never had t'face them so 'tis, yiss yiss."

Song tapped the parchment thoughtfully. "Hmm, it doesn't say anything in this rhyme about going over rapids on the river this early. All it says is:

"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."

Dann poured them the last of the dandelion and burdock cordial. "So, what does that tell us, Song?"

"Think on a bit, Dann. While we were following that river, did we see any streams or creeks running south before this one?"

"No, I'm sure we didn't. There wasn't a break in the bank until I saw this sidestream when they were chasing us. What are you getting at, Song?"

"Well, 'tis just an idea, but I think this is the speechless hidden mouth we were looking for. Dippler, you know about waterways, what's your opinion?"

The Guosim shrew scratched his whiskers. "Mebbe so. The inlet does look a touch like a mouth, an' all that foliage makes it a proper green tunnel. So if yore poem says that's where our ways part, it must mean that is the spot where we part company with the river. Aye, I think yore right, Song!"

But Burble scoffed at the idea. "Ah, will y'lissen t'the wisdom of 'em! 'Ow can words on an ole scrap o' parchment be right? This is a dead end, or is it meself is the only one can see it?"

Song shook the scroll beneath Burble's nose. "Remember, though, this was written many many seasons ago. Couldn't this have been a proper stream before that? Mightn't it only have become a creek after those trees fell and blocked it?"

Dippler butted in. "Ha! But y'forgot sumthin', missie. Aren't we supposed to be chasin' the Marlfox an' his crew?"

Song stood up and stamped about on the bank. She was fast losing patience with the whole affair. "Look, I don't care which way the fox has gone, we can't follow on the open river with Gray One on our tails. Another thing, we know the Marlfox is bound for the secret island on the lost lake. This way we're sure to meet up with him. Burble, where d'you think you're off to?"

The watervole was already climbing over the fallen treetrunks that blocked the creek off.

"Don't git yore paws in a tizzy, bossytail, I'm just goin' to see if yore idea is right, yiss yiss. Well, are you comin'?"

They climbed over the trunks and inspected the ground. Among the clumps of agrimony, sawwort and saxifrage the old streambed was still identifiable by the narrow trickle of water filtering through the logs that had dammed it off. Song splashed about in it triumphantly.

"You see? I told you, this is the sidestream we're supposed to take. Look, it's running south just like the rhyme said it would. What d'you say to that, fatty volenose?"

Burble had only one word to say. "Porterage!"

They stared at him, repeating the word together. "Porterage?"

"Yiss yiss, have ye not heard of porterage? Well, I'll tell ye, me fine-furred friends. It means that we've got to toiler this liddle water trickle till it becomes a stream agin. Yiss yiss, a-carryin' the good boat Swallow upside down on our 'eads!"

Dann started climbing back over the treetrunks. "Stands to sense, Burb. We'd never get anywhere tryin' to float the Swallow in that tiny dribble. Come on, porters, let's try a bit o' porterage. I'm game if you lot are!"

Fortunately the Swallow was a comparatively light craft. Shouldering their packs and placing the paddles flat across their shoulders, the friends turned her upside down, lifted her over their heads, then lowered her onto the outstretched blades. This meant that their heads were inside the upturned boat and one had to follow the other blindly. Dann took the lead, being the tallest, followed by Dippler and Burble, with Song at the rear of the line. It was hard going, hot and stuffy inside the boat, where they were visited by various winged pests. However, they pressed on stoically, trying to ignore the hardships.

Dunk!

"Yowch! Watch where yore goin' up there, Dann!"

"Sorry. 'Twas a big overhangin' branch, didn't see it."

"Yiss yiss, maybe y'didn't see it, matey, but we felt it!"

"Well, so did I, so stop complainin', will yer!"

"Burb ain't complainin', he's debatin'. Creatures got a right to debate, watervoles as well as us shrews. Any'ow, how can y'tell if we're goin' the right way, Dann?"

"Pudden'ead! Because I'm walkin' in the liddle stream an' me footpaws are soakin' wet and soggy, that's 'ow! Song, will y'please sing a ditty or two to shut that pair up. Honestly, talk about gabby. Guosim an' wofflin' watervoles, spare me from them!"

Song liked the way her voice echoed inside the upturned boat.

"Oh how could a hedgehog marry a mole,

He's prickly prickly prickly,

An' live with a squirrel all in a great hole,

Very tickly tickly tickly.

An' what if an otter could dance with a trout,

He'd stay in the river an' never come out.

Pray tell me whatever they'd all think o' me,

Inviting a bumblebee in for its tea?

Why they'd come in and join us for goodness' sake,

For scones an' trifle an' blueberry cake,

Elderflow'r cordial an' strawberry pie,

Oh turn caterpillar to bright butterfly!"

Burble stubbed his footpaw on a stone, which did not improve his argumentative mood. "Tchah! 'Edge'ogs'n' squirrels'n'bumblebees eatin' cake an' suppin' cordial together? Don't make much sense, do it? Yowch! D'yer mind not walkin' on the backs o' me footpaws, missie!"

"Sorry, Burb, and I'm sorry you didn't like my song. 'Tis only an old nonsense ditty my Grandma Ellayo used t'sing to me."

The watervole trudged on unappeased. "Ho yiss yiss, 'tis nonsense all right, no mistakin' that. Grr! Listen, mister wasp, keep away from my nose or I'll eat ye!"

Dann could not restrain himself from laughing at Burble. "Chattin' to wasps now, Burb? Come on, you old grouch, let's see if you can sing us a song that makes sense."

Burble sniffed. "All watervole songs make sense. Lissen.

"A watervole grows like an ould bulrush stalk,

An' learns to swim afore 'e can walk,

Just give 'im a paddle an' lend 'im a boat,

There's nought as nice as a vole wot's afloat.

Go ruggle yore tookle an' rowgle yer blot,

Come floogle yore wattle an' pickle yer swot!

A watervole's clever'n'smart an' he's nice,

'E won't take a boat out onto the ice,

But 'e'll live all 'is life in a comfy ould cave,

An' when 'e dies it'll do fer 'is grave.

So twangle me gurdle an' griddle me twogg,

Right burgle me doodle an' frumple me plogg!"

Dippler tried to keep a straight face as he nodded wisely. "Burgle me doodle an' frumple me plogg? Makes perfect sense. Wot d'you think, Dann?"

A deep booming voice that did not belong to Dann rang out. "Hohohoho! Now I've seen everything a singin' boat! Hoohoohoo!"

The four friends whipped the Sivallow off their heads to see who it was.

The hugest, fattest, most spiky hedgehog that any of them had ever seen was lying in an immense hammock, slung between a beech and an elm. Spikes and quills stuck through the coarse canvas of the hammock, making it look like a monstrous pincushion. He had two baskets, one on either side of the hammock, containing wild grapes and almonds. In his paw he brandished a giant mallet to crack the nuts with, and this he waved cheerily at the travelers.

"Good noontide to ye. Fancy some grapes? A few nuts, mebbe? Come sit an' rest yoreselves, pore liddle waifs!"

Song smiled and waved back prettily to him, commenting to the others, "We could do with a rest. What d'you say, pore liddle waifs?"

With a grunt and a groan the big hedgehog heaved himself out of the hammock and bowed politely. "I go by the name o' Soil. Full name's Sollertree, 'cos I'm the only 'edge'og in these parts. Now wot be yore given names, me liddle h'infants?"

Song introduced herself and her friends. "I'm Song, he's Dann and that's Burble and Dippler. Excuse me, sir, but shouldn't your name be Solitary?"

The big fellow waved a paw airily. "Solitary, Sollertree, wot difference, pretty one, save that Sollertree's the name I gave meself, an' I like it fine. Come, sit ye down on my 'ammock. A more comfy berth y'never found, eh?"

They sat on the hammock's edge, gently swinging back and forth. Apart from the odd spike that had to be removed from the canvas, they all agreed it was very comfortable. Soil smiled with pleasure.

"H'ideal, h'ideal! Now, you 'elp yoreselves to grapes while I crack some almonds for ye. Grow 'em all meself, nothin' better fer puttin' a twinkle to yore eye an' a point to yore spikes."

The grapes were delicious, small but plump and juicy. Soil sat on a treestump, lining almonds up and popping them gently with his giant mallet.

"Isn't it lonely, mister Soil, living alone in the midst of the woods with nobeast for company?" Dann asked.

Soli passed them a great pawful of kernels, raising his bushy brows. "Lonely, wot's lonely? Great shells'n'vines, 'ow could a body get lonely round 'ere, liddle bushtail? I got birds t'sing fer me, sunshine, showers, fresh breezes t'ruffle the hair o' my lovely trees, clear water t'drink . . . Oh, an' Croikle, too!" He reached down by the side of the stump and a small green frog hopped onto his platelike paw. Soli grinned happily. "Croikle, these are me new friends. Bid 'em good noontide, will ye?"

The frog's tiny green throat bulged out. "Croikle!"

This seemed to amuse Soli greatly. "Hohohoho! 'Tis all 'e ever says. Croikle! An' who pray could argue wid that? Lissen t'this. Yore a great fierce beast who's slayed thousands, aren't you, mate?"

The frog gazed at him with its small golden eyes. "Croikle!"

Soli laughed until his spikes rattled, and the four travelers could not resist laughing along with the simple-hearted giant. He passed them more almonds and grapes. "See, my friend's never in a bad mood, never argues or grizzles. Go on, ask 'im a question."

Dippler winked at the little frog. "Soil tells me you ate four barrels o' grapes'n'almonds. True?"

The frog turned its gaze on the Guosim shrew as if it had heard his question and was considering the answer. Then it spoke. "Croikle!"

Soil nearly fell off his treestump laughing. "Hohohoohoohoo! 'E said it weren't four barrels, 'twas six!"

He encouraged the others to question his frog, commenting each time the tiny creature croaked. Song, Dann and Burble took turns.

"Tell me, sir, where d'you sleep at night?"

"Croikle!"

"Well I never. 'E said that 'e kicks me out o' my 'ammock an' sleeps there every night. Hoohoohoohoo!"

"Is it true that frogs like to swim in the stream?"

"Croikle!"

"Wot, swim, says 'e, never! I've got me own liddle boat, he says, mister Soil made it outta an almond shell. Hohohoho!"

"Sir, you look like a fine singer, would you sing us a song?"

"Croikle!"

"Did you 'ear that? 'E just sang 'is favorite song, the shortest one ever written. My my, wot a clever frog. Hohohohoohoo!"

The banter went back and forth until noon shadows began to lengthen. Song was enjoying herself, but she thought it was time they made ready to depart. Soil was busy crushing a grape, removing the pips and feeding it to Croikle as she explained it all to him, but he nodded his head understandingly. "Fear not, liddle 'uns, 'tis all clear to ole Soil. You want to find the stream goin' south so's you can go a-sailin' in yore liddle boat. Now, 'twill take you best part o' two days carryin' the vessel, but lissen t'me, my dearies. I'll carry yore boat an' take you on a shortcut that'll 'ave you onstream in a single day. So rest you now in my 'ome for tonight, an' we'll start out bright'n'early on the morrow. Yes?"

The reply was eagerly given by the friends. "Oh yes please, mister Soli!"

The hedgehog's dwelling was a long jumble of stone slabs, timber, branches and mud chinking built into the side of a rock ledge. It was very homely and comfortable inside, once Soli had stirred up the fire embers and fed them with wood and sweet-smelling peat clumps. Evening cast its calm cool spell over all, and the four friends lounged around the fire while Soli stirred a cauldron of vegetable soup, which stood on a tripod over the glow. Keeping his soft brown eyes upon the task, he began telling of his life.

"I lived 'ere all me life. There were three of us, my goodwife Beechtipp, me liddle daughter Nettlebud an' meself. Ah dearie me, it do seem a long time ago now. Anyhow, it was on a misty autumn time, I'll never forget it. I'd trekked back t'the river seekin' russet apples, as there was none 'ereabouts. Thought I might get a russet saplin' to plant outside our door, so's we could grow our own. Well, on the second day out it came on to storm, when 'twas too far t'make it back 'ome. So I made a shelter on the riverbank below the rapids an' sat it out for three days. Then I returned 'ere, laden wi' apples an' a fine young saplin' tree."

Soil paused, gazing into the glowing peat fire, his face wreathed by aromatic smoke. He sighed heavily. "Aaaaaah, lackaday! Vermin 'ad raided my 'ome. 'Twas all ruin an' wreck, with no sign of the villains. Tracks washed out by storm, y'see. My pore wife Beechtipp lay slain. She were a gentle creature, couldn't fight t'save 'er life. My liddle daughter Nettlebud was gone, taken captive by vermin. My name was Skyspike in those days, 'cos of me great size an' strength. But alas for me, I was never a warrior, couldn't raise my paw to 'urt no livin' thing. Be that as it may, I went mad with grief an' sorrow. Three seasons I roamed far'n'wide, always searchin', seekin' to find my darlin' Nettlebud. Questin', wanderin' o'er woodland, water an' moorland. But my pore baby was gone. Then one day in autumn, when leaves died all redgold an' small birds were flyin' south'ards to chase the sun, I found I'd roamed back to this place. I'll tell thee no lie, young friends, I sat 'ere an' wept for days, thinkin' on wot 'ad been. Then one mornin' I awakened to find the sun shinin' bright an' birds singin' joyous songs to it. A great peace came o'er me an' I no longer wanted to spend my life wanderin' about. That was when I changed my name to Sollertree an' decided to live out my seasons 'ere. I rebuilt my 'ouse, reared liddle Croikle from a tadpole I found in the tricklin' water, an' guess wot?" Soil pointed out of the doorway to a tree. "That saplin' I'd cast away weren't no russet, 'twas a fine young almond tree. There 'tis yonder, see? So 'ere I am an' 'ere I'll stay, an' allow me t'say this. I'll never do another creature a bad turn if'n I can't do 'im a good 'un!"

Song smiled at the huge spiky beast. "You're a fine an' rare creature, mister Soil!"

Chapter 20

Mokkan was up to his usual tricks. As dusk fell, the Marlfox had ordered his crew to put in to shore and make camp, and now he sat in the branches of an elm listening to his water rats talking as they huddled in the lee of their logboat on the riverbank. From his tether in the stern of the vessel, Fenno was urging them to desertion or mutiny.

"Lissen, mates, now's yer chance, while Mokkan's away scoutin' downriver. Make a break fer it while yer still can, mates!"

A rat named Gorm stared dully at the shrew. "We ain't yore mates, so shut yer trap."

Fenno ignored him and carried on. "See wot 'appened today. One of you was bashed agin' the rocks an' drownded gettin' over them rapids, the logboat was near wrecked an' we were almost lost altogether. But did yore Marlfox worry about that, eh? Ho no! All 'e was thinkin' of was that tapestry. Then Mokkan 'ad us breakin' our backs 'eavin' on those paddles to escape the vole crews. You there, I saw 'im whack you a belt wid 'is ax 'andle ter make you paddle faster. Wot sort of a leader is that, I ask yer?"

The rat he was addressing merely shrugged. "We serve the kin of the High Queen Silth. 'Tis no business of yores."

Fenno curled his lip at the water rats scornfully. "Huh! 'Igh Queen Silth! Look at yerselves, soakin' wet an' wearied t'the limit, crouchin' there on a damp bank widout a bite between yer or a fire to dry out by. You must all be crazy. D'yer think yore Queen cares the drop of a leaf about you lot?"

The rat called Gorm banged the side of the logboat to silence Fenno. "All yore fine talk's doin' you no good, Guosim. Don't y'know that Marlfoxes are magic beasts? 'Twould do us no good at all tryin' to run from them. Where would we go? No creature can escape the magic of Marlfoxes."

Fenno strained against the thong that bound him to the boat. "Magic my whiskers! You water rats are really stupid!"

"Not half as stupid as you, shrew."

Fenno actually jumped with shock. Mokkan was standing behind him, holding aloft a whippy branch he had cut from the elm with his ax. The shrew covered his head with both paws, crouching in a ball as blows rained heavily on him.

"Pain is the best teacher for stupid idiots. Marlfoxes are magic! Say it! Say it!"

"Aggh! Yeeeagh! Marlfoxes are magic, sire! Yaaargh!"

Mokkan threw the broken branch savagely at Fenno's head and kicked his sobbing prisoner brutally. "You've learned a valuable lesson, oaf. We've got all nightshall I cut myself another switch to remind you of it, eh?"

Crouching in the damp logboat bottom, Fenno wept brokenly. "Mercy, sire, please. Marlfoxes are magic! I won't forget, sire!"

Mokkan lost interest in his captive. Turning to Gorm, he said, "Break out supplies and light a small fire. Keep it sheltered in the lee of the boat and don't let it smoke."

The water rat bowed. "It shall be done as y'say, sire."

Mokkan stroked the intricately embroidered tapestry roll. "Keep this dry and in perfect condition. High Queen Silth would be angry if it were damaged."

Queen Silth was distracting herself by paying the slaves a visit. As her palanquin was borne out to the rear courtyard she made small mewling noises of disgust as she watched the steaming mess of porridge made from maize and chopped roots being delivered to the bars of the pen. Hungrily the starving slaves grabbed pawfuls and gulped it down. Ullig cracked his whip and snarled, "Be still in the presence of her Majesty, High Queen Silth!"

Immediately they quit feeding and huddled together in the darkness of the pen's back wall. Alarmed by the moody and unpredictable Queen's visit, they did not know what to expect. Athrak and his magpies strutted about in front of the bars, their wicked, beady eyes watching the pitiful prisoners. Rat guards stood stiffly at attention, the odd quiver of a spear denoting that they were as apprehensive as the slaves at Silth's unexpected appearance. All eyes were on the silk-draped conveyance. Servants hurried to place torches and lanterns all around the palanquin. The stillness was ominous, as if every creature present was afraid to breathe. Nothing moved in the awful silence except for the eerie dancing shadows cast by the flickering torches. Harsh and grating, the High Queen's voice rasped out from behind the silken veils.

"Are they working hard for the food we give them?"

Ullig, the rat Captain in charge of all slaves, replied stiffly, "Yes, yer Majesty. Some in the fields'n'orchards an' others in yore workplace makin' things of beauty to grace yore chambers!"

There was a further silence, then Silth spoke once more. "Hmm. Don't let them get fat and lazy, Captain. Remind them of the rules on my island."

Ullig faced the cages and shouted out the rules, veins bulging from his thick neck as he did so. "Work an' you live, an' remember there is no escape from 'ere! Disobey an' you get fed t'the Teeth o' the Deeps. This is the rule of 'er Majesty, Tgh Queen Silth. You stay alive only by 'er mercy!"

There was a short silence, then the voice from within the palanquin called out petulantly, "Take me back inside, to my chambers. I don't like it out here, there's only ugliness, nothing nice. I must be surrounded by beauty. Death will never visit where beauty reigns!"

Lifting the palanquin carefully, the bearers marched off with measured tread, halting suddenly as Silth screeched, "Stop! There it is, at the upper chamber windows! Don't you see it, fools? The White Ghost! Captain, take a troop up there quickly and slay it. Hurry!"

Floating back and forth across the brightly lit window of an upper chamber, the fearful white apparition fluttered, howling.

"Queeeeen Siiiiiilth, Dark Forest awaits your spirit. Death is all you have left now. Ooooooooohhhhhh!"

Ullig clattered off at the head of his troops, knowing that the specter would be gone when he reached the room upstairs. It was not the first time something like this had occurred.

Lantur stowed the "White Ghost" in its corner cupboard and poured two goblets of plum wine. Sliding one across to the rat Wilce, the Marlfox smiled maliciously, listening to the guards hastening up the stairs.

"She'll have frightened herself to death by winter, Wilce, and then we'll prepare a deadly reception for my returning brothers and sisters. Give me a toast, Wilce!"

The female water rat nodded over the rim of her goblet. "To High Queen Lantur, next ruler of this island and all the lake surrounding it. Long life and undisturbed sleep!"

Lantur quaffed her goblet's contents. "Aye, I'll drink to that. After all, who could disturb my sleep? The White Ghost?"

Wilce topped up Lantur's goblet from the wine flagon. "How could the White Ghost disturb my lady when 'twill be lying at the bottom of the lake, wrapped around ex-Queen Silth!"

"Heehee! Pour yourself more wine, Wilce!"

Cregga stumped her way downstairs to find out what had been going on in her absence. The few days she had spent alone in her room had been irksome. Now recovered from her wounds, the blind badger was eager for company, longing to be part of the daily hum of Abbey life. Her tread was slow and sure, and she kept to one side of the stairs, using the wall as a guide. Every joint and crack of the ancient red sandstone, each paw-worn stair with its own small dip or hollow, the Badgermum knew well. Redwall Abbey was her home, and she loved it so much that she felt every stone of it was part of her.

Reaching Great Hall, Cregga's sharp instincts told her things were not as they should be. She knew it was nighttime, and there were always Redwallers about this late in the evening. But now there was a hushed silence over everything. Moreover, her senses told her that candles and lanterns aplenty were lit, for she could feel their presence, the slight warmth, a guttering flicker, the odd drip of melted beeswax from a brimming sconce, the fragrant odor of pine resin. All was not right.

Moving silently into what she knew was the shadow of a thick stone column at the edge of the hall, the big badger felt about until her paw rested on the long pole of a brass-cupped candle-snuffer. Grasping it tight, she called out, "Who's there? Speak if you know what's good for ye. I don't like creatures sneakin' about around me!"

From somewhere out at the hall's center, a voice she identified as Friar Butty's whispered, "One, two, three... Now!"

Music burst out everywhere, fifes, drums, and all manner of stringed instruments, with massed voices singing in harmony.

"Midsurrvmer midsummer the solstice is here,

And now we give thanks to the day,

We joyfully sing like the birds on the wing,

For old winter is still far away.

The high sun of noontide smiles down on us all,

Sending warmth to the earth from on high,

Soon the autumn will yield, out in orchard and field,

Where the bounties of nature do lie.

Midsummer midsummer the solstice is now,

In the midst of this season so bright,

Yea we sing, aye we sing, hear our glad voices ring,

Far into this fine summer night."

Dwopple and Blinny the molebabe dashed forward. Seizing Cregga's huge paws, they tugged her toward the feasting tables.

"Heehee! We frykkened you, Badgermum, but then us singed nice for ya!"

"Bo urr, marm, do ee cumm now, we'm got gurt 'eaps o' vittles furr ee, an' you'm can stay up late with us'n's!"

The blind badger allowed herself to be led to the festive table. Seating herself in the big Abbot's chair, she took both Dibbuns on her lap, joking with the little creatures. "I must say, you did frighten me dreadfully, but that lovely song made me feel lots better. Thank you! Can we really stay up late tonight? Then I'll behave meself an' be extra good. Mmm, I smell blueberry an' almond turnovers. Pass me the dish, please. I'm so hungry I think I'll eat 'em all!"

Dwopple shook his spoon severely at the massive old badger. "Tch tch! Thort you said y'was gonna be'ave. Friar Butty send y'back up to bed if you naughty!"

Outside the night was still, the day's heat still radiating from the sun warmed stones of the walltop. A half-moon stood clear in endless plains of dark velvet sky. At the center of the south rampart, Bargle stood talking to the shrew Mayon, on reluctant guard duty.

"Wot d'yer think the chances are of Florian an' his patrol comin' up 'ere to relieve us, so's we can get to the feast?"

Bargle shook his head at Mayon's simple and trusting nature. "You got more chance o' sproutin' wings an' flutterin' away like a butterfly, matey! Imagine ole Florian an' Skipper pushin' woodland trifle down their faces, then sayin' all of a sudden like, 'Better 'urry up, we got to go an' relieve the wallguards!'"

Mayon tried to imagine it, then sighed regretfully. "Yore right, mate, 'twouldn't 'appen in ten seasons o' plenty. Oh well, mebbe they'll leave us some fer brekkist. I 'ope?"

The four Marlfoxes crouched in the ditch. Behind them, a contingent of water rats waited, holding the siege ladder between them. Gelltor hauled himself stealthily up onto the path. When he held his voluminous cloak still, he was almost invisible against the ditch edge and the path. At his signal the rats crawled out of the ditch, taking care to make no noise with the long rough ladder. Silently Gelltor fastened it to one end of the rope that had been left hanging from the protrusion beneath the battlements near the northwest corner. The ladder rose smoothly upward as several rats hauled slowly on the rope's other end. When the ladder was raised to its full extent, Gelltor maneuvered it firmly against the wall and nodded to the others waiting in the ditch. Vannan, Ascrod and Predak led the remainder of the water rats to the bottom of the ladder. Gripping his ax handle in tight clenched teeth, Gelltor began climbing. When he was halfway up, Predak allowed the rats to follow.

The Guosim shrew guarding that area was looking over at Bargle and Mayon, not suspecting a thing. Swift and silent as a shadow passing across the moon, Gelltor slid over the walltop and slew the sentry. As the rats followed he gestured to the wallsteps in the northwest corner, whispering, "Hide down there against the wall and wait for me!"

The first group of ten water rats padded softly down the stairs, into the grounds of Redwall Abbey.

Mayon yawned and stretched wearily. "Let's 'ope that Friar Butty thinks of us an' reminds ole Florian that we're up 'ere, mate. Oooh! I dunno wot's gettin' to me most, 'unger or tiredness. Is that Fleggum over at the far corner . there? Looks like 'e's gone asleep."

Bargle stared over toward the shrew in question, who was lying prone. "Sleepin' on the job, is 'e? Well, I'll soon . . . Rats! Lookit, mate, there's rats climbin' o'er the wall! Logalogalogalooooog!"

Roused by the Guosim cry, shrews pounded around from all sides of the walltops, following Bargle and Mayon to the northwest corner.

Gelltor cursed, grinding his teeth. "Rot their lousy eyes, they've seen us!"

Bargle charged headlong across the ramparts, yelling out orders. "Three to each wallgate! Mayon, take six an' secure the main gate! Stop those vermin openin' any gates. Splikker, bring the rest an' follow me. Chaaaaaarge!"

Gelltor was in a quandary. He could not fight off the charging Guosim, but neither could he climb back down the ladder against the stream of rats already on it, forging their way upward. Judging the situation hastily, he slipped quietly off down the wallsteps.

A water rat was halfway over the wall when he met a thrust from Bargle's rapier and fell back with a gurgle, plunging out over the heads of his upcoming companions. Bargle and three other shrews mounted the battlements, slashing with their blades at any rat foolish enough to attempt climbing further. Below on the ground Vannan, Ascrod and Predak knew that the plan had been discovered, but they urged their troops on.

"Come on, get up that ladder! You at the top there, attack! Get on the wall and keep them shrews busy! Fight them!"

Bargle draped himself across the gap between two battlements, and by leaning down as far as he could, managed to catch hold of the rope, still tied to the ladder top. The brave shrew hauled on the rope while his mates kept the attackers busy, until the free end was at last in his hand. Leaping up, he yelled out commands.

"Somebeast get over to the Abbey an' raise the alarm, there's nobeast in the belltower to warn 'em! The rest of ye, follow me!"

Bargle started running along the tops of the battlements toward the southwest corner, tugging the rope across his shoulders. Wily in the ways of battle, the other Guosim caught on right away to what he was doing. Climbing up to join him, each one caught hold of the rope and ran with it, pulling furiously. With a loud grating sound the ladder began heeling over sideways. Rats screeched in panic, caught in a jumble at the top of the ladder, unable to descend because of others clinging on in terror below them. Those lucky enough to be on the low rungs jumped for the safety of the ground, most of them landing on the heads of the bewildered Marlfoxes below. Unable to topple further, the ladder fell awkwardly, spinning out away from the wall, laden with screaming vermin. It thudded to earth with a sickening crunch, snapping at its center as it hit the ground in a cloud of dust and carcasses.

Bargle jumped down from the battlements.- "Down into the grounds, mates, we don't know 'ow many got in!"

The shrew running for the Abbey to raise the alarm was brought down by an arrow. Mayon had his paws full defending the main gates against Gelltor and the ten water rats who had made it over the wall.

Gelltor was fighting for his life and he knew it. If he could not force Mayon and his six Guosim away from the main gate, there would be no help from outside now that the ladder had fallen. The Marlfox fought like a demon, snarling in the face of his enemies as he wielded his ax savagely. Three shrews were laid low as Bargle and the rest of his sentries came thundering up to join the fight. Gelltor and his rats saw them coming and dashed away for the south wallgate, where only three Guosim were on guard. The Marlfox's mind was racing. If he was fast enough they could lay the three low and escape. Bargle went after them, signaling Mayon to stay with his command at the main gate. One of the shrews running with Bargle was halfway across the lawn, whirling a loaded sling, when he tripped. The heavy pebble shot off into the night.

Smash! The stone took out a small windowpane in Great Hall. Janglur, Rusvul and Skipper were up and vaulting over the tabletops even before the final shards of crystal glass had finished falling. Borrakul was hard on their heels, blocking the doorway through which the trio had just exited.

"Friar, Deesum, Sloey! Git those Dibbuns to the wine cellars. Cregga, you an' the elders hold this door. Every other able-bodied Redwaller, toiler me!"

Florian brushed past him in high indignation. "Hmph! Just what I was about t'say m'self. Don't anticipate my orders in the future. Thunderin' bad form, sir!"

Tragglo Spearback could not help raising his eyebrows as he patted Borrakul's back. "Ho dearie me, you've got mister Florian really roused now, mate. I wonder who 'e's goin' to attack with that bowl o' pudden that 'e's carryin'?"

Gelltor had lost the fray. Bargle and his Guosim hurled themselves upon the water rats, with all the skill and ferocity of shrew Warriors. They took no prisoners. Gelltor was backed up against the wallgate, surrounded by a half-circle of rapier blades, when Janglur, Rusvul and Skipper arrived on the scene. Bargle staunched a leg wound grimly.

"Big ole ladder they 'ad, Skip, but I put paid t'that. I think this Marlfox 'ere is the last of 'em!"

Somebeast held up a torch, and Skipper studied the Marlfox in its glow. "Florian, take yore guards up on the walltop an' secure it. We'll search the grounds an' make certain there ain't any more vermin prowlin' about. Janglur, bind this 'un an' lock 'im in the gate'ouse until we decides wot t'do with 'im!"

Gelltor flailed about dangerously with his ax. "Put a paw near me an' it gets chopped off!"

The half-lidded eyes of Janglur settled on the Marlfox. "Tough beast, ain't yer, fox? Yore the one who was goin' to execute me fer sendin' yore sister where she belongs."

The Marlfox spat at the warrior squirrel and bared his fangs. "Talk big with your army round you, windbag. You couldn't face me alone if I was bound an' blindfolded!"

Skipper smiled pityingly at the Marlfox. "Oops! I think you jus' said the wrong thing there, matey."

Janglur waved a paw at those surrounding the cornered Gelltor. "Back off, everybeast. Do like I say an' stand well away."

Rusvul shouldered his javelin and prepared to stride off. "Best do like Janglur says. Where d'yer want us, Jang?"

Janglur's eyes never left the fox as he replied, "Over yonder, out o' the way!"

The squirrel warrior nodded at the Marlfox's ax. "You can keep 'old o' that thing. Now, let's do this-proper. Walk past me, fox, about three tall treelengths, out onto the lawn."

Gelltor was mystified, but he complied, feeling the squirrel's lazy eyes watching him as he paced off the distance.

"Right, that'll do, ye vermin. Stop there."

Gelltor halted and turned to see Janglur whack the bolts back with two sharp movements and fling open the south wallgate. Janglur moved forward a few paces. Standing empty-pawed between Gelltor and the open gate, he addressed the fox. "See, there's freedoman open gate. All you got to do is get past me. Don't fret, nobeast will try t'stop yer, only me."

Gelltor spat on his axblade and swung it expertly, feeling light-headed with confidence. What sort of fools were these Abbeydwellers, leaving only a fatbellied sleepy-looking squirrel between a Marlfox and his freedom? He ran a short distance forward, sprang into a crouch with the keen ax flat-bladed in front of him, and began stalking his prey.

Janglur waited until Gelltor was less than a pace from him. Then, as the ax swung, he dropped to the ground, kicking out sharply. Gelltor went down on his tail with a grunt of surprise. He had never missed a beast with his ax at that range. A sickening pain shot through his left footpaw and he scrambled upright, to find himself facing the squirrel whirling a stone-loaded sling. Limping, Gelltor took two sharp sideways chops at his adversary, snarling angrily, "When I leave here I'll take your head with me, Redwaller!"

Janglur countered a blow, the stone in his sling ringing off the axblade. He swung and caught Gelltor in the stomach. "Save yore breath, bully. Are you goin' t'talk or fight?"

The Marlfox feinted to draw Janglur off, then swung an overhead slice directly between his opponent's eyes. But the squirrel was not there. Janglur had moved his position so that he was standing alongside his assailant. The momentum of the swing buried the axblade in the earth, and the thwack of the stone-loaded sling echoed off the south wall as it struck Gelltor's skull.

Janglur took the ax from the slain Marlfox's limp grasp, passing it to Tragglo Spearback. "This weapon's seen enough evil. Put it t'work in yore cellars choppin' up ole barrel staves. Skip, get those slain rats." He hooked a paw in Gelltor's belt and dragged him outside the wallgate, where he dumped the dead Marlfox on open ground. "Put 'em out 'ere wid their master. I told them they could bury their own when they started this."

When the gate was secured, they started back for the Abbey, Skipper and Janglur supporting Bargle, who sported a makeshift bandage on his wounded leg. Rusvul ruffled the shrew's ears fondly. "That's a wound to show yore grandshrews, mate!"

The tough Guosim limped forward with all speed. "Hah! Never mind that! Is the feast still goin' good? Me'n'my crew bin waitin' on a relief since nearly noon, an' we're starvin'!"

Florian called down anxiously from the walltop. "I say, old chap, if y'see a half-finished woodland trifle puddin', well, it's mine, so don't put a blinkin' paw near it, wot!"

"Righto, mate," Bargle called cheerily back. "I swear I won't touch yore trifle. Can't say the same thing for Mayon, though. 'E loves 'is trifle, that 'un does!"

"Cads! Trifle-burglars! Have you no sense of honor, sirs? Leavin' a poor creature up here in charge of your jolly worthless hides while you plunder his trifle, this'll go on your record, I warn you, great shrewfaced vittle-vulture!"

Mayon began ragging Florian ruthlessly. "Are yer partial to mushroom and cheese flan, sir, or anythin' o' that sort? Jus' you tell us wot dishes are yer favorite, mister Florian."

The hare's reply was tinged with hopefulness. "Well, thank the seasons for a decent type o' shrew, wot! Yes, mushroom'n'cheese flan, that's jolly nice. Oh, let me see now, I like summer salad with hazelnuts, blueberry pudden, hot scones with meadowcream, lashin's o' the stuff! Er, apple pie, plum tart, heavy fruitcake with a wedge of cheese, anythin' like that!"

Mayon nodded, as if making a mental note of it all. "Well, don't you fret, sir, we'll remove all that jolly ole temptation outta yore way, so that yore breeches'll still fit yer. Don't forget t'put that on our records, sir!"

They went inside chuckling, with the air ringing to Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop's invective. "Blisterin' salad-swipers! Confounded purloiners of puddens! You mop-pawed ragheaded bread'n'cheese bandits, I hope y'all scoff too much an' explode, see if I'll care? Hah, pish'n'tush I'll say, fiddledy hey an' serves 'em right! Why, I've a good mind t'go to sleep an' allow the flippin' place t'be overrun with water foxes an' Marlrats an' what have you . . . er, I mean, forterwoxes an' ragmats, yes, that's what I mean .. . er, no 'tisn't..."

Chapter 21

Morning was high and bright by the time the travelers left Sollertree's dwelling with their guide. Song had the feeling that though the hedgehog giant professed to be happy with his lonely existence, he would dearly have wished them to stay longer. In normal circumstances the squirrelmaid would have liked to, but there was much to be done and now was not the time to linger. With their packs refilled from Soil's larder they trudged off, their big friend in the lead carrying the boat Swallow across his shoulders with ease. Dann figured that the path they were taking must once have been flooded by water, for thick fernbeds interspersed with clumps of marjoram, woundwort and hempnettle grew around the slender trunks of young rowan, elder and ash, which provided a veritable palisade on either side of the narrow path. Apart from the birdsong all around there appeared to be no signs of other creatures.

"Looks like we got the woodlands to ourselves, mates!" Dippler remarked airily.

Soil's reply caused them to look to their weapons. "Not quite, me young dears, we're bein' watched. Now now, put not yore paws near blade or sling, 'tis nothin' a beast o' my girth cannot deal with! Follow me, look neither left nor right an' be not afeared."

"Oh yiss yiss, keep close t'the big feller, though I don't see as 'ow he'll defend us," Burble whispered to Dippler as they hurried to keep up with Soil. "Yesterday 'e said that 'twas agin' 'is nature t'be a warrior or harm any livin' creature."

Dippler kept close behind the hedgehog's broad back. He had confidence in Soil. "Don't you worry, Burb, mister Soil will take care of us."

Song's sharp eyes soon picked out the shapes flitting amid the screen of slim treetrunks. Whoever it was tracking them seemed well versed in stealth, using sunlight and shadow skillfully, slipping between ferns and bushes.

"Whatever kind of creature comes at us, I'm not afraid," Dann murmured to her. "This time they won't catch me nappin', I'll wager!"

The pretty squirrelmaid restrained Dann's swordpaw gently. "I know you don't fear them, Dann, but let's do what Soli says, just follow and leave things to him. Look out, here they are!"

There were three of them, a stoat and two weasels. Their appearance was eerie and barbaric. Stripes of yellow clay and green plant dye swathed the trio from ears to footpaws, providing perfect camouflage for the type of woodland they hunted in. A mace and chain dangled from the stoat's paw, while the weasels brandished fire-blackened cutlasses. They stood on the path ahead, boldly blocking the way.

Grinning wickedly, the stoat twirled his mace and chain. "Stay where y'are. This's our forest. Who said youse could walk on our path? I never, did you, cullies?"

The weasels were enjoying themselves. They shook their heads.

"Nah, we never gave 'em permission."

"Trespassin', that's wot they're doin'."

Soli unshouldered the boat, placing it carefully to one side. His voice was calm and friendly. "Me'n'my friends are travelers. We don't want trouble."

The stoat turned to his weasel companions, putting on a mocking tone. "Did y'ear that, buckoes? They don't want trouble. Ain't that nice?" Turning swiftly, he slammed the spiked metal ball of his mace and chain against a thin laburnum tree, tearing off a chunk of bark. His voice hardened as he shook the weapon at the hedgehog. "Well, you've already got trouble whether y'want it or not. Now drop those foodpacks an' yer weapons too, an' leave the pretty boat where 'tis. Then run back the ways yer came an' I'll let yer off wid yore lives. But yer better do it quick!"

Soli held up a large paw. "I hear you, friend. Let me have a word with these young 'uns first." Without waiting for a reply, Soil turned and addressed his followers quietly.

"Steady now, me liddle dears. I know yore warriors an' you could deal with yon vermin, but why waste life? They're only bullies an' loudmouths, or they'd 'ave acted afore now. Leave this t'Soll."

The giant hedgehog turned back then, and took a few resolute steps forward. Seeing the size of him reared up to his full height, the vermin trio fell back a pace. Soil's face was stern and unrelenting, and his voice rang like iron. "Y'see those four young 'uns back there? Well, each of 'em is a Redwall Abbey Champion. They're born warriors. Any one of 'em could lay all three of you out!"

Both weasels looked apprehensive at this statement, but the stoat kept up his swagger. "Yore lyin', 'edgepig. Those four, ha! I'll wager that four seasons back their mammas was still tuckin' 'em in bed!"

Soil raised his bushy eyebrows, widening his eyes until he began to look quite insane, and his voice rose to a roar. "But I only keep my friends for special occasions, an' this ain't nothin' special, three painted popinjays like you. Yore all mine!"

Soil's powerful paws began clenching and unclenching, his eyes popped even wider and his voice swelled like thunder. " 'Cos you've left it until too late to run away now! Y'must deal with me! I'm the son of a gutripper an' skullcrusher! Born in dark moon an' storm! My enemies don't 'ave graves, I et 'em all! First I'll bite off yer ears an' tails! Then I'll build me a great fire, a roastin' fire! I'll cut me a sharp green spit, one that can take three vermin at a time! Then I'll get my skinnin' sword an' I'll..."

But the vermin were gone, whizzing away through the woodlands like minnows with a pike on their tails.

Sollertree sat down on the path, placing a paw across his eyes and shaking his head woefully. "Oh dearie me, grapevines'n'gravel! Dearie goodness gracious me!"

Song hurried forward and held his paw sympathetically. "Mister Soil, whatever's wrong with you?"

The giant hedgehog waved her away. "Leave me a moment, my pretty maid. I've gone an' upset meself with all that temper an' shoutin'. It had t'be done, though I don't like meself when I must resort to anger. Leave me, I beg you."

Song went with her friends to sit a short distance from Soli. Dann's eyes were shining with wonder. "Did you see him? Whew! Imagine what he'd 'ave done if the vermin'd stayed! I shudder t'think!"

Dippler had enjoyed the encounter immensely, once he was over the first fright of Soil's roaring tirade. "Heheehee! Did you see their faces? I thought they was gonna break all their teeth, they was chatterin' so 'ard, eh, Burb?"

"Oh yiss yiss. Meself, I was hopin' that good ole mister Soll'd skin 'em an' roast the rotten toads, like 'e said 'e would. Yiss!"

Song tweaked the watervole's ear. "You bloodthirsty little maggot, mister Soil wouldn't have done any such thing. He knew they were only bullies, so he outbullied them. Look at him, poor creature, he's quite upset."

However, Soil's depressed state did not last too long. He sniffed quite a bit, wiped his eyes and stood up smiling broadly. "Well, that's enough o' that, my liddle dearies. There's plenty o' creatures in this land to upset me, without my upsettin' meself. Life is given t'be lived happily, that's true enough!" Picking up the mace and chain that the stoat had dropped, Soil twirled it above his head until it was a humming blur, then he flung it up and out. They watched in awe as it sailed out of sight over the treetops.

About midafternoon Soil changed course slightly, veering off into an area where the trees were less thick, and small clearings and rocks dotted the land.

"I 'opes you don't mind, my dearies, but I got a liddle visitin' t'do. 'Twon't take up much of yore time."

Dippler sniffed the air appreciatively. "Ooh, lovely, scones! Somebeast's bakin' scones, I can smell 'em."

Sure enough, a wonderful aroma of fresh-baked scones hovered elusively on the hot afternoon air. Soil halted and called out in a gentle singsong tone,

"Goodwife Brimm, are you at 'ome?

If'n you are 'tis only me,

Now you won't sit all alone,

'Cos I've brought some friends to tea!"

A voice, old and cracked through long seasons, answered him.

"If'n that's who I think it be,

Wot a din yore makin',

Seems to me I only see,

Yore face when I'm bakin'!"

Laughing uproariously, Soli hitched the Swallow farther up on his shoulders and broke into a lumbering run, with the four travelers trotting in his wake.

Goodwife Brimm was a small, thin otter, incredibly old; her fur had turned a beautiful silver-white. Song had never seen an old otterwife dressed so charmingly, from her poke bonnet and puff-sleeved gown to the flowery pinafore with dainty lace edging. The goodwife's home was properly built from baked clay and mud bricks, walling in a flat almost square rock spur, which formed the roof. White limestones separated her vegetable and herb garden from a blossoming flower patch. The old otter left off gathering rows of scones from a window-ledge, where they had been cooling, and hobbled forward to greet her friend. Soil and Goody Brimm hugged and kissed fondly.

"My ole Goody Goody, prettiest otter an' best cook anywheres!"

"Soli, you big flatterer, yore singin' ain't improved none!"

"So it 'asn't, marm, but I got one 'ere can outsing larks!"

Soil introduced them, while Goody Brimm kissed their cheeks and squeezed their paws right heartily for one so frail-looking. "Fortune smile on 'em, ain't they so young an' beautiful, Soil? My my, swords'n'slings'n'rapiers! Proper young warriors all. Come in and sit, I was about t'put the kettle on!"

Inside was the neatest, tidiest house they had ever seen. A brightly hued rush mat covered the floor from wall to wall, pottery ornaments graced the highly polished dresser, there were even embroidered linen headrests on the chairbacks. Goody Brimm put a sizable copper kettle over the fire to boil, then, rolling mint leaves and dried burnet rose hips almost to powder with a long round stone, she tossed them in a fat blue teapot. Tea at Goody Brimm's house was very special. The travelers helped themselves to almond wafers and scones, spread with every kind of preserve from blackcurrant jelly to gooseberry and damson jam.

Soli hauled two bags from his pack. "Brought you some grapes'n'almonds. Good crop this year."

They explained their mission to the otterwife, who listened, sipping her tea and nodding, while encouraging them to eat more. When they had finished their tale, the old goodwife spoke. "The stream flows well not far from here. Soil will have you there by eventide, so don't gollop yore food an' rush off, now. Lackaday, young 'uns are always in a hurry. Slow down, 'tis better for you. Now then, pretty miss, with a name like your'n I think you should carry a nice tune. Do ye know one called 'Mother Nature Dear'? 'Tis a great favorite of mine."

Song answered without hesitation. "Aye, I know it well, marm, my grandma Ellayo taught it to me. 'Twas a long time ago, but I recall every word."

Goody chuckled and winked at Soil. "A long time ago, eh? Like as not two seasons back. When yore old as me, then y'can talk about long times, my beauty. Come, sing for me."

Song began tapping her footpaw, and they all tapped along with her until the rhythm was just right to start singing.

"Who taught the birds to sing?

Why Mother Nature dear.

Who told the winds an' breeze to blow,

Rain to fall an' snow to snow,

Rivers to run an' streams to flow?

Oh Mother Nature dear!

Who colored grass so green?

Why Mother Nature dear.

Who tells the moon, come out at night,

And teaches stars to shine so bright,

Then orders sun and clear daylight?

Oh Mother Nature dear!

Who makes the seaons change?

Why Mother Nature dear.

Who says the seas must ebb and flow,

An' tells each tree how tall to grow,

Then lets the days pass fast or slow?

Oh Mother Nature dear,

I see her plain an' clear,

She's all around us here!"

Song held the final note, letting it rise, holding it a touch longer, then ending with a double tap of her foot-paws. Goody Brimm was smiling, yet she wiped her eyes with a small kerchief. "I never 'eard that tune sung so sweet in all me days. 'Twas a rare treat jus' to sit'n'lissen to yore voice, young missie!"

Soil rose reluctantly. "That's true, m'dear, but these young 'uns got a ways to go afore nightfall. We best leave now if'n we want to make it to the stream by twilight. So we'll be biddin' ye goodbye."

Goody Brimm hastily started wrapping scones for them. "Goodbye nothin'! I'll walk with ye as far as the stream. A stretch of the ole pawsll do me good!"

Afternoon shadows were growing long as they strode through the woodland in double file, chatting away animatedly. Dann watched the old otter, leaning for support on Soil's sturdy paw, both solitary creatures united for a short time. Song already had an idea of what Dann was going to say to her, but she let him speak his thoughts as they walked together.

"I can't help feelin' sorry for Soil an' Goody. You can tell they lead a lonely life, by the way they love company an' want us to stay an' visit longer. I think they'd be far better off livin' at Redwall Abbey. There'd be lots o' new friends there, an' things t'do. I bet they'd soon forget their loneliness at the Abbey."

Song had already pondered this idea. "Ah, but you must remember, Dann, they're solitary creatures by choice. I'll grant you that they like visitors, but if they were to live at the Abbey, perhaps they wouldn't be able to get used to constant company and living night and day without the solitude they've come to love so well. Besides, Soil and Goody are old and set in their ways. I don't think they'd take so easily to a new life."

Goody Brimm turned and winked at Song. "Right, me beauty. You show great wisdom for one so young!"

The squirrelmaid felt her fur prickle with embarrassment. "Oh, marm, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was speakin' so loud!"

Goody's head nodded up and down as she chuckled. "Heehee, you weren't. Sometimes my ole paws let me down, but these ears o' mine are sharp as the day I was born. What's more, when I hear yore voice echoin' round this great boat that Soil's carryin', it sounds a lot louder, I can tell ye. Heehee!"

Burble agreed with the old otter. "Ah yiss yiss, missus, I carried that boat over me head wid these three fer nigh on a day. D'ye know, they near drove me mad wid their chatterin' an' singin' echoin' through me pore young ears. Yiss!"

Dippler stared at the watervole quizzically. "Did I 'ear right, matey? Somebeast near drove you mad by chatterin'? Are yer sure 'twasn't the other way round, eh?"

Several rivulets joined in a small valley to form the stream. In the gathering twilight they heard the water sounds as they trekked through the trees toward it. Simple pleasure showed on Soil's heavy face. "You see, me liddle dearies, I told you I'd get ye here afore dark, an' I was right, was I not?" Placing the Swallow onstream, Soil held it still while the four friends stowed their supplies, climbed into the vessel and took up their paddles. Then Soil and Goody Brimm bid them farewell.

"Go ye now, an' fortune sail with you, my dearies!"

"Aye, an' make them scones last well, 'twill be a long time till you taste any so nice!"

"Should you return safe from yore venture, be so kind as to call an' visit ole Soil again some sunny day!"

"You must all come an' see me too, but stay a bit longer next time. Be careful now, go safe an' take our best wishes with ye!"

The Swallow cut her way out to midstream, with the four friends calling their goodbyes to the two good creatures waving from the bank.

"Thanks for everything, both of you. We'll come back, never fear!"

"Aye, a Guosim nose can scent scones bakin' anywhere, marm!"

"Yiss yiss, tell me friend Croikle to 'ave more jokes ready when we call back this way, sir!"

"Farewell, Soil, farewell, Goody! We'll never forget you, or the kindness you've shown us. Farewell!"

Watching the sleek craft slide downstream until it was lost in the nightfall, hedgehog and otter stood silent, tears dripping down their faces. Goody Brimm passed Soil her kerchief. "They got a long an' dangerous way t'go, but they're young an' brave of heart. They'll make it."

The giant hedgehog dabbed gently at his eyes. "Wish they could've stayed safe with me'n'Croikle!"

Chapter 22

Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop struck his most noble pose. Balancing high on the midwest battlements he leaned forward, shading his eyes with a paw, back leg stuck out straight behind, and his expression one of keen and courageous intelligence as he peered searchingly in all directions. The fearless commander, master of all he surveyed. "H'all cleeeeyaaahhh?" he called to the sentries in his most authoritative voice. "The enemy hath fled from our gates! Nary a sign of one lousebound rat or malicious Marlfox t'be seen in all this fair country, wot!" Deesum clasped her paws together fervently. "Oh, thanks be to fortune, is the fighting over now?"

Florian blew out his narrow chest, placing a paw upon his heart. "The winds of war blow no more, madam, the foebeast is vanquished, routed by our valorous efforts, retreating in disarray, wot wot!"

The fiendish mousebabe Dwopple narrowly missed the hare's tail with a stone from his sling. He scowled ferociously. "Worra 'im talkin' 'bout?"

Florian cast a jaundiced eye at his one remaining foe. "If you'd washed your pesky ears out you'd have heard first time, O small and horrible one. Victory is ours! Toll the bells! Strew rose petals round me paws and prepare a great feast!"

Brother Melilot rolled his eyes skyward in despair. "I had a feelin' he was goin' to mention food!"

The rest of the Redwallers sitting on the gatehouse steps looked to Cregga. Sister Sloey touched the badger's paw. "What d'you think, Badgermum? Is the fighting really over?"

Cregga deliberated before giving her answer. "It could well be, friend. Another Marlfox slain, and a good number of water rats. Perhaps they've had enough. They've not shown up today so far, and that must be a good sign."

Gurrbowl Cellarmole jumped up and down with joy. She hated the notion, as most other Redwallers did, of continued strife. "Oh, do saya ee vurmints be'd gone, marm. Ee foightin' do be's over, bain't it, do ee say 'tis."

Cregga smiled. She could feel the hopefulness virtually radiating from the Abbeydwellers gathered around her. "Oh, all right, if you wish, I think the war's over."

Joyous pandemonium rang out over the grounds into the sunkissed morning.

"Victory for Redwaaaaaalllll!"

"Sound the bells! Sound the bells good'n'loud!"

"A feast! Let's prepare a great feast in the orchard!"

Florian strutted triumphantly down the wallsteps, bowing to all around in the most outrageous manner. "Jolly well told you chaps, didn't I? Fightin's over, wot!"

Janglur sat on the northwest wallcorner with his friends, Rusvul and Skipper. They watched the cheering creatures pouring over toward the Abbey, eager to begin the preparations for the celebratory feast. Janglur's hooded eyes swept Mossflower woodlands north of the ramparts. "Let 'em enjoy theirselves. I think I'll just linger round 'ere for a few days yet. No point in takin' chances, mates."

Skipper tested a longbow that he had been restringing. "Good idea. We're with you!" Vannan's was the strongest personality of the three remaining Marlfoxes. She had ordered a retreat into the depths of south Mossflower. The vixen sat watching the water rats tend their injuries and cook food over an open fire, remarking noncommittally, as Ascrod came to sit beside her, "We're fortunate there's no shortage of vittles hereabouts. Let 'em rest awhile. We need to use brains more than weapons now."

Ascrod snorted scornfully. He snatched a roasted thrush from a passing water rat and sank his teeth into it. "We need reinforcements more than anythin', sister. We've barely got a hundred an' twenty countin' me, you an' Predak."

Vannan stood up, brushing her cloak off. "Then we'll just have to use the ferrets, won't we?"

Ascrod spat a bone into the fire, wrinkling his face in disgust. "What? You mean that scurvy bunch we rousted out of here last night? Raventail and his ragged crowd? They looked as though they'd seen enough fighting to last them many a long day. Anyway, ferrets have never served those of Marlfox blood. Surely you cannot be serious?"

Vannan adjusted the ax in her belt so it was ready to paw. "I'm perfectly serious, brother. We can't be too choosy in times like these, and we need more soldiers. Those ferrets will join us, aye, they'll fight and die for us too, when I've put a bit of discipline into their backbones. You can come with me. Bring an escort of twoscore, well armedAllag's patrol will do."

Ascrod tossed the roast bird aside, wiping paws upon his cloak. "But we chased them off. They'll be long gone by now."

Vannan pointed to the telltale wisps rising above the treetops to the south. "They're still hanging about over that way. I've been marking the smoke of their campfire since early morning. Are you coming?"

Ascrod signaled Allag's patrol and hurried to join his sister. "But there was no more than a score of them. What use is twenty ferrets to us?"

Vannan strode confidently onward. "A score is all we counted, but I'll wager they can raise three times that number. Sixty extra soldiers is not something to be sneezed at. Let's go and talk to this Chieftain Raventail!"

When they reached the ferret camp, Vannan ordered Ascrod to stay concealed nearby in the woods with Allag and his patrol. Using all the considerable wiles of a Marlfox, she made her way through the ferrets unheeded. Drawing as close to Raventail's fire as she could while remaining undetected, the vixen tossed a pawful of special ingredients from her belt pouch into the flames. Raventail shot up in alarm when the fire burst into a green sheet of flame, followed by a thick column of smoke. He was even more astounded by the appearance of Vannan, who materialized out of the haze. The ferret staggered backward, drawing his scimitar.

"Kye arr! Where comma you from, foxbeast?"

Vannan made a fearful sight, paws akimbo, revealing the ax she carried beneath her cloak, from under which the smoke still wreathed and curled. Her strange pale eyes narrowed as she glared at the ferret, calling out in a sepulchral voice, "Be still and know that I am the Marlfox! The power of great magic is within me!"

Raventail wavered, not sure what to do next. He looked to an old toothless ferret, reputed to be wise, and the old vermin nodded his head vigorously. He too was impressed by Vannan's appearance.

"Yehyeh, meknow 'boutder Marlfoxes. Rakkarakka! Muchmuch magic!"

As if to confirm his statement, Ascrod stepped out from a tree behind Vanna, causing widespread consternation among the ferrets.

"Kye arr! See twobeast now! Shallakaaaah! Marlfox-'n'Marlfox!"

Vannan's lips scarcely moved as she whispered to Ascrod, "Well done, brother. We've got these ignorant savages' attention."

She raised a paw imperiously, pointing beyond to the woodland. "Behold the warrior servants of the Marlfoxes!"

Allag and his patrol marched out of the trees in double ranks. The ferrets turned around to watch the smartly clad water rats. By the time Allag's soldiers arrived at Raventail's fire, both Marlfoxes had disappeared. Raventail circled the fire, utterly astonished. "Kye arrrrrrr! Wherego Marlfoxes?"

Ascrod and Vannan had circled back to where Allag's patrol had been previously hidden. They emerged from the trees, walking very slowly and looking mysterious. The ferret Chieftain grabbed the paw of the ancient one he had consulted before.

"Yehyeh! Allmagic Marlfox be bigmagic!"

Vannan muttered out the side of her mouth to Ascrod as they approached the awestricken Raventail, "Let's sit down and do business with this one, now that we've convinced him Marlfoxes are really magic!"

Florian was also impressing an audience at that moment. Armed with a soup ladle and a large wooden salad fork, he pranced about wildly in front of the Abbeybabes, performing a victory ode he had composed in which credit for the rout of the vermin was due largely to the fighting prowess of one Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop.

"Armed to the dirty mangy teeth,

Ten of 'em came at me,

Hoho, me buckoes, here, sez I,

Only ten of ye?

So I boxed their ears an' blacked their eyes,

Then tied their tails in knots.

I kicked their bottoms o'er the walls

With javelins an' slingshots,

When suddenly behind me back,

Some foulbeast shouted 'Charge!'

An' twenty-three came right at me,

Those villains were quite large.

So I got me trusty salad fork,

An' jabbed 'em here'n'there,

I left 'em weepin', full o' holes,

'Oh save us from that hare!'

Well I grabbed a fleein' Marlfox,

An' punched him on the snout,

Both his boots went flyin' off,

I gave him such a clout!

Those rats were dirty fighters,

Out came me old soup ladle,

The cowardly pack o' blighters,

Fled fast as they were able.

I chased 'em, laughin' bravely,

Haharr now off you pop,

I'm the warrior who saved Redwall,

An' me last name's Wilffachop!"

Unknown to the garrulous hare, Bargle and Mayon were watching the performance. The two Guosim shrews sat concealed by a berry hedge, observing Florian's wild contortions as he declaimed his outrageous ode. They were not sure whether to scowl or laugh.

"Modest ole beast, ain't 'e, mate?"

"I wonder who taught 'im t'dance, a mad caterpillar?"

"Even a scalded frog couldn't prance about like that. I've never seen a creature's paws, tail, ears'n'whiskers goin' so many different ways at one time!"

"Oh, haharrharr! Ole Florian's fell flat on 'is tail. I knew 'e would. Couldn't keep up a twirlin' jig like that!"

Sister Sloey, assisted by Rimrose and Ellayo, was checking up on Redwallers who had sustained injuries during the fighting. A line formed on the stairs to the Infirmary, the patients mainly shrews who had slingshot or arrow wounds that needed re-dressing. Rimrose finished neatly bandaging a Guosim paw. "There you are, Splikker, good as new. Keep it dry now, that cut is healing nicely. Next!"

Ellayo and Sloey were applying a compress of wet herbs to the head of a mole who had been hit by a slingstone.

"Don't worry, sir, that bump is smaller than 'twas yesterday. Do you still feel dizzy at all?"

The mole touched a heavy digging claw to the swelling on his brow. "Oi be foine now, thankee, marm. Doan't feels loik oi gotten two 'eads no more, hurr hurr!"

There was a commotion on the stairway. Florian was pushing his way to the front of the line. "I say, make way for a warrior, you chaps, pish'n'tush! Load of scratches an' bumps, wot! A feller could be dyin' for all you flippin' lot care. Out o' the confounded way, sir!" He came barging into the Infirmary, but did a smart about-turn when he saw three females in attendance. "Er, er, harrumph! Not t'worry, ladies, I'll come back another time. Extremely busy, lots t'do, wot wot!"

Ellayo and Sister Sloey cut off his retreat to the door.

"What seems to be the matter, mister Florian?"

"You never reported a wound. Sit down an' tell us about it."

"Er, er, rather not sit down, Ellayo marm," Florian blustered, backing up to the wall. "Nature of the wound, doncha know, er, haha ..."

Sister Sloey nodded understandingly. "Oh, I see, you were wounded in the tail area. Why didn't you come here yesterday?"

"Er, well er, didn't feel so jolly bad then, you understand, just today though, been givin' me a bit o' gyp. Must've been a few arrows or a couple o' spears got me. Forgot all about it in the heat of battle, y'know. Chap doesn't like to cause a fuss."

Rimrose began gathering herbs for a poultice. "Oh, you poor creature, you must have been in great pain!"

Florian turned sideways, showing his noble profile and devil-may-care smile. "Oh, 'twas nothin' really. Stiff upper lip, wot!"

Winking and grinning at everybeast about, Bargle and Mayon entered the Infirmary. Each tossed a broken half of a wooden salad fork on the table.

"Mister Florian, sir, wot's Brother Melilot goin' t'say when he sees wot y'did to 'is salad fork?"

"Aye, I'll wager it smarted a bit when y'fell an' sat down on it like that. Must've give yer a nasty jab in yore backside, sir?"

Over the uproarious laughter from the shrews waiting in line, Ellayo gave the hare a piece of her mind. "You great flop-eared fraud! Wounded by spears an' arrows durin' the fightin', eh? Yore a fiddle-faced fibber an' a trickster!"

The Infirmary door slammed before Florian could make good his escape. Guosim shrews crowded around the outside, peeping through the keyhole and pressing their ears to the woodwork, to witness what was taking place inside.

"Er, I'll come back t'morrer, marm. What're you doin' with those bally great tweezers? No, please, I beg you. Yaaaah!"

"Bargle, Mayon, hold him still, there may be splinters. Don't want to leave them in there, do we?"

"Ooooh! I say, go easy there! Yowchouch!"

"Is that water hot enough yet, Rimrose? I want to make a nettle poultice. Can't be too careful with tail wounds!"

"Yeeeek! Assassins! Help me, somebeast, they're torturin' me t'death! Owowowowowowwww!"

"So brave an' silent, ain't 'e, Mayon?"

"Whooooooh! Fiends! Gerroff, lemmego! Oohoohooh!"

"Stiff upper lip, mister Florian, that's the jolly ole spirit. Chin up an' never say die, ole chap, wot wot!"

Brother Melilot and Runktipp were setting up the banqueting board in the orchard. Gubbio Foremole and Tragglo Spearback upended a cask onto a trestle, and Tragglo knocked home a spigot with his bung mallet. He held a beaker beneath the tap, allowing a small quantity of sparkling pinkish liquid to flow into it. Melilot took the proffered beaker and sipped.

"Best strawberry fizz cordial I ever tasted!"

Runktipp sat on the ground, looping a thin wire about the big white celery cheese he was about to cut. "Lend a paw 'ere, Brother, 'tis too much for me t'cut alone!"

Melilot clapped a paw to his forehead. "Pear'n'chestnut flans! I've left six of 'em in the ovens!" He hurried off, calling back orders. "Tragglo, help cut the cheese, will you! Foremole, send some of your crew to collect those oatfarls from the windowsills, they should be well cooled by now! Roop, Muggle, start loading the trolleys. Don't forget the saladoh, and see if you can find my serving fork. I don't know where 'tis gone to. Deesum marm, would you be kind enough to top off the trifle? You'll find fresh chopped fruit on the big stone slab. Oh dear, I hope those flans aren't burnt!"

Tragglo and Runktipp pulled the wire smoothly through the large cheese, then lifted off the moist white circular slice and cut it into four wedge-shaped chunks ready for the table.

Runktipp glanced sideways at the berry hedge. "We're bein' watched, mate. 'Tis prob'ly cheese-robbers!"

Tragglo took his barrel knife and cut a small piece from the cheese, held it up and called out to the hidden creatures, "You can 'ave some cheese if'n you promises not t'slay us all afore our work's done 'ere!"

The fiendish Dwopple and his cohort, the molebabe Wugger, emerged from behind the hedge. Both Dibbuns were practically unrecognizable. Daubed from ears to tail with gray kitchen ash and flecked with black spots of charcoal, they wore gray blankets, purloined from the dormitory, as cloaks. Stumbling on the blanket hems, they leapt toward the cheese.

Tragglo struggled to keep a straight face. "An' who might you turrible beasts be?"

Dwopple turned his most fearsome scowl upon the big hedgehog. "Us be's Marmfloxes, an' y'can't see us, 'cos we be unvizzible!"

Tragglo caught on to the game right away. He looked strangely at Runktipp, who had also guessed what was going on. "Did you say somethin', mate?"

Runktipp shook his spiky head vigorously. "I never said a word. I thought 'twas you, mate?"

Dwopple sniggered gleefully as he and Wugger grabbed the cheese. "It workin', toT yer they cuddent see us, heehee!"

Wugger broke the cheese in two, giving half to his partner in crime. "Hurr, vurry gudd. Us'n's best varnish naow, loike ee Marmfloxes!"

The heavy digging claws of Gurrbowl Cellarmole descended on them. "You'm bain't a-varnishin' nowheres, rogues. Oi see ee gudd enuff t'know you'm be in gurt need o' a barth an' sound scrubbin'!"

Both "Marmfloxes" were hauled off kicking and squealing by the dutiful molewife.

Added to the scent of the orchard, an aroma of wonderful food created an intoxicating atmosphere. Janglur, Skipper and Rusvul had been temporarily relieved by three good Guosim, and were sitting together with Rimrose and Ellayo. All around them the buzz and chatter of happy creatures added to the festive spirit. Even the vari-hued butterflies and bumblebees that hovered about the orchard seemed part of the enchanted afternoon.

Cregga Badgermum created an instant hush when she stood to speak. "Friends, Redwallers, good creatures all, before we carry on to enjoy this sunny day, let me say a few words in the absence of either Abbot or Abbess. First, let us hope that the Marlfox threat has gone from Mossflower country. Brave creatures lost their lives in defense of our Abbey, and we must remember them always in our minds and hearts. But also we must resolve never to yield to evil, whether it be Marlfox or any other vermin attempting to destroy the peaceful life of Redwall. Next, I feel we should give due thanks to our warriors. Janglur Swifteye, Rusvul Reguba, Bargle Guosim, Skipper of otters, Borrakul and all of you who defended the Abbey, our thanks to you brave ones!"

There was a mass murmur of agreement, which broke out into hearty applause. Cregga waited before continuing.

"Also we must live in hopes for the safety of Janglur's daughter Song, Rusvul's son Dannflor and the young Guosim Dippler. These, we now know, have gone to get back the tapestry, which is the very heart of Redwall. Fate and fortunes keep them well and aid them on their quest. Now, before we begin, is there anything that you wish to ask me, friends?"

Tragglo Spearback's voice rang out strong and clear. "Aye, marm, I want to know why you ain't our Abbess. Everybeast wishes you were!"

Roars of approval and loud cheers echoed everywhere. Skipper was forced to whack the table with his rudder to get order. "Ahoy, give marm a chance, will ye? Thanks, marm, the floor's yours."

Cregga nodded gratefully in the otter Chieftain's direction. "Well done, Skip! Redwallers, I once had command when I ruled Salamandastron, the great fortress by the sea. Now I wish to live out my seasons in peace. I can help and advise, but I will not rule, on that my word is final. So, if there are no more questions, we will start the feast!"

Bargle held up a paw, grinning mischievously. "Beg pardon, marm, but could you tell us why mister Florian ain't sittin' down like the rest of us?"

Cregga's blind eyes turned in the shrew's direction. "Isn't he? I hadn't noticed. Mayhap mister Florian can throw some light upon the mystery. Sir?"

Amid gales of laughter from all who knew what had happened, Florian glared daggers at the cheeky shrew. "Flippin' spiky-mopped waterbeetle, mind your own business, wot! Chap has the right t'stand or sit as he jolly well pleases, without your bottle-nosed inquiries, flamin' fatbellied boat-bobber! Shove some salad down that great gob of yours an' give it a flippin' rest!"

"I was just about to do that, sir," Bargle shouted cheerfully back, "but I can't find the salad fork noplace. But we all trust you, mister Florian. You will find it!"

Adding insult to injury, Mayon roared out, "Aye, you'll get t'the bottom of things, won't ye, sir!"

The outraged hare loaded two plates high with food and marched off, balancing a flagon of October Ale between the platters. "A frog's feather for you lot. I'll go an' dine elsewhere. I'm not standin' here t'be insulted!"

"Then sit down if y'dare!"

Redwallers held their aching ribs, sobbing with laughter, as much at Bargle's parting shot as at the sight of Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop, strutting off with a heavily bandaged rear end.

^{Chapter 23}

Late night turned extremely cloudy, leaving the four travelers paddling in complete blackness for long periods when the moon became hidden by heavy cloudbanks. The stream had grown much deeper wider, tooand they could no longer feel the odd touch of paddle against streambed. Dann caught the first overhanging branches that he could reach and hauled them in to the bank. "That's enough for one night, pals. The stream may get pretty treacherous in the dark. Let's make camp."

Pulling the Swallow up onto dry ground, they sat on a partially mossed rock shelf. Song peered about her, but could not make out much in the thick tree groves surrounding them. "What d'you think, Dann? Shall we chance a fire?"

The young squirrel was busy digging food out of their packs. "Hmm, I don't see why not, eh, Burb?"

"Ah yiss yiss, a bit of an ould blaze always cheers things up, an' we might see where we've landed. Yiss!"

Dippler went off to look for fuel, and was soon back, staggering under a load of wood. "Found a stricken pine tree back there. Good dry stuff 'tis."

Dann struck flint against his swordblade onto some dry moss, and soon they had a bright crackling little fire. Supper consisted of a few scones, some almonds and raisins and a brew of Goody Brimm's mint and burnet rose hip tea. Only the immediate area of their camp was lit up; beyond that the woodland looked thick, dark and impenetrable.

Without warning a rock whistled out of the night and struck Burble a thudding blow between his shoulders. Dann and Song acted swiftly, dragging the watervole into the shadows, while Dippler scattered the fire into the stream with the flat of his paddle blade. A mocking voice called out of the woodland to them. "Yah, y'ain't got yer big 'edge'og wid yer now. We're comin' t'get yez, me liddle buckoes!"

They recognized the voice immediately. It was the stoat whom Soil had chased off, and they had no doubt that his two weasel allies were still with him. He called out again. "No use tryin' to 'ide from us, young 'uns, we'll get yer. Stand where y'are an' drop yer weapons. If ye do we'll make it quick. But move a muscle an' yore dyin'll be long'n'slow!"

Dann blinked his eyes hard, rubbing a paw into them to dispel the effects of the firelight. Song was already on the move. She launched the Swallow back into the stream, and then she and Dippler helped Burble into the boat. He appeared to be in considerable pain. Song pushed the craft clear of the bank.

"Burb, are you all right?"

"Yiss yiss, I'm fine, missie. Cummon, we'd best git goin'!"

But the pretty squirrelmaid had other ideas. "Listen to me, Burb. Grab that branch hangin' down yonder. Hold the Swallow offshore an' wait for us. But if anybeast tries to get you or the boat, let go of the branch and drift off. We'll catch up with you downstream, all being well."

Song and Dippler crawled back to where Dann hid in the shadows. The stoat was still calling. "Naughty naughty now, ye've moved. We'll 'ave ter punish yer fer that, me liddle friends!"

Song grasped her Leafwood stick, Dippler and Dann drew their blades.

"No use runnin' from them, they'll only follow us. Let's do a bit of punishin' of our own, mates. Remember what Soil said, they're only bullies and cowards. Split up and go three ways!"

Song crawled off into the trees, toward where the stoat's last call had come from. She heard the whirl of a sling close by and the whoosh of a rock hurtling off toward their former position. A voice then, whispering low; it sounded like one of the weasels.

" 'Tis 'ard to see in this dark. Mebbe they've got away?"

"Nah, they'll still be there," the stoat replied, low but confident, "terrified out their wits, you wait'n'see. You take the left, you take the right, an' circle in on 'em. I'll go straight in. We'll 'ave 'em on three sides wid the stream at their backs, and then fer a bit o' sport, eh, cullies?"

Song hoped that her friends had heard. She stood up silently behind the broad trunk of a sycamore and held her breath. Within a hairsbreadth she sensed one of the weasels stalking by. She stepped out behind the dark shape and hit out with the greenstone-topped stick, slamming it square between the weasel's scraggy ears. He fell without a sound. Song placed her paw on his chest; he was stunned, but still alive. She hauled him into a sitting position, binding his paws behind him to the trunk of an ash with his own thonged sling. Then she undid the vermin's broad belt and gagged him with that.

Dippler lived by the code of the Guosim shrews, who seldom took prisoners. The weasel who had gone to the right met his end at the point of the young shrew's rapier.

Dann backtracked slightly, then stepped out in front of the stoat and took him completely by surprise. But the stoat was quick. He leapt to one side and began whining and pleading with the hard-eyed warrior with the deadly sword.

"'Twas nought but a joke, mate. Can't yer take a joke? We was jus' 'avin a bit o' fun wid youse ..."

Dann saw the stoat's dagger coming and dodged sideways. Then he leapt forward, striking down with the blade of Martin. The stoat fell with a shriek as Song and Dippler came charging through the trees.

"Dann, are you hurt, did you get him?"

Dann stayed the writhing stoat on the ground with his footpaw. "I'm all right. Unfortunately my aim was bad in the darkness, or this scum would've been dead now."

The stoat groaned, then spat viciously at Dann. "You wounded me bad, y'stupid young fool. Couldn't yer see 'twas only a joke? We wasn't goin' to 'urt yer!"

Dann placed his sword edge on the side of the stoat's neck. "One more word out o' yore lyin' mouth an' yore head'll be talkin' to y'tail. How's that for a joke, eh?"

Song nodded back into the woodland. "Knocked my vermin cold and left him gagged an' bound to a tree. How did you fare, Dipp?"

Dippler wiped his rapier with a pawful of grass. "Ole Guosim proverb, a dead enemy ain't an enemy no more!" Sheathing his blade he went to the boat, calling aloud, "Burb, 'tis me, Dipp. Y'can bring 'er inshore now, mate."

Dann took Song to one side. "What do we do with the stoat?" he said quietly. "I couldn't bring myself to kill him, and we can't just leave him here."

The squirrelmaid watched the writhing, groaning beast as she sought for a solution. "Go and get some rivermud. Leave this to me."

Dann fetched a good glob of mud from the shallows. Song knelt by the stoat, who was wounded deep in his right side. She tore off a strip of his tunic, slapped the mud on his injury and placed the torn tunic in a pad on top of it. "There, you'll live. Tomorrow you can free your friendhe's tied to an ash back there. Listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you, stoat."

The stoat sneered and cleared his throat as if he were about to spit at Song. She gave him a quick hard cuff to the face. "Spit at me and I'll leave you to my Guosim friend. You heard his rule about enemies. From now on you'll have to learn to live with yourself. No more bullying, stealing or villainy for you, stoat. With that wound you'll probably limp or walk bent for the rest of your days. My advice to you is to build yourself a home, grow your own food, or harvest it from the woodlands, fish, do what you will, but learn to lead a quiet honest life."

When Song arose the stoat lay sneering at her. "Leave me alone, squirrel. I knows 'ow t'lead me own life, see!"

Dann tugged her away from the wounded vermin. "Leave him. Somebeasts never learn. He'll be an idiot all his life an' end up a dead fool!"

It was not wise to stay any longer where they had camped. The four friends paddled off downstream and chose a campsite on the opposite bank. Too weary to do anything further, they dragged the Swallow onshore, overturned the boat and slept under it for the short remaining time until dawn.

Morning brought with it another bright summer day. Eager to be off, the travelers breakfasted hastily. Soon they were paddling along in the center of the wide stream. Sitting behind Burble, the young squirrelmaid could not help but notice the dark bruise at the base of his neck. "Take a rest if you need it, Burb. We'll do the paddling."

"No need fer that, thank ye, missie. I'm all right. Us River'ead voles are tough as ould oak trees. Yiss yiss, that's a fact!"

Dann shipped his paddle. "No need for any of us to paddle, matey," he called back to Song. "See 'ow fast this current's runnin'. May's well sit back an' rest. We'll only need paddles to steer round rocks'n'things."

By midmorning the green tunnel of overhanging tree branches was showing signs of thinning out. When noon arrived they were sorry the shade had been lost, for there was little respite from the blazing sun as the Swallow shot along on the swift stream. Dry arid scrub and rockstrewn banks, with little shrubbery growing in the dusty brown earth, stretched before them on both sides.

Now they needed the paddles. The broad, deep stream grew treacherous, and sharp stone pinnacles began to appear, some with heavy drifts of timber, washed down by the water, piled up against them. On either side the stone sides of the banks rose higher, banded umber and fawn, worn smooth by the rushing torrents. The Swallow's prow bobbed up and down as she sped between the steep walls of the gorge. There was little the travelers could do to arrest their furious progress. Dann and Dippler sat for'ard, plying their paddles this way and that to get the Swallow around the pinnacles, while Song consulted the rhyme Friar Butty had given her, speaking it aloud to Burble.

"Then when the sky shows blue and light,

And clear down to the bed you gaze,

Be not deceived by rainbows bright,

Beware tall stones and misted haze."

Song turned her eyes upward. "We're no longer in the green tunnel, so there's the sky showing blue and light. Is the water muddy or clear, Burb?"

"Ah, 'tis fast-runnin' as y'know, but still the stream's deep an' clear, yiss yiss, very clear, I see the bottom deep down."

"Great seasons, lookit the size o' those rocks ahead!"

They looked in the direction Dippler was pointing.

Two enormous rock pinnacles, their tops thick with vegetation, reared out of the water farther downstream like primitive sentinels. What lay beyond them was lost in a haze of mist formed by water spray shooting high as the stream divided three ways around the rock bases. The awesome spectacle was enhanced by a breathtakingly beautiful rainbow bridging the gorge.

Suddenly, Song seized her paddle, shouting out above the roaring waters, "Bring her in to the side. Find somewhere we can stop. Quickly!"

Backs bent and paddles digging deep, they fought the headlong current. Tacking and veering, drenched to the skin, the four friends battled to bring the frail vessel toward the high rock wall that formed one bank.

Burble spotted a possible place. "There, see, yiss yiss, there, where the rift is!"

Backing water madly, they checked the Swallow as she ran close to the towering cliff. All Dann could see for a moment was a wraithlike armored mouse, hovering in the mist ahead, his hollow voice blending with the roar of waters.

"The sword, Dann, my sword!"

Leaning dangerously out from the prow, Dann whipped forth the sword and thrust it instinctively into the large crack running up the rock face. Throwing his weight forward against the hilt, Dann pushed hard. The Swalloiv hovered for a moment, then turned in a fast circle on the dashing waters until Dann found himself facing upstream. The boat had turned completely around. Straining against the mighty pressure, Dann held her firm.

"Song, do something quick! I can't hold her much longer!"

There was a ledge overhead. Song reached it the only way she could. With a bound she was on Burble's shoulders, thrusting herself into an upward leap. Her paws grasped the ledge and she hauled herself upward, scrabbling to find holds in the rifted stone. She pulled and struggled until she was lying flat on the ledge, hanging over the edge. She held out her paws. "Burble, throw me the stern rope!"

The river vole threw the rope into her waiting paws, then made the other end fast by looping it around the rear seat. Song knotted the rope around a spur in the side of the rift while the others tossed their paddles up onto the ledge. Dippler was first up the rope. He and Song leaned over to help Burble, with Dann following in the rear. As soon as they were safe from the thundering waters, the four companions hauled the Swallow up to the rocky platform, with their supplies intact.

Dann sat panting, his back against the sunwarmed rocks. He patted the hilt of the sword. "Whew! Thanks to Friar Butty's rhyme an' this sword we made it. See that haze down yonder, beneath the rainbow? I'd take me oath that I saw a vision of Martin the Warrior hoverin' there. 'Twas he told me to shove the sword into the crack."

Song looked from the misted haze to the sword. "I don't doubt that you did, Dann. That blade must be some powerful kind of steel to hold a boat and us four safe from those waters. I dread t'think what would've happened to us if we'd been swept away between those two big rocks. I wonder what's down that way?"

Dippler was setting out a makeshift meal of scones and fruit. "Let's 'ave a bite to eat first. Then we'll toiler these ledges downstream an' see where the current leads."

Burble found a flask of dandelion and burdock cordial and swigged thirstily at it, massaging the back of his neck. "Aye, you three go off an' explore awhile. Yiss yiss, I'll stay 'ere an' guard our gear. Me ould neck's a bit sore. You didn't 'elp matters by leapin' all over me head'n'shoulders to get up on this ledge, missie, you serpintly didn't!"

Song helped the watervole to rub his neck. "Ah, poor old Burb. Never mind, mate, you'll live, but don't doze off now. Keep an eye on everything while we're gone."

When they had finished eating, Song, Dann and Dippler took the rope from the Swallow and set off across the rocks to explore downstream. The grandeur of the scenery was awesome: hurtling water, towering stone and spray forever cascading through curtains of mist, over which the rainbow arched like a massive colored bridge. Traveling in single file, they made good use of the rope to span places where there were gaps in the ledges. Sometimes they rested in somber moss-strewn crevices where sunlight never reached. Other times they pawed cautiously over expanses of smooth banded stone, almost hot to the touch. Just beyond the two big rocks that stood center stream, the mist cleared and they halted with gasps of wonderment at the sight.

It was as if they were standing at the very edge of the earth. Billowing, leaping, roaring, vast masses of water fell abruptly downward into the shrouding fog of boiling spray far below. Dippler clasped his friends' paws, eyes wide as he stared down into the hurtling chaos, his shouts almost lost in the reverberating din.

"Lookit that waterfall! Wooooooow!"

They sat on the rock edge, drenched with spray, watching the awesome majesty of the waterfall. Dann pointed to the far side, where the bank ran out a short distance underwater, forming an incredibly swift shallows. There was a great bird pacing up and down the bankside, watching the water intently.

"Great seasons, look at the size of that feller! What sort o' bird would you call him?"

Dippler had spent his life around waterways. Though he had only ever seen the species once before, it was unforgettable. "That's a fishin' eagle. 'Tis called an osprey!"

The bird had a white crown of plumage, and its underparts too were snowy white. A mask, dark brown, almost black, stretched around its savage golden eyes, spreading back over shoulders and wings; it had a heavy hooked beak and fearsome talons. Silently they watched it prowling the bank. It struck once, but came back without any catch. Song was puzzled. "Aren't they supposed to fly and swoop on the fish, Dipp?"

"Aye, that's what they usually do. Aha, look!"

The eagle struck the water again, but could not catch the fish it was chasing. It gave a shriek of temper and charged awkwardly into the water, one wing flapping to retain its balance. Dippler nodded knowingly. "It can't fly, see, keeps one wing close to its side. Musta been injured at some time, I reckon, Song."

The pretty young squirrelmaid was full of sympathy. "Oh, the poor bird. Imagine having big beautiful wings and not being able to use them. Oh, it's so sad to watch him!"

Dippler chuckled as he saw a brown trout leaping and squirming in the shallows as the osprey chased it.

"Pore bird? What about the pore fish, missie? Mind though, that trout's leadin' the eagle a merry dance. Mebbe it'll escape!"

As the Guosim shrew spoke, the trout gave a mighty leap and made it to deep water. The osprey was almost out of its depth. Squawking angrily, it stumbled and was swept into the wild lashing deeps.

Dippler put a paw over his eyes. "Nothin' we can do to save 'im now. That'n's a goner!"

Before the words had left his mouth Song was in action. Tying the rope hastily around her waist, she slung the end to Dann. "Hang on to this. I'm goin' after him!"

Dann grabbed the rope instinctively, shouting, "Song, no, you'll be killed!"

But the young squirrelmaid had already plunged into the roaring melee of waters.

Chapter 24

During the night the White Ghost's eerie sighing and wailing echoed ceaselessly around the Queen's bedchamber. Silth crouched in her bed, gaunt and hollow-eyed, her voice reduced to a hoarse croak from shouting for her guards.

"Oooooh, Silth, come to me, Siiiiiilth!"

There it was again. Silth buried her face in a satin coverlet, knowing it was not a dream. When she ventured to peep out, all the candles had sputtered and died. Only a single lantern remained burning on the bedside table. The room had become an ill-lit cavern of shifting shadows, drafts and breezes moving the silk wall hangings like fluttering shrouds. Silth's voice was a piteous whine. "Guards, help me, where are my guards?"

Spectral tones answered her desperate plea. "Gone, all goooooooone!"

Lantur beckoned Wilce out of the room from which she had been impersonating the White Ghost. "That's enough wailing for now, rat. There's no reason for any of the guards to be up here since I dismissed them for the night. But just in case anybeast tries to gain entrance, you stay at the head of the stairs and keep them away. Tell them the High Queen is very ill and any creature coming up here against my orders does so under pain of death. Got it?" Wilce nodded silently and went off about her task.

Lantur took up the tray she had prepared. It had two goblets upon it. One was Silth's own drinking vessel, beaten from fine gold, with her personal crest embossed on its stem. The other was a plain serviceable pewter type. Lantur made sure the Queen's goblet was on the far side of the tray as she carried it into the bedchamber. Silth cowered away from her, bunching the satin coverlet tight under her chin.

"Where are my guards? How long is it until morning light? The White Ghost has been haunting me again. Did you hear it? Well, did you? Speak, daughter."

Smiling benignly, Lantur perched upon the bed, placing the tray next to the lantern on the table. Her voice was that of a true Marlfox, sweet as honey and deadly as an adder's bite. She removed the coverlet gently from Silth's chin.

"Don't upset yourself, Mother dear. I sent the guards away because I don't want them clanking and tramping about outside your door when you need rest. This White Ghost, 'tis all in your imagination. Sleep will cure all that. Things will look better in the light of day."

Silth seemed to regain some of her regal composure. She chided Lantur skeptically. "Sleep? How can I sleep? You haven't the slightest idea how I suffer. I order you to stay here for the rest of the night to keep me company through the dark hours. What's this you've brought, eh?"

Lantur held the tray out to her mother, taking care that she presented it so the Queen's cup was nearer to the royal paw. "'Tis a harmless drink, made from warm damson wine and special herbs. It will help you to sleep."

Silth sniffed the goblet without touching it. "I don't care what it is, I'm not drinking any!"

Lantur moved the tray closer to her mother. "Now don't be silly, Mother. See, I've filled a goblet for myself. I'm going to drink, aye, and enjoy it."

She picked up the plain pewter goblet. It was halfway to her lips when the Queen rasped out, "Stop! Put that goblet back on the tray. I command you!"

With a look of long-suffering hopelessness, Lantur did as she was bidden. Silth smiled craftily at her. "You placed the two goblets on the tray so that my personal one was closest to me, as if you wanted me to drink from it."

Lantur smiled innocently back. "But of course, Majesty. 'Tis your own cup. None but the High Queen would dare to drink from it."

Silth pushed the royal goblet across to Lantur. "Here's a better idea. You drink from my goblet and I'll drink from yours. What do you think of that?"

Lantur shrugged and picked up the golden vessel. "A wonderful idea, Majesty. I've never taken wine from a Queen's cup. Mayhaps I'll get used to it!"

Silth snatched the golden goblet before Lantur could taste it. "No you won't, that's mine. Now, let me see you drain the other one. Drink!"

Lantur's face blanched with fright. Her paw trembled as she picked up the pewter goblet. Silth cackled evilly. "Drink it all, you wicked young schemer, or I'll have my guards feed you to the Teeth of the Deeps. Drink!"

Lantur was forced to swallow, her throat quivering fitfully, wine dribbling from the corners of her lips, her eyes wide with horror. Silth sipped at her own goblet, fully recovered from her former cringing self as she lectured her treacherous daughter.

"Did you think you could outwit a Queen of Marlfoxes, my dear? I knew that you would put the poison in your own goblet. You thought I'd think it was in mine, the silly way you offered the tray so that my cup was nearest to me. I saw through your ruse, Lantur, I knew you wanted me to drink from your goblet, suspecting that mine contained the poison. So tonight you learned your last lesson. Never try to outwit a Queen of Marlfoxes. Hee hee hee!"

Lantur had drained the pewter goblet. She put it aside and watched her mother, a smile suddenly beginning to play upon her lips. "There, I've drunk it all as you commanded. Have you drunk yours yet, O High Queen?"

Surprised, Silth looked up questioningly. "Only a few sips. Why?"

Lantur removed the golden cup from her mother's paws. "One sip would have been enough. You did just as I gambled you would. Your Majesty outfoxed herself. The poison was in your cup all the time!"

Queen Silth's paws dithered helplessly for a moment, then her body flopped limply back. Lantur plumped up the pillow behind her head and folded the satin coverlet neatly under her mother's chin. The Queen murmured faintly through numbed lips, "Guards, where are my ..."

Lantur wiped away a dribble of wine from the corner of Silth's mouth. "Hush now, your Majesty, go to sleep and remember your own words. Never try to outwit a Queen of Marlfoxes. I am Lantur, High Queen of all Marlfoxes, now!"

Silth blinked her dimmed, watering eyes. All power of speech had left her. Without a word she slipped silently into the deepest sleep of all.

Lantur washed the golden goblet out carefully, three times. Then she filled it with new damson wine and drank a toast to herself.

Morning sunlight flooded the island as Wilce the female water rat wandered down to the field where the slaves were husbanding fruit and crops. Seating herself on the ground, she opened a flask of damson wine and poured two beakers. Captain Ullig, the slave master, saw her from the corner of his eye. He cracked his long whip expertly over the bent backs in front of him. "Keep those 'eads down, you scum, or I'll teach yer a lesson you won't forget the rest o' yore lives!" Satisfied that nobeast would dare look up, he joined Wilce. "Thirsty work, eh? Wish I could lay me paws on more wine that tastes like this. Well, ye didn't come down 'ere fer nothin', Wilce. Wot news up at the castle?"

She poured more wine for Ullig, keeping her eyes fixed on the toiling slaves as she spoke. "There'll be lots more o' this wine, much as y'want if you lissen t'me, Slave Cap'n."

Ullig drained his beaker and held it forth for a refill. "Oh aye? Wot is it now, another surprise inspection from 'er Majesty, or is the noise o' this whip disturbin' 'er royal peace?"

"Oh no, the royal peace won't be disturbed ever again, Ullig."

"Wot d'yer mean by that?"

"High Queen Silth is dead, long live Queen Lantur, and her Chief Adviser Wilce!"

Wine ran either side of Ullig's mouth as he slopped it down and held out his beaker for more. "Haharr! I'll drink ter that. So, you an' yore Marlfox friend finally finished off the old one. Clever, Wilce, clever!"

Wilce's paw was like a vise as she grabbed Ullig's, restraining him from lifting the beaker to his mouth. "Keep talkin' like that an' yore a deadrat!" she hissed viciously. "Queen Silth was slain durin' the night, by the White Ghost. I knew all along that White Ghost was the spirit of 'er mate returnin' to avenge hisself for the treacherous way she slew 'im. Right?"

A thin smile crossed Ullig's cruel features. "Right you are, Wilce. Everybeast knowed that someday Silth'd pay fer killin' 'er mate. Lantur was 'is favorite daughter, so 'tis only fittin' that she rules the island nowwid you to guide an' advise 'er, of course, an' me to command the army."

Wilce released Ullig's paw and allowed him to drink. "Well spoken, Ullig. You catch on pretty fast. Now, there'll be a buryin' ceremony at the lakeside before long. What we need is for you to get everybeast yellin', 'Long live High Queen Lantur!'"

Ullig tossed the empty beaker aside and tilted the flask to his lips as he toasted the conspiracy. "Long live Tgh Queen Lantur!"

Wilce gathered up the two beakers. "Not so loud, friend. Nobeast's supposed to know she's dead yet!"

One of the slaves, a sturdy female hedgehog, whispered to an otter working alongside her, "Did you 'ear that? Silth's dead an' Lantur's Queen now."

The otter labored on, not raising his eyes. "Makes no difference to us, does it? One Marlfox is bad as another to a field slave."

The news would have made little difference to Mokkan either. The Marlfox, following his own secret route, found himself attacked by lizards. He had deviated by mistake from the river into a watermeadow, which, half a paddle's depth beneath the surface, was swamp. Berating the rat paddlers and the shrew Fenno, he had them turn about, only to find that the way back to the river was blocked by a teeming horde of lizards, newts and toads. The first inkling he had was when a rat in the prow fell overboard with a gurgle, his throat pierced by a sharpened dried bulrush stem. Then the water came alive with reptiles swimming toward the logboat, while others hurled rush lances from the reeded shallows. Mokkan crouched low and shouted frantic orders to his crew. "Use your paddles! Don't let them aboard or we're lost!"

The logboat rocked from side to side as Mokkan made his way to the prow, pushing past the paddlers. He seized the slain rat's oar and began wielding it energetically, making toward the twin tongues of land that formed the watermeadow entrance. Smashing a toad over the head with his blade, the Marlfox urged his water rats onward as they alternately paddled or hit out at the reptiles who attempted to board the logboat. In the stern of the vessel, Fenno gnawed on the thong like a beast in a trap. Slobbering and spitting, he chewed madly, straining the thong tight by pulling hard with his strong neck. The rawhide snapped as they were passing through the jutting landspurs. Fenno bundled himself ashore and lay still among the reeds and bushes, watching the cold-eyed reptiles hurrying by, trying to catch the vessel before it struck open water.

Mokkan felt the pull of the current. Knocking water rats aside, he dashed to the stern of the boat. "Paddle for your lives! Keep to the center stream! Go! Go!" Slashing left and right with his ax, the Marlfox slew a toad and a frilled newt who were clinging to the after end. Powered by panic-stricken rats, the logboat shot off downriver.

It was long after midnight when Fenno risked moving a limb. Shutting his ears to the horrible screams of a water rat whom the reptiles had captured, he crawled off stealthily through the undergrowth.

Mokkan forced his remaining nine rats to paddle all night. They halted at dawn on the bank of a dry sunburned field, but before he allowed them to eat, drink, or tend their wounds, the Marlfox had them spread the precious tapestry out on the grass. "Clean it, brush the edges well and make sure the fringe isn't tangled. It must be kept in perfect condition for High Queen Silth. It is a thing of rare beauty!"

Mokkan posted two guards, then choosing a shady spot he spread his cloak and lay down to rest, thinking of Fenno and the fate he would suffer in the hold of the merciless reptiles. Mokkan felt slightly cheated. He had planned on killing Fenno himself.

Raventail surprised even himself. When he and his cohorts went out scouring the countryside to the north and east, they recruited nearly one hundred assorted vermin. Naturally, the Marlfoxes had promised Raventail anything his avaricious heart desired. Armaments, food, power, even the rule of a conquered Redwall. Vannan had assured the barbarian ferret that Marlfoxes had no need of the Abbey, because their home was in another place. She explained that the reason Redwall had to fall was because their creatures had murdered two of her kin. Raventail figured that there would be a catch to the agreement somewhere, but his overpowering greed got the better of him. Besides, he reasoned, with a hundred at his command he could always turn the tables on his strange allies. Raventail was not a stupid beast. He took note of the fact that Vannan had made a serious mistake in her talks with him. She had admitted that Marlfoxes could be slain.

Vannan, Ascrod and Predak sat surrounded by their water rat soldiers, watching the vermin horde dancing and chanting around a blazing log. Evening shadows, combined with the eerie flicker of flames, cast a wild and primitive air on the proceedings. Weasels, stoats and ferrets leapt and stamped, pounding the earth until a dustcloud rose around them, flinging their weapons high in the air and catching them expertly as they wailed their killing chants.

"Who be death? We be death!

Here's d'blade wot stop yore breath!

Kye arr rakkachakka whummwhummwhumm!

Plunder good! Slayin' good!

These d'blades wot shed yore blood!

Kye arr rakkachakka whummwhummwhumm!"

Over and over they repeated the chant, getting faster and louder as the tempo of their frenzied dance increased. There was a contemptuous, if slightly nervous, edge to Ascrod's tone as he viewed the primeval proceedings. "Stupid savages. What do they think they're doing?"

The flames reflected in Vannan's pale, immobile eyes. "Working themselves into a blood frenzy, of course, brother. Here comes Raventail. Don't refer to them as stupid savages while he's around. Greetings, Chief Raventail. You have done well, my friend, these are true warriors you have brought us!"

The ferret cast a swift sidelong glance at Ascrod, as if he had heard the Marlfox's insulting remark. Twirling his scimitar deftly, he thwacked it into the ground a mere whisker away from Ascrod's paw. The Marlfox twitched. Raventail's red and black daubed face leered at him momentarily, then he turned away to address Vannan.

"Kyre arr, magicfox, desebeasts ready for warfight, muchslay muchkill, bettersoon we go fightnow, fight-now!"

Predak and Ascrod looked to Vannan. "Now?"

The vixen stood, drawing her ax. "Well, they won't get it done chanting and dancing here. What better time than now? 'Twill be full dark when we reach the Abbey. Our scouts report that they have been celebrating a victory. This is the time they'll least expect us."

Chapter 25

Abbey bells boomed softly on the still warm air over Redwall. Grandma Ellayo, in company with Sister Sloey, halted their evening stroll by the northeast wallcorner. Janglur turned from the battlements, a half-smile in his lazy eyes. "Now then, ole Mother, don't ye go breakin' into a gallop down there. Supper'11 be about ready, time ye get to Cavern Hole."

Ellayo shook her stick at her impudent offspring. "If'n my rheumatiz would let me climb yon wallsteps I'd tan yore tail for ye, Janglur baybelly!"

Skipper winked at Rusvul. He admired the feisty old squirrel. "Haharr, that'd be a sight t'see, mate. Stop there, marm, an' I'll come down an' lend ye a paw. A spot o' tannin' wouldn't go amiss on this son of yores!"

Ellayo shook her head, smiling up at the otter Chieftain. "Aren't you three comin' inside for supper? Me'n'Sister Sloey baked a great blackberry jam roly poly pudden this afternoon."

Rusvul Reguba gnawed his lip regretfully. "With pear'n'honey sauce, too, I'll wager. Trouble is, by the time we got down there, marm, ole Florian forkbottom would've scoffed the lot!"

Sister Sloey, normally quite a sedate old mouse, broke out into hoots of laughter. "Whoohoohoo! Florian forkbottom, that's a good 'un. Whoohoohoo!"

Ellayo turned Sloey in the direction of the Abbey, lecturing her with mock severity. "Now now, Sister, that's not very nice. Don't you dare call that pore hare Florian forkbottomleastways, not afore I do. Heehee!"

"Don't forget us three 'ungry beasts up 'ere, ladies," Janglur called after the retreating figures. "See if'n ye can get supper sent out to us, please."

Ellayo waved her stick in acknowledgment.

Skipper turned back to the wall, leaning his chin on it. "Hmm, it don't look like there's much doin' out there t'night, mates. Quiet as a butterfly's bedroom 'tis."

Rusvul tested his javelin point lightly. "Makes me nervous when it's this quiet. What d'ye say, Jang?"

"Y'could be right, messmate. I don't like it meself, too silent."

Skipper was not a creature who favored inactivity. Pacing restlessly up and down the ramparts, he checked his sling and javelin. Janglur and Rusvul were older than the otter, more used to biding their time throughout the long hours of sentry duty. Rusvul watched Skipper testing the longbow strings and counting the arrows for the second time that night. "Skip, will you stop hoppin' about like you got a thistle under yore jerkin? What's up, matey?"

The big otter eyed Mossflower's vast thickness. Not even a leaf was stirring on the still air. "There's somethin' brewin' out there, Rus. Me whiskers are startin' to twitch, an' that's a bad sign. My ole whiskers ain't ever let me down yet!"

Janglur's hooded eyes stayed intent on a new sling he was braiding. "I know the feelin', mate. What are ye goin' t'do about it?"

"A quiet liddle look around out there wouldn't go amiss."

Stretching the sling against his footpaw, Janglur nodded. "So be it, if'n that's what y'want. We'll let you out by the east wallgate an' keep our eyes skinned for ye comin' back."

As the small door closed behind him the otter Chieftain slid off among the trees, armed with only his sling and stonepouch. He threaded his way southeast, using all his natural ability as a hunter, silent and capable.

Tragglo Spearback and Florian found themselves on dormitory duty. Tragglo was used to unruly Dibbuns, but the hare was losing patience with the wide-awake Abbeybabes. Stiffening both ears and squinching his eyes menacingly, he adopted his no-nonsense voice. "Listen here, you confounded curmudgeons, get t'sleep immediately. One more flippin' squeak out of ye, an' I'll do a spot o' tail-skelpin', wot!"

"Hurr, wot be ee spotter tail-skelpen, zurr?"

"Never you jolly well mind, you young rip, just get t'sleep!"

"Will y'skelper my tail too, mista Florian?"

"Indeed I will, master Dwopple, double sharp if y'don't pipe down!"

"D'you skelper tails too, mista Tragg'o?"

"Hoho, I'm known fer it, young 'un, worstest tail-skelper in Redwall, that's me. Now git back into bed with ye!"

Immediately all the Dibbuns deserted their beds and clamored around the two bewildered dormitory helpers, pleading with them to skelp their tails. It all sounded like great fun to them. Florian and Tragglo were completely overwhelmed, being new to dormitory duty, and the hare threw up his paws in resignation.

"It's all too bally much. How're we supposed to cope with this savage mob of infants, wot wot?"

"Just leave 'em to me, sir. I invented skelpin' naughty tails!"

At the sound of Cregga Badgermum's booming voice the Dibbuns hurled themselves into the little beds and pulled the blankets over their heads. Cregga strode into the dormitory. "Right, let's get started. Any particular one you'd like me to skelp, mister Florian?"

The hare shrugged carelessly. "Not really, marm. Mayhaps you could just dish out a good general skelpin' all round, wot!"

Cregga's huge paws felt their way around each bed as she recited:

"I'll skelp their tails I'll skelp their ears,

Then skelp some whiskers too,

Nobeast skelps like Cregga does,

An' I've skelped quite a few!

I love to see 'em turnin' pale,

Some'll weep or some'll wail,

Somell grow up with no tail,

When I'm done skelpin' here!

So hush my naughty dear,

Go fast asleep till morn,

That's if you wish to waken up,

With tail unskelped by dawn!

One more word, just one more peep,

Woe betide those not asleep,

They will call out, Mercy! Help!

When the badger starts to skelp!"

Silence reigned in the dormitory, apart from one or two false snores, from those trying to prove they were really asleep. Tip-pawing out, Cregga closed the door. Florian gulped visibly. "I say, marm, that did the trick, wot wot? I think a Marlfox'd take a swift snooze rather'n be skelped by you!"

Cregga smiled as she felt her way downstairs. "Bless their liddle hearts, the only beast I'd skelp would be one who tried to put a paw near my Dibbuns. 'Tis the sound of my big voice puts 'em in their place, that's all."

"So your roar's worse than your skelp, wot? Jolly good idea!"

Cregga bared her teeth and growled menacingly. "But only to Dibbuns. I come down extra hard on braggarts and salad fork wreckers!"

Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop nipped smartly behind Tragglo, placing the hedgehog between the badger and himself. "Indeed, quite right too, marm. Can't stand those types m'self!"

At the bottom of the spiral stairwell they met Bargle. The shrew was scratching his head. "Did a mouse pass by you on his way upstairs?"

Tragglo shook his head. "Which mouse? What was he like?"

"Well-built, strong-lookin' feller. Can't say where I've seen 'im afore, but 'e looked familiar like. Wearin' armor an' carryin' a sword, too, fine weapon ..."

Bargle found his paw enveloped by Cregga's huge mitt. "What did he say? Did he do anything? Speak?"

"Er, no, not really, marm. 'E smiled at me an' sorta nodded as if 'e wanted me t'foller 'im. Went up these stairs."

Cregga pushed the shrew in front of her. "Right, up y'go, let's see where your footpaws take you, Bargle. That could only have been the spirit of Martin the Warrior!"

On the floor above the dormitories Bargle halted, glancing down the passage. "There 'e is, by that window. Hi there, matey!" He dashed off down the passage.

"Can you see him?" Cregga muttered to her friends.

The stolid Tragglo shrugged slowly. "I don't see nothin', marm. Ain't nobeast there."

Florian started after Bargle. "Chap must be puddled, wot! Scoffed too much supper, I think."

Cregga could not help remarking, "Huh, if that were the case you'd be seeing visions day and night."

The window was merely a long, narrow, unglazed slit in the wall. Bargle stood by it, rubbing his eyes and blinking. "I'd'a took me oath 'e was 'ere a moment ago, an' now 'e's gone!"

Tragglo stepped up to the window. "Well, 'tis clear that Martin wanted us to look out of this window. Why else should he lead us up here?"

It needed but a single glance through the window to see what Martin had wanted to warn them about. Torches and firebrands were advancing on the Abbey from the east, over two hundred of them.

Bargle felt himself pushed toward the stairs by Florian. "Er, er, no need t'panic, old chap, just because the foebeast is back, wot! Dash on down an' get somebeast up t'the bally belltower, sound the flippin' alarm! Stand by to repel invaders, turn out the blinkin' troops! Er, er, what else? Oh, tell 'em t'pack me some tucker to keep me goin' up on those walls, wot! Nothin' elaborate, bowl of salad, basin o' trifle, er, er . . ."

Cregga's mighty paw stifled further babble from the excited hare. "Hearken, go downstairs quietly, don't rush. Gather every able-bodied Redwaller and report to Skipper and his friends on the walltop. They'll know what to do. Above all, don't toll the bells. The vermin will know we've seen them if they hear an alarm. Go swift and silent, now!"

Ascrod laughed aloud with exhilaration as the whirr of blazing torches, carried by charging vermin, swept by him. Waving his own firebrand at Vannan, he called out, "Tonight's the night we take Redwall, I know it!"

Pale eyes glittering in the torchflames, the vixen licked at her axblade, as if she were already tasting blood. "Luck is with us, I feel it in my bones, brother. One of Raventail's ferrets says he just slew an otter. A big male, probably a Redwall scout!"

Raventail was leading the front-runners. His keen eyes glimpsed the unmistakable bulk of the Abbey ramparts looming up in the darkness. Waving his scimitar, the barbarian ferret gave vent to an eerie howl, which was taken up by his followers.

"Killslay! Kye aaaaaaaaarrr!"

Fearsome-looking vermin, their faces painted heavily for war, leapt forward. Thrusting their torches in the ground, they whirled grappling hooks on ropes and hurled them up at the battlements. Torches clenched in their fangs, the first wave began hauling themselves up the ropes to the parapet. The three Marlfoxes marshaled their archers in position, Predak herself taking a bow and calling orders. "Shoot anything that moves on the walltops. Cover those climbing the ropes!"

Janglur stepped back as another grapnel flew over the battlements and latched in a niche. All along the east wall the three-pronged metal barbs were clanking and grating as they bit into mortared sandstone cracks. The squirrel warrior's hooded eyes watched them carefully. When he judged the time was right he signaled Rusvul and Bargle. "They're all in place. Tell Melilot an' the others they can bring it up now, mates."

Assisted by Rimrose, Ellayo, Sloey and all the kitchen helpers, Brother Melilot ascended the wallstairs. Each of them carried pan, pail, bowl or any other variety of large container they could lay paws upon. They came up the steps slowly, so as not to spill the contents of their vessels. Rusvul Reguba took a bucket from Sister Sloey's trembling paws, nodding politely. "Well done, marm. Now stan' back down those stairs, you've done yore bit. Leave the rest to us."

All along the wall Guosim shrews were taking the vessels from the kitchen helpers and setting them on the battlements anywhere a grapnel was fixed. Janglur took a swift peek over the walltop, moving immediately behind a battlement as a volley of arrows whizzed by. He nodded at Bargle and Rusvul. "Their archers have the walls well markedwe'd best do it smart like. There's all manner o' scum comin' up these ropes."

Rusvul steadied a large cooking pot with one paw. "All carryin' lighted torches, I 'ope?"

Janglur winked at his warrior friend. "Aye, matey, pretty as a twinklin' nest o' fireflies. Let's give it to 'em. One, two, three . . . Now!"

On Janglur's signal, a blend of heated cooking oil, vegetable oilused as lantern fueland any kind of waste oil or grease from kitchen or repair shop was heaved over the top. The outside of the entire east wall lit up with a tremendous whoosh as the hot oil met the battery of blazing torches. Both vermin and ropes went up in a crackling sheet of flame.

Janglur sat beside Rusvul and Bargle in the shelter of the ramparts, eyes streaming from the thick coils of black smoke wreathing about them. The squirrel warrior shook his head regretfully, raising his voice above the agonized shrieks of the vermin. " 'Tis a terrible thing to 'appen to anybeast, mates, terrible!"

Florian came scuttling up to join them, bringing a jug of cold mint tea, which they passed from one to the other. The hare wiped his mouth with the back of a paw. "Hmm, dreadful, I agree, but the blighters brought it upon themselves. I say, move over, you chaps, the verminll have somethin' else on their bally minds soon. Here comes Foremole with his stalwarts to chuck stones on 'em. Hah! Looks like my Noonvalers have joined 'em. What ho, Runk old lad, you taken to bein' a mole now?"

Roop and Muggle stifled giggles at the thought.

"Hurr hurr, 'twould take summ doin' t'be a spoiky mole, zurr!"

Runktipp helped the moles to lug large baskets of rock and masonry chunks over to the battlements. He winked at Florian. "I'm as good a mole as the next 'un. We all are. Ain't that right, Borrakul?"

The otter nodded stolidly as he hefted a basket. "Aye, we certainly are, matey, an' moles get better fed than performers, I can tell ye!"

Florian snorted. "Cheeky bounder. Go on then, be moles, all of ye, see if I jolly well care!"

Runktipp put on his best mole accent. "Gurr, Foremole zurr, do us'n's be abowt ready naow?"

Foremole waved a digging claw to his crew and the Noonvalers. "Hurr, moi 'earties, chuck umm o'er gudd'n'ard naow!"

On Foremole's command the joint crew of moles and performers grabbed the baskets and slung them forcefully over the parapet, scattering the contents on the attackers below.

Rimrose and others brought cool damp towels up to the defenders, who wiped their eyes and bathed their faces gratefully. Rimrose clasped Janglur's paw. "Somebeast told me that Skipper's out there. Oh dear, I do hope he's all right. D'you think they've captured him?"

Janglur chided his wife gently. "There y'go agin, worry worry all the time. First 'tis Song an' her friends, now it's Skipper's turn. I tell you, beauty, that ole riverdog's safe as a nut in its shell. He'd have a good laugh if'n he could see you now, frettin' an' fussin' o'er him. Skipper can take care of hisself better'n I can, believe me."

Rimrose bathed Janglur's heavy-lidded eyes carefully. "Well, if you say so I suppose Skipper's safe. I'm thankful that Song an' those two other young 'uns are well out o' this."

The squirrel warrior squeezed his wife's paw lightly. "Those three? Huh, I'll wager they're somewheres snug along a riverbank, feedin' their faces an' singing round a campfire!"

Rimrose smiled and nodded. "Aye, an' our Song's the one who'll be doing the singin'. Oh, mister Florian, let me bathe your eyes for you, they look sore."

Florian adopted his brave face, though his eyes were indeed streaming from the oily smoke. "Most kind of ye, marm. Confounded little smudge in the coiner of me left lamp here, p'raps you can get it. Nothin' like the thistledown touch of a pretty squirrel, wot wot!"

Mayon came from the south wall and reported everything quiet. Friar Butty, who had been watching the west wall, said the same. Janglur looked over to the north wall, where the Guosim shrew Splikker was stationed. "Wot's wrong with ole Splikker? Looks like he's lissenin' hard over there. Go an' see if anythin's amiss, Bargle."

The shrew slid off, crouching low. After a brief conversation with his comrade he came hurrying back. "Splikker reckons there's a steady noise over that way, comin' from nearby. Sounds like they're choppin' at somethin'."

Janglur and Rusvul went to the north wall to investigate. They crouched low alongside Splikker, listening to the steady ring of ax against timber. A leaf landed on Janglur's head. The squirrel studied it, then popped up to chance a quick scan of the woodland. He sat back down again, gnawing worriedly at his lip.

Rusvul looked at him. "Somethin's wrong, mate. What're they up to?"

Janglur passed him the leaf. "Oak! They're choppin' away at an ole giant three-topped oak. If'n it falls the wall could be breached, an' then we'd 'ave our paws full tryin' to stop 'em comin' in. We'll need t'get our thinkin' caps on, Rus. They could maybe fell a tree that size by tomorrer mornin' or midday."

Somewhere in the depths of Mossflower Wood, Skipper gritted his teeth as he sat on a streambank, tugging a broken spear from his leg. As he pulled, the otter Chieftain was giving himself a good telling-off. "Uuunj! Puddle-'eaded ole rivergo, that's wot you are, matey. Fancy, a great big lump like yoreself gittin' caught off guard by a lousy painted varmint. Ooh! Easy now, messmate, out she comes. Aaaaah . . . there now! Ferret spear ain't made that could lay a decent otter low. That'll teach yer t'jump quicker nex' time, an' keep yore eyes peeled too!" He sorted through the plants he had garnered from nearby. "Hmm, dockleaves, sanicle an' young burdock. That should do."

Crushing them together with pawfuls of bankmud, he applied the cooling poultice to his injured limb and bound the lot with a strip from his jerkin.

"Liddle Sister Sloey'd 'ave a fit if'n she saw this sloppy job, but it'll have t'do fer now. Right, set sail, matey, in we go!"

He slid awkwardly into the stream. Once in the water, however, the otter swam slowly and gracefully away into the night, going in the opposite direction to Redwall Abbey.

Only two creatures at a time could chop at the great oak. At first Vannan had set four to the task, but they got in each other's way until two suffered ax cuts. Raventail snorted impatiently at the Marlfox. "Kyre, arr, yousay bigtree be half dead, no takelong. Yakkacha!"

Vannan regarded the barbarian ferret disdainfully. "The tree is half dead, 'twill fall sooner or later. Patience seems to me a much better idea than charging in like your lot did. Screaming and yelling, with lighted torches to advertise your presence, what kind of stealth attack is that? They were ready for us long before we arrived at the wall."

Raventail took a pace back, executing a scornful bow. "Woah! Bigmagic fox be cleverer much much, scyoosee me!"

Vannan ignored the jibe, signaling to two water rats. "You and you, take over chopping. I'll make it work this time!"

As the water rats stepped in to take over from the two ferrets currently wielding the axes, a big arrow from a longbow felled one of the vermin.

On the walltop, Janglur fitted another shaft to his powerful weapon. "Ain't much to aim at, Rus, but 'tis all we can do to stop 'em."

Rusvul Reguba sighted down the arrow on his bow, then let the string slack with a sigh. "Tchaaaah! They could hide be'ind that oak an' chop away all season. Not much we can do about it, mate. The tree's goin' to fall sooner or later fer sure!"

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

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

Act 3

The Queens Island

_{Chapter 26}

As the pounding rush of waters enveloped Song she struck out wildly. Her world now consisted of a roaring, boiling melee, in which she was as helpless as a leaf in a hurricane. Water battered her eyes shut, gushing up her nostrils, down her ears and into her mouth. Without warning a powerful pair of talons latched on to her paws, like a drowning swimmer clutching a twig. Something hard struck her body: a jagged peak of rock, sticking up underwater. Heavy sodden feathers flapped slowly, embracing her. The squirrelmaid forced her eyes open for an instant and found herself facing a huge, hooked, amber beak. Then an eddy caught both Song and the osprey, whirling them around the rocky pinnacle like a pair of spinning tops. There was tension pulling at Song, from the rope tied about her waist, but then it slackened off with frightening suddenness. The side of Song's head thudded against the rock, knocking her senseless.

On the rocky edge of the waterfall, Dann felt the rope go slack. Numbly he drew in the line, stunned by what had happened. Behind him he could hear Dippler yelling hoarsely, "Song, where are you? Sooooong!"

Dann sat down with a groan, covering his eyes with both paws, trying to blot out the awful realization of tragedy. Dippler slapped him hard across his face, shouting at him over the roaring noise of falling waters.

"Get up, mate! Keep an eye on the place where she went down. I'm goin' to get Burble an' the boat. Wait here!"

Galvanized into action, Dann sprang upright. He found a broken branch and tied it to the rope's end. As Dippler raced away he saw Dann throwing the branch out into the water cascade, roaring, "Grab the branch if yore there, Song, grab the branch!"

Dippler clambered off over the wet stones, muttering aloud, "Leastways he's doin' somethin' instead o' sittin' there in a blinkin' trance!"

Song twisted and turned. Grandma Ellayo was standing right in front of her, talking, but her voice sounded strange. Rimrose and Janglur had tight hold of Song's paws, and Ellayo was speaking to them. "Rrrrrr! Should've threwed dem back in. Not fishes, rrrr no, only trouble. Glockglock!"

Now Ellayo was forcing Rimrose and Janglur to release their grip on Song, though her parents' paws felt .' unusually sharp and strong. Ellayo was speaking again. "Rrrrr! Use ye beak, dumb duck, use ye beak. Rrrrrr!"

The squirrelmaid's eyes opened slowly. She could not focus properly and seemed to be viewing things through a haze. Small snakelike creatures with long narrow beaks surrounded her head. One pecked Song sharply on her nosetip. Song sat up, shaking her head, sending the creatures scattering. When her vision cleared, a big bird to one side of her was cackling, "Gluck gluck gluck! Can't eat 'em, not fishes. Gluck gluck!"

The small creatures were not snakes, they were long-necked cormorant chicks. Her paws were freed by a full-grown male, obviously the father.

"Rrrrrr, we catch fishes, gluck gluck, you catch big eagle!"

The mother cormorant, whom Song had taken to be Ellayo, chanced a peck at the osprey. It did not stir.

"Glockglock, this bird deader'n deadfish, methinks!"

The male cormorant's strange blue eyes blinked scornfully. "Rrrreek! Eagle alive as me'n'you, wait'n'see!"

Song lay recovering her senses as the two cormorants began an argument, hopping about and fanning out their wings, while the chicks scurried this way and that to avoid being danced on or batted by an outstretched wing.

"Rrrraahh! Eagle alive, squiddle too. Rrrrrr! Not in my nest thankee! Glock! They'll eat my eggchicks, gerrrrremout!"

"Gluckgluck! Don't be a daftduck, eagle an squiddle won't eat eggchicks, I saved their lifes. Rrrrr!"

"Rrrrr, glock! Shutcha beak, saved their lifes, rrrrrekk! I say gerremout, not stayin' in my nest, squiddles, eagles, chukk! Not stoppin' heeeeeere!"

While the furious debate raged on, the little chicks never let up their ceaseless cries.

"Glick glick glick glick!"

Song took stock of her position. She was at the center of a large untidy twig and grass nest sprawled atop a rock shelf, somewhere downstream. To her left she could vaguely see the falls and hear their distant roar. On other parts of the ledge were similar nests, all occupied by cormorant families. At odd moments one of the birds would plunge off the ledge into the broad deep stream, disappearing underwater for quite a while, then suddenly bobbing up a good distance away, usually holding a wriggling fish in its beak.

Beside her, the osprey opened one flecked golden eye. Immediately all activity ceased, the cormorants frozen in fear. The big fish eagle's dangerous beak opened wide. Song held her breath. It was a frightening sight, but then the osprey retched, spewing forth a fountain of water. Shaking its body vigorously, the big bird struggled into a standing position. Both the fierce eyes were open now, and Song quailed under their savage scrutiny. A heavily taloned claw placed itself lightly on her paw.

"Yerrah bonny beast, lassie, ye saved the life o' Megraw, an' ah'll no' ferget it. Whit name d'ye go by?"

Song shook the taloned claw warmly. "I'm called Songbreeze, sir, but you may call me Song."

Something resembling a smile hovered on the eagle's fierce face. "Ach! Don't be callin' me sir, Song mah lass. Ah'm known by the name o' Mighty Megraw, but Megraw'll do jus' fain." Then the eagle turned to the male cormorant, nodding politely. "An' mah thanks to ye, guid bird, fer pullin' us frae yon water."

The female cormorant averted her head, speaking as if to nobeast in particular as she hugged and plumped her feathers. "Rrrrr! Squiddles'n'eagles can't stop 'ere. Gluck gluck, no!"

Megraw fixed her with a murderous stare. "D'ye no say? Well, mah compliments to ye, marm, me an' mah guid friend'll no stay longer than the time et takes us tae walk away frae here. Though if ye look doon yer beak at us like that again, ah'll eat ye for sure an' give yer mate a bit o' peace. Good day to ye now. Come on, Song mah wee lassie."

Song followed Megraw as he limped from the nest, nodding a silent and grateful farewell to the male cormorant as she went.

Making their way along the bank, they left the rocky area and sat to rest on a mossy sward. Night was beginning to fall. Megraw nodded his head in both directions. "Well, which way noo, Song?"

The squirrelmaid looked back toward the waterfall. "I have three friends, but I parted from them at the top of the falls when I jumped in after you. They'll be searching for me now, I expect. Perhaps we'd best stay here until they come along this way to find me. What d'you think, Megraw?"

"Aye, we'll do that, though ah'm powerful hungry the noo."

Song undid the broken rope from about her waist, surprised that her Leafwood stick was still thrust into it. "You stay there and rest, mister Megraw. I'll go and find us some fruit and berries. Should be some hereabouts."

The osprey squinched his eyes up in disgust. "Fruit'n'berries, did ye say? YeTl poison yersel' fer sure, lass! You go an' search out yer ain vittles, an' leave me here tae fish. An' don't call me mister. The name's Megraw, d'ye ken."

Song had not strayed far when she found blackberries and some fine apples. As she returned to the bank, Megraw averted his head politely and swallowed. "A guid spot this, ah got mahseT a plump wee grayling. But fear not, Song, 'tis gone now. Ah mind how the sight o' flesh-eaters can upset those who live on roots an' berries an' sich nonsense. Nae wonder they cannae fly!"

As night drew on the strange pair sat by the stream telling each other their life stories. When Song had told Megraw about the quest she and her friends were on, he perked up immediately. It turned out that the osprey was a wanderer. A lone, wide-ranging eagle, he had come down from the far northeast. In his travels he had discovered a big inland lake, where the fish were plentiful. All pike, but that made little difference to him, he was very partial to a big pike. But one night, when Megraw was resting in a partially constructed nest he was building on the lakeshore, he was ambushed by a mob of magpies. The birds took him completely by surprise and thrashed him. The osprey managed to escape with three things: his life, a broken wing, and a massively injured pride. He had traveled far from the lake, finally settling on the falls as a place where other creatures could not bother him. Megraw stared at the stream, his wild eyes glittering with the light of vengeance.

"Ah swear on mah mother's egg, ah'll find that lake again. Aye, someday ah'll gang back there an meet wi' yon maggypies tae settle mah score with them. Mark mah words, Song, they'll wish they'd ne'er been hatched when the wrath o' Mighty Megraw descends on 'em! Ach, but whit can a bird do wi' a broke wing? Can ye tell me that, Song?"

The squirrelmaid stroked Megraw's wing, which flopped uselessly at his side. She had come to like the big osprey immensely in the short time she had known him; he was fierce but well mannered, a true warrior. Also she loved the way he pronounced her name as Sawng.

"Well, you could come with me and my friends when we get together. We're searching for the lake too, you know. How would you like that, Megraw?"

The osprey blew out his chest to alarming proportions and winked slyly at his new friend. "Ah'd like that fine, lass!"

Burble, Dippler and Dann did not rest that night. Each of them was convinced that Song was dead. Just one look at the mighty waterfall was enough. Nobeast could go over its edge and live, but none would admit it, so they kept up brave faces, reassuring each other. Now that Dann had snapped out of his despairing mood he was acting like a confident leader.

"Right, y'know what mister Florian would say, there's only one bally thing for it, chaps, wot wot! We'll scale down the cliff side, lower the jolly old boat on what's left of our rope, an' get to the bottom sharpish!"

Though Burble and Dippler felt as if leaden weights had been implanted in their chests at the loss of Song, they agreed with a great show of false optimism.

"Yiss yiss, an' I wager the first ould creature we find down there'll be the bold Song, eh?"

"Haha, right, an' she'll say, Wot took you lot so long, you should've come down the quick way like I did!"

It was the worst night of their lives, climbing down a spray-drenched cliff face, with the waterfall pounding along on their left side. Dann found that the broken length of rope proved invaluable. He would lower himself down, then have the Swallow lowered to him before guiding the other two safely on their descent. No easy task by night, even though the rocks on that side were not smooth. But with great good fortune, lots of rests on ledges and good cooperation between them combined with Dann's great climbing skills, they had covered halfway by dawn. Stopping on a small crag, they made a scratch breakfast.

Dippler peered down. He could see the pool below the falls through the misty spray. "I'd say we could make it by midday, if things go all right."

"Yiss yiss, midday, or even just before. We'd best save some vittles. Miss Song'll be about ready fer lunch when we arrive."

Dann sighed heavily, but managed to force a smile. "Come on, you two, let's get goin' instead of guzzlin'."

About midmorning Song confided her thoughts to Megraw on the streambank.

"Suppose they went right by us during the night? We didn't have anything to make a signal fire with, and my friends could quite easily have rowed past in our boat, not knowing we're here."

Megraw flapped the useless wing at his side. "Aye, ye could be right, Song. What d'ye suggest?"

The squirrelmaid stood up, pointing downstream. "I think we'd do well walking slowly along the bank in clear sight. I'll bet they find us before the day's through."

The osprey rose and walked along with her. "Ach, anythin's better than squattin' in one place, or sittin' in yon fussy auld cormorant bird's nestie. Did ye hear her?"

Megraw could not help chuckling as Song imitated the cormorant.

"Rrrr! Squiddles'n'eagles not stay in my nest, glock no. They not fishes, gluck gluck, eat up my eggchicks. Rrrrr!"

"Haw haw haw! Did ye mind the look on yon laddie's beak when I threatened tae eat his wife? He looked fair happy so he did!"

Mokkan could see the lake in the distance. The Marlfox stood on a hilly rise where the river flowed downward toward the huge body of water. He watched the wild rapids plunging down to the lake, thinking. Now he had come this far there was no point in having the logboat wrecked with himself and the tapestry aboard. He chose two of his remaining water rats.

"You and you, get in the boat and take it down to the lake. The rest of you, pick up that tapestry. Be careful with it. We'll walk along the bank and meet the boat at the lake's edge."

Stolidly obedient, one of the two rats got into the logboat and picked up a paddle. However, his companion took one look at the pounding, rockstrewn rapids and stayed where he was, safe on shore. Mokkan patted him on the back reassuringly. "What's the matter, afraid of a little rough ride?"

The water rat's eyes were wide with fear as he nodded dumbly. Mokkan shrugged, smiling at the rodent. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. Stay here."

The Marlfox's ax flashed in the sunlight as he slew the unfortunate beast with a single hard blow. Still smiling, he pointed to another water rat. "Would you like to stay here with him?"

The rat leapt into the logboat and seized a paddle. "No, sire, I'll take the boat down to the lake!"

Mokkan stowed the ax back in his belt. "Good. We'll meet you by the shore!"

Dann and his friends reached the bottom of the falls at precisely midday. They searched the area as best they could until nigh on late noon. Dippler and Burble came back from their reconnaissance to find the young squirrel seated despondently on the ground, shaking his head.

"There's not a sign of Song or that osprey, not a feather, a scrap of rope, nothing!"

Ever the optimist, Burble nodded in agreement. "Yiss yiss, that only means one thing, Dann me bucko. Song's alive an' safe somewheres. Yiss yiss, y'know wot they say, no news is good news!"

Dippler flung out a paw in the direction of the water. "Then which way d'ye think she's gone?"

Dann was suddenly struck with an idea. "The Swallow should tell us. Let's get away from this area to where the water's smoother. Then we'll launch her and see which way she carries us. The current goes the same way for anything on the water. Right?"

"Yiss yiss! Good ole Dann, yore right, mate!"

Finding a good spot, they launched the boat and sat in it, leaving their paddles shipped, so that the water could carry them along. When they were out in the mainstream of the wide swirling pool beneath the waterfall, Dann pointed off to his right. "Look, there's a broad stream running off that way. Maybe that's the way Song went?"

Dippler watched the prow of the Swallow nosing along in the water. "Maybe, but it ain't the way we're bound, pals. Look dead ahead."

There was another high cliff in front of them. The water was running straight into a cave beneath the cliffs opposite the falls. The Swallow picked up speed, and they braced themselves. The current was sucking them toward the dark hole. Had they launched the Swallow on the other side of the pool they would have run into the stream, but the realization came too late.

Dann grabbed his paddle, shouting, "Back water, try to turn her or we'll go right into that hole!"

But they could not fight the inevitable. Hard as they tried, the little boat was sucked into the dark gaping hole, despite their heroic efforts with the paddles. One moment they were sweating and striving in the bright sunlight, next instant they were swept into the black chasm and into another waterfall, which plunged straight down underground.

Chapter 27

Tragglo Spearback and Friar Butty were in the kitchens making oatmeal scones for breakfast. Tragglo pulled trays of the hot scones from the ovens and laid them out in neat rows. Old Friar Butty followed him up, making a sloping slice into the top of each scone, until the whole batch was ready. Then Tragglo took an earthenware jar and a wooden spoon, and starting at the first tray he began filling the slice in each scone with a gob of thick, fawn-colored honey. Friar Butty followed, placing a thin slice of crystallized plum in the honey. They worked dutifully and well, until Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop sauntered into the kitchens, sniffing the air appreciatively. "I say, you chaps, somethin' smells jolly good, wot!"

Tragglo menaced the gluttonous hare with his honey spoon. "Them's for breakfast, mister Florian. You put a paw near our scones an' I'll raise a lump on it wi' this 'ere spoon!"

Florian managed a look of outraged innocence. "Steady on, old lad, I'm no blinkin' scone-robber. I merely popped in, so t'speak, to see if you needed any assistance. No need to accuse a chap of felonious intentions on your scones!"

Friar Butty continued his work, keeping one eye upon the hare. "Well, we don't need any assistance, so t'speak, thank you. I thought you were supposed to be up on the walltops defending us from vermin attack. What are you doing down here?"

Florian continued to sniff the aroma of fresh-baked scones, striding up and down the kitchens with an air of exaggerated boredom, getting closer to the cooling trays all the time. "Doin' down here, me? Oh, this'n'that, y'know. Gets rather tedious standin' on a flippin' walltop all night, watchin' those vermin types choppin' away at a tree. Jolly borin', wot!"

Butty looked up from his work. "Which tree? What's going on up there?"

Florian pulled a wry face at the stout Tragglo, who had placed himself in front of the scones. "Over by the north wall, great old three-topped oak, half dead but amazin'ly thick. Those bally villains are hackin' away at it with axes. They want to fell it so that it'll fall against the wall an' provide a road into the Abbey for them. Fiddley dee! It'll take 'em all season t'chop that monster down. I say, what're you chaps smilin' at? Nothin' to be happy about, really. If that tree falls you'll have a mob o' vermin in here pinchin' your breakfast scones, wot!"

Tragglo put down his honey jar and spoon. "Big half-dead ole three-topped oak at the north wall, d'ye say?"

"Rather, great blinkin' hunk of a thing. Must be nigh on a squillion seasons old!"

Friar Butty relinquished the crystallized fruit. Still smiling broadly, he wiped both paws on his apron. "Tell me, how long have they been chopping at the old oak?"

"Oh, not too long really. Couldn't say for sure. Why?"

Tragglo was making for the door, a huge grin on his face. "Come on, Butty, we got to see this!" The old Recorder followed him eagerly.

Florian pursued them, snatching two scones from a tray. "Wait f'me, chaps. Ooh, ooh, these scones are scorchin' hot, wot!"

Janglur Swifteye paced the ramparts, arrow on bowstring, quivering with frustration. "Can't see the scum to get a clear shot, Rus!"

Rusvul Reguba sat down, covering his ears with both paws. "Chop chop chop. The sound o' those confounded axes is drivin' me mad, matey!"

Butty, Tragglo and Florian climbed the north wallsteps, with Cregga, Foremole Gubbio and his mixed crew of moles and Noonvalers following behind. Tragglo peeped over the battlements and laughed aloud. "Hohoho! Any moment now they be in for a real surprise!"

Janglur looked at the Cellarhog strangely. "I don't see nothin' funny in all this, mate. Neither'll you if that oak falls atop the wall!"

Cregga placed a placating paw on the angry squirrel. "I'm sorry, friend. Let me explain. That old tree is rotted right through its middle due to big stinging termites. If it weren't night you could see the hive too, in the fork where the three tops meet. The largest honeybee hive in all Mossflower rests in yonder oak, but we've never been able to get at the honey because of the bees and termites. The bees guard their hive and the termites guard the tree. As soon as the vermin strike soft wood they're in big trouble!"

Foremole Gubbio shook his head. "They'm bumbly-bees and turmiters be a-takin' ee arter solstice nap. Hurr, woe to 'e who wakes 'em up, zurr, burr aye!"

Borrakul peeped over the walltop, his curiosity aroused by the news. "When can we expect somethin' t'happen, marm?"

Cregga felt about until she found somewhere comfortable to sit. "As soon as the axes stop that hard chopping noise and hit the soft rotted wood."

As Vannan watched two new axbeasts take the place of two weary ones, Raventail scoffed, "Kye arr, we be oldbeasts by time bigtree fall!"

The Marlfox ignored the gibe, listening to the steady ring of axblades against oakwood.

Chop! Chop! Chop!

One of the water rats wielding an ax stopped suddenly, wincing as he rubbed furiously at his cheek. Vannan glared at him irately. "What have you stopped for?"

"Something stung me, marm!"

"Idiot! Get back to work or my ax will sting your neck!"

Chop! Chop! Chop! Thunk! Whumph!

The Marlfox's pale eyes shone triumphantly. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Swing those axes harder!"

As she spoke, Vannan drew in her breath sharply. Raising her left footpaw, she flattened the big termite that was biting her. At the same instant her right footpaw was attacked by several more of the angry insects. In no time at all, Vannan was hopping from one paw to the other, swiping at termites.

Raventail stepped back, laughing. "Kyaahahaharr! Bigmagic fox dancin' lokka lokka!"

Both water rats had ceased chopping and were ' slapping their bodies all over, maddened by the fiery stabs of pain. An ominous buzzing filled the air. Raventail was still laughing as a swarm of bees descended on his head, where they went to work with a vengeance. Now the very air hummed and the ground was alive. Insects flooded from the three-topped oak, biting and stinging anything they encountered. The moment they felt the first stings, Ascrod and Predak fled the scene, leaving Raventail, Vannan and the waiting crowd of barbarians and water rats to their tormentors. The would-be invaders screamed and roared, some throwing themselves flat on the ground, unwittingly escaping the bees only to writhe amid the termites. Others tried to scale trees, driven almost crazy with agony as bees swarmed all over them. Those who fled were pursued by the bees, and they ran as if they were dancing some insane jig, slapping at the termites that clung doggedly on. Bushes were trampled, low-hanging branches snapped, and the night air rang with screeches and yells.

Tragglo Spearback began herding everybeast down from the wall, cautioning as they went. "Go easy now. Don't 'urry, move slow an' stay calm. Those bees ain't flown up this 'igh yet, but they soon will."

Dawn arrived in pale rosewashed sky, scattered with small cream-hued clouds. Cregga Badgermum stood in the Abbey doorway with Ellayo, listening to the massed chorus of birdsong resounding in the woodlands. Ellayo looked over toward the north wall. "Birdies sound happy an' joyous this mornin', Cregga."

"Aye, so they do. I hear thrushes, blackbirds, finches and robins tooall manner of our feathered friends. Do you know what they're doing, Ellayo?"

"Oh, yes. They're thankin' the vermin for givin' 'em such a fine breakfast of bees an' termites. Kind of the foebeasts, wasn't it?"

"Indeed it was, though I don't think they'll be bothered about birdsong right now. Mud poultices and dock-leaves will be more their concern this fine morning."

"Let that be a lesson t'the rogues, I say. None of ours were stung, were they, Cregga?"

"Only one. That was Florian, who had a smear of honey on the tip of his nose. That'll teach him to steal scones!"

"Hush. Here he comes now."

The hare looked a comical sight with his nose swathed in a poultice of dockleaf, motherwort and pond mud. He strode toward the pond in search of fresh mud, pursued by several Dibbuns and Tragglo, who had made up a little ditty about the incident, which he sang with evident gusto.

"Ho there am I, a liddle bee,

A-livin' in my ole oak tree,

When some bad varmint wid an ax,

Deals my 'ome a good few whacks.

Oh buzz, sez I, now wot's amiss,

Good gracious me, I can't 'ave this.

So buzz, buzz, buzz, I flies right out,

Wags my sting an' looks about,

Buzz buzz buzz, who can I sting?

Whoever did this wicked thing.

So right up in the air I fly,

An' there the villain I espy,

Buzz buzz buzz, the one I chose,

Had honey smeared all on his nose,

Buzz buzz buzz, aye, that's him there,

That 'orrible funny-lookin' hare. .

Steal my honey, that ain't fair,

Yore goin' to pay the price, proud sir,

Buzz buzz buzz, so down I goes,

An' stings him hard upon his nose,

I made him leap an' howl an' wail,