The Sable Quean

Being the resourceful creature he was, and fearing for his young life, Diggs took what he considered to be the appropriate course of action. He bit her footpaw sharply.

The huge badgermaid roared, instinctively raising her footpaw. Diggs shot off like a rocket, straight back into Althier. Heaving the broken front door upright, he blocked the entrance with it, yelling out in panic, "I say, steady on there, old gel. I'm not a bloomin' foebeast--I'm a friend. I'm searchin' for some young uns. Why d'you want to jolly well slay me, wot?"

A terrific thud from outside knocked the door flat-- Diggs found himself laid out under it. Then the door was lifted and flung to one side. With awesome strength, the

300

badgermaid reached in and lifted him bodily out. She sat Diggs down against the oak trunk.

This time she sounded calmer, a mite penitent even. "Er, if you're not a foebeast, then who are you?"

Diggs gingerly touched his snout where it had been hit by the fallen door. "Name's Meliton Gubthorpe Digglethwaite, Subaltern of the Long Patrol, late of Salamandastron. An' I think you've broken my flippin' hooter, beltin' that bloomin' door down like that. Couldn't ye have knocked?"

The badgermaid sat down beside him. "Salama ... what?"

Diggs plucked a dockleaf and dabbed at his snout. "Salamandastron, but don't concern y'self with that right now. Y'can call me Diggs, everybeast does--an' pray, what do they call you, when you ain't knockin' doors down atop of 'em, wot?"

She wrapped the outsized sling around her shoulders. "I'm Ambrevina Rockflash of the Eastern Shores, but I get called Ambry a lot."

Diggs was about to shake paws with her, but he saw the girth of Ambry's paws and thought better of it. "Well, pleased to meet ye, I'm sure, Ambry. I say, you don't happen to have any vittles with you? I'm absoballylutely famished, ain't eaten in ages, y'know."

The badgermaid went back to the bushes where they had first encountered each other. She brought out a large satchel with shoulder straps. Opening it, she produced a few pears, some ryebread and a chunk of yellow cheese.

Forgetting his bruised snout, Diggs tucked in. "Good grief, a chap could lose a few teeth on this bread'n'cheese. Still, the pears are soft, wot. Now, who's this friend you seek, a family member, mayhaps?"

Ambry passed Diggs another pear. "Do you ever have strange dreams, Diggs?"

The tubby hare nodded. "Cheese'n'pickles for late supper

301

in the jolly old mess, that always does it. Huh, dreams, flippin' nightmares, more like. But why d'you ask?"

Ambry's brown eyes took on a distant look. "Back on the far Eastern Shores, I was having the same dream for some seasons. It's a journey I want to take. I've got this yearning to be in a certain place, I must go there--yet I've never set eyes on it, except in dreams."

Diggs held up a paw. "Stop right there, Ambry. Don't tell me, let me guess. This place you're wearin' your paws out t'see, is it a big mountain on the shores of the sea?"

The badgermaid was thunderstruck. "How did you know?"

Diggs took a bite of the cheese, probing with a paw to see if he had loosened a tooth on it. "Remember that word y'couldn't get your tongue around? Salamandastron, that's the name of it, Mountain of the Mighty Badger Lords an' headquarters of the jolly old Long Patrol. Beg pardon, carry on with your story, wot."

Ambry continued. "After my father died, I could never get along with my brothers. So, early one morning I packed my satchel and set out to find the place of my dreams. That was at the start of spring season, and I had no real direction, just wandering willy-nilly. Well, I had been roaming for some time when one day, it was at the beginning of summer, I noticed I was being followed by a young riverdog."

Diggs cut in. "By riverdog, I take it y'mean otter?"

Ambry nodded her handsome striped head. "Aye. He had no kin to speak of, and not much to say for himself. Still, we got on well enough, sharing the cooking and foraging, watching out for one another. One night, we made camp by a river, slept under some rock ledges not far from it. I woke the next morning, and he wasn't there.

"So I thought he'd gone to fish for our breakfast--he was a good fisherbeast. I lay about a bit, then went to find him along the riverbank. He was nowhere to be seen. Then

302

I saw signs of a scuffle. I found the light javelin he had made for himself. I found the vermin pawtracks, too, and I knew he'd been taken. So I had to find him. The trouble is, I'm no great tracker, I lost the trail many times. How I stumbled on this place I'm still not sure. Diggs, do you think he's somewhere around here?"

The tubby hare tossed away a pear core. "I'm pretty sure he was, Ambry, but he ain't now, matter of fact. None of 'em are. What you were tellin' me was a familiar story. Y'see, there's a horde of vermin call themselves the Ravagers. They've been stealin' young uns left, right an' flippin' centre. I'm with some shrews, a Warrior mole an' a chum of mine called Buck. We trailed the vermin an' the others to this place--Althier, they call it. Trouble was, by the time we got here an' mounted a surprise attack, the blighters had all taken off. Don't know where they are, or the young uns. My lot went to track 'em, an' I got left behind, lost, like y'self, wot. I say, it'd be a super idea if we teamed up an' got on the trail, wot. We'd stand as much chance of findin' them as Buck, an' that confounded Jango Logathing, he's the Guosim Chief. Huh, Jango ain't too fussy on me, y'know."

Ambry stood up, helping Diggs to his paws. She smiled at the tubby hare, to whom she was taking a liking. "I think you're right, Diggs. We may be the very pair to find them. Let's scout around until we find some tracks. You take charge. Which way do we go?"

The irrepressible hare waggled his paw in the air, then bent his ears backward. "Er, that way!"

They pushed off into the undergrowth with Diggs leading the way, though he did not have a clue where they were going--small details like that did not concern him. He called out cheerily to his newfound friend, "I say, Ambry, what's this friend of yours called? Just so I can shout to him if I see a young otter in the distance."

Ambrevina Rockflash unwound her long, hefty sling. "Flandor, that's what he's called. Flandor!"

303

The unexpected rain at dawn spattered down on the young ones at the watermeadow island where they had been sleeping out in the open. It started the littlest babes crying. Midda rose grumpily. With the help of Tura and the Witherspyk twins, she herded the infants beneath the leafy canopy of a weeping willow, where it was relatively dry.

Tura glanced up at the bruised, heavy clouds. "Wonder how long this lot's goin' to last?"

The Guosim maid moved into the tree shelter. She was not in a good mood, never having liked rain. "Don't matter if'n it lasts all season, we've still got t'get some food for the little uns. That'll mean a proper soakin' an' no mistake!"

Trying to be helpful, Jinty snapped off a fern at its base. She held it out to Midda. "My granny Crumfiss always holds one of these over her head when it's raining, like an umbrella."

Grabbing the fern, Midda snapped it in two and flung it from her. "Oh, does she now? Well, I ain't no granny hog, traipsin' about holdin' a stupid fern over me head. I'm a Guosim, see!"

"Hahaharr! Ye look more like a wet mousey t'me."

Triggut Frap had been watching them. He stood a short distance away, with mousebabe Diggla tucked beneath his ragged cloak. The mad hog made an exaggerated bow. "Good mornin', friends, an' wot are yew doin' wid yer-selves on this fine day?"

Tura glared at him. "We're tryin' t'keep dry--shelterin' from the rain, that's what we're doin'!"

Triggut patted little Diggla's head. "Did yew hear that, liddle mousey? Shelterin' from the rain, if y'please. Ole Triggut thought they'd be hard at work, buildin' my fine house."

Jinty had plucked another fern. She held it over her head. "Build a house in this downpour?"

Triggut underwent a sudden mood change. He snarled,

304

"Aye, that's wot yew lot are here t'do. Now, get to work. A drop o' rain won't kill yew!"

Midda pawed Jinty to one side. She faced Triggut belligerently. "Lissen, y'can go an' boil yore crazy head. We ain't workin' in this weather, an' ye can't make us. Go on, wot are ye goin' t'do about that?"

Triggut yanked the mousebabe up on his rope lead. "Heeheehee, not a lot, but I think I'll do a spot o' pike fishin'. This un should make good bait. Heehee!"

Diggla struggled helplessly as the crazed hog jiggled him up and down on the rope.

"Waaaah! Don't let 'im throw Diggla t'the pikers!"

Tura stepped quickly out into the rain. "Alright, you win. We'll start work right away. But we'll need tools--spades to dig, an' axes to chop down trees, an' sharp blades to trim 'em up with."

Triggut wiped his leaky blind eye, shaking his head until a few spikes rattled from it. "Axes, spades an' sharp blades? Hahahahaaarrr!" He bared his blackened tooth stubs viciously. "Triggut Frap might well be mad, but he ain't plain daft!"

Jiddle, who had not spoken until now, shrugged. "Well, sir, how d'ye expect us to build this house of yours without any tools to do the job?"

Triggut answered flatly, leaving no room for argument. "Yew kin dig with y'paws. Yew've got paws, haven't yew? An' there's plenty o' fallen trees on this island without havin' to chop any down. Anythin' else yew need, well, I'm sure yew can think of a way to get it done. After all, yews are the bright young uns with brains. Me, I'm only a pore crazybeast. Go on now, get to it, afore I decide t'go fishin' for big, wild, starvin' pikefish. They'll rip anythin' to bits, even a nice liddle mousey like this un. Hahaha ooo hahaarrr!"

Triggut lingered near the water's edge, stirring the surface and watching the pike rise. They had long, sinister

305

greenish-brown bodies, with lime-hued spots; their ravenous jaws gaped wide in search of food. The sleek monsters gathered, waiting.

Mousebabe Diggla tugged on the rope to get as far away from the water as he could, pleading with his friends, " 'Urry h'up an' builda big 'ouse, Diggla not likes this beast. Whaw, 'e smell h'orful, pew stinky!"

Jinty saw Triggut beginning to tug on the rope, eyeing the water. She called sternly to Diggla, "You naughty liddle snip, don't talk about Mister Triggut like that. Mind your manners, please!"

It was an uneasy truce, and a very wet one, at that. On the tacit agreement that the smallest babes would be more hindrance than help, the main participants began work. With a pointed twig, Tura scratched out a rectangle on the ground. Inside of this shape, they commenced clearing grass, ferns, brush and other vegetation. They toiled away, with steam rising from their sodden coats.

After a while, Jinty complained, "Ooh, my back's killing me. I can't carry on like this--I'll have to lie down and rest."

Midda muttered gruffly to the young Witherspyk maid, "Just keep goin', mate. Try not to think of yore aches an' pains, but just imagine wot we'll do to that scabby nutbag when we get the chance. That'll help!"

Surprisingly, it did. Midda smiled inwardly, listening to the hogtwins gritting savagely in low voices as they tore out roots and stones from the muddy ground.

"I'll strangle Triggut Frap with me own paws when I get hold of the brute!"

"Aye, workin' us like slaves an' threatenin' to have our mousebabe eaten by pike. Oooh, just give me a short time an' a long stick. By thunder, I'll show him!"

Tura rubbed shoulders with the seething pair. "Not if'n I gets to him first, ye won't. I'll feed him, not Diggla, t'the pikefish, scrap by scrap!"

306

Midda chuckled. "Who, that dirty, filthy ole scum? Huh, the fish'll spit him back as soon as they get a mouthful of Triggut, believe me!"

Jinty could not suppress a giggle. "Teehee, maybe that'll be our way off this island. Feed the crazy hog to the pike an' poison 'em all!"

Jiddle did a fair impression of a pike which had tasted Triggut's flesh. "Yurk! Oh, 'elp me, I'm poisoned, goin' mad an' dyin' all at the same time. Hahaha!"

Tura joined him. "Yaarggh! An' t'think we imagined he was our friend. Gurrrgh!"

Triggut Frap's harsh voice cut into their merriment. "Sharrap an' keep workin'. I don't know wot yew lot 'ave got to laugh about. Now, work, or I go fishin'!"

Saturated, mud-spattered and sore-pawed, the young captives laboured on in silence. However, Triggut could not stop them thinking their vengeful thoughts.

307

BOOK FOUR The Battle of Redwall Abbey

308

[blank page]

309

25

It was late evening before the rain ceased. Buckler, Axtel, Jango and the Guosim shrews emerged from Mossflower's dripping woodlands at the east wallgate of Redwall. Their progress had been somewhat hindered--Axtel's footpaw wound had slowed him down considerably.

Following the code of the Long Patrol, Buckler never left a wounded comrade behind. In fact, he had spent most of the march from Althier assisting the Warrior mole, whose injury had left him with a permanent limp. The worry uppermost in the young hare's mind was that Zwilt might reach the Abbey before he could. However, he felt reassured by the relative quiet and calm which surrounded Redwall.

Log a Log Jango was also relieved. "Well, at least we didn't arrive in the midst of an invasion, mate. Wonder wot happened t'the vermin?"

Buckler took a pace back, peering up at the walltop. "Here comes a sentry--we'll soon find out."

Jango shouted to the figure patrolling the battlements, "Ahoy, you, there, let us in, will ye? We're Guosim!"

It was Furm, Jango's wife, carrying a long cloak and hood propped up on an oven paddle. She peeped over the ramparts at the group below. "Is that you, Jango Bigboat?

310

Well, I ain't lettin' ye in unless you've brought our little uns back with ye!"

Buckler answered sharply, "Don't fool about, marm. Redwall could be under attack at any moment. Open this wallgate on the double!"

Furm pattered speedily down the wallsteps and drew back the bolts, admitting the group.

Buckler and Jango rushed past her without a word, up the steps to the walltops, with the rest following them. Buckler rapped out orders. "Spread out along the walkways. See if ye can catch sight of the Ravagers before night falls!"

Skipper and Oakheart were on the west threshold above the main door. The Otter Chieftain noted Buckler's anxiety as he hurried up.

"Buck, wot's happened? Did ye get the babes back?"

The young hare shook his head. "Not yet, Skip, but we know that Zwilt an' his vermin are marchin' on the Abbey. Thank the seasons we arrived back ahead of them!"

Shielding his brow with a paw, he peered out into the setting sun on the western plain. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, he repeated the action. "Look out there, Skip--follow my paw. What d'ye see?"

The otter gazed keenly at the crimsoning sky and darkening horizon before speaking. "There's somebeasts there, I think. A bit far off to tell."

Oakheart Witherspyk drew an elegant crystal monocle from his belt pouch, declaring vainly, "I don't really need this, as I have perfect eyesight. However, I sometimes use it for long-distance objects. Hmm, let me see now, out there, y'say?"

Buckler continued pointing. "Aye, sir, due west."

Squinting his right eyelid around the monocle, he gazed steadily westward. Returning the monocle to his pouch, the florid hedgehog nodded gravely. "I fear you are right, sirrah. Even though they are trying to conceal themselves, there appears to be quite a number of crea

311

tures out there. Whether they are vermin, alas, who can say from this distance?"

Buckler questioned Oakheart further. "About how many would you say there are?"

The Witherspyk patriarch shrugged eloquently. "Fourscore, mayhap five. I wouldn't venture to say accurately. But it seems only half the number who turned up outside our walls latterly."

Buckler nodded. "Thank you, Oakie. Oh, by the way, you haven't seen anything of Diggs yet, have you?"

Skipper shook his head. "No, mate. He ain't turned up here yet. Listen, you look tired'n'hungry, Buck. Go with Jango an' his Guosim. Get some vittles in ye an' take a breather. Go on, I'll double the guard on this wall an' keep an eye on the flatlands. If the vermin make a move, you'll be the first to know."

Buckler went gratefully, though as he approached the Abbey's main door, he was intercepted by Abbess Marjoram, who cautioned him, "Supper's being served in Great Hall at the moment. I've sent Jango and his shrews to take theirs down in Cavern Hole. I suggest you join them, Buck."

The young hare was puzzled. "Why's that, marm?"

Marjoram explained, "Because Dymphnia Witherspyk and your brother's wife, Clarinna, and many others who are concerned to hear news of the missing Dibbuns are supping in Great Hall. I know you don't want a lot of questions and tears, especially from Clarinna. But I have faith in you, Buck. You'll find them, if anybeast can. Go on now, off to Cavern Hole with you."

Foremole and Big Bartij joined the diners in Cavern Hole. Over barley broth and mushroom and gravy pasties supplemented by tankards of October Ale, they discussed the imminent danger.

Buckler finished his supper hastily; he already had a solution. "We'll need some of those long old cloaks they're usin' on the walltops. Once it's dark, I'll sneak out by the

312

north wallgate. Maybe if I get close enough, I can learn what they're up to. Those old cloaks should give good cover--the dark'll help, too."

Jango rose, patting his stomach. "Right, mate, me'n my Guosim are with ye!"

"Hurr, an' oi, too, zurr. We'm bain't in no rush, so ee h'injured futtpaw won't cause ee no bother." Axtel Sturnclaw shoved the heavy war hammer into his broad belt. Everybeast saw from the look in his fierce eyes that it would be foolish to try stopping him.

Foremole Darbee nodded his admiration of Axtel. "Bur-hoo, oi'd toiler a wurrier loike ee anywheres, zurr. You'm a gurt h'example to ee molers."

Big Bartij chuckled. "He surely is. Mind if'n an ole hog tags along, Mister Buck?"

Buckler bowed courteously. "Only too pleased, my friends. Sniffy, would you do the honour of being front scout?"

The Guosim Tracker licked gravy from his chin. "It'd be me pleasure, sir, an' I 'opes when we gets back 'ere that brekkist'll taste as good as supper did!"

Darkness had descended over the west flatlands as they forded the ditch on the far edge of the outside path. The party plunged waist deep into the channel, which was swirling with water from the recent rains. Crouching low, with drawn weapons, they scurried over the plain, travelling due west.

Slightly ahead of the group, Sniffy scouted the land, pointing out ground-nesting birds, so they would not step on them and startle them into flight.

Buckler spread his force out into a skirmishing line, staying in front of them but behind Sniffy. He tried to concentrate his mind on the task at paw, though his thoughts kept straying to Diggs. The tubby rascal, where had he gone? Was he in any trouble? Would he be safe?

The tick and cheeping sound of distant buntings brought him back to reality. He glanced about, judging the distance

313

they had travelled from the Abbey. Again, his thoughts strayed, this time to the stolen babes. Pitiful little mites, how they must be missing their friends and families! Were they still alive? He banished the idea from his mind, plodding onward.

"Mister Buck, a word with ye, sir--you, too, Chief."

Log a Log Jango and Buckler both heeded what Sniffy had to say.

"I feels we're gettin' close to 'em now--best keep our 'eads down. Go bellyflat'd be better!"

The word was passed along. Everybeast began crawling along the flatlands, through the still-wet grass.

Zwilt had not let his vermin light any fires, lest the glare betray them. The Ravagers slept soundly on the open ground, damp as it was. Even their three sentries were slumbering, hunched in sitting positions.

Buckler and his group were only a very short distance from the foebeast. The young hare crouched with Sniffy and Jango, trying to attain a tally of the enemy's numbers. That was when everything went wrong.

Fallug and his party had not chopped down a tree for the battering ram. They found an old sessile oak, which had been blown askew by the winter storms. The ground was loose soil, so the fivescore vermin only had to rock it back and forth, felling it with a final mighty shove. The sessile oak had a fine straight trunk, which was soon trimmed into shape. Fallug left most of his contingent to carry the long timber.

Taking eight runners with him, the Weasel Captain set off at a loping trot to bring the good news to his superior. He speeded up as he spied the forms of creatures out on the flatlands, right where Zwilt had said they would be. Unable to contain himself, Fallug called out as they neared the encampment, "Lord Zwilt, I gotta fine oak trunk, just wot ye wanted, Sire!"

He tripped over a figure crawling along the ground. The

314

weasel stumbled and fell; his paw reached out and came into contact with a huge digging paw. He shouted, "Huh, wot the--you ain't no Ravager!" Axtel's hammer strike missed Fallug but wiped out a river rat who was running behind him. A vermin screamed as Jango's blade plunged into him. Then everything became chaos on the darkened plain.

Buckler took out a stoat with one strike of his rapier. Aware that they were vastly outnumbered, he yelled, "Gather t'me--retreat to the Abbey!"

Zwilt was upright now, whirling his broadsword. "On guard, Ravagers! Strangers in camp! Kill them!" Zwilt struck out, missing his target in the dark. His blade went sideways, smacking down on Jango's head and stunning him. Sniffy lugged his fallen chieftain clear, yelling, "Mister Buck, our Log a Log's down. 'Elp me!"

Buckler rushed through, his blade scything a deadly path as he helped Sniffy to support Jango. They stumbled away with the other Guosim rallying around them.

One or two of the bolder vermin tried to strike at their rear. They met Axtel Sturnclaw. The Warrior mole seemed in his element, pounding vermin with his war hammer, butting with his rocklike skull and lashing out with a mighty digging paw. He began roaring his war cry.

"Hooooaaaarggggh! Cumm to ee Deathmoler! Hoooo-aaarrrgh!"

Buckler grabbed Flib. "Here, help with yore pa. I've got to get Axtel out of here. Bartij, over here, mate!"

Bowling vermin aside, the big hedgehog found Buckler.

The young hare grabbed his paw. "We've got to get Axtel away afore he's mobbed an' brought down. Come on!"

Bartij booted a weasel aside. "I can hear him. Has he gone mad, Buck?"

Buckler dodged a spearpoint, running its owner through. "Aye, mate. I didn't know it 'til now, but Axtel is a berserker. He's got the Bloodwrath, like a Badger Lord. We've

315

got to stop him fightin' an' make him retreat with us, or he'll battle to the end. There's too many for him!"

Axtel was scarred from ear to tail, bellowing and battling with no thought of defence or safety. Buckler confronted him, clearing a space with his long rapier. He pointed behind Axtel in the direction of Redwall, shouting in his face, "Over there--the enemy's over there!"

The Warrior mole halted for a brief moment, glaring at the young hare through blood-misted eyes. Buckler knew he was taking an awful risk, but he grabbed Axtel and spun him around, yelling urgently, "They're attackin' the Abbey. The Redwallers will be slain if they don't have a warrior to save 'em. Quick!"

Axtel lumbered off toward the Abbey, roaring his war cries and pounding the air with his war hammer. Buckler and Bartij defended his back as they retreated over the flatlands.

Guosim fighters turned every few paces, slinging stones as hard as they could at the Ravagers. Most shrews carried a sling and a pouch of round stream pebbles. Their throwing was so intense and accurate that the vermin slowed their pursuit, trying to stay out of range. Flib was particularly good. Even in the dark, her rapidly hurled missiles found targets amidst the vermin ranks.

Sniffy grabbed Flib, dragging her along with the retreating Guosim. "Back off, ye young rip, or you'll be left alone outside the Abbey. C'mon, you've done enough, Flib!"

Zwilt had not taken part in the fight. He reasoned that there was little sense in a commander being faced with a crazed, hammer-wielding mole or cut down by a chance slingstone.

Fallug ventured forward with the Ravagers, but only as an observer. He trotted back to make his report to Zwilt. "They fight fiercely for such a small force, Lord, but they're in retreat now, back to their Abbey. Hah, woodlanders can't stand against our Ravagers!"

316

Zwilt regarded his Weasel Captain with cold scorn. "Where are the beasts I left you in the woodlands with?"

Straining his gaze into the darkness, Fallug pointed. "Comin' right now, Sire. They're carryin' the tree trunk ye wanted. It's a big 'eavy one!"

The tall sable issued fresh orders. "Quickly, now, go to them, leave the battering ram. Tell them to drop it--I mightn't need it if they're fast enough."

Fallug was perplexed, but he saluted dutifully. "Right away, Lord, but how'll we get into Redwall without battering the door down?"

"Come!" Zwilt pulled him along, explaining as they ran. "We'll split into two more groups. Take yours off to the left--I'll take mine to the right. If we're fast enough, we can cross the ditch, get onto the path and cut them off. The ones inside the Abbey are bound to open the big gates to let their friends in. My Ravagers will be coming in from three sides--from the left, the right and the back. We'll slay all those outside and rush in before they close the gates, but only if we act fast!"

Skipper and Oakheart had the west walltop covered with guards, who were mainly composed of older Redwallers, some mothers, Foremole and his full molecrew. They could hear the sounds of a running skirmish.

The Otter Chieftain tightened his jaw grimly. "Buck'n'Jango's gang are in trouble. They must've been seen by the vermin."

Oakheart dabbed at his eyes with a spotted kerchief. "Indeed, 'twould seem so, but 'tis confounded dark out there--too dark to give them any help. Can't tell which is t'other, it's all a mass of shapes. Very confusin', sirrah. Let's just hope they get back safely, eh?"

Foremole Darbee furrowed his velvety brow. "Hurr, an' us'll 'ave to h'open ee gates so they'm can coom h'insoide. 'Ow'm uz a-goin' t'do that, zurr?"

317

Skipper thumped his rudder down fretfully. "Aye, mates, that's the problem. If'n we throw our gates open, we'll get all manner o' vermin chargin' in here!"

Granvy the Recorder emerged from the wallshadows. "Light a fire in the gateway."

Skipper frowned at the ancient hedgehog. "Wot are ye doin' up here, mate? Yore far too old for this sort o' thing. An' wot good will a fire in the gateway do?"

Granvy outlined his plan. "It's worth a try, for want of a better idea. We build a large fire not far from the main gate, surround either side of it with pike or javelin beasts, then at my signal, open the doors."

Oakheart scratched his headspikes. "It might just work! That way we can sort out the riffraff--let our friends enter and fight the vermin off. Keep the villains out, then as soon as Buck an' the others are in, we slam the gates!"

Skipper was already descending the wallsteps. "Get anythin' that'll burn. Come on, mates, pile it up but leave enough space for the gates to open an' shut. Oakie, get the word around. There ain't a moment t'lose!"

Sniffy shouted to the Guosim as they fought their retreat over the nighttime plain. "We'll be at the ditch soon. If'n ye falter, we're deadbeasts. Try an' jump o'er it in one bound!"

Buckler, who was having problems keeping Axtel from turning to face the Ravagers, called to Flib, "Get yore pa over here to me. You get across the ditch an' leave him to me. Wait, Axtel, come back here, mate!"

The Warrior mole had charged off down the path. He met Fallug and his vermin as they tried to cross the ditch lower down. Standing at the edge of the path, Axtel caught the first pair, two river rats. They splashed back into the ditch, their lives snuffed rudely out by the mighty war hammer. However, he could only hold one spot on his own, and they began crossing further down.

318

Buckler heaved Jango up onto his shoulders and was rewarded with a clout over his ears. The Shrew Chieftain had suddenly wakened and was struggling wildly.

"Git yore paws off'n me, I ain't no babe t'be carried. Where are we? Is young Flib alright?"

Buckler dropped him in a heap, relieved at his friend's recovery. "We're at the Abbey--get over that ditch. Come on, ye'll have t'jump, they're almost on us!"

Flib, who had leapt the ditch, saw vermin coming down the path on her left side. She turned and ran for the gate, with Ravagers hard on her paws.

Buckler, Jango and Bartij had gathered the remaining shrews in front of the main gate when Skipper's shouts came from the walltop. "Ahoy, mates, hold fast, there!"

Granvy's shrill call rang out. "Light the fire!"

There was a loud whoosh as lighted torches were tossed onto the hill of wood, moss, straw-filled mattresses and dead vegetation, all soaked in vegetable oil. The night lit up over the gates as red-gold shafts shone through the doorjambs, lintels and bottom space of the oaken west portal.

A shrew standing next to Buckler gave a sigh. He sagged forward, pinned to the door timbers by a vermin spear.

Jango bellowed into the night, "Hellgates an' bloodfire, we're sittin' targets if'n they don't open these gates! You in there, git the doors open, fer pity's sake!"

319

26

More by luck than judgement, Diggs and his badgermaid friend arrived on the banks of the stream previously visited by both the young ones and Zwilt's Ravagers. The tubby young hare had found ramsons growing in the tree-shade. Uprooting a bunch, he munched on the pungent plants as he cast about.

"Hmm, been a bit of to-ing an' fro-ing around here. Tracks are still here'n'there, despite the bally rain, wot."

Ambrevina turned her face from Diggs's overpowering breath. "Whew, d'you have to chew those things?"

Diggs took another mouthful of the wild garlic plant. "Whoever 'twas prob'ly took t'the jolly old water. Bally rain swelled the current--no point tryin' t'go upstream. Er, beg y'pardon, would y'like some ramsons?"

The badgermaid never answered. Loosing her huge sling, she whipped out with it, neatly snagging an old willow trunk which had been washed into the stream.

Diggs nodded admiringly, watching her haul it into the bank. "Oh, I say, well done, that, gel, wot! Do I take it we're goin' for a bit of a sail downstream?"

Ambrevina snatched the malodorous ramsons from his grasp. Flinging them away, she wiped her paws on the damp grass. "Wrong, Diggs. I'm going downstream on this

320

trunk. You aren't going anywhere until you've washed out your mouth and given me your solemn word that you'll stop eating that stinking weed. So, that's my offer, take it or leave it!"

The tubby hare looked aggrieved but wilted under her determined gaze. He thrust out his lower lip, chunnering. "Chap's got to eat, ain't he? Nothin' like some fresh ramsons, y'know. Good for the digestion, wot wot!"

Ambrevina scowled at him, holding up a massive clenched paw. "Aye, though it's been known to cause sudden unconsciousness if eaten within a certain distance of me!"

Diggs blinked owlishly, clambering aboard the willow trunk. "Hmmph! No need t'get so bloomin' cut up about it, miz. One'd think that what a chap scoffs, or chooses to scoff, is his own bally business, wot!"

With a mighty heave, she lifted the log end clear of the water, causing Diggs to cling on for balance. "Now, are you going to wash out your mouth, or shall I shake this log about a bit and do it for you?"

The going was easy, with a smooth, fast-flowing current. Ambrevina straddled the front of their makeshift craft, using a broken-off branch to paddle and steer. Diggs occupied the stern, giving her the benefit of his nautical experiences.

"Spent quite a while on a raft, y'know. I'm no beginner at this sort o' thing. Oh, yes, luff your tiller, sink your sail an' swoggle your midriff. Whoops! Go easy there--you nearly tipped me off into the flippin' drink!"

Ambrevina kept her face forward, smiling. "Then you should have learned to swoggle your midriff a bit better. Hmm, there's a sidestream coming up, I see."

The badgermaid steered their craft to the opening of the inlet. Diggs sniffed, unimpressed by his friend's observation.

"I'd stick t'the main current, if I were you, then we may get some flippin' where, wot!"

321

Ambrevina parted the reeds as she replied, "Well, I'm not you, and I want to look about here before we carry on. Hmm, look at this, my friend."

She pulled out a dripping reed net, squirming with stream life and tiny fishes. Diggs inspected it. "Very clever, I'm sure. Who d'you suppose it belongs to?"

Ambrevina put the net back into the water. "I've no idea, but my feelings tell me we may find out more by following this sidestream."

The irrepressible Diggs winked at her. "Indeed we may, marm, an' we might stumble over some vittles, too. D'you know, I'm blinkin' famished!"

The badgermaid blinked in mock astonishment. "You don't say. I'd never have believed it if you hadn't mentioned it. Now, get paddling and keep quiet!"

Whilst Ambrevina poled their craft through the reedy vegetation, Diggs dabbed at the water with a twig, muttering darkly, "Never have believed it? Huh, shows how much you know. Of course you wouldn't remember old Wuffy Cockleshaw, Sergeant in the Long Patrol, he was, an' a jolly nice chap, too. He missed dinner three times on the run! Faded away to a mere shadow. Ended up no more'n a pair of ears with bony paws stickin' out. Old Wuffy couldn't abide rhubarb crumble, y'know. Used to give me his when they served it in the mess. A friend right t'the end was Wuffy. It's prob'ly those extra bowls o' rhubarb crumble that've kept me goin', wot!"

The badgermaid was about to give her talkative companion a sharp prod with the paddling pole when an odd sound reached her. She turned to Diggs.

"Hush, did you hear that? There it goes again!"

It was a mad, high-pitched cackle. Diggs made what he deemed to be a shrewd observation. "Comin' from up ahead, wot. Well, at least somebeast sounds t'be jolly well enjoyin' themselves. Just listen t'that. Bloomin' chap must be sittin' on a feather!"

Ambrevina backed water, halting the willow trunk at

322

the end of the channel. The island stood out plainly in the midst of the watermeadow. She and Diggs stayed hidden, peering from the shelter of a bulrush patch at the strange scene.

Triggut Frap was holding Diggla the mousebabe by his tail, dangling him over the water. The young ones were pleading with him, with Tura calling out, "Alright, alright. Stop that an' we'll do as ye say!"

The scabrous hedgehog began striking the pond surface with his staff, shouting insanely, "Hahaarrrharr, I'll teach ye to obey me! Once a day, at eventide, that's when yew eat, when I tell yews to stop work. Is that clear?"

Jiddle replied anxiously, "We hear ye, sir. Please don't do that to Diggla. He's only a babe!"

Diggs recognised the young hedgehog. "I say, that's young wotsis spike. I know his family."

Ambrevina clapped a paw over Diggs's mouth. "Sshh, not a sound!"

Triggut watched as the pike began gathering. "Heeheehee! Maybe I'll let my pets have a nibble at him, just t'make sure yew pays 'eed t'my orders!"

The pike began leaping as he bobbed Diggla up and down above their predatory snouts.

The mousebabe was yelling, "Lemme go, ya bad naughty stinkybeast. Put Diggla onna shore!"

Ambrevina readied her sling, loading it with a sharp lump of shale. Diggs voiced his alarm.

"What are you up to? Don't sling that rock. If you hit that barmy-lookin' hog, he might fall into the drink an' take the little chap with him!"

Rising slowly, Ambrevina began whirling the huge sling. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. It's not the hog I'm after."

Placing one paw straight out, she squinted along it, whirling the sling until it thrummed. Then she threw.

The largest of the pike was halfway out of the water in a leap at the mousebabe. With deadly accuracy, the shale

323

chunk hit it like a thunderbolt, completely ripping off its lower jaw. The fish flopped back with a splash, thrashing and crimsoning the water. Tasting blood, the rest of the pike shoal hurled themselves upon the dying fish. The water boiled and bubbled red as the voracious pike cannibalised their leader, rending it to shreds.

Reloading her sling, Ambrevina jumped into the water. She started wading toward the island, whirling the weapon and roaring thunderously, "Put that young un back on dry land or my next one will smash your skull. Put him back ... now!"

Midda raced forward, grabbing Diggla from Triggut's grasp.

Diggs seized the badgermaid's paddle, poling the willow trunk energetically toward the island. "What ho, little chaps. Fear not no flippin' more, we're here to save you. Pretty nifty, wot wot!"

The young creatures were laughing and crying at the same time, leaping about wildly and cheering. Triggut stood stock-still, shocked by the sudden turn of events.

Ambrevina strode swiftly ashore, batting away at the pike with her loaded sling. She smiled at the captives, towering over them. "Don't worry. You're all safe now!"

Triggut made an attempt to cut and run, but Tura tripped him. The freed captives threw themselves upon the mad hog, pounding at him with their paws. Diggs picked Diggla up, chucking him under the chin.

"Good day to you, little sir. Any eats around here? You know, vittles, scoff, tummy treats, food!"

The mousebabe spread his tiny paws wide. "Lotsa lotsa vikkles all over d'place onna trees!"

The tubby hare sniffed. "Huh, I'm the last chap t'say he doesn't mind livin' off the blinkin' land. The odd apple, ramsons, an' a few berries are better 'n nothin', wot! But, dash it all, I'd give my left flippin' ear for some properly cooked vittles again. Er, I wonder what that rascally old scruffbag fed himself on?"

324

Midda, Tura and the rest were still dealing out rough justice to Triggut Frap when Diggs strolled across. He nodded to them. "I say, chaps, don't knock the blighter's block off just yet. I've a question or two for him, y'see, so pardon me, an' leave off kickin' the villain's bottom for a while, if you'd be so kind. Thank ye!"

No sooner had the young ones ceased beating Triggut than mousebabe Diggla hurled himself upon the miscreant, squeaking shrilly as he pummelled him. "Yarr, bad naughty villin, t'row Diggla to d'pikes would ya? Take dat'n'dat'n'dat'n'dat____"

With one paw, Ambrevina lifted the still-kicking mousebabe off his victim. She was shaking with mirth. "Oh, you great fierce warrior, spare him. Allow Diggs to talk to the rascal."

Distastefully, the young hare hauled Triggut up by one dirt-crusted ear and commenced his interrogation. "Now, then, y'foul smellin' brute, where's your cookin' gear? Oven, cauldron an' whatnot, eh?"

The mad hog spat out a loose tooth, mumbling, "Don't need that sorta thing. I eats everythin' raw!"

Diggs nodded understandingly. "Hmm, I can see 'tis doin' you a power o' good. What sort of things d'you eat raw, wot?"

Spines fell from under Triggut's shabby cloak as he shrugged. "Anythin'--fruits, roots, fishes, frogs, worms."

Diggs held up a paw. "Stop right there. I've heard enough, thank you! Huh, fat chance of a decent feed here, chaps. What d'you suggest we do with this curmudgeon, wot?"

Midda had taken the knife from Triggut's belt. She brandished it. "Kill him--that's what he deserves after the way he made us suffer. Kill the scum, I say!"

Diggs wrested the knife from the shrewmaid. He smiled wanly at Ambrevina. "Typical Guosim, eh? Not very bloomin' maidenlike. I know one just like her, name o' Flib."

325

Midda grasped the hare's paw. "She's my sister. Is she still alive?"

Diggs nodded. "Aye, missy, an' just as jolly well feisty as you, if I ain't much mistaken." He pointed the knife at Triggut. "Well, then, me stinky old scout, looks like you ain't too popular this season."

The crazy hog grovelled at Diggs's footpaws, wiping at his leaky eye as he wailed, "Waaah haaah! Don't kill me, kind sire. I never meant to 'urt 'em. 'Twas all a joke. Spare me, I beg yew!"

Diggs, whose mind was still on food, posed a question. "Right, I'll see what I can do if you can tell me this. The mainstream yonder--does it run twixt some high rocky banks where a good old water vole has her home, wot?"

Triggut's bare head bobbed up and down furiously. "Aye, sir, I've seen 'er, though we ain't never talked together. Ole water vole, wears frilly aprons an' bonnets. Just follow the stream down a ways. Yew'll see 'er place. On the right bank it is, sir. Now, will yew spare me?"

The chubby hare grinned cheerfully. "Why, of course, my dear chap! I say, young uns, wait'll you taste old Mumzy's vittles, real first-class scoff!"

Tura gave Triggut a none-too-gentle shove. "An' what do we do about this rotten thing?"

Triggut began giggling insanely. "Heeheehee! Don't yew fret, missy. Jus' leave pore Triggut Frap 'ere. I won't never 'arm another creature. Yew kin take me word on that! Heeheehee!"

Ambrevina uncoiled the rope which the mad hog had used to restrain Diggla. She began binding Triggut until he could not move a paw. Tossing the rope over a branch growing midway up a nearby hornbeam, she hoisted him into the air. Securing the rope's end around a lower limb, she left him dangling.

Jiddle yanked on the rope, watching the unfortunate beast bounce up and down. The Witherspyk hog smirked. "There now, laugh that off!"

326

Having reinforced Triggut's old raft with the willow trunk, the entire party boarded it. They pushed off onto the watermeadow, in full view of their former tormentor, waving mocking farewells.

"G'bye now, don't forget an' finish that nice big house off someday after you're loose!"

"Aye, an' don't go paddlin'. There's still some pike left. They aren't too fussy about what they eat!"

"Haha, nothin' worse than hangin' about, is there?"

Diggs was in such high spirits at the prospect of good food that he composed a shanty right there and then.

"A-sailin' off on the watermeadows

fills us coves with glee, think of all those hot baked scones, an' dainty things to scoff at tea!

"Yo hoho let the wild winds blow, as we roar hungrily,

Belay, cast off, set a course to scoff, for my little mates an' me.

"A pasty'll do an' a tart or two, served by a maiden fair, but long as the tuck keeps comin' fast, by golly, we don't care!

"Yo hoho let the wild winds blow, an' fish swim in our wake,

Ahoy, set sail for nutbrown ale, an' a chunk of ole fruitcake!"

Jinty fluttered her eyelashes at the tubby hare. "Did anybeast teach you to sing, Mister Diggs?"

Diggs puffed his chest out proudly. "No. Why d'you ask?"

327

She smiled innocently. "Oh, nothing, really, but it might've been nice if they had."

Diggs thought about this for a moment, then gave the hogmaid an icy glare. "See here, marm, I've seen creatures thrown overboard for remarks like that. It's bloomin' mutiny, y'know!"

Midda nodded as if in agreement. "I know what y'mean. My pa's a Guosim Log a Log, an' I've seen him do the same to awful singers."

Everybeast aboard laughed heartily. Life had suddenly become good for them after so long.

Apart from keeping a weather eye out for high-sided banks, there was little to do. The fast downstream current meant they did not have to row or punt. Diggs, having promoted himself to captain, steered with a paddle from the stern. The rest took their ease, allowing the cold water to run through their paws, watching speckled trout through the clear stream.

Ambrevina judged Midda to be the young ones' leader. The badgermaid spoke to her. "I suppose it was a lot worse than that island, being held underground in those caves?"

The Guosim maid turned her face to the sun, closing her eyes, enjoying its summer warmth. "It was all bad, being held prisoner--in the caves or on the island--until you and Diggs rescued us. I can't thank you enough, Ambry."

After a brief silence, the badgermaid continued, "When you were taken prisoner, did you chance to come across a young otter? His name was Flandor."

Midda did not speak. She opened her eyes, letting the tears run down her face. She nodded.

Ambrevina felt a sudden sadness, like a leaden weight pressing on her heart. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Midda wiped the back of a paw across her eyes. "Flandor was murdered by the Sable Quean. He was trying to defend us. I'll never forget him. He was a very brave otter. Did you know him, Ambry?"

328

Ambrevina stared at the passing fields and woodlands, radiant with bright summer. She sighed deeply. "I was searching for him. Flandor was my only friend."

Diggla, who had been using the huge badgermaid as a hill, clambered over her shoulders and stared into Am-brevina's deep-brown eyes as they softened with unshed tears. The mousebabe placed a tiny paw on each side of the big striped muzzle.

"Don't you not cry, now. Us all yore mates."

Ambrevina was a very large creature, so she took special care as she hugged Diggla. "Thank you. I couldn't wish for nicer friends."

A nautical shout from Diggs broke the spell. "Avast an' ahoy, ye lubbers, there's the place, a-hovin' up on our por ... starb...." He pointed. "On that side with the tall rocky bank! Now listen, crew, this good volemum is called Mumzy So I want you all to call out to her, jolly loud. Right, one, two ..."

"Muuuuummmmzzzeeeee!" the young ones bellowed at the top of their voices.

Suddenly, there she was, standing on the high banktop, waving a tablecloth. "Ah, sure, an' doesn't that sound like young tubgutt Diggs. So, now, I see ye've brought company for tea with Mumzy. Young uns an' babbies are always welcome at my ould fireside for a sup an' a bite. Corks an' cloudbursts, will ye look at the size of that fine badgermaid? Faith'n'mercy, don't eat me out of house an' home, miz, will ye?"

Ambrevina cheered up, waving back to the water vole. "I'll try not to, Mumzy, but I can't answer for Diggs!"

Inside her comfortable dwelling, Mumzy sat the young ones down. Rubbing her paws gleefully, the water vole addressed her guests. "Sure, an' it does me ould heart good t'see such a grand lot o' babbies. Just ye bide here whilst Mumzy fixes up such vittles that'll put a shine in yore eyes an' a sheen to yore fur. Miz Ambry, you, too, Diggs, I've got news to report, so lissen careful, now."

329

Diggs and the badgermaid paid attention to Mumzy as she began chopping nuts into honey for a pie filling.

"Buck an' Jango were here with their crew, but they got word that the Ravagin' vermin were marchin' on Redwall, aye, the full shebang o' the villains. So yore friends didn't wait about--they went off at the double. I think they were tryin' to beat that ould Zwilt an' his rascals to the Abbey. So, ye'd best be on yore way, if ye wish to help 'em out."

Diggs saluted her. "Naturally, marm, call of duty an' all that, y'know! Oh, corks, does that mean we'll miss a decent spot o' scoff, wot?"

Ambrevina reminded him sternly, "What would you rather do, sit here stuffing your face, or go to the assistance of your comrades?"

The tubby young hare shrugged. "I know what I'd like to jolly well do, but I also know what I've bloomin' well got to do. Forward the buffs, true blue an' never fail. On to Redwall, posthaste!"

Mumzy threw a few things into a small flour bag. "Here, now, take these t'help ye on yore way. 'Tis only an' ould chestnut'n'mushroom bake an' a bite of blackberry tart, but 'twill keep ye goin'!"

Diggs grabbed the bag. "Grateful t'ye, marm, but what about those little blighters?"

The motherly water vole smiled fondly at the young ones. "Ah, don't fret yore fur about the babbies. They'll come t'no harm with me. Sure, I'd keep 'em for good if'n I could. Just do what ye've got t'do, then send for 'em whenever 'tis safe t'do so. Go now, an' may kind breezes be ever at yore backs an' fortune smile kindly on ye!"

Ambrevina was immediately off, though Diggs lingered a moment as Mumzy told her young guests what she was planning for their lunch. "Right, me liddle darlin's, how'd ye fancy a honeynut tart with hot arrowroot sauce, some raspberry cordial an' a fine ould bowl of apple'n'pear crumble?"

Diggs gritted his teeth as he climbed to the bank top.

330

"Lucky blighters. Serves 'em right if they scoff too flippin' much an' end up with tummyache, wot!"

Ambrevina had to wait for Diggs to catch up. "Which way to Redwall?"

He took the lead. "Follow me, Ambry, old gel. By the left, though, you look jolly keen for a crack at the vermin, wot?"

Keeping hot on his footpaws, the badgermaid hastened him on. "I just want to catch up with those who murdered my friend Flandor. Can't you go any faster?"

The gluttonous hare fed on pawfuls of food from the flour bag as he panted forward. "You've prob'ly heard that hares are built for speed. Well, not this bloomin' chap, I can tell you. My pal Buck can deal with the vermin until we arrive--he's a Blademaster, y'know. There's him, Jango, Skipper, Axtel, Bartij an' absolute scads o' Guosim shrews an' useful Redwallers. They're sure t'keep a firm paw on things 'til we arrive. I say, d'you want any o' this tucker, Ambry? Jolly tasty stuff, wot!"

Ambrevina cast a jaundiced eye over the mixed mess of congealed chestnut and mushroom bake mingling with blackberry tart. "Aye, give it t'me, will you?"

Diggs reluctantly passed the bag to her. "Have a bite or two, but leave some for a famished young chap--share an' share alike, wot wot?"

She flicked the lot off into the undergrowth. "This is not the time for meals. We'll eat when we get to Redwall Abbey. Now, shake a paw, will you!"

Diggs increased his pace, knowing it would be unwise to argue with a badger of his companion's size. However, that did not stop him chunnering to himself. "Huh, shameful waste, that's what 'tis. Chuckin' good scoff away to the blinkin' insects. By the left, if my old mess sergeant caught y'doin' that, marm, you'd be on a real fizzer, quarter season in the bloomin' guardhouse. Hah, an' you'd richly deserve it!"

They passed on, leaving the half-finished bag of food

331

hanging from a bramble in the undergrowth. A scrawny paw reached out and retrieved it.

Gliv clutched the bag to her, crawling back through the bushes to where Vilaya lay resting.

The sable's glittering eyes watched the stoat keenly. "Who was that passing by? What did you steal from them?"

Gliv sat down just out of reach. She began eating from the bag. "It was just one of those rabbets an' a big stripe-dog. From wot they was sayin', I think they're bound for that Abbey. Looks like Zwilt will have a fight on his paws if'n 'e has t'face the stripedog. She was big--looked like a fighter t'me."

The injured Sable Quean was inching closer. "And they gave you those vittles?"

Gliv stuffed a pawful of Mumzy's food down, licking her blackberry-stained mouth. " 'Course they never gave me it. The stripedog slung it away, said they didn't 'ave time fer meals."

Holding her wounded side, Vilaya rolled rapidly over, seizing the bag from Gliv. Casting aside any pretence to daintiness, she wolfed the remainder down. "Go and find me some water. I'm thirsty."

The stoat sneered. "Feelin' better, are we? Ye'll soon be up an' about. I thought you was gonna die for a while back there."

Vilaya stood up, leaning against a sycamore. "No time for dying. I've got a score to settle!"

Gliv grinned coldly. "Huh, so have we both!"

332

27

Seeing his friends with their backs to the west wallgate, illuminated by the shafts of firelight, Skipper roared out the order. "Open the gates! Everybeast to the entrance! Quick!"

The main entrance was pulled open in a trice. Ducking down, Buckler, Bartij, Jango and the Guosim crew retreated hurriedly inside. The defenders hurled a salvo of javelins, rocks and slingstones at the advancing Ravagers. Temporarily blinded by the sudden burst of light from the bonfire in the open gateway, the vermin were taken by surprise. They scattered both ways along the path, seeking to avoid the onslaught of missiles, some slipping backward into the ditch.

Zwilt lashed about him with the flat of his broadsword, yelling hoarsely, "Forward! Forward! Keep going, can't you see the gates are open? Forward! Chaaaaarge!"

Something struck his blade like a thunderbolt. It flew out of his grasp, over the ditch, onto the flatland. Zwilt the Shade was strong--he was also fast and agile. However, the tall sable was not about to face the hefty hammer-wielding mole who had disarmed him so savagely.

Knowing instantly that the attempt had failed, Zwilt leapt the ditch in a single bound, calling out, "Retreat! Back, Ravagers, back! Retreat!"

333

Blinded by the firelight and assailed by slingstones from the gateway and walltops, the vermin were only too ready to obey their commander. They fled westward to where the sessile oak trunk lay abandoned outside their camp.

Now that Zwilt had regained his blade, the need for secrecy and concealment was over. He squatted down by the fire his vermin were building. The weasel Fallug, whom he had promoted to captain, knelt alongside him, nursing a swollen jaw--a stone had hit him.

"Wot next, Lord? Do we still use the batterin' ram?"

The tall sable blinked as he stared at the fire. "As soon as it's ready. We'll charge those gates and smash them, in daylight if we have to. There'll be no mistake a second time, I swear it!"

Abbess Marjoram came to the main outer gate. Skirting the fire, she sought out the defenders, congratulating them. "Thank you, friends. 'Twas a brave thing you did here."

Granvy wiped his face with a clump of dewy grass. "Good idea that fire, eh, Jango?"

The Guosim Log a Log crouched down by a gatepost. "A masterstroke, I'll grant ye. Though if'n ye hadn't got the gates open when ye did, we'd have been slaughtered out there. Sniffy, how many did we lose?"

The Tracker wiped smoke from his bleary gaze. "Two slain, four wounded, Chief. I was goin' to check south down the path, but that berserk mole's still out there. Nothin'll stop that un--Axtel will smash anybeast wot stands in his path!"

Buckler put up his long rapier. "That's how Bloodwrath works, mate. We'll just have to hope he comes to his senses. Marm, stop, where are ye goin'?"

The Abbess had walked out onto the path. "Stay where you are, everybeast. I'll deal with this."

Jango started after her, but Sister Fumbril drew him back. "Marjoram knows what she's about, sir, trust me!"

334

Skipper nodded. "Do as the Sister says, matey, an' trust our Mother Abbess. That goes for all of ye. Now, how about dampin' this blaze down. We could be sittin' targets stannin' in the firelight!"

The blaze was subdued with a bit of effort. Some of the embers were pushed into the open ditch, some scattered to the inside wall, the rest were damped down with water from the Abbey pond. Dawn was streaking the sky when Abbess Marjoram passed through the gateway, ordering Foremole Darbee and Cellarmole Gurjee to close and lock the doors. Axtel was limping alongside her. She was giving him advice on his wounded footpaw.

"I'm sure that Sister Fumbril can treat your injury. She's very skilful at such things. I guarantee you'll be walking normally by the season's end, running, too. Oh, Bartij, would you take Axtel's hammer? The poor beast shouldn't have to limp about carrying that great heavy thing. It's not doing him a bit of good."

Buckler watched in amazement as Axtel Sturnclaw, the berserk warrior, meekly surrendered his weapon to Bartij.

"Hurr aye, mum, ee war'ammer do gets gurtly weight-ful at toimes. Hoo urr, but et bee's a wunnerful vermint stopper, even tho' oi says et moiself, mum!"

Buckler shook his head. "Well, I've seen everything now!"

Bartij winked. "Yore at Redwall Abbey now, young mate--you h'ain't seen nothin' yet!"

Friar Soogum bustled up with two kitchen helpers in tow. "Er, Abbess, marm, where do I serve brekkist today?"

Marjoram was never at a loss when it came to prompt decisions, unlike the hesitant Friar. She rattled off instructions, including everybeast. "Serve it up on the west ramparts to those who'll be keeping an eye on our foes---Mister Buckler, Skipper, Bartij, Log a Log Jango and his Guosim. Redwallers and Dibbuns will eat in Great Hall. I think it would be wise for those not engaged in defence of the

335

Abbey to stay off the walltops until any threat of attack has gone. Sister Fumbril, Axtel and myself will dine in the Infirmary. Foremole, would you and your molecrew dine in the gatehouse with Granvy, just in case you're needed?"

Darbee tugged his snout respectfully. "Ut'd be moi pleasure, mum!"

Marjoram patted Soogum's paw fondly. "That's your problem solved, old friend. Now, is there anything else, please?"

Buckler had a request. "Marm, could you have the good Friar serve an extra portion on the walltop? Make it a big helping."

The Abbess nodded. "I'm sure our Friar could arrange that, but what do you require another breakfast for?"

One of the young hare's ears drooped thoughtfully. "Just an idea, really. It's been my experience that whenever fine vittles are served, Diggs is usually somewhere about. Oh, I'm not worried about the tubby glutton, wherever he is. But I'd be easier in my mind if he were here where I could keep an eye on him."

Marjoram smiled. "Oh, I think we can manage that, Buck."

Buckler made a quick, elegant bow. "Thankee, marm. An' I apologise for not bringin' the little uns safe back to Redwall. As soon as this Ravager matter's settled, I vow I won't rest 'til the babes are all inside these walls an' peace is restored."

The Abbess nodded. "I'm sure you speak truly, my friend."

Out on the flatlands, work was progressing on the battering ram. Zwilt had supervised his vermin in the making of the weapon. One end of the sessile oak trunk had been hacked into a blunt point and burned several times in the fire. This had the effect of sharpening and hardening the ramming end. Fallug and his crew had returned to the woodlands. Now they were hauling in heaps of

336

thick green-leafed boughs. Zwilt outlined their use to his captain.

"I want a frame built, a canopy to go over the ram. The carriers underneath it will be protected from anything those Redwallers heap down upon them. Now, we'll have two shifts of ram carriers, one relieving the other to keep the attack going full pelt. I want archers and sling throwers constantly on the go. That'll keep the woodlanders' heads down below the walltops."

Fallug grinned crookedly. "Aye, Lord, an' 'twill 'elp our ram beasts from bein' attacked!"

The weasel was pleasantly surprised when Zwilt patted his shoulder heartily. Something resembling a smile stole across the inscrutable sable's features.

"You're a beast I can trust, Fallug. Tell me, how do you like being a captain, eh?"

Fallug puffed out his narrow chest. "I'm enjoyin' it, Sire. Ye can rely on me--I'll do me best for ye, Lord, on me word, I will!"

Zwilt toyed with the medal about his neck. "Good. I knew I could, so I want you to be in charge of all my Ravagers from now on."

Fallug looked fit to burst as he puffed in more air. "Me, Lord?"

Zwilt nodded. "You'll need a bit of help, so why not pick out a few trusty comrades and make them captains?"

A worried look furrowed the weasel's brow, but Zwilt reassured him, "Of course, you won't need to be a captain any longer. I'll promote you to chief, or general. Which title d'you think suits you best?"

Fallug replied without hesitation, "Chief, Sire! Sounds good, don't it? Fallug, Chief of all the Ravagers. Aye, chief suits me fine, Lord!"

Zwilt watched the ram point shaping up. "Right, Chief Fallug, these are your orders. You'll be in charge of this whole attack--archers, slingers, ram carriers, everything!"

337

The new chief looked slightly perplexed. "But where'll you be, Sire? Wot'll you be doin'?"

Zwilt stared at the distant Abbey walls. "I'll be doing what I do best--being Zwilt the Shade. You just carry on obeying orders. Don't look for me. I have a plan of my own. If it goes the right way, I may be inside Redwall whilst you're still knocking on the doors. Leave me now. I'll put the word about that you are in command here."

Back on the ramparts, Bartij, who had no experience of warfare, shielded his eyes against the sun, peering at the distant vermin encampment. "There's smoke a-risin'. See, they've lit a fire. Looks like they're burnin' one end of the big log. Why d'ye suppose they'd do a thing like that, eh?"

Jango dipped a crust of toasted nutbread into his hot mint tea and sucked it with relish. "I'd say they're makin' a batterin' ram, eh, Buck?"

Buckler put aside a bowl of oatmeal. "Yore right, mate. Skipper, fetch Foremole, please. I need to speak with him."

Foremole Darbee did not like high walltops. He sat down with his back to the battlements, concentrating his gaze on the walkway. "Hurr, 'ow can oi 'elp ee, zurr?"

Buckler sat down next to him. "This stone-throwin' catapult thing your crew are making in the cellars, can we get it up here?"

Darbee shook his velvety head glumly. " 'Tis all in bits, zurr. Oi knows nuthin' abowt cattypults, but if'n us gets it up yurr, 'twill need t'be resembled."

Skipper quaffed off what was left of his hotroot soup. "Granvy's the beast who'd know about assemblin' it. Come on, we'll lend a paw to carry it up here."

It turned out to be a far harder task than they had expected. Some of the timber donated by Cellarmole Gurjee was huge and weighty. Long-seasoned lengths of elm, beech and oak, devoid of bark or branch, were hauled laboriously up to the walltop.

338

Old Granvy the Recorder inspected the material doubtfully. "Hmm, wish I'd bothered to look at this lot earlier. I'm afraid most of it is far too ancient and dried out t'be of any use. It'd snap under pressure."

Bartij flicked a woodlouse off a chunk of beech. "Can't we make any use of it, Granvy?"

The old hog sighed wistfully. "I wish I knew. I dug out an ancient parchment which had the plans for a ballista-- that's what they're called, you see. But I've never seen a real one, and I'm not sure how it works. What we need is a creature who knows all about such weapons."

Oakheart Witherspyk mounted the battlements, dramatically gesturing toward the vermin foe. "Hearken, comrades, our present dilemma is how to counter a battering-ram attack. What to do, eh? If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, what about fire?"

Skipper assisted the portly hog down onto the walkway. "I knows wot yore thinkin' of, mate, hurlin' fire down on it, to set the ram ablaze. Well, it won't work, Oakie. Once that batterin' ram was on fire, they'd lean it up agin' our gateway. Then they'd just sit back an' watch the whole thing burn down. No, sir, we'll have to come up with somethin' better'n that!"

Foremole Darbee had a typically molelike solution. "Zurrs, 'ow abowt soil'n'urth. Hurr hurr, they'm villyuns wuddent git far a-tryen to shuv ee rammerer through a gurt 'eap o' soil'n'urth!"

Buckler's ears stood up in admiration of the mole's scheme. "Now, that's what I call a great plan! We'll tip loads of everything over the wall, right here over the main gate. Aye, an' we'll shore it up from the inside, too. Hah, it'd take an army of vermin a couple o' seasons to ram their way through that lot!"

Skipper slammed his rudder down on the walkway. "Ahoy, mates, we'll have t'get started real sharpish, afore the vermin git their ram up an' rurvnin'!"

339

Redwall Abbey immediately became a hive of activity. Foremole and his trusty crew began digging up the lawn and some flower beds. Oakheart got an earth-moving chain in motion. Improvised stretchers were loaded up with soil, gravel, clay, stones and turf. The biggest and sturdiest creatures carried these to the walltop. Meanwhile, Flib and Trajidia Witherspyk rigged a rope and pulley up on the walkway. A line of the young, helped by some old ones, bore an assortment of vessels. Bowls, pails, ewers, cauldrons, anything that could be filled with soil and debris, was passed from paw to paw. Sniffy hooked them to the pulley, whilst Flib and Trajidia hauled away energetically. Jango got a work song going, something of a shanty. Everybeast soon caught onto the chorus, roaring it out lustily, even the Dibbuns. Anybeast who was not sure of the verse just kept chanting the "haul up" bits. It all worked rather well.

"Haul up! Haul up!

Haul up, d'ye hear me call, the strong of heart must play their part, for the sake of ole Redwall... haul up!

"Dig up that earth for all yore worth, fill all those pails again, an' just let me catch one of ye, complainin' of a pain!

"Haul up! Haul up!

Haul up, d'ye hear me call, the strong of heart must play their part, for the sake of ole Redwall... haul up!

"Come on now, mateys, bend those backs, there's loads o' work to do, if you don't toil an' tote that soil, you'll let down all this crew!

340

"Haul up! Haul up!

Haul up, d'ye hear me call, the strong of heart must play their part, for the sake of ole Redwall... haul up!

"So haul 'em up an' lower 'em down, no time to moan or weep,

'til every mother's whelp o' ye, can roar out in yore sleep ... haul up!"

Oakheart laboured alongside Buckler, heaving rubble over the wall. Together they tipped the contents of an old wheelbarrow onto the growing heap in the gateway below.

The florid hedgehog spat on his paws, reaching for a heaped cauldron. "Y'know, the higher that hill gets, the more I worry!"

Buckler emptied a pail over the edge. "What's worryin' you, Oakie?"

His friend pointed at the growing heap. "If it gets much higher, the vermin will be able to climb up here on it. Have y'thought of that?"

The Salamandastron Blademaster smiled wolfishly. "Aye, the thought had crossed my mind. I hope Zwilt the Shade is the first to try it. I wager he'll be dying to meet me!"

341

28

At the same time the vermin party were cutting boughs in the woodland, two beasts were watching them from a hiding place nearby. It was Vilaya and Gliv. The Sable Quean's wound was healing nicely. It had scabbed over and was not causing her any great discomfort. She was being disguised by the female stoat, whilst keeping an eye on the work party.

"Here, tear a strip off my cloak, a bloodstained piece. Now tie it around my brow, Gliv, good. How does that look?"

The stoat knotted the material beneath Vilaya's right ear. "Take off yore cloak. I'll smear some soil on yore face." Gliv did this, leaning in close to check the effect. "Aye, ye look the part now. Anybeast'd take ye for an ole Ravager who's taken a scratch or two. Come on, let's gather some leafy branches an' join 'em."

The Sable Quean drew her helper closer, murmuring to her, "No, you stay here. I'll go with them--it's better that I go alone."

Gliv glanced uneasily at her. "But what about me? What am I supposed to do?"

Vilaya was smiling now. The stoat had seen that smile before. She tried to pull away, but Vilaya held her tight.

342

"You've been a lot of help to me, Gliv, but I don't need you anymore. Be still, now!"

Gliv felt the sudden sting at her throat--she gazed in frozen horror at her killer. Vilaya was still smiling as she clamped a paw over her victim's mouth.

"I took back my little dagger while you were tying that rag about my head. Go to sleep now. Your work is done."

Gliv died with her eyes wide open, still staring at the smiling face of the one whose life she had saved.

Fallug snarled at the branch carriers as they lugged their burdens back into the vermin camp. "You lot took yore time. C'mon, move yerselves--that stuff's needed. Shift yore lazy paws along, c'mon!"

A river rat muttered to Vilaya, "Huh, lissen to ole swollen 'ead throwin 'is weight about."

Vilaya replied in a sullen whisper, "We should only be takin' orders from Zwilt. Where is he?"

The rat shrugged. "I dunno, but he's left Fallug in charge. We've got t'call 'im Chief now. Weasels, eh, they're all the same, bossy an' thick'eaded, ain't that right, mate?"

Vilaya spat on the ground. "Right! But I wonder where Zwilt's got to. Ain't 'e goin' to attack the Abbey with us?"

A stoat who had overheard the pair nodded northward over the flatlands. "I think ole Zwilt's got 'is own plan. I saw 'im goin' off over that way with four others. They was carryin' ropes an' some 'ooks."

Before he could elaborate, Fallug cuffed his ear roughly. "Yore not here to chat. Now, git those branches tied t'that frame an' fix it over the batterin' ram."

He turned irately to Grakk, a weasel he had promoted to captain. "Wot is it now, eh?"

Grakk saluted with his spear. "Chief, that lot in the Abbey are tippin' stuff over the wall in front o' the gate, I think!"

Fallug stared at him pityingly. "Who told you y'could

343

think, mudbrains? Leave the thinkin' t'me or Lord Zwilt. Yore here t'carry out orders, that's all!"

Vilaya moved away from the group until she was behind a small rise. She crouched there until the moment was right. With everybeast facing the Abbey or preparing the ram, she stole quietly off into the flatlands, heading north until she crossed Zwilt's trail. He and his escort were travelling in an arc. Vilaya knew they would cross the path into the woodlands, then go south to Redwall Abbey. After all, what else was Zwilt the Shade interested in?

Diggs had lost his way, but the tubby hare was not to be put off. Peering intently at the woodland floor, he shuffled slowly onward, chunnering relentlessly. "Ahah, wait now, I think we're on the right blinkin' track. Never lost for long if you're a bally Long Patrol chappie, wot!"

Ambrevina idly twirled her long sling. The huge badger maid leaned against a sycamore, observing ironically, "Never lost for long, eh? Then it's just as well I've got you for a guide, friend."

Without looking up, Diggs chunnered on. "Oh, yes, did a half season y'know. Learnin' trackin', sign readin' an' whatnot from old Corporal Broomscuttle. Jolly good old type Broomie was, taught me a heap of useful stuff. I was his bloomin' star pupil, y'know."

His badger companion was trying hard not to smile. "Were you, really? That's good to know!"

Studying the ground intently, Diggs chuckled. "Haw haw, you can bet your grandma's marchin' boots it is. See this small, faint track here? That's a sort o' wotsit beetle. Forgotten the blighter's name, but the thing is this, it always travels south. Hah, an' by my reckonin' that's where the Abbey is. Er, or was it west? No bother, Tracker Diggs'll soon find it, wot!"

The garrulous hare got no further, owing to the fact that Ambrevina lifted him up bodily. Perching him on

344

her shoulder, she pointed to her right. Above the trees-- directly in the opposite direction Diggs had been taking-- Redwall's Belltower stood out like a pikestaff. She enquired calmly, "What d'you suppose that is, Tracker Diggs?"

For the first time in quite a while, Diggs fell silent. He twiddled his ears this way and that, sniffed the air and tested the breeze with a damp paw.

Then he spoke. "Well, of course, it's jolly old Redwall. Top marks, marm. You passed my little test. I was wondering when y'd finally notice the confounded thing!"

Ambrevina dumped him down unceremoniously. "That must be the back of the Abbey--east wall, do you think?"

Diggs brushed himself off without turning a hair. "Oh, undoubtedly. Well, forward the buffs an' pip pip. Here's to some of the finest scoff that ever passed a chap's lips, wot. Now, I wonder if it's lunchtime, or midmornin' snack break. I say, there, wait for me, Ambry, old gel!"

Zwilt the Shade emerged from some bushes with the four Ravagers at his back. They watched the hare and the badger hurrying off toward the Abbey. Though Zwilt felt like heaving a sigh of relief, he showed no emotion to his escort. The obvious size and power of Ambrevina made him feel quite puny in comparison. She presented a problem he had not anticipated. However, Zwilt was not about to allow anything to get in the way of his Abbey conquest, not even a massive badger.

Following the pair at a safe distance, the tall sable moved amongst the trees like a noon shadow. The four Ravagers followed in his wake, fearful of putting a single paw wrong, each trying to breathe noiselessly.

Further intrigue was added to the moment by Vilaya, who had caught up with Zwilt. The Sable Quean crouched behind a guelder bush. She spied on Zwilt as he, in turn, watched Ambrevina and Diggs. Then they all moved off toward the east Abbey wall.

Diggs went straight to the small wicker gate and tried it several times. "Huh, might've guessed the flippin' thing'd

345

be locked. Let's see if we can't raise some sentry types, wot!" Standing back a few paces, he yelled up at the wall-top, "I say, anybeast at home?"

The big badgermaid peered at the battlements. "Apparently not. Shall I give it a try?"

Without waiting for Diggs's permission, she cupped paws about her mouth and bellowed thunderously, "Come on, stir your stumps, we're friends!"

There was a sudden patter of paws, followed by some scrabbling as somebeast climbed up the battlements.

Young Rambuculus Witherspyk poked his head over the top. Not noticing Diggs, the first thing he saw was Ambrevina. The young hog was obviously overwhelmed by the sight of such a massive beast, never having seen a badger before.

"Whoa! Corks'n'crivvens, who are you?"

Diggs stepped into view, making reply. "Who d'ye think she is, a ferret or a bally stoat? Now get down here an' open the gate, you little pot herb!"

Zwilt had heard all that went on. He and the Ravagers were lying amidst nearby ferns. Deeming it a chance he could ill afford to miss, Zwilt drew his broadsword, murmuring to his escort, "Don't make a sound. No shouting out or charging. But as soon as that little door opens, follow me. If we're swift and silent, they'll be ambushed. Two of you take the hare and the young hog. I'll run the badger through before she has a chance to fight. You two grab her paws, and I'll stab her from behind.... Ready!"

Diggs was irked by Rambuculus's insolence. The young hog could be heard calling out as he descended the east wallsteps, "How'm I supposed t'know who you are, eh? We're fightin' a war in here, y'know. There's vermin all over the flatlands, comin' with a batterin' ram, an' my pa sends me off patrollin' the bloomin' back wall. It's an insult, that's what it is! Then you two turn up shoutin' an' tellin' me that you might be a ferret an' a stoat. Now this flippin' lock's stickin'!"

346

Diggs yelled at the door, "Well, unstick the bally thing an' let us in or I'll kick your flamin' tail!"

Rambuculus tugged the lock loose. Opening the door, he poked his head around it. "Hah, y'can't kick a hedgehog's tail. Didn't anybeast ever tell ye? You'll get a pawful o' spikes, so there!"

Ambrevina entered, with Diggs right on her heels. To show his displeasure, the tubby hare slammed the door shut quickly, waggling his ears at Rambuculus as he shoved the bolt back into place.

"Listen t'me, laddie buck. One more word from you an' I'll whack you over the cheeky snout with a loaded sling. Here, what was that blinkin' noise?"

The "blinkin' noise" was Zwilt's swordpoint hitting the door with a thud. Rambuculus glared accusingly at Diggs. "That was you slammin' the door. Nearly took it off its flippin' hinges. No need for that sort o' thing!"

Ambrevina ignored the squabbling pair. Hearing the distant noise of conflict, she set off over the back lawns. "Sounds like there's trouble at the front wall--come on!"

Zwilt stood stock-still, his swordpoint still stuck in the door timbers. He waited until the pawsteps inside receded, then began levering his weapon free.

One of the Ravagers, a lean river rat, commented, "Another wink of an eye an' ye'd have got 'em, Lord. 'Twas a close thing." His voice trailed into silence as Zwilt fixed him with a basilisk stare.

"Shut up and get the ropes and grapnels fixed. We'll go in the way I planned."

Vilaya watched from the cover of an elm trunk, with new schemes hatching within her conniving mind. She craved revenge, wanting to slay Zwilt... and yet. He had a horde of Ravagers attacking the Abbey from the front, and he himself was forming a secret entrance from the rear. It was a plot worthy of the tall sable, of any sable. What if he conquered Redwall? Would it not be better to kill him then?

347

This would give her back command of the Ravagers, plus make her the new ruler of this magnificent Abbey.

Two pairs of grapnel irons, thrown by the vermin, clanked onto the battlements. Tossing his cloak to one of the guards, Zwilt grabbed a rope in either paw. Using his footpaws against the joints in the sandstone, he hauled himself energetically up to the walltop. He was followed by his escort of four, who wasted no time scaling the ropes.

Vilaya watched them disappear from view, pulling the ropes up after them. Any opportunity of entering Redwall from its east side was gone. The Sable Quean skulked off through the woodland, intent on assessing the attack on the west wall. No doubt it would present further chances of attaining her goal.

Meanwhile the battle at the front had begun. Fallug sent almost a hundred Ravagers forward with the battering ram and met with his first hurdle: the ditch. Beneath its cover of leafy-boughed framework, the front of the war machine dipped sharply as the front carriers, shoved on by those behind them, tumbled into the ditch. Yells of scorn rang out from the walltops, accompanied by many missiles.

Buckler shouted out a command. "Don't waste weapons on that thing--they're sheltered under the cover. Get down, everybeast, they're shooting back!"

Arrows, slingstones and javelins rained up at the defenders from the vermins' ground force. In the midst of all this, Diggs arrived with Ambrevina at his side. He threw a crouching salute to his comrade.

"Subaltern Diggs an' jolly large friend reportin' for duty, sah. I say, are we late for midmornin' snack, or early for a bite o' lunch, wot?"

Buckler grinned at his irrepressible friend. "Sorry, bucko, but we've got a war on our paws, or didn't you notice? Vittles will have to wait until later." He thrust a paw of welcome at the huge badgermaid. "I'm Buckler Kordyne. Sorry I haven't had the pleasure of meetin' ye, marm!"

348

He grimaced as the badger returned his paw shake.

"I'm Ambrevina Rockflash from the Eastern Shores. I met up with Diggs back at Althier."

A javelin clattered on the walkway beside Diggs. Seizing it, he leapt up and hurled it back. His aim was greeted with a scream from a Ravager. Diggs ducked back down again.

"Oops, sorry. Haven't made my flippin' report yet. We found the young uns, all safe an' unhurt. At the moment, they're with old wotsername, the waterthingy Mumzy. You'll be pleased t'know they're all fit an' fat as bumblebees. Or at least they jolly well will be when she's finished feedin' their little faces!"

Buckler clapped his friend's back soundly. "That's great news, Diggs--we couldn't have asked for better. Ahoy, down there, Trajidia, run an' give the word to the ladies, your mum, Jango's wife, Furm, an' Clarinna. Tell them the babes are safe an' well!"

Diggs interrupted. "I say, Traji, ole gel, don't forget to report who it was that saved 'em--meself an' this fine badgermaid, Ambry. Any rewards in the shape of vittles by the cartload will be acceptable, wot!"

Trajidia skipped off blithely, shouting the news to all. "Rejoice, rejoice! Our lost infants are found and will soon be restored to their beloved kinbeasts! They will sleep in their own little beds once again!"

Some of the vermin had clambered out of the ditch and scrambled back to report the disaster to Fallug. The weasel whom he had promoted to captain, Grakk, shook his head.

"Zwilt ain't goin' t'like this, Chief!"

Fallug peered across at the ram. It lay at an odd angle, its point dipping down into the ditch. "I knows wot Zwilt ain't goin' t'like. Can't ye lift it over that ditch?"

Grakk shook his head. "We could if'n we wasn't under attack, Chief, but every time we shows our faces out in the

349

open, we takes a right poundin' off those beasts on the walltop. An' another thing--have ye seen the pile o' rubble they've tipped in front o' the gate? Take my word, it'd take us ten seasons to try an' charge a ram through that liddle lot! So, wot's yore orders, Chief? Wot d'we do now?"

Fallug sat on the ground scratching at his tail. Zwilt's plan had fallen flat, and he would either have to find a solution or answer to Zwilt on his return. Irately, he stalled for time. "Gimme time t'think up a plan, will ye. I don't like bein' rushed!"

Grakk shrugged. "Alright, but wot do I tell all these Ravagers t'do while yore thinkin', Chief?"

A sudden ghost of an idea flashed into Fallug's head. "Call the ram crews off. Tell 'em to join up with the slingers an' archers. Don't stop attackin', keep the Redwallers' 'eads down, pepper the walltop an' don't stop. Once it goes dark, we'll make our move."

Grakk smiled slyly. "An' wot'll that be, Chief?" Fallug leapt up, shaking with temper. "It ain't none o' yore business. You just carry out orders, see!"

Zwilt and his four Ravagers had concealed themselves in the deserted orchard. The tall sable knew he could not make a move until the attack, and the battering ram, were fully underway. Chewing on a near-ripe russet apple, he watched from a spot where he could see the defenders on the west wall. They were all able-looking beasts. Two hares, two big hedgehogs, a brawny otter and a fair number of armed Guosim shrews and Abbeybeasts. Added to that was a solid-looking mole armed with a war hammer and, finally, the huge young badger. Anybeast with only four at his command would be committing suicide going against such odds. However, Zwilt was growing impatient. He flung the half-eaten apple from him. What were Fallug and all those other Ravagers up to? Why could he not hear the booming thuds of a battering ram pounding the Abbey gates? Had something gone amiss with his plan?

350

The tall sable turned to his vermin escort, explaining his next move, to avoid any mistakes. "Listen carefully. I need to know what's happening on the other side of the west wall. The only way I see of doing that is to get inside the Abbey. I can look out one of those high windows. From there I'll be able to judge what's happening at the main gate. You four follow me. There should be hardly anybeast inside--they're all out on the walls--but we'll take no chances. Go quietly, keep your eyes open and guard my back."

Avoiding the front door of the Abbey building, they explored the south side, where Zwilt found a window with its shutters open. Judging by the mouthwatering aromas emanating from it, this could be only one place, the kitchens. Nobeast seemed to be in attendance. It was the work of a moment for all five creatures to slip inside.

Even in the present situation, it was far too tempting to ignore the food laid out there. Realising how hungry he was, Zwilt posted one of his Ravagers at the door. He fell on the food like a wild beast, as did his escort. Pasties, bread, pies and scones, still warm from the ovens, were laid out to cool on the worktops. With scant regard for choice, they grabbed anything at random, cramming their mouths full, spitting out what they could not gulp down, moving from one thing to another, knocking over platters and trays of food.

Fazdim, a river rat, upended a flask of blackberry wine, gurgling gleefully as it splashed over his chin, staining his lean chest. "Be plenty more o' this good stuff when this place is ours, eh, Lord?"

Zwilt snatched the wine from him, throwing up a cautionary paw. "Hush! What was that?"

The rat Zwilt had left guarding the kitchen door, tip-pawed back to make his report. "Lord, it's somebeasts singin' an' dancin' out there!"

Zwilt tasted the blackberry wine, nodding his approval. "Let them sing and dance. What harm can that do? Fazdim,

351

you take a turn guarding the door, but get me some of this wine first. I'll have to wait here until the coast is clear, then I'll go upstairs."

Though he would not admit it openly the tall sable was enjoying his first taste of Redwall fare. He wanted more.

Out in Great Hall, Trajidia had delivered the joyous news to the ladies. They began singing and dancing with happiness, knowing the babes were alive and safe. The transformation in Clarinna was remarkable. She joined in with the celebrations immediately. Friar Soogum and his kitchen helpers provided the music, singing lustily as they drummed on an assortment of upturned pots and bowls. A molemaid scraped away on a small fiddle as the dancers threw up their paws, laughing and jigging gleefully to the jolly song.

"Oh, whoopsy doo, one two three, happy jolly beasts are we, clap your paws, three four five, what a day to be alive!

"The sun never shone so warm and bright, my paws never felt so free and light, good news never was so comforting, whirl around, my friend, let's sing.

"Oh, deedle doo, and doodle die, no more tears from you or I, kick those paws up in the air, joy and bliss be everywhere!

"Our hearts are filled with joy and cheer, goodbye to anguish, grief and fear, whirl me round now, tralalaa, raise your voice and shout hurrah!"

352

29

Vilaya stayed close to the north wall, making her way through the woodlands. She had removed the bloodstained rag from her brow, cleaned up her soil-stained face and donned her silken cloak. She was once again the Sable Quean.

The fight was going back and forth twixt the ramparts and the flatlands further down. Nobeast noticed as she crossed the path and slid into the ditch. She strode slowly and regally toward the useless battering ram. The Ravagers knew she was dead--had they not seen it with their own eyes? Zwilt the Shade had slain her with his broadsword. With Zwilt somewhere inside the Abbey and the vermin army being run by mere minions, it was high time for the resurrection of their real leader, the Sable Quean.

The recently appointed Captain Grakk was issuing orders to the ram bearers, who were taking cover beneath the bough and leaf canopy in the ditchbed. Using his spearhaft none too gently, Grakk routed the vermin out.

"Leave this ram, now. Git yoreselves outta there! Boss Fallug needs all of ye to attack the walltop. Move, ye worthless bunch, come on, shift yoreselves! Hah, fancy droppin' a batterin' ram into a ditch after all the 'ard work

353

we put in makin' it, eh? Leave it there. Boss Fallug says he's got plans fer it once it goes dark!"

The Ravagers were starting to scramble from the ditch when one, a stoat, fell backward. His paw was pointing, and his face a mask of fear as he wailed, "Waaaaaahhhhh! Eeeeeeyaaaah!"

Everybeast turned to see what had caused this weird effect on the stoat. Eyes popped wide, jaws dropped, the vermin and their captain stood transfixed by the apparition. Vilaya walked unhurriedly up until she was facing the Weasel Captain, whom she addressed by name.

"Are you in charge now, Grakk?"

The weasel was trembling uncontrollably as he managed a stumbling reply. "Ch-charge, y'Majesty er, er, no, I'm only a cap'n, marm. Er, er, it's Fallug's in charge, er, Lord Zwilt made 'im a boss, er, Majesty!"

Vilaya repeated the name. "Fallug. I don't know that one. Take me to him, Grakk. Bring these Ravagers with you."

Fallug was revelling in his newfound authority, which had many benefits. Some of his foragers had brought in a large clutch of partridge eggs, of which he would take the largest share. He sat watching them roast the eggs in hot ashes, well out of range from Redwall missiles. Fallug was retrieving the first of the cooked eggs with a twig when a ferret pointed out what was going on.

"Lookit, Boss, they've left off fightin' an' they're all comin' over 'ere.... An' the Quean's with 'em!"

Fallug shaded his eyes, staring hard at the lead figure. There was no doubt about it--the Sable Quean was unmistakable. Murmurs ran through the foraging party.

"But I thought Zwilt killed 'er!"

"Aye, 'e did. I saw Zwilt do it meself, mate!"

"Then why's she 'ere? Why ain't she dead?"

"Maybe ... maybe she's a ghost, come back to slay us all!"

They began edging back, ready to break and run off.

354

Fallug was not about to relinquish his new high office, nor was he about to show fear in front of his command. "Git back 'ere, ye ole frogwives, she ain't goin' to slay nobeast. Lord Zwilt'll sort this out when he gits back. Meanwhile, I'm the boss o' this army, an' I ain't afeared o' nobeast, livin' or dead!"

When Vilaya arrived at the smouldering fire, all the Ravagers stood to attention. All except Fallug, who was still crouched over the ashes, pulling roasted eggs clear with his twig.

Vilaya looked down at him. Her voice held the ring of authority as she spoke. "Are you the beast they call Fallug?"

Dropping the twig, Fallug drew his dagger, making a show of cracking a partridge egg with the blade. He replied boldly, "Aye, I'm Boss Fallug, an' I'm in charge around 'ere until Lord Zwilt gits back!"

The onlookers to this confrontation were surprised when Vilaya smiled approvingly. Her tone was almost cheerful. "Well said, Boss Fallug. That's the way it should be! But the Sable Quean has always ruled over all Ravagers, so I'll take charge now. You won't be needed anymore." Reaching down, she patted the back of his neck.

Oakheart Witherspyk had mounted the battlements once more, trying to assess the new situation, which was puzzling them all.

"D'ye think somethin's going on out there, Skipper?"

The otter leaned on the walltop. "Aye, mate, I do, an' I just wish I knew exactly wot it was."

Buckler climbed up alongside Oakheart. "They've all gathered round that campfire over yonder, too far t'see what's goin' on."

Axtel drew the war hammer from his belt. "You'm wanten oi to goo an' take ee lukk, zurr? Et woan't bee no trubble to oi."

355

Diggs interposed hastily. "No need for that, old lad. Rest that jolly old footpaw of yours, wot. Besides, who are we to argue if the bloomin' wretched vermin want to chuck in fightin' for the day? Maybe they've decided to take afternoon tea. Jolly good idea, don't y'think, eh, Buck?"

Jango shook his head at the gluttonous young hare. "Don't ye think of anythin' aside o' vittles? We've not long eaten lunch!"

Diggs gave his ears a cavalier wiggle as he set off down the wallsteps. "Pish tush, sah. That's alright for you t'say-- shrews don't need as much bally nourishment as hares do. I'll just toodle off down t'the jolly old kitchens an' see what the Friar is fryin' up, wot! Oh, I say, that was rather a good un, the Friar fryin' up stuff, wot?"

Glancing back, he saw his pun had not been appreciated. With that, he strode off, chunnering. "No sense o' humour. That's the trouble with you mouldy lot. Thought it was pretty funny m'self, Friar fryin' an' all that. My old aunt Twodge was right, where there's no sense, there's no bloomin' feelin'. Huh, she was right!"

Flib climbed up alongside Buckler. She nodded toward the Ravager army. "They might've stopped fightin', but that don't mean the dirty scum ain't hatchin' summat up. Take my word, mate, we'd do well t'keep an eye on that lousy lot!"

Buckler hid a smile, nodding vigorously. "Right, marm, I'll take yore advice, marm, good of ye to mention it, marm, thank ye kindly!"

The Guosim maid eyed him coldly. "Marm me jus' once more an' I'll shove ye off'n this wall... rabbet!"

Buckler tweaked her ear. "Aye, try callin' me rabbet again an' I'll take ye with me, cheekyface!"

Pulling free of the hare's grip, Flib eyed Buckler with a face like thunder.

Jango winked at Buckler. "Growin' up into a proper Guosim lady, ain't she?"

356

Sniffy the Tracker nodded over at the foebeasts' position. "Sounds like they're fixin' to start somethin'. Lissen t'that. Sounds like a war chant to me, Chief."

Log a Log Jango cupped an ear in the direction. "Aye, they're yellin' somethin', I can't make out wot it is, though. Ahoy, Flib, me darlin', can ye make out wot those vermin are chantin'?"

After standing for a moment in rebellious silence, Flib relented, complying with her father's request.

"Vilaya, Vilaya, Sable Quean! That's wot they're callin'. Prob'ly workin' themselves up for action."

Buckler nodded courteously toward her. "Thankee, mate. You've got good sharp ears!"

She smiled, her sullen mood fading. "I've got better ears than my pa or Sniffy. You'd be surprised at some o' the things I can hear."

Buckler nodded. "I'm sure I would."

Flib looked toward the Abbey building. "I just heard a noise from over there--bet you didn't!"

Buckler was concentrating more on the Ravagers' shouts, which were growing louder, but to humour Flib, he asked, "What sort of noise was it?"

She shrugged. "Came from the south side o' the Abbey. Sounded like wot you yell out sometimes. Eu-lowly-oh!"

The Salamandastron Blademaster was suddenly alert. "Y'mean Eulalia, the Long Patrol war cry? That'll be Diggs--he must be in some sort of bother! Skip, Jango, keep a close watch on those Ravagers. I'll be back as soon as possible. Guard that rubble pile in front o' the gates. If they charge, they'll try to come at us straight up it. I've got to go!" Drawing the long rapier from its back scabbard, Buckler sped off down the wallsteps.

Grakk had replaced the slain Fallug, who lay stiff on the ground, his face fixed in a hideous grin caused by the adder venom from Vilaya's lethal little knife. She stood

357

to one side, nibbling daintily on a roasted partridge egg, watching her new commander whipping the vermin into a battle frenzy. Grakk used thrusts of his spear to emphasise words.

Zwilt was temporarily forgotten, now that the Ravagers had fallen under the spell of their Sable Quean. One who could rise from the dead, and the bars of Hellgates. She who could slay a warrior like Fallug with a single touch of her paw. What else could they do but follow her? En masse, they thundered out their replies to Grakk's questions.

"Who do we serve? Who do we serve?"

"Vilaya! Vilaya! Sable Quean! Yahaaaaaarrrr!"

"An' who are we? What do we do?"

"Ravagers! Ravagers! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

They began the advance, waving spears, axes, pikes and all manner of weaponry. Stamping hard with their footpaws, until the open flatlands thrummed like a great drum, as they repeated over and over, "Vilaya! Vilaya! Sable Quean! Yahaaaaar! Ravagers! Ravagers! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Buckler instinctively knew where Diggs would be--around the kitchen area. If it was not a usual mealtime, the tubby rascal would make his way to the kitchen window. Pasties, pies, scones and tarts were often taken from the ovens and left to cool on the open window ledge. Cutting along the south side of the Abbey building, Buckler sensed right off that something was amiss. He drew his blade, running to the window. One glance was all that was needed.

Amidst the welter of broken dishes and scattered food, Diggs lay slumped on the floor. Vaulting over the windowsill, the young hare went straight to his companion. Turning Diggs over, he cradled his head, leaning close to his nose. Thanking the seasons that Diggs was breathing, Buckler reached for an oven cloth to stanch the deep wound on his unconscious friend's head. Binding it tight,

358

he reached out a footpaw, pulling a half-empty sack of flour close. Resting Diggs's head on the makeshift pillow, Buckler suddenly became alert.

There were cries of alarm from within Great Hall, coupled with the sound of a little one wailing. Grabbing up his long rapier, he charged out to confront the intruders.

Buckler skidded to a halt. Abbess Marjoram, Clarinna, Jango's wife, Furm, Drull Hogwife and Dymphnia, Witherspyk, clutching Dubdub to her, were surrounded by Zwilt the Shade and his four Ravagers. Buckler knew that only by keeping cool could he rescue them.

Leaning on his sword, he shook his head at the foebeast, commenting scornfully, "Making war on ladies and an infant now, 'tis a brave thing t'do. What a great pity a real warrior's turned up. So, what'll you do now, coward?"

Zwilt's broadsword was already drawn. He drove his Ravagers away from him. "Stand clear and keep a watch on the others, lest they try to run outside and give the alarm. Well, rabbet, come for a lesson in swordplay, have you?" He began circling, his blade swishing the air as he limbered up his paw.

Buckler circled in the opposite direction, holding his weapon lightly. He smiled coldly. "Always ready to learn, if you think you're the master, though I thought babe stealing was your chosen trade."

Both beasts continued circling, drawing closer to each other. It was obvious Zwilt and Buckler were skilled swordbeasts. They locked eyes, never letting their gaze stray. Moving nearer, they walked side on, to present the narrowest target. Footpaws braced nimbly, each seeking an opening.

Herded to the side of the stairway by their captors, Marjoram and her friends watched the duel.

Zwilt, feeling he was close enough, made the initial move. Bounding at his opponent, he struck out with the broadsword, hissing viciously, "Tizzzzz death!"

Buckler sidestepped, countering with a single slash

359

which deflected the broadsword. As he passed Zwilt, he flicked out his blade, nicking his enemy's ear.

Zwilt lashed out on the turn, laying a wound across Buckler's cheek. The young hare knew that stopping to consider a cut was fatal in a fight to the death. Ducking low, he scythed out with the long rapier, slashing Zwilt's left footpaw.

With his blade cutting whirring arcs, the sable warmed to the attack, pacing high, stepping forward, seeking to drive the hare back.

Buckler, familiar with the move, stood his ground, jabbing with his swordpoint between Zwilt's swings. The sable felt the rapier tip jab his sword paw--he was forced to back off.

Now Buckler came forward. Step! Jab! Parry! Lunge! Zwilt went sideways, one of his swings catching the young hare's side at the waist. Grabbing the big broadsword in both paws, Zwilt battered away at Buckler, who was forced to crouch.

Using this position to his advantage, the hare came upward in a leap, shouting his war cry. "Eulaliaaa!" He drove his adversary backward with a speedy display of figure-of-eight maneuvers.

Steel clashed upon steel. Zwilt was driven backward; he bounded onto the stairwav, but Buckler was there first. Skipping up a few steps, the hare gained the advantage, coming down on the sable like a thunderbolt. The clang of weapons striking each other echoed about Great Hall.

Both contestants were panting heavily as they hacked and thrust, each desperate to finish off the other. They battled upon the sweeping flight of stairs, up and down, neither giving an inch. Zwilt was swinging wildly when a fierce slash from Buckler scored his muzzle. He retreated downstairs, leaving a blood trail behind him. Clamping a paw to his wounded side, the young hare hastened to the attack.

360

Zwilt was losing the fight. He knew he had met a sword-beast who was more than his match. For the first time in his life, the sable felt the broadsword was becoming too heavy to lift. The hare was still light on his paws, wielding the rapier with skill and vigour. So Zwilt the Shade made the only move left open to him.

Hurtling down the stairs, he grabbed baby Dubdub from his mother's paws. Holding his blade against the tiny hog's throat, Zwilt rasped viciously, "Get back, or this one's a deadbeast!"

Dymphnia Witherspyk tried to snatch her baby back. "Don't hurt him, give him to me! Oh, please!"

Abbess Marjoram pulled Dymphnia away. "Stay clear, friend, or he'll hurt the little one, I know he will. His kind are evil--stay clear!"

Dubdub squealed as Zwilt squeezed him. The sable gestured at the ladies, snarling savagely, "Get out of here, you lot. My business is with the rabbet, not you. Begone quickly or the babe suffers!"

Buckler beckoned the ladies away. "The babe will be alright. Go now. I'll settle things with this vermin!"

Abbess Marjoram shepherded them away to the other end of the hall. Still keeping his blade ready, Buckler confronted his foe. "So, now what?"

Zwilt moved out into the open, holding the baby hog tight. "Throw your sword away, rabbet!"

The young hare hesitated.

Zwilt raised his voice. "Cast that blade away or I'll have this one in two pieces!"

The long rapier clattered on stone floor as Zwilt ordered his four Ravagers, "Get him--take hold of him, now!"

Buckler called out as they seized him, "Are you going to let the babe go free?"

Zwilt's smile was cold evil. "Of course I am. As soon as I've slain you!"

Dubdub wriggled, squealing, "Leggo me, nastybeast!"

361

Buckler held out his paw, cautioning the infant hog, "Be still, now, and stay quiet. You'll soon be back with your mamma."

He nodded at the tall sable. "A life for a life, then. Is that the bargain?"

Skilfully, Zwilt flicked Buckler's fallen rapier with the blade of his broadsword. It skittered away to where it was totally out of the young hare's reach.

The sable eyed his captive coldly.

"The time for bargaining is over. You are in no position to bargain. This babe may live, then again, he may not. A lot of your friends will die before Zwilt the Shade and his Ravagers are done here."

Enraged by his captor's treachery, Buckler bounded forward, trying to reach Zwilt, but the vermin guards clung to him. Sinews stood out on the hare's neck as he yelled, "Coward! Liar! The old sayin' is right! The best vermin is a dead one! Zwilt the Shade? Hah! Zwilt the Scum, more like it!"

The sable was shaking with rage at the insult. He passed Dubdub to one of the Ravagers.

"Get him to those stairs. Kneel him down and grab his ears. We'll see what he has to say when his head is decorating the point of a spear!"

The guards dragged Buckler, struggling wildly, to the stairs. Forcibly, they made him kneel, two holding his fore-paws from behind, with the remaining one tugging on his ears, stretching his neck taut.

Zwilt stood over his victim, raising the big broadsword aloft to judge the strike. "Well, rabbet, you don't look so brave now, do you?"

Craning his head sideways, Buckler stared with loathing at his enemy. "I don't answer to cowards!"

The broad blade flashed in the candlelit hall. Then it stopped in midair. Zwilt was still grasping it, but his mouth was wide open, as though he was silently screaming.

362

Buckler watched in amazement as the sable lost his grip on the sword. He swayed once, then fell to a kneeling position, facing his intended victim. A hoarse rattle issued from Zwilt's throat; his eyes held a look of surprise as he stared at Buckler. Then he toppled sideways on the stairs. Dead!

Clarinna was bent over him still holding the hilt of Martin the Warrior's legendary sword, which she had driven deep between Zwilt's shoulder blades. The hare-wife stood dry-eyed, her voice unusually harsh for such a gentle creature.

"That's for Clerun Kordyne, the father of my babes, who you murdered!"

Baby Dubdub lay on the floor where the guard had placed him before running off with the other Ravagers, who had quickly released Buckler. He seemed none the worse for his recent ordeal, repeating the last word he had heard, over and over.

"Murdered, murdered, murdered!"

Leaving Martin's sword protruding from Zwilt, Clarinna picked up little Dubdub. She wept into his tender spikes.

Abbess Marjoram came hurrying with her friends. Buckler stood, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the stiffness. He gathered the broadsword and the medal from his fallen enemy's neck, passing them to Clarinna. "These belong in your family. I'm sorry I couldn't have slain Zwilt for you, marm."

Abbess Marjoram had retrieved Buckler's blade. She held it out to him. "Don't be sorry. You did something far braver than slaying a vermin--you offered to sacrifice your life to save another."

The young hare did not stop to dispute the point. He sped off, rapier in paw, for the door.

"Maybe so, but there's four vermin loose within Red-wall, and we're being invaded from the west flatlands!"

363

30

Buckler came running up to the walltop, thinking to use it as a viewpoint to seek out the four vermin guards. He was almost knocked flat by Bartij, who bustled past him carrying a boulder.

The big hedgehog beckoned to the stones piled on the walkway. "Lend a paw here, Buck. We need more stones. That young badgermaid's got our cattypult goin'. Hoho, ye should see it lobbin' stones at yon vermin!"

Skipper was alongside theballista, waving. "Ahoy, mate, come an' see this thing workin'!"

Ambrevina had made a few alterations to the weapon. Now it had two thick young alder saplings, sturdy trunks, culled from the Abbey grounds. Between these, an old canvas groundsheet was laced. She had rigged the whole thing up on the original timbers. Ropes were attached to the tops of the alders. These were secured to a heavy baulk of oak, which had a hole drilled in it. A team of moles and Witherspyk hogs hauled on the ropes, leaning their weight on the oaken baulk. This bent the alder saplings backward until a wooden peg, anchored to the timber base, could be inserted into the baulk hole.

Four good-sized rocks were laid in the canvas sling. Jango stood on the battlements, watching the oncoming

364

Ravagers. The Guosim Log a Log called the range. "Back! Stop! Left a bit! Stop! Ready, Ambry!"

Using a bung mallet, the badgermaid knocked the peg out with a sharp tap, releasing the stone load. There was a whoosh of air as the four rocks shot off over the battlements and out over the flatland into the ranks of the advancing vermin. Even though they scattered, the missiles fell so swiftly that two were slain and three more lay injured, screaming in the dust.

Skipper nodded at the Abbey building. "Everythin' alright down there, Buck?"

The young hare moved out of the way, allowing a mole to stumble past under the weight of a big sandstone chunk.

"Zwilt was in the Abbey, but he's been slain. There's four vermin loose in the grounds, an' Diggs is lyin' wounded in the kitchen!"

Skipper picked up his javelin. "I'll see t'the vermin. Sister Fumbril, will ye go an' attend our mate Diggs? He's been injured."

The Warrior mole Axtel had been listening. He stumped off down the wallstairs, brandishing his war hammer. "You'm leave ee vurmints to oi, zurrs. They h'aint a-goin' nowheres twixt ee four walls. Oi'll see to 'em. Hurrr!"

Sister Fumbril joined Axtel. "Then ye can walk me as far as the kitchens, sir."

Buckler took a rock from old Granvy. It was far too heavy for the aged Recorder, who smiled his thanks.

"Thank the seasons we have a creature who knows about these ballista things. Dame Fortune must've sent the badgermaid to us. Apparently, the beasts where she comes from, on the eastern coastlands, use them all the time. Both she and her family have sunk many a searat galley before it ever came to shore."

Oakheart Witherspyk leaned on the threshold wall, watching the vermin advance. "The scoundrels are still comin', sirrah. It strikes me that one ballista ain't enough to stop all of 'em. What say ye, Buck?"

365

The hare came to join his friend on the threshold. "Aye, Oakie, this is where the final battle will be--on this point, where the hill is piled in front of Redwall's gate. Once they cross that ditch, they'll try an' force an entry by chargin' us. Unless..."

The Sable Quean stood at the back of the slow-moving advance, urging the Ravagers forward. "They can't get us all with a few boulders. Double-march them, Grakk. The quicker we reach that hill of rubble, the sooner we'll make an end of it. The woodlanders are still outnumbered. We can do it with one good charge. Speed up the chant, get them moving."

Grakk could see great things ahead for himself. Boldly, he marched along with the rear ranks, roaring out, "Wait'll we gets in there, bullies! Ye can eat all ye like, sleep on soft beds an' be waited on tail an' paw by woodlander slaves! Sable Quean Vilaya! Kill kill kill!"

Not committed yet to a head-on charge, the Ravagers broke into a shambling trot, waving their weapons and taking up the call, which spurred them on.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! Victory to Vilaya, Sable Quean!"

Having left Redwall by the small north wallgate, with a heavily armed force, Buckler, Jango and a crew of Guosim warriors sped silently along to put the plan into action. Emerging from the woodlands north of the Ravagers, they hurried over the path, then slipped quietly into the ditch. A short time thereafter, they were in the main gate area, peering over the ditchtop at the unsuspecting vermin advance.

The Guosim were in two lines, one behind the other. Buckler commanded the front line.

"Put shafts to bowstrings, an' make every arrow count. On my word now. Stand! Draw! Shoot!"

The front rank of Ravagers were taken by surprise. The sudden volley of barbed shafts hit them hard.

Buckler signalled his archers to stand back; Jango took

366

over. "Back row, forward! Slings an' javelins! Stand! Throw! Fall back!"

This time it was a salvo of stones and fire-hardened ashwood javelins which hit home, thinning the Ravager horde. They fell flat, returning the missiles with their own stones, spears and arrows.

Vilaya lay facedown on the flatland, striking at Grakk's footpaws. "Get them up, keep going, we're almost there!"

Orders rang out from the ditch. More shafts, javelins and slingstones pelted down on the vermin. Grakk was about to rise when a dull whump rent the air. Black smoke billowed out, followed by sparks and flames.

Jango tossed the empty cauldron of dirty kitchen fat on the blazing battering ram. Slapping his ears with a paw, he blinked through the billowing haze. "Scorched me ears, whiskers'n' blinkin' eyebrows to a frazzle, there. Ahoy, Buck!"

Buckler shoved the Shrew Chieftain ahead of him, along the ditch bottom with the rest of his Guosim fighters. "Hurry, mate, back to the Abbey while they're still won-derin' what happened!"

Cellarmole Gurjee and Axtel Sturnclaw met them at the north wallgate. As they piled in, Buckler locked the gate behind them.

"Anything to report here?"

Axtel'o eyes were still blood-tinged from the berserk fury. He was limping about in circles as he touched his snout in a brief salute. "Oi h'accounted furr three o' they vurmints, zurr. Ee fourth un throwed hisself frum ee wall-top an' perished without offerin' a foight. Oi'm h'awaitin' further orders, zurr, thankee koindly!"

Jango glanced up at the twilight sky. "Best git yoreself up atop o'er the gate. There'll be battle aplenty for ye there soon!"

Buckler bounded onto the north wallsteps. "Right, mates, no time to waste now!"

367

Some of the defenders had wrapped damp cloths about their faces to counteract the black smoke billowing up from the ditch. The ram was blazing; the flames had taken hold. From down below there was silence--not a Ravager could be seen anywhere.

Trajidia Witherspyk lowered her face cover, trilling, "Hoorah! Victory is ours. The rascally foe have been routed! Rejoice, brave friends, rejoice!"

Oakheart fixed her with a withering glance. "Cease your foolish prattle, daughter dear. Well, my comrades in arms, what think ye?"

Skipper watched the dark, oily smoke clouding the setting sun. "I don't like it. Somethin's goin' on."

Jango nodded agreement. "Aye, they ain't just upped stakes an' left. They'll be back, y'can be sure. But when?"

Axtel gave an experienced warrior's opinion. "When ee doan't bees 'spectin' et, zurr, that's when."

Buckler paced back and forth, framed in the last rays of daylight. "Right, sir, it'll be sometime durin' the night. Vilaya will try to catch us nappin'. So we must be alert an' on guard all through the darkness."

Abbess Marjoram came up on the walkway. "Is everything under control? How are we doing?"

Skipper saluted with his javelin. "We've beaten 'em off once, marm, an' we're fit'n'ready for any vermin wot wants a second try. No need for ye to worry, marm."

Marjoram smiled warmly at the Otter Chieftain. "Why would I ever worry, with such brave warriors to keep my Abbey safe? I just came to tell you that Friar Soogum and his helpers will be arriving soon with supper."

Oakheart patted his rumbling paunch. "Kind of ye t'be so considerate, friend Marj. We could all manage a bite or two. It's been a long, weary day, an' the night will be far more tiresome, I suspect."

The Abbess tapped Buckler's paw. "I think perhaps you'd better come to the Infirmary. I'd like you to look in on Mister Diggs."

368

Buckler gave the matter some brief thought before replying, "Er, much as I'd like to, marm, I rather think my place is up here--in case of trouble, y'see. I'm sure Diggs would agree if he were here, marm."

Skipper gave the hare's shoulder a nudge. "Go on with ye, Buck. If'n anythin' breaks, we'll let ye know loud'n'clear. Right, mate?"

Axtel winked at Buckler. "Roight, zurr. Us'll raise a gurt showt that'd be hurd ten leagues off'n. You'm go an' see ee friend Diggsy!"

As Marjoram and Buckler passed through Great Hall, a song that was almost a dirge echoed out. It gave the Abbess a start. "Good grief. What's that?"

Buckler knew. He pointed out Clarinna, who was seated in a corner beside the body of Zwilt the Shade. She had a bowl of water, with which she was cleaning the blade of Martin's sword whilst singing the dirge to the slain enemy.

Buckler explained this to Marjoram. "Clarinna could not properly grieve the murder of her mate, my brother Clerun, until his killer was punished. It's an old Salamandastron custom."

Pausing, they listened to the eerie sound. Clarinna carried on singing, oblivious to their presence.

"Sleep now, my love, rest quietly in peace, the cost of thy blood now is paid, for I with mine own paw, fulfilled the warriors' law, exacting vengeance with this shining blade.

Thy son and daughter, too, who'll grow not knowing you,

I'll tell them that you dwell by tranquil streams, amidst the silent trees, mid fields of memories, mayhaps sometimes you'll visit them in dreams.

Sleep now, sleep now, my love, sleep on, for time will dry all tears and ease the pain, now justice has been done, sleep on, my love, sleep on, until the day when we shall meet again."

369

As they mounted the stairs, Buckler observed, "Clarinna won't recover properly until her babes are back with her. They're happy enough for the moment with Mumzy the old water vole, thanks to Ambrevina and Diggs. How's the old rascal doing, marm?"

Marjoram led the way up to the Infirmary. "See for yourself. Sister Fumbril has taken care of that dreadful head wound he took, but at the moment, he's drifting in and out of consciousness."

Diggs lay very still on his sickbay bed, his head swathed in a turban of herb salves and bandages. Buckler stood staring at his friend as he spoke to Sister Fumbril. "How's he doing, Sister?"

The jolly otter healer shook her head dubiously. "There's no way of knowin', sir, he's been like that since he was carried up here. It was a terrible wound, a stroke of a big sword, I think. He's lost an ear an' been scarred for life. I'm waitin' on him t'wake up, but he ain't respondin'."

Buckler eyed a table laden with food of all sorts. "Bring that table closer, Abbess. I've never known the tubby fraud to sleep through any mealtimes. Let me try."

Seating himself by the bed, Buckler started into the delicious repast, commenting loudly, "Mmmm, hazelnut'n'apple bake with arrowroot sauce. I wonder, should I save some for old Diggs? No, he never saved any for me back in the Long Patrol mess. Hello, what's this? Mushroom, leek and gravy pasty! I say, Diggs, d'you fancy a bite o' this? It's yore favourite. Yummy still nice'n'hot, too!"

Diggs groaned. Opening one eye, he glanced quizzically at Buckler and said in a voice like an old officer, "Wot... wot? An' who are you, sirrah? Speak up!"

Buckler smiled. 'C'mon, you great fat fraud. It's me, Buckler, your mate!"

Diggs opened the other eye, staring scornfully at his lifelong companion. "Buckler, eh? Bit of an odd handle for a chap. 'Fraid I've never had the pleasure of meetin' ye. An' who in the name of snits'n'scuts is Diggs, eh?"

370

Buckler poured himself a beaker of October Ale. "Diggs is you, y'great lardsack, that's yore name!"

Diggs snorted. "Piffle'n'balderdash, laddie buck. I'm Colonel Crockley Sputherington--known as Sputhers t'my friends, but you ain't no chum of mine, sah, so show a bit of bloomin' respect to a superior officer, wot, wot!" His friend held out a slice of the pastie.

"Oh, right y'are, Colonel, sah. How about tryin' a bit of this scoff? It's very good, y'know."

Diggs wrinkled his nose. "Take it away, this very instant, y'greedy buffoon. It looks disgustin'!"

Buckler appealed to Sister Fumbril. "It ain't like him to refuse vittles. What should I do?"

The cheerful otter shrugged. "Be thankful he's still alive, I suppose. I'd try humourin' him, if'n I was you."

Diggs glared at the Sister--he was outraged. "Humour y'self, y'great grinnin' planktail. One more word an' I'll have ye slapped on a fizzer for gross insolence, marm! Now, take y'self jolly well off, go on! An' take this gluttonous oaf with ye. Aye, an' all this mess y'call vittles. The very sight of it makes me ill!"

Deciding to take Fumbril's tip, Buckler stood to attention, throwing the patient a stiff salute. "Right y'are, Colonel Crockley Sputherington, sah. Come on now, marm. Let's shift all this stuff an' let the good officer get a spot of shut-eye. He must be tired."

Any further discussion was cut short by a thunderous war cry from out in the grounds. "Redwaaaaaaalllll! Red-waaaaaallll!"

Buckler hurtled from the Infirmary, calling to Sister Fumbril, "That's it, the attack! I'm needed on the walltops, they've made their move!"

As the sickbay door slammed behind him, Diggs cast a pitying glance at the Abbess, sighing. "Chap's off his rocker, gone bonkers, I'd say. Dearie, dearie me. How sad for a beast so blinkin' young, wot!"

371

The battle of Redwall Abbey really had started in earnest. Like a foul tide, the Ravagers charged over the remainder of the nightdark flatlands, bellowing bloodcurdling war cries. Buckler came bounding up the wallsteps to join Skipper and Jango on the threshold battlements. The Guosim Chieftain was honing his rapier on the smooth sandstone.

"I knew that cattypult wouldn't stop the scum forever. They've still got more'n enough vermin to overrun us."

Buckler's long rapier swished as he drew it. "Aye, but the ballista bought us a bit o' time. Pity it can't be used for close-up work. Well, this is it, mates--we need everybeast that can fight right here!"

Jango, Skipper and Oakheart began bawling orders.

"Logalogalogalooooog! Guosim to me!"

"Redwaaaaaallll! Come on, buckoes, let's show 'em!"

"Gather to me, brave beasts! Woe unto they who would face a Witherspyk!"

Axtel Sturnclaw began pounding a baulk of timber with his war hammer, roaring, "Woooohuuuurrrr! Cumm an' meet ee choild o' death, vurmints! Woooohuuuuurrrr!"

Vilaya caught up with Grakk, who was at the centre of the first wave. She yelled at him above the noise, "Get them across that ditch an' straight up the hill onto the wall. Don't stop--keep up a full charge. Once our Ravagers are on the walltops, we'll eat them alive. Don't fail me, Grakk! You're in command now!"

Flib joined the second row of archers and slingers. Trajidia Witherspyk, armed with a sling and stones, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her. Flib's blood was up--she bounced up and down, whirling her sling in anticipation of the action.

"Yaharrr! We'll show that scummy lot the way to Hell-gates. First vermin that shows his nose over the wall's a flamin' deadbeast, eh, Traj?"

372

Faced with the reality of life and death in warfare, the hogmaid's dramatic nature suddenly deserted her. "Oh, er, right, Flib, we'll show them.... But what are we supposed to do? I mean, do we actually have to kill other creatures, face-to-face?"

Flib laughed recklessly. "Well, o' course we do, ya blinkin' wiltin' lily! If'n ye don't kill Ravagers, they'll kill you. Just sling'n'whack'n'batter as hard as ya can. Stick by my side. I'll show ya how!"

Streaming to either side of the burning ram, vermin fighters scrambled out of the ditch. Grakk urged them up the sloping hill of rubble, waving his spear, and firing them up.

"Take the Abbey, ye bold buckoes! Let's conquer the place an' live the good life. Go to it if'n ye want enough vittles t'stuff yoreselves, aye, an' slaves to serve ye! It's all there for a night's killin'!"

The first score mounted the pile, their footpaws sinking in as they scrabbled upward. Buckler waited until he could see their villainous faces rising through the smoke and darkness. He raised his blade, steadying the first row.

"Stand ready.... Wait now.... On my command ... Shoot!"

A hail of shafts and slingstones whined through the air like angry wasps. Screams and gurgles rang out from below, followed by a salvo of thrown spears and javelins. Three Guosim fell to the missiles, two wounded, one dead.

Now the second wave of vermin came climbing up over the bodies of their fallen comrades. This time, there were more of them, and the ascent was faster. Jango heard Buckler calling his row to fall back and reload. The Guosim Chieftain leapt onto the battlements, shouting, "Second row forward.... Stand ready...."

Flib whirled her sling, winking at Trajidia. "Here we go now, Traj. Good huntin', mate!"

373

Jango's command rapped out as they stepped to the threshold. "On my command ... Shoot!"

Trajidia was about to loose her slingstone when the scarred head of a rat poked over the top at her. She whacked the loaded sling down hard on her enemy's skull. The rat stumbled, grunted and kept coming. The hogmaid hit him again. And again. And again! An insane strength seemed to fill her limbs. She was screaming like a madbeast, "Eeeeeyaaaaah! Get back, back, baaaack!"

The rat reared to his full height on the walltop, then fell lifeless in front of her. She slung off her stone at a stoat who was following the rat. He toppled backward, struck full in the throat. Trajidia heard the order to fall back and allow the third row forward. She retreated, loading up her sling, laughing hysterically in Flib's face. "I did it, I did it, mate! See that! Two of 'em--I got two Ravagers. Eeeeeyaaaaah!"

The rows of defenders had now fallen into disarray, so fierce was the vermin onslaught. Buckler was everywhere at once with his commanders. Thrusting, kicking, slashing and stabbing at an endless stampede of vermin attackers. The Redwallers were sure to be overwhelmed as the tide of Ravagers swept upward. Some were even now fighting on the walkway, in paw-to-paw combat with the lesser force.

Then the unexpected happened. Ambrevina smashed the ballista to smithereens with a fusillade of blows from her mighty paws. Timber went flying everywhere as she grabbed both the young alder trunks, with the canvas sling tied between them. Skipper saw what was coming. He acted swiftly, ordering the defenders to retreat south along the walltops.

"Back to the south corner, everybeast. Stay out o' that badger's way or ye'll be slain!"

Buckler, Skipper, Jango and Oakheart put their backs to the retreat, fighting off the Ravagers who were pursuing

374

them. There was, however, not much need for this when Axtel arrived on the scene.

The Warrior mole was in roaring Bloodwrath, hurling himself joyfully into the advancing Ravagers. His war hammer rose and fell, as if he was a mighty smith working at an anvil.

Ambrevina swept the walkway clear, wielding both the supple young trunks, bellowing in fury. Vermin flew through the air, right over the walltops, left, right and centre. The drastically thinned ranks of the foebeast could not, nor would not, face two such beasts consumed with the urge to slaughter. Even those climbing the heap fell back. However, this could not save them. Having cleared the threshold and west walkway, Ambrevina and Axtel jumped over the wall. They came thundering down upon the Ravagers like twin thunderbolts.

Buckler grabbed Jango. "Come on, Log a Log, get your Guosim and let's finish this! Skipper, Oakheart, stay up here and guard the Abbey. See to the wounded!"

Seeing the battle lost, Vilaya took to her paws and fled across the flatlands, with panic lending speed to her footpaws. Grakk ran, too. Panting and gasping, he caught up with the Sable Quean.

"Majesty, did ye see that? The big stripedog an' that other thing, the madbeast with the hammer? Once they came at us, we stood no chance. We need a new plan now."

Vilaya threw a paw around the weasel's shoulder. "I plan to get far away from here, travelling alone."

Grakk sensed what was about to happen--he knew Vilaya, and knew what he had to expect for the failed conquest. He tried to pull away, but too late. The Sable Quean was already thrusting with her small venomous blade.

She released him then. He collapsed to the ground with a small sigh. Vilaya stared down at him.

"Mayhap you never heard me say I travel alone."

She sped off into the night, leaving Grakk staring at her retreating figure. It gradually grew dim, as did his eyes.

375

The once-fearsome army of Ravagers was defeated on the path twixt the ditch and the Abbey's west wall. Leaderless and totally unnerved by the ferocity of the counterattack launched upon them, they scattered and stumbled off in disarray. Buckler chased after a small group, but only for a short distance. Putting up his blade, he returned to the Abbey.

Skipper was sitting on the hill in front of the main gates, watching the burning battering ram. He nodded to the hare. "I think that's the last we've seen of the Ravagers, mate. Take a seat an' rest yore paws."

The young hare sat down beside him with a sigh. "I chased after one or two of 'em, but they were runnin' scared. No point in catchin' vermin who've lost the will to fight, so I gave up."

Skipper probed at the debris with his javelin tip. "Hah, try tellin' that to Jango an' his Guosim. Those shrews don't take no prisoners, mate!"

Buckler rose, dusting himself off. "Well, you know what they say. The only good vermin's a dead un. It's hard to break a lifetime's habit. Did ye see anythin' o' Axtel or Ambry? Are they off huntin' vermin, too?"

Skipper pointed west over the flatlands, which were tinged with pale reflections of early dawn from the eastern sky. "Went over yonder, both of 'em, though ole Axtel was goin' a lot slower'n the badgermaid. Somebeast said the Sable Quean had run off that way."

Buckler leapt the ditch with a single bound. "I'm goin' after 'em, Skip. Keep yore eyes peeled on things around here, mate!"

The Otter Chieftain shrugged. "Not much t'see now the battle's over--ahoy, go easy up there! Can't a beast sit in peace for a moment?"

He dodged to one side as a Ravager carcass rolled down from the walltop, followed by several more.

Foremole Darbee poked his homely face over the wall.

376

"Oo hurr, moi pololojees, zurr! Me'n moi crew bee's shiftin' ee slayed vurmints often ee rampits t'be buried."

Skipper climbed nimbly to the threshold, his dignity still intact. "Well done, good sirs. The ole place could do with a tidy-up. Don't want Abbess Marj seein' this lot lyin' about Redwall, do we?"

The Abbess appeared at the top of the gatehouse steps. "We most certainly don't, though I'll excuse it this time, seeing as how you restored my Abbey to me. So, what can I do to reward you goodbeasts?"

Oakheart came panting up onto the parapet. "A smidgeon of breakfast wouldn't go amiss, my dear Marj."

Marjoram curtsied, smiling. "Then breakfast it shall be!"

A crowd of defenders made their way across the lawns, with Oakheart Witherspyk, in fine baritone voice, giving a rendition of a song he had written many seasons ago for one of his renowned Witherspyk productions. He remembered it well, because he had cast himself in the role of the conquering hero. Everybeast soon caught on to the chant which opened each verse, and the repetition of the final verse line.

"We won we won we won we won....

A victory's like the finest of wine,

I can say this without conceit.

We left our enemies to dine on the bitterness of defeat.

The bitterness of defeat!

"So hey sing ho as we merrily go, no warriors happy as we, for every beast will share a feast, of the fruits of victory!

"We won we won we won we won....

Oh, see the foe as away they go, all battered an' beaten full sore,

377

we wave our swords an' shout hoho!

They'll never come back for more.

No, they'll never come back for more!

"Let's cheer out near an' far hoorah, brave comrades, rally to me.

Not a moment to waste, come on an' taste the fruits of victoreeeeeee!"

Drull Hogwife met them at the Abbey door. She was looking flustered. "Ooh, er, beg pardon, Mother Abbess, but is Mister Diggs with ye?"

Skipper answered for her. "No, marm, Diggs ain't with us. He was lyin' wounded in the sickbay last I heard."

Drull threw her apron up over her face. "Oh, corks, he ain't there now. Diggs 'as gone!"

378

31

After ridding herself of Grakk, Vilaya pressed on awhile before settling down to rest. The Sable Quean lay behind a small hummock. The defeat of her forces at Redwall rankled her, though not for long. Ever an opportunist and a creature of whim, she chose to stay alone for some time. If and when she needed another following, it was a simple matter.

Vermin had always been in awe of Vilaya. She was quick, ruthless and intelligent--all the qualities which made her a Sable Quean. Maybe the next band of roving barbarians she might meet up with would prove suitable to serve her. Redwall to her was nought but a bad dream, which she pushed to the back of her mind. She was far away from the Abbey now. She would not worry about the severe lesson she had learned at the paws of simple woodlanders. However, a lesson learned was a gaining of knowledge. She drifted off into a light sleep.

Daylight was fully up when she woke. She stretched, standing up as she gazed around. Larks chirruped in the high azure sky, grasshoppers rustled, bees hummed, and myriad-hued butterflies flew silently upon the high summer morn. All this natural beauty was wasted upon

379

Vilaya--she was hungry and thirsty. Then she saw the distant figure coming over the flatlands toward her.

The Sable Quean cursed herself for a fool. Always having Ravagers on guard, ready to report any movement, it was strange having to shift for herself. Her eyesight was keen; she stood still until she identified the unmistakable bulk. The big badger was tracking her, moving at a steady lope.

Ambrevina plodded doggedly on. She had slowed her pace to accommodate Axtel and his injured footpaw. In the half-light of dawn, the Warrior mole had rallied somewhat, even running slightly ahead of her. Then he stumbled, tripping over the huddled body of Grakk. Axtel sat rocking back and forth, his velvety face creased in pain as he hugged the damaged footpaw. Ambrevina knelt by his side.

"Are you hurt, my friend? How can I help?"

The sturdy mole would not look at her. He waved a mighty digging claw, grunting, "You'm carry on, marm. Oi'm h'only 'olden ee back. Catch ee up wi' ee villyun. If'n you'm wanten to 'elp oi, do that. Leave yon evil vurmint in such ee way that she'm carn't 'urt any more pore likkle uns. Hurrr!"

The huge badgermaid clasped her friend's digging claw briefly. "You rest here, I'll pick you up on my way back. Don't worry about the Sable Quean. Death marked her well on the day she murdered a young otter called Flandor. I took an oath she'd pay for his death."

Axtel Sturnclaw watched her lope off westward, with pale dawn light on her back.

Ambrevina kept the same pace, conserving her huge strength. Dust pounded off her paws, which sounded like dull drumbeats on the plain. She emptied her mind of everything, concentrating only on her mission. Almost a league further on, she was finally rewarded. The slim lone figure stood out on a hummock in the distance. The drumbeats speeded up as the badgermaid burst into a run.

380

Vilaya took off like a startled hare, telling herself she could outdistance such a big, lumbering beast. After a while she ventured a backward glance. It struck fear into her heart. Framed by the golden summer sunlight, her pursuer was still coming, vengeance lending speed to her scorching pace. The Sable Quean sobbed, a dry lump rising in her throat as she sucked in the warm air. Now she could hear the badger's footpaws-- Whump! Whump! Whump! Whump! --coming onward at a ground-eating rate. Then she heard the hunter's breath, hard and hot, but with no sign of weakening.

Vilaya tried to put on an extra spurt of speed, which she actually did for one brief interval. Then it was as if she was moving waist high through water. She had run out of breath; her pace began flagging. Devoid of energy, she felt her adversary's hot breath on the nape of her neck. Quick as a flash she loosed her long silken cloak. It billowed out and fell, catching the badger's footpaws, snarling her up so that she stumbled.

Ambrevina felt her balance go. Automatically, she threw herself into a headlong leap. She collided with Vilaya's back, sending herself and her quarry thudding to the ground. Being on top, the badgermaid was first up. Swinging her loaded sling, she hefted the sable with a footpaw, turning her over.

The Sable Quean's face was tight with horror. She gasped, "You ... you've killed me!"

Her paw clasped the crystal poison holder and the lethal blade which it sheathed. It had broken and pierced her chest. Vilaya could smell the sickly aroma of serpent venom as it oozed around the wound. Her eyes blazed hatred at the badgermaid standing over her.

"Y-you ... k-killed ... the Sable ... Quea.. ..I"

Ambrevina saw Vilaya's body contort once, twisting like a corkscrew. It went stiff; she died like that.

Flandor, the young friend of Ambrevina Rockflash, had been avenged. She turned and walked away without a

381

backward glance, blinking as the sunlight shone into her eyes, mingling with her tears.

Redwall Abbey's twin bells, Matthias and Methuselah, boomed out a warm brazen message of peace over Mossflower Country. In the aftermath of a temporary breakfast, with the promise of an afternoon feast, Red-wallers and their allies flooded joyfully out into the Abbey grounds.

Buckler, Jango, Oakheart and Skipper accompanied the Abbess, gathering on the gatehouse steps to deal with current matters. Marjoram looked to Buckler for assistance.

"First there's the problem of your friend Diggs. Where do you think he's gone? Maybe you can organise a search party. He could be anywhere in the Abbey, even in the grounds. Very odd, him going off like that."

Buckler did his best to sum up the situation. "Aye, marm, I'll arrange a search locally. As y'say, it is odd, but Diggs was acting strangely after his head wound, as you saw. But I don't care if he thinks he's some old officer." Here Buckler chuckled. "Colonel Crockley Sputherington, wasn't it? Huh, Diggs is Diggs, basically--he can take care of himself. An' as for not wanting vittles, he'll show up faster 'n a scorched frog as soon as his stomach tells him it's dinnertime. Leave the problem of Diggs t'me, marm. Now, what next?"

Oakheart held up a paw. "What's become of our two friends, the real heroes of the battle, Ambrevina an' Axtel? They seem to have disappeared, too."

Jango did not seem unduly worried. "There's a pair that don't need any lookin' after. I pity any score o' vermin wot gets in their way, mate."

Skipper nodded agreement with his Guosim friend. "Right, matey. Ambry an' Axtel are two fearsome warriors. They'll come back if'n they feel like, but if they wants to wander an' travel, well, fortune be with 'em both, an' may the sun shine warm on their paws."

382

The gatehouse door opened. Big Bartij strode out, wielding a shovel. He was followed by Foremole Darbee, plus a procession of moles, all suitably geared out with picks, shovels, hoes and rakes. Darbee gave orders to his crew.

"Go ee an' foind summ wheelybarrows. They'm prol-libly bee's in ee h'orchard. Discuse oi, marm, us'ns gotten wurk t'be dunn!"

Marjoram shook her head in wonder. "I didn't know that many creatures could fit into our little gatehouse. Must've been quite a crush in there!"

Bartij tugged his headspikes respectfully. "Oh, it was, marm, but we're all about our tasks now. We're goin' to open the gates an' clear that pile o' rubble away. Then there's the lawns an' flower beds t'be set right an' proper agin. One thing me'n the Foremole can't abide is untidy Abbey grounds!" He strode off without awaiting a reply.

The Mother Abbess's smile lit up the summer morn. "Pvight, that's one problem we don't have to worry about! Shall we adjourn to the walltops and keep out of their way?"

Trajidia Witherspyk, who was already on the ramparts with Flib, sang out shrilly, "Ahoy, below, I see two creatures approaching from afar!"

After a moment's pause, Flib called, "It's Ambry an' Axtel. She's carryin' him on 'er shoulders."

Shortly thereafter, a Guosim crew went racing out to meet them. The shrews were carrying a stretcher, on which Axtel was placed, despite his protests. Flib commandeered the warrior's war hammer, granting herself the honour of carrying it back to the Abbey. Sister Fumbril met them at the south wallgate, shaking her head at the mole.

"Mister Axtel, sir, wot've I told ye about travellin' on a wounded footpaw? It'll never get better at this rate!"

Axtel Sturnclaw treated the Sister to one of his rare grins. "Oi'll take ee h'advice then, marm. Frum naow on, oi'll goo everywhere by stretcherer. These yurr shrewbeasts'll carry oi. B'aint that roight, mateys?"

383

A groan of despair arose from the Guosim bearers. Axtel was no small wispy beast.

Not expecting to find Diggs within the Abbey Buckler had organised a party of Redwallers to search the building. He was in the upper dormitories when he accidentally bumped into Clarinna. She was slipping out of the Infirmary with a bundle on her back. The young hare halted her progress.

"Good day t'ye, marm. Forgive me, but I didn't get time to thank you for savin' my life. It was a brave thing you did, slaying Zwilt."

She curtsied, trying to get past him. "I only did what I saw as my duty. You were the one that acted bravely. Now would you stand aside, please?"

Buckler stayed where he was, indicating the bundle. "Where are you going in such a hurry, and what's in there?"

He saw her jaw tighten. "I'm going to get my babes, Calla and Urfa. I know they're safe, but they've been gone for so long. They need me--please, let me go!"

Taking the bundle, he set it down. "But you haven't the faintest idea of where to go. You'll be lost before you get far. Listen, I've got to find Diggs, he's missing. But if I haven't found him by tonight, then tomorrow noon I'll take you to get the babes myself. Ambrevina will come with us. She knows exactly where she and Diggs left them. That's on my oath as a Long Patrol Warrior. Agreed?"

Clarinna nodded. "Agreed. Come on, I'll help you to search for Diggs."

Late afternoon shadows were lengthening when the Abbess went to the orchard. Friar Soogum was there, supervising the feast preparations.

"Mother Abbess, d'you think this'll do?"

Marjoram clapped her paws in delight. "Oh, Friar, it's perfect. What a feast this will be!"

The table linen was spread upon the orchard grass, with

384

pretty blossom arrangements decking the fruit trees. Lanterns hung, ready to be lit by evening. Casks of strawberry fizz, October Ale, dandelion and burdock cordial and jugs of mint tea or pennycloud brew were placed in the tree shade. Scones, tarts, pies and pasties were there in abundance, alongside trifles, broths, oven-baked breads and delicate almond wafers. The entire effect was magical or, to quote the Abbess, "the setting for an evening's delicious enchantment!" And it really was just that.

Glowing from their day's chores and tasks, everybeast trooped into the orchard. Early evening twilight was enhanced by lighted lanterns of pink, gold, blue and green, circled by fluttering moths of varied hue. Over excited Dibbuns were issued with beakers of strawberry fizz and warned to keep a modicum of silence whilst the Abbess said grace.

Decked out in her best pale-fawn habit, belted with a spotless white cord and sporting a small circlet of woodland flowers round her brow, Marjoram recited the special words, penned earlier that day by her friend Granvy.

"We meet in happiness this day, to celebrate our victory, not to boast of fighting ways, but just the joy of living free.

Oh, may that feeling never cease, for you, my true and honest friends, enjoy this feast, in love and peace, and hope our freedom never ends!"

A tiny squirrelbabe held up his beaker. "I drink to dat!"

Laughter echoed round the orchard as they fell to in earnest. Skipper blew on a bowl of his favourite freshwater shrimp 'n'hotroot soup, winking at Buckler. "D'ye think all this scoff might tempt ole Diggs out from wherever he's stowed hisself?"

The young hare picked up a slice of greengage tart.

385

"Well, if he doesn't, I'll wager he's at least three leagues away, the great lard barrel!"

Clarinna passed a long cheese'n'hazelnut roll to Ambrevina. "It was kind of you to say you'd accompany Buckler and me tomorrow. Thank you so much!"

The badgermaid accepted the offering with a nod. "I've seen your babes, marm, Calla and Urfa. Two charming little creatures. I can see why you wish dearly to be reunited with them. My pleasure!"

Baby Dubdub sprayed crumbs about as he spoke through a mouthful of honeyed scone. "My pleasure! My pleasure!"

Oakheart beamed over the rim of his October Ale tankard. "The babe's learnin', Dymphnia. Did y'hear that? A real actor in the makin', a true Witherspyk!"

His wife brushed crumbs from her apron, then wiped Dubdub's face with a corner of it. "Indeed, Oakie. I just wish he wouldn't practice his lines at mealtimes."

Jango speared a hunk of cheese with his blade. "I'll come along with ye on the morrow, Buck, just for a walk, chance to stretch me paws, eh!"

Flib was over her war shock now. She winked at Jango. "An' I'll toddle along with ya, Pa, t'make sure ye don't get into any trouble!"

Axtel had joined the molecrew in seeing off a huge cauldron of the mole's speciality, deeper'n'ever'turnip'-n'tater'n'beetroot pie. He held up a piece in his paw. "Oi'll goo with ee, zurr'n'marms. Thurr may bee's vurmints a-lurkin' in ee wuddlands. Oi'll give 'em ole billy oh!"

Marjoram put on a face of mock despair, managing a wail. "If any other beast volunteers to go, there'll only be me left behind here!"

Friar Soogum poured a tiny crystal goblet of elderberry wine. "Here, marm, drink this--you'll feel better. Don't fret, marm. I'll stay here with ye. I'll make a special liddle supper, just for me'n'you. We'll sit up in the belltower an' share it. Oh, an' more o' this fine wine, eh!"

386

Trajidia Witherspyk fluttered her eyelashes at the Friar. "I never said I was deserting this beautiful Abbey. Will you find room for a young un like me at your table, oh, kind and handsome Friar, sir?"

All those who heard Soogum mention the special supper suddenly expressed a fervent desire to remain at Redwall.

"Er, me, too, please, could I come?"

"Hurr, an' oi h'also. Oi carn't walk too furr wi' moi paws!"

"An' can I bring a few of the Dibbuns? They'd enjoy a treat, bless their liddle paws!"

'I'd like t'come, too, but only t'keep an eye on the babes!"

Marjoram waved her paws, miming alarm. "Stop, stop. We'll never get you all into one bell tower!"

In the softly lit orchard, the sound of woodlanders laughing drifted up to the starry night sky which had now cloaked Mossflower.

It was high noon of the following day. The sun hung like a burnished gold medallion in the cloudless sky. Abbess Marjoram was on the path outside the newly cleared west gate. Other Redwallers were with her to wish a hearty goodbye to the travelling party. Friar Soogum and his kitchen helpers fussed around the group, passing out haversacks of food and drink.

The good Friar's constant worry in life was that anybeast would not have enough to eat. He pressed a further package upon an already overloaded Clarinna. "Just some dainties, candied chestnuts an' crystallised fruits, for your little uns, marm. Oh, an' I slipped in two small flasks of best pear cider--babes always like that."

The Abbess was forced to intercede on behalf of those leaving the Abbey. "Friar, you've provisioned them handsomely, but that's quite enough now. Any more and they won't be able to move. Buckler, are you ready to go?"

Adjusting the shoulder straps of a huge haversack,

387

the young hare managed a quick salute. "Ready marm! Ambry Axtel, Jango, let's march!"

With Buckler and Clarinna following Ambrevina, and an escort of twenty Guosim backed up by Jango, Axtel and Flib, the column moved out, going south down the path. The remaining Redwallers cheered them on their journey.

Skipper shouted out, "Come on, Buck, mate, get 'em goin' with one o' yore Long Patrol marchin' songs!"

Buckler promptly obliged with an old parade-ground air, which could be speeded up or slowed down to accommodate the marchers. They soon picked up the rhythm, as it was not a difficult song.

"Y'place yore left footpaw in front o' yore right footpaw, then y'do it over'n over'n over again!

Remember, left right, left right, chin up high an' eyes bright, don't fret about the sun, the wind or rain.

Keep those ranks good an' straight, don't tread on yore matey's paws, or he might just turn around, kick yore tail an' tread on yores!

So place yore left footpaw, in front o' yore right footpaw, then do it over'n over'n over again!

Remember, left right, left right, never argue, never fight, keep goin' 'til you think you've gone insane!"

Axtel wound a spotted kerchief around his mouth.

"H'it bee's ruther dusty marchin' at ee back!"

Once they were out of sight from the Abbey, Ambrevina turned off into the woodland. Buckler shepherded them across the ditch, patting backs and mouthing words of encouragement.

"Well done, mates, a nice little walk so far, eh?"

388

Unused to his parade-ground pace, they were all quite breathless. Flib was heard to mutter, "Huh, a nice liddle walk fer you, y'great lankypaws!"

Buckler glared at the shrewmaid. "What was that, miss?"

Axtel, who had grown rather fond of Flib, placed a heavy digging claw on her shoulder. "She'm just sayin', zurr, that moi ole h'injured paw b'aint wurkin' vury gudd."

Buckler's attitude changed instantly. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, friend. Right, we'll rest an' take a spot o' lunch in the woodlands. Pass the word along, Jango."

It was pleasant, being off the dusty open path on such a hot summer's day. The wood of Mossflower provided lots of cool, green shade. Buckler chose a spot beneath an old crack willow on a tiny streambank. Everybeast sat with their footpaws in the muddy shallows as Clarinna distributed food.

Buckler winked at Jango as they watched their crew. "Just look at 'em. You'd think they'd been on a season-long slog. Have you ever seen anythin' like it?"

The Guosim Log a Log plumped down on the bank, squidging his footpaws into the mud. "Whaaaaaw! That's better. Pass me that ale flagon, Sniffy." He held out a paw, looking around. "Sniffy? Where's that beast got to--who's seen ole Sniffy?"

Ambrevina sighted the Tracker coming through some bushes.

Jango found the ale and took a swig. "Where've ye been, Sniff? Siddown an' git some lunch."

The Guosim Tracker beckoned to the east. "Just scoutin' o'er thataway, Chief. Beggin' yore pardon for disturbin' yore lunch, but there's somebeasts there."

Buckler was at his side, blade drawn. "Whatbeasts? Where?"

Sniffy went into his customary crouch, reentering the bushes. "Foller me an' I'll show ye."

Buckler went after the Tracker, with Jango, Flib and Am

389

brevina in his wake. Sniffy could mutter out of the side of his mouth quite well. He kept up a running commentary as Buckler caught up to his side.

"Don't know wot t'make of it, Chief. There I was, a-nosin' through the shrubbery, when I 'ears 'em. Voices, sounded like they was arguin', then they started laughin'. I never saw 'em, though, sounded like too many beasts fer me t'be spotted by. So back I comes to report to ye. Hah, afore I was outta earshot, I 'eard 'em singin'. Stop! 'Earken, mates, there they go agin! Can ye 'ear them, Chief?"

They halted suddenly. Jango and Ambrevina ran into their backs. The Guosim Log a Log almost got Sniffy in the rear with his drawn rapier. He whispered, "Aye aye, wot's the holdup?"

Buckler stifled him with a paw. "Listen!"

Somebeast was singing lustily, with shrill voices joining in discordantly.

"She's the sergeant major's daughter,

Miss Floosabia Grugsby Lee,

And anybeast who woos her gets a medal for bravery.

Her nose is blue, her eyes are red, she's got a laugh that'd wake the dead, an' I'm the one she's chose to wed.

Floosabia Grugsby Lee, please stay away from me!

Go to your left two three, now to the right two three,

'tis forward on the double, an' get me out of trouble, so I can run away to sea.

Far far away from ...

... Floosabia Grugsby Lee!"

Another voice complained to the singer, "Sure will ye give yore ould gob a rest. That's no song t'be singin' in front o' liddle uns!"

390

The singer gave a brusque reply. "One more peep out o' you, marm, an' you'll find your insolent self on a fizzer so fast your paws won't touch the bloomin' floor, wot wot!"

The motherly figure of Mumzy the water vole emerged from the shrubbery, giving as good as she got. "Arrah, go an' fizz yore tail, an' see if'n I care a jot!"

She was leading a long double file of young ones. They were bumbling along holding on to a rope, which kept them in an orderly line. The harebabes, Calla and Urfa, were walking quite well now, holding paws with Jiddle and Jinty Witherspyk. Midda and Tura brought up the rear. Mousebabe Diggla was strutting behind Diggs, who was patrolling the line. Diggla was first to spot Ambrevina standing in the bushes. He raced to her, squeaking, "Ambee! Ambeeeeeeee! It be me, Diggla!"

The badgermaid swept him up with one huge paw. "So it is! Diggla, my little friend, how are you?"

Diggs raised a hazel twig, which he was using as a swagger stick. "Column! Haaa ... alt! Stand easy an' be still now!" Marching briskly over to Buckler, he prodded him with the stick. "Hmm, I remember you, sah. Buckley, isn't it? Well, now, laddie buck, what are ye doin' in this neck o' the woods, eh, wot wot?"

Aware of Diggs's unfortunate identity crisis, Buckler came to attention, throwing up a smart salute. "Leadin' a patrol to escort you all back to Redwall Abbey, Colonel Crockley Sputherington, sah!"

Diggs looked thinner and paler than his former self. His head was still swathed in bandages, and his left ear was missing. Tapping his open paw with the cane, he nodded several times.

"Rather tardy of ye, Bucklow, but better late than never, eh? Not flippin' many for an escort. Got any more with ye?"

They trooped into the camp on the muddy streambank, whereupon, catching sight of her babes, Clarinna swept

391

both Calla and Urfa off their paws. Kissing and hugging them, she wept and laughed wildly.

Midda, who was being embraced by Jango and Flib, smiled at the sight of the harewife being reunited with her babes. "Well, ain't that a sight for sore eyes!"

Jango patted her back. "No more than you are, darlin'!"

With the babes still clinging to her, Clarinna launched herself upon Diggs, knocking him flat. "Oh, my wonderful friend, you kept your promise and restored these two sweet babes to their mother's paws! How can I ever thank you, gallant Subaltern Diggs?"

Her benefactor was horrified. "Restrain your blinkin' self, marm. Remove y'self an' these two little blighters from me before I'm drowned in slobberin' kisses. Unpaw me, I say!"

Extricating himself, Diggs stood up, brushing off his tunic. "Who in the name o' scuts'n'scallywags is this creature Diggs? Mistaken identity, I fear, marm. I'm Colonel Crockley Sputherington, I'll have ye know!"

Not wishing to upset his friend, Buckler played along. "Attention, everybeast. Allow me to introduce this brave officer. His name is Colonel Crockley Sputherington, an' I hope you'll all address him as such. Understood?"

The "colonel" bowed formally. "My thanks t'ye, Buckle-paw! Right, form up in order now. On my command, back to Redwall Abbey, quick march!"

Jango indicated the open food haversacks. "Ain't ye goin' to take a bite o' vittles afore ye go?"

Diggs walked a circle around the Log a Log, sizing him up. "An' who in the name o' blue blinkin' blazes are you, sah?"

Jango returned his stare. "I'm Jango Bigboat, Chieftain an' Log a Log o' the Guosim!"

Diggs viewed this statement with no evident surprise. "A shrew, eh? I thought so." He turned to Buckler, murmuring confidentially, "Greedy little blighters, shrews.

392

Get him back into line, Buckleton. We ain't wastin' time on scoff, wot!"

Without further ado, Diggs swaggered off at the head of the column. Jango scratched his beard in astonishment.

"Well, don't that sink the logboat? Ole greedy lardbucket Diggs refusin' vittles--I don't believe it!"

Mumzy sorted out some candied chestnuts to give the little ones on their march. "Ah, sure, pay no heed t'the beast friend. He's as mad as an ould boiled frog, but he means well."

The line of little ones holding on to the rope was still filing past Buckler, which caused him to remark, "There's about twoscore an' five young uns here, Mumzy. Where did they all come from?"

The water vole filled her apron pockets with tit bits. "Some found their way to my cave, an' the rest we found wanderin' round the woodlands. Orphans, their parents slaughtered by the Sable Quean's lot. I been gatherin' 'em in whenever I could. They were cryin' their eyes out, hungry an' lost. Sure, I couldn't leave 'em to fend for themselves, now, could I, sir?"

Buckler pressed her old paw affectionately. "You certainly couldn't, marm. Come on, let's go to Redwall Abbey. There's room for everyone there!"

393

32

Over the western flatlands, swallows flitted and swooped against a sky aflame with crimsoned evening glory. Slim narrow clouds, lilac and pearly grey, hemmed the far horizon. Redwall Abbey was bathed in soft rose light from eaves to gables. It was a sight which would be forever emblazoned in the memories of those young creatures seeing it for the first time.

The column trudged wearily along the path in a haze of fine dust sent up by their footpaws. Some of the babes, too exhausted to march, were carried on the backs and shoulders of their rescuers.

Trajidia Witherspyk, balancing on the southwest edge of the battlements, espied them first. She hallooed out in full dramatic style. "Hearken, one and all. I see them, I see them yonder!"

This set off the twin Abbey bells, booming out their message of home and safety for all.

The Abbey gates swung open as cheering creatures rushed down the path en masse to greet the travellers. Swaggering martially at the column's head, Diggs (alias Colonel Crockley Sputherington) bellowed out orders in fine parade-ground style. "Eyes front! Hold the line, back

394

there! Mind your dressing, watch your pace, keep in step! No breakin' off an' dismissin' 'til I give the command!" His words were suddenly lost as both sides met.

Dymphnia Witherspyk seized Jiddle and Jinty, squeezing them until they were gasping for breath. "Oh, my beautiful liddle hogs, I've not slept a wink since you've been gone. Oh, my dears, y'don't know what this does to a mother's heart!"

Diggs pushed roughly past the trio, trying to restore some order to the happy chaos. "By the left, right'n'centre, discipline's gone to flamin' pot. They're nought but a bloomin' rabble!"

Dymphnia gave him a hefty pat on the back, which nearly knocked him flat. She steadied him, gushing, "Oh, well done, Mister Diggs, well done!"

He stood quivering with rage from ear to scut. "Mister Diggs, marm? Confound Mister flippin' Diggs an' all his blinkin' ilk. D'ye know whom you're addressin'?" He strode off, waving his swagger stick, yelling, "Back in your ranks, you slab-sided puddle-pawed cads!"

Dymphnia was perplexed. She turned to Buckler. "What did I do? Did I say something wrong?"

The young hare drew her to one side as the jubilant crowd flooded through the gates into the Abbey grounds. "You'll have to forgive him, marm. It's that wound he took to the head. Thinks he's some otherbeast now, wants t'be called Colonel Crockley Sputherington."

Dymphnia allowed Jiddle and Jinty to run off and be reunited with the rest of their family. "Oh, dear, I never guessed that. I knew he'd been injured, but nobeast told me about Mister Diggs thinkin' he was some other creature. Ah, well, not to worry, Buck. I'll soon fix him."

She hurried off after her babes, not explaining how she could effect a cure for Diggs.

Fortunately, the orchard decorations had been left up, and thanks to the good efforts of Friar Soogum and his staff, a further feast was set up, waiting. When everybeast

395

was gathered there, Abbess Marjoram mounted an upturned wheelbarrow.

Skipper called the chattering, laughing crowd to order. "Ahoy, mates, silence one an' all for Marjoram, Mother Abbess of Redwall. Stow the gab an' quiet, please!"

Visibly moved by the sight of the freed captive young ones, Marjoram wiped a habit sleeve across her eyes and sniffed several times before starting her speech.

"Welcome to Redwall Abbey, my friends, both old and new! You are all free to live here in peace and safety. Please treat this place as your home for as long as you wish. Now, I won't waste a beautiful and happy summer's eve with lots of boring talk. I see you are hungry and tired. Sister Fumbril, Drull Hogwife and other helpers--not forgetting our new friend, Mumzy Water Vole--will tend to the babes. They will have fine new clothes, a dormitory with soft little beds and, who knows, maybe a good bath in our Abbey pond tomorrow. But for now I want you all to enjoy the feast. Eat, drink, sing, dance and be merry. And once more welcome, twice welcome and thrice welcome to Red-wall Abbey. Let the celebrations begin!"

Everybeast tucked in with a will. The appetite of the newly arrived young ones was so hearty that Friar Soogum stood wide-eyed.

"Goodness me, I'll have to get extra supplies from the kitchens if they carry on at this rate!"

Drull Hogwife shook her head in wonderment. "I thought those liddle uns was wearied out an' more'n ready to sleep. Good grief, lookit them eat!"

Tura lifted her smudged face from a bowl of blackberry sponge in arrowroot sauce. "Beggin' y'pardon, marm, but if'n you'd never seen vittles like this, wot'd you sooner do, eat or sleep?"

Smiling at the squirrelmaid's logic, Skipper filled himself a bowl of his favourite shrimp'n'hotroot soup. "Well said, missy, they can always sleep later. Ahoy, Colonel, d'ye want to try a bowlful o' this?"

396

Diggs had not touched food thus far. He had been wandering about the orchard, chunnering to himself. Curling a lip at the Otter Chieftain, he snapped, "Doesn't anybeast think of anythin' but stuffin' one's flippin' face? A disgustin' exhibition, sah! Those young uns should be abed now, catchin' up on their shuteye, wot, wot? Well, alls I can say is that they'd better be up bright'n'early on the morrow. Ho, yes, I want t'see them all on parade, ready for a long route march! I'll lick 'em into shape, sah, see if I don't!"

Cellarmole Gurjee objected strongly. "You'mTl do nuthin' of ee sort, zurr. They'm likkle uns needs carin' furr!"

Dymphnia Witherspyk did not seem in agreement with Gurjee. "Oh, tut tut, sir. I'm sure a good long march'll do the babes a power o' good. Ain't that right, Oakie?"

Putting aside a hefty fruitcake, Oakheart nodded. "Quite right, m'dear! Oh, Colonel, might I have a private word with ye, a whisper in your good ear, sir?"

The Colonel strutted over to where Oakheart was sitting. Leaning down, he bent his unbandaged ear at the florid hog. "Whisper on, sah. What d'ye jolly well want?"

With a chunk of the cake clutched in one paw, Oakheart swung out, catching the hare a stunning blow to the back of his head. Colonel Crockley Sputherington fell to the grass, knocked out cold.

There was an immediate uproar. Buckler ran at Oakheart, his paws clenched. "What'n the name o' blood'n'vinegar did y'do that for?"

Trajidia wailed, "Oh, Father, what a cowardly thing to do, striking down a poor beast in such a sly manner!"

Oakheart merely grinned, consulting his wife's opinion. "How was that, m'dear? Did I do it right?"

Dymphnia clutched his fruitcake-filled paw. "Couldn't have done it better myself, Oakie. You hit him right on the button, just as I did to you, darling!"

The Abbess hurried forward with a pail of cold water and a cloth. "Will somebeast pray tell me what's going on?"

397

Dymphnia obliged willingly. "My Oakie once struck his head on the tiller of our raft, knocked himself clean out. When he came to, he thought he was an owl. Egbert Whootfellow, we had to call him. We put up with him for six days, sitting perched on top of the mast making owl noises. In the end, I could stand it no longer. So, I climbed the mast when he was asleep one night and shoved him off. He wasn't really an owl, you see, couldn't fly. Fell to the deck headfirst, knocked out again. Would you believe it, when he came around again he was Oakheart Witherspyk once more. I think it was the second knock to his head that cured him."

Abbess Marjoram rolled up her habit sleeves. "Right, let's see, shall we?"

Whoosh! She emptied the bucket of cold water over the head of the senseless hare. He sat up groaning. Wiping water from his eyes, he swiftly viewed the splendid feast, then launched into a tirade.

"Yah, you rotten bunch o' cads, helpin' your bally selves to all this bloomin' tuck while I was asleep! I hope your scringey tails wither an' drop off!"

Buckler threw a paw about his friend. "Diggs, is it really you?"

Wrenching himself loose, his companion began heaping a plate with all he could lay his paws on. "Of course it's me, ye great blitherin' oaf! Who did ye think it was, a duck with a top hat on? Call y'selves friends, wot! Rotten, the whole bunch of you are, lowly bounders'n'cads. What a slimy trick t'pull on a starvin' young subaltern. I'll never speak to you again, never! Specially you, Buck Kordyne!"

Without warning, his mood changed. He smiled. "I say, that summer salad looks jolly nice. Mind passin' me a goodly portion, Buck old lad, wot?"

Everybeast laughed, cheering at the transformation. Diggs was Diggs once again, gluttonous as ever.

The feast continued until dawnlight, when lots of young ones fell fast asleep where they sat, bowls and spoons still

398

in paw. Mumzy, Sister Fumbril and other dedicated helpers began carrying the babes off to their dormitories. Ambrevina wandered by, laden with four young creatures. She nodded to Buckler. "I think Clarinna would like a word with you. She's over in Great Hall."

Dawn rays were shafting through the tall windows, tinted by the stained glass. Buckler found Clarinna sitting by the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. He sat down beside her.

"Are Calla and Urfa both asleep now?"

Clarinna nodded upward. "Tucked up in the dormitory, bless them. Here, Buckler, these are for you." She placed the great broadsword and the coin medallion in front of him. Buckler sat staring at them awhile, then pushed them back to her.

"These are my poor brother Clerun's birthright. By family tradition, they belong to Calla, his eldest son."

Clarinna shook her head. "I and my little ones won't be returning to Salamandastron. It's my wish that they grow up here, with me at Redwall Abbey. I don't want to see them being raised under a Badger Lord, joining the Long Patrol and learning warriors' ways of war, regiments and weapons. Redwall is a place of peace, gentleness and wisdom."

She hung the medallion around Buckler's neck. "You must wear this. You have always been the true Blademaster. Clerun was a farmer at heart."

Buckler touched the bright gold emblem. "But it was you who slew Zwilt the Shade. You were the brave one, Clarinna."

She pointed to the figure of Martin the Warrior. "No, it was he who did it, really. Martin bade me to take his sword. After that, I remember nothing, only seeing the sable lying dead in front of me. I think Martin would not allow that evil beast to murder a babe in his Abbey. Nor would he see a bravebeast like you sacrifice his life to save that babe."

Buckler picked up the broadsword. "Martin was very

399

wise. He knew Zwilt would have killed us all if he had gotten the chance. I'll wear the medal, Clarinna. But what of this sword? It's not a weapon that I'm suited to. I have my own long rapier, which Lord Brang forged for me."

The hare mother stared at the blade with something like loathing in her eyes. "I'll have no more to do with that thing. As far as I'm concerned, you can throw it in the sea!"

Buckler patted her paw understandingly. "Leave it to me, Clarinna. I know the very beast it will suit. A broadsword forged at Salamandastron by a mighty Badger Lord is far too precious to throw away." Wearing the medallion and shouldering the hefty blade, Buckler strode from Great Hall, out into the sunlight of a new summer day.

Soft autumn mist lay in the hollows and vales of the dune-lands by the far west coast. It would be fully midmorn before the sun's warmth evaporated it. A young hare, Win-dora Rowanbough of the Long Patrol, stood atop a high hill. Leaning on her slender javelin, she peered intently at a distant dunetop. Having ascertained what her keen eyes could see, she wheeled, shooting off like a shaft from a bowstring in the direction of Salamandastron.

Windora was a Runner, the swiftest and best on the mountain. She was poetry and grace in motion, limbs moving like silent pistons, ears blown flat back by her remarkable speed.

Lord Brang was at his anvil, putting the final touches to a helmet. It was a work of great beauty, a polished steel dome with a bright copper spike at its centre. A curtain of fine steel mesh, both functional and simple, hung halfway around it, protection for a warrior's neck and upper shoulders. The huge badger polished away at the helmet with a piece of greased silk, making it shine in the forgelight.

General Flurry Flackbuth entered, giving a small cough to make Brang aware of his presence. The Badger Lord did not even look up.

400

"Don't you bother to knock anymore, Flurry?"

The old bewhiskered hare shook his head. "Beggin' y'pardon, m'Lud, I knocked twice!"

Brang placed the helmet carefully on the windowsill. "Didn't hear ye, my friend. I must be gettin' old."

Flurry replied almost apologetically, "We're none of us gettin' any bally younger, sah. You were busy, let's say, er, occupied with your work, eh?"

Brang filled two tankards from an ale cask. Taking a red-hot dagger blade from the forge fire, he quenched it in the tankards, passing one to his friend.

"Mulled ale. Always makes the morning a little more bearable. Well, then, General, what news?"

Flurry savoured a sip of his drink, standing with his back to the forge fire. "Young Runner Rowanbough just reported in, sah. Seems there's three bodies approachin' here from the east."

The Badger Lord looked over his tankard rim, speaking as though he were talking to himself. "Two of our own, and a long-overdue badgermaid. My dreams were right, Flurry. Send out a score of our Long Patrol in full fig to meet them. Bring all three right here to me."

The autumn mist had died to milky wisps as the three travellers halted on the hilltop, where the haremaid had stood earlier.

Buckler drew his rapier, pointing at the great mountain on the coastline. "Well, there it is, Ambry. Salamandastron!"

The badgermaid stared at it for a long moment. "Incredible! It's exactly as I used to see it in my dreams. Can you believe that?"

Diggs twirled his sling idly. "Don't see why not, marm. You're a bloomin' badger, aren't ye? Who are we to question your flippin' visions an' whatnot, wot!"

Ambrevina's paw strayed to the hilt of her broad

401

sword. "Look--we've got company approaching, maybe twoscore."

Diggs set off downhill, calling back, "That'll be the jolly old reception committee, wot. All good friends an' stout comrades. Huh, I bet they didn't think to bring a measly plum pudden to welcome returnin' heroes, famine-faced bounders. Hah, look who's leadin' the parade, old Flackers! An' there's Skinny Swippton, Algie Bloggmort, Tubby Ma-grool an' Lancejack Cudderfauld. All in their best number ones, just to meet Sub Digglethwaite, wot! I don't know whether t'feel flattered or battered. Hi, there, you chaps!"

The escort kept pace with General Flurry, who was limping slightly, favouring a gouty footpaw. Then he halted, awaiting the arrival of the trio, exchanging the customary salute with Buckler.

"Blademaster Kordyne, welcome back."

Keeping his eyes to the front, the young hare replied, "Thankee, General, sah. Afraid we haven't had the chance to spruce up appearances, sah!"

Flurry noted their travel-stained tunics and dusty appearance in contrast to his escort's smart turnout.

"Hmmph! No matter, laddie buck, no matter. Er, Subaltern Diggs, can't ye do anythin' about that left ear? It's floppin' about like a flag in a breeze, wot!"

Diggs managed a stiff heroic grin as he explained, "Oh, that, sah. 'Fraid I can't. Lost the ear in battle, doncha know. Only left me with one dainty shell like, see?"

He unfastened the chinstrap, holding the false ear out for inspection. "Charmin' old hedgehog named Crumfiss Witherspyk knitted this for me. Rather fetchin', ain't it, sah? Flops about in the wind a bit, but it looks jolly well like the real thing from a distance, wot wot!"

He slipped the chinstrap back on, adjusting the ear to a rakish angle. This brought many admiring remarks from the young hares, to whom there was nought like a real battle-scarred warrior.

402

"I say, top hole, Diggs. That's really the duck's nightie!"

"Rather. I love the way it sort of flops halfway!"

"Didn't you get anythin' chopped off, Buck? Bet you wish you had. Old Diggs looks absolutely dashin', wot!"

"You could win all kinds of wagers in the mess with an ear like that, old lad. Chaps'd give you all their pudden ration just to try it on!"

General Flurry cut sternly through the banter. "Silence in the ranks, there!" He saluted Ambrevina courteously. "My 'pologies, Milady, ignore these young rips. Lord Brang awaits you in his quarters, soon as possible."

The badgermaid gave him a brief, gracious nod. "Thank you, General. Please, lead on!"

There were banners staked out along the beach and an honour guard of Long Patrollers leading up to the fortress entrance. The Regimental Band, complete with fifes and drums, belted out a brave marching air named "Hares in the Heather." Resplendent in burnished armour and a magnificent cloak of carmine velvet, Lord Brang emerged to greet the trio.

Standing either side of the badgermaid, Buckler and Diggs saluted. Brang acknowledged them with a nod. He stood facing Ambrevina, who though not having the Badger Lord's powerful bulk, was taller than him by a half head. The music halted.

Brang held forth his paw, treating the new guest to one of his rare smiles. "Lady, I am Lord Brang Forgefire, Ruler of Salamandastron. Your presence here gives me great pleasure. Welcome!"

The badgermaid accepted the outstretched paw graciously. "I am called Ambrevina Rockflash, from the far Eastern Shores, Sire. I deem it an honour to be here."

With Ambrevina's paw resting upon his, Lord Brang turned, leading the procession into the mountain. The

403

band began playing a stately measured piece, entitled "Heart o' the Western Shores."

General Flurry whispered to Buckler, "Lordship wants to see all three of ye up in his Forge Chamber before the feast."

Diggs's eyes lit up. "Oh, I say, a jolly old feast, wot! You go on ahead with Ambry, Buck. I'm not much flippin' good at reportin' back. I'll stop down here with the chaps!"

General Flurry's moustache tickled Diggs's good ear as the old officer murmured threateningly, "You'll do no such thing, sah. Go on, straight up to the Forge Chamber with ye!"

Diggs groaned and carried on upstairs, managing to twitch his good ear savagely at one of his regimental comrades. "Beware, Tubby Magrool. Touch a single festive crumb before I get back, an' I'll box your fat head!"

The mist had cleared now, leaving a fine autumn day. From the broad, low window of the upper chamber, the mighty sea was smooth as a millpond right out to the hazy western horizon.

They sat on a cushion-strewn ledge, savouring the rosehip and almond-blossom cordial which Flurry served liberally. The Badger Lord could not take his gaze away from Ambrevina.

"You carry the name Rockflash. I knew one or two of them in my young seasons. They were experts at wielding slings."

Ambrevina produced her own sling, a big, formidable thing. "Aye, Lord, I can use one. I was brought up amongst kin whose only weapons were slings."

Brang indicated the broadsword she wore. "Yet you carry a blade, one I made at that forge yonder. I recognise it as belonging to the Kordyne clan. How so?"

Buckler interrupted to explain. "My brother Clerun was slain by a sable beast, Zwilt the Shade, and his vermin killers.

404

I'll mention all that in my report, Sire. But his wife, Clarinna, gave me the sword and this medal, of which you know. She lives at Redwall now, with her twin babes. They wish to be peaceful creatures, so she gave me the sword. I have my own blade, so I thought Lady Ambrevina could use it."

Brang nodded. "And can you use it, Lady?"

The badgermaid smiled. "I am learning, Lord, and what better teacher do I need than Blademaster Kordyne?"

Buckler flushed to his eartips, remarking, "She doesn't really need a sword, being so brilliant with a sling, Lord. Perhaps she could instruct you in the slinger's art, Sire?"

Brang took the sling, weighing its balance. "Perhaps she could. I'd enjoy that!"

Diggs blanched as his stomach growled aloud. "Not as much as I'd enjoy a flippin' feast!"

Brang's reproving eye fixed upon the tubby subaltern. "What was that--I beg your pardon?"

Diggs giggled foolishly. "No need t'beg my pardon, Sire. 'Twas my tummy makin' all that commotion. Er, I, er, was just sayin' how jolly spiffin' it is t'be back home, eh, wot wot?"

The Badger Lord's eyes softened indulgently. "Aye, I suppose it is good to be back home, and talking about that, I hope you'll treat this as your home, Lady?"

Ambrevina curtsied lithely. "I would be delighted to call Salamandastron home, Sire! I've seen this mountain many times in my dreams."

Brang nodded. "I know you have, and I've dreamed of having you here. When one gets old, the young must take their place. Salamandastron would be safe in your paws, Ambrevina. General Flurry and I will one day pass all this over to you. I think my mountain would flourish under your rule. Though you will have much to learn. Maybe you need a General Buckler Kordyne at your side?"

Buckler shook his head. "You know how I feel about such things, Sire. I'm well content with being a Blademaster, if that's alright with Lady Ambrevina?"

405

The badgermaid paused a moment before replying, "Of course, Buck. I know I could always count on you if I needed to. That is, providing I could have a faithful assistant, a Colonel Diggs maybe?"

General Flurry huffed through his mustachios, " Ton me scut, marm, that young blighter an officer! What would he know about bein' a confounded colonel?"

Ambrevina could not resist chuckling. "Oh, he's had previous experience, eh, Buck?"

Buckler stifled a laugh. "Aye, marm, that he has!"

Lord Brang looked from one to the other. "I think you'd best make your reports. You first, Diggs!"

The homecoming feast lasted a full three days, with little letup. The amount of food and drink a regiment of hares got through was truly legendary. Ambrevina sat between Lord Brang and Buckler. She enjoyed every moment of it, even the bawdy barrack-room ballads--she joined in as she learned the choruses.

All the young hares voted her tremendously popular, especially after she gave an exhibition of slinging out on the beach. They were filled with awe at the distance and accuracy of the badgermaid's throwing. Diggs had the company in peals of laughter, wearing the false ear in various positions: under his chin as a beard, or across his nose as a moustache, when he performed a hilarious imitation of General Flurry.

Lord Brang and Buckler took a break from the festivities on the third afternoon. Away from the hurly-burly, they sat on a sun-warmed rock just above the tideline. The Badger Lord stared out at the placid sea gently lapping golden sand as it ebbed westward. Brang sighed.

"You know, Buck, I wish you'd reconsider that post as a senior officer. Lady Ambrevina would welcome a fine brain such as yours when she takes over from me."

Buckler tossed a pebble at the receding tide. "I didn't say I wouldn't help her, sir. I'd give my life in her service,

406

she knows that. But this thing about bein' a general, well, that's not really my style."

The big old badger chuckled. "In some ways you never change, just like your grandsire, a true Kordyne warrior. Though, listening to the report of your mission, I can see that you've altered greatly in other things. Experience, that's what you've gained, Buck."

The young hare picked up some sand, then let it sift through his paw. "Aye, I've seen a few things and learned a bit. Travelling with a companion like good old Diggs, friends such as the Witherspyks and the Guosim. Discovering the wonders of Redwall Abbey and its honest creatures. Huh, even meeting my first Bloodwrath mole, Axtel. Losing my brother Clerun, seeing his two little babes, knowing what it means t'be an uncle. Freeing the young uns, battling with the Ravagers, watching friend and foe alike slain. You don't live through those things without addin' to your knowledge of life, sir. Thanks to you, who sent me off that day. It seems so long ago now."

They sat in silence a moment, then Buckler arose. "Beg-gin' y'pardon, Lord, but I've got to go. It's time for the Lady Ambrevina's fencing lesson."

Brang nodded, drawing a parchment from his cloak pocket. "Of course, off y'go, now. I'll read this letter you brought from my friend Marjoram."

Buckler saluted and trotted off. The Badger Lord watched him draw his long rapier as he went, ready to begin the lesson. Before he unrolled the parchment, he called after the young hare, "Before you go, d'you remember what I told you about travelling?"

Buckler turned in a swirl of sand, shouting his reply, "Indeed I do, Sire. You said travelling was an adventure--an' it was, too. A real adventure!"

Bounding up onto a rock, Buckler twirled his blade on high. With all the joy and vigour of his growing seasons, he roared the Long Patrol battle cry.

"Euuuulaliiiiaaaaa!"

407

Epilogue

Herein is the contents of a letter sent by Abbess Marjoram to Lord Brang.

To Lord Brang Forgefire, Ruler of Salamandastron and Lord of the Western Shores

From Marjoram, Mother Abbess of Redwall Abbey

Dearest friend,

I send you heartfelt greetings and best wishes for your continued good health. My thanks for the gift of the beautifully crafted bellropes. I am sure they will help to toll our Abbey bells for untold seasons to come. I hope you are pleased with the enchanting young badger Ambrevina. Her presence will grace your mountain, and I am certain that one day she will become a worthy successor to you.

It is a delight for us to have two young hares with us. Only last afternoon, I took tea in the orchard with their mother, Clarinna. What a remarkable creature she is, having started a gardening and nature study class for our Dibbuns. Calla and Urfa are dear little babes. They will grow into fine leverets.

What brave and courageous hares you have at Salaman

407

408

dastron! Buckler and Diggs are a credit to your Long Patrol. I was sorry as were a lot of others, to see them leave us. Our population at the Abbey has swelled somewhat, since now we have Axtel Sturnclaw, Mumzy Water Vole and the entire Witherspyk Company staying with us permanently. Come one, come all, as long as they are good and honest beasts, that's what I've always said. We are blessed by the seasons, happy to live amidst peace and plenty and strengthened by growing numbers of friends. What more could one ask?

Log a Log Jango sends you his good wishes. I think you and he have met before.

My chief desire would be to gaze from Redwall's west battlements one morn and see you marching at the head of your gallant Long Patrol, roaring out a stout marching song as you come to visit us. Do you think this would be possible? Next summer would be nice. We would love to have you all here with us. Friar Soogum has promised a feast that will go down in the Annals of Redwall. I myself will toll the bells specially for you.

Brang, old friend, I know you will honour us with your presence. You and any other one who is honest and true will find joy, happiness and peace at my Abbey. Redwall will always be here with a welcome for all.

Marjoram, Mother Abbess of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower Country

408