‘Gingivere, do you remember me? I’m Martin the Warrior. When I was taken prisoner you were the only one who tried to help me. I’ve not forgotten that, even though we’re on opposite sides. I’ve got to go now, but if there’s a way that I can help you when I’m free, then I will.’
Gingivere’s voice reached Martin. He sounded weak and despairing. ‘Save yourself, Martin. Get far away from this place and my sister.’
Gonff pulled Martin away, calling as he went, ‘I’m Gonff, the Prince of Mousethieves. We’ve got to go now, but if you’ve helped my friend then I’ll try and help you someday.’
As they hurried along the corridor Gingivere’s voice echoed behind. ‘Thank you. Good fortune go with both of you friends.’
They reached the end of the passage and mounted the stairs. Gonff was panting slightly, so Martin waited while he regained his breath. The stairs were built in a spiral. At the top was a wooden door. Gonff held up a paw for silence as he eased it open. It was all clear. They stepped out into a broad hallway which stretched away to the left and right of them.
Martin scratched his head. ‘Which way? Left or right?’
Gonff placed his slim blade on the floor and spun it. They stood watching until it stopped. ‘Left. Come on, matey.’
Continuing down the hallway, they saw a high window with the morning sunlight streaming through onto the top of a flat wide stairway. Gonff groaned. ‘Oh no, we’re late. We’ve mistimed it because of that dark cell. Ah well, if we hurry they may still be waiting outside for us. Which way now?’
As the steps took a turn they were in a smaller hall with a door at either end. The sound of Tsarmina’s voice could be heard. They froze. ‘If one word of this ever gets out, just one, you vixen and you Ashleg, I’ll see you both hanged in chains over a roasting pit. The army will only follow the rightful leader, and now that my brother is in the cells, that’s me. I am Queen of the Thousand Eyes. I rule Kotir and Mossflower.’
The escapers backed down onto the stairway they had just ascended, the echoes of Tsarmina’s voice all around them as they ran round the turn of the steps.
Martin and Gonff crashed straight into Tsarmina, Ashleg and Fortunata, who had unknowingly been walking up the stairs behind them!
In the shrubs and small trees that bordered the woodland edge of Kotir the otters and squirrels lay low. It was full bright morning, long past the dawn. Birds were singing. The sun beamed over bright greenery dotted with daphne, spurge laurel and late winter jasmine.
Unconscious to the beauty around him, Skipper lay whispering to Amber. ‘We can’t hang the anchor round here much longer, marm.’
Amber stared at Kotir’s gloomy walls. ‘You’re right, Skip. We could be spotted in broad daylight from those walls quite easily. Where in the name of the fur has that little thief got to?’
‘We can only give him a little longer,’ Skipper shrugged resignedly. ‘Then we’ll have to push off and try another day.’
A young dark-coloured otter came wriggling through the grass on his stomach and saluted them. ‘Huh, you’re never goin’ to believe this, Skip, but there’s a whole fleet of mice dressed in funny-lookin’ robes comin’ this way through the woods. Never seen ought like it in all me born days.’
Skipper and Amber looked quizzically at the scout. ‘Where?’
‘Sort of circling from the south. Look, there!’
Sure enough, he had spoken truly. Through the trees a band of mice were marching, all dressed in green-brown robes, complete with cowls and rope ties about the middle.
Amber shook her head in amazement. She signalled a squirrel in a nearby tree. ‘Quickly, take this otter with you. Get over and tell that bunch of ninnies to get down flat. Don’t they know where they are?’
Before the pair dashed off, Skipper spoke. ‘Stay with ’em. Soon as it’s safe, take ’em in tow. Go to Brockhall – that should be large enough. Get in touch with Bella, and tell her about them. Say that me and Lady Amber will be in touch afore nightfall. Off y’go.’
Amber watched them bound away, ducking and weaving. Beside the army of Kotir, there was always Argulor to watch out for. She turned to Skipper. ‘What a prize bunch of boobies! Imagine parading round Kotir in broad daylight. Where d’you suppose they’ve come from?’
The otter snorted. ‘Search me. Bella will probably know as she’s done a fair bit of roaming in her time. Huh, talkin’ of time, I think it’s nearly run out for young Gonff if he doesn’t show himself soon.’
Even at this early morning hour the warmth from the sun had lulled old Argulor into a drowsy sleep. The eagle perched high in a spruce, partially leaning against the trunk. In his sleep he groaned pleasurably, ruffling his plumage slightly to let the glorious warmth seep through to his ancient flesh and cold bones. If only there was a place that had no cold winter or damp windy autumn, just eternal spring followed by summer.
Life passed Argulor by as he slept the day through on his perch. It passed by more importantly in the forms of an otter and a squirrel leading a band of robed mice directly beneath the very tree where he slumbered.
It would have been hard to tell who was more surprised, the escaping prisoners or the wildcat and her minions.
Immediately they collided, Tsarmina gave a yowl of rage and more by luck than judgement seized Gonff’s leg. This was followed by a more anguished yowl as Martin whipped the blade from Gonff’s belt and stabbed Tsarmina sharply in the paw, forcing her to release his friend.
‘Follow me!’ Martin grabbed Gonff and ran back up the stairs, giving Fortunata a good slash across the rump with the blade as he went. The vixen collided with Ashleg, and they fell in a jumble. Tsarmina tripped over them. She struggled to extricate herself, screaming curses and raking the unlucky pair with her claws.
‘Blockheads, idiots, out of my way.’
Martin and Gonff dashed headlong down the hall. Taking the door to the right, they dived inside, slamming it shut behind them.
It was the late Lord Greeneyes’ bedchamber. With the shouts of their pursuers ringing closer the escapers scuttled for cover beneath the large canopied bed.
‘We can’t stay here long!’ Martin panted as he felt about in the darkness and found Gonff’s paw.
‘Don’t worry, matey. Get ready to make a bolt when I shout.’
There was no further opportunity for conversation, as the door banged open. Tsarmina pushed her creatures before her and closed the door. She was licking her wounded paw. Fortunata, who had suffered a loss of dignity, tried not to rub at her wounded rump. Ashleg stumped about, trying to sound helpful.
‘At least we know we’ve got them cornered in here somewhere.’
‘Somewhere,’ echoed Fortunata. ‘But where?’
Tsarmina lowered her voice as she called the other two close. ‘We don’t know how much those mice overheard. They must not leave this room alive. Let us search every corner thoroughly.’
Stretched out flat beneath the bed, Martin could see the paws of their pursuers. He watched as they dispersed in separate directions, then turned toward Gonff.
In the name of mice! That little thief was the absolute limit. Gonff had actually closed his eyes and appeared to be napping. Martin prodded him urgently. The three hunters were getting closer to the bed as other hiding places were discounted.
‘Ashleg, have you checked those wall hangings properly?’
‘Yes, Milady. Maybe they’re up on top of the bed canopy.’
The pine marten was actually leaning against the side of the bed now. Gonff patted Martin reassuringly as he wriggled silently past him. The warrior mouse could only watch in dumb suspense as his daring little friend went to work.
Gonff carefully pulled the end of Ashleg’s long cloak beneath the bed, slitted it expertly with his blade and crawled a short way toward the bedhead, where a tall, heavy folding screen stood to one side. Working quickly, he tied the slit ends of the unsuspecting marten’s cloak around one leg of the screen.
Gonff did th
ree things almost in one movement. He pricked Ashleg’s good paw viciously with his blade, grabbed Martin and shot from beneath the bed, roaring as they went.
‘There they go! Stop ’em!’
Pandemonium ensued. Ashleg screamed and lurched forward. The heavy screen went with him; it tottered and fell. Tsarmina managed to leap out of the way, but the vixen was not so lucky, she was struck by the screen. Half-stunned, she pushed it away. The cumbersome screen toppled sideways into the fireplace, falling directly into the grate, which held the embers of a previous night’s fire. In a trice the room was a thick choking mess of ashes, cinders, dust and smouldering embers.
Martin and Gonff pushed the door open. Two weasel guards who had heard the noise in passing came thundering into the room as Martin and Gonff hurried past them out into the hall. Behind them the shouts reached a crescendo as unprotected paws came in contact with a floor strewn with red-hot embers.
This time Martin took the lead as they went straight down the hall and through the door at the opposite end.
They found themselves in an upper messroom full of soldiers, stoats, ferrets and weasels, all eating breakfast at a long trestle table with a window at one end. Taken completely by surprise, the soldiers sat gaping at the two fugitives.
‘Stop those mice! Kill them!’ Tsarmina’s enraged shouts reached them as she ran toward the mess.
Gonff sized up the situation at a glance: the unexpected was called for. Without a second thought he pulled Martin with him. They ran across the room, bounded from a vacant seat up onto the tabletop and dashed madly along it, scattering food, drink and vessels everywhere as they went. Together the thief and the warrior leapt through the open window into empty space with a loud defiant shout.
‘Yaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!’
Skipper and Amber both heard the cry.
So did Argulor.
It came from the north side of Kotir, not far from where the woodlander squirrel scout stood perched in a tree. He bounded down and made his report to Amber. ‘It’s Gonff, but there’s another mouse with him. They jumped from the upper barracks window.’
‘We’d better get round there. Are they hurt?’
‘No, but talk about lucky, they landed right in the foliage of a big old yew growing on that side.’
Amber leaped up. ‘Get Beech and the others. We’ll have to get them out of there double quick. Skipper, you bring the crew and give us cover.’
Argulor launched himself from his spruce, flapping ponderously. Once he was airborne his natural grace and ability took over. Circling to gain height, he squinted over to where the sounds had come from. The yew’s upper foliage was shaking. The eagle soared downward to see if it was anything edible.
Inside the messroom, Tsarmina laid about herself with a sturdy wooden ladle. ‘Don’t stand gawping, you dimwitted toads! Someone get out there and capture them!’
There was an immediate stampede to grab weapons and buckle armour on. Nobody seemed disposed to leap out of the window, though they all tried to look as if they were helping in some way.
Tsarmina flailed the ladle about in a fury. Suddenly a bright young stoat, more reckless than his comrades, saw a chance to distinguish himself in the eyes of his mistress. He bounded up onto the table.
‘Leave it to me, Milady. I’ll stop them.’ Striking a gallant pose, the stoat ran to the window ledge and stood nerving himself for the leap.
Argulor soared low, close to the yew. His rheumy eyes could not distinguish much between the crisscross branches. He was about to abandon hope of a quick meal and turning away on his huge wing span, when suddenly a fat juicy stoat with an expression of heroic duty upon its face jumped out into midair, straight into the talons of the wheeling eagle.
Argulor gave a screech of delight, which contrasted jarringly with the stoat’s ragged squeal of dismay. The old eagle flapped joyfully off to his spruce branch with the tasty burden.
Gonff wiped perspiration from his whiskers. ‘In the name of mice and crab apples, that big feller nearly had us there, matey!’
Martin pointed to the open window. ‘It’s not over yet. Look!’
Tsarmina stood glaring at them. The mess was crowded with frightened creatures, none of whom would venture near the window.
Ashleg shuddered and clutched at his clammy fur. ‘Did you see those claws, ugh, the size of its beak!’
Tsarmina swung him round by his cloak. ‘Shut your blathering face and get me my bow and arrows. Just look at that for a prize piece of impudence.’
Gonff was pulling faces at the wildcat Queen. He blew out his cheeks, stuck a paw to his nose and rolled his eyes in the most ridiculous manner.
Tsarmina snatched up a spear and flung it, but the weapon was deflected by the close-knit yew branches. A well-aimed arrow would do the trick, she thought. ‘Where’s that dithering woodenleg with my bow and arrows?’
Eight sturdy red squirrels came bounding through the yew branches as easily as walking a paved path. They split into two groups of four, each taking charge of the two escapers.
Lady Amber came swinging in. She spoke sternly to Gonff. ‘Now none of your shenanigans, young thief. You, whoever you are, just relax and leave the rest to us. You’re in safe paws.’
Before he could say a word, Martin was seized by paws and tail. He felt himself tossed about like a shuttlecock. Never in his life had he descended from a height so swiftly, or with such ease; it was like being a flower petal on a gentle breeze. In a trice he and Gonff were on firm ground.
A horde of armed soldiers poured out of Kotir. Martin sought about for a weapon, anything to defend himself with. There was a whirring sound, and the first four soldiers running forward seemed to relax, lying down upon the grass as if they were taking a nap. Two more went down. Martin saw a line of otters swinging slings; they were hurling large river pebbles with deadly accuracy.
A big burly otter came running to them. Gonff clasped his strong tattooed paws. ‘Skipper, I knew me old messmate wouldn’t leave his favourite thief in the lurch. Oh, by the way, this is Martin the Warrior. He’s my friend, y’know.’
Skipper signalled his crew to retreat, waving to Lady Amber as he fitted another stone to his slingshot. ‘Ha, welcome aboard, Martin. Though how an honest fellow like you came to be mixed up with this little buccaneer, I don’t know.’
Skipper introduced Martin to Lady Amber, who said rapidly, glancing anxiously about her, ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure, Martin. Skipper, I don’t like this, they’re planning something. . . .’
As Amber spoke, a horde of soldiers bearing Thousand Eye shields came streaming out of the main door with Tsarmina leading them. There were far too many to contend with.
Amber muttered to Skipper, ‘Take Martin and Gonff. Break and run for it. We’ll cover you.’
Tsarmina was furious. She guessed what was happening: the squirrels were taking a stand while the otters slipped off into Mossflower with the fugitives. She issued orders to a ferret Captain named Raker. ‘Stop here with a platoon and face the squirrels. I’ll take the rest and circle around them, and we’ll cut them off. They won’t realize I’m following, so they’ll slow down a bit when they think they’re in the clear.’
Raker saluted. ‘As you say, Milady. Here you, Scratch, and you, Thicktail, take your squads and follow the Queen.’
The two weasel Captains saluted with their spears, then detailed their creatures to follow Tsarmina. The wildcat had bounded off alone, taking a wide loop south and back east.
Nothing aggravated Raker more than squirrel resistance fighters; they were like smoke in a breeze, here and gone. He took aim and heaved his spear at their leader, but it was a complete waste of time. Amber stood back drily, twirling her sling, and ducking as she let the spear graze harmlessly past. Directing her troops back across the open ground, she loosed a heavy pebble at tremendous speed. Raker threw his shield up in the nick of time, staggering backwards as the stone struck his shield and bounced off. When the ferret lowered his shiel
d it was as if there had never been a squirrel inside Kotir’s grounds.
They were gone into Mossflower.
High in the branches of the trees that fringed the woodland, squirrels shook with silent laughter at the dumbfounded expression on Raker’s face. He shook a mailed paw at the trees. ‘Come out and fight, you cowards!’
One last thunderous hail of stones, arrows and javelins sent the Kotir soldiery scurrying for cover.
The treetops rustled and swayed. Distant laughter told the enemy that the squirrels were swinging away through the sunlit upper terraces of leafy Mossflower.
8
BELLA OF BROCKHALL’S huge striped face lit up with pleasure. ‘Well, this is a rare and unexpected pleasure, Abbess Germaine. Come in, all of you, welcome to Brockhall.’
Abbess Germaine led the Brothers and Sisters of Loamhedge into Bella’s ancestral home, down the long twisting passage into the massive cavelike main hall, whose ceiling was the arched roots of the great oak above Brockhall. They made themselves at home around the wide hearth, whilst Bula the otter and Pear the squirrel, who had acted as their guides, explained to Bella what had taken place.
The badger listened carefully, settling back in her old armchair. ‘1 had an idea something like this would happen. That’s why I left Goody Stickle’s and came home here. Nothing ever goes as planned with Gonff. Still, not to worry, that young rip will be as right as rain, you’ll see. First things first. Let’s get you all fed. You must be famished. I was baking a batch of chestnut bread. It’ll be ready soon. I’ll make some celery and fennel stew with hazelnut dumplings and get a cheese up from the storeroom. Now stop looking noble, the pair of you. I know what growing otters and squirrels are like. You can wait here after you’ve eaten until the rest get back. Fetch bowls from the shelf for our guests. That’s it, make yourselves useful.’
Mossflower (Redwall) Page 5