Mossflower (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  ‘Get those buckets up here. Bring water!’ Tsarmina howled down the stairwell.

  ‘But we’re trying to put out the fire at the front door, Milady,’ a dithering voice called up from below.

  ‘I don’t care what you’re trying to put out! Get that water up here on the double.’

  ‘What about the door, Milady?’

  ‘Spit on it, for all I care. This is my room – the Queen’s own chamber is on fire. Hurry up, idiot.’

  ‘Idiot yourself!’

  ‘Who said that?’ she demanded.

  39

  ‘PLACE YOUR PAW flat upon the blade, grip the handle tight, hold the sword flat above your head.’

  Thwang!

  Martin countered Lupin’s blade as Boar roared out instructions.

  ‘That’s how to block the downward chop. Now let go of the blade. Sweep it down and under. Two paws on the haft, straight up and slice. Quickly, turn in and slice again at head height.’

  It took Lupin all her skill to duck Martin’s blade. She backed off, panting as she leaned on her sword.

  ‘Whew. Golly, there’s not a lot you can teach this warrior.’

  ‘Can’t I, though,’ Boar smiled. ‘Watch this!’

  The badger picked up a fire iron from the forge. Thrusting one paw into his blacksmith’s apron, he adopted a ready stance.

  ‘On guard, Martin,’ he called. ‘Go for a direct thrust.’

  Martin came on guard. Moving in swiftly to take the badger by surprise, he lunged and stabbed forward.

  Boar hardly seemed to move. With a flick of his fire iron he disarmed Martin, sending the sword spinning and pinning Martin against the wall in the same movement, the fire iron hovering a fraction away from the warrior mouse’s right eye.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Martin gasped with shock.

  Trubbs and co. were watching from the sidelines.

  ‘Oh, he does it easily old sport.’

  ‘No trouble to the jolly old boss.’

  ‘Quick as a wink, doncha know.’

  Boar laughed aloud. ‘It’s only a trick, Martin. Don’t get discouraged. I’ll show you a dozen more like it before this day’s through. Pick up your sword, on guard again.’

  This time the silver badger ducked in under the blade, catching Martin’s sword paw. Locking the point with the flat of the fire iron, he flattened the warrior mouse against the wall with the edge of the sword across his throat.

  ‘See, just another bit of trickery.’

  That second day of summer, Martin learned more of swordplay than in his whole life. Nobody was more adept with a blade than Boar the Fighter.

  Dinny, Log-a-Log and Gonff tried jointly to lift Boar’s own sword, but they could hardly manage to get the big battle blade off the floor. It was immense, a real full-grown male badger’s war sword, with double crosstrees and a ripping edge that had two sets of curved prongs halfway down the length of the extra-wide blade.

  Boar performed tricks with it, slicing apples in the air and taking a whiskertip from Lupin as she stood stock-still. Martin noticed that the badger’s mood became more light-hearted and jovial when he was around weapons, even allowing himself to be flattered by Harebell, Honeydew and Willow, who imitated Trubbs and co. by speaking alternately.

  ‘Ooh, you are clever, Boar old chap.’

  ‘And strong. My word!’

  ‘We ladies would never be able to lift your big heavy sword.’

  Three special daggers had been forged for Gonff, Log-a-Log and Dinny, who wore them proudly about their waists. Gonff delighted the occupants of Salamandastron with his impromptu ballads.

  ‘Harebell, Honeydew and Willow,

  Each a pretty thing;

  Bold, brave and fearless,

  Wother, Trubbs and Ffring;

  Lupin, Buffheart, Starbuck, Breeze,

  Swift as winds across the trees;

  Rule o’er land and sea herefrom,

  Sala-manda-stron.’

  Harebell and co. fluttered their eyelids madly.

  ‘Oh, Mr Gonff, you are clever.’

  ‘And so handsome, too.’

  ‘You have a lovely voice.’

  Gonff waved a modest paw. ‘Save it for Trubbs and co. ladies. I’m promised to my Columbine.’

  ‘Is she pretty?’

  ‘Very pretty?’

  ‘Prettier than us?’

  ‘Well she’s certainly prettier than Gonff,’ Martin, Dinny and Log-a-Log chimed in impudently.

  ‘I’d say half as pretty again.’

  ‘Oi’d say twoice as pri’ee, hurr hurr.’

  Boar roared with laughter and raised his battle sword. ‘Cheek, shall I chop off their heads, Gonff?’

  The mousethief flushed scarlet beneath his fur. ‘No, just their legs will do, Boar. They need their mouths to eat and make silly remarks with.’

  To ease Gonff’s embarrassment, Buffheart beckoned the friends.

  ‘Have you seen our fire lizard?’

  ‘Fire lizard? No,’ Gonff chipped in quickly. ‘Let’s go and have a look!’

  They followed Boar and the hares, trooping up more flights of stairs until they were somewhere near the echo cave. Buffheart took them into a side cave that had a big open window slot. By the side of the window lay a great stone carving of a fearsome head, a grotesque parody of what its maker had imagined a dragon should look like.

  ‘Nobody knows how it came here,’ Starbuck said, stroking it fondly. ‘Sometimes Boar lifts it up to the window at night and lights a fire in its mouth to frighten off the sea rats.’

  Boar exerted his great strength and picked up the stone head. ‘Yes, I put it about here, facing out to sea.’

  He rested the head on the window sill, then went strangely quiet. Boar the Fighter stared hard to seaward. The rest joined him at the window to see what it was.

  Halfway between the skyline and the shore, a ship was sailing in toward land. It was a large black galley with double oarbanks and twin square-rigged sails. At the tip of the prow was the bleached skull and fin of some large seafish, standing out like a figurehead.

  Boar whispered a single chilling word.

  ‘Bloodwake!’

  He was oblivious of all about him, remaining with his gaze riveted on the craft in the water.

  Martin turned to Lupin. ‘Is that Ripfang’s ship?’ he asked.

  She nodded distractedly, pulling at Boar’s heavy paw. ‘Come away, Boar, please. Can’t you see he’s taunting you again?’

  The silver badger shook her off and dashed through to the echo cave.

  Even though they shielded their ears, they could hear Boar in the other room, roaring out like thunder at the vessel, ‘Ahoy, Bloodwake. Ripfang, are you there? This is Boar the Fighter. Why don’t you show your rotten hide near my mountain again? How about tonight? I’ll be waiting, seascum!’

  As they watched, a red flag embellished with a scourge was hauled to the foremast peak. It dipped up and down twice.

  Buffheart’s teeth ground angrily together. ‘He’ll be here, make no mistake about that.’

  Boar strode heavily in from the echo cave, stretching himself up until his head brushed the ceiling. He gave a huge sigh of satisfaction then recited aloud,

  ‘The second night of summer,

  The second visit since spring,

  The rat from the seas

  Meets the Lord of the rock,

  To settle everything.’

  Martin saw the wild light of battle in Boar’s eye. ‘Then you’re going to fight Ripfang tonight?’ he surmised.

  Boar departed from the cave, calling as he went, ‘No, I’m going to kill him!’

  They pursued him down the stairs to the forge hall. Taking a rough file, the badger began putting a slashing edge to his war sword.

  The happy time was at an end.

  Martin picked up his own sword. ‘We’re coming with you, Boar.’

  The badger shook his head. ‘No. This is not your fight. This one was written long ago on t
he wall behind my father. It must be.’

  Martin was obdurate. ‘Say what you like, Boar. When night falls, I’ll be there at your side.’

  ‘Aye, and I.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘And me, matey.’

  ‘Boi ’okey, an’ oi too.’

  ‘Count me in, old chap.’

  ‘Rather, what ho!’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, what?’

  Boar put the file aside. ‘So be it. Come if you feel you must, and thank you, my friends. But you, Buffheart, and you, Lupin – you must remain here with your young ones. The fires must be kept burning, you understand?’

  Buffheart nodded, biting his lip so fiercely that a trickle of blood coursed from the side of his mouth.

  ‘As you say, Boar,’ Lupin spoke for both of them.

  The silver badger stood with his paws resting on the top crosstree of his sword, every inch the commander.

  ‘The rest of you, listen to me. No matter what happens, you must obey the warrior’s code. I give the orders, no one else. I know it may be difficult for you to understand, but you must trust me completely. If you obey me, then you are my true friends; disobey, and you are my enemy. Do you understand what I say?’

  The heads nodded in silence.

  Boar hung the great sword back on its wall spikes.

  ‘Good. Now go and rest,’ Boar told them. ‘But first see to your weapons and eat.’

  When they had gone, Martin lingered awhile with Boar.

  ‘That verse you spoke,’ he said curiously. ‘It was written on the wall. Did you recite it all?’

  Boar shook his head. ‘Not all. The last lines are only for me to know. Once again, Martin, thank you. It will be good to have a real warrior at my side tonight.’

  They clasped paws, the mouse’s dwarfed by the badger’s.

  ‘Good luck, Boar my friend.’

  ‘Luck has little to do with fate, Martin. You follow the warrior’s star. Be true to yourself and your friends.’

  So the creatures of Salamandastron lay down to rest, each one with their own thoughts.

  The second glorious day of summer rolled on toward night.

  The black ship Bloodwake sailed closer with every wave.

  40

  BANE HAD AN idea.

  ‘Now that the woodlanders have gone,’ he suggested cunningly, ‘why don’t we sneak out of Kotir and hide ourselves in the bushes at the edge of the forest? We could hide right behind the position they held this morning. That way, we’ll be able to turn the ambush on them if they come back tomorrow for another dawn attack.’

  ‘Huh huhuhu, good idea, fox,’ Brogg chuckled encouragingly.

  Tsarmina turned a frosty stare upon the Captain; the chuckle died to a gurgle in his throat. Near open enmity was the order of the day now between her and Bane. She was sorry she had ever let him and his band inside her gates.

  ‘Fool, Brogg,’ she snarled. ‘Can’t you see this fox only wants us out of Kotir so that he and his raggedy band can slip in behind our backs?’

  Bane spread his paws wide disarmingly. ‘Hoho, if that’s what you think, lady.’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I think, fox!’ Tsarmina snapped back.

  ‘That’s a problem easily solved.’ Bane shrugged. ‘You stay in here with your deadhead Captain; I take the forces out into the woods. In fact, I’ll take them tonight, so that we can be well hidden by the time the woodlanders arrive.’

  Tsarmina sniffed. ‘That’s a better idea. I’ll agree to that, Bane.’

  The fox laughed. He drew his sword and held it out. ‘Think you can trust me, or would you like to confiscate my sword?’

  Tsarmina’s eyes slitted dangerously. ‘If I take that sword, I’ll take your head with it, fox.’

  Bane sheathed the sword and spat. ‘If you ever try to take my sword it’ll be your head that comes off, cat.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  ‘Aye, we shall see.’

  Chibb saw, too. He heard all as well.

  A swift flutter of his wings took him out across Mossflower, back to Brockhall.

  Foremole was pacing around in deep leaf mould with Old Dinny. They were trying to remember the exact location of a disused tunnel.

  ‘Thurr it may be. Moind, oi only sez maybe.’

  ‘No, tis yurr. Oi’d swurr on moi tunnel it’s yurr.’

  ‘Nay, may’ap it’s midway ’twixt they two.’

  ‘Wo urrhoops, urthenquaker. Look out!’

  The ground beneath them trembled and heaved. Both moles were tipped flat on their bottoms in the loam.

  Soilflyer’s head popped out of the ground. He blew dead leaves from his snout, grinning broadly.

  ‘Hurr, good morrow to ’ee, zurrs,’ he called cheerfully. ‘Us’ns found that crossways tunnel as used to be yurr.’

  Foremole tried hard to preserve his dignity. ‘Thurr ’ee be, Owd Din. Oi did tell ’ee it wurr thurr.’

  ‘Oo, fer a ’spectable Foremole, ’ee be a gurt fib bag!’

  Soilflyer pulled himself free of the loam, followed by Urthclaw and Billum. They tugged their snouts in mock respect to their elders, Billum stifling a bass giggle.

  ‘’Ow summ of these owd lads do enjoy loif, a-setten about playen in ’ee leaves loik liddle ’ogs, it do surproise oi.’

  Foremole shook a stern claw at Billum. ‘Lessen thoi cheek. Get ’ee over to Brocken’all an git ’ee vittles.’

  Over at Brockhall, things were running smoothly. The little ones played games with Columbine and Goody, while the Abbess helped Ben Stickle and her mice to fletch arrows, which they tied into bundles. As deputy in Bella’s absence, Abbess Germaine was not too pleased that Skipper and Amber had disobeyed a Corim decision, but she made allowances for the fact that they had lost friends in the ambush at the diggings. Nevertheless, she felt it was her duty to upbraid them.

  ‘You had no right to go off like that after electing to stay here. Both of you might have been killed.’

  Skipper was fishing pieces of hazelnut and leek out of a pan of stew that had gone cold beside the hearth. Germaine rapped the table sharply with an arrow.

  ‘Skipper of otters, are you listening to me?’

  ‘Oh aye, marm, I’m all ears,’ he said abstractedly. ‘Are these last season’s nuts or the one before? Right nice sweet taste they’ve got.’

  The Abbess snorted in exasperation. ‘Now, I want you, both of you, to promise me that you’ll never do anything so foolish again. I’m surprised at you, Lady Amber – you a squirrel Queen, too. That’s not setting a very good example to others, is it?’

  Amber cocked her severed and bandaged ear stump toward Germaine.

  ‘Eh, what’s that you say?’

  All three dissolved in helpless laughter.

  Chibb arrived with the moles, saving the miscreants further scolding; reports were made to the Corim leaders present. Ferdy and Coggs had arrived at a decision to become warrior carpenter cooks, so they served refreshments for everybody.

  As they ate, the Abbess mulled over the situation. ‘Well, if the forces of Kotir are hiding in the woods, it would be unwise for you two to try a repeat performance of today’s attack.’

  Skipper grinned broadly. ‘Why, perish the thought, marm. They’ll be keeping themselves busy, by the sound of it. We’ll just let ’em lie uncomfortable like out there all night, then they can shiver through the dawn waiting for us not to turn up. What a damp squib.’

  Foremole banged the tabletop with one of Ferdy’s biscuits. ‘Hurr, an’ iffen they varments think us’ns stopped a-diggen, burr, they’m doant know moles. Us’ll ’ave ’ee tunnels worken agin afore eventoid, mark.’

  Bella of Brockhall had wandered far in search of a second hide-out. If ever Brockhall were discovered by the army of Tsarmina, it was imperative that the woodlanders have a place of safety to flee to. The good badger was always conscious of her responsibility to the woodlanders. She felt she must u
ndertake this search. Bella enjoyed the solitude of the far Mossflower stillness after the close confines of Brockhall in the company of woodlanders. By midday she was travelling east through vast tracts of field country. The badger knew instinctively that the River Moss would be winding its way somewhere near, and her good senses were confirmed in due course.

  Bella seated herself on the bank of the broad swirling water. She did not resist taking a short nap in the early summer warmth.

  ‘Bella. Hey there, Bella of Brockhall!’

  The badger sat bolt upright, blinking away her tiredness. Gingivere was running towards her, and there was another cat with him, a sleek reddish female.

  The badger jumped up waving her paws joyfully.

  ‘Haha, Gingivere you old rascal, who’s your friend?’

  The female cat smiled and waved back.

  ‘Oh, you are just as I imagined you, Bella,’ she said warmly. ‘Gingivere has told me all about you and his woodland friends. I’m Sandingomm.’

  They sat on the bank together as Bella brought them up to date with the news and explained her mission. As she talked, Bella noticed how strong and happy Gingivere looked. The reason why soon became apparent.

  ‘Look at me, Bella. Would you believe it, I’m a farmer now. Yes, me, Gingivere, son of Verdauga. We’ve got a nice little piece of land further up the bank and the fishing is good in this river.’

  The badger was delighted. ‘Well, you certainly fell on your paws this time, friend. Though you deserve it after all you’ve been through. Congratulations to you both.’

  Sandingomm thanked Bella. ‘Anytime you please, you may bring the woodlanders to stay with us. This place is too far away for Gingivere’s wicked sister to find.’

  Bella stood up. Dusting her coat off, she refused an offer to stay for lunch.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of intruding on two such happy creatures any longer,’ she said firmly. ‘Besides, I’ve got to get back to Brockhall and give them the good news. Not only have I found a second hide-out, but I have rediscovered our friend Gingivere and made yet another new friend in Lady Sandingomm.’