42
DAWN BRUSHED PALE streaks of pink and gold through the grey mist on the calm sea waters.
Rasping sounds from a file could be heard on deck from the oarbanks below. Gonff was freeing the slaves.
Martin and Dinny assisted the pathetic creatures onto the deck. Some of them had not seen daylight in seasons. They were a mixed bunch, ragged shrews and emaciated mice, together with some bedraggled hedgehogs and the odd guant squirrel.
How could any creature treat another in this cruel manner? Martin wondered. It made his blood boil as he tended them.
Dinny was doling out food from Bloodwake’s well-stocked pantry. ‘Yurr, get sum vittles down ’ee, us’ns fatten ’ee up.’
Martin was supporting a tough mouse who seemed on the verge of collapse.
‘Thank you, Martin son of Luke,’ he said, nodding gratefully at the young warrior.
Martin’s paws gave way. He sank to the deck of Bloodwake, taking his burden with him. They sat staring at each other. Martin could find only one word to say.
‘Timballisto?’
Tears ran freely down the mouse’s whiskers. ‘Martin, my friend.’
A shrew who was gnawing at a ship’s biscuit came and sat by them. ‘Martin, the young warrior mouse, eh? Timballisto here was always talking about you.’ Tim-ballisto threw a paw about his friend’s shoulder. ‘How did you know I was aboard this floating rat trap?’
Martin hugged him. ‘I didn’t you old wardog. I thought you’d gone to the gates of Dark Forest long ago, fighting enemies off outside our caves in the northlands.’
As they sat talking, Log-a-Log came from Ripfang’s cabin aft. He was studying some sailcloth charts. Immediately a great shout went up from the shrews who had been freed.
‘Log-a-Log! Chief, it’s us, the old gang from the village!’
Preoccupied with something he had discovered among the maps, the Shrew Chief waved distractedly to them. ‘Ha, hello, you lot. Well, eat up and get fit again. The boss is back now. Told you I’d rescue you, didn’t I.’
Gonff heaved himself up from the galleybanks below. ‘Whew, matey! It could do with a good scrub down there. Hey, Log-a-Log, found some booty?’
The shrew spread charts upon the deck. ‘Look, it’s all here – the way home.’
Martin could make little of the charts. ‘Show me.’
‘Righto. It’s simple really. See here, that’s Salamandastron,’ Log-a-Log explained. ‘Keep the setting sun to your left and follow the coastline until we sight a river flowing into the sea from the right. It’s the River Moss, see, flowing from east to west.’
Dinny’s digging paw tapped the canvas. ‘Hurr, well oi never did, stan’ on moi tunnel! It be our river as flows thru Mossfl’er. Lookit, thurr be ’ee woodlands marked up over yon. Burr, ’ee ratbag knowed it all.’
Log-a-Log pinned the canvas down against a breeze which was springing up.
‘I’ll say he did. That’s how he came to capture my tribe. There’s our village marked up on the northeast fringes of Mossflower. Banksnout, shin up the mast and keep your eyes busy for the river flowing in from landward. Gonff, take the tiller and hold it seaward a point to bring us closer into shore. Shrews, break out all sail so we catch this good breeze.’
Under the eye of the summer sun, Bloodwake scudded across the foaming whitecaps like a great seabird. Timballisto leaned over the deckrail with Martin.
‘I wish I’d had the chance to meet Boar the Fighter,’ Timballisto sighed. ‘He sounds like a great warrior, from what you say. What a pity he won’t be coming back to save Mossflower.’
Martin drew his sword. He pointed it east toward the land. ‘It is my duty to save Mossflower. I swore it to Boar and I intend keeping that oath.’
Timballisto watched him as he held forth the beautiful blade. ‘You will, Martin. You will!’
A hedgehog poked his head around the door of the forward cabins. ‘Ahoy, there’s a full armoury here, lads – swords, spears, knives, everything an army could wish for.’
‘Gurt loads o’ vittles, too.’ Dinny chuckled. ‘Oi tell ’ee, Gonffen, liddle boats make oi sick, hurr, but this’n’s a noice big shipper. Oi’ll call ’er Wuddshipp. Harr, that be a foin name.’
Gonff watched the forepeak respond to the tiller.
‘Wuddshipp it is then, Din. Though personally I’d have named her Columbine.’
Trubbs and co chimed in.
‘I say, that’s a bit strong, Gonff, old sailor.’
‘Has Columbine really got a wooden bottom?’
‘And two ears that stick out like sails?’
They narrowly ducked the pail of seawater that Gonff hurled.
Banksnout roared out in a gruff shrew bass from atop the rigging, ‘Ahoy! River in sight up north to landward!’
Martin climbed the bowsprit. He stood on the bleached fish skull figurehead, looking eagerly.
Sure enough, there was the river, boiling across the shores in the distance. He turned to the crowd of eager faces watching him.
‘Take her head up and round the shore, Gonff. We’re going home!’
Shrews, mice, hedgehogs, squirrels, hares and a single mole roared out in one voice that rang across the waves,
‘Mossflowerrrrrrr!!!’
43
ARGULOR WAS AWAKE.
Shifting on his high spruce perch, he glared down greedily through his old watery eyes at the red-cloaked figure crossing the parade ground of Kotir.
‘At last, pine marten!’
Tsarmina pushed hard against the gates. ‘See, they’re rocking on their hinges,’ she pointed out to Bane. ‘Those woodlanders have been meddling with them, I’m sure of it.’
Bane gave the gates a kick. ‘Do you think so? They seem solid enough to me. Huh, even fire arrows didn’t make much impression on these gates.’
Tsarmina unbolted the locks. Opening the gates cautiously, she peered around them at the woodlands. It was safe.
‘All clear out here, but I don’t like it. I’m sure they’ve done something to these hinges from outside. Just think, if these gates blew down during the autumn, we’d be at their mercy.’
‘Huh, I don’t know what you’re fussing about,’ Bane said, swirling his new cloak impatiently. ‘The gates look all right to me.’
Tsarmina gnawed her lip. ‘Are you really sure, though?’
The fox sighed in exasperation. ‘Oh, I suppose I’ll have to go and take a look to keep you happy.’
He strode briskly outside.
Tsarmina dodged inside, slamming the gates and bolting them.
Bane was puzzled momentarily. ‘Hoi, what’s the matter with you, Tsarmina?’
There was no reply. Tsarmina was racing across the parade ground to watch from her high window.
Suddenly Bane sensed he had been tricked, but it was too late.
Argulor had already launched himself from his perch. He homed in on the red-cloaked figure like a bolt from the blue.
On the other side of Kotir, Bane’s mercenaries worked away on the scullery door, blissfully unaware of what was taking place outside.
Bane did not see the eagle swoop; he was trying to find pawholds as he clambered up the oaken gates.
Argulor struck him hard from behind, burying powerful talons and vicious hooked beak in the prey which had eluded him for so long. The fox was transfixed, frozen with cruel agony; but as the eagle started to carry him off, Bane’s fighting instincts took over. Freeing his curved sword, he struck upward at the feathered enemy.
The sword hit Argulor, once, twice!
Doggedly the great eagle sank talons and beak deeper into his prey. Beating the air with his massive wingspread as he did, both hunter and quarry rose skyward.
Tsarmina at her window danced up and down in fiendish glee. Attracted by the screams, the occupants of Kotir looked up. Bane slashed wildly with his sword; Argulor stabbed madly with his beak. All the while the combatants rose higher, and soon they were above the treetops.
Chibb fluttered in circles some distance away. He watched the amazing sight as eagle and fox rose into the sky.
Far above Mossflower, Argulor won the battle. Bane gave a final shudder and went limp, the curved sword falling from his lifeless paws. The ancient eagle felt cheated; this was no pine marten, it was a fox. Argulor’s heart sank in his breast. It did not rise again. The rheumy eyes shut in the same instant as the great wings folded in death, and only the talons remained fixed deep into the dead fox.
Tsarmina watched as both creatures plunged earthward.
Two enemies defeated in a single brilliant stroke.
Ratflank dashed for the gate. Brogg shouted after him, ‘Where d’you think you’re off to?’
‘Ha, to get that cloak, of course. That’s a good bit of velvet. It can be repaired, y’know.’
‘Get back here, frogbrain. See what happened to the fox – he wore the cloak. D’you want the same thing happening to you?’
‘Frogbrain yourself, dimwit. Can’t you see the eagle’s dead? Any creature can wear that cloak now.’
‘Hoi! Don’t you call me dimwit, droopywhiskers.’
‘I’ll call you what I like, dimwit. Nitears! Fatnose!’
Tsarmina smiled inwardly, a third victory today. Now she heard Ratflank shouting she could identify the insolent voice that had often insulted her from the protection of the ranks or the bottom of a curved stairwell.
Later that day, she instructed Brogg.
‘Take Ratflank, and find the bodies of the eagle and the fox.’
‘Yes, Milady. Shall I bring them back here?’
‘No, Brogg. Bury them.’
‘As you say, Milady.’
‘Oh, and Brogg. . . .’
‘Yes, Milady?’
‘How do you feel about that insolent Ratflank these days?’
‘Oh, him. He’s a cheekybeast, Milady. Called me lots of nasty names.’
‘Yes. Me too. How would you like to bury him with the fox and the eagle?’
‘Huh hu hu huh,’ Brogg chortled. ‘Can I, Milady?’
‘Yes, but not a word to any creature about it.’
‘Can I have the red cloak too, Milady?’
‘Yes, if you want it.’
‘And Bane’s curved sword, Milady?’ Brogg pressed her.
‘If you can find it.’
‘Where d’you think it fell, Milady?’
Tsarmina turned her eyes upward as if seeking patience. ‘Brogg, I wouldn’t know where the sword fell, or the eagle, or the fox. Just get out of my sight and don’t bother me with details.’
‘But what about—Yes, Milady.’
Urthclaw was first to reach the underground foundations of Kotir. Tunnelling steadily, he made his way along the underground wall until he met up with Billum. Together they continued until they linked up with Soilflyer, who was waiting for them.
‘Burr, ‘day to ’ee moles,’ he greeted them. ‘Foremole an’ Owd Dinny be along wi’ tools soon, us’ns can brekk throo ’ee rock then.’
Lady Amber had sunk the floodgates at the other end of the tunnels, they were to be lifted by rope hoists attached to rock counterweights over high branches. Skipper and his crew had dug fresh tunnels from the river, sloping down to meet the floodgates which separated them from the main tunnels. All the workings had been shorn up with stone and timber. Foremole supervised the removal of rocks from the foundations of Kotir. The moles pried away the soft, damp stones with bars and chisels until they felt the cold foetid air on their snouts. ‘Burr, oo, durty owd place needen a gurt barth, hur hurr.’
Shortly before nightfall, the moles climbed out of the tunnel workings, back in Mossflower, where the woodlanders and Corim leaders had assembled. Bella rolled three large rocks over the holes from which the moles had emerged. Others moved in to pack the bungrocks firmly in with wood and soil.
Now everything was ready.
Between the lower depths of Kotir and the distant river in Mossflower Woods, all that stood was three timber sluicegates.
Lady Amber laid her tail flat on the lower branches of a sycamore.
The woodlanders held their breath.
Skipper nodded to Foremole.
Foremole nodded to Bella.
Bella nodded to Amber.
The squirrel’s tail rose like a starter’s flag. There was a creaking of rope pulleys as squirrels launched the rocks from the high trees, riding down to earth on them, holding to the ropes. The counterweights travelled fast, humming across the heavily beeswaxed branches.
The wooden floodgates made a squelching sound as they were pulled free of the earth, then water began rippling through into the tunnels.
The flooding of Kotir had begun!
44
DRIVING WUDDSHIPP INLAND against the flow of the River Moss was a difficult task.
All paws manned the oarbanks, and Martin sat alongside Timballisto.
‘Phew! I never realized rowing was such heavy work,’ Martin groaned.
‘Pull, my friend, pull. It’s twice as bad when you have to do it on half-rations with a sea rat’s whip cracking about your ears and you chained to the oar.’
The vessel had been built for coast raiding. Though it was a large craft, it had a flat bottom for taking shallow draught; thus it was able to travel upriver without a deep keel sticking in the shallows.
Inland they travelled, sometimes aided by a breeze when the sails were hoisted. Other times saw two teams dragging her forward on headropes from the riverbanks.
It took a day and a half of hard work to get across the flat beach and into the dunes, where the river was tighter channelled and flowed faster against them. Log-a-Log solved the problem by using the long galley oars from the deck. Two crew to each oar, they punted and pushed Wuddshipp through the dunes, keeping her head upriver with great difficulty. Gradually the dunes gave way to hilly scrubland and the sand began to disappear.
It was a weary crew that sat upon the bank that night, watching the ship riding at anchor.
Gonff hurled a clod of earth at the fast-flowing water. ‘We’ll never make it this way, mateys. Why not abandon ship and march the rest of the way?’
Harebell and co. smiled sweetly.
‘Oh, you are a silly, Mr Gonff. We must take the ship.’
‘The river flows back to the sea, you see.’
‘And we may need that to make a quick getaway if we are pushed.’
Martin winked at Gonff. ‘The ladies certainly know their strategy. By the way, has anyone seen Log-a-Log Big Club?’
As if in answer, the shrew strode up out the gathering gloom. ‘Aye aye. I’ve been scouting ahead. Found the old village, too. Come on, you lucky lot. There’ll be a hot meal and a warm bed with a roof overhead tonight. Banksnout, you wouldn’t recognize your little ones now – they’re taller than me. Oh, Martin, I forgot to tell you, we’ve gained another hundred able-furred recruits.’
Delight awaited them at the shrew village as families were reunited amidst cheering and shouting.
‘Daddy, Daddy, it’s me, Emily, your baby shrewlet.’
‘Hoho, look at you! You’re bigger than your mum.’
‘Sharptail, you said you were going for acorns. That was four seasons ago! Where have you been?’
‘Sorry, m’dear. Sea rats y’know. What’s this, grandshrew babies?’
‘Aye, you’re a grandpa shrew now.’
‘By the fur! Here, give me a hold of that little fat feller.’
‘Gluggabuggaluggoo!’
‘Haha. See, he knows me already.’
The hares joined Martin and the others round a fire. Two plump shrews served them with hot fruit pie, dandelion salad and bowls of fresh milk. Gonff sang around a mouthful of hot pie,
‘O the Wuddshipp is a goodship,
And we’ll sail her anywhere,
Rowed by mice, crewed by shrews,
And often steered by hare.
So hoist the anchor, loose the sails,
Give me a wind th
at never fails,
And we’ll sail the goodship Wuddshipp
From here to old Brockhall.’
He had to sing it twice again whilst the shrews danced a hornpipe with the hares.
As the fires burned low, they settled back with full stomachs and renewed hope for the morn.
Martin and Timballisto slept side by side beneath the stars, each wrapped in a colourfully woven shrew blanket.
Dinny dug a flattish hole for the hares.
‘Oh thank you kindly, Mr Mole.’
‘Such charming manners and swift digging.’
‘Ooh, and that beautiful velvety fur and strong claws.’
Dinny wrinkled his face and tugged his snout, slightly embarrassed. ‘Burr, bless ’ee, baint nought but an owd ’ole, missies.’
The moon rose like a white china plate over the peaceful scene on the banks of the River Moss.
Tsarmina faced the troops gathered in the large mess hall. She had specially arranged the gathering by sending Bane’s former mercenaries in first; her own soldiers, led by Brogg in his red velvet cloak, ringed the mercenaries by jostling them to the centre of the floor. Brogg held up Bane’s curved sword for silence as the wildcat Queen addressed the assembly.
‘Bane is dead. Those who served under him have nowhere left to go now. Move from here, and you do it without supplies, weapons or anything. Besides, those woodlanders out there would take care of you in short order. Any creature want to say something?’
There was silence.
‘Right,’ she continued commandingly. ‘From now on you take your orders from me. Brogg will see that you get rations and a billet each. Later I’ll see about appointing more officers and getting you some proper uniforms. Take over, Brogg.’
The weasel Captain stepped up, twirling his new sword. ‘Altogether now. Hail Tsarmina, Queen of Mossflower!’
The response was less than enthusiastic.
Mossflower (Redwall) Page 31