Martin The Warrior (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  A flotilla of shrew canoes came racing round the bend and hit the bank with a loud damp thud. Starwort winked at Boldred. ‘Ho, look out, ’ere comes trouble on the tide!’

  Boldred blinked at the teeming arguing masses of shrews, yelling and waving their swords angrily. ‘What are they doing here?’

  Starwort flexed his powerful paws. ‘I thought we might need extra ’elp, so I told ’em they weren’t allowed to follow us an’ I forbid them to take part in any fight. You know the shrews, mate – never do as they’re told.’ The otter waved at his deck crew. ‘Cast off for’ard, cast off aft, cast off midships. Away we go! You shrews, stop ’ere, you ain’t comin’, see!’

  Rose and Pallum chuckled at Starwort’s ruse as a veritable armada of craft pulled out into the stream, with Waterlily in the vanguard.

  Martin stood in the bows of the otter boat as if willing it to travel faster. Worry etched itself across his brow. Boldred perched on the forard rail. ‘Rest, Martin. Nothing you can do will make the river flow swifter.’

  Grim-jawed, the young mouse pawed his sword hilt as he paced back and forth, heedless of the glorious sunset on the water. ‘I’ll never forgive myself if we’re too late. Travelling to Noonvale was a mistake, I should have stayed on the coast and sought Brome out, Felldoh too. Things might have been different.’

  Boldred folded her wings, shifting from claw to claw.

  ‘Aye, you could have all been slain, then what help would you be? This way you are returning to Marshank with an army at your back. Many more are coming to aid your cause. I have made sure of that.’

  Martin watched the stream slip by, gurgling and eddying. ‘Forgive me, friend. I must seem very ungrateful after all you have done to help.’

  ‘It is natural to worry when friends are in danger, Martin. Don’t think about what you could have done, concentrate on what you plan to do; it is more useful.’ Boldred spread her wings, preparing for flight. ‘I must leave you for a while now. There are more things that I have to do. I’ll see you at Marshank, Warrior mouse. Good seasons and fair winds go with us both.’

  Martin watched his feathered friend winging off downstream into the evening treetops, silhouetted against a sky of lilac and gold.

  ‘Move yer stern a touch, matey, and let me get at the drum!’ Starwort’s wife Marigold opened a locker and rolled out a big flat drum. She placed it on a coil of rope and began whacking it slowly with her rudderlike tail. The deep boom cut through the twilight stillness as Rose came to join Martin in the bows. They both looked on perplexed, until Marigold explained, ‘Just drummin’ up a little more ’elp. My Starwort always says that willin’ paws are welcome ones.’

  A rolling drum answered Marigold’s summons. Rose pointed upstream. ‘Look!’

  Waiting to join them was a sprawling flat raft with a rickety shed built at its centre. Lines of otters and burly hedgehogs stood by their long poles, waiting to join the fleet.

  Starwort sprang to the bowsprit, waving at the newcomers. ‘Yoho, Gulba, me ole mucker, come to join in the fun?’

  The biggest of the hedgehogs was a female. Coloured tassels hung from her headspikes and she brandished a formidable warclub studded with chunks of crystal.

  ‘Yoho, Starwort. Yore gittin’ fat an’ sleek these days. Wot’s Marigold bin feedin’ ye on?’

  Starwort grinned mischievously as he ducked a swipe from his wife. ‘Hard words an’ hotroot when she’s not bullyin’ the babies!’

  Gulba’s husband Trung was small and fat. He emerged from the shack eating a watershrimp pastie and twirling a thong with two stones clacking on its split end. ‘Who are we fightin’ an’ when do we get at ’em, Marigold?’

  Martin came alert as he listened to the information.

  ‘The vermin in the big place by Eastern Sea. With a followin’ breeze an’ no stream blockages, we should get there by noon on the morrow. Are you game?’

  The raft pushed off as they passed, bumping several shrew longboats and following the Waterlily’s wakeswirl.

  Gulba leaned on her warclub and scowled. ‘We’re with you. ’Tis only a matter o’ time afore that scummy stoat takes over the whole coast an’ starts foragin’ inland for slaves. I say we put a stop to him smartlike!’

  Throughout the night Martin’s piecemeal slumbers were broken as the drums sounded and more woodland tribes joined the swelling ranks. Rose slept through it all. Waking at dawn light, she was amazed and delighted to see the stream packed with boats and craft of all shapes, each one low in the water with creatures ready to fight at their side. Along the banks she could see others, squirrels and mice, keeping pace with the vessels at a swift lope. Starwort dashed past her and leaped up on the rail. Steadying himself on a rope, he put a paw to his brow, scanning the mist-wreathed waters ahead.

  ‘Steady on, backwater buckoes, the outlet’s in sight!’

  Martin left off opening a food pack. ‘What’s the outlet?’

  Suddenly the Waterlily picked up speed as if she were being sucked along on the current, and a rushing noise became audible.

  Starwort winked at Martin and Rose. ‘Best ’old tight, the outlet’s where we join the main Broadstream again. Nothin’ t’ worry about, it’s only rapids.’

  The whole craft gave a lurch, and it began to buck and leap. Timbers groaned crazily as Marigold shouted forrard. ‘Starwort, get yer hide aft an’ do somethin’ useful. I can’t manage this tiller single-pawed!’

  There was no time for more talk. Rose hung grimly on to Martin. Winding a rigging rope about his paws, the young mouse took a deep breath as the otter boat tilted into the rapids. A huge rainbow appeared through the mist of boiling spray as water engulfed everybeast aboard, and the craft stood almost on its end as it flew helter-skelter down the sickening drop. Ragged rocks rushed by. Grumm opened his mouth to yell, but it was filled with water. He clung to Pallum, ignoring his friend’s spikes. The world seemed to turn upside down for several perilous moments, the drum rat-tatting as rapid water beat at it.

  Starwort and Marigold laughed with wild exuberance as they fought the swivelling tiller. Together they roared above the mêlée, ‘Down weeeeeee goooooooo!’

  With a loud flat splash, the Waterlily landed in the Broadstream. Starwort was immediately up on the stern, bawling orders. ‘Ship out, ship out, mates! Pull ’er clear, make fast that raft an’ get ’er in midstream!’

  The otter crew worked furiously as other craft dropped in behind them. Two shrew longboats collided in midair and overturned. Gulba and her husband Trung, the two hedgehogs who steered the ramshackle craft, together with their otter friends managed to make a perfect flat landing in an immense cascade of water. The hut at the centre of the big raft half disintegrated under the impact, but Gulba paid it no heed. She was yelling sternly at the shrews.

  ‘Hoi, shrewheads, don’t ye know the meanin’ of the order to backwater. Yore mad as scorched frogs, you lot!’

  As if to prove her point, two shrew boats flew overhead, packed with shouting and arguing creatures. They sailed right over the raft. Gulba ducked as they flew by in midair.

  Splash! Crash!

  Both boats hit the water, miraculously staying upright. A shrew stood up, waving his sword at the hedgehog. ‘Tend to yer own raft, spikedog. We know what we’re doin’!’

  As boats were righted and soaking creatures hauled from the water, the fleet gradually got itself back on to an even keel.

  Rose shook Starwort and his wife by their paws gratefully. ‘Oh, you were so skilful, both of you, the way you took command and knew just what to do, steering this great boat right the way down those dangerous rapids. Only two creatures such as yourselves would know how to navigate that terrible drop in safety . . .’

  Marigold bobbed a comical curtsy. ‘Well, thankee now, pretty one. That was the first time we’ve ever been down those rapids!’

  Bump! Grumm fainted.

  Swifts darted and wheeled over the water in brilliant morning sunlight as it burned the mists away.
Martin finished breakfasting and went to stand up in the bows next to Starwort. The sturdy otter leaned confidentially close. ‘Listen, matey, while I tells yer three words you’ve wanted to ’ear . . . Next stop Marshank!’

  A tremor ran through the Warrior’s body. He clasped the sword handle tight, his eyes shining like flints in firelight.

  ‘I’m coming, Badrang!’

  39

  THE CART WAS a charred, smoking thing, but it still stood. All night the fighting had been furious, with no let-up.

  Fur and Freedom Fighters had battled against flaming shafts with their bare paws and sand. Four lay dead and three wounded. Smoke-grimed and bleary-eyed, they had plucked burning arrows from the wood, strung them on their bows and returned them to stick blazing in the gates of Marshank. The javelin supply was depleted, one shaft being retained for each creature in the event that paw-to-paw combat would be their final stand. There were still plenty of rocks to sling, Keyla and Tullgrew taking charge of the slingers whilst Ballaw managed a frugal breakfast. The hare sat wearily against one of the sandbanks that had been shorn up either side of the cart, Rowanoak slumped beside him. Both were singed and smoke-grimed.

  Rowanoak drank half her water, passing the rest on to Brome, who distributed it among the wounded. The badger wiped a sandy paw across her scorched muzzle. ‘Well, Ballaw De Quincewold, what’s to report?’

  The irrepressible hare wiped dust from his half-scone ration and looked up at the sky. ‘Report? Er, nothin’ much really, except that it looks like being another nice sunny day, wot!’

  A flaming arrow extinguished itself in the sand close by Rowanoak. She tossed it on to a pile of other shafts waiting to be shot. ‘A nice day indeed. D’you think we’ll be around to see the sunset?’ Without waiting for an answer, she continued, ‘I wonder if that owl – Boldred, wasn’t it – I wonder if she ever managed to get through to this Martin the Warrior creature.’

  Ballaw picked dried blood from a wound on his narrow chest. ‘Doesn’t look like it, does it? No, old Rowan me badger oak, I think the stage is all ours and it’ll be our duty to give the best performance we can before the curtain falls for the last time.’

  Groot plucked a pawful of arrows from the sand. Tossing them behind the smouldering cart, he took his bow from Buckler. Together they notched up their shafts, nodding to each other.

  ‘Watch the cart, it’s roasting hot. Right, fire!’

  Swiftly they stood and released the taut bowstrings, throwing themselves flat immediately. A hail of arrows hit the cart and the surrounding sand in reply. Groot scratched a mark in the sand next to a line of others.

  ‘Got one, big weasel type wearin’ a red jerkin!’

  Buckler shook his head in disappointment. ‘Oi been arfter that vurmint all noight moiself, hurr!’

  They notched up another two arrows. ‘At least the little ones’ll be safe with Geum and Purslane,’ Groot sniffed. ‘Maybe they’ll take off south and find some place where they can live in peace. Pity, I would’ve liked to see my little Fuffle grow up and take care of his mother when she’s an old un.’

  Buckler wrinkled his homely face into a smile. ‘Ho urr, he’m be a right liddle roguer, that babe o’ thoin. Doant you’m give oop ’ope, Groot. We’m bain’t finished yet, burr no!’

  Badrang sat in the courtyard. Shaded by the wall, it was the only place where missiles could not fall. He took a leisurely breakfast of smoked herrings and dandelion water.

  Boggs came down from the walltop and saluted with his bow. ‘That cart’s still there, Lord, though it can’t be much more than splinters an’ ash by now. A good breeze’d blow it over.’

  The Tyrant delicately plucked a fish scale from his upper lip. ‘Keep those archers firing until I tell you to stop. Have we lost many through the night?’

  ‘Twelve, maybe thirteen, Sire. There was quite a few wounded tryin’ to put the fire out on the gates.’

  Badrang nodded thoughtfully and beckoned to a passing ferret. ‘You there, Stumptooth. Get the rest of the horde on their paws. Issue the long pikes and spears, have them stand by.’

  Boggs brightened up a little. ‘Are you goin’ to start the charge, Lord?’

  Badrang poured a beaker of dandelion water and passed it to Boggs. ‘Not yet. Drink that. It’s cool, isn’t it? Also we’ve got plenty of food, solid walls around us and plenty of shade. Those wretches out there have only sun, sand, a few drops of water and hardly any food by now. They’ve not been able to sleep all night, while we’ve had archers relieving each other to take a rest. I think I’ll leave it a bit yet, keep them in suspense, make them suffer. Who knows, we might yet save a good number of slaves. Go and ask them to surrender again.’

  Tramun Clogg was digging graves in the soft ground near the corner of the wall. He leaned on his spade and eyed Badrang. ‘You never could go fer the clean kill, could yer, matey? Ho no, you likes pullin’ the wings off butterflies an’ watchin’ them crawl round ’elpless, as I recall. Though maybe yore worried that if yer did charge now, they’d put up a good fight.’

  Badrang held the dandelion water out to Clogg. As the corsair reached for it, he upended the jug, pouring it out on the ground. ‘You’re right, of course, Clogg. That’s why I like to keep you as a slave – it reminds me that once you tried to be my equal, or even my better, and now you have to take orders from the lowliest of my creatures. You are lower than a worm, Tramun Clogg!’

  The corsair dabbed his paw in the wet sand and sucked it. ‘Haharr, I never was ’igh an’ mighty like you, Badrang. I’ll just go back to buryin’ yer dead an’ wait fer you to turn up as a customer.’

  With his head wound in a bandage, Nipwort shrilled the message across to the creatures barricaded behind the sandbanks on either side of the burned-out cart.

  ‘My Lord Badrang is still merciful, he gives you a second chance to surrender and keep your lives. What is your answer?’

  ‘Tell old Badthingy it is beneath our dignity to surrender to scum!’ Ballaw’s voice came back insolently clear, this time accompanied by many others.

  ‘Stinky, slimy scum!’

  ‘Gutless, wet-nosed crook-tailed scum!’

  ‘Yurr, gurt fat-bottomed vurmint scummer!’

  Nipwort’s high-pitched squeak cut across the insults.

  ‘Is that the answer I must take to my Lord Badrang?’

  A good-sized, well-placed slingstone from Rowanoak knocked the rat backwards from the walltop to the courtyard.

  ‘Tell him he can chew on that for free!’

  Badrang had heard the exchange. He rolled the stunned form of Nipwort over with a kick. ‘Boggs, redouble the archers on the walltop and continue without halting. I’ll make those fools think it’s raining arrows!’

  Ballaw helped to shore up the banks, and Rowanoak piled sand against the flimsy burnt cart. Brome kept his head down as he bandaged Keyla’s injured tail under a pelting hail of arrows.

  The young otter gritted his teeth, forcing a tight smile as he gasped through a wave of pain, ‘D’you think it’s somethin’ we’ve said that’s offended him?’

  Brome ducked an arrow and continued with Keyla’s dressing. ‘Brave words. Slingstones and arrows is all we’ve got left, that’s the last of my herbs and bandages.’

  At midday the arrows ceased. There followed a lull. Ballaw went around doling out the last of the food and water. Groot nodded to the trenched ranks on the south-side. ‘Any chance we could charge them and break through? We could make it to the cliffs if we could.’

  Rowanoak patted his head lightly. ‘No chance at all. See, they’re all still standing ready on the walltop. We’d be cut down before we got halfway.’

  Groot shrugged. ‘Just a thought.’

  Ballaw took Rowanoak to one side, out of the hearing of the others. ‘This silence, I don’t like it one bit!’

  Rowanoak watched the still fortress and nodded. ‘They’re definitely planning something. A charge, d’you think?’

  Ballaw picked up a
javelin. ‘Right, that’s exactly my thoughts, old thing. Issue the javelins!’

  Each creature took a javelin in silence, knowing what it meant. Ballaw dusted himself down and stood to attention. ‘Listen up now, chaps. I’m not given to makin’ jolly great speeches an’ all that –’

  ‘Oh you dreadful old scene-stealer,’ Celandine tittered. ‘You’ve never made a short one in your life!’

  The hare glared at her as Rowanoak took over from him.

  ‘All that can be said has been said. I’m sure you know what I mean, but let me add this. For myself, it has been a pleasure to know you all and to serve with you in this great battle. May the seasons remember us kindly and what we tried to do here.’

  There was an embarrassed silence, then Brome held out his paw. ‘Give me a javelin too. I will try to be a warrior like Felldoh!’

  A wild yell arose from the fortress as Marshank’s gates swung open and the horde poured forth fully armed, racing across the sands towards the beleaguered little group standing behind the ruined cart.

  40

  MARTIN DREW HIS sword and leaped into the shallows. Splashing ashore, he watched the other boats empty out as he called to Starwort, ‘Which way to Marshank?’

  The draught from Boldred’s wings nearly knocked Martin over as the owl landed at his side. ‘Over that hill. Follow me!’

  Rose saw Martin stop at the hilltop. She ran to catch up with him, Grumm and Pallum following close behind her. ‘Martin, wait for us!’

  When they reached him, the young mouse stood staring open-mouthed at the scene below. Boldred ambled up, smiling. ‘Now you have a horde too!’

  Queen Amballa stood at the head of her mighty army of pigmy shrews, and behind them the Warden of Marshwood Hill could be seen stalking among the crowds of Gawtrybe squirrels as they waved their axes eagerly, wanting to play a new game. Otters, hedgehogs, mice, squirrels, moles and vast numbers of shrews stood surrounding the hill.