Eulalia!

by Brian Jacques

  In a trice, the war cries and shouts of pursuit were transformed into piercing shrieks of agony, under the full onslaught of a wasp attack. The torture was heightened when several vermin tripped against the rotten wych elm trunk, releasing a veritable storm of maddened hornets. The air was filled with the zing and buzz of ill-tempered insects, as they stung and stung again at their helpless victims. Brownrats performed weird dances of pain upon the wrecked wasp nests and the pulpy wood of the hornet lair.

  Gruntan leaned his weight sideways, upsetting the litter, as he launched himself into the streamwater. More than one rat died that day, overcome by hundreds of stings, each laden with wasp or hornet venom. Most of the horde fled into the woodlands, attempting to outrun their tormentors. Others, Gruntan among them, tried submerging themselves for long periods, and pressing on upstream.

  Rangval the Rogue arrived at the cove as evening was on the wane. Maudie, the otters and the Guosim were standing ready for an attack, with weapons drawn. Rangval looked around, slightly disappointed. “Have ye not got an ould bite o’ supper for a beast?”

  Luglug sheathed his rapier. “We was expectin’ Kurdly’s crew, never cooked no vittles.”

  The squirrel chuckled drily. “I don’t think they could make it, they was unavoidably detained by some little buzzin’ friends o’ mine.”

  Osbil shook a paw at Rangval. “The wasps an’ hornets around those two willows, ye mean. Thanks for not tellin’ us about ’em, mate!”

  Rangval dismissed the indignant young shrew with a shrug. “Ah well, me ould tater, there wasn’t much time for explanations, as I recall. I told ye t’watch out for Owch Mansions, tellin’ meself ye weren’t some thick’eaded horde rats, but intelligent shrews. I trust none of ye were stung by me liddle mates?”

  Maudie wiggled her ears at Rangval. “Not to worry, old lad, our Guosim friends were jolly lucky to have one of the finest brains in the blinkin’ land along with ’em, wot! ’Twas I who spotted Owch Mansions and brought us safely through to this fair haven!”

  Barbowla murmured confidentially to the squirrel, “Miz Maudie’s right, but it was she who wouldn’t allow us t’cook, for fear we were attacked.”

  Rangval shook his head in mock sadness. “Ah, ’tis always the way with maids, beauty an’ brains, but totally lackin’ in the supper department. Right, if’n ye’d all like to get in yore boats, I’ll take ye someplace where we’ll get an ould bite o’ grub!”

  With Rangval in the lead vessel, they pressed on. It was fully dark, and drizzling, when the squirrel halted them. He pointed to a medium-sized hill, not far from the bank. “There’s my lovely ould home. Rogue’s Retreat, I call it.”

  It was a natural cave inside the hill, the entrance to which was a bushy screen. Portaging the logboats, they made their way inside. Setting steel to flint, Rangval soon had a torch lighted.

  Maudie gazed around, it was a huge sandstone cavern. “I say, this is splendid, how’d you find it?”

  Rangval touched light to several other torches. “Find it? D’ye mind, missy, I made it!”

  Barbowla’s wife, Kachooch, gave Rangval a playful shove, which almost sent him sprawling. “Ah, away with ye, great, treewallopin’ fibber! I was brought up in a holt, just like this. It’s a place where the river ran through, when the land was young.”

  Luglug agreed with her. “Aye, I’ve heard o’ places like this, it was carved out by the water, over countless seasons. Then for some reason the river changed course, an’ prob’ly dwindled to yon stream outside, leavin’ this place.”

  Rangval did not seem at all put out by being caught lying, he grinned cheerfully at Maudie. “I’ll allow ye the honour of cookin’ supper for me, marm. On the way here these Guosim were after tellin’ me wot a marvellous cook you are, so carry on, please!”

  Maudie found herself smiling at the garrulous squirrel’s impudence. “Right ho, you cheeky wretch, but only if you agree t’go a few rounds boxin’ with me afterward. I’m the undefeated Champ of Salamandastron, y’know.”

  Rangval made a show of rolling up his nonexistent sleeves. “Shure, ’tis not often that I have to knock the block off’n a pretty maid to get supper, but I’ll do it!”

  Assisted by the Guosim helpers, Maudie put on a tidy spread, considering their limited resources. She made a pastry from cornmeal and chestnuts, filling it with preserved fruit and nuts, and working it into a long roll. To complement it, she made a thick, sweet, white arrowroot sauce. With some cheese and apples for starters, and coltsfoot dandelion cordial to drink, it proved a successful supper. They lolled about a fire as the Guosim servers apportioned it out.

  One of the shrewbabes found, to her delight, that the cave had a pretty little echo. She began to sing a song which her mama had taught her.

  “Don’t run away from yore mamma’s side,

  ’cos the woodland’s big an’ wide,

  hold on tight to her apron string,

  an’ y’won’t get hurted by anything.

  “I’m a good likkle shrew so that’s wot I do,

  I’m not a naughty likkle shrew like you!

  “When you go inna big logboat,

  sit very still when it’s afloat,

  if you jump an’ dance about,

  my mamma says that you’ll fall out.

  “I’m a good likkle shrew so that’s wot I do,

  I’m not a naughty likkle shrew like you!

  “Go near a fire an’ you get burned,

  this is a lesson I have learned,

  one day I’ll be big, you see,

  an’ I’ll have a pretty likkle shrew like me.

  “I’m a good likkle shrew so that’s wot I do,

  I’m not a naughty likkle shrew like you!”

  Rangval lay back, both paws folded across his stomach. “Ah, charmin’, well sung, liddle missy, that was grand, grand!”

  Luglug drained his beaker, wiping a paw across his mouth. “Don’t get too comfortable there, rogue, you’ve got to box a few rounds with Miz Maudie yet.”

  The roguish squirrel sighed. “Shure, I’m too stuffed t’move, an’ I’ve never struck a pretty maid in all me life. Just suppose I slew her wid a single blow, which I’m quite capable of doin’, havin’ laid several o’ me best friends low in that manner. Now I ask ye, who’d ever cook a fine ould meal like we’ve just had, widout the beautiful an’ fascinatin’ Maudie t’do the honours?”

  Luglug lay back, closing his eyes. “I never thought of it that way, mate, yore excused boxin’.”

  Maudie added, “But only if you sing us a song.”

  Rangval leapt to his paws eagerly. “Faith, I thought ye’d never ask, I’ll give ye a ballad that’d have a stone in tears. Silence now for the golden voice o’ the woodlands.” Placing a paw on his heart he began warbling dramatically.

  “As I was lyin’ in me bed the other night,

  sewin’ buttons on an’ scoffin’ skilly pudden,

  when a thought flashed in me mind just like a light,

  Shure bedad, said I, now isn’t that a good ’un!

  “So I hauled me pore ould body off the bed,

  kicked the family frog an’ put me greasy hat on,

  an’ roved forth to take a beneficial walk,

  cos lately I’d been pilin’ too much fat on!

  “Well, I’d not got very far along the way,

  when I met a toad, all big’n’fat’n’warty,

  Oh good evenin’ to ye, sir, meself did say,

  Shut yore gob, said he, which wasn’t very sporty!

  “So I gave him such a smack I laid him low,

  I could see that his ould life was fast a-fadin’,

  He said, take me off this road, call me friends an’ have me towed…

  an’ say you’ll never strike a young haremaiden!”

  Maudie kept a straight face, commenting, “Dreadfully sad tale, wot? So that’s why you had to give up fightin’. Hmmmm. Er, I say, chaps, before we drop off to sleep, what’s the jolly old plan for tomo
rrow? Always supposin’ we have a plan, wot!”

  Barbowla levered himself up on his rudder. “Well o’ course we have, beauty, the plan’s to get to Redwall, safe’n’sound in one piece. Right, Lug?”

  The Guosim Log a Log was already half-asleep, he muttered drowsily, “Sleep first, plan tommorer!”

  Everybeast was in agreement, except Rangval the Rogue. He was up on his paws, pacing and gesticulating. “Shure, an’ is it a plan yore after? Faith, me lucky bhoyos, look no further than meself, aren’t I the grandest ould planner ye ever fell over on a day’s march!”

  Maudie stifled a yawn politely. “Carry on, old thing, the cave floor is yours, what super wheeze have you come up with, wot?”

  Rangval gave up pacing, he sat down sulkily. “Ah, ye can go an’ boil yore dozy tails for all I care. Saved ye from Kurdly an’ his army, didn’t I, brought yez all here unscathed. Hah, an’ that’s all the thanks I gets for me efforts. Here I am, tryin’ to help ye, an’ yore all yawnin’, snorin’ an’ layin’ round like a pile o’ fractured frogs. Well, I’ll keep meself to meself, thank ye kindly, an’ you can all go an’ pickle yore ears an’ boil yore bums, so there. From now on me lips are sealed!”

  Maudie was immediately sorry about their treatment of Rangval. Shaking Luglug and Barbowla into wakefulness, she tried to remedy the situation. “Good grief, sah, please accept our profuse apologies. Confound us for our atrocious bad manners, we never intended hurtin’ your feelings. Moreover we are very grateful for what you’ve done so blinkin’ far. In fact, we’re all bloomin’ ears, please carry on with your excellent scheme, ain’t that right, chaps?”

  Luglug and Barbowla agreed hastily.

  “Right, matey, go on, I’m dyin’ to ’ear yore plan!”

  “Aye, it’ll prob’ly be better’n anythin’ we’d think up!”

  The change in Rangval was like the sun coming from behind a cloud, he beamed cheerfully at them. “Haharr, wait’ll ye hear this, me fine, furry friends. Now, wot ye don’t know is that we’re only a good day’s march from the Abbey, by a secret path known only to meself. But first we’ll have t’get rid o’ those ould boats, huh, can’t be carryin’ them along with us.”

  “Whaaaaat? Get rid of my logboats? Never!”

  Rangval held up his paws, chuckling at Luglug’s reaction. “Ah, shure I don’t mean get rid of ’em altogether, ye’ll get ’em back easy enough when the time comes. But we’ve got to travel light. By the mornin’ Gruntan Kurdly’ll have scouts out all o’er the neighbourhood, searchin’ for us an’ the boats. He’ll be lookin’ to the streams an’ waterways, but we’ll be nowhere near ’em.”

  The shrew chieftain’s face was the picture of misery. “But where’ll my six logboats be?”

  Rangval patted the Guosim shrew’s back. “Not t’worry, me ould tater, they’ll be no more’n a paddle’s length from where ye now stand. See this.” The squirrel went to the cave’s north wall, suddenly shouting, “Now close yore eyes tight, go on, close ’em!” They did as he ordered, there was a minute scraping sound, then Rangval called out, “Ye can open ’em now!”

  Rangval was gone, vanished into thin air.

  Maudie rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “Great seasons, where’s the blighter got to, wot?”

  Rangval’s echoing laugh boomed around the cavern. “Ah shure, I’m right here, me darlin’!” He reappeared, seeming to walk straight out of the wall. They hurried to his side as he revealed all. “It’s another small cave behind this ’un, see this crack in the rock? Well, ye just pull on it, like so.” The whole rock seemed to move slightly, leaving enough room for Rangval to use as a doorway. “An’ that, me ould Luglug, is where we’ll hide yore boats. Aye, an’ all the other tackle, too, cookin’ pots, an’ the like. We need t’cover a lot o’ ground fast in the mornin’, so we’ll be travellin’ light.”

  Maudie nodded. “I see, an’ I take it you’ll be comin’ to Redwall with us?”

  The roguish squirrel raised his eyebrows. “I take it ye’ve never tasted Redwall vittles, or you wouldn’t be askin’ such a foolish ould question. I’m with ye every step o’ the way, me beauty, I wouldn’t miss the chance of nourishin’ me fine body with the good Redwall Abbey cookin’. Right, let’s get everythin’ stowed into the small cave, ready for an early start when day breaks.”

  20

  Out in the woodlands, smoke billowed into the night, heavy smoke, thick and greasy. It came from wet, rotten vegetation, which had been piled onto a big fire. Hornets and wasps would not venture into the befugged area. Coughing, spitting, sneezing and constantly mopping at their eyes, Gruntan Kurdly and his Brownrats crouched around ten of these fires. None of them even resembled Brownrats. Everybeast who had lived through the stinging attack was heavily coated in greeny-black marsh mud.

  Laggle, the old female healer, staggered about, dispensing advice. “Smear it on, thick as ye can, then leave it. No matter ’ow much it itches or stings, leave it. Tomorrer, when that scum an’ ooze hardens up wid the sunlight, it’ll peel off, an’ bring all the stings out along with it.”

  Gruntan had missed most of the body stings by staying submerged in the stream, though his head was swollen and lumpy, where the wasps and hornets had attacked it. Stringle looked for all the world like a rat sculpture in mud, with holes for his eyes, nostrils and mouth.

  Gruntan moved his head in Stringle’s direction, slowly and painfully, he winced as he spoke. “Mim a thormem joo bikkupa pakth.”

  Stringle scraped some mud from his ears. “Wot was that, Boss?”

  Gruntan huffed irately. “A thed, joo bikkup pakth mim a thormem, thoon adda blite!”

  Not wanting to anger his boss further, Stringle whispered to old Laggle the healer, “Do ye think the wasps got down his ears an’ stung ’im in the brains? ’E ain’t makin’ sense!”

  Laggle waddled over to Gruntan, she tapped his chin. “Open yer mouth…wide.”

  Gruntan narrowed his already swollen eyes. “Moperamouff, fworra doodad form?”

  The old healer was a no-nonsense type, she began prising his mouth open. “I said open yore mouth, Kurdly, yore talkin’ rubbish, an’ I want t’see why.” Laggle took a swift peek inside his mouth, blanched at the odour of his breath, then gave her diagnosis. “Hah, no wonder ye can’t talk proper, yore tongue’s been stung, about nine or ten times I’d say, by the blisters on it!”

  Gruntan touched a paw to his tongue, and winced again. “Me thongueth beed thtunged by d’wopth!”

  Laggle shook her head resignedly. “That’s wot I just said! Now, wot did ye want t’say to Stringle?”

  Gruntan made an effort to speak clearly; it failed. “A thode hib doo bikkupa shooth pakth imma thormem!”

  Fortunately, Laggle understood, she translated to Stringle. “He sez ’e told you to pick up the sh’ews tracks, in the mornin’.”

  The mud statue that was Stringle nodded forlornly. “Unnerstood, Boss!” He murmured miserably to Laggle, “Huh, that’s if’n I’m still alive at dawn!”

  Gruntan stirred the fire with a spear, causing fresh billows of stinking smoke to set everybeast hacking and coughing painfully. He crouched low, rubbing both eyes, and muttering darkly. “Wheb I gedd dode lobgoats I’ll bake dode shooth thcreeb f’berthy, ho yeth, h’I bakem thnoddy!”

  Noggo nudged his scout companion, Biklo. “Wot did the boss say just then?”

  Biklo shrugged. “I dunno, but he’ll bring bad luck on us all, usin’ language like that, mate!”

  Noggo licked mud from his muzzle tip, and spat distastefully. “Bring bad luck, does that mean we’ve been havin’ good luck so far?”

  The peace and comfort of the hill cavern was broken by Rangval the Rogue. Dawn had just broken when he marched in briskly. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye all, the sun’s puttin’ on a grand show out there. ’Tis too fine a day t’be snorin’ an snoozin’, right, Maudie, me darlin’?”

  Maudie, who had risen early with the squirrel, strode in, towelling her face dry of streamwater. �
�Right indeed, old lad! Come on, chaps, up on y’paws. Quick’s the word an’ sharp’s the action, wot! Now, we’ve got some jolly hard paw-sloggin’ today, everybeast will be followin’ friend Rangval, who knows the secret route to Redwall. So, with the permission of our Log a Log, an’ Barbowla, I’ll organise the march, wot?”

  Some of the Guosim looked as though they were about to dispute the haremaid’s role (as was customary with shrews) when Luglug rebuked them sternly.

  “The maid’s got my say-so, anybeast wants to argue about the crackin’ o’ hazelnuts, can do so wid me afore we goes further!” The Guosim chieftain allowed one paw to slide down to his rapier hilt. It was sufficient, no shrew wanted to tangle with Luglug. He nodded. “Carry on with yore orders, miz.”

  There was no mistaking the haremaid’s air of command, Major Mullein would have been proud of her. “Pay attention at the back there. We’ll be travellin’ light an’ quiet, fast an’ silent as the bloomin’ breeze, wot! Files o’ four’d be best, don’t get strung out or trailed to one side, keep t’gether, that’s the ticket. Rangval will take the lead, I’ll bring up the rear, Luglug an’ Barbowla to the midflanks, left’n’right. I want everybeast who’s strong an’ able enough to pack a babe on their backs. Sorry about brekkers, Osbil an’ Belford will provide ye with vittles, to munch on the march. All clear, any questions?”

  Kachooch held up her rudder. “Ain’t we allowed to sing as we go? I likes marchin’ songs, Miz Maudie.”

  The haremaid shook her head. “Apologies, marm, I like a jolly good marchin’ song, too, afraid we’ll have to do without ’em. Safety in silence y’know. No more questions? Lead off, Rangval!”

  They left the cavern, emerging into the calm summer morn. Maudie listened to the distant trill of birds, the murmur of the nearby stream, and the swish of dew-laden grass underpaw. She kept her wits about her, and her eyes focused into the surrounding woodland. This was not at all an easy task, as she was trying to eat breakfast, a fine yellow pear, some shrewbread and a small amount of hard cheese.