Eulalia!

by Brian Jacques

  That night, by the light of the fire, she sang unaccompanied in a flat monotone the words she had put together for her former boss. The others wolfed hard-boiled eggs, some for the first time, as they listened to the dirge.

  “O come listen, ye Brownrats, take heed o’ my words,

  all about Gruntan Kurdly our chief,

  for he stood fat an’ tall,

  well respected by all,

  as a murderin’, plunderin’ thief!

  Kurdly rose through the ranks, with his foul, wicked pranks,

  but his stomach grew greater than he,

  an’ his awful downfall, I’ll relate to youse all,

  was he loved hard-boiled eggs for his tea!

  He had every bird flappin’ round, lookin’ scared,

  as he hunted for eggs without rest,

  an’ against every wish, he would never eat fish,

  Gruntan Kurdly craved eggs from the nest!

  ’Til one fatal day, O it grieves me to say,

  that his greed got the better of him,

  he set his sights on the fine egg of a swan,

  that he thought had gone out for a swim!

  Thinkin’ that he knew best, Kurdly swam to the nest,

  where the bird sat with its family,

  ‘There’s a rat at the door, Ma,’ the little ’uns cried,

  ‘an’ he’s after some eggs for his tea!’

  Mrs. Swan in a huff, lookin’ rowdy an’ tough,

  honked, ‘Come here now, ye fat, thievin’ rat!’

  An’ with many a blow, she laid pore Kurdly low,

  just by usin’ her beak like a bat!

  Now against Kurdly’s wishes, he’s feedin’ the fishes,

  they’re nibblin’ his ears, snout an’ legs,

  but his ghost’s at Hellgates, where I’m tellin’ ye, mates,

  ’tis a place where they don’t serve boiled eggs!”

  In the silence which followed the dirge, the Brownrats sat gazing into the fire. Noggo, who was forced to sit apart from the rest, owing to the stench of rotten eggs which clung to his fur, sniffed brokenly. “We’ll never get anudder boss like ole Gruntan.”

  Laggle cackled. “Not if’n we’re lucky we won’t!”

  Noggo’s companion Biklo, the other scout, spread his paws in bewilderment. “But without the boss, wot are we goin’ t’do about Stringle an’ all the others?”

  Laggle tossed more wood on the fire, she stared around at the company in disbelief. “Look at ye all, are ye dull, daft or just dozy? Who needs a boss anymore, or did ye enjoy carryin’ Kurdly everywhere on yore backs! The great, bullyin’ lard barrel, he’s gone now, an’ good riddance, sez I. Hah, as for Stringle an’ the rest, let ’em get on with it. If’n they likes fightin’ an’ warrin’, then I’ll be the lastbeast to stop ’em, aye, or join ’em!”

  The leaderless Brownrats sat openmouthed, taken aback by the old ratwife’s attitude.

  Noggo rose, pacing about in agitation. “But…but…wot are we goin’ to do?”

  Young Duggerlo suddenly blurted out, “Anythin’ we wants to, that’s wot!”

  Laggle rocked back and forth, cackling wildly. “Heeheeheehee! There’s a rat with more brains than the lot of ye. Lissen to ’im, ye thick’eaded clods! Ye don’t ’ave t’do anythin’ fer Gruntan fattygut Kurdly no more, he’s deader’n a fried frog. Ye can please yoreselves wot ye do, yore free!”

  Biklo scratched his head hard. “An’ wot are you goin’ t’do, old ’un?”

  Laggle snuggled down by the fire. “Me? I’m goin’ to sleep late in the mornin’. An’ I ain’t movin’ from ’ere. I likes these watermeadows, there’s everythin’ I needs right ’ere. Water, vittles, long, sunny days an’ nobeast to give me orders!”

  Duggerlo smiled. “I’m with ye, granny!”

  The rest of the company were quick to agree.

  “Aye, me, too, no giant stripe’ound’s gonna slay me!”

  “Right, mate, we can boil eggs for ourselves from now on!”

  “Haharr, I’m goin’ to break Kurdly’s litter up, an’ make a nice liddle shelter out of it!”

  “You do that, mate, I’m sure ole Gruntan won’t object.”

  “Aye, Kurdly’s boss o’ the fishes now, wonder wot they think of ’im?”

  Laggle replied between cackles, “Heeheehee, they prob’ly think the boss tastes a bit eggy. Heeheeheehee!”

  34

  Stringle backed nervously away from the band of Bludgullet vermin, as their captain, Vizka, advanced, his long fangs showing in a broad smile.

  “Don’t be frightened, friend, I only wants ta talk.”

  Stringle blustered to hide his fear. “I ain’t frightened of ye, fox, I’m cap’n of Gruntan Kurdly’s Brownrats, we chased you up the ditch, remember?”

  The golden fox continued smiling. “Aye, but it was us who chased yew down der ditch first.” He shoved the magnificent sword he was carrying into his waist sash, and hung the mace and chain, which he was also armed with, across his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I ain’t here ta harm ye. We both wants ta put an end to dose creatures up dere on de rocks. So why don’t me’n’yew join forces, we’d stan’ a better chance together, don’t ya t’ink?”

  Stringle backed off farther, holding up a paw. “Wait.” Grabbing a nearby Brownrat, he muttered furiously to him, “Get back to the boss, quick as ye can. Tell ’im I needs ’im ’ere, urgent!” Stringle turned back to the fox, who was lounging casually against a poplar. “Er, ’ow many warriors do ye have, we’ve got an ’orde.”

  Vizka chuckled, enjoying the Brownrat’s discomfort. “A horde, eh, dat could mean any number. I got enough to ’elp out ’ere. Wot d’ya say, Cap’n?”

  Stringle hesitated. “Er, I dunno…. I mean, I’ll ’ave to wait an’ see wot Gruntan Kurdly sez.”

  Welcome paws reached out, helping the Guosim up onto the plateau. Osbil dispensed with greetings, joining Maudie and Rangval in a parrying movement against the Bludgullet vermin who were scaling the rim behind them.

  “Drive those scum back, mates. Logalogalogaloooog!” Half the Guosim joined the charge, the remainder staying with the two badgers to defend the front edge of the plateau. The Sea Raiders were taken off guard by the wild sally, it was not long before the defenders had full control of the table-shaped sandstone top.

  Introductions were made until Salixa was acquainted with everybeast. Gorath clasped Osbil’s paw. “That was a brave charge you made, those Brownrats had you well outnumbered, you did well to break through.”

  The Guosim Log a Log sheathed his rapier. “What happened to young Orkwil?”

  Maudie shrugged ruefully. “Can’t say, old lad, one moment he was with me’n’Rangval, next thing he was gone. We’re tryin’ not to think the worst about him.”

  Rangval let his tail droop mournfully. “Ah, there’s only one reason a pore creature goes missin’ in the midst of a fight. Orkwil was a good little feller, I’ll miss him, so I will!”

  Maudie chaffed the rogue squirrel. “Come on, you old misery, tails up, wot! Look on the bright side, Orkwil might be fine an’ well!”

  Salixa turned in a slow arc, taking in the whole plateau. “Yes, let’s hope he is. Meanwhile, we have other things to consider before this affair is over.”

  Osbil looked up from sharpening his rapier. “Wot sort o’ things, miz?”

  One of the Guosim, a gruff-mannered old shrew, snorted. “We ain’t ’ere t’think, missy, us Guosim are ’ere to fight!”

  Gorath silenced him with a severe glance. “Listen to what Salixa has to say, she has learned much from the Tabura, and does not talk just to hear the sound of her own voice.”

  Osbil tested the edge of his blade by licking it. “Aye, be quiet an’ let’s hear wot she has t’say.”

  The slender badgermaid did not have to raise her voice. There was a calmness about her as she spoke. “The one good thing to come out of this is that the Abbey need not fear attack. The enemies of Redwall are surrounding us at t
he moment, they cannot turn their backs on our force, small as it is. However, we are cut off up here, and outnumbered by Brownrats and the sea vermin. So, I think our main concern for the moment is, how do we defend our position?” By Salixa’s tone, she was obviously looking for suggestions.

  Rangval peered over the sandstone rim. “Sure, ’twas a charge that got these shrews up here, couldn’t we make a grand ould stampede back down agin?”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the Guosim, who were always headstrong, and ready for a fight.

  Maudie shook her head. “Bad idea, old chap, not good form!”

  The rogue squirrel deferred to the haremaid. “Well, it’s the best I can do for ye, me darlin’. Though bein’ a member o’ that Long Patrol from Salamandastron, I suppose ye’ll know a thing or two about warfare. So, Maudie me gel, wot’s yore plan?”

  Smiling ruefully, the haremaid scratched one ear. “Actually, I haven’t got a single bloomin’ idea. But let’s see if I can’t think this thing out, the way Major Mullein would. Right, how are we in the jolly old weapons department? Osbil?”

  The Guosim chieftain gave his estimate. “Slings’n’stones aplenty, an’ everybeast’s carryin’ a blade. There’s a few spears we picked up from the vermin, an’ few spare pikes an’ axes. Oh, an’ we’ve got almost a score o’ bows, but not so many arrows. Apart from Gorath’s great pitchfork, that’s about it!”

  Maudie began pacing slowly, back and forth. “More important right now, what’s the position on food an’ drink?”

  Salixa interrupted. “Food and drink, why is that more important than weapons?”

  Maudie was back into thinking like a Long Patrol hare now, she gave Salixa a quick salute. “Stan’ corrected, miz, I should’ve said food’n’drink is as important as weapons, allow me to explain myself. Never underestimate the foebeast, y’see. Vermin are crafty blighters, wot! They’re down below, where they can jolly well forage for vittles in the woodlands, and of course there’s always water, streams an’ such, down there. Meanwhile, here’s poor old us, stuck on flippin’ top of a stretch o’ bare rock. Osbil, old scout, have ye sorted out how much fodder we’ve got, eh?”

  Osbil beckoned to one of the Guosim cooks, who answered glumly. “Nothin’ much, a few apples, two wheat-loaves, a hunk o’ hard cheese, an’ three canteens, two of water, an’ one o’ shrewbeer. That’s all. I didn’t think we was goin’ t’be away from the Abbey for too long.”

  Maudie carried on with her summary, to Salixa. “So there you have it, miz, virtually no rations at all. If those vermin cads down there happen t’make an educated guess, we’re deadbeasts. They can lay siege to this plateau, which means do nothin’ really, just lay about, eatin’ an’ drinkin’. They’ll fire off the odd stone, or arrow, to keep our heads low. But in the end they’ll starve us down. Either that, or wait’ll we’re too weak to fight back, then we’ll be overrun an’ slaughtered by the bounders. Pretty grim, wot?”

  Rangval rubbed his stomach. “Grim, y’say, it sounds awful. Shure, I’m startin’ t’feel hungry right now, an’ I could do with an ould drop to wet me lips. ’Tis goin’ t’get hot up here!”

  Salixa tweaked the rogue squirrel’s ear lightly. “Well, that sort of talk isn’t doing anybeast a bit of good. The more we forget food, the less hungry we’re likely to be!”

  Rangval was forced to agree. “The very thought that just leapt into me own foolish ould mind, miz. But wot in the name o’ seasons do we do, just sit up here an’ wait t’get starved or slayed t’death? I’m not the one t’be doin’ that in a hurry!”

  Maudie knew she was clutching at straws, but a faint idea had formed in her mind. “I say, chaps, suppose we take the battle to the vermin from up here? What I mean is, we keep our heads well down, whilst keepin’ a strong eye peeled on the villains, an’ pick ’em off one by flippin’ one, wot!”

  Osbil unwound the sling from about his waist. “Let’s do that, ’tis better’n sittin’ up here twiddlin’ our paws. Guosim, split up into four groups. Rigril, take yours to the rear. Teagle an’ Frenna, you take your crews either side, t’the north an’ south. I’ll stay here at the front with my lot. How’ll that do for ye, Maudie?”

  Lying down flat, the haremaid peered over the rim to the woodlands below. “Aye, mate, let’s see how much damage we can cause. Use slingstones an’ bows, but go easy with the arrows, we’re a bit short of shafts.”

  Lying alongside Maudie, Osbil shielded his eyes, peering intently at the scene below. “Wot’s goin’ on down there, between those two black poplars? Looks like some sort o’ meetin’, can’t see ’em properly. You take a peek.”

  Maudie watched carefully, though her view, like Osbil’s, was obscured by the dense poplar foliage. “Hmm, looks like Brownrats an’ some o’ the other vermin t’me. Let’s wait an’ see if they show their scruffy faces a bit clearer, wot!”

  Vizka Longtooth was still silently enjoying Stringle’s embarrassment, though he hid it well. Crouching down with his back to the poplar trunk, he feigned a yawn. “Where’s dis boss o’ yores gotten to, huh? I’m growin’ old, hangin’ round waitin’ fer ’im.”

  Stringle paced back and forth, wracked by indecision. “Well, there ain’t nothin’ for it, Cap’n Longtooth, I’ve got me orders from Gruntan Kurdly ’isself, an’ I’ve got t’wait on ’is word for any change in plans.”

  Vizka toyed with the pommel stone of his beautiful sword. “Well said, Cap’n Stringle, but I can’t wait ferever. Wot were dese orders Kurdly gave ya?”

  Stringle explained. “To slay those stripe’ounds, an’ bring their ’eads back to the boss, on spearpoints.”

  The golden fox replied in a cheery tone, “Der very t’ing I wuz plannin’ t’do! Lissen, mate, t’wouldn’t do no harm fer us t’join forces an’ get der job done. I’m sure ya boss’d be pleased, eh?”

  However, Stringle continued hesitating, walking to and fro, trying to put Vizka off until the arrival of Kurdly.

  On the rim of the plateau, Osbil peered down, his voice rising with excitement. “That’s the Brownrat’s officer, Stringle. Look, there he is now, wanderin’ in an’ out o’ the poplars!”

  Maudie could see the Brownrat down below, moving in and out of the covering foliage. “Indeed, that’ll be the very blighter. But why’s he so jolly important?”

  Osbil gritted his teeth. “’Cos he’s the one who was leadin’ the gang wot chased ye that night, you’n liddle Yik, an’ our ole Log a Log. That scum must be the one who was responsible for my father’s death. My Guosim told me Gruntan Kurdly didn’t arrive at the south wall ’til long after you’n Yik made it inside the Abbey. Aye, he’s the one who has to pay, gimme a bow, somebeast, an’ a good, straight shaft!”

  An older shrew passed Osbil his bow. “Try mine, Chief, ’tis the best bow in our tribe. Wait whilst I find ye a decent arrow.” Sorting through his quiver, he selected one. Holding it to his eye, the older shrew sighted along the shaft, checking it. “Aye, this is a good ’un, straight’n’true. I made it meself out o’ sessile oak, fletched it with a white gull feather, tipped it with best flint.”

  As Osbil set the shaft on the bowstring, Salixa joined him and Maudie, judging the target. “If you don’t mind me saying, that will be a very hard shot to make. I know a little archery, would you like me to try?”

  Osbil shook his head stubbornly. “No, miz, I won’t be indebted to anybeast, ’tis my shot!”

  Maudie whispered to Salixa, “Family honour an’ all that, y’know, touchy types, these Guosim chaps, wot!”

  They held their breath as Osbil hauled back on his bowstring. He sighted a moment, then dropped his paws with a snort of frustration. “Blood’n’fur, he’s moved back into the trees. I’ll have to wait for him to show himself agin!”

  Salixa knelt by Osbil’s side, advising him calmly, “Loosen up a little, you’re too tense. That’s better! Now, don’t wait until the rat’s right out in the open. Wait until you see him show, then fire your shaft slightly ahead of h
is position, aim at the spot where his next pace will place him. Now, pull back your bowstring in one movement, smoothly. That’s right…. Fire!”

  Vizka was beginning to lose patience with Stringle, who was still dithering over a decision, afraid to commit himself. “If’n ’twas up to me, I’d join ye right away, Cap’n Longtooth, but I’ve got to wait fer Grunt…” The Brownrat gave a strange gurgle and sat down. He swayed for a moment, then slumped forward, still in the sitting position.

  Vizka had witnessed sudden death many times, he immediately dropped flat, calling to his crew, who were waiting nearby. “Git down, we’re bein’ fired on!”

  Everybeast hugged the ground, waiting. After awhile it became apparent that no attack was being mounted. On his captain’s command, the stoat, Patchy, crawled across to inspect Stringle.

  “Deader’n a cold stone, Cap’n, de arrer went right atwixt ’is eyes. Dat’s a fair birra shootin’ from atop o’ dose rocks!”

  The golden fox spat at Stringle’s carcass. “Saved me a job, I was gonna slay ’im meself. Dat fool was holdin’ t’ings up. Right, Patchy, Dogleg, Ragchin an’ Jungo! Git round to dose Brownrats, tell ’em Cap’n Stringle wants a werd wid dem.”

  Jungo looked at Stringle’s slumped form. “But Cap’n, dat ’un can’t say a werd to anybeast no more.”

  Vizka fixed the dull-witted weasel with a deadly smile. “Aye, an’ yew won’t either if’n ya don’t do like I says!”

  Rangval pounded Osbil’s back. “I knew ye could do it, mate, shure it was a grand shot, so ’twas, clean as a whistle!”

  Maudie shook her shrew friend by his paw. “Well done, sah! That’s one rascal whose murderin’ days are over, wot! So, how does it feel, bucko? You’ve done what you wished, put paid to your dear old dad’s killer.”

  Osbil passed the bow back to its owner, commenting, “Too far off t’feel anything, miz. Wish I could’ve met the rat face-to-face, an’ paw-to-paw, made him beg for mercy afore I slayed him!”

  Surprised by his vehemence, Maudie shook her head. “Golly, you’re a savage young feller, Osbil.”