Eulalia!

by Brian Jacques

  Gorath could see Salixa beginning to wince, he had unconsciously tightened his grip on her paw. Embarrassed, he quickly released her, changing the subject. “Enough about me. What about you? I’ll wager you can sing.”

  She nodded. “I like to sing, but quietly, to myself. Sometimes I have sung for the Tabura, he enjoys my voice. Would you like me to sing for you?”

  Gorath closed his eyes, afraid to look her way. “I could think of nothing I’d like better.”

  Everybeast heard the plaintive sweet voice, which, though gentle, seemed to radiate around the plateau.

  “Let me wander here forever, through the glades

  where once I played,

  Long ago in carefree seasons, mid the noontide

  sun and shade.

  I will see again before me, all those smiling

  friends I knew,

  gone alas to memory’s keeping, faithful comrades

  good and true.

  Oh, those days of youth and splendour, when we

  dreamed of glorious war,

  vows were made to keep forever, and return back

  here once more.

  Then the clouds began to gather, winter came,

  we marched away,

  singing songs of love and valour, off we went

  into the fray.

  Comes a warrior returning, to old autumn’s gold-

  clad trees,

  where the leaves do fall like teardrops, on the

  gently sighing breeze.

  Casting sword and shield aside now, I stand

  weary and forlorn,

  in the silence of the woodlands, I will rest

  until the dawn.

  Let me sleep and dream forever, of the golden

  days of yore,

  and those friends who marched off with me,

  who’ll return alas no more.”

  Gorath opened his eyes. Gazing into the embers of the fire, he murmured, “I’ve never heard a song so sad and beautiful, where did you learn it?”

  Drawing her cloak closer, Salixa lay down to rest. “The Tabura taught it to me, he said it was something he had written a long time ago.”

  Gorath closed his eyes again. “Your Tabura is a wise and wonderful creature. I would like to spend some time with him—say, a few seasons. I’m sure he would have much to teach me.”

  The badgermaid paused before speaking again. “He was only my Tabura for a certain time. Now I will never see him again, and nor will you, friend.”

  Gorath was mystified. “How do you know this?”

  Salixa replied, “Because he told me that the parting of our ways would come when we reached Redwall Abbey. I was sad at first, but the Tabura explained. He said that he had taught me many things, now it was my turn to go out into the world, to teach and help others. He also knew you and I would meet on the western plain, not far from Redwall, because we were destined to travel together, while he lived out his days at the Abbey. Now I know what he meant, I am sad no longer. I have you to look after. Sleep now, Gorath the Flame.”

  Gorath obeyed her. He did not know what to think, he was happy, quite puzzled, but certain he would never leave Salixa’s side. They both slept then, the badgermaid to her own dreams and Gorath to his. Visions of heroic and wise warriors visited them both as they dwelt in the Halls of Slumber. Martin the Redwall Abbey Warrior, the Tabura, Lord Asheye and one whom Gorath recognised as his long-dead father. Each had their own special message to impart to the young badgers, each had a different instruction for Salixa and Gorath.

  Maudie found she could not sleep, the feeling of impending battle on the morrow hung over her. Also, sleep was out of the question with Rangval close by, snoring like two wild hogs guzzling soup. She went and relieved a couple of Guosim sentries at the plateau rim, where she was joined by Barbowla’s sturdy wife, Kachooch. The otterwife winked at her knowingly.

  “For somebeasts like us, sleep’s hard t’come by on a night like this, Miz Maudie.”

  The haremaid nodded. “Indeed it is, marm, an’ twice as hard with a rogue squirrel snorin’ nearby.”

  Kachooch chuckled quietly. “Aye, an’ maybe thrice as hard bein’ surrounded by shrews with growly stummicks. I thought the battle had already started with all the noise that gang was makin’. Have ye been in many battles afore, Maudie?”

  Keeping her gaze on the glow from the distant campfires, Maudie answered, “Oh, one or two y’know, pretty difficult to avoid skirmishin’ bein’ a fightin’ hare o’ the Long Patrol. Tell me, marm, d’you think those vermin fires are beginnin’ to die down, or are they still as bright?”

  The otterwife peered hard at the distant glow. “I’d say they’ve died down a mite, why d’ye ask?”

  Maudie explained, “If the fires are allowed t’burn low, that usually means the vermin are sleepin’. But if they burn fresh’n’bright, that means they’re jolly well up to some mischief.”

  Kachooch scratched her rudder. “What sort o’ mischief?”

  It was the haremaid’s turn to wink at the otterwife. “It’s an old trick, marm, pretty stupid one if you ask me. If the rascals want to sneak up an’ ambush us in the dark, they always leave a couple of vermin behind, to keep the fires burnin’ bright. Just so we’ll think they’re still in camp.”

  The otterwife was puzzled. “Doesn’t sound too stupid t’me.”

  Maudie tapped the side of her head. “Think. Who’d stay awake on a summer night, to pile wood on fires? Wouldn’t it be more sensible to sleep before the battle, like our chaps are doin’ right now?”

  Kachooch grinned. “Yore right, of course, but if’n ’tis more sensible t’sleep, why are we sittin’ here wide awake?”

  Maudie shrugged. “I suppose because the most highly sensible of us has to stay alert, to watch the foe.”

  Kachooch shook with silent mirth as she cast an eye over the snoring plateau defenders. “Don’t say much for that lot, do it?”

  Maudie smiled. “Indeed it doesn’t. Let’s hope the blinkin’ vermin types are snorin’ their thick heads off twice as flippin’ hard, wot!”

  At the vermin camp, the Brownrats were complying with Maudie’s wish. However, Vizka and his cohorts were wide awake, the golden fox was explaining his plans for the battle. “Lissen, mateys, we’ve got der Brownrats on our side now. If’n we kin get dem up on dat rock tommorer dey’ll slaughter dem Abbeybeasts, der Brownrats’ll ’ave ’em far outnumbered.”

  Ragchin ventured an opinion. “I was t’inkin’, Cap’n, wot if’n dis Gruntin’ Kurly shows up before de attack, wot then?”

  “Gudd question, bucko, ’ere’s wot ya do. Yew keep Kurly talkin’ ’til I gets be’ind ’im…” Vizka brandished his mace and Martin’s sword under Ragchin’s scruffy beard. “Den jus’ leave ’im t’me!”

  The small crewrat Firty wanted to know more about his role in the coming fray. “Wot ja want us t’do, Cap’n, lead der charge?”

  Vizka beckoned them closer, dropping his voice. “No, Firty, mate, I wants youse, dat’s yerself, Dogleg, Ragchin, Patchy an’ Bilger, ta stick close t’me. I’ve told de other crewbeasts ta go up the rock wid der Brownrats, dey should be able ta do der job.” He looked from one to the other of the chosen five. “But jus’ in case dey don’t, or if’n everythin’ goes wrong, youse are de ones I trusts, ter get me away safe, see!”

  Bilger, who was the slowest witted, enquired, “Er, getcha away, Cap’n, where to?”

  Vizka looked as if he were going to strike Bilger for his stupidity, but he smiled, patting the stoat’s cheek good-naturedly. “Off through dese trees, to dat path we came down. Back up it dis time, to the Bludgullet!”

  Bilger chuckled. “Oh, d’ship, I’d fergot about dat!”

  Patchy nudged him roughly. “But der cap’n ’ad’nt.”

  Vizka winked at Patchy. “Right, mate. A good cap’n always takes care of ’is trusty crew, yore d’ones I chose ta go wid me. Now lissen, youse all keep t’der rear wid me, we’ll take care of any backsliders wo
t doesn’t join in der charge. Like I said, we should win ’cos we’ve got der numbers on our side. But, if’n somethin’ does go wrong, ye’ll ’ear me shout dis. ‘Fight on, me brave buckoes!’ Dat’s der signal, we leaves ’em to it an’ makes for der ship. Hah, dere’s plenty of other ways to de easy life, we’ll sail off to der far south t’see wot der pickin’s are like, eh, mates?”

  The five vermin agreed readily, happy they would not have to fight, and maybe die, with the rest.

  Ragchin spoke for them all. “We’re wid ya, Cap’n!”

  Vizka nodded. “Right, we’ll set off for der rock just afore dawn. One good charge’ll catch ’em still nappin’. Firty, tell Glurma to keep two Brownrats back. Dey can keep der fires goin’ so ’twill look like we’re layin’ about eatin’ brekkist.”

  Firty went off to find old Glurma, shaking his head in admiration at Vizka. The golden fox had thought of everything, he was a smartbeast sure enough.

  36

  Dawn broke in a gray haze, without a single ray of sunlight, or wisp of breeze. It was like an autumn day instead of late summer. Swathes of fine drizzle dampened the woodlands, causing heavy mist to rise amid the trees. Maudie stood at the edge of the plateau with Rangval and Osbil, surveying the scene below, the rogue squirrel spoke in hushed tones.

  “Shure, will ye look at it? I’ll wager ye couldn’t see yore paw behind ye in all that fog!”

  Maudie reprimanded him smartly. “Yes sah, but we’re not lookin’ for that. If we’re not jolly well wide awake an’ alert, ’tis quite likely we’ll find ourselves ambushed an’ overrun by the bally enemy, wot. So keep those eyes peeled!”

  Kachooch came hurrying over, from where she had been standing with the haremaid during the night. “Miz Maud, I can see the campfires glowin’ bright, even through this mist!”

  Osbil scowled sourly as his stomach rumbled. “Aye, that’s ’cos that scum down there ain’t short o’ vittles, they’re prob’ly cookin’ brekkist.”

  Maudie licked at the drizzling rain which clung to her lips. “No such thing, bucko, this is it, stand fast the buffs, ’tis death before dinner. Right, now, you chaps have a word with our badger chums, then put the word about quietly. Muster to the edges in full fightin’ order. Let’s see if we can’t turn the ambush on the confounded vermin, wot!”

  Vizka Longtooth drew his cloak close, against the prevailing drizzle. He sheltered in the bushes, surrounded by his chosen aides. Raindrops glistened on his fangs. “Dis is perfect for der surprise attack, no wind, rain, fog. Dey won’t know wot hit ’em. Dogleg, Patchy, go an’ tell ’em t’start the first wave climbin’. Once dey’re outta sight, send der second lot up. Don’t fergit, tell ’em ta keep silent. Now go!”

  With ten of the Bludgullet’s crew to lead them, and another ten at the rear to urge them on, half of the Brownrat horde began scrambling up toward the plateau. They were a barbaric sight, daubed with plant dyes, armed with primitive spears and clubs, escorted by the vermin Sea Raiders. Once they were about a third of the way up, the second wave came in their wake, with the remainder of Vizka’s crew shepherding them.

  The going was not easy, with rocks made slippery by the drizzle, and any patches of earth rendered slick and muddy. The Sea Raiders, fearing their captain’s wrath, urged the Brownrats on. Trying not to betray their position by shouting, they swiped out with the flats of their blades, muttering, “Git movin’, ya big, dumb savages, c’mon, shift yer paws!” and “Ahoy there, bucko, no back-slidin’, up y’go!”

  Gorath patrolled the defenders on the plateau rim, checking that their weapons were at the ready. He was accompanied by Salixa and Maudie, both of whom had armed themselves with slings. The haremaid could see that the Guosim were eager for action, so she constantly cautioned them.

  “Don’t go hurlin’ stones, spears or arrows until you can actually see the blighters. All this fog an’ mist can create false impressions, y’know.”

  A young shrew twirled his sling restlessly. “I know, marm, I keep thinkin’ I kin see their ugly mugs comin’ at me through the mist, but it ain’t nothin’. Plays tricks wid the eyes, all this fog.”

  Maudie patted the young warrior’s shoulder. “You’ll be alright, just trust your own best judgement. Don’t worry, we’re all a bit edgy, wot!”

  Rangval loomed up chuckling. “Ah well, ’tis no surprise we’re edgy. Sure, aren’t we standin’ on the edge here?”

  The haremaid half-grinned. “Oh, very droll indeed, sah…” At the sight of a painted Brownrat face materialising out of the fog behind Rangval, she whirled her sling.

  However, Gorath the Flame was even quicker. Leaping forward he thrust his pitchfork, catching the Brownrat in the throat. The vermin vanished with a horrible gurgle.

  Like lightning, the war cries of the defenders rang out. “Eulaliiiiaaaaa! Logalogalogaloooooog!”

  They were echoed by the advancing horde. “Kurdly Kurdly kill kill kill! Blood’n’bones! Hahaaaarr!”

  The battle was on.

  Maudie was everywhere at once, swinging a loaded sling at vermin heads, stamping and kicking at paws that came over the top, yelling like a wildbeast. “Yaaarrr! Blood’n’vinegar, chaps!”

  Rangval, with a dagger in either paw, scuttled, crouching crablike as he circled the rim, stabbing out left and right. “Arrah, step up, ye villains, an’ meet the rogue!”

  Osbil saw a shrew take a spear through his heart, the Guosim chieftain ran to fill the gap as his comrade fell. His rapier weaved a flashing pattern in the ceaseless drizzle as he carved and thrust, howling aloud. “S’death to ye, vermin, an’ I’m the beast to bring it! Logalogalooooog!”

  Salixa tried to keep at Gorath’s side, fearing that he might take the Bloodwrath and fling himself over at the enemy. The huge, young badger was a fearsome sight, often he would cast Tung, his pitchfork, to one side, and grab a vermin from the edge. Lifting the foebeast high above his head, he would hurl him, screaming, into the mist-filled void. Salixa felt the rain driving on one side of her face, she called out in her excitement, “A wind is springing up!”

  Maudie whooped. “Eulaliiiaaaa! That’ll shift this bloomin’ mist, wot! Come on, you vermin, let’s see your foul faces. Come and face us!”

  Like a magical spell, the driving wind cleared the air. Rangval groaned. “I wish ye hadn’t said that, me darlin’, just look at this mob comin’ up at us!”

  Brownrats and crew vermin could be clearly seen now, swarming up the cliffsides in their masses. There was enough of the enemy to swamp the plateau twice over. Maudie was beyond reason in her mad fury. She battered away with a captured Brownrat spear, roaring, “Yaaahaaar, let’s see how many of ’em we can take with us, make ’em pay a dear price for this rock!”

  Vizka Longtooth stepped out from the brush cover, his teeth bared in a triumphal grin as he turned to look at the plateau, where vermin were starting to clamber up onto the flat summit. “Guts’n’ ’ellsteeth, dey’ve made it!”

  Almost half of the first wave were on top, the second wave were only a short distance from joining them. Ragchin performed a little dance of delight. “Ya did it, Cap’n, we’re winnin’. Yeeehoooo!”

  A crew member, who was leaping up onto the plateau, heard Ragchin’s shout. He turned, waving his blade, roaring back down to his shipmate, “Yeeeeh—”

  Vizka saw him topple forward, with an arrow through him. The golden fox stared at Ragchin. “Wot’s goin’ on up dere?”

  From behind him a bloodcurdling war cry rang out. “Redwaaaaaaaalllllll!”

  It was Orkwil Prink and Abbot Daucus, heading the largest, most motley crowd of creatures ever assembled outside of Redwall Abbey. Scores of squirrel archers were sending flights of arrows zipping into the climbing vermin. These squirrels stayed in the upper treetops, moving neither backward or forward. In serried ranks upon the boughs they kept a constant shower of shafts, winging like angry wasps, dealing death widespread into the enemy. Moles, hedgehogs, mice, otters and more shrews, wielding a staggeri
ng array of makeshift weapons, came bulling through bush and shrub, howling fiercely. “Redwaaaaaaalllllll! Redwaaaaaaaallllll!”

  Some crewbeasts and Brownrats came hurrying back to where Vizka was standing with his aides. The weasel named Jungo was clearly perplexed. He stared dully at the golden fox.

  “We was up dere, Cap’n, I t’ink we was winnin’, den arrows started bringin’ our beasts down. Who is it, Cap’n, wot’s all der shoutin’ about?”

  Vizka laughed, he shook Jungo by the paw, and moved among the others patting backs and nodding. “It ain’t nothin’, friends, I’ll take care of it!” He gave a significant wink to Ragchin and the others. Gesturing Jungo to go back to attacking the plateau, Vizka called aloud, “Fight on! Fight on, me brave buckoes!” As Jungo and the Brownrats charged off to do his bidding, Vizka whispered to his five crewbeasts, “Time ta get outta dis place, take me ta the Bludgullet!”

  The tide had turned on top of the plateau, now there were not so many vermin about. Maudie glanced down at those who were about halfway up. They had retreated from being a hairsbreadth from their goal, they seemed bewildered. Vizka Longtooth’s shouts urged them to go forward, he was waving sword and mace as he called for them to fight on. However, the victory cries of vengeful Guosim shrews, and the carcasses of vermin hurtling down on them, swiftly decided their course of action. They turned and fled in retreat, attempting to avoid their new assailants. The shouts of the Redwall supporters were everywhere. It was retribution time for Sea Raiders and the once-feared Brownrats of Gruntan Kurdly.

  The fire of battle was in the blood of Mad Maudie (the Hon.) Mugsberry Thropple. She feinted with a right uppercut, and dealt a double flying footpaw kick to a large, fat Brownrat, who shot off into empty space with a despairing wail.

  Rangval shook her paw cheerily. “We’re saved, me darlin’, look at ’em, the grand ould gang, an’ wid our Orkwil leadin’ the charge like the hero he is!”