Mariel Of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  The two shrews Mikla and Flann waded out to the Waveblade to take her out of the searats’ reach with the other three ships.

  Mariel, Tarquin and Rawnblade followed Durry and Dandin as they raced off in the opposite direction to Bladegirt, towards the sheer rocky coast which veered up on the west side of the cove.

  The searat frontrunners, with Riptung and Hookfin in the lead, came rushing down the path to the shore of the cove.

  Riptung threw his sword down in frustration. ‘Hell’s tail! They’re too far out, we’ll never get to ’em now!’

  Hookfin raced about on the shoreline, searching for a dinghy to pursue his ship in. ‘Thunder ’n’ blood! Ain’t there nothin’ we can give chase in?’

  An enterprising rat called Felltooth stripped off his more cumbersome weapons, thrust a dagger in his headband and entered the water.

  ‘Waveblade’s not too far out, Cap’n Riptung. May’aps we can swim to ’er an’ use ’er to bring back the other three ships!’

  Riptung retrieved his sword. ‘That’s the way, matey. Some of yer go with ’im. Any good swimmers?’

  Seven searats gripping daggers in their teeth waded into the sea.

  Hookfin pointed in the direction of the crude trail which led up into the high rocks. ‘Look, it’s the badger!’

  Dandin glanced down to the yelling hordes racing across the shore to the rocks. ‘We’ve been spotted, here they come!’

  Lord Rawnblade set his back against a rock, raising the sword Verminfate in both paws. ‘Get running, I’ll stop them!’

  Dandin stood in front of the upraised sword. Rawnblade was beginning to breathe heavily, his eyes glazing over as he watched the searats below. The young mouse took the badger’s paw.

  ‘There’s no. need for you to stay. Come with us. They’ll never find us – you’ll see!’

  The badger Lord took considerable moving, all four tugging and pushing him further up the trail and behind an overhanging outcrop of rocks, where they were out of sight of the rats. Durry went across to a big craggy boulder. He pushed it, moving it easily to one side. Tarquin gasped in astonishment at the tunnel that yawned before them.

  ‘Golly! That’s jolly clever, Durry – a secret tunnel. How did y’manage to move that whackin’ great boulder with one single shove?’

  Durry swelled his chest out. ‘I ate a good breakf’st.’

  Dandin laughed. ‘Take no notice of that little fibber. Come inside and I’ll show you how easy it is.’

  They filed into the tunnel, Rawnblade stooping to get his great size through the opening. Dandin was last in. Quickly he set flint and tinder to a dry brush torch and passed it to Mariel. ‘Hold this and watch.’

  Leaning out of the cave entrance, Dandin gave the boulder a light push and sprang back. The massive rock tottered slightly and rolled back into its former position, blocking the tunnel entrance. He took a wedge of ship’s timber and slammed it tight against the bottom of the boulder. ‘There, that’ll stop anybeast moving it. The whole thing works on a fine balance, you see. Now stay quiet and listen!’

  Hookfin and a bunch of searats rounded the rocky outcrop. Before them the winding trail ran upwards into the high hills, completely devoid of signs of life. The searat Captain looked hither and thither without success. ‘This is the way they came. I’d stake me oath on it. Where’ve the scurvy blaggards go to?’

  ‘They’ve vanished, Cap’n!’

  ‘Stow yer gab, biscuitbrain. Nobeast just vanishes. They’re round ’ere somewheres – I know it.’

  ‘Well, my old dad used ter say that badgers were magic beasts. Maybe they ’ave vanished, Cap’n!’

  Hookfin aimed a kick at the speaker. ‘Huh, your ole dad must’ve lived up a tree with a branch growin’ through both ears. Don’t talk such bilgerot. No, they’re round ’ere, I can feel it.’

  ‘May’aps they’re be’ind that big boulder, Cap’n.’

  This remark did not improve Hookfin’s temper.

  ‘Aye, an’ mayhaps I’ll beat your brains out agin that great boulder if yer make another stupid suggestion. Spread out an’ look around.’

  As they searched, one searat close to the boulder nudged his mate. ‘Can you smell burnin’, matey?’

  ‘No, but it’ll probably be Cap’n ’ookfin’s old brainbox tryin’ ter figger out where the badger went. Heeheeheehee!’

  ‘You two over there, stop sniggerin’ an’ start searchin’, or I’ll lay me sword blade across yer backs!’

  Rocking back and forth with silent mirth, the creatures in the cave listened to the searats outside. Even Rawnblade had to stifle a few chuckles. Finally Dandin took the torch and went off down the winding rocky tunnel.

  ‘Come on, we can’t stop here all day listening to those buffoons.’

  The tunnel sloped gently downwards. Mariel stared at the rough rock walls in the flickering torchlight as she followed Durry Quill. ‘Where are we going, Durry?’

  ‘Down to the main cave, missy. That’s where us Trag warriors meet.’

  ‘Trag, what’s that supposed to mean?’

  Durry Quill flourished a fearsome dagger, muttering darkly, ‘Terramort Resistance Against Gabool. Trag see, first letter o’ each word. You’ll like our Chief though, he knows you very well.’

  Mariel was mystified. ‘Knows me? How?’

  Durry smiled in the shadows as he answered, “Cos he’s your daddy, Joseph the Bellmaker!’

  Dandin felt the torch snatched from his grasp as Mariel dashed past. She disappeared down the winding tunnel, leaving them groping in the darkness as the mousemaid’s voice echoed about them at screaming pitch.

  ‘Father! Fatheeeeerrr!’

  It was an immense cavern, high above the tidemark on the sheer rock coast, facing the open sea and well lit by the summer sun. Free creatures, former oarslaves and Fort Bladegirt drudges, sat about on rocky ledges, cleaning and preparing weapons, cooking over fires and readying meals. All activity ground to an immediate halt as the mousemaid came hurtling down the tunnel into the cavern.

  Heedlessly dropping the flaring torch, she threw herself into the paws of Joseph, hugging him fiercely as her tears flooded into the silver-grey fur of his broad shoulder.

  ‘Father! Oh, Father! I always knew I’d find you again someday!’

  Joseph the Bellmaker held his only child, the pain and anguish of many long days and nights turning to unbounded joy as a happy smile lit his strong face, banishing the glistening dew which threatened to spill from his proud eyes. ‘Mariel . . . Mariel my little maid, how you’ve grown! I never knew all this time whether you were alive, but in my heart I refused to believe that you were dead and I always knew you’d return somehow, my little Mariel!’

  The others stumbled out of the tunnel, Durry Quill dabbing tenderly at his swelling snout, which he had banged against the rock walls in the darkness.

  ‘Well, wait’ll I tell my ol’ nuncle, dashin’ off an’ leavin’ a young ’og int the dark like that. Ain’t you got no feelin’s, missy?’

  That night the fires blazed merrily in the cavern of the Trag warriors, huge platters of shrimp and shellfish were served, with wild oat and barley bread, hot from the rocks it had been baked on, casks of preserved fruits taken from searat ships were opened and a fine barrel of daisy and dandelion beer tapped. The friends sat around as Joseph related his story.

  ‘Gabool pushed me from a high window of his banqueting room. Luckily for me I did not strike the rockface on the way down. I hit the water hard and was knocked senseless; I was weak and ill from being starved and imprisoned, otherwise I might have stayed conscious. The sea must have washed me around the headland, and I came to jammed against a reef on a small inlet somewhere up the coast of Terramort. That’s where I was found by that fellow.’ Joseph pointed to a vole who was seated on a rock ledge sharpening a sword. The vole stood up and bowed to them, introducing himself by name, ‘Tan Loc’. He sat down and resumed sharpening the sword.

  ‘Tan Loc is a fellow of fe
w words,’ Joseph continued. ‘He broods a lot. His whole family were slain by searats when he was taken captive. He lives for only one thing: to meet the murderer, Hookfin, Master of the Blacksail. But back to my story. Tan Loc and I helped each other stay alive. We could not afford to be seen – it would have meant certain death – so we stayed on this side of the island, surviving as best we could. One day we discovered this place and its tunnels – I will show them to you in due course. The tunnels were a new lease of life to us. They led to places all over the island, so we could travel anywhere and remain unseen. Some nights we would steal supplies from the ships, weapons too, and other items which would be of use to us. We soon came across others, house slaves from Fort Bladegirt who had managed to escape, sometimes oarslaves, thrown on the beach because they were too sick and weak to pull an oar any more. In time our numbers began to swell. That was when we decided to form Trag, Terramort Resistance Against Gabool. Soon now we will be strong enough to attack Bladegirt in force, though our numbers would never equal the sea rat horde up there at the moment. Still, we will fight them and try to rid the earth of Gabool the Wild. We may not have the numbers, but we have the courage and determination.’

  Lord Rawnblade stood up, both paws resting on the crosshilt of his destroyer Verminfate. ‘I am sworn to kill Gabool. He is mine!’

  Joseph touched the long knife at the back of his belt. ‘Then you will have to be quick, Lord Widestripe. I made an oath to slay Gabool when the house slaves told me he had drowned my Mariel with a rock and a rope tied about her neck. That oath still holds!’

  Mariel leaped up, the Gullwhacker swinging wide. ‘First there, first served! Gabool’s life is mine to take. I am Mariel Gullwhacker, I claim the right!’

  Tarquin leaned over to Dandin. ‘What about you, old feller?’

  Dandin drew the sword slowly. ‘This is the blade of Martin the Warrior. No creature that is evil can stand against it, least of all Gabool!’

  Tarquin and Durry held a hasty whispered conference, then they both jumped up, issuing their separate challenges.

  ‘This ’ere is my scraggin’ dagger, an’ I’m goin’ to scrag that scurvy Gabool good ’n’ proper. I’m on’y a young lad, but I swear it by my ol’ nunde Gabe’s best October ale!’

  ‘Well, you’ll have t’ scrag away pretty fast, old chap, ’cos if Joseph has got the blighter with his long knife, Milord Rawnblade has paid the rotter a visit with that great log cleaver and our Mariel has been to see the scoundrel with her Gullwhacker, then along comes the bold Durry Quill with his scraggin’ dagger, well, tell me this: what chance is an honest chap like meself goin’ to get to brain the beggar with my jolly old harolina, wot? Listen, you lot, stop bein’ so confounded greedy and let me be first to knock out a tune on the villain’s noodle.’

  ‘The sight of Tarquin striking a noble pose, harolina at the ready, caused the entire group to dissolve into helpless laughter.

  Gabool was in no mood for laughter. The maddened Searat King dashed furiously around his barred and bolted room, slashing at phantom badgers as they stole out of the shadows to confront his bloodshot eyes, shrieking and thrusting wildly at the spectres created by his tormented brain.

  ‘Haharr, I’ll finish ye all. I’m Gabool the King of all Seas!’

  Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!

  He rent curtains and wallhangings; sparks showered from his sword as it dashed on the stone walls.

  ‘Cursed noise, I’ll send yer to Hellgates an’ beyond!’

  Down below in the banqueting hall, Riptung, Hookfin and Grimtooth laughed drunkenly as they flung hard apples across the tables at the great tarnished bell in the centre of the floor.

  ‘Haharr! Listen, Yer Majesty, it’s yer old matey the bell a-speakin’ to yer. It wants t’ know where you’ve hid the booty. Haharrharrharr!’

  The crews joined in the laughter as they pelted the bell with apples.

  Boom! Bong! Boom! Bong! Boom! Bonggggg!

  36

  A PALE DAWN sun high above Mossflower Woods watched impassively as the otter and badger searched for the searat camp, longbows at the ready.

  Flagg strained his ears for sounds of movement. ‘It’s no good, marm. We should’ve asked the squirrels which way t’ go.’

  Mother Mellus sat down upon a fallen limb and rubbed her eyes. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Flagg. My old senses aren’t what they used to be. If we don’t find it soon we’ll have to change direction.’

  The otter joined her on the limb. ‘Tell you what, marm. We’ll take a liddle rest and then try a different path anyway. By the fur, I’m tired. Missin’ a full night’s sleep never did me much good, even when I was a cub. Aaaahhhh! Sit down on the grass ’ere an’ put yer back against this limb awhile. There now, ain’t that a little better?’

  Mellus relaxed, settling her head back against the moss-covered limb. A big bumblebee droned lazily past on its quest for nectar, in the distance a songthrush warbled blithely its hymn to the coming summer day, somewhere close by a grasshopper that had strayed from the flatlands chirruped idly. The warmth of the rising sun beat steadily down upon the two weary friends. As sleep stole up and took their tired senses unawares, the longbows slipped from their paws, and their eyes drooped shut.

  A small spider was starting to weave her web from the tip of a longbow to Flagg’s nose. He twitched his snout, flicking at it drowsily with his paw as the voices intruded upon his dream.

  ‘Somewheres around this way she was. I swear I saw ’er, matey!’

  ‘Well, stow yer gab an’ keep that spear ready. Y’ can’t take no chances with this scurvy rabbit. I could swear we’ve killed ’er three times a’ready. Tread easy now – is that ’er?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Layin’ among those fern things, goggle eyes. Look, can’t y’see?’

  Flagg came awake, collecting his senses as he listened to the searats.

  ‘Take no chances this time, mate. Sneak up, an’ both of us in fast with the spears, hard as y’can, ten times apiece. See she doesn’t jump away agin.’

  ‘Aye, did ye ever see anythin’ like that leap she made out of the camp? Right over Greypatch’s ’ead, an’ ’er all cut t’ pieces too!’

  The urgency of the situation hit Flagg like a thunderbolt. Sitting up silently, he placed a paw across Mellus’s mouth and shook her awake. The badger saw something in Flagg’s eyes that made her go completely still. He gestured forward with his paw, whispering one word. ‘Searats!’

  Stealthily the two friends stood up, fitting arrows to their longbows.

  The two searats were standing some distance away, their backs to the hunters as they sneaked in upon a bed of fern, spears raised, ready for the kill. Flagg and Mellus drew back the shafts upon their bowstrings to full stretch. The otter nodded to Mellus, and she called out in a loud gruff voice, ‘Ahoy there!’

  The two searats turned in the direction of her voice as the arrows left the longbows with a vicious twin hiss. Both rats fell instantaneously, the sharp oak shafts standing out of their necks a half-length.

  Regardless of nettle and bush, the otter and the badger crashed through the woodland into the bed of ferns. They stood aghast at the wounded, scarred, bloodstained form of Hon Rosie lying on the ground. She pulled herself up on to one paw, smiling crookedly through her ripped and battered face.

  ‘H-hello, you ch-chaps. ‘Fraid they’ve k-killed me . . . Wot . . .!’ Collapsing back, the brave hare lay stretched among the ferns.

  Mellus was down beside her, ripping up her garments, bandaging, wiping blood from Rosie’s face and massaging her paws as she instructed Flagg.

  ‘Have you got a knife?’

  ‘Yes, marm – one of Friar Alders best. Is she dead?’

  ‘No, not quite. There’s a chance. Cut some poles – no, wait, use the longbows. Chop some vines, anything. We’ll use our belts . . . Got to make a stretcher. Here!’ She ripped off her belt and threw it to Flagg. The helpful otter took off his own.

  ‘
Gotcha, marm. Leave it t’ me!’

  He set about his task swiftly, glancing urgently back to where Mellus was busy with Rosie among the ferns.

  ‘You can’t die, d’you hear me, Rosie? Wake up! If you die, I’ll kill you! Oh, I’m sorry dear. Live! Live for Clary and Thyme. Live!’

  Rufe Brush and Oak Tom headed the party that had set out from Redwall at dawn. They were all heavily armed and determined to help Mellus and Flagg against the searats. Cutting off the path, they entered the woodlands. Tom and Treerose swung off into the foliage to scout ahead. Gabe Quill brandished a big bung mallet angrily.

  ‘I’ll searat ’em, the filthy vermints!’

  Rufe turned to him. ‘Keep your voice down, Gabe . . . Owch! Watch where you’re pokin’ that lance, Burgo. Pooh! Are you chewin’ wild garlic again?’

  ‘Burr, aye, zurr. Found some o’ the pesky stuff o’er yonder. Oi carnt aboid the smell tho’ I dearly do hiv ets taste. ‘Pologies ’bout ’ee larnce, zurr.’

  ‘Chuck ee larnce aways,’ Foremole whispered in Burgo’s ear. ‘You’m cudd slay emenies with thoi breath!’

  ‘Over here, straight ahead,’ Oak Tom called out from a high hornbeam. ‘It’s Mellus an’ Flagg bearin’ a stretcher.’

  The Redwallers flocked around Rosie gabbling questions at her rescuers.

  ‘Is she dead?’

  ‘Coo deary, she’m bad cuttup!’

  ‘Where did you find her, Flagg?’

  ‘Any sign o’ Clary or Thyme?’

  ‘D’you think she’ll live?’

  Mellus silenced them with a growl. ‘Stop all this silly chattering. We must get this hare to Redwall as speedily as possible. You squirrels, will you get back to the Abbey as quickly as you can. Tell Sister Serena, Simeon, the Abbot and Sister Sage to have all their medicines ready and a room in sickbay cleared out. Right, off you go!’