The Sparra Queen hopped on to the mantelpiece and cocked her head to one side jauntily. ‘No worry. Warbeak Queen, Sparra warriors do what me say. Matthias, Redwall, all good to Warbeak and Sparra folk. We do um this for you, for you.’
‘Splendid!’ For a mouse of his many seasons, the Abbot did a surprisingly agile leap up on to his paws. ‘I will rouse Brother Sedge, Sister Agnes, Brother Rufus, Sister May. Together with myself and John Churchmouse, they should be able to copy the map and the poem several times over before first light. I take it you will want to leave at dawn, Queen Warbeak?’
The sparrow bowed gravely. ‘First wormlight, old-mouse Abbot, all Sparra fly south.’
Outside the gatehouse window, other ears were listening. A large magpie clacked his beak together in satisfaction and took off for the woodlands beyond the Abbey’s north wall.
BOOK TWO
General Ironbeak
26
MATTHIAS AND HIS friends watched in silence as Log-a-Log held up the black stone in one paw and addressed the shrews seated on the river bank in the quiet summer’s evening.
‘Members of the Guosim, you have heard the tale Matthias of Redwall and his friends related to us. There is evil abroad in Mossflower; this we already knew. Slavers, the masked fox and his band, have captured young creatures. Even now they are marching them south.’
‘So, what has this got to do with us?’ the shrew named Skan interrupted.
Log-a-Log turned on the insolent one. ‘Silence, Skan! Do not show your bad manners by calling out while I hold the stone at a council meeting. If you wish to say anything, then wait until I have finished and it is your turn to hold the stone. This is the rule of the Guosim.’
Skan sniggered and muttered something to his cronies. Standing boldly, he faced Log-a-Log.
‘It’s a stupid rule, like all your silly Guosim customs. I am a free shrew and I’ll talk when I feel like it.’
Immediately a hubbub and argument broke out on both sides.
Orlando pawed his axe, he made to rise, but Matthias warned him, ‘Sit still friend. Leave this to Log-a-Log.’
The shrew leader restored order by raising his voice above the rest.
‘Logalogalogalog! Listen to me, shrews. The creatures of Redwall have always been our good friends. If we were hungry, if we were hurt, if we were sick, the Brothers and Sisters of the Abbey would help us without question. It is our duty to help them now. I say we go with Matthias and his companions. We will fight the slavers and rescue the young ones. Are you with me?’
There was a loud shout of agreement from the main body, but Skan and his followers stood to one side, silent and sneering. Log-a-Log walked stiff-legged to where Skan stood. The shrew leader thrust his face close to the young usurper, his hackles bristling dangerously.
‘And you, Skan, are you for the Guosim or against it?’
‘Guosim, huh!’ Skan said scornfully, though he avoided Log-a-Log’s eyes. ‘A pile of old fuddy-duddies making outdated rules and regulations, why should me and my friends get ourselves slain or injured sorting out the troubles of others. I say we mind our own business.’
Log-a-Log smiled coldly. ‘So, it has come to this. You have been pushing and prodding me for quite a while now, Skan. Perhaps you would like to be the new Log-a-Log of the Guosim? Well, now is your chance. Let’s see if you fight as bravely as you talk. Come on, Skan, knock this council stone from an old fuddy-duddy’s paw.’
The shrew leader stood in front of the young rebel, holding out the stone for all to see. He looked relaxed, though his whole body was tensed like a steel spring. Skan stood half a head taller than Log-a-Log. For a moment it looked as if he were about to do something, then he saw the light of battle in the shrew leader’s eyes and his nerve failed him. He turned away.
‘Yah, who wants to be bothered with the Guosim? I’m away to roam free and do as I like. Come on, shrews.’
Skan and his group of followers marched off into the fading light.
There was an audible sigh of relief throughout the shrew camp. The main body, who were with Log-a-Log, sat back and relaxed amid a general chatter of conversation.
Orlando nudged Matthias. ‘He’s not short of courage, your friend Log-a-Log. That Skan was bigger and heavier than him by far. Do you think he could have beaten him?’
Matthias smiled knowingly. ‘Log-a-Log may be small, but he’s the fiercest shrew warrior I’ve ever seen, though he’s no bully like Skan. The rest of the Guosim know this. Log-a-Log is a good leader, he’s as wise as he is brave.’
Log-a-Log came and sat with them. He clapped Matthias on the back. ‘Sorry about that, old Redwaller, though it’s none of your fault. Skan and his pals have been niggling at me all season, and it had to come to a head sooner or later. Ah well, at first light tomorrow we’ll follow the fox. He’s travelling south; my scouts have cut his track several times over the past few days.’
Slagar rose silently while the rest slept. He made his way quietly through the camp and across the foothills until he was at the base of the gigantic cliffs which stretched away in both directions as far as the eye could see. Drawing out his leather-thonged weapon, he twirled it until the metal balls clacked together loudly in the still night air. There was an answering rap from the top of the plateau, as if two rocks had been banged sharply together.
Slagar the Cruel smiled beneath his silken mask. He looked up and saw the two rope ladders uncoiling themselves as they fell from the heights. Giving each of them a tug to make sure they were secure, the fox stole off back to the camp and his slave line.
The peace of a warm summer night lay over Mossflower. It was a peace that would not last.
27
GENERAL IRONBEAK PERCHED in a great cedar which stood near the northern woodland fringe close to Redwall in Mossflower country. On the bough beside him, the crow Mangiz watched golden dawn light flooding from the east. On a lower branch, three magpie brothers, Quickbill, Brightback and Diptail, awaited the raven General’s orders. In the trees to either side of them a small army of rooks were gathered, basking in the mild summer weather; it was a welcome change for all.
The birds respected Ironbeak as a shrewd commander. He had given them victories and kept their bellies full, and he was the most feared fighting bird in all the far cold northland. General Ironbeak had led his fighters from the bleak places of the north to this new territory, and they marvelled at the warm weather, the vast green forest with its cool shade, plentiful water and easy foraging. They sat in the lower terraces of the foliage, content in their new surroundings, but ready to fly at Ironbeak’s bidding.
The raven General relied upon the word of his seer, the crow Mangiz. He seldom arrived at any decision without first consulting him. Today was different. During the night, Quickbill the magpie had made his report, apprising the General of the latest news from Redwall. Now Ironbeak and Mangiz perched side by side, their eyes half closed, not looking at each other as they talked.
‘Arrah! It is as I said, my General. The great redstone house is only a smallflight from us. You heard Quickbill, soon the sparrows will be gone and there will be none to give warning against us.’
The raven blinked as sunlight caught the corner of his eye. ‘My good right wing, Mangiz, it is as you foretold. Truly the redstone house is a wonderful place. Tell me more of it.’
The impassive crow ruffled his neck down into dark breast feathers. ‘The sparrows fly south, my visions told me this. Where they go I do not know. Grakk! That need not concern us. The roofspaces will be unguarded, and we can take care of any old ones or nestlings that are left. Below on the ground there are many earthcrawlers, a great stripedog, hedgepig, waterhound and mice wearing robes. There are no warriors or fighters to do battle with.’
Ironbeak came alert as the distant sounds of the Matthias and Methusaleh bells tolled out a new day in the Summer of the Golden Plain.
‘Listen, Mangiz, the bells are welcoming us. It is a great thing to have a redstone house
with bells. Arrak! The only time before this that I heard a bell was upon the northland’s great waters. It was on a ship that sank in a great storm. I never knew that houses had bells. What else does your vision tell you about the redstone?’
The seer crow shut his eyes light. ‘The place has big lands enclosed by a wall. Enough food grows there to feed the whole northland, and there is a pool with fishes in it. Take my word, it is a place of plenty.’
Ironbeak’s bright eyes shone. ‘Yagga! Well told, my Mangiz. You are seldom wrong. Quickbill, take your brothers and watch the redstone house. Do not be seen. When the sparrows are gone, report back here. Grubclaw, Ragwing, take sentry duty. The rest of you keep low and hidden. Rest awhile, my fighters.’
The three magpies dipped their tails in salute before winging off through the trees. Amid a ruffling of feathers and scratching of talons, the others settled down to enjoy a rest in the warm summer morning. Ironbeak shuffled restlessly along the maple bough. He was clearly impatient.
‘We have travelled far together, my General,’ Mangiz said soothingly. ‘Wait now, the great redstone house will soon be yours. You will conquer it from the top downwards. Walls were built only for earthcrawlers. We will arrive like silent arrows from the sky. Patience, Ironbeak.’
The raven leader settled down, reassured. ‘This is a good land to be in, Mangiz. It is not cold like those northlands, and the redstone house will be mine. It was your visions that first saw it; if you say the signs say wait, then we wait.’
Cornflower and Mrs Churchmouse stood on the south ramparts, keeping tight hold of baby Rollo as he waved and shouted. The bells pealed merrily while the Sparra folk of Queen Warbeak flew south across the woodlands in the cloudless blue morning. Constance and the Abbot cheered as lustily as any at the brave sight. The Sparra Queen circled the Abbey once, then dipping her wings she dropped like a stone, taking up a zinging flight as she brushed by the creatures on the battlements.
‘We find um, you see, we find um!’ she called.
Warbeak flew high, shooting like a speeding arrow into the vanguard of the feathered squadron. Soon they became dark specks which rapidly disappeared into the distance over Mossflower.
John Churchmouse flexed both his paws and massaged the back of his neck wearily as he descended the wallsteps with Brother Sedge.
‘Whew! Well, thank goodness that’s over. Maybe we can catch up on a little sleep now, eh, Sedge?’
Brother Sedge grubbed charcoal-stained paws into his red-rimmed eyes. ‘Aye, it’s straight up to the dormitory for me, John. It certainly takes it out of you, sitting up all night drawing maps and writing poems. I just hope that one of those birds finds Matthias and the others. I’d hate to think that we worked in vain.’
John stretched wearily. ‘Ho hum! Well, there’s at least twelve copies and they’re all carried by trusty Sparra scouts. If they can’t find them nobeast can. I wonder what’s for breakfast?’
‘Breakfast indeed, John Churchmouse,’ Mrs Churchmouse tutted airily as she passed by. ‘You’ve done nothing but eat all night. Still, I suppose you could find room for some nutbread, blackcurrant cordial and elderberry pancakes before you sleep the day away.’
John leaned wearily against the Abbey wall. ‘Hmm, s’pose so, dear. I’ll be in soon. Tell that baby Rollo to save a pancake or two for me. Basil certainly taught him how to deal with the rations, the little nosebag.’ He wiped his grimy paws on his habit and blinked owlishly. ‘’s funny, I could swear I saw a magpie above the west wall just then, did you see anything, Sedge?’
Brother Sedge stifled a yawn. ‘Oh come on, John, let’s get breakfast. You’re seeing things. There hasn’t been a magpie ever recorded in this neck of the woods.’
The morning wore on with the gentle pace of Redwall life. Three magpies winged their way low and slow to the maple at the north fringe.
That same morning saw Matthias and his friends marching shoulder to shoulder with Log-a-Log and the shrew army, south through the trees, upon the trail of Slagar. Orlando stopped in a clearing and pointed ahead with his axe.
‘Is that a cloudbank on the horizon, or some sort of landrise?’
They halted and gazed in the direction he was pointing.
Matthias shook his head. ‘Could be anything. What d’you think, Log-a-Log?’
The shrew leader shaded his eyes. ‘That must be the Great South Cliffs. I’ve heard of them, but the Guosim have never wandered that far south before. Well, let’s press on and see for ourselves. I reckon we should make them by late evening if we march at the double.’
A short meal break was taken for shrew oatcakes and water. Keeping the cliffs ahead as a bearing, the searchers set out at a fast double pawstep.
Slagar had split his band in two, half in front and half behind the slave line as they began the ascent of the rope ladders hanging down from the top of the plateau. The masked fox snapped out instructions.
‘Listen you lot, keep your paws tight on those rungs. Don’t look up or down. It’s a good drop, even from halfway up these ladders. You wouldn’t live through it, so if you want to reach the top in one piece then keep your wits about you. Threeclaws, you go first to show ’em. When you reach the top make sure the prisoners are well staked down until I get there. Stonefleck’s waiting up there. Do as he says. Right, get going!’
Mattimeo climbed stolidly, trying hard to keep some slack in the running line to make it easier for Tess and Cynthia, who were on the rungs below him. Auma climbed steadily. She was above Mattimeo. Young Jube would slip now and then, accidentally kicking the badger on her head, but she toiled upwards without complaint. Tim was above Jube and Sam was the top climber, being the more experienced. He chanced a look below when they were over halfway up. The drop was dizzying, even for a squirrel. The other slaves were way below, treading nervously on each separate rung as they were chivvied along by the slavers.
‘Come on, dozypaws, or you’ll feel my cane.’
‘Up, you stupid creature, don’t look down.’
‘Hey you, get a move on up there.’
‘Ow! You great lump, you’re treading on my paws.’
It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached the giddy heights on top of the cliffs. At first no creature noticed the big rat who sat watching them from a rocky outcrop. It was only when he moved towards them that they could distinguish him. Stonefleck was grey and dirty white with black markings. He could lie still anywhere and be taken for a rock, a ground shadow or part of the scenery. He was large for a rat and not given overmuch to talking, and he carried a heavy bow and a well-laden quiver of arrows. Threeclaws was taken aback. Stonefleck seemed to materialize out of the rocks.
‘Where’s the masked one?’ The rat’s voice was flat and toneless.
‘He’ll be here soon. Are you Stonefleck?’
The rat did not reply. He seated himself at the cliff’s edge and awaited the arrival of Slagar, looking for all the world like a boulder perched on the brink of the plateau.
The slave lines were staked to the ground by pegs. Mattimeo and the other captives sat regaining their breath after the long climb, which had been made doubly difficult because of manacles and running line. The slavers surrounded them, panting hard from their exertions. Over the cliff edge, Mossflower sprawled away into the sunlit distances. Tess stared out hopefully. Somewhere out there was their beloved Redwall Abbey, though it was too far away to see. The little churchmouse comforted herself with the thought that her mother and father, if they were alive, would probably be going in to afternoon tea in Cavern Hole. She brushed a tear of homesickness from her eye and sniffed.
Slagar was last up. He nodded to Stonefleck.
‘Is this all you brought?’ the rat asked, indicating the captives.
The silk mask pulled in and out against the Cruel One’s face as he breathed heavily. ‘It’s enough, rat. They’re all young, strong and healthy. If you wanted more, you should have tried climbing down from here and catching them yourself. I’ll spea
k to you later. First I’ve got business to attend to. Wedgeback, get yourself over here!’
‘Who, me?’ The stoat pulled a paw at himself.
‘Who d’you think, numb brain, the weasel behind you? Come here.’ Slagar’s voice was tight and dangerous.
Nervously Wedgeback looked round at his companions. They seemed to be intent on minding their own business; nobeast wanted to see what was about to happen. Falteringly the stoat made his way over to the cliff edge where Slagar stood waiting. The masked fox seized a pawful of Wedgeback’s soft belly. Digging his claws painfully deep, he pulled the frightened stoat forward until he was breathing down the terrified creature’s nostrils. A slight breeze rippled the silken hood mask. Slagar had never looked more scary. The stoat gulped aloud, his face a fraction from the slitted eyes. Slagar was actually smiling.
‘Wedgeback, old friend, let me tell you something. When I leave you in charge of the prisoners, it means that you have to guard them carefully and let none escape.’
‘B-but S-Slagar, I. . . .’
‘Hush, ssshhh!’ The Cruel One’s voice was deceptively soothing. ‘Don’t interrupt, it’s bad manners. You’ve got a lot to learn, Wedgeback. Pity you won’t have time, though. Where was I? Oh, yes. You know the trouble we went through to get those creatures from Redwall Abbey, yet the moment my back was turned you let them escape, didn’t you?’
The stoat was almost incoherent with fear. Slagar’s claws were piercing his belly and he felt totally helpless. ‘I didn’t know they were g-goin’ to ‘scape, honest.’
Slagar began slowly turning Wedgeback so that the stoat had his back to the cliff edge. He was teetering on the brink.
Mattimeo (Redwall) Page 17