Mattimeo (Redwall) Read online

  Slagar strode off, leaving Vitch dumbfounded but thankful that he had only received a verbal reprimand for his curiosity.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Mattimeo whispered to Jube. ‘Have you any idea where we’re going?’

  The young hedgehog nodded. ‘South. That’s the way that slave caravans always go. My dad an’ mum said it’s evil in the south. We never go there.’

  Shortly before noon they were in sight of two hills. Slagar called Threeclaws and Halftail.

  ‘We’ll camp in the canyon between those two hills. Take the slaves up to the south end of it, there’s flat rocks with a river running through the middle. Stake them out there awhile, feed ’em and let ’em sleep. I’ll stay up this end of the gorge with Bageye, Skinpaw and Scringe, on top of that hill to the left. I want to see if we’re being followed. If I signal you, then move this lot south, quick as you can. We’ll catch up with you later.’

  Two stoats called Badrag and Browntooth walked alongside Mattimeo and the others. Sam and Auma began secretly baiting them. The squirrel and the young badger yawned loudly and stretched.

  ‘Whoooyaawhhh! I’m almost asleep on my paws, Auma. What about you?’

  ‘Whuuuyyaaaah! Never mind us, Sam, what about these poor guards? They’ve had their tails run off, marching and looking after us.’

  ‘You’re right there badger.’ Badrag rubbed his eyes and yawned. ‘Havin’ to break camp and march in the middle of the night, keepin’ you lot goin’, takin’ orders off Slagar. . . .’

  Sam nodded sympathetically. ‘Aye, not much of a life, is it.’

  Browntooth stubbed his paw on a rock. ‘Ouch! when are we goin’ to stop and get a decent sleep an’ something to eat, that’s what I’d like to know.’

  ‘It’s a shame,’ Auma ducked understandingly, ‘that’s what it is. Look, why don’t I mind that big clumsy spear? You sit down on that rock and rest for a while. Sam, you’ll mind Browntooth’s old rusty sword for him, won’t you?’

  Sam smiled at Browntooth. ‘Of course. Anything for a friend. You slip me your sword and go and get yourself a little rest with Badrag.’

  The two stoats were nearly taken in until Slagar’s voice called harshly from the head of the column, ‘Badrag, Browntooth! Stop yammering and get those prisoners moving. Come on, liven yourselves up!’

  Badrag spat on his paws and rubbed them into his eyes as he quickened the pace. ‘Think you’re clever, don’t you, tryin’ to get us in trouble with the Chief.’ Browntooth snarled at Sam and Auma. ‘Move along there. Come on, get those paws trottin’, you slackers!’

  Matthias was first at the scene of the battle, with Jess close behind him. Twelve hedgehogs were attacking a badger, nipping and bulling from all sides with claw, tooth and spike. The badger was a huge male, even bigger than Constance. He carried a large double-headed battleaxe, but he was only using the long wooden-poled handle to ward off his attackers. Time and again they would charge, hurling themselves at the big badger with savage grunting noises, but still he did not use the battleaxe blade. Squealing hedgehogs were tossed high into the bushes by long powerful sweeps of the handle, and now and again he would lash out with his paw, causing them to ball up and roll away. Regardless of the size and obvious danger of the badger, the hedgehogs continued to fight him aggressively. They were strong fighters. One of them, an old male, would call out at intervals, ‘You great stripy varmint, give us back our Jubilation or we’ll spike you dead, so we will!’

  The badger’s patience was wearing thin, but his great strength was unabated as he bared his teeth and yelled back, ‘What in thunder’s a jubilation? You’re all mad. Get back or I’ll use this axe properly, on my oath as a warrior I will!’

  Matthias, Jess, Basil and Cheek stood on the outskirts of the fight, completely ignored. The warrior mouse turned to Basil. ‘There seems to be something wrong here. Woodlanders don’t usually fight each other this way. Maybe they know something about which way the fox has gone. I’m going in to break it up.’

  ‘Keep out of the way young feller,’ Basil told Cheek. ‘Right, Matthias me old scout, lead on.’

  Matthias, Jess and Basil leapt into the fray, placing themselves around the badger. The warrior mouse brandished his sword and roared out. ‘A Redwall, a Redwall!’

  Basil’s voice joined Matthias’s. ‘Blood’n’vinegar, mud’n’fur, up and at ’em!’

  Jess’s voice joined them both. ‘Treetops and timber. Redwallllll!’

  Immediately the fighting ceased. The big badger and the twelve hedgehogs looked in surprise at the newcomers. Basil Stag Hare took charge.

  ‘Steady in the ranks thah, chaps! Right, listen out now, all fightin’ an’ skirmishin’ to cease forthwith. Otherwise this blighter here’ll chop you into bits with the great sword of Redwall. Now, what’s all the jolly old tiz-woz about, eh?’

  The badger added his voice to those of the hedgehogs as they all began talking at once.

  ‘He stole our Jubilation!’

  ‘Rubbish, I’ve never even seen a jubilation!’

  ‘Yew great stripy ol’ liar!’

  ‘Liar yourself!’

  ‘Don’t you call her a liar or I’ll break that there ’atchet over your skull, so I will!’

  ‘I’d like to see you try it, spikebottom!’

  ‘Ooh! D’you ’ear wot ’e called me, Dad?’

  ‘Never mind wot ’e called yew, sticks’n’ stones won’t break our bones. You just give us back our Jub’lation, badger.’

  Matthias struck the steel axehead with his sword blade. The sound rang out like a bell, restoring silence again. The warrior mouse pointed at the badger with his sword.

  ‘One at a time, you first.’

  The badger leaned upon his axe haft, his powerful chest heaving. ‘My name is Orlando the Axe. I come from the western plain. My daughter Auma was taken by Slagar and his slavers, and I was searching for her when all these mad hedgehogs attacked me without any reason.’

  The old male hedgehog began dancing excitedly. ‘Harr, so that’s it! Slagar an’ his varmints, I might’ve knowed it. He’s the one as stole our little Jubilation.’

  Matthias pointed the sword at the hedgehog. ‘Who are you and what is jubilation?’

  The hedgehog waddled forward. He was the most untidy creature, with leaves, flowers, roots and creepers stuck to all his spines.

  ‘I’ll tell y’who I am, young feller,’ he said. ‘I’m Jabez Stump. This here’s my wife Rosyqueen and these are my ten daughters. I’ve got a son too, splendid liddle ’og, name of Jubilation, at least I did have a son till that thievin’ fox passed this ways.’

  Matthias bowed. ‘I too had a fine young son stolen from me by Slagar. I am Matthias the Warrior of Redwall Abbey. Allow me to introduce my friends. This is Jess Squirrel, champion climber and tree jumper. Her son Sam was also taken by Slagar, along with three others from our Abbey, two churchmice and a little volemaid. That young otter is Cheek, both by name and by nature. And last but not least, Basil Stag Hare, retired regimental scout and foot fighter.’

  Basil made an elegant leg. ‘At y’service, sah! Well, well, it seems that we all have a reason to catch up with that foul blot Slagar. I suggest we join forces. Actually, we lost the slavers’ trail, and we’d be terribly glad of any help you could give us, wot?’

  The badger hefted his huge axe. ‘A sound proposition. I need help more than anybeast. I’m hopelessly lost in these woods, and it was only by chance that I came this far. Bear in mind, though, I’ll be extremely useful when we catch up with these slavers.’ Orlando accentuated this last remark by testing his axe blades on the side of his paw.

  Jabez Stump and his brood drew to one side and had a whispered debate, then the hedgehog returned and offered his paw.

  ‘So be it, we search together.’

  Matthias, Basil, Jess and Orlando linked paws with Jabez. ‘Together!’

  Rosyqueen pointed the direction. ‘South, that’s the way the slavers always travel, though no one k
nows what lies beyond the great Southern Plateau. But afore you travel you must eat with us.’

  The Stump family lived in a great hollow beech tree that had fallen on its side. They were not very strong on table manners. Immediately the food was set out, the ten husky daughters threw themselves upon it and had to be beaten off by their father to make room for the guests. Matthias and his friends thanked them politely and carried their portions of woodland stew, acornbread and cider outside because of the lack of room in the hollow log. They sat on a grassy sward, eating and watching the incredible scene inside. Rosyqueen hit out indiscriminately with a heavy wooden ladle as the ten daughters fought, bit, licked the stewpot, stole bread from each other and generally created uproar in the limited space.

  ‘Bless their ’earts,’ Jabez Stump laughed. ‘They’s all fine big maids wi’ ’ealthy appetites. You should see my liddle Jube, though. He can outspike the lot o’them when ’e’s at ’ome, hoho! It’s a lifetime’s work keepin’ this lot fed, it is that.’

  By now the hedgehogs had finished the food and were starting to eat the soft wooden casing that formed the walls inside the log. Rosyqueen belaboured them furiously until they spilled out on to the sward, tumbling and fighting for leftovers, so much so that Matthias and his friends were hard put to finish their meal in peace.

  Jabez Stump tossed his soup bowl to one of them to lick as he stood up dusting his paws. ‘Right then, we about ready to start trackin’?’

  They set off south, with Rosyqueen and the ten daughters waving a cheerful goodbye.

  ‘You find them liddle uns now, d’you ’ear?’

  ‘Aye, and bring us back some weasels to bully.’

  ‘If we ain’t ’ere when you returns it’ll be ’cos we’ve etten the log an’ gone a-searchin’ for another. Goodbye!’

  As Jabez was making his goodbyes, Basil Stag Hare whispered to Matthias and Orlando, ‘Some blighter’s watching us from those bushes to the right.’

  Orlando moved casually in the direction of the bushes. ‘Leave this one to me.’

  But before the badger could move any further, Jess Squirrel was past him like a reddish streak. She flew into the bushes with a mighty leap and engaged the watcher. The foliage shook and trembled as the bushes thrashed noisily with the vigour of Jess’s attack, and there were panicked cries from the shrubbery.

  ‘Lemmego, lemmego! Ow ouch! Eek gurgh! You’re hurting me!’

  Jess emerged from the bushes, dragging Scurl the great frilled newt by his comb. ‘Oho, don’t you worry, sloppyskin, I’ll hurt you! I’ll tear you in pieces and feed you to the Stump family if you don’t tell me where you got my champion climber’s tailring from.’

  She threw Scurl roughly to the ground. Completely surrounded, the cheating reptile stared wide-eyed at Orlando, Jabez, Basil and Matthias. Using all his agility, he tried to make a swift escape, but the sword that buried itself in the ground at his nosetip and the immense war axe that thudded to earth a fraction from his tail warned him in no uncertain way that these creatures were warriors, not young woodland captives, and they meant business.

  Scurl swallowed hard. ‘I can ’splain. I’ll tell you everything!’

  Matthias flicked the swordpoint against the frightened newt’s pulsating throat.

  ‘That’s my son’s habit cord you’re wearing. I think you had better tell us everything. Now!’

  18

  BABY ROLLO WAS singing again.

  ‘Seeker Flounder inner stones, oho,

  I know where da lickle folks go.’

  Cornflower was searching along the ramparts of the eastern wall. The old redstone was warmed by the sun and shaded by the quiet green heights of Mossflower. She looked around distractedly.

  ‘Baby Rollo, hush! We won’t find anything with you singing aloud like that, it’s very distracting.’

  Rollo gave her a winsome smile. He held a paw to his chubby face. ‘Ssshhhh, ‘stracting!’ he echoed.

  Cornflower could not help laughing at the infant vole. ‘Go on with you, you rascal. Why don’t you pop down and see Mr Spike in the cellars and lend him a paw? He’ll probably give you a drink of nice cold strawberry cordial.’

  Rollo sang lustily as he made his way down the wallsteps.

  ‘Seeker Flounder inner stones,

  I catch a rat an’ break his bones,

  Give Mr Spike a good hard strike,

  For good ol’ strawhawhaw beherreeee corjullllll!’

  He tottered momentarily on the bottom step but was caught firmly by Winifred the otter, who happened to be passing by in the nick of time.

  ‘Gotcha, you villain. Oof! You’re a great lump of a baby bankvole. Hi, Cornflower. No luck? I think we’re all in the same boat. Come down off there. It’s getting too hot to be searching now. Let’s go and have lunch. They’ve put out a picnic spread on the grass.’

  As Cornflower and Winifred sat with their backs against the Abbey wall, they were joined by Foremole.

  ‘Yurr, missis, oil just see’d li’l Rollyo agoin’ off down’t cellars, hurr hurr. Ambrose’ll be a-nappen. Due for a rude awaken, oi shouldn’t wunner.’

  The meal was simple; fresh summer salad, cold cider, and gooseberry crumble with nutmeg cream. Foremole munched thoughtfully, wrinkling his snout and blinking his eyes a lot.

  ‘Hurr, gotten uz proper flummoxed, ‘as yon puzzle. Nor a one yet a cummen up wi’ no clues.’

  Cornflower passed him the cider. ‘It’s difficult, I agree, but we must find the solution soon if we are to help Matthias. It’s hard to know where to begin. “Seek the Founder in the stones where the little folk go.” Do we begin by seeking out the stones, the Founder, or the little folk, or all three?’

  Baby Rollo came running towards them with a small canteen of strawberry cordial tied about his fat waist. Winifred laughed. ‘Look out, here’s the terror back again. I’ll bet Mr Spike gave him what he wanted just to be rid of him while he takes his nap.’

  They carried on eating and discussing the riddle. Baby Rollo sat between Cornflower and Foremole, continually butting in and trying to show them something he had in his paws. Winifred patted the baby vole’s head.

  ‘Yes, yes, very nice, Rollo. But please don’t interrupt. Can’t you see we’re talking?’

  Rollo would not be put off. He cut a comical figure, muttering away as he wriggled his paws this way and that as if trying to hold on to something.

  ‘Cornflow’, lookit see, lookit,’ he persisted.

  Cornflower fed him on a piece of gooseberry crumble and wiped his face on the corner of her apron. ‘Drink up your cordial like a good little vole now, Rollo. Please don’t speak with your mouth full. Remember your manners. Oh dear, what is he so excited about?’

  Rollo opened his paws wide, gurgling at the insect that ran backwards and forwards across them. ‘Lookit, li’l folkses!’

  All three stared in amazement. The infant was showing them something they had not thought of so far.

  ‘It’s an ant!’

  ‘Of course, the little folk. That’s what Methusaleh and old Abbot Mortimer always called ants: the little folk.’

  ‘Yurr, clever li’l Rollyo, guddbeast, young zurr!’

  ‘Tell us where you found him.’

  Rollo pointed a paw with the ant still roaming across it. ‘Mista Spike’s cellar.’

  Across the lawn they hurried, into Great Hall, down the stairs to Cavern Hole, through the small corridor at the far side and down the sloping ramp into the wine cellars. Ambrose Spike lay snoring gently, an empty jug beside him. At a nod from Foremole they tiptoed past the slumbering hedgehog and followed baby Rollo through the dim cellar. He led them to a tun barrel of preserved damsons, a huge old oaken affair which had stood there longer than any creature cared to remember. There was a crack between the staves where the withe had perished, causing a slight leak. Rollo pointed to the floor where a tiny pool of the dark sticky juice was congealing. Ants busily collected the sweet residue, trooping in a continuous column.
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  ‘Lookit, see, li’l folkses.’

  Cornflower clapped her paws in delight. ‘Good vole, Rollo. Come on, let’s follow them and see where they go.’

  The procession of ants marched busily along, hugging the wall, deeper into the cellars, where they took a right turn, following an old passage.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ Winifred said. ‘I’ll go and get a torch. It’s very dark in here.’

  They paused, watching the line of ants industriously plodding along, with other ants passing them on their way back to the juice. Winifred returned, and the light from the blazing faggot torch she held aloft helped greatly.

  They continued down the old passage, which twisted and turned, dry, dark and musty. The light revealed a heavy wooden door barring the way. The ants, however, marched straight on, under the space at the bottom of the door. Between them they tugged on the tarnished brass ring handle. The door opened slowly, its iron hinges creaking rustily. This frightened the ants. They dispersed, breaking the continuous trail.

  ‘Be still and quiet now, give the little folk time to settle,’ Cornflower advised.

  They waited until the ants had forgotten the intrusion upon their line and continued progress.

  They were in a small cavelike room, full of forgotten barrels, tools and old benches. The ants wove a tortuous path, around crumbling and broken casks, firkins and butts, across the room to another passage which was little more than an unpaved tunnel. With baby Rollo still leading, they crouched and followed. The going began to get steep.

  ‘This looks like some kind of disused working, maybe a mistake in the digging plans of the foundations that was left abandoned,’ Cornflower remarked.