Mariel Of Redwall Page 13

  Rawnblade repeated the phrase over and over with each hammer blow upon the spearhead, releasing his pent-up frustrations. When he finally stopped, the spearblade had been battered to four times its size and was thin as a leaf!

  From the western flatlands fronting the Abbey, a chorus of larks wakened Mariel. She stood stretching and rubbing her eyes for a brief moment until realization hit her – it was almost an hour after dawn. The mousemaid slung Gullwhacker around her neck and opened the door carefully, listening for familiar sounds of Abbey bustle. Thankfully she noted silence from outside and inside the building. Stealing quietly down the corridor, Mariel could not help a slight sense of bewilderment. Usually Redwall was alive and humming by this time. Tip-pawing through Great Hall, she retrieved the knapsack of supplies she had hidden behind a column before supper. Thanking her lucky stars, she dashed across the lawn towards a small wicker gate in the north wall and unbolted it. Taking one last backward look at the sleeping Abbey, the mousemaid sniffed, wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and left Redwall with its happy memories behind her.

  Flatlands to the left, woodlands to the right, Mariel strode the brown dusty path that wound northward. Early dew was drying from the lea already; it was going to be a hot day. She stayed on the side of the path where Mossflower provided treeshade. Strange that the Redwallers should sleep so late, she thought. Still, it was far better, in a way. Mariel had been dreading any long tearful farewells; it would be far easier this way, even though she felt rather guilty, stealing off like a thief in the early dawn. ‘I, Mariel,’ the mousemaid called aloud to Mossflower country, ‘swear by this honorable weapon known as the Gullwhacker that one day I will return to Redwall Abbey and all my true friends and dear companions I leave there. Always providing that I live through the dangers of the task ahead of me, that is. Oh, and providing of course that I can find the way back. No, that’s nonsense – I’d find my way back if I had only one leg and the snows were as high as the treetops. But what if I’m slain or I fail in my quest? Well, in that case I solemnly swear that my spirit will find its way back to Redwall Abbey. There! That’s that. I feel much better now, even hungry enough for a spot of breakfast.’

  Without stopping her march, she munched bread and cheese from the knapsack. A stroke of luck provided a gnarled apple tree hanging its boughs low over the path, so she plucked an early russet apple and bit into it, noting her find as a lucky omen for the journey ahead.

  Woodpigeons cooed within the dimness of woodland depths, bees hummed and grasshoppers chafed out on the sunlit flatlands. Mariel began skipping, twirling Gullwhacker at her side, suddenly filled with a sense of freedom and adventure. What better than to travel alone, eat when you please, rest when you feel the need, camp by your own little fire at night and sleep snug in some forest glade! The feeling flooded through her with such force that it made her light-headed, and she began singing aloud an old playsong, known to mice everywhere.

  ‘The winter O, the winter O,

  With cold and dark and driving snow,

  O not for me the winter O,

  My friend I tell you so.

  In spring the winds do sport and play,

  And rain can teem down anyday,

  While autumn oft is misty grey,

  My friend hear what I say.

  When summer sunlight comes each morn,

  The birds sing sweet each golden dawn,

  And flow’rs get kissed by every bee,

  While shady stands the tree.

  The summer O, the summer O,

  Amid its golden peace I go,

  From noon to lazy evening glow.

  My friend I told you so.’

  Mariel held the final note, leaping high in the air and twirling. She came down on the far side of the path, stumbled and fell. Rolling over, the mousemaid slipped down the side of the ditch bordering the flatlands.

  ‘Tut tut, dearie me – leapin’ mice, what next? Though I must say, old gel, you held that last note gracefully. Hon Rosie couldn’t have done better. Bear in mind, though, she wouldn’t have dived nose first into the ditch. Not the done sort o’ thing for young fillies. Wot?’

  Tarquin lent a paw to pull Mariel from the ditch. She was completely taken aback at the appearance of the hare.

  ‘Where did you come from, Tarquin? I never even heard you following me.’

  Tarquin L. Woodsorrel adopted a pose of comical outrage. ‘Following? Did I hear you say following, marm? Boggle me ears, I wasn’t followin’ you, snub-nose, I was right alongside you, mousy miss. Oh yes, seasons of trainin’ y’know. Camouflage an’ all that – dodge an’ bob, duck an’ weave, disguises too. D’you want to see me become a daisy or a bally buttercup?’

  Mariel was smiling as she dusted herself off on the pathside, but she chided the garrulous hare.

  ‘Very clever, Tarquin, but you can’t come with me – it’s far too dangerous.’

  Tarquin adjusted the fastenings of an oversized haversack filled to bursting with food. ‘Balderdash, young ’un. Absolute piffle and gillyswoggle! I’m goin’ my own way, just keepin’ you company on the road to see you don’t practise any more ditch divin’. Come on, step out lively now, leftrightleftrightleftright an’ all that.’

  Mariel kept pace with him, jogging to match his lanky stride. ‘Well, as long as you know you can’t come all the way with me . . . but why are we walking so fast?’

  Tarquin kept on, pawing it out at the double. ‘Goin’ to be late for lunch if we don’t move smartly. Come on now, keep up.’

  It was about lunchtime that they rounded a bend in the path to find Dandin awaiting them with a wild summer salad he had gathered to garnish the bread and cheese, together with a flask of elderberry cordial he was cooling beneath an overhanging willow. The young mouse waved to them.

  ‘Hi there. Good job you made it – another moment or two and I was going to start without you.’

  Mariel placed her paws on her hips, chin jutting out angrily. ‘What in the name of fur are you doing here?’

  Dandin smiled disarmingly. ‘Oh, it’s all a bit of a mystery really.’

  The mousemaid turned on Tarquin. ‘And you, how did you know he was here, you great lolloping flopear? It’s a plot, that’s what it is. You set this up between you!’

  Tarquin sprawled on the grass and began constructing a giant cheese and salad sandwich. ‘Steady on there, missy, I was waitin’ outside the north wicker gate for you to appear right through the bally night. Then about an hour before dawn young Dandin here pops out, so I merely told him to get a move on an’ we’d meet him further up the road for a spot of lunch. Rather civilized don’t y’think?’

  Mariel was fuming with temper, but she plumped herself down and began eating because the walk had given her an appetite. Through mouthfuls of food she berated the smiling duo.

  ‘You can wipe those silly smiles off your whiskers. You are not coming with me, either of you. Is that crystal clear?’

  They both munched away, smiling and winking at each other as they nodded agreement with the furious mousemaid.

  When lunch was finished Dandin repacked his knapsack and thrust the marvellous scabbarded sword into his cord girdle.

  ‘Rightyo, Tarkers. Let’s get moving. I wonder if this pretty mousemaid is going our way. D’you think she’d like to walk with us?’

  ‘Doubtless, old lad. We’ll string along with her a piece. D’y’know, she’s an excellent ditch diver – you should’ve seen her this mornin’, looped the loop graceful as y’please, straight into the jolly old ditch on her snout.’

  Stone-faced and in high dudgeon, Mariel marched on between them.

  Tarquin and Dandin made perilously light of the situation.

  ‘I say, Mr Woodsorrel, that’s a strange noise those grasshoppers are making.’

  ‘Not the confounded grasshoppers, laddie buck. Sounds like some wild creature nearby grindin’ their teeth.’

  ‘Hmm, not very good for the old molars, that. Temper, temper! . . . Look
out, she’s swinging that knotty rope thing.’

  By mid-afternoon Mariel had simmered down somewhat. She even let slip the odd smile or giggle at the antics of her comical travelling companions, and at one point deigned to talk to them.

  ‘It’s getting very hot. What do you say we take a rest in the shade, have a snack and then push on until dark?’

  The suggestion was well received. They flopped down gratefully with their backs against a tree-topped oak. When they had eaten, all three napped for a while, but the long summer day took its toll; what was meant to be a short rest for hot dusty eyes turned into quite a lengthy sleep.

  Dandin was wakened by a paw across his mouth. He gave a muffled cry as Tarquin hissed a warning. ‘Ssshh, not a sound!’

  The young mouse sat up carefully and looked around. Mariel was standing still as a statue, her Gullwhacker at the ready. The hare bent an ear in the direction of the woodlands opposite.

  ‘Somebeast is stalking us,’ he breathed to them both. ‘Over there, behind that yew thicket, I’m sure. Dandin, go with Mariel to the left. I’ll take the right. We’ll jump the blighter an’ turn the tables in our favour. Go!’

  Paw by paw they crept forward, listening to the rustle of the thicket, where it was plain some creature was moving about. Skirting to the left, they made out a dark shape in the shadows. Tarquin yelled out the signal.

  ‘Up an’ at him!’

  Throwing themselves headlong, the three friends pounced upon the miscreant.

  ‘Yow! Ouch! Whoo! Eeek! Yarrgh! Lerrimgo! Gerroff!’

  Young Durry Quill watched them as they hopped and leapt about like boiled frogs, yelling in pain at the spikes, embedded in paws and bodies, that they had collected from him in their mad plunge. He twitched his nose.

  ‘Serves. ’ee right fer jumpin’ on a young lad like that. Ain’t you beasts got no manners at all?’

  Mariel hopped about in agony and frustration. ‘Ah ah! You sure you haven’t brought the rest along with you? Ooh ooh! I wouldn’t be surprised to see Mellus, Simeon and the Abbot leap out from behind that hornbeam yonder. How many more of you are there? Am I taking the whole population of Redwall along with me? Ow ooch!’

  Durry was quite amused at the idea. ‘Heehee!’ he snickered aloud. ‘No no, ’tis only me alone. Now do you stop a leapin’ round an’ let me get those spikes out. I’ll fix ’ee up, never fear.’

  They waited in painful silence as Durry Quill nipped the spikes out with his teeth. Working smoothly and easily, he made a large wad of dockleaf, wild cloves and rowan berries.

  “ere, rub this on where you be stickled – ’twill ease all pains.’

  Dandin was surprised and delighted. It worked like a charm. A short space of time and it felt as if he had never encountered a hedgehog spike.

  Early evening found them back on the north path, with Durry explaining himself to the other three travellers.

  ‘My ol’ nuncle Gabe, ’ee wants me to be a cellar ’og. It’s a good job, mind, but a young ’un wants to see summat afore he settles hisself down to a life of cordial, wine an’ ales, ho yes. I ’eard all about it ’ee, Miz Mariel, an’ I couldn’t sleep for thinkin’ about it. Durry, I says to myself, Durry, a young ’og would be right honnered to tread the roads wi’ such a fearless mousemaid. So I packs me sack, gives you a liddle start – there I tells a whopper, I overslep’ really. Anywise, I follered ’ee, an’ ’ere I be, fit as a flea, fat as a beetle, an’ ready fer ought.’

  They laughed heartily at the honest and earnest hedgehog.

  Dandin pointed up the road. ‘Look, there’s a ford coming up. I can see the sun glinting off the waters. Hope it’s not too deep for us to cross.’

  Quick as a flash a big heron flapped down on the path in front of them. His stick-like legs bent as the long snaking neck curved itself ready for a strike, the fierce circular eyes contracted and dilated angrily, a dangerous pale yellow beak pointed down at them.

  ‘Irrrrrraktaan, this is my waterrrrrrr! Rrrrrrun for yourrrrrr lives. . . . Back! Come near Irrrrrraktaan’s waterrrrr and you die! I am Irrrraktaan, mighty killerrrrrr!’

  16

  GREYPATCH’S EYE CAME close to Pakatugg, and the sea-rat’s tone was wheedling, almost friendly.

  ‘Now then, matey. You know the lay o’ the land ’ereabouts. Don’t be afeared of old Greypatch or none of this riffraff aboard the Darkqueen, you just tell me about all the snug little berths an’ cosy coves in this neck o’ the woods.’

  Pakatugg felt a little bolder now that the searat Captain had untied his paws and taken the noose from about his neck, but he was quite nervous about the horde of grinning searats who lounged on the deck around him. This one called Greypatch, though, he sounded different – maybe they could talk reasonably. Feeling naked without his blowpipe and darts, Pakatugg did his best to muster up a commanding tone.

  ‘There’s not much at all in this region. You’ve come to the wrong place. Far north’s where you want to be, that’s where all you types usually land.’

  Greypatch bent his head to one side and winked at the squirrel. ‘Aharr, is that so? What scurvy luck fer us, eh? Still, never you mind, we’ve landed up here, an’ here we’ll stay. Now I’ll ask you again, messmate, nice an’ polite as you please. I want somewhere with peace an’ plenty to settle down. Now where d’you suppose that’d be?’

  Pakatugg mistook Greypatch’s reassuring manner for weakness, and he decided to take a firm line with this ragamuffin rat and his tawdry bunch. After all, the hares always did it and creatures took notice of them.

  ‘Look, I’ve told you once, you’re wasting your time around here. Up north is much better for vermin like you!’

  Still smiling, Greypatch kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the deck. Looping a rope around Pakatugg’s footpaws, he rasped out an order;

  ‘Haul away, buckoes!’

  Pakatugg swung upside-down in midair, suspended above the deck as a gang of searats yanked him higher and higher on the rope.

  Greypatch shook his head sadly. ‘Did y’hear that, mates? He called us vermin!’

  Pakatugg swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he heard weapons being drawn.

  The searat Captain squinted his good eye at the hanging squirrel. ‘Have ye ever fed the fishes, squirrel?’

  ‘N-No. What d-do you f-feed ’em on?’

  A harsh roar of laughter went up from the crew. Greypatch drew his sword.

  ‘What do we feed ’em on? Why, you of course. Those liddle fishes’d be right partial to squirrel carved up into tasty strips.’

  He slashed at the end of the rope which was secured to the mast. Pakatugg came down on the deck with a bump. Greypatch drew a curved dagger from his belt. Using his sword blade like a butcher’s steel, he rubbed them together, putting a fine edge to the dagger blade. He grabbed the squirrel by the ear and brandished the dagger with a fearsome yell.

  ‘Start from the top and work down to the tail – that’s the best way!’

  ‘No wait! There’s an Abbey not far from here. They’ve got it all. Food, shelter, plunder – the lot! Spare me, please!’

  Greypatch put up his weapons and aimed a kick at the blubbering squirrel, “ere, Ringtail, Dripnose, take ’im below an’ put ’im in chains. Don’t be too gentle now, and don’t feed the slug too well. When I’m ready he’ll take us to this Abbey place. Ain’t that right, squirrel?’

  Pakatugg nodded vigorously, his tears staining the deck.

  Colonel Clary, Brigadier Thyme and Hon Rosie had stopped near the sand dunes to take refreshment and a short rest. Clary was lying back, voicing his thoughts to the other two.

  ‘No trouble so far, wot? Longeyes must have spotted the burnt-out ship a bit further up the coast. We’ll patrol further up and camp on the jolly old seashore tonight – might even try a shellfish stew, eh Rosie? Long time since you’ve cooked one. If we don’t catch sight of any bother by tomorrow afternoon late, we’ll head back to Salamandastron.’

  There was a w
hooshing noise and a trident buried itself in the sand not a paw’s-length from Thyme.

  ‘Ears down, chaps! Attack!’

  Throwing themselves flat facing three directions, the long patrol started instinctively pushing the sand around them into a barrier. The croaking of countless natterjacks filled the dunes.

  ‘Dig your slings and stones out, too many for lances,’ Clary called to his companions. ‘By the left! This is all we need, that villain Oykamon and his slimy mob attackin’ us when we’re out on a mission. By the right, centre and by the cringe, I’ll show ’em!’

  Hon Rosie slung a flat pebble at a toad charging over the hill. It connected with a splat, knocking the toad out like a light. ‘Whoohahahahoohah!’ she whooped. ‘That bagged the blighter. I’m pretty fair at slingin’. I’ll get that big fat rogue, you watch. Whoohahahahoohah! Good shot, Rosie!’

  Thyme waggled a paw in his ear between launching off missiles. ‘Stone me, Rosie. You could scare ’em all off with that pesky laughin’ of yours.’

  ‘Whoohahahaoohah! You are a card, Thyme, no mistake. Watch that feller to your left! Oh, never mind, I’ll lay him out. Howzat, middle an’ stump!’

  Clary got two toads with one of his special bouncing shots. ‘Corks! I say, there must be squillions of the reptiles. We’re goin’ to run out of stones before they run out of soldiers, I suspect.’

  Thyme banged the heads of two venturesome toads who had climbed the barricade, and they both fell back senseless.

  ‘One thing you can say about big chief Oykamon – he keeps his word. He said he’d be back with a full complement. We’re on a sticky wicket, Clary old lad. Any ideas?’

  Colonel Clary glanced up at the sky before launching off another stone. ‘Funny you should say that, Thyme. Matter of fact, I’ve come up with a pretty good wheeze, actually. It’ll soon be evenin’. Now the minute it starts gettin’ darkish, keep your eyes peeled for a sight of the old arch baddie himself, Oykamon. Rosie, you’re the best shot – choose yourself a jolly good big pebble. I want him knocked out cold. That’ll upset the lads of the sandhills, and they’ll prob’ly crowd round to see if he’s dead. Then we’ll make a run for it, go straight for the sea, just about paw-deep, and keep goin’ north. Toads aren’t too fussy on saltwater, so they’ll give up following us if we sprint fast enough. How’s your throwin’ paw, Rosie old gel?’