Mattimeo (Redwall) Read online

  ‘Strike me rudder I didn’t steal your rotten old cart I only wanted to play on it shiver me masts I ain’t messed it up or broke nothin’ on me affydavet I ’aven’t,’ he shouted in a continuous babble.

  Having said his piece, the otter bounded over the side of the cart towards the river, but Jess leapt with him and caught him by the scruff of his neck. The sword had sprung from Matthias’s smarting paws upon impact with the metal, and stood quivering in the earth a hair’s-breadth away from Basil’s injured paw.

  Matthias jammed his paws into his mouth. Sucking furiously, he did a small dance as vibrating pain lanced through them.

  Jess shook the fat little otter soundly. ‘Be still, you little wretch, or I’ll run you up a tall oak and drop you off the top!’

  Basil sniffed disdainfully, stepped around the sword and confronted the captive. ‘A little water pirate, eh? Right, laddie, name, rank and number. Quick as y’like now and no fibs, what’re you doin’ in that cart? Where’s your slaver band got to? What’ve you done with our young uns? Speak up, you blinkin’ rapscallion!’

  The small otter reached behind him and tickled Jess suddenly. She let go of him with a whoop. He looked at Matthias and nodded towards Basil.

  ‘Stow me oars, ’e’s a funny rabbit, that’n. Talks nice, though.’

  Matthias and Jess burst out laughing at the creature’s impudence.

  Basil stalked off towards the stream, muttering to himself in a huff, ‘Funny rabbit, indeed. No manners at all these water-wallopers. Shouldn’t be surprised if his mother’s tattooed and chews shrimp a lot.’

  Matthias sat down in a dry spot under the cart and beckoned to the otter.

  ‘C’mere, young un. Come and talk to me. I’ve got a son about your age. Come on, you’ve no need to be frightened.’

  The little fat otter laughed. He flung himself under the cart and kicked at the axles and wheel spokes.

  ‘Heehee, this is better’n playin’ on top of the cart,’ he giggled. ‘My name’s Cheek. What’s yours?’

  ‘Matthias of Redwall. What are you doing here, Cheek?’

  ‘Oh, just playin’ and sportin’. I like playin’ and sportin’. D’you?’

  ‘I did when I was your age. Tell me, were there any other creatures with this cart when you first saw it?’

  ‘Stow me oars, I’ll say there was. Two wicked old weasels, they called theyselves Deadnose an’ Fengal. I stowed meself in the bushes an’ watched ’em, so I did.’

  Basil and Jess came to join Matthias when they heard this. Cheek looked from the squirrel to the hare. ‘What’s your names, you two?’ he asked.

  ‘Cheek’s the right name for you, me laddo,’ Basil snorted. ‘You tell us what those two weasels were saying.’

  Cheek giggled again. ‘Heehee, tell you nothin’ ‘til you tell me your names.’

  Matthias nudged Basil. ‘Tell him your name and let him get on with his information.’

  ‘What? Oh, righto. Allow me to introduce meself, young Cheek. I’m Basil Stag Hare, veteran scout and retired foot fighter, doncha know.’

  Cheek giggled yet again. He was an inveterate giggler.

  ‘Barrel Stick Chair? Silly name. Who’s the mouse with the brush on her tail?’

  Basil went a peculiar shade of red around his ears and cheeks. He was about to give Cheek a piece of his mind when Jess interrupted.

  ‘My name is Jess Squirrel. How do you do?’

  Cheek rattled a twig around the wheelspokes. ‘I’m fine, Jeff. How are you?’

  Jess was about to grab the young otter and teach him some manners when Matthias gave her a wink and signalled his haversack.

  ‘Mmmm, I’m about ready for a late lunch, what d’you say to a vegetable pastie and a drop of cider, Jess?’

  Jess opened her pack. ‘I think I’ll have a bilberry muffin and some cheese.’

  Basil undid his haversack. ‘Er, lessee, I fancy a few slices of nutbread and some candied chestnuts. Yes, that should be just the ticket.’

  They pulled out the food and began eating with much munching, slurping and satisfied sighs. Cheek reached for a candied chestnut, but Basil slapped his paw.

  ‘I’m ’ungry,’ the little otter said, giving them what he thought was a pitiful look.

  Basil licked crumbs from his whiskers. ‘So you’re ’ungry, eh? That’s funny, I thought you were Cheek.’

  Cheek attempted a half-giggle. ‘H’hee, no, I mean I want food.’

  Matthias nibbled the end of his pastie. ‘Ah good, we’re acting sensible at last. Right, information first, food later.’

  Cheek eyed the food longingly. ‘Well, them two weasels I was tellin’ you of, they said to each other: “Let’s dump the cart here and get back to the others.” That was Fengal, of course. Then Deadnose, he says: “Right, mate, I’m sick of trailin’ this old thing around the forest in the rain. If we dump it here and now we can be back with Slagar and the rest by tomorrow night.” Then they just leaves it ’ere an’ off they goes. An’ that’s all I ’eard, so where’s me vittles?’

  Jess covered the food with her haversack. ‘Not so fast. Which way did they go and how long ago was that?’

  Cheek waved his right paw. ‘Straight that way, must ’ave been about mid-mornin’ or so.’

  Basil stopped him as he made for the food again. ‘Just two more things, you little blot. What’s my name and what is that good lady squirrel called?’

  Cheek looked seriously hungry. ‘You’re Basil Stag Hare and that squirrel’s called Jess.’

  ‘Aye, and don’t you forget it, young rip. Come on, tuck in.’

  Cheek went at the food like a savage wolfpack. What he couldn’t swallow he packed into his cheeks like a hamster, and what he couldn’t pack into his cheeks he tried to grab with his paws. Chuckling, Basil rolled him from under the wagon.

  ‘I’d sooner keep you a day than a season, Cheek. Go on, be off with you now, back to your mum and dad.’

  Cheek swallowed enough to allow himself to speak. ‘Mums’n’dads? Cheek doesn’t ’ave mums’n’dads. I want to go with you.’

  Matthias shook his head. ‘I’m afraid it’s a long and dangerous journey. You might get hurt.’

  Cheek giggled and rolled under the wagon again. ‘Cheek doesn’t get ’urt. Take me with you if I give you some more information, good information, somethin’ that only Cheek knows at the moment,’ he begged.

  They looked at one another. Basil and Jess nodded. Matthias thought for a moment, then he too nodded.

  ‘Go on then, Cheek. Give us your good information and maybe we’ll let you come with us,’ the warrior mouse agreed.

  Cheek sprang from underneath the cart and spread his paws wide. ‘It’s stopped rainin’. ’ow’s that for good information?’

  Basil clapped his paws together. ‘Absolutely top-hole, Cheek old lad. Top marks for ingenuity. Matthias, I think we need a brainy feller like this if we’re to get anywhere. What d’you say?’

  The warrior mouse picked up his sword. ‘Aye, top marks for sheer cheek. Well, come on then, sir, seeing as you’ve no mum or dad, but behave yourself.’

  The sky had ceased its weeping over Mossflower. Grey clouds started rolling back to reveal a powder-blue vault above, and warmth began seeping through to dry the woodlands as the sun continued its journey into summer. White feathery steam rose in banks off trees, grass, flowers and shrubs as the four companions stepped out on the track the two weasels had taken.

  Toward evening, Mrs Churchmouse led the members of the original search party back through the main gates of Redwall Abbey. She made her report to Constance and the Abbot, showing them the empty food bag they had found on the road.

  ‘We travelled north until midday, then we turned back for Matthias, Basil and Jess, wondering what had become of them. When we reached the spot we had rested at in the morning we found this.’

  Abbot Mordalfus turned the bag over and read the wording that had been written in charcoal. ‘East thro’ woods, signs of
cart. B. S. Hare.’

  Constance inspected the bag. ‘Good, they’ve found tracks. If ever there were three who could follow a trail, fight an enemy and bring the young ones back, it’s Matthias, Basil and Jess.’

  Mrs Churchmouse’s lip quivered. ‘Oh, I do wish I could have gone with them, just to see my Tim and Tess again.’

  Constance patted her paw. ‘There, there. Don’t upset yourself. We all would have liked to have gone with them, though you had more right than most. Those three won’t rest until the young ones are safe, you’ll see. Why, one day pretty soon now I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear banging on the gate and find Matthias, Basil and Jess standing there with the young ones looking hungry as hawks and ready for supper. Why don’t you go and see how baby Rollo is? He’s been asking after you, and Cornflower will have a nice bowl of mint tea waiting for you. Look in on Mr Churchmouse too. You’ll find he’s a lot better.’

  Mrs Churchmouse sniffled a bit then smiled. ‘Thank you, Constance, you are so kind and thoughtful. My my, just look at all the mud and wet on these clothes. I’d better go and put some nice clean dry ones on.’

  When Mrs Churchmouse had departed, Constance turned to the Abbot.

  ‘Gone east, eh,’ she mused. ‘Seems funny, taking the north road and then turning east. Why didn’t they just leave through the east gate and go direct through Mossflower? It would have got them to where they were going a lot quicker if they really were travelling east.’

  The Abbot sat forward in his chair. ‘Exactly! If they really were travelling east. I don’t like it, Constance. Foxes were ever the sly ones. Who can tell what goes on in the mind of a thief and a trickster. I am not at all happy about this whole affair, though I’ve no doubt that Matthias, Basil and Jess will sort it out and win through eventually. But suppose they are following a false trail?’

  ‘What could we do about it?’ The big badger shrugged. ‘We are in Redwall, they are out there, somewhere. Goodness knows where; Mossflower is a big country.’

  The Abbot touched a paw to the side of his head. ‘They are the doers, we are the thinkers. Do not forget, this Abbey was built by doers, but it took thinkers to conceive the plans.’

  ‘I agree, Father Abbot, but how do we go about helping them by thinking?’

  The Abbot rose from his chair and picked up a lantern. ‘Sleep, my old friend. Dreams are a good starting place. Dream and think, of Redwall, of Matthias and our friends, of the young ones taken captive and of the evil ones who hold them in bondage. Come and see me in the morning. We will breakfast together and tell each other what we dreamed and thought.’

  Constance smiled. The old Abbot made it all sound so simple, but the best answers were the simplest, when all was said and done.

  The evening sun sank slowly in the west as the bells tolled out over Redwall, heralding the calm after the storm.

  15

  WITH THE PASSING of the rains, hot sunlight lanced through the upper foliage, and white steam tendrils curled and wraithed, climbing between the golden sunshafts to escape on the warm thermals. Mattimeo grunted with exertion as he pulled his paws from a morass of earth and leaves which the dragging limbs of the column were laboriously pounding into thick mud. Chained paws, warm soggy habits and the driving canes of the slavers gave little relief to the caravan of young animals. The running chain snagged between branches, got caught around bushes and tripped them when they least expected it. Sam caught a quick drink of water trickling from the broad stems of wild rhubarb, and he managed to grab a pawful of cloudberries as he passed, signalling to the others where they grew so they could follow his example. Auma munched the pitiful repast as she conversed with Tim in low tones.

  ‘I’ve lost all sense of direction. All I know now is whether it’s night or day,’ she remarked.

  Tim trudged stolidly on. ‘We’re travelling south. Where to, I don’t know. I’ve been watching the signs my parents taught me to look for if ever I got lost in the woodlands; moss on trees, the position of the sun, even the earth down this way is different, more stones in the soil. You can take my word for it, Auma. South it is.’

  Mattimeo joined in the conversation. ‘I know we’re tired and worn out, but pass the word along. Keep alert for the chance to escape, Slagar and his band must be as weary as we are.’

  Tim shrugged. ‘How are we supposed to escape, chained together like this?’

  Cynthia Bankvole listened to them talking and began to get very upset. ‘Please, don’t escape and leave me here, I couldn’t bear it.’

  Mattimeo ground his teeth together. ‘Don’t worry, Cynthia. If we escape we’ll take you with us.’

  ‘Oh, no, leave me here,’ Cynthia begged. ‘Slagar would catch me and beat me and break my legs and leave me to die in a ditch, I’d be too afraid to escape.’

  Mattimeo was about to ask Cynthia just what it was she really wanted, when he checked himself.

  ‘Hush now, Cynthia,’ Tess soothed her. ‘Don’t you fret, we won’t make you do anything you don’t wish to do. Listen, there’s probably a whole army from Redwall out searching for us. Who knows, they might not be far behind us.’

  Auma became excited. ‘Of course! Mattimeo’s father is a great warrior. I’ll bet he’s gathered all his fighting friends together and is hot on our trail. I know my father will be searching, though he’s a plains badger and I’m not too sure whether he knows his way about in woodland.’

  Mattimeo shook his head reprovingly at Tess. ‘Who’s being unkind now, eh, Tess? Don’t you realize we’ve had a couple of days’ heavy rain? Not even Basil Stag Hare could follow our trail through that, and we’re well clear of the Redwall area now. Another thing, I’d like to bet that Slagar has laid some sort of false track to put them off the scent. You’re only raising vain hopes by talking of things like that.’

  ‘Well any hope’s better than none!’ Tess sniffed.

  A stoat called Badrag strode past them, waving his cane.

  ‘Come on, come on, less gabbin’ and more marchin’, you lot. The faster you march the quicker you’ll get to rest. Move yourselves now, step lively.’

  He carried on up the line, urging others on. When he was out of earshot Sam spoke up.

  ‘I think Mattimeo is right. We should be trying to help ourselves and not waiting for others. I know there’ll be a big search party out from Redwall, but it’d take a miracle to find us in this deep woodland after all that rain. The only thing I’d say is do the sensible thing, don’t try any silly moves, and if any creature sees the chance of an escape, let us know so that we can organize it properly. Cynthia was right when she said what Slagar would do to anybody he caught trying to escape.’

  Vitch darted through the bushes. He caught Sam a glancing blow, which was partly softened by the young squirrel’s bushy tail.

  ‘You talk too much, squirrel. Talking’s not allowed between slaves. Another word out of you and I’ll whack you proper!’

  Sam’s eyes narrowed and he growled dangerously at Vitch. The undersized rat swung the willow cane at him. With a lightning-fast move, Sam snatched the willow withe and snapped it. He flung the broken cane at Vitch, his teeth showing white and sharp.

  ‘One day I’m going to get free of these chains, rat,’ Sam vowed. ‘When I do, all the canes in the forest won’t stop me getting you!’

  ‘That’s if I don’t get him first!’ Mattimeo interrupted.

  Vitch’s nerve failed him. He dashed off up the line.

  ‘Yah, you won’t get loose where you’re going!’ he called back.

  The rat ran straight into Slagar. The fox cuffed him soundly and threw him to the ground.

  ‘Stow the noise, addlebrains! The rest of you, get the prisoners between those two big firs over there and secure the line chain. Threedaws, come with me. I saw something interesting a while back. Wartclaw, you and Badrag are in charge. Feed that lot and keep ’em quiet. Be ready to travel the moment I return. Got that?’

  ‘Aye, aye, Chief.’

 
The captives found good dry grass to lie upon. It was nearing sunset now, and songbirds were shrilling their last plaintive tunes before nightfall. Cynthia Bankvole found some dried moss, which they stuffed between the manacles and their limbs. It was comforting and soothing. Tim shared some wild fennel and green acorns he had gathered on the day’s march.

  Auma lay with her chin on her paws, staring into the forest ahead of them. She was very tired and thinking of nothing in particular when she found herself staring into the eyes of a large frilled newt. The creature winked at her with his flat moist eyes.

  ‘Little stripedog all chained up. Sillybeast, why d’you lettem do that to yer?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve been captured by Slagar and his band. Who are you?’ Auma whispered urgently as she called the others with a wave of her paw.

  Mattimeo prodded Cynthia. ‘Keep an eye on the guards. Let’s see what this fellow has to say.’

  The newt crawled a little closer, lying low to keep his bright red underbelly from showing.

  ‘Name’s Scurl Droptail. Too clever to lettem chain me up. See ’em pass here before, fox an’ weaselfellers.’

  ‘Scurl, can you help us?’ Mattimeo tried hard to keep his voice calm.

  The newt blinked and wobbled his crest. ‘Why’ll Scurl help you sillybeasts? Not lendin’ yer my keys.’

  ‘He’s got keys!’ Tess murmured to Mattimeo so Scurl could not hear. ‘We must try to borrow them.’

  Mattimeo licked dry lips, then spoke earnestly to the newt.

  ‘Scurl, you must realize our position. We’re in danger, we might never see our homes again. You must lend us your keys. I promise we won’t keep them. We only want to borrow them for a moment.’

  The newt closed his eyes and shot his tongue in and out as if he were in deep thought. Then one eye opened.

  ‘Wotchergot? Cummon, wotchergot, ’ey? It’ll cost you, oh yes, cost you. Scurl’s keys don’t borrow fer nothin’ no, no.’