The mean-featured feral cat rapped out tersely, “I never gives an order twice, Lord. When I gives the word, they jumps to it, sharpish!”
Riggu Felis nodded approvingly. “Good, I like that. Well, scorecat, you have two new recruits in your troop as of now. Take these two useless objects out of my sight. See if you can knock them into shape. Have them fitted out as the lowest of your guards.”
He paused, watching the effect upon his sons. Jeefra looked stunned with shock, but Pitru narrowed his eyes lazily and gave a scornful snort. Riggu continued. “Show them no favours and cut them no slack. Use that willow cane on both of them. Let the order be lots of chores, little sleep and plenty of guard duty. Understood?”
Keeping his eyes straight ahead, Groodl swished the willow. “Understood, Lord. Do I bring ’em back to you an’ their mother every night?”
The chain mail tinkled as the warlord shook his head. “No no, let them live in the barracks with the other guards. If Lady Kaltag asks to see them, send her to me.”
Jeefra fell down weeping as he grovelled at his father’s footpaws. “Please, Father, I beg you, don’t do this to me! Don’t send me to the barracks! I swear I’ll change, no more quarrelling or arguing anymore. Mercy, please!”
Riggu Felis turned his face away, nodding to Groodl. “You’ve had your orders, take them away.”
Jeefra had to be carried bodily between four guards, wailing and sobbing brokenly. Pitru did not resist; he merely sneered at his father. “I still have lots of seasons before me, but you’re growing older. I can wait, you’ll see.”
Ignoring Groodl, he sauntered off toward the barracks. The wildcat chieftain was silent a moment, then pointed at Pitru’s receding back.
“Atunra, mark him well. That one will grow to be a dangerous beast someday.”
The pine marten bowed. “Just as you were at his age, Master.”
The chain mail half-mask sucked inward briefly. “Aye, that’s what troubles me.”
Sunset’s crimson curtain faded to dusk, merging into restful darkness. Lights appeared at the fortress turret slits. Two sentry fires burned bright, one to the left of the pier, the other to the right side. Held between the otterwives, Chab’s young ones were sleeping.
Banya Streamdog and six sturdy otters emerged from the waters beneath the pier, firelight playing off their sleek backs as they moved like night shades, with scarcely a ripple to betray their presence. Holding a paw to her lips, Banya made for the otterwives, whispering to them, “Wait and be ready when Lorgo gives the signal!”
Hope surged through Whulky and Chab as the tall, sinewy Lorgo Galedeep surfaced alongside them. “Stay put, mates. Ye can’t make a move until the action starts. Chab, don’t fret, bhoyo, I’ve brought some champion riverdogs to git yore babies away safe.”
Leatho Shellhound, accompanied by a dozen armed otters, stole from the lake, a short way from the left side of the pier. Directing them by signals, he sent his warriors in a long arc around to the darkness behind the fire. The outlaw set a stone to his sling and waited. Soon he was rewarded by the call of a nightjar from the right side of the pier. Big Kolun and his band had surfaced and were in position. Leatho whirled his sling, aiming at the backside of a catguard who was leaning on his spear close to the fire.
It was a perfect shot: The stone struck its target, not slaying the cat but creating the desired effect. Arching his back and yowling in pain, the catguard stumbled into the flames at the fire’s edge. His companions swiftly hauled him back, shouting out in confusion.
“That was a slingstone! What’s goin’ on?”
“Somebeast’s out there, look!”
The outlaw ran forward, whirling his sling as he yelled out a challenge. “Yerra, ye mangy scum, the Shellhound’s a-comin’!”
Guards jumped down from the pier to join the others. They advanced on Leatho cautiously, wondering if he had brought clanbeasts with him. The outlaw bolstered their confidence: He slung off a few more stones, carefully calculated to miss them. Roaring with laughter, he danced a jig on the lakeshore, then scampered off into the water.
One of the scorecats urged the rest forward, shouting to them, “It’s a single otter. Mad fool, what’s he up to? Get him!”
They charged forward but halted at the water’s edge. Aware that the cats were fearful of water, Leatho swam out a short way, then commenced taunting them.
“Come on, ye mangy-tailed cowards! Scared o’ gettin’ yore paws wet, are ye?”
Spears, lances and arrows were hurled at him. Right at the last moment he submerged, only to pop up again in another place.
“Is that the best ye can do? Send out yore best warrior! Hah, that’d be ole half-face, wouldn’t it? I hear he was defeated by a bird—was it a sparrow or a wren?!”
Whilst the diversion was being created, Leatho’s crew came out of the firelight and began attacking the catguards’ rear. Roused by the commotion, Riggu Felis bounded out onto the pier, single-bladed axe in paw. He was accompanied by Weilmark Scaut, who recognised Leatho’s voice. “It’s the Shellhound, I’ve got a score t’settle with that ’un!”
The warlord dropped on all fours, peering through the board spaces to assure himself that the captives were still there, bound to the pier struts. Straightening up, he growled, “Then get down there and take him alive, Scaut. Alive, d’ye hear me? Get some of those otterslave fishing boats and cut him off, encircle him. But remember, I want him alive!”
As the weilmark went off to do his bidding, Riggu Felis turned to Groodl and his guards, who were grouped around the fire on the right lakeshore. “Over here, quick, all of you. Follow Weilmark Scaut!”
Jeefra and Pitru, newly fitted out with helmets, jerkins and spears, were among the group who hurried off to the left.
As soon as the fire on the right was deserted, Big Kolun and his crew emerged from the shadows, thrusting their torches into the flames. Then they began hurling them at the huge timber fortress. Riggu Felis leaped aside as a blazing torch landed on the pier close to him. With his chain mail mask glittering weirdly in the light of the flames, he called urgently to the guards deployed on the left shore.
“Scaut, get your command back over here! They’re trying to fire the other side of the fortress!”
The weilmark was loth to leave the outlaw Shellhound uncaptured. He issued swift orders to Groodl. “Scorecat, keep half your cats on shore, send the rest out in the boats. Remember, he must be taken alive. The rest of you, follow me!”
The otters they had been fighting suddenly dispersed into the darkness, leaving Scaut’s contingent a free path back. Jeefra and Pitru both wielded paddles in one of the six fishing coracles on the lake. In unexperienced paws, the little craft blundered about as Leatho drew them away in a wild chase.
Once the left shore was clear of guards, the otters came out of the shadows again. Making for the fire, they did exactly as Kolun and his crew had. Igniting more torches from the blaze, they hurled them at the left side of the fortress, causing widespread confusion.
Riggu Felis was screeching hoarsely as he ran hither and thither. “Over here, some of you! Scaut, split your troop, get half of them around to the left side. Hurry!”
Lorgo Galedeep and Banya Streamdog slashed through the captives’ bonds. In the chaos which reigned overhead, prisoners were the last thing on any foebeast’s mind. Chab’s young ones were strapped firmly to the backs of three champion Streambattle swimmers.
Banya and a few of her clanmates surrounded the two otterwives. “Don’t forget now, underwater an’ straight out. Follow the three carryin’ yore little ’uns. They’ll take ye over to the right shore. We’ve spotted a landin’ place there that’s well away from this lot, quiet an’ hidden. Move now, there ain’t much time t’waste!”
Lorgo and some of his stalwarts pushed Chab and Whulky after them. “Follow Banya. No need t’look back, we’re right behind ye, mateys!”
Out on the lake, Leatho was keeping the coracles chasing after him, making
sure they held to the left shore, where he knew they would not come into contact with the escaping slaves.
Groodl was shouting orders to his coracle crews from the shore. “Don’t throw those spears, idiots! Hold on to ’em and try to stab ’im. You guards with bows, don’t go shootin’ at shadows, try t’get a clear target. D’ye hear me?”
What they did not know was that there were now eight otters in the water, not just one. They began popping up in different places, taking turns at mocking the catguards.
“Ahoy there, scruffywhiskers, I’m over here!”
“Ye don’t want him, fishbrain, I’m the one yore lookin’ for!”
“Belay there, I’m the Shellhound, not that ’un!”
Water sloshed over the sides of the flimsy craft as they wallowed about on the dark lake. Guards wobbled to keep their balance as they hurled spears and fired arrows willy-nilly, completely ignoring their scorecat’s orders as they sought to silence their foes.
Groodl was hopping and leaping about in the shallows, ranting hoarsely, “Ye bunglin’ mudheads, they’re makin’ fools of ye!”
Atunra came hurrying from the pier with Riggu’s latest order. “Lord Felis says you must break off searching for Shellhound. Call those boats in immediately. We need everybeast on the bucket line!”
Catguards were passing buckets, jugs, bowls and pails, paw to paw, in a line which stretched from the pier end to the fortress. Water hissed and sizzled as they threw it on the flames around the base of the fortress. The guards in the coracles had been lured a fair way out onto the lake. They were only too glad when they heard their scorecat yelling for them to return to shore.
Leatho surfaced and almost bumped heads with Kolun. The big fellow was grinning from ear to ear. “Felis ain’t holdin’ prisoners no more, buckoe. Our crews got ’em well away an’ safe. What now?”
The outlaw nodded toward the retreating coracles. “Let’s teach a few o’ those landlubbers a lesson!”
Big Kolun shot them a scornful glance. “My babes make a better shape at rowin’ than that lot!”
Only three vessels made it to the safety of land. Between them, the two otters overturned the other three. Yowls, splashes and splutters of cats rent the night air as they were tipped into the water. Leatho and Kolun swam smoothly off, satisfied that their plan to free their otterfriends had succeeded.
The last craft that the otters had tipped upside down was the one containing Jeefra and Pitru. Both cats went under immediately, but Pitru was the first to surface. He hauled himself up onto the hull of the coracle and grabbed a paddle from the water. He had made scarcely a stroke shoreward when the vessel heeled, lurching perilously over to one side. Jeefra had a tight hold of it, digging his claws into the birchbark covering as he strove wildly to pull himself aboard. He was in a mad panic, choking and spluttering between mouthfuls of water.
“Help me, help! Don’t let me drown, Pitru!”
Pitru glanced around at the other survivors. They were all floundering toward land, oblivious to what was going on behind them. Pitru bared his fangs as he brought the paddle down twice, as hard as he could—the first time, on Jeefra’s paws and the second on Jeefra’s head.
Throwing the paddle away, Pitru flattened himself on the upturned hull, staring into the dark waters that Jeefra had disappeared under. Then he began paddling landward with his paws, crying out pitifully, “Jeefra, where are you? Has anybeast seen my poor brother?”
Riggu Felis had spoken truly when he had said that one day his son would become a dangerous beast.
9
Brother Perant would not allow Tiria, Tribsy or Brinty back into his Infirmary, even though they pleaded with him. Standing in the doorway, he blocked the entrance, resisting all their efforts.
“No, no, ’tis out of the question, I’m afraid. Those two birds are under my care. I cannot risk you stirring up any more squabbles between them. Please go away!”
But the ottermaid continued trying to reason with him. “I promise you we won’t, Brother, really. It’s most important that I speak with them. If we can’t come in, then perhaps you could allow them to come out. You have my solemn word we’ll return them to you as soon as I have the information we require.”
The Infirmary Keeper could be rather stubborn when he had a mind to, a quality he viewed more as a virtue than a fault. “Allow them out? Certainly not, miss! The birds are both injured creatures. They need to recover under my care. That’s my final word. Now be off with you!”
Perant was about to slam the door when Abbess Lycian arrived upon the scene with the hogbabe Grumby in tow. The Dibbun hid behind her habit, sucking on his paw.
Lycian smiled disarmingly. “Ah, Brother Perant, have you a moment to spare for a wounded kitchen helper?”
The little hogbabe was still sucking lustily on his paw as the Abbess ushered him forward. “Tell Brother Perant what happened to you.”
Lycian removed the paw from Grumby’s mouth so he could speak. “I’m hurted meself, Bruvva, sticked me pore likkle paw onna ’ot h’oven an’ cookered it!”
The good Brother forgot his stubborness, softening instantly. “Oh lack a day and dearie me! Friar Bibble never told me we were having small cooked hogpaws for supper. Come in, young sir, let’s see what we can do about your poor paw!”
Grumby hung back reluctantly. “Baby Taggle say you gonna choppa off me paw wivva big knife. Then she say you choppa me tail off, too!”
Crouching down level with Grumby, the healer chuckled. “Don’t you take any notice of Dibbun Taggle, she’s a dreadful fibber. Wait until I see her . . . why, I’ll put nasty ointment on her tongue and bandage it up!”
Grumby giggled at the idea. “Tharra teach ’er to fib!”
Perant led him into the Infirmary. “I’ll tell you how I treat cooked paws. First, I bathe them in nice cool water. Then I apply some soothing salve and a dressing. While I’m doing this, you can use your good paw to help yourself to some candied chestnuts from my special jar. How does that sound to you, sir?”
Grumby rattled his spikes with pleasure. “Sounders fine t’me, Bruvva. . . . Yeek, the big birdies gonna h’eat me!”
He scooted out of the Infirmary, straight into Tiria’s paws. Recognising an opportunity, she smiled winningly at Perant. “I’m sure they wouldn’t, but he’s only a Dibbun, probably never seen a hawk or a goose close-up, Brother. Please, won’t you reconsider letting us take them off your paws for a while so you can attend to little Grumby?”
Though Lycian did not know exactly what was going on, she spoke up on behalf of Tiria and her friends. “The birds won’t come to any harm with these young ones, Brother. They’re almost fully grown-up now. I’ll keep an eye on them, too. What do you say, friend?”
Besides being stubborn, Perant was also highly conscious of Abbey protocol and courtesy. He bowed gravely. “If that is your wish, Mother Abbess!”
Afternoon tea was being served on the front lawn, not far from the gatehouse. Redwallers broke off momentarily, some of them showing apprehension at the arrival of an osprey and a barnacle goose. Lycian reassured them calmly.
“We’ve brought some friends to tea. This is Brantalis, and this is Pandion. They’re very well-mannered. Do make them welcome, please.”
Tribsy, like all the younger creatures, greatly admired the ease with which Lycian was able to deal with everybeast, even though many of the Abbey’s residents were older than their Abbess. “Burr, you’m surrpinkly gotten ee way abowt you’m, marm. H’ole Perant bee’d abowt to shoo us’n’s off, but you’m soon fixered ’im. Hurr hur, naow you’m a settlin’ h’eveybeast completeful to ease with ee gurt burds!”
Tiria and Lycian took the birds to the buffet table, allowing them to choose what they liked. Brantalis opted for soft cheese and watercress sandwiches, which he immersed in a bowl of pea and cabbage soup and gobbled down with evident relish. Pandion favoured preserved fruits and a leek and mushroom turnover, both of which he seemed to enjoy. The Redwallers dinin
g nearby were amused by the barnacle goose’s quaint mode of speech.
“This good food, I am thinking it is very likeful. Soon I am thinking I will try some of that tireful!”
Brinty laughed. “That’s called trifle, not tireful. I’m sure you’ll like it. Maybe Pandion will, too.”
The great fish hawkpecked at his turnover pastry crust. “Kraaah! I will have the soup with watershrimps in it. Pandion likes watershrimp!”
Tiria interrupted politely. “It’s also a favourite among otters. Actually, all Redwall vittles are good. But first I must ask you some questions.”
A group of Dibbuns had formed a ring on the lawn. They flexed their tiny limbs, hopping about, as Sister Doral, the Abbey Beekeeper, tuned up her fiddle.
Once prepared, the jolly Sister called out, “Please take your places for the Bee Dance. Abbess Lycian and Hillyah, will you oblige us by singing the verses?” Without further ado, she struck up the lively introduction.
Brantalis began bobbing his head up and down in time with the tune. “Music is good! Tiria, I am thinking I will be answering your questions not now. Later!”
Pandion commenced tapping his talons upon a platter. “Dances, I like dances and song. Kreeeekyaaaaaarr!”
Tiria watched the pair, surprised that they wanted to watch and listen. She settled back with a sigh. “Be my guests, please. I’ll wait until it’s finished.”
Within moments, the ottermaid was tapping her rudder along with the infectious tune.
“Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for
me!
Fly o’er lawn and buzz o’er lea,
fetch that honey for my tea,
visit all your special flowers
blooming through the summer hours.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
Woodruff clover poppy thyme,
spurrey sorrel columbine,
dogrose heather harebell blue,
violet pansy speedwell too.