Eulalia! (13 page)

Orkwil shook his head, feigning sadness. “Well, there's gratitude for you, after me savin' his life. If I'd known he was goin' to be so nasty I wouldn't have invited you along, my friend.”

The vole looked over his shoulder, to see whom the young hedgehog was addressing. His jaw dropped at the sight of the huge badger carrying a pitchfork. Dropping both club and dagger, the terrified beast took to his paws and fled into the woodlands.

Orkwil began raking the loam from off the cooked trout. “Dearie me, I never knew voles could run as fast as that. D'you think it was somethin' I said?”

Squatting down beside the cooking pit, Gorath helped to lift the delicious repast out onto the bank.

“Who knows, perhaps he didn't feel very hungry?” For the first time, Orkwil saw his friend smile. Indicating the fish, the young hedgehog smiled back. “I'll wager you feel hungry, mate. Look, why don't you stop here, eat your fill and rest. I can make it to the Abbey alone, yore too weary an' ill to travel far. I'll get help sent out to you, just take it easy, you've been through enough.”

Gorath used the vole's dagger to share out the meal. “Eat up and don't talk so much, Orkwil. I'm coming with you, just as I've been ordered to.”

The young hedgehog looked oddly at his companion. “Ordered to, wot d'ye mean?”

Gorath explained, “While I was chained to the mast of that ship, I saw things in my mind. A mouse who carried a sword spoke to me, he told me to watch for the young thief. You told me yourself that you were the thief, remember, when you were opening the locks. That mouse halted my Bloodwrath. Do you know what Bloodwrath is?”

Orkwil shook his head, so Gorath continued.

“My grandparents called it the affliction of Badger Warriors. It is a rage for battle that cannot be stopped. When the Bloodwrath strikes I lose all control of myself. Nothing can stand against me in my lust for slaughter, nothing but death itself.”

Orkwil's voice sounded very small. “I saw it on the ship, when you seized the fox, it looked as if yore eyes were filled with blood.”

Gorath nodded. “Aye, that was Bloodwrath, I would have attacked that full vermin crew. But in this weakened state, they would have overcome me with their numbers. It was the sword mouse who brought me out of it. He appeared in my mind, and told me to go to Redwall with you. So don't try to stop me, little friend, eat this food and we'll be on our way.”

Orkwil began wolfing down the food, talking with his mouth full. “Right, I'll try not to stop you, mate. Anyhow, I lost my staff in the swamp, so I couldn't really, could I?”

Gorath passed the vole's club and dagger to him. “You'd best take these.”

Orkwil could see Gorath was smiling. He brandished the weapons, slitting his eyes fiercely. “There, how do I look now, eh?”

The young badger managed a straight face. “Oh, very savage, a real terror I'd say!”

Orkwil took a last mouthful of food and licked his paws. “Come on, then, let's go to Redwall, mate! Oh, before I forget, there's something there that I want you to see.”

They set off along the bankside together, the badger's curiosity was aroused. “What's that?”

“Just a friend of yours, the sword mouse, is that what you called him?” Orkwil winked broadly, and would not say anything further.

 

Dawn glimmered through the trees onto the River Moss. Vizka Longtooth lay asleep in his cabin, gradually coming awake to the sound of voices outside his cabin door.

“Yew tell 'im, Glurma, 'twas ye wot found 'im!” Firty's remark was followed by the cook's denial.

“Ho no, mate, yew see'd 'im afore I did, I was on'y da one who tripped up over 'im on me way t'the galley.”

Jungo interrupted Glurma. “Why don't youse both tell de cap'n t'gether?”

Firty rounded on him irately. “Why don't yew tell 'im, bigmouth, go on. March in dere an' say, ‘Cap'n, I got news for ye, Codj is dead'!”

The cabin door flew open, knocking Firty flat, and smacking the rat cook in her bulging stomach. Vizka grabbed Jungo by the neck. “My brudder dead, where, 'ow?”

The hapless weasel's windpipe was constricted, he gurgled, “Gollawolla me, Clap'n, yer krokklin' me!”

Glurma rubbed her stomach with one paw, gesturing with the other. “Over dere by d'mast, 'e's over dere!”

The golden fox rushed to the spot. Hardly paying any attention to the crumpled figure of his brother, he stared wildly around, yelling, “Where's der stripe'ound an' dat 'edgepig?”

Bilger, who had just appeared on deck, took in the situation at a glance. “Gone, Cap'n!”

It was the wrong thing to say. Vizka felled him with a hard blow, and jumped up and down on him, roaring, “I kin see dey're gone, mud'ead! But who saw 'em, an' where've dey gone to?”

The rest of the crew had turned out to see what all the commotion was about. Vizka rounded on them. “Don't jus' stan' there, do sumthin', go an' track 'em!”

Keeping her distance, Glurma the cook called out, “None of dem kin track, Cap'n, we ain't got a trail follerer aboard!”

Vizka kicked the prone form of Bilger. “Den go an' find one an' bring 'im back 'ere!”

There was a mass scramble as the vermin followed Bilger to the rail, nobeast wanted to stay aboard with their captain in his present mood. About ten made it into the river, when Vizka halted the rest.

“Git back 'ere, it don't take all of youse to find a tracker. Line up there, where I kin see ye!”

The remainder of the crew formed a haphazard line. They stood staring at the deck, as Vizka paced up and down in front of them, glaring.

“Wot a crew, eh? Y'spends yer lives snorin' an' eatin', huh, dat's when yer not swiggin' grog. Lettin' prisoners escape, dat's all yore good for!” He went to the tiller and leaned on it, shaking his head. “An' dere's my pore brudder, deader'n a stone. Codj was worth more'n all of ya put t'gether, now 'e's gotta be laid t'rest. Dogleg, Patchy, find some sailcloth an' wrap Codj up in it. Bind it round wid dat chain, so 'e'll sink. Firty, make up some nice, fittin' werds to say for when my brudder goes overboard.”

The two stoats, Dogleg and Patchy, parcelled the carcass of Codj up in a length of sailcloth. They bound it with the chain which Gorath had been locked to. Six crewbeasts bore the bundle to the rail, where they balanced it. Firty stepped forward at a nod from his captain, and dirged the eulogy he had hurriedly put together about Codj.

Vizka gave the bundle its required shove, sending it overboard. The golden fox wiped water from his eye, which some of the crew mistook for a tear, but it was only caused by a splash as Codj hit the river. A shout came from the bank foliage.

“Ahoy, Cap'n, we found ye a tracker!”

Bilger and his mates scrambled aboard, dragging with them a creature who was not having the happiest of days. It was the watervole. Bilger sent him sprawling with a well-aimed kick. “Dis ole hairy mouse knows der way to dat Abbey place, Cap'n, an' 'e sez dat stripe'ound an' de 'edgepig robbed 'is brekkist jus' afore dawn.”

The prisoner attempted to rise, but Vizka booted him flat again. “Wot's ya name, 'airy mouse?”

The watervole snapped abruptly, “I'm a vole!”

Vizka allowed him to stand upright. “Well, if'n ye wants ter stay alive, vole, ye'd best tell me where Redwall Abbey is.”

The captive indicated with a sullen nod. “Upriver to the ford, an' south down the road, as far as I know.”

Vizka tweaked his captive's snout until tears poured from the vole's eyes. “Yer a feisty ole crab, ain't ya? Well, let me tell ye, I'm der cap'n o' dis ship, so ye'd best show me some respeck, or yer'll be a dead 'airy mouse!”

Still tweaking his victim's snout, Vizka gave orders. “Weigh anchor an' get under way, we'll pole 'er upriver t'der ford. Dogleg, give dis 'un a paddle an' put 'im ta work. Fasten 'im on a lead, we don't want 'im slippin' away. Hah, we might need an 'airy mouse when we gits ter Redwall.”

 

By midnoon of that hot, summer day,
Bludgullet
had progressed well. The vole stared at the entrance hole to his dwelling as they sailed past it. He silently cursed the bad fortune which had thrown him into the paws of Vizka Longtooth and his Sea Raiders. His reverie did not last long, though. A sharp tug on the tethering rope tied around his neck dragged him back to reality. Bilger was shouting at him.

“Keep movin', get dat paddle a-pushin', move yer wobbly ole bottom or I'll move it for ya!”

The watervole spat on his blistered paws, glaring at his taskmaster, as he punted deep with the long paddle.

 

Soft evening shades were draping over the land as Orkwil and Gorath waded across the River Moss, where it forded the path. Orkwil pointed south. “If we push on, I reckon we might get to the Abbey sometime after supper.”

Gorath began plodding wearily down the path. “Do you think there'll be any supper left over?”

Orkwil matched his big friend's flagging pace. “There's always food to be had at Redwall, mate, anytime of the night or day, you'll see.”

It was fully dawn when the trio slowed their headlong dash through the woodlands. Luglug beckoned to a strata of sandstone ledges, dotted with bushes and shrubbery. He drew his rapier.

“That place looks like snake land t'me, go careful now. Serpents like these shaded places, with lots o' nooks an' crannies, an' ledges where they can sun themselves.”

Maudie whispered to Asio as they crept forward, “Looks jolly silent an' sinister t'me. I wouldn't be at all surprised if the neighbourhood was crawlin' with flippin' snakes, bet there're adders, too, wot!”

The owl scoffed. “Snakes are nowt but snakes, lass. Adders, subtractors, they're all a load o' sneaky worms t'me. Ah've never been fond o' the slippery things.”

Maudie froze, fixing her eye on a movement, about halfway up the ledges, by a slender rowan tree. “Luglug, I think I've found our snake. See it, up there, coiled around that rowan root. There's the babe, too!” They ducked behind an old spruce, peering out to get a better assessment of the situation.

Asio blinked. “How's the liddle tyke, my eyes ain't too good from this distance. Is the babby hurt, d'ye think?”

The shrew chieftain shaded his eyes, staring hard. “I think I saw him move. Aye, he moved again, see? So, baby Dupper ain't been bitten yet, or he'd be stiff as a board. That's an adder, though, I'm sure!”

Maudie kept her eyes on the ledge. “How d'you know, by the thing's markins?”

Log a Log Luglug wrinkled his snout. “Can't make out any markins, it's in the shade. I can smell it from here, though, that's an adder!”

The owl was skeptical of Luglug's judgement. “Nay, lad, all snakes smell the same, it could be a slow worm for all thou knows!”

However, Luglug was adamant. “That's an adder, I tell ye!”

Maudie treated them both to a severe wiggle of her ears. “Will you chaps stop squabblin' an' help me to figure out how we're goin' to rescue little wot'sisface. There's no way we can sneak up on that slimy rotter, he'd see us comin' from up there on the ledge. By the time we crossed the flat area and climbed those rocks, the blighter could've done away with the poor mite, an' scoffed him t'boot. So, let's stop bickerin' about snake smells, an' face up to the confounded problem!”

Luglug shook his head. “Pity we never brought a bow an' arrows along.”

Maudie stamped her footpaw, but quietly. “Really! I'm lookin' for solutions, sah, not wishful blinkin' thinkin'! Asio, any ideas rollin' about in that feathered bonce of yours, wot?”

The owl blinked his huge, yellow eyes. “Aye, lass, ah'll back off a touch, then fly up high in t'sky, then zoom in an' give yon worm ecky thump, just like ah would wi' a lizard!” Before Maudie or Luglug could protest, or agree, Asio shuffled rapidly backward and was lost to view.

The shrew chieftain blew a sigh of frustration. “It's no good talkin' to that stubborn ole fool. Come on, miz, we'll start advancin' careful like, so we can give him some help, if'n he does wot he's goin' t'do!”

Nipping quietly from tree to bush, the pair stole forward, with Maudie keeping an eye on the snake and its prey, as Luglug watched the sky for signs of the owl. They reached the base of the ledges. Maudie stared upward.

“This is goin' t'be the tricky part, old chap, wot. No sooner do we start scalin' these ledges than that villain will spot us, we'll stick out like toads on a thimble!”

Without warning, a tremendous din rang out from above: Asio's hooting and screeching, mingled with little Dupper's wails, and the vicious hissing of the snake.

Maudie began bounding up the ledges. “Come on, mate, Asio's arrived. Blood'n'vinegar! Eulaliaaaa!”

The sandstone was weathered, soft and rounded, with no real pawholds, but Maudie and Luglug scrabbled up it as if their lives depended on it. They arrived on the scene in the midst of the hubbub. The owl was gripping the reptile's body in his talons as they attacked one another, beak for fang, in a furor of coils and feathers. The shrewbabe was howling lustily, trying to crawl away from the conflict.

Maudie leapt in. Snatching the infant up, she hurried him out of harm's way. Luglug circled the fight with his rapier at the ready, trying to get a good thrust at the snake. It came a moment later, when the snake lunged, openmouthed, for a strike at Asio. The shrew chieftain thrust the blade right down its throat, dodging to one side as its tail thrashed furiously. The owl held it tight in his talons until he was sure the snake was dead. Luglug retrieved his blade from the reptile's mouth, saluting the owl with it.

“Got the brute, just as it was goin' to strike ye!”

Asio flung the snake's limp carcass over the ledge with a scornful flick of his hooked beak. “Goin' to strike me? Thou must be jestin', lad, yon great string o' scales must've bitten me about four times in all. Aye, he put up a gradely scrap, though, ah'll say that for 'im!”

Maudie was wrapping the shrewbabe back in his little shawl. Concern registered in her eyes as she stared at Asio. “Are you quite sure, old lad, that filthy rotter got his fangs into you four blinkin' times, wot?”

The owl blinked. “It were either four or five times, ah weren't countin'. Still, yon worm's slain now, an' the babbie's safe. That's all wot counts, lass!” Asio's legs seemed to buckle, he wobbled a pace or two, then squatted down, his head nodding forward as he watched Luglug cleaning off his blade. “Whoo, ah feel right tired out, 'appen ah'll need a liddle nap afore we carry on back 'ome.” He winked lazily at Luglug, then chuckled. “Yeh great pudden'ead, yon worm weren't no adder, it were nowt but a grass snake. Ah were right, weren't ah?”

Putting his rapier aside, the shrew knelt alongside Asio, patting his wing gently. “Aye, mate, you were right, no doubt about it.”

The owl's eyes were blinking rapidly as he turned to Maudie. “Ah may forget one or two things, but when ah recall 'em ah'm always right, eh, lass?”

Still holding the shrewbabe, Maudie hurried to Asio's side. However, the great yellow eyes had fallen shut, for the last time. The haremaid knelt, pressing her face against his downy cheek feathers. “My poor, old, brave, muddleheaded friend, you've earned a perilous warrior's rest. Sleep well, Asio Bardwing!”

Maudie and Luglug laid him where he had fallen, they built a neat cairn of sandstone slabs over Asio. It was midmorning before the task was finished. The shrewbabe was hungry, he began whimpering for his breakfast. Maudie rocked him soothingly, as Luglug recited a few lines over the owl's resting place.

Maudie passed the little one to the shrew chieftain. Taking Luglug's rapier, she saluted her fallen comrade, yelling aloud the Salamandastron war cry, in tribute to him. “Eulaliiiiiiaaaaaa!”

 

They returned to Bulrush Bower in time for lunch. Little Dupper's mother was overjoyed to get her baby back unharmed. Luglug and Maudie told her of the owl's heroic sacrifice, how Asio had saved Dupper by doing battle with the adder. The shrewmum was greatly moved, she proclaimed from that day forth, her little one's name would be changed, from Dupper to Asio. Both Maudie and the Guosim tribe were in complete agreement with the decision. They ate a simple lunch, shrewbread, apples and some cheese. When all their baggage was packed, Luglug gave orders.

Shrews are notoriously noisy, they gossip and shout constantly. To gain silence Luglug had to shout out his official title, Log a Log, in an ululating call. Maudie was startled; for such a small creature, he had a resounding voice.

“Logalogalogalooooog!”

The Guosim ceased jabbering and listened to their chief. Luglug was very brief with his announcement. “Get the liddle 'uns on their lines'n'harnesses! Rigril an' Teagle, yore in the scoutin' coracle! Porters an' portagers, move out! We're bound for the Abbey o' Redwall, by the crookstream an' ripples!”

The Guosim cheered this news to the echo, Redwall was a great place to visit. Everybeast bustled to their chores. Maudie watched the process, sorting out in her mind what it all meant. She saw parents fastening small woven harnesses around the waists of their infants, and others packing equipment upon their backs. Rigril and Teagle had raced off, as soon as Luglug told them they would be in the scouting coracle. The rest, who were mainly sturdy looking males, followed the two scouts. Luglug explained what was happening.

“That gang who've gone ahead are the portagers, miz. Guosim goes everywhere by logboats, rivers'n'streams, that's the way we travels. Ye see yon fir grove, we've stowed our logboats there. They've got t'be carried, portaged y'see, across t'the crookstream. A shrew needs strong paws an' a broad back to be a portager!”

Maudie saw Guosim, or at least the bottom halves of them, emerging from the grove. The shrews were carrying six fine, long logboats. She chuckled at the sight. It looked like upside down vessels, each with many pairs of legs, tramping away into the woodlands. Luglug did not appear amused.

“There's nought funny about portagin', missy, 'tis a fair ole trek afore we reaches the crookstream an' ripples. We'd best take the lead, c'mon.”

Maudie hurried to catch up with the bristly little Log a Log. “I know there's nothin' funny about havin' to carry the jolly old boats, wot. But it looks rather comical, don't it? I say, those portagin' chaps mustn't be able t'see a bally thing, how do they know which way to go, wot?”

The Guosim chieftain explained. “That's why we'll be walkin' in front o' the first logboat. The front shrew will follow our footpaws. The next beast follows his, an' so on. When yore portagin' all ye can see is the ground 'neath yoreself, an' the footpaws o' the one in front of ye.”

Having reached the lead position with Luglug, the haremaid looked back. Behind her was a well-ordered procession, the line of logboats, followed by Guosim porters, carrying bundles of camping equipment. To the rear of the porters came the little ones. Each was tethered to their family members by a harness and a lead rope. Bringing up the tail end of the column came a score of young warriors, each with drawn rapier, eager and willing to prove themselves in the event of an attack. Maudie concluded that though Guosim shrews were noisy and argumentative, they could be very well ordered, when each had a specific task to perform. The logboat carriers struck up a sort of marching shanty, to keep their footpaws in time with each other.

Twilight was already covering the woodlands when they reached their destination. The place Guosim called the crookstream and ripples looked peaceful enough to Maudie. She organised supper as the shrews tethered their logboats to the bank, loading them, so they would be ready to move on the morrow. A foraging party brought in some button mushrooms, scallions and early acorns, which Maudie used as a filling for the pasties she was making.

Luglug commented as they sat beneath the bankside willows, “I tell ye, Miss Maudie, I ain't never tasted pasties as nice as these in all me seasons. Er, how would ye like to become a Guosim cook? The job's yores if'n ye want it. In fact, I'll make ye Grand Guosim Chef, an' give ye a staff of helpers. Wot d'ye say?”

The haremaid shook her head. “Sorry, 'fraid not, sah, I'm a Salamandastron hare of the Long Patrol. Couldn't imagine m'self balancin' a whoppin' great logboat between my ears, an' singin' portagin' songs. Besides, I've got a jolly old mission to complete. Couldn't very well do that an' toddle off t'be a blinkin' Guosim chef to boot, wot!”

Luglug looked crestfallen, but he made no further mention of the subject.

 

Maudie was wakened at the crack of dawn next morning. Still yawning, she was thrust into the prow end of the lead logboat, alongside a young shrew named Osbil. The vessel lurched off from the bank, powered by fourteen Guosim, all paddling energetically. The haremaid nodded to her companion. “G'morning, I say, aren't we supposed t'be paddlin', or something like that, wot?”