Eulalia! (21 page)

Maudie kept a straight face, commenting, “Dreadfully sad tale, wot? So that's why you had to give up fightin'. Hmmmm. Er, I say, chaps, before we drop off to sleep, what's the jolly old plan for tomorrow? Always supposin' we have a plan, wot!”

Barbowla levered himself up on his rudder. “Well o' course we have, beauty, the plan's to get to Redwall, safe'n'sound in one piece. Right, Lug?”

The Guosim Log a Log was already half-asleep, he muttered drowsily, “Sleep first, plan tommorer!”

Everybeast was in agreement, except Rangval the Rogue. He was up on his paws, pacing and gesticulating. “Shure, an' is it a plan yore after? Faith, me lucky bhoyos, look no further than meself, aren't I the grandest ould planner ye ever fell over on a day's march!”

Maudie stifled a yawn politely. “Carry on, old thing, the cave floor is yours, what super wheeze have you come up with, wot?”

Rangval gave up pacing, he sat down sulkily. “Ah, ye can go an' boil yore dozy tails for all I care. Saved ye from Kurdly an' his army, didn't I, brought yez all here unscathed. Hah, an' that's all the thanks I gets for me efforts. Here I am, tryin' to help ye, an' yore all yawnin', snorin' an' layin' round like a pile o' fractured frogs. Well, I'll keep meself to meself, thank ye kindly, an' you can all go an' pickle yore ears an' boil yore bums, so there. From now on me lips are sealed!”

Maudie was immediately sorry about their treatment of Rangval. Shaking Luglug and Barbowla into wakefulness, she tried to remedy the situation. “Good grief, sah, please accept our profuse apologies. Confound us for our atrocious bad manners, we never intended hurtin' your feelings. Moreover we are very grateful for what you've done so blinkin' far. In fact, we're all bloomin' ears, please carry on with your excellent scheme, ain't that right, chaps?”

Luglug and Barbowla agreed hastily.

“Right, matey, go on, I'm dyin' to 'ear yore plan!”

“Aye, it'll prob'ly be better'n anythin' we'd think up!”

The change in Rangval was like the sun coming from behind a cloud, he beamed cheerfully at them. “Haharr, wait'll ye hear this, me fine, furry friends. Now, wot ye don't know is that we're only a good day's march from the Abbey, by a secret path known only to meself. But first we'll have t'get rid o' those ould boats, huh, can't be carryin' them along with us.”

“Whaaaaat? Get rid of my logboats? Never!”

Rangval held up his paws, chuckling at Luglug's reaction. “Ah, shure I don't mean get rid of 'em altogether, ye'll get 'em back easy enough when the time comes. But we've got to travel light. By the mornin' Gruntan Kurdly'll have scouts out all o'er the neighbourhood, searchin' for us an' the boats. He'll be lookin' to the streams an' waterways, but we'll be nowhere near 'em.”

The shrew chieftain's face was the picture of misery. “But where'll my six logboats be?”

Rangval patted the Guosim shrew's back. “Not t'worry, me ould tater, they'll be no more'n a paddle's length from where ye now stand. See this.” The squirrel went to the cave's north wall, suddenly shouting, “Now close yore eyes tight, go on, close 'em!” They did as he ordered, there was a minute scraping sound, then Rangval called out, “Ye can open 'em now!”

Rangval was gone, vanished into thin air.

Maudie rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “Great seasons, where's the blighter got to, wot?”

Rangval's echoing laugh boomed around the cavern. “Ah shure, I'm right here, me darlin'!” He reappeared, seeming to walk straight out of the wall. They hurried to his side as he revealed all. “It's another small cave behind this 'un, see this crack in the rock? Well, ye just pull on it, like so.” The whole rock seemed to move slightly, leaving enough room for Rangval to use as a doorway. “An' that, me ould Luglug, is where we'll hide yore boats. Aye, an' all the other tackle, too, cookin' pots, an' the like. We need t'cover a lot o' ground fast in the mornin', so we'll be travellin' light.”

Maudie nodded. “I see, an' I take it you'll be comin' to Redwall with us?”

The roguish squirrel raised his eyebrows. “I take it ye've never tasted Redwall vittles, or you wouldn't be askin' such a foolish ould question. I'm with ye every step o' the way, me beauty, I wouldn't miss the chance of nourishin' me fine body with the good Redwall Abbey cookin'. Right, let's get everythin' stowed into the small cave, ready for an early start when day breaks.”

Out in the woodlands, smoke billowed into the night, heavy smoke, thick and greasy. It came from wet, rotten vegetation, which had been piled onto a big fire. Hornets and wasps would not venture into the befugged area. Coughing, spitting, sneezing and constantly mopping at their eyes, Gruntan Kurdly and his Brownrats crouched around ten of these fires. None of them even resembled Brownrats. Everybeast who had lived through the stinging attack was heavily coated in greeny-black marsh mud.

Laggle, the old female healer, staggered about, dispensing advice. “Smear it on, thick as ye can, then leave it. No matter 'ow much it itches or stings, leave it. Tomorrer, when that scum an' ooze hardens up wid the sunlight, it'll peel off, an' bring all the stings out along with it.”

Gruntan had missed most of the body stings by staying submerged in the stream, though his head was swollen and lumpy, where the wasps and hornets had attacked it. Stringle looked for all the world like a rat sculpture in mud, with holes for his eyes, nostrils and mouth.

Gruntan moved his head in Stringle's direction, slowly and painfully, he winced as he spoke. “Mim a thormem joo bikkupa pakth.”

Stringle scraped some mud from his ears. “Wot was that, Boss?”

Gruntan huffed irately. “A thed, joo bikkup pakth mim a thormem, thoon adda blite!”

Not wanting to anger his boss further, Stringle whispered to old Laggle the healer, “Do ye think the wasps got down his ears an' stung 'im in the brains? 'E ain't makin' sense!”

Laggle waddled over to Gruntan, she tapped his chin. “Open yer mouth…wide.”

Gruntan narrowed his already swollen eyes. “Moperamouff, fworra doodad form?”

The old healer was a no-nonsense type, she began prising his mouth open. “I said open yore mouth, Kurdly, yore talkin' rubbish, an' I want t'see why.” Laggle took a swift peek inside his mouth, blanched at the odour of his breath, then gave her diagnosis. “Hah, no wonder ye can't talk proper, yore tongue's been stung, about nine or ten times I'd say, by the blisters on it!”

Gruntan touched a paw to his tongue, and winced again. “Me thongueth beed thtunged by d'wopth!”

Laggle shook her head resignedly. “That's wot I just said! Now, wot did ye want t'say to Stringle?”

Gruntan made an effort to speak clearly; it failed. “A thode hib doo bikkupa shooth pakth imma thormem!”

Fortunately, Laggle understood, she translated to Stringle. “He sez 'e told you to pick up the sh'ews tracks, in the mornin'.”

The mud statue that was Stringle nodded forlornly. “Unnerstood, Boss!” He murmured miserably to Laggle, “Huh, that's if'n I'm still alive at dawn!”

Gruntan stirred the fire with a spear, causing fresh billows of stinking smoke to set everybeast hacking and coughing painfully. He crouched low, rubbing both eyes, and muttering darkly. “Wheb I gedd dode lobgoats I'll bake dode shooth thcreeb f'berthy, ho yeth, h'I bakem thnoddy!”

Noggo nudged his scout companion, Biklo. “Wot did the boss say just then?”

Biklo shrugged. “I dunno, but he'll bring bad luck on us all, usin' language like that, mate!”

Noggo licked mud from his muzzle tip, and spat distastefully. “Bring bad luck, does that mean we've been havin' good luck so far?”

 

The peace and comfort of the hill cavern was broken by Rangval the Rogue. Dawn had just broken when he marched in briskly. “Top o' the mornin' to ye all, the sun's puttin' on a grand show out there. 'Tis too fine a day t'be snorin' an snoozin', right, Maudie, me darlin'?”

Maudie, who had risen early with the squirrel, strode in, towelling her face dry of streamwater. “Right indeed, old lad! Come on, chaps, up on y'paws. Quick's the word an' sharp's the action, wot! Now, we've got some jolly hard paw-sloggin' today, everybeast will be followin' friend Rangval, who knows the secret route to Redwall. So, with the permission of our Log a Log, an' Barbowla, I'll organise the march, wot?”

Some of the Guosim looked as though they were about to dispute the haremaid's role (as was customary with shrews) when Luglug rebuked them sternly.

“The maid's got my say-so, anybeast wants to argue about the crackin' o' hazelnuts, can do so wid me afore we goes further!” The Guosim chieftain allowed one paw to slide down to his rapier hilt. It was sufficient, no shrew wanted to tangle with Luglug. He nodded. “Carry on with yore orders, miz.”

There was no mistaking the haremaid's air of command, Major Mullein would have been proud of her. “Pay attention at the back there. We'll be travellin' light an' quiet, fast an' silent as the bloomin' breeze, wot! Files o' four'd be best, don't get strung out or trailed to one side, keep t'gether, that's the ticket. Rangval will take the lead, I'll bring up the rear, Luglug an' Barbowla to the midflanks, left'n'right. I want everybeast who's strong an' able enough to pack a babe on their backs. Sorry about brekkers, Osbil an' Belford will provide ye with vittles, to munch on the march. All clear, any questions?”

Kachooch held up her rudder. “Ain't we allowed to sing as we go? I likes marchin' songs, Miz Maudie.”

The haremaid shook her head. “Apologies, marm, I like a jolly good marchin' song, too, afraid we'll have to do without 'em. Safety in silence y'know. No more questions? Lead off, Rangval!”

They left the cavern, emerging into the calm summer morn. Maudie listened to the distant trill of birds, the murmur of the nearby stream, and the swish of dew-laden grass underpaw. She kept her wits about her, and her eyes focused into the surrounding woodland. This was not at all an easy task, as she was trying to eat breakfast, a fine yellow pear, some shrewbread and a small amount of hard cheese.

Adding to her difficulties was the shrewbabe, a tiny pestilence named Yik. He had elected to ride on Maudie's shoulders, simply by climbing up there and refusing to come down. The haremaid could not really protest, as it was she who had initiated the idea, so she bore her burden stoically. For awhile, at least, until Yik started to make his presence felt. “Yowch, I say, old lad, don't pull my flippin' ears!”

“I norra hole'ad, jus' makin' ya go fasterer.”

“Well, I don't wish to go fasterer, er, faster, so stop tuggin' on my ears, and don't keep kicking me with your confounded footpaws!”

“No kickin' ya, me paws gettin' itchy, I h'only scratchin' 'em on ya.”

“Well, kindly chuck it, or go an' scratch y'paws someplace else. Whoops! What are you up to now, pestilential little bounder?”

“I savin' some breffkist for laterer!”

“Not down the back of my blinkin' tunic you're not. Eat it up now, or I'll tell 'em not to jolly well serve you any lunch!”

Osbil dropped back to walk alongside Maudie. “Well, miss, are ye enjoyin' yoreself?”

Maudie treated the young shrew to an icy glance. “Are you blinkin' well jokin', enjoyin' myself, with this bloomin' miniature cad torturing me! Who does he belong to, where's his ma an' pa?”

Osbil took a closer glance at the shrewbabe. “That 'un's little Yik, he don't belong to anybeast in particular, miz, he just turned up one day, didn't ye, mate?”

Yik bounced up and down on Maudie's shoulders, gripping her ears for balance as he squeaked aloud. “Blinkin' flippin' jollywell bloomin'!”

Osbil tried to hide a smile. “That's very nice language to be teachin' a babe!”

This seemed to encourage Yik, who redoubled his efforts. “Blinkblink flipflip jolly jolly bloomers. Heeheehee!”

A low, cautionary whistle came from the flank Barbowla was patrolling. Everybeast halted, Maudie reached up and clamped a paw across Yik's mouth. The travellers stood stock-still, not daring to move. The big otter signalled twice with both paws, pointing off to the left. Barbowla balanced a short otter javelin, watching the four Brownrats, who were barely visible twixt the shafts of light and shade cast by the trees. The vermin moved slowly away, stooping with the mud and marsh ooze plastered thickly on their bodies.

Luglug came from the other side of the marchers. Both he and Barbowla, with weapons at the ready, stole noiselessly through the tree cover toward the Brownrats. They were gone a short time, whilst everybeast kept total silence, not moving a single muscle.

After awhile, the otter and the shrew chieftain returned. Luglug kept his voice low. “Relax, mates, they've gone, the opposite way to where we're goin', thank the seasons. Are you alright, Miz?”

As soon as Maudie had clamped her paw over Yik's mouth, the indignant babe had bitten into it. She could not shout out, or wriggle to free herself, but was forced to stand there, transfixed by the tiny, sharp teeth.

Luglug assessed the situation at a glance. “Pass the liddle scamp down 'ere t'me, Miz Maudie.”

Still attached to the shrewbabe, the haremaid allowed Luglug to hold Yik. Pinching the babe's nostrils firmly, Luglug cut off his air supply, forcing him to open his mouth to breathe. Maudie withdrew her paw smartly.

Kachooch gathered a few dock leaves. “Put these on it, miz, 'twill stop the bleedin'. I'll fix ye up with a proper dressin' when we stops for a rest.”

Barbowla interrupted, “I say we stops now, 'tis not far off'n noon. Once we're rested we'll carry straight on for the Abbey, widout any more halts.”

They sat to rest in the covering shade of an ash grove. Kahooch put some salve on Maudie's paw, whilst Yik looked on with great interest. “I bited you 'cos you nearly chokered me, I cuddent breeve.”

Luglug flicked the used dock leaves at him. “Be off, ye naughty liddle savage, shame on ye!”

The shrewbabe went off pouting. “I norra naughty samwich, h'I'm a Yik, h'an I not like youse anymore!”

Maudie could not help smiling at the aggrieved shrewbabe. “Ain't exactly the type to mince his words, wot!”

Rangval took stock of their surroundings. “By rights we should've pressed on further afore we stopped t'rest. Shure, we'll have t'step up the pace a bit, if'n we want to reach the Abbey tonight.”

Luglug stood upright, signalling to the Guosim. “We're ready if'n everybeast else is, how's the paw now, Miz Maud?”

The haremaid went into a fighting stance, shooting off several jabs within a hairsbreadth of the shrew's chin. “Right as rain, old lad, shall we get goin', then? Form up again, chaps, an' let's see you march off smartly. Yik, c'mon, up on me shoulders an' see if you can jolly well behave y'self this time. Yik, where's that little terror got to?”

Osbil and Kahooch searched among the Guosim, the otters checked their own babes, to see if Yik was hiding among them. Luglug scratched his head. “That rascal's gone off somewheres, prob'ly found a spot to hide an' sulk, 'cos I spoke sharp to 'im. You lot best carry on t'Redwall, I'll catch up with ye after I've tracked Yik down.”

Maudie nodded to Rangval and Barbowla. “You're in charge now, get goin'. I'll stop back an' help Luglug find the little rascal.”

Rangval did not bother arguing. “Ah, yore right there, me darlin' commander, we can't hang about all day lookin' for the small villain. Just follow our trail once ye've caught Yik. Should ye get lost, then keep yore eyes peeled fer the two-topped oak, it was riven by lightnin', ye'll recognise it on sight. Right after the oak ye'll come out of the woodlands, Redwall's straight in front of ye then, across a patch of open land. Head for the liddle south wallgate, we'll be waitin' there for ye. Good luck now, an' give that fiend's tail a skelp for me when ye find him!” The main party moved swiftly off, leaving Maudie and Luglug to find the shrewbabe.

The haremaid's first move was to comb the area where they had rested. “He can't have got too far, a tiny babe like him will prob'ly be lurking under some shrubbery.”

The Guosim chieftain was not of the same opinion. “Ye'd be surprised just how far some o' these little 'uns can go when they've a mind to, miss. Look 'ere.” Away from the tracks where the main party had entered and departed the ash grove, Luglug pointed out some hard cheese crumbs. Maudie inspected them.

“That'll be Yik, he hadn't finished his mornin' meal. Aye, he's headed off this way, see the tiny pawprints.” The babe's pawmarks stood out clear on a patch of damp soil. They came across yet more evidence, some blades of grass that Yik had knocked awry. Maudie surmised, “Prob'ly swipin' at things, with a twig he's found.”

Luglug stepped up the pace. “'Tis a pretty straight path he's on, let's run 'im down!”

No sooner had they started to run than a bellow of pain rent the air, from somewhere up ahead. “Yaaargh! Gimme that stick, ye liddle murderer!”

Other voices chimed in.

“It's a sh'ew, grab 'im, mates!”

“Cummere, ye likkle maggot…. Yowch, me eye!”

Luglug and Maudie burst through the bushes onto a streambank, straight into trouble.

Yik had come across a half dozen of Gruntan Kurdly's Brownrats. They had been searching for shrews and logboats along the bankside. Tiring of their task, the vermin lay down in the warm sun, letting it bake their thick mud poultices hard, and catching a much-needed nap. Yik had stumbled upon them, and decided to attack the foebeasts with his stick. The shrewbabe had struck several times, before the vermin were goaded into action. To the bold Yik it was all some kind of a game, he scuttled around the big Brownrats, jabbing and thrusting with his stick, as though it was a Guosim rapier. The rat who had been stuck in the eye by the stick kicked out at his tiny tormentor. He sent Yik headlong into the stream. One of his comrades waded in. Grabbing Yik, he shook him like a rag doll. “Shall we give 'im ter Kurdly, or eat 'im ourselves?” Then Maudie and Luglug arrived on the scene.