Janglur was not convinced. "But wot if they ain't?"

The door behind them began creaking slowly shut before a slight draft. Skipper pointed to it. "There's some markin's scratched on that door!"

Janglur inspected it closely, telling Cregga what he could see. "Fairly fresh scratches, marm, done quick like with a sharp point. 'Tis only four letters. G an' T an' G an' T."

Skipper opened the door. "I'll go down an' see if they're at lunch, or they might be in the orchard. You two try an' figger those letters out."

Cregga rose from her armchair. "Wait!" Crossing to the door, she pressed her muzzle gently against the scratches, sniffing as she moved over the markings. "G . . . T . . . G ... T! I've a feeling those marks were made hastily by the last one to leave this room, carrying Martin's sword. He or she scratched them. G . . . T .. . G . . . T!"

Janglur nodded as the solution dawned on him. "Aye, that'd be young Dann, tryin' to prove hisself after Rusvul shouted at 'im last night, and the other two've gone with 'im. We'd better get searchers out, Skip, find 'em an' get 'em back inside this Abbey before anythin' bad 'appens to Song an' her pals. I just figgered it out. Those four letters mean Gone To Get Tapestry!"

Skipper stared at the letters. "Of course, that's wot they've done, taken Martin the Warrior's sword an' gone to get our tapestry back. Only beasts with not many seasons under their belts would try a thing like that. Young, brave'n'fool'ardy. Wish my otters was 'ere, we'd get 'em back afore y'could blink. Trouble is that I think my tribe's left the falls an' gone north on the stream down to the seaside. Lots o' good vittles there durin' summer."

Janglur untied the sling from his waist. "Can't stand 'ere jawin' all day. They might be in danger. Come on!"

Bong! Boom! Bong! Boom! Bong!

Skipper dashed past Janglur down the stairs.

"Foebeasts at the gate!"

Chapter 15.

By mid-noon Mokkan seemed well on the road to recovery. He had sat up after a long nap and eaten food. The water rats did not stray far from the camp, but sat awaiting his orders. Mokkan made a great pretense of trying to stand, but sank back down again grimacing. He beckoned to the rat Beelu. "You're a good strong beast. Help me up and walk along the streambank with me while I get these paws working properly again."

Beelu helped the Marlfox to stand upright, and Mokkan leaned heavily on him, smiling his satisfaction. "Ah, that's better. Let's try a short stroll downstream, shall we?"

Silently the water rat obeyed, trying hard not to stumble as he guided his charge along the bank, close to the water. It was not long before they were out of sight of the others.

From behind the trunk of a crack willow, Fenno the shrew watched them. Weary, hungry and red-eyed from lack of sleep, he had blundered round Mossflower until he was hopelessly lost. The shrew groveled down in the earth at the base of the willow and tried to meld himself with the tree, not knowing what to make of the incident that followed. He saw the paw that Mokkan had about Beelu suddenly lock around the rat's neck and tighten. Mokkan spoke gently, soothingly, as he slowly throttled the life from his victim. "What'll you tell my sister Vannan now, rat? This is the last lesson you'll ever learn, never try to outsmart a Marlfox!"

Beelu's paws kicked wildly, then his struggles lessened until he finally went limp. Mokkan hurled him into the stream and stood watching the rat's carcass being swept away. He chuckled. "Never learned how to swim, eh? Typical water rat, they're not much use at learning anything!"

Fenno drew in his breath sharply with fear. The Marlfox melted back into the trees and was gone. The shrew scrambled out of his hiding place and threw himself flat on the bank. Thrusting his head into the stream, he drank, sucking in water greedily. Then, to his horror, a strong paw pressed itself down hard on the back of his neck. Fenno tried to lift his head clear of the water, but he could not. His limbs thrashed about helplessly as water rushed into his ears and eyes and up his nostrils. Just before he blacked out he was dragged clear of the stream and smashed up against the trunk of the willow. Fenno found himself staring into the pale, ruthless eyes of Mokkan.

"Where are the rest of your tribe?"

Fenno shook his head as he coughed up water and streambed sand. "Gaaargh! I dunno. Kwaargh! B'lieve me, I dunno!"

Mokkan's double-bladed ax pressed none too lightly between the gagging shrew's eyes. "Oh, I believe you, only a complete fool would dare lie to Mokkan. Now listen carefully to my next question, your life depends on the answer. Are you good at steering and guiding a logboat?"

Not daring to nod with the ax so close, Fenno managed to gasp out, "Aye, Chief, I'm good at it!"

Mokkan's paw was like a clawed vise. It dug savagely into the back of Fenno's neck as he was propelled forward. "Good! I have work for you!"

The twelve remaining water rats rose to attention as Mokkan strode into camp, apparently fully recovered and thrusting a terrified shrew before him. He nodded to a rat. "Keep your spear on this shrew; if he moves gut him! The rest of you, take your weapons to those logboats, but save the stoutest one. Here, shrew, which is the best of these craft?"

Fenno scrabbled across and laid his paw on a boat without hesitation. "This'n, Chief. 'Twas Log a Log's boatbelonged to a Guosim leader."

The Marlfox inspected the fine craft, nodding his approval. "I'll keep this one. You rats, chop the rest to splinters!"

Swords, spears and daggers hacked and slashed at the other five vessels. Mokkan took a braided thong and noosed it about the neck of Fenno, locking off the knot so it could not be removed quickly. He dragged the bewildered and trembling shrew down to the boat he had chosen, bidding him sit in the stern. The Marlfox prized a towing staple from one of the wrecked logboats, knotted the thong end to the staple and drove it into the thick beechwood stern until the curve was embedded level with the wood. Fenno sat with his neck pulled to one side by the short thong. Mokkan smiled.

"If the boat sinks, then so do you. Right, rats, gather up all the supplies and stow that tapestry carefully amidships. High Queen Silth will be happy to see us when we bring Redwall's treasure to her."

Dann went first along the trail, leading his friends in the direction of the noise.

"Sounds like an army of woodpeckers havin' a mid-season feast!" Dippler panted as he ran.

Song wielded her greenstone-tipped stick. "Hardly likely, Dipp. Slow down, Dann, we don't want to rush into the middle of something we can't back out of!"

Dann slowed until they were traveling abreast. "It's stopped! Listen, is that a stream I can hear?"

They skirted the wide pool formed by the end of the inlet. Stooping low and taking advantage of the bush cover, the three friends pressed forward along the deserted streambank. Dippler saw the wreckage of his tribe's logboats first. With a sob of dismay he threw himself down by the shattered prow of the first one.

"Waterfly! 'Tis me ole boat. I paddled that'n many a long day. Wot filthy villain'd wreck a good craft like 'er?"

Song had run ahead to where the main broadstream flowed. She called back to Dippler and Dann. "Hurry, come and see this!" They both dashed up in time to see the surviving logboat speeding out of sight around a distant bend on the fast-flowing current. "A Marlfox and some other beasts, with one bent over in the stern. I'll wager the tapestry's aboard that boat!"

Dippler scrambled up a pine tree as far as he could climb. Clinging on with one paw, shading his eyes with the other, he watched until the vessel was lost to sight. Climbing back down, the Guosim shrew stamped his paws angrily. "We jus' missed the scum. Guess who the otherbeast was? I'd know that stinkin' bully anywhere. It was Fenno!"

"The one that murdered Log a Log?"

Dippler slashed the air with his rapier. "Aye, the very one!"

Dann undid his sword and pack and flung them down moodily. "Not much we can do about it now, mates. They've wrecked the other boats an' left us stranded 'ere. Besides, who knows where they're bound? They could be sailin' anywhere."

Song drew Friar Butty's parchment from her tunic. "That's where you're wrong, Dann. I'll wager an acorn to an oak they're away to the island in the lost lake. We can too. I've got the route right here, listen.

"At the rear of redstone wall, Find me o'er where breaks the day, You cannot, shall not walk at all, Just follow as I run away."

Dippler shrugged and sat beside Dann on the bank. "You've lost me again, Song. You'll 'ave to explain."

Song translated the lines she had read. "The rear of the redstone wall is the back of the Abbey, where we left from. Now, we traveled east, through Mossflower, and day breaks in the east, so we've found it, the river. Obviously we cannot walk on water and the last line tells us to follow whichever way the water runs. That's the way Fenno and the Marlfox have gone, don't you see?"

Dann jabbed his swordpoint into the shallows. "Of course I see, but how d'we do that, Song, eh? The Marlfox wasn't stupid, he smashed the other boats to pieces so nobeast could follow him. 'Tis like I said, we're stranded!"

Song glanced hopefully at Dippler. "No way we could knock up a boat from the bits of broken ones, Dipp? You know about boat-building."

The young shrew shook his head mournfully. "All you could make o' that lot now is a good fire. It'd take me days an' days to make the roughest ole boat, an' that's always providin' we could find the right log an' drag it down t'the waterside 'ere. No, we're stranded, matey."

Song looked amazed at her disheartened friends. "Hah, so you give it all up, just like that? Well, not me, I can follow a riverbank whichever way it flows." She dashed off down the water's edge, shouting, "I'm not letting them get away from me. Oh no!"

After a moment the young squirrelmaid chanced a backward glance. There were Dann and Dippler, running after her.

"Wait for us, mate, wait for us!"

Gelltor stood on the flatlands outside Redwall Abbey, out of range of arrows or missiles. Skipper jumped up onto the battlemented threshold top above the gatehouse and called out to the figure on the sun-shimmered plain. "Well, wot is it today, snipenose? What're you after?"

Gelltor had to cup both paws around his mouth to be heard. "Blood for blood. The one you call Janglur killed a Marlfox. Give him to us, and after that we'll talk."

Skipper scratched his tail in amazement, and winked at Janglur. "Hoho! 'Ear that, matey? They want yer!"

The warrior squirrel's heavily lidded eyes flickered but once. Grabbing the otter's javelin, Janglur leapt on the battlement top above Skipper and threw out a challenge to the Marlfox. "Are you the beast who wants t'meet me? Stay right there, patchbottom, I'll come down an' sort it out with yer, jus' me'n'you!"

Jumping from the wall he made for the wallstairs, only to be stopped by Brother Melilot. "I know 'tis hard for a warrior to resist a challenge, Janglur, but only a fool rushes into an ambush. You'd be slain as soon as you stepped outside our gates. Let Skipper do the talking."

Rusvul Reguba patted Janglur's back. "He's right, mate."

Skipper called out to Gelltor, "Sorry, mate, you can't 'ave ole Janglur. We need 'im at Redwall, to slay any more Marlfoxes who come callin'. So wot now?"

Gelltor pointed dramatically, letting his paw sweep the walls. "So now you must all die as a penalty for the death of a Marlfox!"

As Gelltor let his paw fall there was a brief pause, followed by a loud whirring noise. Skipper flung himself down onto the parapet. "Lay low, 'tis archers!"

A flight of arrows, like angry wasps, buzzed viciously over from all points, most of their shafts thudding into the lawn inside the Abbey walls. Gelltor waved his ax aloft. "Now 'tis war. Your Abbey is surrounded, and we will stay here for as long as it takes to slay you all or make you surrender!"

Skipper reappeared on the wall, holding an arrow. The otter Chieftain's face was a fearsome sight to see. He snapped the arrow contemptuously, tossing the pieces down onto the path. "Hearken, fox, you want war? Then by the thunder you'll get it! Redwallers are peace-lovin' creatures, until they're attacked. Start diggin' yore graves now, 'cos we ain't goin' t'dig 'em for ye!"

Bargle detailed his Guosim back to their wallguard, then followed Skipper and the others down to the gatehouse. Rimrose and Ellayo were waiting for them.

"Did they mention our daughter or her friends?" Song's mother inquired anxiously.

The lazy-lidded eyes smiled comfortingly at her. "No, me pretty one, course they didn't. They don't even know Song an' 'er pals are away from the Abbey, or they would've used 'em to try an' draw us out, ain't that right, Skip?"

"Correct, mate. Those young 'uns 'ave got the sense not to get theirselves captured. They know wot they're doin'."

Rusvul went out. Sitting on the wallsteps, he buried his head into his paws. Ellayo came and sat by him. "No good frettin', Rusvul Reguba, you can't do nothin' about yore son now. We're stuck in 'ere for better or worse, surrounded."

The squirrel warrior wiped a paw across his eyes. "'Twas me drove Dann to it. D'you think he'll ever forgive me for the things I said to 'im?"

Ellayo took Rusvul's paw and squeezed it. "Course he will. Dann's a good young creature, like our Song, he ain't stubborn an' unmovin' like his father. But it takes all kinds, friend, and wot we're goin' to need in the days that lie ahead are warriors, stubborn unmovin' warriors, like yoreself!"

For the first time since the battle at the southwest corner, Rusvul smiled. He stood up and bowed courteously to the old squirrel. "I thank ye for those kind words, marm. When there's fightin' to be done an' warriors need to stand firm, you'll find me the most stubborn an' unmovin' of all. 'Tis just the way I am."

Because of the danger from further volleys of arrows, Skipper requested that anybeast not on wallguard stay inside the Abbey. Florian decided that the time need not be wasted. If the Red wallers were to defend themselves from outside attack they needed drill and weapon training. Knowing nothing whatsoever about either matter, the hare made it all up as he went along. Armed with a motley selection of ladles, window poles, brooms and any domestic item that came to paw, elders and Dibbuns were lined up in Great Hall, together with the Noonvale troupe, and Florian swaggered about in what he imagined was true parade-ground manner.

"Right ho, troops, let's see if we can't knock you into shape, wot! Form y'selves up in four ranks here. Jump to it now!"

Brother Melilot and Diggum Cellarmole were edging away when the hare challenged them. "I say, you two chaps, where d'you think you're jolly well off to? Back in line this very instant!"

Melilot put down the feather duster he had been shouldering. "Excuse us, but you'll have to let us go, that's if you want dinner tonight. We're on kitchen duty."

Florian waved them away hastily. "Oh, right you are. Can't have starvin' troops, wot, wot?"

Sister Sloey and Gurrbowl grounded dustpan and window pole.

"Sorry, 'fraid we've got to tend t'the wounded in the Infirmary."

Florian blew a sigh of frustration. "Off y'pop then, you two, excused drill. You there, Dwopple, I said form four blinkin' ranks, not five. Come up front here, sir, where I can keep my beady eye on you!"

Saluting furiously, the mousebabe charged up front, dragging behind him a long-handled oven paddle, which cracked against footpaws and tripped all who came in contact with it, causing widespread chaos.

"Yowch! Go easy with that paddle, you wretch!"

"Oof! An' you watch that ladle, near put me eye out!"

"Aagh! Me footpaw! Get away, y'villain!"

Florian grabbed the paddle and tried to wrestle it away from the mousebabe, who was quite proud of his weapon and not prepared to give it up without a struggle. As he fought for possession of the paddle, the hare kept shouting orders.

"Steady in the ranks there! Stan' up straight, you chaps, pick up those weapons! No squabblin' at the back, that's an order! Where'n the name o' seasons are you three goin', eh?"

"Hurr, us'n's got to set ee tables furr vittles, zurr!"

"Oh, quite. Gimme that paddle before you lay every-beast low, you fiend!"

"You lerra paddle go, mista Florey. It mine!"

"Mutiny is it? I'll have ye locked up in the vegetable cupboard!"

"Mister Florian, how can you shout so heartlessly at a tender babe after all he's been through? Fie an' shame on you, sir!"

"Deesum marm, don't interfere or you'll be locked up with the blighter. Stand fast there, you lot, I haven't told you to move!"

"Dormitory duty. Beds won't make themselves, y'know!"

"Dishwashing. Brother Melilot needs clean pots'n' pans!"

"Ale an' cordials to be brought up from the wine cellar."

"Candles and lamps need attendin' before evenin'."

Dropping their makeshift weapons, Redwallers scurried off, left, right and center. Florian managed to drag the paddle from Dwopple, who threw himself on the floor, kicking all four paws and howling inconsolably at the loss of his beloved weapon.

"Wahaaaah! Rotten ole rabbit pincha Dwopple's paggle. Wahaahaahaa!"

Deesum picked him up, comforting Dwopple and castigating Florian in the same breath. "There there now, my little soldier, did the cruel rabbit steal your paddle, nasty wicked beast!"

"Madam! Cruel, nasty an' jolly well wicked I may be, but I am a hare, marm, not a rabbit!"

"Indeed, sir? Well, you show all the sense of a rabbit, a two-day-old one. You are not fit to command that paddle you have stolen!"