"Somebeast get over to the Abbey an' raise the alarm, there's nobeast in the belltower to warn 'em! The rest of ye, follow me!"

Bargle started running along the tops of the battlements toward the southwest corner, tugging the rope across his shoulders. Wily in the ways of battle, the other Guosim caught on right away to what he was doing. Climbing up to join him, each one caught hold of the rope and ran with it, pulling furiously. With a loud grating sound the ladder began heeling over sideways. Rats screeched in panic, caught in a jumble at the top of the ladder, unable to descend because of others clinging on in terror below them. Those lucky enough to be on the low rungs jumped for the safety of the ground, most of them landing on the heads of the bewildered Marlfoxes below. Unable to topple further, the ladder fell awkwardly, spinning out away from the wall, laden with screaming vermin. It thudded to earth with a sickening crunch, snapping at its center as it hit the ground in a cloud of dust and carcasses.

Bargle jumped down from the battlements.- "Down into the grounds, mates, we don't know 'ow many got in!"

The shrew running for the Abbey to raise the alarm was brought down by an arrow. Mayon had his paws full defending the main gates against Gelltor and the ten water rats who had made it over the wall.

Gelltor was fighting for his life and he knew it. If he could not force Mayon and his six Guosim away from the main gate, there would be no help from outside now that the ladder had fallen. The Marlfox fought like a demon, snarling in the face of his enemies as he wielded his ax savagely. Three shrews were laid low as Bargle and the rest of his sentries came thundering up to join the fight. Gelltor and his rats saw them coming and dashed away for the south wallgate, where only three Guosim were on guard. The Marlfox's mind was racing. If he was fast enough they could lay the three low and escape. Bargle went after them, signaling Mayon to stay with his command at the main gate. One of the shrews running with Bargle was halfway across the lawn, whirling a loaded sling, when he tripped. The heavy pebble shot off into the night.

Smash! The stone took out a small windowpane in Great Hall. Janglur, Rusvul and Skipper were up and vaulting over the tabletops even before the final shards of crystal glass had finished falling. Borrakul was hard on their heels, blocking the doorway through which the trio had just exited.

"Friar, Deesum, Sloey! Git those Dibbuns to the wine cellars. Cregga, you an' the elders hold this door. Every other able-bodied Redwaller, toiler me!"

Florian brushed past him in high indignation. "Hmph! Just what I was about t'say m'self. Don't anticipate my orders in the future. Thunderin' bad form, sir!"

Tragglo Spearback could not help raising his eyebrows as he patted Borrakul's back. "Ho dearie me, you've got mister Florian really roused now, mate. I wonder who 'e's goin' to attack with that bowl o' pudden that 'e's carryin'?"

Gelltor had lost the fray. Bargle and his Guosim hurled themselves upon the water rats, with all the skill and ferocity of shrew Warriors. They took no prisoners. Gelltor was backed up against the wallgate, surrounded by a half-circle of rapier blades, when Janglur, Rusvul and Skipper arrived on the scene. Bargle staunched a leg wound grimly.

"Big ole ladder they 'ad, Skip, but I put paid t'that. I think this Marlfox 'ere is the last of 'em!"

Somebeast held up a torch, and Skipper studied the Marlfox in its glow. "Florian, take yore guards up on the walltop an' secure it. We'll search the grounds an' make certain there ain't any more vermin prowlin' about. Janglur, bind this 'un an' lock 'im in the gate'ouse until we decides wot t'do with 'im!"

Gelltor flailed about dangerously with his ax. "Put a paw near me an' it gets chopped off!"

The half-lidded eyes of Janglur settled on the Marlfox. "Tough beast, ain't yer, fox? Yore the one who was goin' to execute me fer sendin' yore sister where she belongs."

The Marlfox spat at the warrior squirrel and bared his fangs. "Talk big with your army round you, windbag. You couldn't face me alone if I was bound an' blindfolded!"

Skipper smiled pityingly at the Marlfox. "Oops! I think you jus' said the wrong thing there, matey."

Janglur waved a paw at those surrounding the cornered Gelltor. "Back off, everybeast. Do like I say an' stand well away."

Rusvul shouldered his javelin and prepared to stride off. "Best do like Janglur says. Where d'yer want us, Jang?"

Janglur's eyes never left the fox as he replied, "Over yonder, out o' the way!"

The squirrel warrior nodded at the Marlfox's ax. "You can keep 'old o' that thing. Now, let's do this-proper. Walk past me, fox, about three tall treelengths, out onto the lawn."

Gelltor was mystified, but he complied, feeling the squirrel's lazy eyes watching him as he paced off the distance.

"Right, that'll do, ye vermin. Stop there."

Gelltor halted and turned to see Janglur whack the bolts back with two sharp movements and fling open the south wallgate. Janglur moved forward a few paces. Standing empty-pawed between Gelltor and the open gate, he addressed the fox. "See, there's freedoman open gate. All you got to do is get past me. Don't fret, nobeast will try t'stop yer, only me."

Gelltor spat on his axblade and swung it expertly, feeling light-headed with confidence. What sort of fools were these Abbeydwellers, leaving only a fatbellied sleepy-looking squirrel between a Marlfox and his freedom? He ran a short distance forward, sprang into a crouch with the keen ax flat-bladed in front of him, and began stalking his prey.

Janglur waited until Gelltor was less than a pace from him. Then, as the ax swung, he dropped to the ground, kicking out sharply. Gelltor went down on his tail with a grunt of surprise. He had never missed a beast with his ax at that range. A sickening pain shot through his left footpaw and he scrambled upright, to find himself facing the squirrel whirling a stone-loaded sling. Limping, Gelltor took two sharp sideways chops at his adversary, snarling angrily, "When I leave here I'll take your head with me, Redwaller!"

Janglur countered a blow, the stone in his sling ringing off the axblade. He swung and caught Gelltor in the stomach. "Save yore breath, bully. Are you goin' t'talk or fight?"

The Marlfox feinted to draw Janglur off, then swung an overhead slice directly between his opponent's eyes. But the squirrel was not there. Janglur had moved his position so that he was standing alongside his assailant. The momentum of the swing buried the axblade in the earth, and the thwack of the stone-loaded sling echoed off the south wall as it struck Gelltor's skull.

Janglur took the ax from the slain Marlfox's limp grasp, passing it to Tragglo Spearback. "This weapon's seen enough evil. Put it t'work in yore cellars choppin' up ole barrel staves. Skip, get those slain rats." He hooked a paw in Gelltor's belt and dragged him outside the wallgate, where he dumped the dead Marlfox on open ground. "Put 'em out 'ere wid their master. I told them they could bury their own when they started this."

When the gate was secured, they started back for the Abbey, Skipper and Janglur supporting Bargle, who sported a makeshift bandage on his wounded leg. Rusvul ruffled the shrew's ears fondly. "That's a wound to show yore grandshrews, mate!"

The tough Guosim limped forward with all speed. "Hah! Never mind that! Is the feast still goin' good? Me'n'my crew bin waitin' on a relief since nearly noon, an' we're starvin'!"

Florian called down anxiously from the walltop. "I "I say, old chap, if y'see a half-finished woodland trifle puddin', well, it's mine, so don't put a blinkin' paw near it, wot!" say, old chap, if y'see a half-finished woodland trifle puddin', well, it's mine, so don't put a blinkin' paw near it, wot!"

"Righto, mate," Bargle called cheerily back. "I swear I won't touch yore trifle. Can't say the same thing for Mayon, though. 'E loves 'is trifle, that 'un does!"

"Cads! Trifle-burglars! Have you no sense of honor, sirs? Leavin' a poor creature up here in charge of your jolly worthless hides while you plunder his trifle, this'll go on your record, I warn you, great shrewfaced vittle-vulture!"

Mayon began ragging Florian ruthlessly. "Are yer partial to mushroom and cheese flan, sir, or anythin' o' that sort? Jus' you tell us wot dishes are yer favorite, mister Florian."

The hare's reply was tinged with hopefulness. "Well, thank the seasons for a decent type o' shrew, wot! Yes, mushroom'n'cheese flan, that's jolly nice. Oh, let me see now, I like summer salad with hazelnuts, blueberry pudden, hot scones with meadowcream, lashin's o' the stuff! Er, apple pie, plum tart, heavy fruitcake with a wedge of cheese, anythin' like that!"

Mayon nodded, as if making a mental note of it all. "Well, don't you fret, sir, we'll remove all that jolly ole temptation outta yore way, so that yore breeches'll still fit yer. Don't forget t'put that on our records, sir!"

They went inside chuckling, with the air ringing to Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop's invective. "Blisterin' salad-swipers! Confounded purloiners of puddens! You mop-pawed ragheaded bread'n'cheese bandits, I hope y'all scoff too much an' explode, see if I'll care? Hah, pish'n'tush I'll say, fiddledy hey an' serves 'em right! Why, I've a good mind t'go to sleep an' allow the flippin' place t'be overrun with water foxes an' Marlrats an' what have you . . . er, I mean, forterwoxes an' ragmats, yes, that's what I mean .. . er, no 'tisn't..."

Chapter 21.

Morning was high and bright by the time the travelers left Sollertree's dwelling with their guide. Song had the feeling that though the hedgehog giant professed to be happy with his lonely existence, he would dearly have wished them to stay longer. In normal circumstances the squirrelmaid would have liked to, but there was much to be done and now was not the time to linger. With their packs refilled from Soil's larder they trudged off, their big friend in the lead carrying the boat Swallow across his shoulders with ease. Dann figured that the path they were taking must once have been flooded by water, for thick fernbeds interspersed with clumps of marjoram, woundwort and hempnettle grew around the slender trunks of young rowan, elder and ash, which provided a veritable palisade on either side of the narrow path. Apart from the birdsong all around there appeared to be no signs of other creatures.

"Looks like we got the woodlands to ourselves, mates!" Dippler remarked airily.

Soil's reply caused them to look to their weapons. "Not quite, me young dears, we're bein' watched. Now now, put not yore paws near blade or sling, 'tis nothin' a beast o' my girth cannot deal with! Follow me, look neither left nor right an' be not afeared."

"Oh yiss yiss, keep close t'the big feller, though I don't see as 'ow he'll defend us," Burble whispered to Dippler as they hurried to keep up with Soil. "Yesterday 'e said that 'twas agin' 'is nature t'be a warrior or harm any livin' creature."

Dippler kept close behind the hedgehog's broad back. He had confidence in Soil. "Don't you worry, Burb, mister Soil will take care of us."

Song's sharp eyes soon picked out the shapes flitting amid the screen of slim treetrunks. Whoever it was tracking them seemed well versed in stealth, using sunlight and shadow skillfully, slipping between ferns and bushes.

"Whatever kind of creature comes at us, I'm not afraid," Dann murmured to her. "This time they won't catch me nappin', I'll wager!"

The pretty squirrelmaid restrained Dann's swordpaw gently. "I know you don't fear them, Dann, but let's do what Soli says, just follow and leave things to him. Look out, here they are!"

There were three of them, a stoat and two weasels. Their appearance was eerie and barbaric. Stripes of yellow clay and green plant dye swathed the trio from ears to footpaws, providing perfect camouflage for the type of woodland they hunted in. A mace and chain dangled from the stoat's paw, while the weasels brandished fire-blackened cutlasses. They stood on the path ahead, boldly blocking the way.

Grinning wickedly, the stoat twirled his mace and chain. "Stay where y'are. This's our forest. Who said youse could walk on our path? I never, did you, cullies?"

The weasels were enjoying themselves. They shook their heads.

"Nah, we never gave 'em permission."

"Trespassin', that's wot they're doin'."

Soli unshouldered the boat, placing it carefully to one side. His voice was calm and friendly. "Me'n'my friends are travelers. We don't want trouble."

The stoat turned to his weasel companions, putting on a mocking tone. "Did y'ear that, buckoes? They don't want trouble. Ain't that nice?" Turning swiftly, he slammed the spiked metal ball of his mace and chain against a thin laburnum tree, tearing off a chunk of bark. His voice hardened as he shook the weapon at the hedgehog. "Well, you've already got trouble whether y'want it or not. Now drop those foodpacks an' yer weapons too, an' leave the pretty boat where 'tis. Then run back the ways yer came an' I'll let yer off wid yore lives. But yer better do it quick!"

Soli held up a large paw. "I hear you, friend. Let me have a word with these young 'uns first." Without waiting for a reply, Soil turned and addressed his followers quietly.

"Steady now, me liddle dears. I know yore warriors an' you could deal with yon vermin, but why waste life? They're only bullies an' loudmouths, or they'd 'ave acted afore now. Leave this t'Soll."

The giant hedgehog turned back then, and took a few resolute steps forward. Seeing the size of him reared up to his full height, the vermin trio fell back a pace. Soil's face was stern and unrelenting, and his voice rang like iron. "Y'see those four young 'uns back there? Well, each of 'em is a Redwall Abbey Champion. They're born warriors. Any one of 'em could lay all three of you out!"

Both weasels looked apprehensive at this statement, but the stoat kept up his swagger. "Yore lyin', 'edgepig. Those four, ha! I'll wager that four seasons back their mammas was still tuckin' 'em in bed!"

Soil raised his bushy eyebrows, widening his eyes until he began to look quite insane, and his voice rose to a roar. "But I only keep my friends for special occasions, an' this ain't nothin' special, three painted popinjays like you. Yore all mine!"

Soil's powerful paws began clenching and unclenching, his eyes popped even wider and his voice swelled like thunder. " 'Cos you've left it until too late to run away now! Y'must deal with me! I'm the son of a gutripper an' skullcrusher! Born in dark moon an' storm! My enemies don't 'ave graves, I et 'em all! First I'll bite off yer ears an' tails! Then I'll build me a great fire, a roastin' fire! I'll cut me a sharp green spit, one that can take three vermin at a time! Then I'll get my skinnin' sword an' I'll..."

But the vermin were gone, whizzing away through the woodlands like minnows with a pike on their tails.

Sollertree sat down on the path, placing a paw across his eyes and shaking his head woefully. "Oh dearie me, grapevines'n'gravel! Dearie goodness gracious me!"

Song hurried forward and held his paw sympathetically. "Mister Soil, whatever's wrong with you?"

The giant hedgehog waved her away. "Leave me a moment, my pretty maid. I've gone an' upset meself with all that temper an' shoutin'. It had t'be done, though I don't like meself when I must resort to anger. Leave me, I beg you."

Song went with her friends to sit a short distance from Soli. Dann's eyes were shining with wonder. "Did you see him? Whew! Imagine what he'd 'ave done if the vermin'd stayed! I shudder t'think!"

Dippler had enjoyed the encounter immensely, once he was over the first fright of Soil's roaring tirade. "Heheehee! Did you see their faces? I thought they was gonna break all their teeth, they was chatterin' so 'ard, eh, Burb?"

"Oh yiss yiss. Meself, I was hopin' that good ole mister Soll'd skin 'em an' roast the rotten toads, like 'e said 'e would. Yiss!"

Song tweaked the watervole's ear. "You bloodthirsty little maggot, mister Soil wouldn't have done any such thing. He knew they were only bullies, so he outbullied them. Look at him, poor creature, he's quite upset."

However, Soil's depressed state did not last too long. He sniffed quite a bit, wiped his eyes and stood up smiling broadly. "Well, that's enough o' that, my liddle dearies. There's plenty o' creatures in this land to upset me, without my upsettin' meself. Life is given t'be lived happily, that's true enough!" Picking up the mace and chain that the stoat had dropped, Soil twirled it above his head until it was a humming blur, then he flung it up and out. They watched in awe as it sailed out of sight over the treetops.

About midafternoon Soil changed course slightly, veering off into an area where the trees were less thick, and small clearings and rocks dotted the land.

"I 'opes you don't mind, my dearies, but I got a liddle visitin' t'do. 'Twon't take up much of yore time."

Dippler sniffed the air appreciatively. "Ooh, lovely, scones! Somebeast's bakin' scones, I can smell 'em."

Sure enough, a wonderful aroma of fresh-baked scones hovered elusively on the hot afternoon air. Soil halted and called out in a gentle singsong tone, "Goodwife Brimm, are you at 'ome?

If'n you are 'tis only me, Now you won't sit all alone, 'Cos I've brought some friends to tea!"

A voice, old and cracked through long seasons, answered him.

"If'n that's who I think it be, Wot a din yore makin', Seems to me I only see, Yore face when I'm bakin'!"

Laughing uproariously, Soli hitched the Swallow farther up on his shoulders and broke into a lumbering run, with the four travelers trotting in his wake.

Goodwife Brimm was a small, thin otter, incredibly old; her fur had turned a beautiful silver-white. Song had never seen an old otterwife dressed so charmingly, from her poke bonnet and puff-sleeved gown to the flowery pinafore with dainty lace edging. The goodwife's home was properly built from baked clay and mud bricks, walling in a flat almost square rock spur, which formed the roof. White limestones separated her vegetable and herb garden from a blossoming flower patch. The old otter left off gathering rows of scones from a window-ledge, where they had been cooling, and hobbled forward to greet her friend. Soil and Goody Brimm hugged and kissed fondly.

"My ole Goody Goody, prettiest otter an' best cook anywheres!"

"Soli, you big flatterer, yore singin' ain't improved none!"

"So it 'asn't, marm, but I got one 'ere can outsing larks!"

Soil introduced them, while Goody Brimm kissed their cheeks and squeezed their paws right heartily for one so frail-looking. "Fortune smile on 'em, ain't they so young an' beautiful, Soil? My my, swords'n'slings'n'rapiers! Proper young warriors all. Come in and sit, I was about t'put the kettle on!"

Inside was the neatest, tidiest house they had ever seen. A brightly hued rush mat covered the floor from wall to wall, pottery ornaments graced the highly polished dresser, there were even embroidered linen headrests on the chairbacks. Goody Brimm put a sizable copper kettle over the fire to boil, then, rolling mint leaves and dried burnet rose hips almost to powder with a long round stone, she tossed them in a fat blue teapot. Tea at Goody Brimm's house was very special. The travelers helped themselves to almond wafers and scones, spread with every kind of preserve from blackcurrant jelly to gooseberry and damson jam.

Soli hauled two bags from his pack. "Brought you some grapes'n'almonds. Good crop this year."

They explained their mission to the otterwife, who listened, sipping her tea and nodding, while encouraging them to eat more. When they had finished their tale, the old goodwife spoke. "The stream flows well not far from here. Soil will have you there by eventide, so don't gollop yore food an' rush off, now. Lackaday, young 'uns are always in a hurry. Slow down, 'tis better for you. Now then, pretty miss, with a name like your'n I think you should carry a nice tune. Do ye know one called 'Mother Nature Dear'? 'Tis a great favorite of mine."

Song answered without hesitation. "Aye, I know it well, marm, my grandma Ellayo taught it to me. 'Twas a long time ago, but I recall every word."

Goody chuckled and winked at Soil. "A long time ago, eh? Like as not two seasons back. When yore old as me, then y'can talk about long times, my beauty. Come, sing for me."

Song began tapping her footpaw, and they all tapped along with her until the rhythm was just right to start singing.

"Who taught the birds to sing?

Why Mother Nature dear.

Who told the winds an' breeze to blow, Rain to fall an' snow to snow, Rivers to run an' streams to flow?

Oh Mother Nature dear!

Who colored grass so green?

Why Mother Nature dear.

Who tells the moon, come out at night, And teaches stars to shine so bright, Then orders sun and clear daylight?

Oh Mother Nature dear!

Who makes the seaons change?

Why Mother Nature dear.