Floater came rumbling awkwardly back down the dune, flopping this way and that, hampered in his fall by the short lance through the center of his back. The body halted its sliding descent right in front of the Cap'n's big wooden clogs.

"Three o' me best fightin' beasts slain. Harr, the mur-derin' scoundrels, 'ooever they are. Right, buckoes, arm yerselves an' take the 'ill. Chaaarge!"

Clogg stood back, whirling his cutla.s.s as he urged them on. The charge was not a notable success. n.o.beast 190.

wanted to reach the top first, and there was a deal of hanging back and accidental stumbling before Clogg realized what was going on. The pirate stoat did a small dance of anger, clogs clicking sharply.

"You bottlenosed bloaters, get up that 'ill right now, d'ye hear me. That's an order from yer Cap'n. Go on, chaaaaarge!"

They stood awkwardly about a third of the way up the dune, still unwilling to storm the hilltop. Clogg unsheathed his cutla.s.s and began bustling his way up, knocking crew members left and right as he did.

"Out o' me way, yer mack'rel-faced, milk-swiggin', muck'eads. Yore nothin' but a pack o' ring-tailed cowards!"

As they turned to look sheepishly at him, a searat called Wulpp screamed when a short javelin zinged out of nowhere and slammed right through his footpaw. The charge immediately deteriorated into an undignified rush down the hill.

Clogg followed in their rear, berating them soundly. "One liddle spear an' yore all runnin' about like beetles in a bucket. Ho shame! I never thought I'd see the day a crew o' mine would dash off without even seein' the enemy!"

When they were a reasonable distance from the big dune, the corsairs stopped and sat down on a gra.s.sy sward. Tramun came clattering up, with Wulpp limping slowly several lengths behind. The corsair Cap'n slumped down and began emptying sand from his clogs.

"Gruzzle, I'm fair disappointed in you, matey, an' you, Dedjaw, an' you, Boggs. Mateys, what are ye all afeared of, a few ole sharpened wooden sticks?"

Whangl A needle-pointed lance arced out of the blue summer sky, narrowly missing Tramun Clogg as it pinned his coat skirt to the ground. The corsair Cap'n leaped up as if he had been beestung, ripping his coat from the quivering lance in the process.

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"Tidal waves an' typhoons! There must be a monster be'ind yon 'ill. n.o.beast could hurl a lance that far!"

The rout continued, with Clogg in the lead as they scurried back to the safety of Marshank.

Behind the sand dune, Felldoh lay watching over the rim at the retreating corsairs.

Ballaw blew a long sigh of relief as he put down his javelins and thrower. "Good job they never charged the bally top an' stormed us. There was enough of the blighters."

Rowanoak dusted sand from herself. "There certainly was. Imagine if they'd got past us, our camp is only over the next hill, south and east on the clifftops."

Celandine suddenly bounced back as if nothing had happened. Primping the lace hems of her tunic, she remarked airily, "Oh yes, I had an idea it was, that's why I headed over this way!"

Ballaw rolled his eyes upward in mock despair. "You dreadful little fibber, miss! You were coming this way because a band of ruffians were chasing you."

"O them!" Celandine tossed her tail huffily. "I knew they wouldn't get me!"

Felldoh turned around from the dune rim. "But how did you know?"

Celandine clasped both his paws, fluttering her eyelids wildly. "Because I knew in my heart that my brave Felldoh would come to my rescue, and you did."

Rowanoak smiled and shook her huge head. "Come on, brave Felldoh, let's get this ruthless charmer back to camp!"

Felldoh felt his face burning as Celandine hung on his paws, praising him outrageously.

"You're so strong, so courageous, and so accurate with your sharp little sticks. Ooh look, I p.r.i.c.ked my paw on one!

When they had gone, Brome emerged from hiding. He 192.

had followed Felldoh with the intention of joining him, until the badger and the hare decided to help his friend. Brome had stayed out of sight, knowing that Ballaw and Rowanoak would have sent him packing, back to camp. So he secreted himself in a clump of tor gra.s.s and watched them rescuing Celandine. Brome had grown a lot bolder since his escape from Marshank. He admired Felldoh and wanted to be like him, but he was treated as a young one in the camp. Brome climbed the dune and peered down on the three dead corsairs, imagining himself launching lances alongside Felldoh and simmering with resentment at being left out.

He slid down the dune on his bottom and sat looking at the three lifeless figures. After a while the young mouse ventured to pick up the sword which lay near Gritter. He swung it in the air, trying a few fancy strokes, an idea forming in his head as he did. There were still a good number of slaves to be freed from Marshank. Imagine the looks on the faces of Felldoh, Ballaw and Rowanoak if he, Brome, came marching back with a score or so of slaves that he had rescued.

The more Brome swung the sword the more he liked the idea. He would do it!

Arming himself with the sword and a dagger from Floater's belt, he dressed himself up in an a.s.sortment of corsair gear which he took from the three bodies. Smudging up his face with a few pawfuls of dust, Brome pulled the brim of Crableg's floppy hat down at a rakish angle and set off for Fortress Marshank. Swaggering along like a villainous searat, he practised the brogue.

"Haharr, I'm Bucktail, as good a matey that ever sailed the seas an' plundered landlubbers. Haharr an' hoho!"

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23.

As Grumm, Pallum and Rose tugged at their neck vines they screamed and shouted insults and threats, despite the menacing presence of the lizards who surrounded them. Martin did not waste breath on words. He fought savagely tooth and paw as the reptiles dragged him bodily towards the fire pit. The red-frilled leader stood impa.s.sively by, tongue flickering, throat pulsing, silent as the rest of his tribe. Martin drew blood from several of the beasts, kicking, b.u.t.ting, biting and gouging whenever he could force a movement among the swarming lizards whose bodies swamped and stifled his every attempt. The fire took off and began crackling, pale wisps of smoke rising to blend with the fetid air as hungry golden red flames danced and nickered in the cooking pit.

A piercing off-key cry rang through the marshlands. Immediately all activity among the lizards stopped. The noise rent the still air a second time. It was not a pleasant sound, something akin to the screech of a gate with rusty hinges, coupled with a loud gurgling ululation. The red-frilled leader's head shook from side to side, eyes flickering and filming as he hissed what appeared to be some type of warning or command. The rest of the reptiles went into swift, silent action. Hustling Martin and his three friends together, they hauled the neck vines tight, securing them firmly to the stakes so that the four captives were forced to lie with their faces in the dirt. Ferns, leafy boughs, rushes, shrubs and all manner of vegetation were piled hurriedly on the prisoners until they were lost to view. Several lizards perched on top of the pile, stretching themselves out as if napping. Beneath the oppressive heap, Martin and his companions fought desperately for breath.

A fully grown male grey heron stalked majestically into the lizard encampment, towering high over the heads of the reptiles as they stood still like statues. The Warden of Marshwood Hill was an immense bird. He glared down at the lizards from his enormous height, dark-pupilled, pale gold eyes watching them from over a savage yellow pair of beak spikes. Throwing back the snakelike column of his powerful neck, he gave throat to a chilling shriek, the twin black feathers on his skull back vibrating.

The dipper zoomed down from the branches of a gnarled wych-elm at the edge of the clearing. It landed among the lizards perched on top of the vegetation and did an excited hopskip dance. The grey heron moved fearlessly and fast, long black sticklike legs pounding the ground as it spread awesome silk grey wings and charged the heap. The lizards scuttled over each other in their attempts to get out of its way, but they were flung high into the air as the heron scattered the foliage, demolishing the entire pile with wings, beak and claw webbed feet.

Martin, Rose, Grumm and Pallum lay exposed on the ground, writhing feebly as they pulled at the taut neck vines. The Warden's dangerous amber beak clacked perilously close to their heads as he severed the vines with careless ease. He watched them for a moment until Martin's eyes opened. Leaning close, he spoke to the young mouse in a precise clipped manner.

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195.

"Lie still, stay there. Do not interfere, lizards! Got to deal with them!"

The Warden strode a measured pace around the camp. There was complete silence. He glared at the reptiles. The lizards stood motionless, tongues in, eyes filmed over as if completely cowed by the mad intensity of the heron's stare. Martin watched, fascinated. The whole affair was carried out in complete silence. The heron would point to the captives with its beak then glare at the lizards. They remained motionless. Regardless of whether or not he trod on heads, bodies or tails, the Warden stalked about the camp, finally halting in front of the red-frilled leader. With a slow contemptuous movement of one leg, the heron flicked the red-frill over on to its back. It was obviously a challenge that the lizard leader had to accept. Wriggling upright, the red-frill hissed and circled to attack.

Lying between Pallum and Martin, Rose watched in horror as the grey heron's beak flashed down. "Oh, how horrible!"

Martin covered her eyes with his paw. "Don't look, Rose. I think I can guess what he's going to do next!"

Grumm turned his face aside. "Burr oo, dearie oi! Never could oi be that 'ungry!"

Pallum nodded in agreement as the Warden turned on another lizard. "Guaw! I never seen nothing like that. It's disgusting!"

Martin shrugged. "Maybe you've forgotten, but those lizards were going to eat us. The big bird is dealing out his justice to them."

The killer's beak flashed down several more times until the Warden of Marshwood Hill had taken his fill. He swallowed and gulped, then threw back his head and gave a sharp cry. It was a signal that the lizards were dismissed. They scattered into the marshes in seconds, leaving the camp deserted except for the four friends and the grey heron. Wiping his beak methodically on a gra.s.sy tussock, he strode across to them.

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"I am Warden of Marshwood Hill. These are my marshes, and I am the only law. Lizards are lawbreakers, toads and snakes also. I do what must be done!"

Martin bowed formally. "I am Martin, this is Rose, Pallum and Grumm. We wish to thank you for saving our lives. We are travelling through your marshes on our way to Noonvale. I was hoping you could help us with some directions."

The little dipper had landed next to Rose. She was stroking its head. The Warden preened his huge downy breast awhile as if considering what Martin had said.

"I know no Noonvale, but I have heard its name spoken. I will guide you through my marshes. Obey my laws, or I kill you. Lawbreakers must be killed. Gather your things, and follow me."

Martin picked up his sword, Grumm found his ladle, Rose and the dipper found the packs-they were untouched, the lizards had not bothered with them.

"Can you put out fire?" The Warden pointed his beak at Pallum. "I do not like fire."

The hedgehog was about to reply when Grumm ambled over.

"Oi c'n put they'm foire out, zurr Wardun, ho urr."

The mole positioned himself by the fire pit and set to work with his remarkable digging claws. Shooting damp marsh earth backwards, he dug furiously. In a short time the fire pit was reduced to a smouldering ma.s.s, covered in the earth that Grumm had spread on it.

The Warden nodded abruptly. "I could not do that. You are a useful creature."

Grumm tipped a paw to his snout. "Thankee, zurr, tho' you'm 'as thoi own uses, oi 'spect, keepin' 'ee law in these yurr swamps."

But the Warden was not listening, he was stalking off out of the camp, calling back to them, "Come, follow me. I will guide you through my marshes to the mountain. I must stay here, I am the law."

197.

As they trekked over what appeared to be a slender trail through the wetlands, Grumm whispered to Pallum, "Yurr, they burd doant say much, do 'ee."

Pallum could not resist doing a comical impression of the Warden. Strutting stiff-legged, he glared at Grumm and spoke sharply. "I am the law. These are my marshes. I am the law!"

Both the hedgehog and the mole burst into subdued chuckles.

The Warden turned and glared at them. "Make fun of the law, and I deal with you. I am the law!"

Pallum and Grumm froze for a moment then they saluted vigorously. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir!"

"You'm 'ee law, zurr. Ho urr, gudd, foine!"

Martin walked along with Rose. He nodded at the little bird hopping by her side. "I see you've got a new friend, Rose. What's his name?"

The mousemaid stroked the little creature's downy head. "Dipper, that's what he is and that's what I'll call him. Martin, did you hear what the Warden said-he'd guide us to the mountain. I wonder where that is."

"Me too. I suppose the only way we'll find out is by following him. He seems to know the country well enough."

"Oh yes, and d'you know why that is?"

Martin smiled knowingly. Leaning close he whispered into Rose's ear so that the Warden could not hear.

"Because he is the law!"

The marshes were dreary, foggy and misty, drab and treacherous. The travellers followed the grey heron step for step, being careful not to deviate from the tortuously narrow trail. Either side of them, moss-hung branches stuck up like spectral limbs from the green-dark ooze that exuded occasional bubbles and wisps of swamp gas. The only sign that evening was approaching was that the atmosphere grew decidedly gloomier. The Warden halted at a juncture where two paths crossed to form a 198.

wooded islet. They sat down in the damp gra.s.s as the grey heron looked about.

"Camp here tonight, travel tomorrow."

Grumm took out his ladle and set about snapping dead twigs. "Hurr, thank gudness fur that. C'mon, Pallum, lend ee thoi paw yurr."

The piercing eyes of the Warden stopped them in their tracks. "What do you do?"

"Make zoop, zurr." Grumm waved his ladle about, chuckling. "Per zoop you'm need a foire. You'm loik moi zoop."

"I do not know zoop. Make no fire. I am the law. I do not like fire!"

Somewhere nearby a frog croaked in the marsh. The Warden followed the direction of the sound with his savage eyes. He swallowed hungrily. "Stay here, do not move. Frogs are about. They are lawbreakers. I am the law, I will deal with them!"

He stalked off into the darkening mists. When he was out of sight, Pallum gave a short, humorless laugh. "Looks to me like the law wants its supper."

Rose was unpacking rations. "What a dreadful idea!" she shuddered.

Martin helped her prepare their meal. "Maybe so, but without the Warden of Marshwood Hill we'd have been lizard lunch today. The bird is a necessary evil, believe me."

Rose laid out two fruit flans, some hazelnut scones and the last canteen of mint and lavender cordial. The food was a bit battered and squashed but still very tasty. Rose laughed as they watched the dipper pecking furiously at a scone.

"Oh look, Martin, Dipper's really enjoying himself. I'll bet he's never tasted anything as nice."

The tiny bird sprayed them with crumbs as he attempted to communicate his pleasure to his new-found friends.

"Goodiz, goodiz!"

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After supper, the dipper whistled and chirped happily. When he had finished they applauded him. Martin lay back, sipping at the tangy cordial.

"Wish I could sing like that. I've got the worst singing voice in the world. Come on, Rose, sing something to cheer us up in this gloomy marsh."

The mousemaid obliged willingly, her wondrous clear voice ringing melodiously into the deep marshland night.

"O happy is as happy does, Misery never useful was, And I am happy now because I'm with the ones I love.

Sing fol lol loh a lairy lay, Let the sun shine bright all day, So I'll go happy on my way With the good ones that I love.

O fie on you, O great disgrace, Look at that sad unhappy face, I'll not walk with you, not one pace, You're not the one I love.

Sing dumble dum and derry dee, You'll have to smile to come with me, Till happiness doth let you see You're the one that I love!"

The dipper chirped appreciatively as they applauded. Grumm shook his head admiringly. "Oi loikes that un, Miz Roser. Allus makes oi feel loike darncen!"

Rose gave the mole a playful shove. "Well come on, old Grummchops, it's ages since I saw you dance!" Grumm stuck his digging claws in his ears, rolling from side to side with embarra.s.sment. "Ho no, oi'm no gurt shakes at 'ee darncen. You'm papa allus used to larff when oi darnced."