Billum nudged Gonff. "Oi 'spected thurr moight be, hurr hurr."

Chibb ignored the mole. "Harrumph, yes, there's the question of the eagle, Argulor. Ahem, as you know, he is back in the area of Kotir. This puts an, ahem, element of risk upon my espionage activities."

Columbine nodded in agreement. "Indeed it does, Mr. Chibb. I appreciate this. Should you be attacked or injured in any way by large birds, we propose in doubling your fee. Do we have a bargain, sir?"

Chibb was almost dumbfounded by this generous offer. He held out a claw to Columbine. "Er ahem, a bargain, Miss Columbine. A bargain indeed!"

Paw shook claw. Lady Amber interrupted to give details of the spying mission to the robin, Gonff tossed the two bags expertly up into Chibb's home hi the elm, and goodbyes were made all around as the friends departed. A few paces into the undergrowth Lady Amber held up a paw.

"Hush! Listen!"

Silently they tried to stifle their laughter as the sounds of Chibb reached them. The robin was stuffing himself with his fee, coughing with excitement as he crammed candied chestnuts into an already overflowing beak.

88.

'' Ahemcawscrunffmmmharrumphcrunch!'' Martin held his sides as tears from stifled laughter ran down his cheeks. "Hahaha, oh dear, listen to that. Oh, the little glutton! Columbine, whatever possessed you to offer him a double fee like that?"

Columbine leaned up against a tree, helpless with mirth. "Well I, oh, heeheehee, I could have offered him ten times the fee, if I'd have thought, ohahaha. Imagine a robin coming back to claim a fee after being attacked by a golden eagle, - hahaheeheee. There wouldn't be enough of him left to make a smear on Argulor's beak. That eagle could scoff Chibb in a half-mouthful, hahahaha!"

Tsarmina stood at a barred window in full view of Argulor's perch.

"I'm here, you great feathered blindworm," she called.

Argulor took the bait; the fierce instinct of his ancestors would not allow him to do otherwise. The eagle launched from his perch with a blood-chilling screech, diving like a great winged missile at his insolent tormentor.

Tsarmina danced triumphantly and laughed aloud at the sight of the half-blind eagle smashing against the barred window. "Haha, you blundering old feather mattress. Dozy farmyard fowl."

Argulor struggled awkwardly on the narrow window ledge, trying to marshal his wings into a proper flying position to regain what was left of his dignity. The great eagle slipped from the sill, landing on the ground. He had to resort to an 'ungainly lopsided shuffling run to attain flight.

Tsarmina purred aloud and dug her claws into a rug, open-Ing and closing them, reveling in the pretense of pinioning lietpless woodlanders in her needlelike grip, puncturing imaginary hides. Suddenly she whirled over, tossing the rug Tiigh in the air. Leaping upon it, she rent it fiercely with her savage strength. Fragments of the flayed rug flew about the toom as she ripped and slashed. Hairs and fibers floated in fine sunlit shafts from the bars, dancing with golden dust *^inotes on their way to the floor.

* Filled with exuberance, the big cat paced restlessly. Soon ;% bunch of woodlanders would be marched in, sniveling and bound, to await her pleasure.

89.

And what pleasure! Some she would deal with personally; otters, yes, she would take them down to the Gloomer's lake and see how well they would swim bound up and weighted with stones-that would teach them manners. There were one or two squirrels that could do with jumping lessons from the battlemented roof of Kotir. As for the rest, well, there were always plenty of good hard work and cells.

Tsarmina sprang down the stairways and the dripping pa.s.sages of her fortress, heading for the cells, where sunlight seldom penetrated. Two stoat guards tried hastily to come to attention as their Queen hurtled past, but they were knocked spinning sideways.

Picking himself up from a pool of slimy water, one of the stoats rubbed his head where it had banged against the walls.

"By the fang! What d'you suppose is wrong with her, this time?"

His companion felt gingerly at the sore beginnings of a lump on his snout. "Huh, your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know, she's not down here for the good of our health. We'd better get straightened up before she comes back this way."

Tsarmina ran from cell to cell, peering through the bars at the hostile interiors as she muttered aloud, "Yes, good, this is ideal. They'll soon learn obedience down here. Males in one cell, females in another and young ones in a special prison all of their own, where they can be heard but not seen by their parents. Haha, I must remember that: heard but not seen. Well, what have we here, all alone in the darkness?" > Gingivere was fading into a gaunt skeleton. The once glossy coat was ragged and graying, his whole body had an air of neglect and decay about it, except the eyes. They fixed Tsarmina with such a burning intensity that she was forced to look away.

"Well, well, my one-time brother, I thought perhaps that you had perished by now in this unhealthy atmosphere, dark, cold, damp, with little to eat. But cheer up, I'll find you an even darker and deeper prison when you move out to make room for the new lodgers I'm planning. How would that suit you?"

90.

Gingivere stood clasping the cell bars. He stared at his sister.

Tsarmina shifted nervously. Her previous mood of euphoria rapidly disintegrating, she became irritable.

"Never fear, my silent, staring brother. I can soon fix up other arrangements for you. A sword, perhaps. Or a spear during the night to deepen your sleep."

Gingivere's eyes burned into Tsarmina, and his voice was like a knell. "Murderer!"

Tsarmina broke and ran, pursued by the voice of her brother like a spear at her back.

"Murderer! You killed our father! Murderer! Murderer!"

When the sounds of Tsarmina's flight had died away, Gingivere let go of the bars and slumped to the floor, hot tears pouring from his fevered eyes.

After their trek through Mossflower to find Chibb, the little party were ready for food. Now that all the woodlanders were billeted at Brockhall, mealtimes were like a constant feast, so many different dishes were contributed. A pretty posy lay in the middle of the festive board symbolizing the coming together in springtime to oppose the reign of Kotir.

Gonff was conscious of Columbine watching him. Bella had given the little mousethief permission to sing grace, and he stood up boldly and sang aloud, >i Squirrels, otters, hedgehogs, mice, '* Moles with fur like sable, Gathered in good spirits all, Round this festive table.

Sit we down to eat and drink.

Friends, before we do, let's think.

Fruit.of forest, field and banks, To the springtime we give thanks.

; The woodlanders began pa.s.sing food. As Gonff sat down, s he winked at Columbine, showing no sign of modesty. '"

91.

Martin had sat at many tables-farm tables, inn tables, and, more often than not, any handy flat piece of rock where he could lay his food. Now he sat back and surveyed the board before him with wonder. Bulrush and water-shrimp soup provided by the otters; a large flagon of Skipper's famous hot root punch; hazel nut truffle; blackberry apple crumble; baked sweet chestnuts; honeyed toffee pears; and maple tree cordial, a joint effort by hedgehogs and squirrels. The Loamhedge and Mossflower mice had combined to provide a number of currant and berry pies, seedcake and potato scones, and a cask of October ale. By far the biggest single offering was a colossal turnip 'n' later 'n' beetroot 'n' bean deeper 'n' ever pie with tomato chutney baked by the Fore-mole and his team.

Normally a solid trenchermouse, Martin would have stuck to deeper 'n* ever pie, but Gonff encouraged him and Columbine to sample some of everything.

"Here, matey, how's that for October ale? Columbine, try some of this hot root punch. How d'you like seedcake? Try some of this, both of you. Come on, have a wedge.

"Hey, Martin, d'you reckon you'd get the better of one of these toffee pears? Come on, get stuck in, stuck in, hahaha.

"Put that hot root punch down, Columbine. You look as if your face is on fire. Try some of the maple tree cordial."

Ferdy and Coggs sat nearby, hero-worshipping Martin and Gonff.

"Tell you what, Coggs. If ever I come across a broken sword I'm going to hang it round my neck, just like Martin the Warrior."

"Huh, fancy trying to keep old Gonff locked up in Kotir! I'll bet he could come and go with both paws tied. You know, I think I look a bit like Gonff."

"Of course you do. I look like Martin-pretty quiet and very brave-or I will be when I'm older. Just wait and see."

"Come on, matey. We've eaten enough. Let's go off together and invade Kotir before we get sent to bed. We can slip away quietlike."

In the hubbub and confusion of the feast, n.o.body noticed the two baby hedgehogs take their leave.

92.

A crescent moon hung over the warm spring night, casting its cloak over the light early foliage of Mossflower Woods. Indifferent to the woodland floor carpeted with dark green gra.s.s, dotted with bluebell and narcissus, Fortunate stopped in her tracks and held up a paw for silence. Immediately she was b.u.mped by Brogg and Scratt, two weasels who did not stop fast enough. Ferrets and weasels in their turn blundered sleepily into each other.

Fortunata bared her teeth impatiently. "Stand still, can't you. I think I hear something."

The patrol held its collective breath and listened intently.

Scratt dropped his shield with a clang. They all jumped with '* fright. Fortunata cursed at the hapless weasel, but he was tired and weary of listening to pointless orders.

*'Ahh, what's the difference, fox? We're on a right fool's errand in this jungle, I can tell you. Huh, tramping about all day in full kit and armor, without anything to eat, and not a sight or sound of a living thing, except the sign of our own pawtracks that we keep coming across. What are we sup- 1 posed to be doing out here, anyhow? That's what I'd like to : know."

' There were murmurs of agreement. Fortunata cut in quickly to stem any ideas of mutiny. ' 'All of you, get the soil out of your ears and listen to me. Can you imagine what will happen if we march back to Kotir empty-pawed? Well, can 93.

you? By the claw, it doesn't bear thinking about. Imagine the Queen-d'you think she'll say: 'Oh, you poor creatures. Didn't you find any of those naughty woodlanders? Well, never mind, come in and take off your armor, sit by the fire and have a bite to eat.' "

One particularly stupid ferret grinned hopefully. "Oh, that would be nice."

Fortunate was about to give him something painful to think about when she heard the noise once more.

"Ssshhh! There it is again, coming right toward us. Right, this is your chance to carry out the mission properly. I want you all out of sight. You lot, get behind those trees. You others, hide in the bushes. When I give the signal, come out whacking. Use your spear handles, shields, branches- anything. I want them taken alive. Here they come! Hide quickly."

As the soldiers dropped out of sight, a cloud obscured the moonlight. At that moment a band of dark shapes came into view.

The vixen ran out shouting, "Now, up and at 'em, troops!"

Spurred on by Fortunata, the soldiers dashed from hiding. They charged with a roar into the midst of the intruders, dealing out heavy blows, kicking, biting, scratching and pounding away at the enemy. The air was rent with blows, screams, thuds and yells of pain.

Exulting in the chaos of the ambush, Fortunata seized the nearest figure and thrashed it unmercifully with her staff.

Thwack, bang, crack!

"Yeeow, aargh, oo mercy, help!"

It was only when she kicked out savagely and splintered the wooden leg that the vixen realized she was close to slaying Ashleg.

"Stoppit! Halt! Pack it in, you fools. We're fighting our own!" Fortunata yelled at the top of her lungs.

When the clouds moved, moonlight illuminated a sorry scene. The soldiers of Kotir sat about on the gra.s.s, moaning pitifully. Broken and fractured limbs, collective b.u.mps, bruises, sprains, missing teeth, blackened eyes, contusions and some very nasty scratches were much in evidence.

Ashleg sat on the ground, nursing his wrecked wooden 94.

leg. "You b.o.o.by, you knothead, you nincomp.o.o.p of a fox, you, you . . . !"

"Er, sorry, Ashleg. But how were we to know? Why didn't you signal that you were coming?"

"Signal, you brush-tailed blockhead! I'll give you a signal!" The marten flung his broken wooden leg, catching Fortunata square on the top of her nose.

"Yowch! You twisted little monster, there was no call for that. We thought you were woodlanders; it was a genuine mistake."

Ashleg rubbed a swollen ear. "Woodlanders! Don't talk to me about mat lot! We've patrolled this forest until our paws are sore. Not a solitary mouse, not so much as the hair off a squirrel's tail or the damp from an otter's back."

The vixen slumped down glumly beside him. "Same here. Where d'you suppose they've vanished to?"

"Huh, search me. Tsarmina will skin us alive when we get back."

Scratt threw down his spear and sat with them. "Aye, you're right there. Ah well, maybe we'll have more luck when it gets light. We may as well camp here. At least we can search around for roots and berries."

Fortunata and Ashleg looked at each other.

"Roots and berries . . . Yuk!"

Chibb the robin circled the crenellations of Kotir in the dawn light. There was not a lot to interest the little spy; the garrison was still asleep. He noted each window and what was inside: snoring ferrets, slumbering weasels, dozy stoats, even Tsarmina in her upper chamber, stretched out in splendor upon a heap of furs. The wildcat Queen was dreaming troubled dreams of water, muttering to herself, pushing the air as if it were water enveloping her. Chibb flew down and lighted on the parade ground near the wall. Keeping a watch for the eagle, he set about breakfast. From a small bag slung about his neck he selected a candied chestnut; not one of the big smooth ones, but a small wrinkled nut that had lots of sugar in the cracks. Chibb liked them better that way.

Chibb noted that he was near something which looked like a drain outlet, a hole cut into the wall at floor level. He bopped inside, peering about curiously. It went slanting 95.

downward as far as he could see. Nibbling the nut daintily, the tat robin explored the tunnel. It was quite dry underclaw.

Chibb c.o.c.ked his head to one side, listening to the sounds of ragged breathing from farther down the tunnel. "Ahem, hem, must be somebody still asleep."

Working his way further down, he found his progress arrested by three vertical iron bars set into the tunnel. This was no drain; it was the upper window of a cell. Chibb edged up to the bars and peeped down. He was looking into the burning eyes of an emaciated wildcat seated below upon the damp stones.

"Humph, harrumph, hem, 'scuse me."

Gingivere shaded his eyes, staring upward at his strange visitor. "Please don't fly away. I won't harm you. My name is Gingivere."

The robin c.o.c.ked his head airily on one side. "Ahem, humph. You'll excuse my saying so, but you don't appear to be in any position to harm me. Er, ahem, must go now. I'll *drop by and see you another time."

Chibb beat a hasty retreat back up the tunnel. The wildcat with the staring eyes had quite unsettled him. At the edge of the tunnel the robin ate the last of his nut, then flew off back to Brockhall to report his findings.

The day promised to be fine and sunny. Chibb flew high, knowing that the sun in the east would shine in the eyes of predators looking west. He took not the slightest interest in the woodland floor far below. Had he flown lower, he would have noticed Ferdy and Coggs lying in a patch of open sward, fast asleep, their paws about each other, blissfully unaware that a short distance away Cludd was making an early start at the head of his patrol.

Bella was up and about early that morning, being a light sleeper. She received Chibb's information about Gingivere being imprisoned. This was already known to the Corim through Martin and Gonff, yet it gave Bella pause for thought; Kotir was now definitely ruled totally by the cruel Tsarmina.

Martin joined her for an early morning stroll in the woodland before breakfast. The badger had matters to discuss with the warrior mouse.

"War is coming to Mossflower, Martin. I can feel it. Now 96.

mat we are all at Brockhall, the defenceless ones are safer, but I listen to the voices at Corim meetings. The squirrels and otters are not satisfied with merely resisting Kotir's rule- they want to challenge it."

Martin felt the broken sword hanging about his neck. "Maybe that is no bad thing, Bella. Mossflower rightfully belongs to the woodlanders. I will do all I can to help my friends live without fear."

"I know you will, little warrior, but we are not strong enough. We have few who are trained in the art of war. If Boar the Fighter, my father, were still ruling here, there would be no question he would fight and lead us to certain victory."

. Martin noted the sad, faraway look in the badger's eyes. "He must have been a mighty warrior. Does he still live?"

Bella shrugged. "Who knows? He followed his father, old Lord Brocktree, to go off questing. This was before Verdauga and his army arrived in Mossfiower. My mate Barkstripe was slain in the first battle against Kotir and my son Sunflash lost to me forever. Barkstripe was more farmer than warrior. Had it been Boar the Fighter that faced Kotir, we would have won, lam certain of it."

Martin turned his steps back to Brockhall.