Mossflower woodlands grew practically right up to the east wall, curving slightly at the south corner and petering out to give way to gently sloping gra.s.sland. Directly at the curve a great beech tree had fallen upon the end of the south wall. The ancient forest giant had stood there for untold seasons in high and wide-girthed splendor, only to be felled during the night by the irresistible force sent by weather's wildness.

Near the beech base, Arven could see where the top-heavy tree had broken. Long, thick wood splinters shone white in the rain like the bone fragments and shards of some dreadful wound. In its crashing fall the trunk had hit the wall, scattering battlements, walkway, and sandstone blocks, the tremendous weight hewing a large V shape into Redwall's outer defenses.

As Arven came springing back down to ground, Skipper draped the squirrel's cloak about his shoulders.

"Much damage, mate?" he asked.

Arven nodded. "Much!"

Skipper indicated his st.u.r.dy crew with a wave. "Well, much or little, it don't bother us, matey, we're 'ere to lend a paw in any way y'need otters. Where d'you want us t' start?"

Arven patted the faithful creature's back. "You're a good 'un, Skip, you and your crew. This Abbey only stands by the goodness and loyalty of its friends. But there's nothin' we can do whilst the weather keeps up like this. Come on, let's get you lot inside and find you some breakfast by the fire."

71 Skipper's craggy face broke into a smile. "Lead us to it, me ole mate!"

Mother Buscol was official Redwall Friar, and the small fat squirrel liked nothing better in life than to cook. She watched the hungry otter crew poking their heads around her kitchen doorway and hid her pleasure by scowling at them.

"Indeed to goodness, an' what do all you great rough beasts want, hangin' around my kitchens like a flock of gannets?"

Skipper winked roguishly at her. "Feedin', marm!"

Narrowing her eyes, she shook a ladle at him. "Hot oatmeal an' mint tea's all you're gettin' out o' me this morn."

Skipper came bounding in and swept Mother Buscol off her paws, planting several hearty kisses on her chubby cheeks. "Oatmeal an' mint tea is fer Dibbuns, me beauty. Where's the good October Ale an' a pan of shrimp'n'hotroot soup, aye, an' some o' those shorty-cakes fer afters? c.u.mmon, tell me afore I kisses you 'til sundown. Haharr!"

Her slippered paws kicked the air as she beat the otter playfully with her ladle. "Lackaday, put me down, you great wiry whiskered oaf, or I'll clap you in a boiler an' make riverdog pudden of you!"

Behind her back, Shad had purloined a batch of hot scones, and now he slid past Mother Buscol, chuckling. "Where's yore manners, mate? Put the pore creature down an' we'll wait in Cavern 'Ole 'til brekkfist's ready."

Laughing, Mother Buscol went about her business. "Indeed to goodness look you, shrimp'n'hotroot soup with the best October Ale an' my good shortybreads. Whatever next?"

Dibbuns hastily finished their meal and trundled into Cavern Hole to sport with the playful otters.

"Skipper, Skipper, it me, Sloey, I jump offa table an' you catch me!"

"Burr, 'old ee still, zurr h'otter, oi wants to ride on ee back!"

"Teehee! We tella Muvver Buscol you steal 'er scones!"

Otters rolled and wrestled happily about the floor with the babes, tickling, swinging, and playfighting. Abbess Tansy and Craklyn came to see what all the noise was about, and Tansy shook her head at Skipper and his crew, sprawled on the floor.

72 "Really, sir, I don't know who's the worse, you or these babes. Come on, Dibbuns, be off with you. The elders need to talk with Skipper while he has his breakfast."

Foremole Diggum scratched his head as he inspected the plans Craklyn had drawn up on a parchment. "Umm, can ee go through et all agin, marm, then may'ap oi'll unnerstan' wot ee wants a doin'!''

The Redwall Recorder outlined her scheme for the second time. "As I said, the tree falling has started demolition on the wall, so it's not all bad. But how to move the tree so we can continue with the job? Here's my idea. First we need axes and saws to lop off all the top foliage of the beech, then, if it is not already broken clean of its stump, we must sever it. Once that job is done the tree must be supported by struts, to make sure it doesn't fall any further. Then the remaining wall can be removed, the tree trunk dropped and rolled out of the way. Clear?"

Diggum continued scratching his head. "Hurr, 'tis a pity oi be such a simplebeast, oi'm still all aswoggled with ee plan, marm."

Arven stood up decisively. "Oh, you'll get the hang of it as we go along, Diggum. What's the state of the weather outdoors now?"

Gurrbowl the Cellar Keeper and Viola Bankvole went outside. They were back shortly to report. "The rain has stopped, though it's still quite windy; sky over to the south is clearing. If the wind dies down 'twill be a fine afternoon."

Skipper quaffed his beaker of October Ale. "Right y'are, marm, then let's get those axes an' saws out o' the toolstore an' sharpen 'em up. We'll start work after lunch!"

Still mystified by the plan, Foremole Diggum decided to inspect the job from a different angle. He gathered together a few of his trusty moles for the task. "Yurr, Drubb, Bunto, Wuller, an' ee Truggle, oi figger et's toime us'n's taked a lukk at ee wall proper loik!"

Skipper was greasing a double-pawed saw when he noticed the moles leaving, carrying nothing but a few coiled ropes. "Ahoy, where d'you suppose they're bound?"

Arven glanced up from the axblade he was whetting. "Leave them be, Skip. I could see Diggum wasn't too happy 73 with Craklyn's plan, so I suppose he's going to take a look for himself. You know moles, they always look at things in a different way from otherbeasts, and quite often theirs is the most sensible way. Maybe they'll find out something we don't know."

Foremole Diggum moved slowly along the wallbase on all fours, sniffing the ground, scratching the stone, and probing the soil with his strong digging claws. About midway along the south wall he stopped and, pointing to a spot on the sandstone blocks three courses up, addressed Truggle: "Roight thurr, marm!"

The other moles nodded wisely; their Foremole had made a good choice. Truggle produced a small wooden mallet and began striking the place Diggum had indicated. Diggum placed an ear against the ground, directly below where she was. .h.i.tting, and listened carefully, ignoring the wind and the wet gra.s.s. When he had heard enough, the Foremole signaled Truggle to stop and straightened up.

Drubb blinked earnestly at Diggum. "Boi 'okey, gaffer, oi can tell by ee face you'm founded summat."

Foremole Diggum took a twig and stuck it into the ground on the place where his ear had been.

"Ho oi found summat sure enuff, doant know 'ow oi missed et afore. Wot caused ee wall to sink'n'wobble? Ee answer's daown thurr, 'tis a cave or may'ap summ sort o' chamber!"

Bunto shook his Foremole by the paw. "Hurr! Oi knowed ee'd foind ee answer. Wot now, Diggum, zurr?"

Foremole Diggum's homely face wrinkled into a cheery smile. "Us'n's got some diggin' t'do!"

Five sets of digging claws met over the twig.

"Who'm dig deep'n'make best 'oles? Only us'n's, we be moles!"

15.

Lugworm had done his work well. The two rat sentries guarding Damug Warfang's shelter of brush and canvas sat upright with four empty grog flasks between them. The crafty stoat had known that the strong drink would be irresistible to beasts standing guard through die cold lonely night hours. Lugworm watched them from his hiding place until he was sure the pair were sleeping soundly. Slipping away he found Borumm and Vendace waiting at the place he had arranged to meet them.

Borumm drew his curved dagger, impatient to go about his business. "Everythin' ready, mate, coast clear?"

Lugworm nodded fearfully, wishing he had never been drawn into the conspiracy to slay the Firstblade. "Aye, 'tis ready, but go carefully, Damug's a light sleeper."

Vendace drew his blade, suppressing a sn.i.g.g.e.r. "Light sleeper, eh? Well *e won't be after tonight!"

Lugworm edged away from the would-be a.s.sa.s.sins nervously. "There, I've done me bit, the rest's up to youse two. But remember, if yer fail an' get caught, then not a word about me!"

74.

75 Borumm the weasel kicked out, sending Lugworm sprawling.

Vendace stood over him, snarling scornfully. "Garn, git outta my sight, stoat, yore in this up to yer slimy neck. The only consolation you've got is that we don't intend ter fail, or git caught. Now beat it an' keep yer gob shut!"

As Lugworm scrambled away whimpering, the fox winked at his cohort. "We'll deal wid him tomorrer, no use teavin' loose ends lyin' about. If Lugworm can betray Damug 'e'd do the same fer us someday. Come on, let's pay the Firstblade a liddle visit."

Damug perched in the branches of the ash Uvc near his shelter, the rat Gribble crouching by his side. Together they watched the weasel and the fox as, daggers drawn, the pan-slid by the two sleeping sentries, silent as night shadows. The Greatrat waited a moment, until he heard blades grating against the sack of stones he'd wrapped in his cloak and laid by the fire. Then he nodded to Gribble.

The rat blew two sharp blasts upon a bone whistle.

Pheep! Pheep!

Ten heavily armed Rapmark officers broke cover, rushed in, and surrounded Borumm and Vendace.

It was fine and sunny next morning, a perfect spring day. Da-mug allowed Gribble to dress him in his splendid armor; choosing a cloak that did not have dagger slits in it, draped it loosely across one shoulder, and strolled out to the woodland's edge. The entire Rapscallion army was marshaled there, awaiting him, each beast fully armed and ready to march, their faces painted bright red. The face paint served a double purpose: it instilled fear into those they chose to attack, and marked them so they would not strike one another down in the heat of battle. Damug took up position on a knoll where he could be seen and heard. Whipping out the sword that was his symbol of office, he shouted, "Rapscallions! Are you well rested and well fed?"

A roar of a.s.sent greeted him. "Aye, Lord, aye!" He smiled approvingly. Now his horde looked like true Rapscallions. They bore little resemblance to the cringing vermin 76.

who had wintered on the cold sh.o.r.es after their defeat at Sal-amandastron.

Damug yelled another question at them. "And are you ready to conquer and slay with me as your Firstblade?"

Again the wild roars of agreement echoed in his ears. He waited until they died down before saying, "Bring out the prisoners!"

Over a single drumbeat the rattle of chains could be heard. Covered in wounds from the beatings they had received, three pitiful figures, chained together at neck and paw, were led forward. It was Borumm, Vendace, and Lugworm, stumbling painfully against one another as they staggered to stay upright. Spearb.u.t.ts knocked them down on all fours in front of Damug, and the vast crowd of Rapscallions pressed forward to hear Damug's p.r.o.nouncement.

"Let these three wretches serve as a lesson to anybeast who thinks Damug Warfang is a fool. They are cowards and traitors, but I am not going to order them slain. No! I will give them a chance to show us all that they are warriors. At the first opportunity of battle, these three will lead the charge, their only weapons being the chains they wear. Those chains will stay on them, binding them together until death releases them. They will march, eat, and sleep all their lives in chains. Let n.o.beast feed them or comfort them in any way. I am Firstblade of all Rapscallions. I have spoken!"

The three prisoners were made to kneel facing Damug and thank him for sparing their lives. When they had finished he swept contemptuously by them. Waving his sword at two random vermin, he rapped out, "You there, and you, come here!"

Sneeze wort nudged his companion Lousewort. "Git up there, thick'ead, Lord Damug pointed at you, not me!"

Lousewort approached the knoll where Damug stood. Sneezewort breathed a sigh of relief: whatever it was, Louse-wort would be on the receiving end. The other beast Damug had indicated strode up before him. It was the big nasty weasel.

The unpredictable Warlord circled them both. "Give me your names!"

"Hogspit, they calls me Hogspit, Sire."

"Er, er, I'm Lousewort, yore Lordness!"

77 Damug leaned on his sword and stared at them closely. "Lousewort and Hogspit, eh! And are you both Rapscallions, true and loyal to your Firstblade?"

Both heads bobbed dutifully. "Aye, Sire!"

Damug laughed aloud and clapped their shoulders with his mailed paw. "Good! Then I promote you both to the rank of Rapscour. You two will take the places of Borumm and Vendace, with twoscore each to command. Take your scouts and go now, travel due north, and report back to me every two days on what lies ahead."

Sneezewort was livid. He followed his companion, arguing and shouting at him, "Lord Damug never pointed at you, 'e pointed at me, I'd swear 'e did. Wot would die Firstblade want wid a fleabrain like you as a Rapscour officer?"

Lousewort drew himself up importantly. "Er, er, less o' that, mate, I ain't no fleabrain, I'm a Rapscour now. So don't go tellin' me no more of yer fibs. Lord Damug pointed t'me, you said so yerself, huh, you even shoved me forward!"

Sneezewort was hopping with rage. He ran at Lousewort, shrieking, "I'll shove yer forward an' sideways an' back'ards as well, y'great lump o' lard-bottomed crabmeat!"

But Lousewort was a bit too large and solid to shove. He stood firm, shaking a cautionary paw at his friend. "Er, er, stop that, you, y'can't shove me, I'm an officer now!"

Sneezewort advanced on him, sneering ominously. "So I - can't shove yer, eh? Who's gonna stop me, Scrawfonk?"

Lousewort grabbed hold of Sneezewort and held him firmly. "Ooh, you shouldn't a called me that, that's a bad name to call anybeast! Er, er, I know who'll stop yer, my brother officer. Hoi, Hogspit, there's a low common pawrat 'ere, callin' an officer naughty names an' shovin' 'im too."

The big nasty weasel strode aggressively up and punched Sneezewort hard in the stomach. "Lissen, popguts, don't let , me ever catch you givin' cheek to a Rapscour. An' you, blam-, erbonce, don't let 'im shove yer, see!" I Grabbing them both by the ears, Hogspit banged their heads I- together resoundingly. He strode off, leaving them both rue-T fully rubbing their skulls.

.*V.. Lousewort looked at Sneezewort dazedly. "Er, er, let that '; be a lesson to yer, matey!" he muttered.

78 A short while after the Rapscours had left with their scouts, the great army got under way. Drums beating to the pace of their march battered out at a ground-eating rate as the day advanced into warm sunny afternoon. Northward the Rapscallion host tramped, dust rising in a cloud behind their banners and drums-only three days away from the southernmost borders of Mossflower Country.

A young female hare named Deodar stood on a hilltop close to the west sh.o.r.e. She nibbled at a fresh-plucked dandelion flower, watching a Runner approaching from the northeast. Deodar knew it was Algador Swiftback, even though he was still a mere dot in the distance. His peculiar long leaping stride marked him out from all the others at Salamandastron.

Now he would appear on a hilltop, then be lost to sight as he descended into the valley, but pop up shortly atop another dune, traveling well, with his graceful extended lope serving to eat up the miles easily. The sun was behind Deodar now, hovering over the immeasurable expanses of sea that lapped the coast right up to the sh.o.r.e in front of the mountain. She waved and was rewarded by the sight of Algador waving back. Deodar sat on the sandy tor, enjoying the heat of the sun on her back.

Algador took the last lap at the same pace he had been running all day. He could run almost as fast as his brother, Riffle, the Galloper of Major Perigord's patrol. Breathing lightly, he sat down next to Deodar.

79.

8o

"Hah! So you're my relief. What'll this be now, miss, your third run o' the season?"

Deodar stood, flexing her limbs. "Fifth, actually. Where did you cover, Algy?"

Algador made a sweep with his paw. "Northeast from there to there. No sign of Perigord returning yet, and no signs of Rapscallions or other vermin."

Deodar closed one eye, squinting along the pawtracks her friend had just made. "Righto, Algy, I'll follow you out along your trail then cut west and come back, coverin' the jolly old sh.o.r.eline."

Algador rose and turned to face Salamandastron farther down the coastline. Between patches of green vegetation growing on its rocky slopes, the mountain took on a light buff tinge. An extinct volcano crater jutted in a flat-topped pinnacle over the landscape. He nodded in its direction. "How's Rose Eyes, showed herself lately?"

His companion shook her head. " 'Fraid not, you'll have to shout your report through the forge door. Lady Cregga sees n.o.beast while she's forgin' her new weapon. D'you recall the day she broke her old spear, wot!"

Algador could not resist a chuckle. "Hahaha! Will I ever forget it, missie! Standin' neck high in the sea an' sinkin' two Rapscallion ships, was that ever a flippin' sight. I thought she'd have burst with rage when the spearhaft snapped an' she lost her blade in the water!"

Deodar took off into a loping run, calling back, "Can't stop jawin' with the likes o' you all day, must get goin'!"

Algador waved to her. * 'Run easy, gel, watch out for those sh.o.r.e toads on the way back, don't take any nonsense off the blighters. Take care!"

The sun's last rays were turning the sea into a sheet of fiery copper as Algador entered the mountain. Without breaking stride he took hallway, stairs, and corridors as though they were hill and flatland, traveling upward from one level to another. Sometimes he swerved around other hares and called out a greeting, other times he caught a glimpse of the setting sun through narrow slitted-rock windows. Arriving at a great oak double door, he halted, waiting until his breathing was

81.

normal and mentally going over his report speech. Standing stiffly to attention, he reached out a paw and rapped smartly upon the door. There was no answer, though he could hear noises from inside the forge room. Algador waited a moment, knocked once more, and gave a loud cough to emphasize his presence.

A ma.s.sively gruff voice boomed out, echoing 'round the forge room and the antechamber outside where the hare stood, "I'm not to be disturbed. What d'you want?"