Mattimeo Part 24

Orlando lost his temper. He took the battleaxe by its head and made a mighty sweep at Cheek with the long handle.

Darkness had practically fallen, and the young otter 249.

did not see the axe handle craning. It struck him a blow and pushed him off into the water with a loud splash. "Yah gerroff, you great stripedo-"

Splash!

Cheek could not deny his birthright; he was an otter through and through. As skillfully as any fish, he cut through the water surrounding the rah, appearing alongside Basil.

The hare looked at him suspiciously. "You're chewing, young Master Cheek. Where are you hidin' the food?"

Cheek smacked his lips, 'little fishes. The river's swarmin' with 'em, mere must be millions. Taste lovely, though. I'd have got into the water sooner if I'd known 1 wasn't eoin' to be afraid and all mis food was here."

With mat, he disappeared beneath the surface and began filling his stomach with the finny delicacies. Cheek was biting back.

On sh.o.r.e Stonefleck rapped out orders to one of his Captains. "Light some flaming arrows. Shoot at the raft. Hurry, or they'll paddle it out of our reach. Tell the others to get the ferry going. See if we can get doser. The rest of you, keep firing."

The rat Captain looked quesnoningly at Stonefleck. "But surely they'll be eaten by the fishes?"

Stonefleck fired off an arrow before replying, "If s the otter. I forgot about that one. He'll eat those fish like a pig at acorns."

"But there's far too many fish for him to eat. Chief. The water's alive with 'em/' the Captain argued.

"Fool! Once those fish sense there's an otter in the water, they'll stay away from that area. Then those creatures will be able to paddle the raft out into the mainstream current. I want to finish it here tonight, not in the morning a night's march down the bank. Now get about your business."

Matthias heaved a sigh of relief. "Whew! At least those fish aren't biting so much."

250.

Cheek popped up beside him. "Yum, yum. You've got me to thank for that!"

Orlando ducked him back under with a big blunt paw.

"Stop gabbing and keep scoffing. You to thank indeed! You mean you've got my axe handle to thank. And don't think you won't taste it if you don't keep those fishes away, young otter."

The night sky was cut by the light of a flaming arrow which shot through the dark to bury itself in the side of the raft.

Jess put it out by squirting a mouthful of water at it. "Fire arrows, Matthias/' she remarked. "Look, I can see by the light of their fire that they're launching a raft."

Matthias redoubled his efforts, "Hurry, everybeast, kick out as hard as you can,"

Cheek gripped a trailing rope in his teeth and swam strongly with it. The raft doubled its speed. Arrows zinged all around them as the rats leant over the rails of their own ferry raft.

"Keep down, keep pulling, keep paddling," Orlando yelled. "They're coming after us."

As he shouted, a shrew next to him let go and floated away, transfixed by an arrow.

Stonefleck was on the ferry raft, firing arrow after arrow.

"Don't let them get away," he exhorted his army. "Get the poles. Come on, get pushing with those poles. Fire! Keep after them!"

With superior numbers and long poles, the rat ferry drew closer to the raft. Stonefleck waved to the sh.o.r.e.

"No more fire arrows," he ordered. "You might hit us. We've got them now!"

Log-a-Log spat into the water.

"Did you hear that, Guosim. Kick now. Kick for your lives!"

The woodlander's raft pulled away fractionally, but Stonefleck urged his rats to greater efforts with their long poles.

251.

The two vessels were separated only by a thin margin of river. Stonefleck and a few chosen rats stood outside the rails of the ferry, preparing to jump from one craft to the other. The light of victory gleamed in Stonefleck's normally impa.s.sive eyes.

Matthias pulled himself up and saw what was happening.

"It looks as if they're going to board us/' he said gloomily.

Orlando heaved himself from the water and stood dripping on the deck of the raft, waving his battleaxe.

"Come on, rats, lefs see what you've got inside your heads!" he taunted.

An arrow from the rat ferry struck Orlando in his paw. He pulled it out contemptuously. Snapping it easily, he flung it at Stonefleck.

"You'll have to do better than that to stop me, ratface!" he called.

Suddenly the raft sped off downriver on the rushing current. The rat ferry stopped stock-still, throwing Stonefleck and several others into the water.

Hurriedly, the rats dragged their leader and the others back aboard.

Stonefleck tw.a.n.ged his wet bowstring and spat water. "Why didn't somebeast untie the ferry towropes? Pull us back to sh.o.r.e. We'll have to follow along the bank."

A ragged cheer arose from the shrews' raft as the friends disappeared into the night on die rushing water.

That evening, a group sat around the table in Cavern Hole discussing General Ironbeak's ultimatum. The reaction was angry and indignant. "Who does he think he is? Redwall isn't conquered mat easy."

"We beat them once, we can do it again." "Aye, but this time Ironbeak has the hostages." ''He'll kill them if we don't surrender." "Hurr, he'm a crafty owd burdbag, thafn."

252.

The Abbot rapped the table. "Silence, please. We have no time to sit about arguing. What I need is some sensible suggestions. Let us review the position. The raven has the hostages, and no matter how we try to buy time or debate, he'll kill them eventually, make no mistake about that. I tried to bluff him today, possibly I succeeded, but it won't last. Listen, even if it meant the loss of just one life, I would have to surrender the Abbey, We cannot have three deaths on our heads; it is against all our principles."

Winifred the Otter thumped the table with her tail. "Play the villain at his own game, then. Whaf s the name for it? Er, subterfuge, that*s it. We'll use subterfuge."

Every creature sat up bright and attentive. When there was no response to Winifred's suggestion, they slumped back.

"We'm gotter be a-thinken 'ard, ra.s.slin' wi' uz brains," Foremole urged.

More silence followed.

"Surely somebody must have a glimmer of a plan?" Winifred said sadly.

"Here comes supper. Lefs think while we eat," the Abbot suggested.

"Good idea," Ambrose Spike agreed. "Sometimes I thinks the brainbox and the stomach bag is joined up some'ow. Hoho, I say, they done us proud, acorn salad and spiced apple'n'damson pie-"

"Pie, that's it!"

They turned to stare at John Churchmouse.

"I was trying to remember the name of those black and white birds that are with Ironbeak. It's pie. Magpie!"

The Abbot put aside his platter. "Go on, John, think hard. Have you got an idea?"

John scratched his whiskers in frustration. "Oh, if only I could remember what it was. It's stuck right between the tips of my ears. Hmph! It's no good, I've forgotten now."

Ambrose supped October ale noisily from a beaker.

253.

"Pity, I thought you was goin' to come up with a plan to get your missus an' Cornflower an' that baby down off the roof."

"The roof, the magpies, thafs it!" John Churcnmouse banged his paw down on the table, squelching a wedge of pie by mistake. "Of course, I saw those three magpies only this morning, robbing our orchard and flying up to the eaves. Those birds are Ironbeak's supply line. He needs them to bring in food!"

"And if we could capture 'em, we could do a swap," Winifred said through a mouthful of salad. "Three magpies for three hostages. Good idea, John."

"Burr aye, vittles be of more use to burdbags than 'ostages. Otherwise they'd be a-starved from 'unger," Foremole added.

Constance rapped the table. "Right, lef s get a proper plan organized. What we propose is to capture the three magpies and exchange them for the hostages. No army can survive without supplies, and Ironbeak knows this. He wouldn't be able to keep his followers here if they were starving. This way we can save Redwall and get the hostages back. But how do we capture the magpies?"

The Abbot held up a paw. "1 used to be the Abbey fishermouse before I was Abbot. Could we not snare them with fishing nets? We've got lots of big nets."

"Well said. Abbot, but magpies are not fishes. How would you snare them into nets?" Constance asked.

Ambrose Spike poked his snout out of the ale beaker. "Find out where they get their food supplies and put down bait."

"I think they get their supplies from our orchard," John Churchmouse said, licking pie from his paw.

Little Sister May was highly indignant. "I'm certain they do. Father Abbot! Only today I saw them from the infirmary window, those three dreadful birds, stealing from our orchard. Anything that falls ripe from a bush or tree, they cany off. If s theft, that's what it is."

"Durty ol' burdbags, oi was a-wonderen whurr all they ripe strawb'rries was agoin'."

"Exactly, Mr. Foremole." Sister May wagged a reproving paw. "At one time it was only you and Mr. Stag Hare who used to steal them, but those three birds, gracious me! You'd think we were growing strawberries just for their benefit. I watched them guzzle down a great load before carrying off as much as they could with them. Disgraceful!"

Foremole covered his eyes with a huge digging paw. "Hurr hurr. Sister, Oi was only a-testin" they berries. It were mainly young Mattimeo an' that Tim'n'Tess wi' thurr squirrel pal as scoffed most o' them. Hurr hurr, young roguers!"

"You're right, Foremole," John Churchmouse sniffed. "I only wish they were still here to do it. I for one wouldn't grudge them the odd strawberry from the patch."

There were murmurs of agreement from all.

Little Sister May blew her nose loudly. "Well, talk like this isn't getting many dishes washed. I've got an idea. Suppose we gather the ripest strawberries and sprinkle mem with some sort of sleeping potion, then we could put them in one place in the orchard and lie in wait with the nets."

"Sister May, I'm shocked and surprised at you!" Abbot Mordalfus shook his head in amazement. "What a good idea. But I'm not sure we know enough about sleeping potions. Thafs the sort of thing the masked fox used on us. You can look to villains for that sort of thing, but we are only simple Abbey dwellers."

"Leave it to me. Father Abbot," little Sister May smiled sweetly. "I have enough herbs, berries and roots in my infirmary cupboard to lay a horse out flat. Oh, it will be exciting. I've always wanted to try my paw at sleeping potions."

Foremole tugged his snout in admiration. "You'm a proper liddle fiend an' no mistake, marm. Oi'll escort you up to 'firmary to pick up your potions an' suchloik."

Ambrose Spike crooked a paw at the Abbot. "Follow 254.

me, I've got your big nets stowed away in my cellars." Mobilized by fresh hope, the Abbey dwellers went about their tasks.

Up in the roofepaces Cornflower rocked the sleeping baby Rollo upon her lap as she and Mrs. Churchmouse conversed in hushed tones.

"Look, bless him, he's snoring away like my Mattimeo used to when he was a baby," she said, becoming sad. "I don't think there's a moment of one day since Matti-meo's been gone when I haven't thought of him. First I worry, then I tell myself if 11 be all right because Matthias will have probably found him, then ! go back to worrying, men I tell myself he may have escaped. Oh, Mrs. Churchmouse, if only they were all babies again like Rollo."

"Aye, those were the best times. My 11m and Tess were a right pair of little scallywags, I can tell you. Mr. Churchmouse and I never got a wink's steep that first season they were bom. All they wanted to do was play the whole night long. D'you suppose that the raven will really have us thrown from the roof?" asked Mrs. Churchmouse apprehensively.

"h.e.l.l do what he has to, Mrs. Churchmouse. I'm afraid of him, but I don't care what happens as long as that horrible bird doesn't get Redwall. That would be the end."

The Churchmouse stroked baby Rollo; he had stopped snoring and started sucking his paw.

"What hope is there for this poor little mite, no mummy and a prisoner too?" she wondered.

Cornflower sighed. The roofs.p.a.ce was dark and chilly with night draughts sweeping in under the eaves. All around them the black birds perched in the rafters, and it was difficult to tell whether they were awake or sleeping. She wondered where Matthias was and what he would be doing at this moment. Thinking of her husband, the Redwall Warrior, gave her courage again.

"Don't you fret, Mrs. Churchmouse. Our friends in the 256.

Abbey will have made plans to free us, you'll see. Lef s try and get a bit of sleep. Here, we'll share my old shawl."

Clouds scudded across the moon on their way across the night sky, while a million stars twinkled over the gently swaying forest.

257.

33.

Mattimeo was awakened by the sound of the night guards. Bageye and Skinpaw were on duty, and they walked past the sleeping captives conversing in low earnest tones. The young mouse could not hear what was said, though he strained his ears to catch any hint as to their eventual destination.

"Marti, are you awake?"

"Only just, Tess. Keep your voice down, the rest are still asleep."

"Is anything the matter?" the churchmouse asked.

"Yes and no," he replied. "I was trying to hear what tihe guards were talking about. They've seemed very edgy since we left the forest and hills where Stonefleck and his rats live."

"Thaf s strange, I noticed the same thing last night, before we camped down here. They're all so silent and uneasy, even Slagar."