The Outcast of Redwall Part 2

"Mum says you two'n's will take some feedin'!"

Tiny shooed the babes off. "Come away, you liddle rogues, let the pore creatures up now."

Around the fire in the cave's center various concoctions were cooling on flat rock slabs. Bruff Dubbo presented them with beakers, which he filled from a pottery jug. "Yurr, friends, 'tis on'y dandelion-an'-burdock cordial, but et be no-ice an' cool t'drink, ho aye!"

It was dark, sweet, and delicious, and the two friends slaked their thirst. Dearie LingI pushed two of her brood forward, saying, "Standee up straight, 'oglets, an' say your piece. C'mon now, stop suckin' those quills or they'll never 'arden. Speak out!"

Both the small hedgehogs shuffled about, tugging their headspikes respectfully as they recited: "Thankee sir 'awk an' sir badger..."

"For savin* all in this cave..."

"From the naughty foxes ..."

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"Aye, naughty, naughty foxes!"

"Bad verminy foxes!"

"Rotten uckypaw stinky ole foxes!"

Dearie wagged a paw at her little ones. "Tut tut! That's quite enough, thankee!" She turned to the two friends, who were hiding smiles by burying their faces in the beakers, and said, "Wot my liddle ones was say in* is that our families would like to thank you for rescuin' us from the vermin. You must stay 'ere as long as you wish, our cave is yours. Come now, friends, enough talkin', 'elp yourselves to food."

Sunflash and Skarlath had never tasted such good cooking. There was young onion and leek soup, hot brown bread spread with a paste made from beechnuts, a woodland salad, and a huge apple-and-greengage crumble. The crumble was a great favorite with the little ones, who spread it thick with honey.

Old Uncle Bhmn sipped piping hot soup from a wooden bowl gratefully. "Oi wurr feared oi'd waste away to an ole shadow. Gurr! Vittles do taste gudd arter all that 'unger!"

Sunflash had an enormous appet.i.te, but the good wives of Tiny and Bruff would not hear of him stinting himself.

"Allus plenty more, zurr, thurr be an 'ole woodland full o' vittles for us'n's t'choose from now ee've set uz free!"

And so Sunflash the Mace did full justice to the spread.

It was late into the night when he and the kestrel sprawled by the fire, warm, rested, and, for the first time in many a season, unable to eat another mouthful. The old mole. Auntie Ummer, hunted out a curious-looking instrument, a stout pole with bells, two strings, and a pawdrum attached to its base. She plucked the strings, jangled the bells, and tapped the drum with a footpaw. The babes, who were far too excited to sleep, began jigging and hopping around the fire, clapping their paws.

30 "Whurrhoo! Play ee gurdelstick! Whurrhoo!"

Old Uncle Blunn began tapping his paws and chanting: "w.i.l.l.y Nilly Nilly, Pod Pod Pod! All you'm 'oglets stamp ee ground, Moi ole paws b'ain't young loike yores. Show us 'ow ee damce around!"

The gurdelstick music speeded up, and the little ones whirled and leaped, jigged and tumbled until they collapsed in a giggling heap, yelling for dandelion-and-burdock cordial. Tirry invited the friends to sing, but his guests declined, Skar-lath being too shy and Sunflash explaining that he had never learned a song, being in captivity most of his young life.

The homely hedgehog patted Sunflash's ma.s.sive paw. "By me spikes, that is a shame! No matter, my Dearie 'as a voice like a lark at morn in a meadow, she'll cheer you upl"

Dearie Lingl had a jolly, clear voice, and she sang happily: "I once 'ad a cattypillar come t'live with me, We was both the best of friends as ever there c'd be.

He'd wiggle "round upon the ground, he'd smile an'

shake my paw. An' every time that 1 went out, stop in an* guard my door. But men one time when I returned I cried out "Lack a day!"

My little cattypiilar, he had left an' gone away. An' there upon my mantelpiece a b.u.t.terfly I saw, Far too proud to speak to me, he flew right out the door. Colored bright in warm sunlight, that creature winged away, I've never found my cattypillar to this very day.

31 Which makes me say unto myself, now I am old and wise, I do like cattypillars, but I can't stand b.u.t.terflies!"

Laughter and applause greeted Dearie's song. The two families were used to entertaining themselves, and there followed a whole repertoire of songs, poems, and dances. Then, as the fire was allowed to fall into embers, they took their rest in the warm, dim cave.

Sunflash had never been so happy and contented in his life. He hummed along as one of the small hedgehogs sang herself to sleep drowsily with a curious little chant: "Arm not alas sand, 'way south in the west, So star land a mat, there's where I love best, Sand not as alarm, lone seabirds do wing, And alas most ran, list' to me whilst I sing."

Each time the babe reached the end of this strange ditty, she went back to the beginning and sang it again, her voice growing drowsier and drowsier until it was silenced by sleep. Something about the jumbled, meaningless words and the sad tune kept going round in Sunflash's mind. Finally he shook Tiny gently, and said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. Are you awake?"

"Hm, mm, just about, friend, d'you need ought?" "That song your little daughter was singing, what is it?" "Oh, you mean the one with all the funny mixed-up words and the nice tune. It's an old thing that my Dearie learned from her mother, she prob'ly learned it from her mother, and so on, way back. All our hoglets know it, pretty tune, silly verse."

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Sunflash gazed into the glowing embers through half-closed eyes, and said, "I don't know why, but I'd like to learn it."

Tinry smiled as he settled into a comfortable ball. "I'll tell the babes tomorrow, they'll be only too happy to oblige ye, sir."

The seasons turned through spring and summer to a mellow autumn. In the highlands of the far east, Bowfleg's drums beat Out their message of warning, while Swaitt and his ragged band of vermin traversed over tor and scrubland. The pounding drums sent word to three rat runners from Bowfleg's camp, who took off at a swift lope, heading for a long cliff range that puckered the land like an old scar.

At the foot of the cliffs, bunched close like dirty thunderclouds, lay the tents of Bowfleg the Warlord. The runners halted beneath the purple pavilion awning of the sprawling tent at the hub of it all and prostrated themselves in front of the circular dais. Bowfleg lolled on his throne, peering at the messengers through the puffy eyelids of his swollen features. The old ferret grunted as he leaned his gargantuan bulk forward and asked, "H'wodd do de dromms say?"

At the sound of the Warlord's strange accent, the senior rat looked up and made his report. "Mighty One, the drums tell 33.

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of Swartt Sixclaw coming hither with a band numbering not more than twoscore."

Bowfleg dismissed them with a snort. "Chah! Dadd one, de runaway, met'ink 'e be long dead!"

A stoat Captain standing nearby leaned close to Bowfleg. "Sixclaw was always spoken of as a wildbeast, a strong fighter, even when he was very young. I would watch that one, Lord."

Bowfleg grabbed a roasted thrush from a side table and wrenched off a mouthful. "H'Swartt, 'e can join my 'order-anks, de gudd fighter iss always of use. If nodd, I crosh 'im, like dis!" The Warlord flattened the thrush carca.s.s against his throne with a single blow of his clenched paw. "Bring *im 'ere when 'e arrive!"

The stoat Captain, whose name was Greenclaw, saluted smartly and marched off.

At mid-noon Swartt Sixclaw entered the camp of Bowfleg bearing gifts-a carved spear, two belts studded with bright stones, a flagon of fine wine, and a drinking cup of silver. Swartt1 s small band were disarmed and kept outside under guard by a detachment of swordbeasts, each of whom wore a crimson tabard bearing Bowfleg's insignia, a single white fang in a green circle. Greenclaw escorted Swartt into Bowfleg's presence. The ferret knelt respectfully, noting the giant weasel who stood behind the Warlord's throne.

The gifts were placed before Bowfleg, who turned them over with the point of his scepter. "Leave us now," he ordered Greenclaw. With a snort of contempt he looked at the young ferret kneeling before him. "When you young an' cheeky, you t'ink you better'n Bowfleg, liddle runaway, gonna bring back mooch plunder. n.o.beast cudd tell Swartt any t'ink den. Ho no, 'e knew everyt'ink. Chah! Nodd mooch for one who he's away so long, eh?"

Swartt could be a charmer when required. Smiling disarm-ingly, he looked up at the Warlord and shrugged. "I can go many places an' see many things, but to learn real wisdom an* courage I return to the master."

Bowfleg's vast bulk shook as he laughed. "Kyahaha! Dadd's gudd, you still know who he's master!"

Swartt stretched forward and kissed Bowfleg's footpaw. "How could I forget, Lord-you taught me all I know. I was young and foolish when I ran away from here. I am wiser DOW."

The Warlord beckoned Swartt to stand upright. "HTm glad to see you G.o.dd more sense, budd don't t'ink you be wiser dan me. Anybeast feel like dadd soon he's dead!"

Sixclaw turned aside so the other could not see his eyes. "I must remember that, Lord-too much wisdom can be the death of a creature, very good!"

The old Warlord waved his scepter at the gigantic creature standing behind his throne, saying, "You see dis wizzel? 'E be Wurgg de Spinecracker. Dis one guard me night'n'day, 'e slaved many manybeasts. You watch!"

At a nod from his master, the giant weasel stooped and lifted the throne with Bowfleg sitting on it. Showing no sign of strain or effort, he held it chest high then lowered it slowly at Bowfieg's signal.

*- "H'wodd you t'ink o' dadd, eh?" the fat old ferret Wheezed.

Swartt was impressed. Cleverly he let his mouth fall open wide, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "Never did I see a ;fjeast of that size or power! Lord, you have both wisdom and Strength on your side, n.o.beast would dare to oppose you."

Bowfleg c.o.c.ked his head on one side, staring at Swartt pen-$ively. "Den why do you comm 'ere?" ,$HSwartt Sixclaw sat on the top step of the dais. "Only to you, Lord, and to tell you of the rich lands that lie to 36.

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the south and west. Maybe one day I can travel there with you, as a Captain in your horde."

Bowfleg nibbed a fat paw across his stomach and began to laugh. "Kyahahakyukyuk! I don't travel nowheres, dis iss my land. H'wodd I wanna travel for, G.o.dd everyt'ink right 'ere. I like you, Swam, you young, full of de big ideas. 'Ere you come oud of nowheres, raggedytaggle! H'an' wodd you bring me, eh? Spear? I G.o.dd many spears. Belts? Nodd bigg enough. Cup an' wine? Who nidd dem?"

"The spear is a symbol of your power, Lord," said Swartt, indicating the gifts one by one. ' 'The belts are a sign of my support, but the wine is special, fit only for great ones." He uncorked the wine flagon and sniffed it delicately.' "The oldest wine of the southlands, dark and sweet with the juice of elderberry and plum, specially for you."

He offered the bottle to Bowfleg. The Warlord sniffed it and smiled craftily. "H'you t'ink I be stupid. 'Ere, I want to see you drink."

Swartt took the flagon, pausing as he held it to his lips. "You see. Lord, I learn from you all the time. If this wine were poison then I would be a deadbeast...." Tipping the flagon, he drank deep. "But I would be the stupid one if I offered you poisoned wine. It is good wine, the best, that's why I brought it to you."

Bowfleg watched Swartt a moment, on the lookout for ill effects, then said, "Give me somm, I tell you if it iss gudd wine!"

Swartt offered the bottle, then, as if remembering his manners, he pulled back and filled the big silver drinking cup, which he pa.s.sed to Bowfleg.

The Warlord smiled over the rim of the cup at him, "I still be's watchin' you. 'Ow you feel, eh?"

"Never better, sire." Swartt chuckled. "But if you still doubt me, then try the wine on your giant there."

The Warlord patted the ma.s.sive weasel's paw. "Ah yiss, my h'fait'ful Wurgg, comm drink."

The weasel lifted the chalice like an eggcup between two of his thick claws. He emptied it with a loud sucking noise and gave the cup back to his Lord with a smile and a single word: "Good!"

Bowfleg put on a face of mock indignation as he looked up at Wurgg. "Hoi! I say h'wodd's gudd, give me somm a dis wine!"

Swartt filled the cup three times before the greedy Warlord was satisfied. Bowfleg lounged back on the throne, confident that the new arrival posed no threat to his leadership. "Zo, h'you back now, Sixclaw, gudd, gudd! You go now, find you'-self a tent, inna mornen we spikk more togedder."

Swartt knew he had been dismissed. He made an elegant leg and bowed before he left the tent, saying, "Sleep well, Lord Bowfleg!"

Dawn arrived wreathed in soft white mist, promising a mild sunny day. The drums beat out again over the scrub-scarred highlands, but this time the rat runners did not raise the alarm, for only one creature approached the camp. It was the vixen Nightshade, whom Swartt had purposefully instructed to follow him, leaving one day's gap between their arrivals.

The rat runners kept their distance from the fox, considering her some kind of wild mystic. Nightshade did nothing to disabuse them of the idea, indeed, she had dressed to look the part. A tatty feather-trimmed cloak swirled about her painted and mud-daubed body, and she carried a long staff decorated with bones, hanks of hair and sh.e.l.ls. It clanked and clattered as she shook it at the runners, chanting in a reedy quaver: "Gurgling, rattling, final breath, Brings me from Dark Forest gate, 38.

39 I, the messenger of death.

King of Darkness, Lord of Fate!"

Fires from the previous night's embers were being blown into life by a few early risers as the runners escorted the vixen into Lord Bowfleg's hordecamp. Spying the main tent with its prominent pavilion, she made her way straight to it. Two stoat sentries guarding the closed tent flap moved nervously aside as the odd-looking fox grimaced and shook her staff at them. Nightshade stood in front of the entrance and howled a long eerie call.

"Hawoooooooo! I am the Seer! Ayaaaaaaaaai! Death has been here!"

The runners and sentries were obviously frightened of the ragged vixen, who was now performing a crazy shuffling dance in front of the main tent. They huddled together, muttering.

"I wonder why Lord Bowfleg hasn't heard her?"

"Aye, it's strange that he hasn't sent Wurgg out to snap 'er scrawny neck an' stop 'er caterwaulin' like that."

"Well, I'm not goin' to try an' move 'er!"

"But we can't just stand 'ere, what's t'be done?"

"I say we go an' rouse the Captains, let them sort it out."

"Aye, good idea, mate, come on!"

As word of the vixen's arrival swept through the camp, the hordebeasts deserted tents and cooking fires en ma.s.se to follow the group of officers heading to the main tent. Two stoat Captains, Greenclaw and Aggal, together with a rat named Scraw, who was a senior Counselor, heard all the sentries and nmners had to say. They watched the vixen dancing and chanting in front of the closed pavilion entrance.

"Mightier than the Warlord, Who must come to his call, 40.

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I am but a messenger, Death rules over all!"

Greenclaw was made of stern stuff. He drew his sword and, rapping out orders, pushed the vixen to one side. "Seize this one and hold 'er; I'll get t'the bottom o' this!" Greenclaw ripped the flaps aside and strode boldly into the tent. The other officers followed him in a bunch.

Lord Bowfleg sat slumped in his chair; the giant Wurgg was seated on the top dais step, his back against the throne legs. Both creatures looked as if they were merely sleeping, but the rat Scraw could see differently. He put his face close to Bowfleg's, at the same time touching his footpaw to Wurgg's limp form.

A short inspection was sufficient for Scraw. He turned to the a.s.sembly, shaking his head. "Dead, both dead! Not a mark on either of 'em. Who could have done this?"

Greenclaw voiced his opinions so that all could hear. "I left Lord Bowfleg and Wurgg alive and well with Swartt yesterday-let's ask him!"

The six-clawed ferret was dragged into the tent by four armed guards. He struggled free, shouting, "Getcher claws off me or I'll flay yeh alive!"

Greenclaw had appointed himself official interrogator. "Answer me, Swartt. What took place here yesterday when you were alone with Lord Bowfleg and Wurgg?"

"I gave Lord Bowfleg gifts," Swartt sneered at the officious Captain, "and he said he'd accept me into his ranks as a Captain, nothing else."

Scraw picked up the gifts of spear, belts, and wine. He shook the flagon; wine swished inside. "Was this wine one of the gifts you brought? Did the Lord drink any?"

Swartt chuckled knowingly. "He certainly did!"

"Did you drink the wine also?"