Martin The Warrior Part 29

Grumm waved his ladle. "Hurr, we'm made et. C'mon!" He broke into a run, went head over paws through the loam and rolled down the valley side chortling happily, his three companions' paws thrumming the ground as they took off in a dash after him.

Urran Voh was not an old mouse though he was completely grey and wore a beard. As the Patriarch of Noon-vale he was an impressive figure, dressed in a flowing green robe with a thick cream-colored cord at its middle. His wife Aryah stood beside him, beautiful and motherly in a lilac gown embroidered with green leaves. Rose threw herself into their welcoming paws breathlessly.

Both mice hugged their daughter affectionately. Aryan's welcome for Rose was interspersed with anxious enquiries about her son.

"Oh, Rose, my Rose, you're home. Did you find your brother? My, you've grown taller, slimmer too. That rascal Brome, did you see him? Did he mention his mother and father? Noonvale has been quiet without your singing, Rose. Is Brome following along? Will he be here soon?"

Rose's heart sank. Brome and Felldoh had not found their way to Noonvale! She could only hope that they were safe, somewhere . . .

Rose began gasping out her story, but Urran Voh held up a paw. "Later, it is enough for now that you are 294.

safely home, Rose. No doubt you've risked life and limb several times to help your brother. You must realize that Brome is a born wanderer, never content and stubborn to the last word. Well, that young mouse is getting big enough to look after himself. But if you've agreed to meet up here, I expect he'll turn up sooner or later. Maybe someday he'll have sense enough to stay in Noonvale and not go das.h.i.+ng off every time the mood takes him. Ah! Grumm Trencher, you good mole, greetings. Who are these two young creatures?"

Grumm introduced them. "Yurr be Pallum an' Mar-then 'ee Wurrier, zurr. They'm wunnerful gudd friends to oi an' Miz Roser."

Rose's mother Aryah cut short the introductions busily "We can talk later. You must be starving. Rose dear, show your friends where they can wash and find clean robes, then bring them to the Council Lodge. I must prepare a homecoming party for you!"

Sometime later Pallum and Martin stood at the entrance to Council Lodge. It was an immense, homely old thatched building, its foursquare banquet tables dominating the centre beneath smoke-darkened rafters. Rose and Grumm led Pallum and Martin in. Bathed in blossom water and clad in a clean faded purple tunic, Martin held Rose's paw, standing slightly behind the mouse-maid. The Lodge was packed with the inhabitants of Noonvale. They stood, cheering Rose and Grumm heartily.

Rose tugged Martin's paw. "Come on, take a bow, Martin."

The young mouse bowed formally amid the applause. Urran Voh waved him up with the other travellers to their places at table. Everybeast stood as the Patriarch raised his goblet. "Good food, good friends and peace for ever in this place!"

"May the seasons always be kind to Noonvale!" a mult.i.tude of voices answered as one.

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They sat, and the welcome party began.

Throughout his life the memory of that happy day stayed locked secretly in Martin's heart.

He sat with Rose between her parents, speechless at the sight of the abundant tables. Flowers trailed everywhere, from the rafters, walls, windows and table edges. Roses, lilies, vines and blossoms festooned the whole place, twining around the urns of strawberry cordial, dandelion and burdock cup, mint and lavender water, chestnut ale, blackcurrant wine and cider. Platters and trays were heaped high with salads, cheeses, breads and pasties whose contents he could only guess at. Babies and little ones seated on their parents' laps gazed longingly at the array of trifles, flans, puddings, pies and tartlets, each with its honey-covered contents peeking through mounds of cream.

Grumm chose a deep slice of cherrycake glazed with candied nuts. Allowing the tiny mole sitting with him to take a huge bite, he chuckled. "Burr hurrhurr, doant boite off more'n you'm can chew, Bungo!"

It took a while for the infant to swallow it all. He tugged at Grumm's snout. "Hurr, then get oi some staw-b'rry drink, Nuncle Grumm. You'm wouldn't loik oi to purrish o' thirst!"

A friendly hedgehog maid sat next to Pallum, offering him various savoury delights. "Try our leek and chestnut pastie. Here, let me pour some thyme and radish sauce on it for you."

Pallum dug in gratefully. "Thank you, marm. Most kind of you, marm."

"Marm? What do you think I am, some old spike-maid?" she laughed. "My name is Teaslepaw. Have you tasted our chestnut ale? My family brews it."

Pallum flushed beneath his spikes, burying his snout in the beaker. "It's very tasty, marm, er, Peasletaw, Paw-seltea, er, marm!"

Martin and Rose chose a damson and hazelnut flan 296.

topped with mintcream. They attacked the plate from both sides, meeting in the middle of the platter. Rose wiped cream from Martin's nose with a napkin.

"What'll we try next, cherrycake?"

Martin shook his head vigorously. "No thanks, I don't want to go to sleep yet!"

They both laughed, remembering the sly Aggril.

Boldred was slightly too large for any seat. She perched on a windowsill, demolis.h.i.+ng a wild plum and apple pudding, watched by a group of admiring youngsters.

"Can you eat all of that by yourself, Missus Boldred?"

The owl raised a large talon. "I can eat three of these without stopping. This is excellent!"

The onlookers' eyes grew even wider. "Three plum 'n' apple puddens. Great seasons!"

The party went on until late into the night. Nothing was stinted, there was an abundance of everything for every creature. The guests sat back, sipping mint and lavender water as a quartette of otters performed an acrobatic dance, while a band of mice and moles accompanied them, playing a lively slipjig on reed flutes and drums. At a nod from Rose, Martin excused himself quietly, and followed the mousemaid and her parents to their cottage.

Urran Voh relaxed in his favorite chair. Aryah took out her embroidery. She sewed slowly as they listened to Rose tell of their adventures.

Martin sat at a window seat, letting Rose do all the talking. As Rose described the evil and cruelty of the slaves' lives at Marshank, her parents' faces became more and more grave.

Rose came to the end of the tale. Her father nodded, "You did well to return home, Rose. While there is such evil you should be here with your family. If only Brome could see this too. I am sorry that he and his friend Felldoh are not here safe, as you are. Let us hope he has 297.

the good sense to see that the outside world is not for him and he returns to us before the autumn."

Martin took a deep breath. "Sir," he said, "I agree that Noonvale is a haven of peace. Would that we could all live in such. But outside there is evil, and I cannot rest here knowing that those I lived with in slavery are still under the heel of Badrang. I came here for help. Will you allow me to ask for that help among the folk of Noonvale? There may be some here who would join me in a quest to free my friends from slavery."

Urran Voh's face was serious. "You ask a great deal. Our creatures have never seen war, they are dedicated to our life of friends.h.i.+p and peace."

His wife said quietly, "But my dear, where there is such pain and hards.h.i.+p for so many innocent creatures, surely we could let Martin speak to our folk. Any who wish to help can decide for themselves."

Urran Voh turned to Martin. "My wife speaks wisely. I do not wish for evil to become part of our lives here, but maybe we can prevent the wickedness from spreading. Very well, Martin, ask my creatures for help-and good fortune go with you.

"I see that you carry a blade. We do not have such things here. For the time you are with us you must not stay armed. Give me your sword, Martin."

The young mouse placed a defensive paw on his sword handle. "I am sorry, sir, I cannot do what you ask."

Urran Voh's eyes were stern in the awkward silence that followed.

Aryan intervened between the Patriarch and the Warrior. "Martin, I know my husband's feelings, but I think I also know yours too. You have seen suffering and evil in your life. There is none of that to be found at Noon-vale. Would you do something for me? I am not asking you to give your sword to Urran. Take it and hang it on the peg by the door. Do this yourself, no one else will touch your blade."

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Without a word Martin drew his sword. Going over to the door, he hung the weapon upon a peg protruding from the wall, balancing it by the hilt. It hung there, small and lonely-looking. The young mouse could not help thinking of his father's blade, big and worn, but a proper warrior's weapon, now in the paws of the Tyrant. He would take it back someday ... somehow.

Rose smiled happily at him. "Good, come and I'll show you to your room."

At a glance from Urran Voh, Aryan intervened once more. "No, Rose, you'll have Martin up half the night talking. I'll do it. Follow me, young mouse."

When they had gone, Rose's father put his paw about her shoulders and sighed unhappily. "Rose, listen to me carefully, daughter. What I tell you is for your own good. This Martin, he is a warrior, and death walks alongside such creatures. You must never let yourself grow too close to him."

The mousemaid smiled. "Father, you're not a warrior, you're a worrier. Martin is my best friend in the whole world, he would never hurt me or let me be hurt. I'll change him, you'll see. One day he will be the most peaceful creature in Noonvale!"

Urran Voh rose from his chair slowly. "You and Brome are alike, both strong-willed. I only hope that you are right, Rose, though I think no good will ever come of your friends.h.i.+p, because I can tell that Martin has a will and determination far stronger than any I have ever come across. Good night, my Rose. Before you sleep, think on what I have said."

Rose ruffled her father's grey beard. "Good night, you great fusspot. There's nothing to think about except a much needed night's rest. When you come to know Martin the Warrior as well as I do, you'll understand."

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r 34.

Felldoh had planted caches of javelins all around Marsh-ank. In the half-shadowed world of twilight he was like a phantom. Two sentries hung over the wall, slain by his accurate throwing. Inside the fortress another one had been slain and three lay wounded.

"More pesky buryin' fer me to do in the mornin'," Tramun Clogg snorted as he peered out from under his wheelbarrow. "Stripe me, iffen I waits long enough I'll 'ave Marshank alone to meself, 'cos I'll be the only beast left livin' 'ere!"

Badrang paced the floor of his badly charred longhouse. Several prominent horde figures sat in silence as he ranted angrily.

"We're not das.h.i.+ng out into the night to get picked off like flies. That's what those slaves want. I'm not going to fight on their terms, I'll do it my way when the time's right!"

Crosstooth played with a dagger, twirling it deftly. "Yore right, Sire. I've told everybeast to keep under cover. Them that gets 'urt or slain, 'tis their own fault."

Slamming himself down in his chair, the Tyrant gulped wine.

The weasel Lumpback unwisely voiced an opinion.

"But if we don't fight back, they've got us pinned down. They'll start thinkin' we're frightened of 'em an' begin attackin' 'arder!"

Badrang hurled the wine jug. Lumpback scarcely had time to duck as it smashed on the wall behind him, covering the hapless weasel with pottery shards and damson wine. Badrang's teeth were bared as he hissed at Lumpback, "Who asked you, dirtbrain? I don't need the thoughts of idiots and halfwits to do my planning for me. Maybe you'd like to get out there and face them yourself!"

Boggs felt sorry for Lumpback. He could see it would only take a sudden whim for Badrang to send the weasel out on the sh.o.r.e alone. "Go easy, Lord. He was only sayin' -"

"Easy?" Badrang's face flushed dark with rage as he stood and threw the chair over. "Go easy, you say, while a stinking pawful of slaves are holding Marshank and an entire horde under siege...!" Whipping out his sword, he leaped at the group. "Get out of here! Go on, out of my sight, you mindless mud-crawling morons. You're about as much use as a one-winged gull!"

Yelling and shouting, they scrambled over each other to avoid the flailing blade and get out of the door.

Felldoh came out from behind a rock, his keen ears twitching as he pinpointed the sounds of the scuffle. With remarkable precision he quickly sent off two javelins, one after the other.

Lumpback was last to leave, he had been dodging the swordplay as Badrang chased him. With a yell he dived out of the open door, straight into Felldoh's first javelin.

Badrang slammed the door shut quickly.

Thruck!

Felldoh's second javelin pierced the half-burned timbers. The weapon came right through, stopping a hairs-breadth from the Tyrant's bloodshot eyes. Badrang 300.

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slashed with his sword, chopping the javelin in two pieces. Flinging back his head, he roared out into the gathering night, "Sneaks, cowards! I'll chop you into n'shbait if I catch you!"

"Come on out then, stoatface," Felldoh's deep voice boomed back from the sh.o.r.e. "Two can make fishbait!"

"Sc.u.m!" Badrang yelled back at his unseen foe. "I'll fix you good and proper when the time is right!"

Felldoh's harsh laughter rang out in reply. "Hahahah! Sc.u.m yourself, yellowbelly. Hide in your fort. I know you're scared!"

"Scared, me?" Badrang's voice went shrill with spleen. "I am Badrang, Lord and Tyrant of all these lands. n.o.beast can stand against me. I was killing and fighting while you were still clinging to your mother's tail!"

Felldoh had got a fix on the voice. Three javelins in swift succession burst through the longhouse door, another one thudded into the roof. Badrang lay flat behind his upturned chair, gripping the wood tightly to stop himself trembling.

"Hahaha, missed me," he managed to laugh back. "Pity you can't throw those things straight!"

Felldoh's reply came deep and confident. "Don't worry, I've got all night to practice. Don't go to sleep now!"

Gathering his javelins, Felldoh slid off into the night, leaving behind a very worried stoat.

Peering through a crack in the gate, Tramun Clogg saw the shadowy figure hurry off south toward the cliffs.

"Harr, 'twere as I reckoned - only one beast. Well, I'd best get me sleep. No use tryin' to tell 'is Lords.h.i.+p he's safe to 'ave a bit o' shuteye. He wouldn't take the word of a slave."

Away in the safety of the clifftops, Ballaw sat watching the gloomy little groups of creatures sitting around the campfire. All day long the mood had been heavy among 302.

them. The hare finished sipping cider from a scallop sh.e.l.l and made his way over to where the Rambling Rosehip Players lounged about by the cart.

"Evenin', chaps an' chapesses, wot! My my, you lot look like a pile of frogs that've been to a rock-swallowin' party. No wonder our chums are lookin' glum if an entertainin' troupe can't smile."

Brome smiled wanly at the garrulous hare. "What do you want us to do?"

Ballaw twiddled his long ears cheerfully. "That's the spirit, young Brome me laddo. I'll tell you what I want you all to do. Bring a bit of cheer into those creatures' sad little lives, a laugh, a smile and a song. Let's do a show!"

Celandine fluttered her eyelids and cooed. "What a lovely idea. You'll have to wait until I've got myself ready though, Ballaw. Dearie me, I must look an absolute fright!"

"Fright?" Ballaw tickled her under the chin. "You, me pretty one, never. You look absoballylutely gorgeous. Come on, you apprehensive actors, the show's tonight!"

The audience sat shaking with laughter, their eyes s.h.i.+ning in the firelight, the day's troubles temporarily forgotten as they watched the antics of the Rambling Rosehip troupe.

Rowanoak braced her huge back as Gauchee, Kastern, Trefoil and Buckler formed a pyramid on it. Buckler stood highest, on top of Trefoil's head.

Ballaw swirled a floppy cloak as he placed a sc.r.a.p of material on the ground and called to the audience, "Pray silence. Please, no t.i.ttering or throwing objects whilst this dangerous trick is in progress. Malcolm the Magnificent Mole will dive from a very great and perilous height on to this damp cloth. Ladies an' gentlebeasts, I present Malcolm the Magnificent Diving Mole!"

There was a round of applause. Buckler, dressed in a baggy costume and wearing a curly black moustache, 303.

took a wobbly bow from on top of the pyramid and announced dramatically: "Oi be ready an' willin' to die, An' moi wages be a custard pie!"

Dressed in a spangled gown, Celandine paraded, showing the audience a huge custard pie.

"Oh, dive, my loved one, my dear. I have your wages here!"

"Well, hurry up, my back's killing me!" Rowanoak roared out in mock agony.

Ballaw did an elegant bow in the badger's direction. "Do not worry, madam. Your face has been killing me for years, let alone your back. Keep quite still now. Malcolm, are you ready?"