The Legend Of Luke Part 3

"Gurr, no uz won't. Lookit, we'm be saved!"

In the curve of the streambend a big old crack willow, which had collapsed into the water from the crumbling bank, lay half in, half out of the flow, swaying gently.

Tripping and stumbling wildly, Dinny and Trimp waded through the eddying swirls, coughing and gasping, the foodpacks they were carrying hampering them greatly. However, they made it over to the tree and hauled themselves on to its bushy top. Their added weight did the trick. There was a tearing of the last few roots as the willow upended and slid off into the stream.

Martin and Gonff were both slinging stones now, dodging the long thin throwing spears which the Flitchaye flung at them. The little squirrel Chugger clung to Martin's back, yelling hoa.r.s.ely, "Fro' lotsa stones, don't lerra Fish eyes eat Chugga!"

The Warrior looked to Gonff for his sword. It was evident that before long they would be battling paw to paw with the vermin in a life or death struggle.

"Hurr, 'urry an' jump on ee boat naow, mates!"

Dinny and Trimp had paddled the tree close up behind them, using long leafy branches they had broken from the willow. Martin pushed Gonff onto the makes.h.i.+ft vessel and was about to pull himself aboard when a snarling Flitchaye grabbed his paw. For a moment the Warrior was helpless, clinging with one paw to the tree while being held by the vermin. Chugger scrambled up onto Martin's shoulder. Leaning over, he bit deep into the vermin's paw. An agonized scream ripped from the weasel's mouth as he let go of Martin's paw. Without a backward glance, Martin heaved both himself and Chugger onto the willow trunk.

"Trimp, look after the little 'un. Gonff, you and I'll paddle. Dinny, get your sling and give those sc.u.m what for!"

Trimp felt the current pull strongly at the tree, then they were whipped away downstream, with Martin and Gonff paddling nonstop. Wedging little Chugger in the sprouting branches up front, she went to a.s.sist Dinny. The mole was roaring gruffly as he whirled his sling and flung rocks with deadly accuracy.

"Goo burr, oi'll give ee billoh, you'm choild-eatin' villyuns. Yurr be a gurt supper o' stones for ee!"

So fierce were the volleys of rock and round pebble with which Dinny and Trimp peppered the Flitchaye that the vermin waded for the banks, unable to keep balance and throw their spears in the deepening water. Martin chanced a backward glance at their molefriend, and winked at Gonff.

"Look at old Din there, slinging away like a good 'un!"

Watching admiringly, the Mousethief saw one of Dinny's rocks take a Flitchaye squarely between both ears, toppling him from the bank into the water.

"Aye, matey, that mole's enjoyin' himself all right!"

Dusk fell while the travelers made their way downstream, still hara.s.sed by Flitchaye foes running along both sides of the bank. Martin peered ahead into the darkness and bit his lip grimly at what he saw.

"Bad luck for us ahead. The stream is dammed right across!"

Trimp gave a cry of dismay. "Look, some Flitchaye must've run ahead. I can see the shapes of 'em, waiting on the dam top for us!"

Sure enough, there were several creatures moving about on the dam, shrouded by the enclosing gloom. Dinny groaned.

"Hurr, us'n's be en real trouble naow!"

A hearty voice, quite unlike the Flitchaye, rang out from the dam as shadowy shapes dashed back and forth.

"Whupperyhoooo, cullies, I see Flitchayes. Whuppery-hooooo!"

Gonff began jumping up and down with joy. Cupping both paws around his mouth, he yelled to the creatures on the dam.

"Garraway Bullow, ye ole dogswamper, 'tis me, the Mousethief!"

A figure hurled itself from the damtop, cut the water neatly and came swimming at them with the speed of an attacking pike. Chugger nearly fell from his perch with surprise as a large, powerful otter bounded onto the willow as if she had been propelled from the water on a giant spring. Gonff threw himself upon the otter and wrestled her the length of the trunk, both of them laughing and shouting.

"Well frazzle a frog, you ole Majesty, good to see yer!"

"Haharr, Gonffo me ole tatercake, you got a belly on ye like a poisoned plant louse! What brings ye to my neck o' the country, cullie?"

"Yah, we didn't wanna come, 'cept that there's more'n twoscore Flitchaye tryin' to slay an' eat us, mate!"

Garraway Bullow tossed Gonff aside like a leaf and stood up. She looked Martin up and down, shaking his paw firmly.

"'Strewth, I wager you'd account for a few vermin before they brought ye down, with a sword like that. No matter, cullie, you leave the filthy Flitchaye to my fighters!" Placing a paw to her mouth, she gave a loud ear-piercing whistle, then called to the otters on the dam.

"Whupperyhoooo! Tis Flitchayes all right. Go an' get 'em afore they run off. Nought like a Flitchaye hide t'make cloaks for our liddle 'uns, an' winter's on'y two seasons off!"

Otters materialized from everywhere, big warlike beasts, tattooed from ear to tail and armed with double-tipped javelins. Whooping and bellowing, they took off after the weasels, who turned and fled in terror. The tree nosed gently into the dam as Gonff was making introductions.

"That there's Dinny Foremole, the pretty hogmaid's called Trimp, an' the serious-lookin' sword carrier, who ain't nearly so pretty as me, is Martin the Warrior, my matey. Friends, I want ye to meet Garraway Bullow, Queen of all the Nortthe Northern Otter River Tribes!"

Garraway helped them on to the dam, then she hauled the willow in sideways and lashed it to the timber and mud structure, remarking, "No sense in wastin' good wood'twill strengthen our dam. Come on, Gonffo, an' bring yore mateys, too. Seein' as you ain't been ate by Flitchayes, you must be 'ungry, right?"

Gonff laughed impudently at the Otterqueen. "D'ye ever recall a day when I wasn't hungry? I could eat a boiled otter right now, but I ain't got the time to cook ye, burly Bullow, so lead us t'the vittles!"

"Hoi, worra you fink, I'm a likkle flower growin' on dis tree? Worrabout Chugger?"

Trimp rescued the tiny squirrel from the branches, where he had been taking a short nap. He waved at Garraway Bullow.

" 'Lo, my name be Chugger, I 'ungry too!"

The Otterqueen swung him up onto her brawny shoulder. "Haharrharr, you ain't back'ard in comin' forward, are ye, master Chugg? Well, I reckon you don't eat much, so we'll find a smidgen o' vittles for ye. Though I don't know rightly where yore from, or if'n our vittles'd suit ye, matey. How'd you get caught by the Flitchaye?"

The little fellow shrugged. "I live inna woods wiv Granny. One day she go 'sleep. Chugger shake'n'shake Granny, but she not wake up. So I on me own, 'til Fish eyes catcher me. But Martin, Trimp'n'Gonffo be's Chugger's friends now. You be my friend, too?"

Garraway Bullow wiped something from her eye with the back of a paw. "I'd like t'meet the beast who says I ain't yore friend, Chugger mate!"

Chapter 5.

The otter den, or holt, consisted of a s.p.a.cious cavern, dug into the bank, directly under where a ma.s.sive ancient beech tree grew. Thick gnarled beech roots, crisscrossing in all directions, formed a ceiling, wallbeams, and in places long stout seats. It was lit by a great fire in a stonebuilt hearth and mantel, with ovens on both sides and cauldrons suspended over the flames by iron trivets. Otters were everywhere, though mainly babes and oldbeasts, since the mature males and females were out chasing Flitchayes. One wrinkled old male twitched his nose at Garraway, putting aside a wooden spoon he was carving.

"Why didn't ye tell me there was Flitchayes abroad? I'd 'ave gotten me javelins an' gone out with the crew. Young snipfur, y'are, never tell me nothin'!"

The Otterqueen inspected his work approvingly. "That's a fine spoon, Daddo. You put paid to more vermin than anybeast in yore young seasons. Better f'you to take things easy an' whittle nice spoons. We need more spoons."

The oldster sighed and resumed his carving. "Yore tellin' me, daughter. 'Tis those Kitts. They think spoons is boats, go out a-sailin' 'em an' lose 'em, they do." The little otters, known as Kitts, were anxiously watching an old otterwife putting out spoons on the table for supper. She waggled a paw at them.

"I'll be countin' these spoons after, an' woe betide you Kitts if'n there's a single one gone astray!"

Gonff sniffed at one of the cauldrons appreciatively. "Mmm, Bubblin' Bobbs if I ain't mistaken!"

Trimp allowed the delicious aroma to wreath her face. "Smells marvelous, Gonff. What are Bubblin' Bobbs?"

The Mousethief managed to hook a sip on his knife edge before dodging a swipe from the big fat cook. "Well, first you put on a soup of chopped leeks, parsley an' shredded white turnips, with loads o' secret otter herbs. Then you get a paste made from cornflour, rolled oats an' carrot juice, roll it into dumplin's an' press a good fat watershrimp into the middle of each one. Fry 'em crispy in corn oil, then chuck 'em in the soup. At first they sink, but when the soup starts a-bubblin', the dumplin's bob to the top. That's why otters call it Bubblin' Bobbs. Come on, let's find a seat, Trimp. Supper looks about ready!"

Before the meal started, Daddo laid aside his carving and plucked a few chords with his tail on a flat round instrument, which made a banjo-like sound. He called to Garraway.

"C'mon, daughter, give us yore song afore the rest gits back."

Queen Garraway fluttered her eyelashes demurely and launched into a ballad with a voice that shook the very rafters.

"I'm bound to sing this song, Though I shouldn't really ought, I'm Queen of all these otters yet, They call me Queen of Nort?

Yes Queen of Nort!

My goodness who'd have thought, One day I'd be a Majesty, Or something of that sort, But all the otters that I see, Must bow and wave their tails to me, Whilst I just nod back graciously, I'm Queen of Nort!

Good Queen of Nort, My northern otter tribe, Live all along the riverbanks, And beat their foes with tails like planks, I rule them wisely and give thanks, I'm Queen of Nort!

There's nought I'd rather be, I say to myself constantly, Your Majesty is really me, And don't I look like royalty, I'm Quee-ee-ee-ee-heeeeen of Nort!

N ... O ... R ... T, may I rule long and graciously!" ... O ... R ... T, may I rule long and graciously!"

Queen Garraway Bullow bowed modestly as the listeners applauded, clipping the ear of a Kitt who was stuffing a spoon in his ap.r.o.n pocket and rapping the paw of another who was making rude gestures at her elders. Suddenly the pre-supper calm was disrupted, as bounding and hooting the fighting otters returned, hungry as hunters and flushed with victory. Trimp found herself sandwiched between two husky females, who jostled and joked.

"Ahoy there, mate, budge over a bit, will ye!"

"Yah, go an' budge yoreself, barrelbeam!"

Eventually, after much shoving and hustling, every-beast was seated, and a big rough-looking one-eared male bellowed, "Whupperyhoo! Wheel in the vittles hard'n'fast there!"

Queen Garraway threw him a frosty glance. "Not afore you've made yore report, Cap'n Barrool!"

Barrool flicked his powerful tail and winked at her. "Oh, that! Well, there ain't no more babe-eatin' wicked Flitchayes plunderin' the land no more, we slew 'em all!"

Daddo eyed him doubtfully. "How d'y'know they're all slain?"

One of the big females called out, " 'Cos we asked 'em real nice, an' any who said they wasn't got fixed up good'n'quick!"

This brought roars of laughter from the fighters. Trimp shook her head sadly, remarking to the female next to her, "How can you joke about killing other creatures?"

The otter's face became severe as she replied, "If you'd seen wot Flitchayes have done to old 'uns an' Kitts when they raided here in bygone seasons, you'd unnerstand, missie. Besides, the crew's only jestin' 'cos they all came back alive an' un'urt. This time we were lucky. Those sc.u.m didn't 'ave time to sneak up on us with their smoulderin' herbs an' knock us out, so they 'ad t'fight paw to paw, see."

The Bubbling Bobbs soup was delicious, as was the riverbank salad, arrowroot scones with honey, hotroot celery cream dip and dandelion cordial. Martin sat next to the Queen, explaining where the four were traveling to. Garraway was very helpful.

"Northern sh.o.r.es, eh? You'd be best to go by water, Martin."

"Hmm, maybe so, but you've dammed the stream and we've lost our willowit's reinforcing your dam, remember?"

Garraway brushed aside his objections cheerfully. "We only dammed the stream to make a liddle waterfall an' a good slide for the Kitts. Another stream cuts in below the falls. We'll lend you a raft. It'll be easy, matey. The river runs straight west t'the sea sh.o.r.es, an' from there you only have t'head north along the coastline, right, Gonff?"

The Mousethief slurped the soup from his bowl. "Right, marm, an' thankee kindly for yore 'elp'n'hospitality!"

Garraway whacked him playfully with her tail. "Lissen, Gonff, you don't get off with it that easy. Come on, out with that flute of yours an' give us a jig. Er, 'Tails in the Stream'? Aye, that's wot it was called!"

Gonff pulled out his flute and returned the whack, grinning. "Yore a wicked ole Queen, forcin' pore travelers t'sing for their supper. Right, here goes. 'Tails in the Stream'!"

At the first merry trills of the flute every otter in the holt was up and jigging wildly. Martin, Trimp and Dinny had to climb to a high root perch to avoid the flailing tails and whirling limbs. They sat clapping their paws in time to the furious pace. Chugger was down on the floor with a gang of Kitts, linking tails as they whooped and kicked up footpaws, speeding around in a milling circle. Even the oldsters danced vigorously. Every now and then the floor would reverberate as otters thumped their tails on it in unison as they sang.

"Tails in the stream, mates, tails in the stream, No time t'sit around the bank an' dream, Is it a pike perch roach or a bream?

No, 'tis an otter with his tail in the stream!

Whupperyhoo, mates whupperyhoo, Clouds are white an' the sky is blue, Rap with y'tail an' stamp that paw, Bow to y'partner an' around once more!

Bread'n'honey'n'cakes'n'cream, Supper's in the oven an' tails in the stream!"

Gonff tootled faster and faster, and the dance speeded up until the entire place was a blur of whirling fur and thumping tails, finis.h.i.+ng finally in a glorious collapse of giggling, bellowing otters. Gonff danced nimbly around them, waving his flute and chuckling.

"Hahaha, c'mon now, you idle lot, up on y'paws. I'm goin' to play 'Riverdogs Ramble Round'!"

Panting and blowing, Queen Garraway extricated herself from the jumble, waving her paws. "Mercy, Gonffo, ye picklenosed rogue, you'll have us danced out of our skins!"

Gonff helped her to a seat. "Right then, ole Majesty, sit an' rest those ancient paws. Everybeast sit now, but leave a s.p.a.ce in the center. Hi there, Martin, get down here an' show 'em the Battleblade Dance. C'mon, matey, don't be shy!"

Reluctantly Martin clambered down and unsheathed his sword. "Gonff, I'm sure n.o.beast wants to see that old thing!"

The Mousethief appealed to the otters. "'Course you do, mates, don't you?"

Martin sighed. By the furious applause that followed his friend's remark, it was obvious they wanted to see him perform. Trimp sat Chugger on her lap, settling down to watch Redwall's champion, while Gonff and Dinny set the stage. A big red apple was placed on an oaken stump stool, and Dinny sat on the floor, an upturned cooking pot in front of him. When he began tapping it with his digging claws, it gave out a sound like raindrops. .h.i.tting a thin slate roof. Tock tokkatokka tock tokka tokka!

The Mousethief sat beside his molefriend. Taking two mushrooms, he stood one on Dinny's head and the other on his own, then he held his paws straight in front of him, a dandelion held firmly in either one. Gonff signaled Martin with a wink. What Trimp witnessed then she could scarce believe, but it convinced the hogmaid that n.o.beast living could wield a sword like Martin the Warrior.

Martin began moving slowly at first to Dinny's beat, whirling his blade in all directions. Underpaw and over-paw, around both shoulders and overhead, the sword moved in a slow flas.h.i.+ng pattern, humming and whirring, with fireglow playing along its blade. Everybeast stared in silent fascination at the wonderful display. Martin skiphopped, his keen blade tip missing both footpaws by a fraction, then he gave a piercing yell.

"Redwaaaaaaall!"

Dinny speeded up his rhythm, with Martin keeping perfect time, eyes half closed in concentration. Redwall's great sword became a blur of liquid light, traveling so fast that it left patterns upon the air, figures of eight, circles, crescents, even shapes like flowers.

Tocktokkatokkatocktokkatokkatocktokkatokka . ..

Faster and faster the mole's digging claws rapped on the upturned copper pot. Otters held their breath as the perilous blade sang within a whisker of their faces. Trimp nearly bit through her lip at what happened next. Martin gave a wild animal roar and whirled upon his two friends, the blade striking down on their heads. Once! Twice! Both mushrooms fell apart sliced from cap to base. Like a living thing, the sword hummed and flicked round Gonff's paws, lopping off the dandelion heads so that they curled lazily up in twin arcs, landing neatly 'twixt the cut mushrooms on Gonff and Dinny's heads. With a leap and a bound, Martin was at the big red apple, his lethal blade appearing to be six swords at once, chopping like lightning at the apple. Never once was the blade edge heard to strike the oaken stump, on which twelve perfect apple slices lay. Sweeping the flat blade to and fro, the Warrior sent the slices spinning into the watchers' laps. Tossing the sword in the air so that it turned on its own length, Martin took a half pace backward. With an audible thud the sword came down point first to stand quivering in the floor. Martin clasped both paws on the pommel-stoned hilt and bowed.

The Nort otters went wild. They cheered and danced around Martin and his two friends, lifting them shoulder high and carrying them round the cave. Chugger was already up with his pals, the Kitts, stuffing apple slices in their mouths as they cast about for dandelions, mushrooms and swordlike sticks to repeat the Warrior's feat. Queen Garraway Bullow gripped Martin's paw tight, pumping it up and down fiercely.

"Never seen aught like that on land or water, matey. Hoho! Thought you was goin' to make two moles out o' Dinny an' leave ole Gonffo pawless for a moment back there. You'll have t'show me how t'do it, Martin. Great thunder, matey, wot I wouldn't give for a sword like that'n o' yours!"

When the Warrior could get a word in edgewise, he shook his head ruefully at the crowd of admiring otters.

"Please, 'twas only a fancy exercise in sword control I thought up to relieve the boredom of training. Normally I wouldn't let anybeast see me do it, but I made the mistake of performing it once at a Redwall feast and Gonff's been trying to talk me into doing it again ever since."