Actors and Searchers

16

Evening shadows lengthened as the hot day drew to a close. The shore lay warm and dusty beneath the last rays of daylight. Fortress Marshank's gates were thrown open wide. Torches and seacoal fires illuminated the courtyard as the corsair crew mingled with the Tyrant's horde. An alfresco supper had been laid for the two leaders and their aides. A temporary jollity prevailed in the light of the promised entertainment, though Badrang and Clogg still regarded each other suspiciously.

The Tyrant stoat nibbled a leg of roast gull, sipping daintily from a beaker of greengage cordial as he smiled patronizingly at the corsair Cap'n. Tramun Clogg sniffed at a pickled mackerel. With a defiant grimace he dunked it thoroughly in Badrang's cordial bowl and wolfed it down in one mouthful. Choking and coughing, he grabbed a halfempty puncheon of kelp beer, tilting it to his mouth and drinking deeply as it splashed widespread down his braids on to the tabletop. With a loud belch and a villainous grin, he slammed the puncheon back on the table.

"Harr, that's better! Ho lookit, 'ere comes me mate Tibbar an' 'is pals!"

Badrang eyed the approaching troupe scathingly "Hmm, so this is the entertainment we've been waiting for?"

Clogg half drew his cutlass, thrusting his face close to Badrang. "Aye, so 'tis, an' they're friends of me good matey Tibbar, so don't you fergit it."

Badrang turned his head, avoiding Clogg's fishladen breath. He had dropped his corsair accent now that he held the upper paw. "Forget it? How could I? You've done nothing but gabble on about it all day."

Clogg was offended by the Tyrant's manner. He squinted fiercely at him. "That weren't gabblin', matey, 'twere a warnin'. Don't mess with those creatures, an' get any thoughts o' slavetakin' outta yer 'ead, Badrang. It's double bad luck to any who tries to 'arm me magic friends, see!"

Brome felt himself freeze beneath the huge frog mask that enveloped his head. The sight of Badrang and Marshank caused panic in his mind.

Rowanoak pushed him gently from behind. "Hurry along now, young froggy. Hop to it!"

Remembering that he was invisible beneath his disguise gave Brome the confidence he needed. Giving a loud croak, he hopskipped into the center of the courtyard and began setting up the scenery from the cart with the other Rosehip troupers. Felldoh was concealed beneath a big comical fox outfit. The tongue wobbled and the eyes rolled every time he moved his head. Beneath the mask, Felldoh peered wildly around, seeing each familiar hated face: Badrang, Gurrad, Hisk. But no sign of his father Barkjon.

Ballaw was in his element. The show, mixed with the ever present danger of appearing before enemies, made his heart beat fast with excitement. Dressed in the flowing costume of Tibbar the magic rabbit, he cartwheeled boldly up to the leaders' table and tweaked Clogg's plaited beard.

"Cloggo, me old crab carcass, me jolly old wavedog companion, top o' the evenin' to you, wot wot?"

Tramun laughed uncontrollably, highly amused at his new friend's antics. Ballaw produced two spoons from Clogg's beard and began clacking them rhythmically together by bouncing both spoons off the corsair stoat's vast stomach.

"When's a stoat not a stoat?

When he wears clogs an' a velvet coat!

When's a stoat an old seadog?

When he's whiskery friskery attery biskery Cap'n

Tramun Clogg!"

"Whoa hoho harrharrharr! Ain't 'e a caution, haharrharr!" Clogg thumped Badrang heartily upon the back. The Tyrant managed to put his beaker down before cordial spilled on his polished breastplate. He glared at Clogg before turning to Ballaw.

"So you're the magic rabbit. Well, let's see some magic."

Ballaw took Badrang's beaker and emptied it at a single gulp. Before the Tyrant could protest, he refilled the beaker from a nearby flagon and tossed the contents of it into Badrang's face. The Tyrant gave a gasp of surprise and threw up his paws, only to find that the beaker showered him not with drink but with dead leaves. Clogg fell off his chair laughing.

"See, I told yer, that's me ole matey Tibbar the magic rabbit! Haharrhohoho! Make more magic, Tibbar."

Ballaw bowed elegantly as he leaped down from the table. "Lord Badrang, what d'you wish, old chap a play, or more magic?"

Badrang refilled his empty beaker, checking to see that it was greengage cordial, and not dead leaves. "I'll go along with friend Clogg here. Make more magic." Ballaw extended his paw dramatically.

"Bring forth the deadly dagger of death!"

Gauchee and Kastern came forward, bearing between them a red silk cushion. On it lay a long dagger which glittered wickedly in the firelight. Rowanoak chanted in the background,

"From the deepest darkest dungeons,

'Neath the mountains of the moon,

Comes the dreadful dagger of death,

To bring a creature to sad doom!"

Rowanoak then came forward, dragging Celandine. The squirrelmaid threw a paw to her brow, protesting theatrically,

"No no, no no! Not I, Not I.

One so young and pretty as me

Is far too fair to die!"

Ballaw took the dagger. Producing an apple from an astounded searat's ear, he sliced it in quarters with the glittering blade, smiling wickedly as he called to the assembled vermin,

"See how sharp an' murderous is me blade.

Who would like to see me kill the maid?"

Immediately, there was a silence. Celandine looked so tearfully beautiful nobeast made a sound to condemn her. Except Badrang.

"Run her through, rabbit, and be done with it!"

Celandine shrieked and strove to get away as Rowanoak held her tightly, helpless before Ballaw. The hare held the dagger high.

"Badrang, your name is feared throughout the land.

My Lord, I kill this maid at your command!"

He struck at Celandine. She screamed.

"Aaaaiiiieeeeeee!"

The blade appeared to bury itself full length in the squirrelmaid's body, though it had collapsed secretly back into the dagger's handle. Celandine took the handle in both paws as Ballaw let it go. She looked as though she were trying to pull it out of her, though she was really pressing it in. Ballaw turned, his face a mask of horror, paws quivering as he held them to his face.

"Alas no more I'll laugh or sing.

I've murdered her, the pretty little thing!"

Celandine staggered about, moaning pitifully.

"Nor more I'll see the dawning o'er the trees,

Nor see the golden sunlight in the sky,

The seasons change, the birds, the flow'rs, the bees.

Alack a day, poor me who has to die!"

Buckler stood close to her, banging on a small drum as he muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Coom on, miz, daunt 'ee make a banquet o' it. 'Urry oup an' die!"

With a final heartrending sob, Celandine flopped gracefully into Rowanoak's paws and died, still clutching the dagger to her.

As Rowanoak bore the squirrelmaid's limp form around, some of the corsairs began muttering.

"Shame, she were a pretty liddle beast."

"Aye, mate. That rabbit might be magic, but 'e's fair 'eartless!"

Cap'n Clogg took a huge draught of kelp beer. "Harr, Tibbar, matey What'd you want ter croak 'er for? The show's spoiled now. You gone an' ruined a good night's entertainment!"

Ballaw twirled his magic rabbit cloak. "There, my good friends, speaks a stoat with a heart o' gold; me old companion Cloggo. Just for you, I'll bring her back to life."

Rowanoak laid Celandine on the ground. Ballaw knelt over her, chanting.

"Here lies a young maid who's been killed.

With my own paw I thrust the knife.

Without a drop of her blood spilled.

See, I bring her back to life.

Hocus pocus dumbeldum dreary, wackalup one two

three four five,

Gawrum pawrum cockalorum, maid rise up and

come alive!"

He took hold of the dagger and made a great show of pulling it out of Celandine, heaving and grunting until at last it stood free and shining as he waved it in the air.

The young squirrelmaid sat up, rubbed her eyes and smiled prettily as she stretched. "Where am I? I must have fallen asleep!"

There was great cheering and applause for the marvellous trick. Ballaw swiftly collapsed the dagger back into its handle, stowed it beneath his cloak and brought forth an identical one. This, however, was no trick dagger. The hare stuck it in the tabletop between Clogg and Badrang for their inspection.

Tramun tested the weapon, slamming its point down hard into the table several times. "Tibbar, matey, yore the magickest rabbit I ever clapped eyes on!"

Badrang never bothered testing the knife. He sat back, chin on paw. "Very good, rabbit. Can you do any more tricks?"

Ballaw pointed at Felldoh in his ridiculous outfit.

"More tricks, you say? Attend me here,

My magic is no trick.

Yon fox, I'll make him disappear,

With a wave of my magic stick!"

Rowanoak whispered in Felldoh's ear, "Now is the chance to free your father. Try to remember what you were told. You won't get a second opportunity. Good luck."

The badger donned a massive black cloak as Buckler and Trefoil unloaded a box from the cart. Ballaw clapped Felldoh on the shoulder, haranguing him loudly as the stage was set.

"Now then, young fellah, you cunning fox,

How'd you like to disappear?

Just place yourself inside yon box,

And like a flash you're out of here!"

Felldoh backed off, his head flopping comically as he pleaded,

"What? Vanish me, sir Tibbar, no,

To what strange place would I then go?

Under the sea, or maybe up there,

To regions of the nether air.

I pray you, sir, please let me be.

Magic Tibbar, don't vanish me!"

Ballaw turned to the crowd. They were laughing at the comical fox's plight. Assisted by the rest of the company, he got a chant going that was soon picked up by everybeast.

"Where's the best place for the fox?

Locked up tight inside the box!"

The entire company leaped upon Felldoh and dragged him yelling to the box. There was utter confusion as they thrust him in and he sprang out again. In, out, in, out he went, with the delighted hordes of vermin leaping about chanting louder and louder,

"Where's the best place for the fox?

Locked up tight inside the box!"

Ballaw ran to the fire shouting madly, "In! In! Get him in, I say!"

He extended both paws to the fire.

Whoosh!

A great smoky gouting column of flame lit up the night. Red, green and brightest blue. There was a yell of alarm as creatures fell back, rubbing at their eyes in the blinding light.

Felldoh concealed himself beneath Rowanoak's huge black cloak. She moved swiftly away to the edge of the firelight and shook the brave squirrel free from the enveloping garment. Felldoh rolled deep into the shadows, flattening himself against the wall as he made his way to the slave compound. Buckler beat furiously on his small drum, secretly kicking away at the box so that it moved and shook. Trefoil stood at his side, her lips scarcely moving as she called out in a loud imploring tone,

"O pity, gentle creatures, lack a day.

Don't leave a poor fox here all locked away!"

Clogg nudged Badrang roughly. "Hoho that's settled the fox's 'ash. Tibbar's got 'im stowed tight in that there box!"

Kastern and Celandine paraded round, holding up a variety of big oldfashioned locks complete with keys and many lengths of tough seakelp rope.

"Who will lock the fox up tight?"

"Who will bind the box up right?"

There was no shortage of volunteers. Searats and corsairs mingled with members of the Tyrant's horde as they crowded round the box. Some proudly showed their skills in rope knotting, while others secured the locks through the box's metal eyelets.

Ballaw strutted round the secured box, nodding with satisfaction.

"Lashed stoutly by good seafaring beasts,

By honest soldiers locked firm,

No creature could possibly get out of there.

Not even the smallest worm."

Badrang plucked the long dagger from where it stood quivering in the table. He strode across to the box, his lip curling as he addressed Ballaw.

"Has the fox disappeared from inside the box now?"

Ballaw's long ears twitched. He held up a cautionary paw. "Wait, Sire. Let me weave the spell."

He circled the box, gesturing and leaping.

"Now you vanish, unfortunate one.

A wave of my wand and you are gone.

Others may search and seek in vain,

But you will never be seen again!"

By sleight of paw, Ballaw produced a hazel twig. He tapped the box sharply, once, twice, thrice, calling out,

"Ongum bongum wollagum woe,

Vanish, disappear, dematerialize. Go!"

Turning to Badrang, he panted in mock exhaustion and bowed. "He is gone, m'lord. The box is empty. Shall I show you?"

The Tyrant smiled evilly, shaking his head. "No. Leave the box secured. But if the fox is really gone, I'm sure you won't mind me doing this!"

Darting forward, Badrang slammed the dagger down with furious energy straight through the box lid, up to its hilt. There was a horrified gasp from the onlookers, followed by a mad roar from Cap'n Tramun Clogg as he charged out, cutlass upraised.

"Murderer! I warned ye, Badrang, none of these magic beasts was to be harmed. You treacherous scum!"

Ballaw acted swiftly. Tripping Clogg, he grabbed the cutlass and ran the box through with it, using both paws. Turning, he helped the pirate stoat up and dusted him off.

"Nay nay, Cap'n. If I say the fox is vanished, then you can be sure he's gone. Hi there, you, Gurrad! D'you fancy throwin' your spear at the box? Anybeast, come on, have a go!"

There was silence for a moment, then Gurrad threw his spear. The heavy weapon crashed through the box, protruding from the other side. It was like a signal. Immediately, daggers, spears, arrows and even swords flew through the air. In seconds the box resembled a pincushion. When the missiles had stopped, Ballaw gave the box a mighty kick with his long hindpaws. It fell apart, showing everybeast that the fox had really vanished.

The hare spread his paws wide, grinning. "You see, when Tibbar the magic rabbit performs magic, it is real!"

Amid the hearty applause that followed, Druwp's voice squealed out from the direction of the stockade.

"The slaves are escaping. Help, come quick, they're escaping!"

17

The four friends had trekked through the scrub woodlands all afternoon, their shadows lengthening in front of them heralding the onset of evening. It had been a still, hot day, and the going was slow in the heat. Rose wiped her brow as she caught up with Pallum. Martin had been clearing ahead with his shrew sword.

"Phew, it'll get a little cooler as night falls, but then we'll lose our frontshadows in the dark."

They waited as Grumm caught up with them. The mole blinked as he wiped the moist tip of his nose. "Hurr, be cooler unnerground, us'ns agoen f make camp soon, Marthen?"

"Good idea, Grumm. We deserve a rest. Where d'you suggest we camp?"

"Burr, oi dunno. Wot say 'ee, Miz Roser?"

The mousemaid stood on tippaw looking around. "Straight ahead, I'd say. It looks less scrubby and the trees are taller, like a proper forest. Let's camp by that old dead oak."

A slow smile spread across Pallum's face. "Do you mean that old dead oak with the three tops ...?"

Rose clapped her paws together as she recited the lines. " Follow your frontshadow, do not stop, till you reach the one with dead three top . Hahah, that's it, an old dead threetopped oak. Come on!"

They lay in a mossy hollow at the base of the long dead forest giant, eating supper and looking up at the night sky Above the woody canopy countless stars bejewelled the dark velvet expanse, and a silent fierytailed comet flashed across the peaceful scene. Rose picked at a small carrot and turnip farl as she passed the canteen of mint and lavender cordial to Martin.

"Well, we found the dead three top easy enough. Tomorrow we'll look for the twin paths. Oh, I do hope Brome and Felldoh are all right. I'd hate to think of us lying here eating if they needed our help."

Martin took a sip from the canteen. "Trust Polleekin's words, Rose. There's nothing else we can do. Brome is young, but Felldoh will look after himhe's a warrior."

The mousemaid looked at the short shrew sword sticking in the ground close to Martin's paw where he could reach it quickly.

"What's it like, being a warrior?"

"I don't know really," Martin shrugged. "I won't consider myself a warrior until the day I take my father's sword back from Badrang."

Rose tossed a piece of her bread. It bounced off Martin's nose. "Silly, of course you're a warrior. Even Polleekin saw that. I know you're a warrior because you protect others. Look at the way you've helped me and Grumm, and Pallum. And the way you dealt with that big seabird. Nobeast but a warrior could have done that."

Gentle snoring noises came from the mole and the hedgehog.

Martin chuckled. "No good asking them, they're sound asleep like I should be. Us warriors need lots of sleep, you know. Good night, Rose."

Long after Martin had gone to sleep, Rose lay awake thinking of her home in Noonvale.

"Noonvale." She said the name in a whisper to the starstrewn night.

To her it meant peace, happiness and security, filled as it was with family and friends. Noonvale, the secret place of the ancient northeastern forest. The young mousemaid closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, far from home. Noonvale.

Dawn arrived soft as a feather on air. Martin opened one eye and watched two ants trundling off with the tiny piece of bread that Rose had thrown at him. He lay still, thinking of Noonvale. He had talked with Rose the previous day. As they walked, she told him about her home, with Grumm adding the occasional comment.

The more Martin heard of the place the more he liked it. Maybe someday he could live there, with Rose and her family and Grumm and Pallum . ..

"Coom on, zurr Marthen. You'm agoen t' loi thurr all season?" Grumm prodded Martin with his little ladle. "Naow, wot'll 'ee 'ave fer breffist. Oi c'n make zoop."

Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes. "No soup, Grumm. We'll eat from the packs."

Martin stood and stretched. "Aye, best not light a fire in strange country."

Grumm wandered off, muttering to himself. "Burr, no foire. Oi do loiks moi zoop of a mornen, leastways oi'm not agoen wi'out fresh water. Oi'll go an' seek summ out."

Rose smiled as she dug apple turnovers out of her pack. "He's a proper old grump some mornings. Should've been called Grump instead of Grumm. Here, have one of these turnovers. He'll be back soon with fresh water. That's another thing he insists on most mornings. Even in winter, he'll sit out sucking icicles in the snow."

Pallum, Martin and Rose broke their fast with apple turnovers, some candied hazel and chestnuts and the remains of the cordial from the canteen. They sat enjoying the quiet woodland as the sun warmed the morning. Pallum kept some food out for Grumm as he repacked their provisions.

Rose stood up, looking around anxiously. "Where has that mole got to? He only went for water. I'll give him a shout..."

"No, don't raise your voice, Rose. If Grumm can hear it then so can others. Come on, we'll take a quiet walk and look for him."

Martin could see that Rose was concerned for her friend. She kept shaking her head and murmuring under her breath, "He's never usually gone this long. Grumm, silly beast, where are you?"

They were not far into the tall trees when Martin stopped. Pointing ahead, he leaned close and whispered, " See the twin paths, beware of one Sweet as the spreading atop of a scone . There they are, Rose. The twin paths. Look."

Two definite paths twisted and curved away through the tall treetrunks, one to the left, the other to the right.

"Maybe Grumm's gone down one, but which one?" Rose's voice sounded small in the huge silent forest.

"Neither, I 'ope. They both look pretty fearful. Maybe I best stay 'ere and wait in case Grumm shows up. You two can explore the paths. I'd only get in the way."

Rose could see that the hedgehog was afraid. She patted his prickles carefully. "Good idea, Pallum. Come on, Martin."

They ventured a short way along the path that ran to the right. It wound and curved but seemed safe enough. Martin shook his head. "Let's try the left path."

Creeping stealthily forward, they explored the left path. It seemed more tangled and overgrown than the other and oppressively hot. Again Martin halted. He made a gesture towards his ear, indicating that Rose should listen. The mousemaid heard it right away. It was a thick, heavy humming, like nothing she had ever heard. Straining her ears, she caught a low, frightened whimper.

"That's Grumm!"

"Aye, and it's coming from round that bend. You stay here, Rose." Martin drew his small sword.

"I'm coming with you. I couldn't stay here, Martin." Rose caught on to his paw.

"All right, but stay behind me and try not to make any noise."

They inched forward carefully. The humming grew heavier until it seemed to be part of the very air they breathed. There was an overpoweringly sweet smell everywhere. Martin brushed aside a wild dogrose and they rounded the bend.

It was a very strange scene that met their eyes.

Bees! There were literally millions of the insects. They swarmed on shrubs, bushes, trees and all over the ground. A fallen elm blocked the path completely, and gigantic hives stood everywhere along itold hives, new hives, halfbuilt hives and old broken ones. Honeycomb could be seen exposed in parts, thick, golden and waxseamed. Amber nectar dripped to the ground and onto the heavy fungus that grew around the fallen tree. With his back almost touching the trunk sat Grumm, the small ladle held against his nose so that he could breathe. Rose stared wideeyed. It was hard to distinguish Grumm from the bees that swarmed on him. They were all over his furry body, from footpaws to eartips, covering him completely and buzzing dangerously. Grumm had his eyes tight shut. Every once in while he would make a small frightened sound around the ladle that protected his nostrils.

"Sit still, Grumm," Rose said in a husky whisper. "Don't cry, there's a good mole. Martin and I are here now."

"Hurrmm, Miz Roser." Grumm's voice sounded muffled as he talked around the ladle. "They'm trapped oi daown yurr. Ooch! They stingen oi, not all at oncet, moind, just when they feels loik 'avin' some fun with oi. Ooch!"

Rose kept her voice low. "I'm sorry you're being stung, Grumm, but sit still and we'll have you out of there soon."

Martin spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Rose, they've got us trapped now. There's as many behind us as there are in front, and they're blocking our way out. Ow! I've been stung on the footpaw and they're beginning to swarm on me. You can't fight bees with a sword. Owch!"

Rose looked at Martin then down at herself. "That's strange, not a single bee has landed on me. Look!" She held her paw forth. Not a single insect tried to land on it.

Martin blinked in surprise. "How d'you do it... ? Owch!"

Realization dawned on Rose suddenly. "Martin, Grumm, don't speak, don't say a single word. I've noticed that every time you speak you get stung. Now, the bees aren't stinging me, so it must be because they like the sound of my voice. I've got an idea. Listen, I'm going to start singing. If they like my voice when I speak, they're sure to like it if I sing gently. As soon as you feel that it's safe, then take my paws and we'll walk out of here, or at least give it a try. Well, here goes. Let me sing a bit first."

Martin and Grumm remained still, like two statues covered by masses of slowly moving bees. Rose began her song.

"You will find me at Noonvale on the side of a hill

When the summer is peaceful and high,

There where streamlets meander the valley is still,

'Neath the blue of a calm cloudless sky ..."

Right away Martin noticed a difference in the behavior of the bees. The buzzing diminished to a low background hum and the insects that were crawling over him ceased their activities.

"It's working," he whispered urgently to Rose. "Keep singing. I'm going to take your paw. Grumm, can you hear me? Reach out for Rose's paw when she sings."

Rose continued, her voice like warm breeze on a soft night.

"Look for me at dawning when the earth is asleep.

Till each dewdrop is kissed by the day,

'Neath the rowan and alder a vigil I'll keep,

Every moment that you are away ..."

Rose stretched her paws forth. Feeling Martin and Grumm take them, she turned and began walking back down the path with a slow, measured pace. Martin and Grumm trod carefully alongside the mousemaid. She continued singing, and as they went the bees began dropping off and buzzing lazily back to their hives.

"The old earth gently turns as the seasons change

slowly.

All the flowers and leaves born to wane.

Hear my song o'er the lea, like the wind soft and

lowly.

Oh, please come back to Noonvale again."

Pallum was waiting anxiously at the entrance to the path. At the sight of his friends returning he did a small dance of joy, coupled with anxiety at the lumps and bumps raised by the bee stings.

"Haha! There you are, thank the seasons! Oh, look at you, Grumm, all covered in swellin's. What happened?"

The mole smiled at his worried friend. "Bo urr, that be anuther story, Pallum. Move asoide so us'ns can set daown an' rest us'ns' weary bodies, hurr?"

The three travellers slumped against a spreading sycamore. Martin shook his head in amazement, burying his short sword point down in the loam. "Thank you, Rose. That was marvellous. Who needs a sword to defend us? That's the second time you've won a victory with your voicefirst as a sea eagle, then as a singer. You know, the strange thing is that I hardly noticed the bees. All I could hear was your song. I could have listened to it for ever!"

Pallum made poultices of dockleaves, nightshade and mud. "Sit still now while I put these on your stings to cool them. Best thing in the world for stings. How's that?"

"Ooh, you don't know how good that feels," Martin sighed gratefully as the fire died from the stings under Pallum's ministrations. "All we need now is another song from Rose."

Grumm spat away a bee sting that he had nipped out with his teeth. "Ho yurss, Miz Roser be the noicest songer in all Noonvale. 'Er daddy an' oi watched many a time whoil she singen 'ee burds outen 'ee trees."

Rose was all afluster. She jumped up and shouldered her pack. "It was only an old Noonvale song. Every young creature there can sing it as well as me. Come on you two, or are you going to sit there all morning?"

The mousemaid set off down the path at a lively pace, with Martin and Grumm bringing up the rear as Pallum pulled stings from them.

"That's it, right there in the middle of my back. Ooh, that's better. Get that one on the side of Grumm's neck."

"Oochooch! Go easy, zurr 'edgepig. You'm wurser than 'ee liddle peskers as put yon stingers thurr!"

They made good progress that day, though the woodland grew high and gloomy as they traversed it. It was noontide, yet the sun could hardly be glimpsed through the high interwoven foliage canopy. Dim green light filtering down gave the path an eerie quality of unreality. Halting by a little brook, the four friends made a late lunch of applescones washed down with the cold sparkling water. When they had finished, Grumm and Pallum sat dabbling their footpaws in the brook, grunting and making small noises of happiness as the babbling water gurgled over their paws. Martin and Rose sat behind them, nudging each other and stifling silent giggles as they watched the pair enjoy their paddle.

"I see you. Beware!"

Quick as a flash, Martin leaped up, drawing his sword at the sound of a booming voice in the halflit forest. He held up a paw, cautioning his friends to silence. They waited a moment, then the voice echoed out a second time.

"Go back, small ones. Leave my path!"

"Who are you?" Martin shouted then, surprised at how the forest echoed and magnified his voice.

"I am the Mirdop." The spectral sound rumbled about the treetrunks. "I see all. None can pass me. Go back!"

"We mean no harm," Martin replied, keeping his voice friendly as possible. "We are only travellers trying to reach Noonvale!" Leaning aside he whispered quickly to Rose. "Keep him talking. I'll try and find out where he is!"

"Be still, all of you!" the voice rang out, hollow and angry. "For I am Mirdop, born in a storm at the night of winter's moon! I see all! I slay all!"

Placing her paws firmly together, Rose did a magnificent harsh grating voice which rang and echoed wildly.

"And I am Martin the Warrior. I have slain more than the hairs on your hide! I have defeated Amballa and Badrang. Let us pass!"

There was more silence, then the voice called threateningly, "One warrior is nought to a Mirdop. I will eat him up!"

Rose resorted to her own natural voice as she answered, "There is more than one warrior here, there are four! I am Rose, the deadliest slayer in Noonvale. I eat Mirdops for breakfast. What say you, Pallum the Mighty?"

Pallum swelled until his stickles separated and shrieked out, "Yahoooo! I am Pallum the Mighty. I carry a thousand swords! I too eat Mirdops, though generally as snacks! Stay clear of me and watch out for my friend Grumm the Growler!"

"What is a Grumm the Growler?" the mysterious Mirdop voice answered them. This time Rose thought she caught a note of hesitation in it.

The mole shuffled forward, brandishing his ladle. "Oi be Grumm the Growler, a gurt moighty beast! Oi makes zoop out o' Mirpods an' sangwiches from they tails, ho urr!"

"I care not who you be." The Mirdop's voice sounded definitely unsure now. "Go back or die. Nobeast passes the Mirdop!"

"Hurr, then they be allus a furst toime!"

"Stand aside or we'll go right over you!"

"Mirdop or no Mirdop, we're coming!"

"Stay back, keep away." The Mirdop voice sounded strained and frantic now. "I've fought foxes, battered badgers, whipped weasels, strangled stoats... Owooooaaahhheeeh!"

"Over here, friends. Hurry!" Martin's voice rang out loud and clear.

From somewhere up in front of them came a crashing and the most dreadful earsplitting screams and yells.

Rose grabbed a fallen branch and shook it fiercely "The Mirdop must have got Martin. Come on. Chaaaaarge!"

The three travellers rushed forward along the path to where the horrible noises rose to a deafening intensity.

18

Tullgrew and Keyla threw themselves upon Felldoh, hugging and patting the brave squirrel.

"Haha! Good to see your battered old face again, mate!"

"Aye, yore a sight for sore eyes all right friend!" Felldoh winked at them cheerily. Helped by Tullgrew and Keyla, Felldoh battered aside two logs from the compound wall. It was difficult to keep the joyous slaves silent and orderly. Barkjon and Hillgorse hurried them through, encouraging and advising quietly.

"You get through, marm. I'll pass you the young un." "Haha! We're free, Barkjon. Free as the air!" "Not quite. Keep your voice down and hurry please." "Hillgorse, can I take my bag of shells? They'll make good cups and platters. I've collected them for three seasons.

"Leave them, we may have to run for it. You'd only be slowed down lugging that lot along."

Felldoh and Keyla had taken the two logs from the palisade, laying them against the back of the fortress main wall to form an easy way to the top. They lifted and pushed the slaves up to where Tullgrew waited with a stout kelp rope. One at a time she swung them out over the top.

"Now I'm going to lower you down. Let go of the rope and jump as soon as you can. There's bedding mattresses down there to break your fall. Hurry now, we need the rope for the others."

In the midst of the bustle, Barkjon found time to grasp his son's paw. "Felldoh, I knew you wouldn't let us down. Where's Martin?"

The squirrel hugged his father quickly. "That's a story for another day. Come on, let's free these slaves, old bushtail!"

For the first time in many a long day Barkjon grinned happily. "Old bushtail yourself, whippersnapper. I'll wager you don't go over that wall faster than I do!"

It was as they were laughing together that Druwp shouted, "The slaves are escaping, help, come quick, they're escaping!"

Badrang kicked over the banquet table. Hauling out the sword that had once belonged to Martin, he laid about him with the flat of the blade.

"Get to the compound, quick! I knew something like this would happen. Come on, stir your stumps, you addlebrained scum. Move!"

The Tyrant's horde stumbled over each other, grabbing weapons as they rushed to do their master's command. Badrang dashed about like a madbeast, using the flat of his blade as a rod, smacking heads and paws with numbing force.

"Hurry, run! Are you deaf or stupid? Move, you mudworms!"

Tramun Clogg sat on the overturned table, still drinking and eating, a sly smile hovering on his greasy lips.

"Ho dearie me, the liddle slaves are all runnin' off. 'Ere, Gruzzle, d'you reckon it's 'cos they don't like it 'ere?"

The Tyrant cast a murderous glance at the corsair stoat. "This is all your fault, Cloggyou and your magic rabbit with his performing friends. They've got something to do with this, I'm certain of it! Well, aren't you going to help?"

Clogg slopped kelp beer down his whiskers as he drank. "They're yore slaves mate, you see to 'em. I'm only a pore 'onest wavebeast who's down on 'is luck."

Quivering with rage, Badrang pointed his sword at the corsair. "Don't worry, I will. But you look to those magic friends of yours and hold them here until I get back. I'm holding you personally responsible for them!"

The Tyrant dashed off after his horde.

Ballaw glanced uneasily at Rowanoak. "D'you hear that, old gel, looks like we're in for a spot of bother, wot? Plan number two I'd say, eh!"

Brome tugged at Buckler's tunic. "What's plan number two?"

"Hurr 'tis pretty simple, maister. When you'm be in trouble an' they audience doant loik 'ee no more, then us'ns run fer it loik billyoh!"

Rowanoak began singing softly to the Rambling Rosehip Players.

"I think we'll call it a day,

Back to the cart I say.

It's exit left without any pay. We'd be better off far a way!"

The company began sidling unobtrusively towards their cart.

Clogg staggered upright. Throwing his drink down, he began rugging to free the cutlass from his waist sash.

"Ahoy, Tibbar. 'Old 'ard there. Where d'you think yore off to?"

Completely unruffled, Ballaw made an elegant bow.

"Love to stay, old Cloggo old stoat, but you know how 'tis. We need our jolly old beauty sleep."

Tramun tipped the wink to Boggs, Crosstooth and Gruzzle. In a trice they had the pirate crew surrounding the players.

Clogg licked the blade of his cutlass and closed one eye. "An' all the time I thought you was me mateys. It ain't friendly like runnin' off so soon. 'Ow's about you doin' one more bit o' magic fer ole Tramun?"

Ballaw gave the stoat a large toothy grin and a wink. "Why certainly, me old wave walloper. One more piece of magic, just for you, comin' up right away. How'd you like to see me vanish the entire troupe, cart an' all, presto, just like that!"

"Vanish the 'ole crew of ye?"

"That's what I said, old sport."

"An' the cart too, an' all of this whilst yore surrounded?"

"That's the ticket, Cap'n!"

"Haharr, 'tis impossible. But you carry on, matey!"

Ballaw collected several hefty pieces of firewood and distributed them to the troupe. Meanwhile, Rowanoak harnessed herself to the cart shafts. The hare indicated by sweeping dramatic gestures that they all climb up on to the cart. When they had, he joined them.

"Laydeez an' gennelbeasts, watch closely! As you see, we are all holding a large magic wand each. That is, with the exception of my good friend the magic badger there. Now watch closely please, as my old uncle Flobbears used to say. The speed of the paw always deceives the eye, an' more often than not blackens it. Are you ready? One, three, two four, whatever. Chaaaaarge!"

The huge female badger threw all her weight and speed against the shafts, sending the cart forward like a runaway boulder on a mountainside. It smashed through the surrounding corsairs, sending them scattering like ninepins as the troupe flailed and thwacked away at searat heads with their large magic wands.

Clogg was taken aback momentarily, then he was up and pursuing the cart as it headed for the open gate of Marshank.

"Stop' em. It's a trick!"

Ballaw caught Gruzzle a hefty blow, sending him ears over tail. "Of course it's a trick, old lad. I told you it was!"

Tullgrew gave a shout of alarm from the walltop as she saw the horde pounding towards the compound. "Lookout, Felldoh. They're coming!"

Only half of the slaves were over the wall. Felldoh looked around in desperation as Hillgorse and Barkjon came running to him. The horde were now pelting around the outside of the compound towards them.

Barkjon groaned aloud. "There's too many and we have no weapons!"

Felldoh gritted his teeth. "At least half of us got away. Wait, this might hold 'em off a bit!" Grabbing a chunk of rock, he called up to Tullgrew, "Throw that rope down!"

Catching the rope, Felldoh secured the rock to one end of it and began swinging it as he advanced on the horde. It took out several of them before they hurriedly backed off. The chunk of rock circled and whirred in a deadly blur as Felldoh roared, "Come on. Who's next, you stinking bunch of cowards! Come on!"

"Get him, you dolts! Rush him!" Badrang howled with rage as he pushed his creatures forward.

Grabbing a spear from a weasel called Rotnose, Badrang hurled it. Still swinging the rock, Felldoh leaped to one side. The spear missed him but took Barkjon through his shoulder. Immediately, Hillgorse pulled the spear from his friend. The hedgehog was powerfully built despite his age. Wielding the spear with a strength born of desperation, he launched himself at the horde of foebeasts, plunging and stabbing wildly. In the narrow space between stockade and wall they were driven back by the spear and the swinging rock. Hillgorse stuck the spear in the ground by Felldoh.

"Give me the rope, young un. Take the spear and get your father away from here, he's been wounded. Do as I say, quickly!"

Felldoh grabbed the spear as he felt the rope taken from his paws by Hillgorse. Tullgrew had climbed halfway down the two log steps on the wall, and between them they hauled the semiconscious Barkjon upwards. Two arrows found Hillgorse as others clattered and bounced off the walls around Tullgrew and Felldoh, who had succeeded in gaining the walltop with the limp form of Barkjon held between them.

Bravely Hillgorse swung the rock, his strength failing as he shouted at the walltop, "Get away from here, Felldoh. Save your father and the others!"

Another arrow struck Hillgorse, and the rope slipped from his paws. The old hedgehog's eyes were misting over as he gave a final roar and hurled his spiky body into the ranks of the enemy.

Felldoh tried to scramble back down to Hillgorse, but Tullgrew hung on, pulling him back. "We must escape. He gave his life so we could be free!"

Felldoh bit his lip until blood showed. He took one last look at the scene below. Badrang and his horde were beginning to mount the logs and scale the wall, and the slaves who had not managed to escape were forcing their way back into the compound through the gap they had made. Felldoh still had the spear in his paw when he noticed who the last of the slaves was and shouted his name.

"Druwp!"

The treacherous bankvole did not turn. He knew who was calling him. He tried to squeeze through the gap back into the stockade but found his way blocked by the slaves inside.

"Out of my way or I'll report you!"

Those were the last words that Druwp spoke. Felldoh threw the spear, harder than he had ever thrown anything. It found its mark between the traitor's shoulder blades.

"Jump!"

Holding Barkjon between them, Felldoh and Tullgrew leaped from the walltop into the night. It was a good drop, but the strawpacked mattresses broke their fall. The others were waiting for them. They looked this way and that, unsure which would be the best direction to take in the darkness. Suddenly a nearby rumbling caused them to crouch down in the wall shadows, and a voice rang out.

"What ho, is that the disappearin' fox?"

Felldoh gave a sigh of relief. "Ballaw! I see you managed to escape safely."

"Rather! Though at the moment there's a posse of pirates hot on our paws. I say, have you got ladies an' young uns there?"

"Aye, and a wounded father, and any moment now Badrang'll be coming over that wall with his horde."

"Calls for a bit of quick thinkin', wot? Righto! Get the babes, mothers an' wounded into the cart. Everybeast fit to run get pushin', but wait until I give the word.. . Wait for it..."

The sound of Clogg's crew rounding the outside of the back wall blended with the shouts of Badrang and his horde, who had now reached the walltop. Ballaw kicked the last of the straw mattresses away into the night and joined his friends at the cart.

"Head south smartly now. Look alive, you chaps. Go!"

The wheels of the small wagon nearly left the ground as it shot forward, propelled by every ablebodied creature. In moments it had clattered off into the darkness.

Badrang pushed Hisk and Gurrad off the walltop. Grabbing others, he began shoving them off into space.

"Jump, you lilylivered toads. The slaves did it easily enough. Come on, you there, Nipwort, Fleabane. Jump!"

Bodies went flying from the walltop. Horde soldiers shut their eyes and leaped, preferring the drop to Badrang's towering anger.

The removal of the cushioning straw sacks made the landing hard for those who did not land on the heads of Cap'n Tramun Clogg and several of his crew members.

Ballaw had judged his timing right. Confusion reigned in the darkness as the corsair crew and the Tyrant's horde fought each other tooth and claw in the night.

19

A monster stood on the path in front of Rose. It had the body of a fox, the talons of an owl and a huge snakelike head with three big goggling eyes surmounted above rows of fearsome teeth. Dashing madly along to where the dreadful screams were issuing from, the mousemaid tried to stop at the sight of the horrendous apparition. Grumm and Pallum cannoned into her back, sending her staggering straight into the arms of the nightmare beast. She screamed aloud in terror as she blundered into its embrace.

Then it collapsed on the path in a dusty heap. Straw, grass, bark, dead ferns and feathers swirled everywhere.

Rose sneezed, spitting out a mouthful of downy fur as Pallum and Grumm came gingerly forward to help her up.

"Burr, wot be et?"

"Huh, Mirdop, it's nothing but a great big doll hanging from the trees by bits of creeper!"

Rose dusted herself down, looking around wildly. "Where's Martin?"

The horrendous screams had stopped. To one side of the path Martin sat upon a great hollow log, chuckling quietly. "Bravo, Rose. You've just slain your first Mirdop!"

The mousemaid looked flustered. "But how ... and you ... those screams ... ?"

"Come over here and I'll show you."

Martin bent beside the hollow log and called aloud, "Go back, for I am the Mirdop and I will slay you!"

The sound thundered and reverberated around the forest, magnified by the hollow ash log.

Grumm uncovered his ears when the noise faded.

"But oo wurr adoen all 'ee shouten?"

Martin took them around the other side of the big log to where four rabbits, obviously mother, father and two young, were lying slumped.

"Oh dear, you haven't killed them, Martin?" Rose

gasped.

The young mouse shook his head and smiled. "Of course not. I couldn't harm creatures like these. I sneaked up and saw what they were doing, so I thought I'd take a leaf out of your book, Rose."

The mousemaid looked mystified, then Martin explained. "Remember, the warrior who uses the voice instead of the sword? Well, I crept up behind them and started yelling as loud and horrible as I could. Of course, being new at this sort of thing, I suppose I underestimated the power of my cries. The rabbits seemed to freeze then fainted right away!"

Rose hurried to the side of the two babes. She stroked them tenderly until they began whimpering and moving. "Poor little things. You great bully, Martin. Fancy doing an awful thing like that!"

Grumm and Pallum had to hide their faces to stop bursting out laughing at the sight of Martin, paws outstretched in bewilderment.

"I didn't hurt them. What was I supposed to do, set about them with my sword, or ask them nicely to please stop terrorizing travellers? You're the one who went and destroyed their Mirdop. Bully yourself!"

Rose fussed about, wetting the older rabbits' mouths with water until they revived. Instantly they drew back in horror.

"Aagh! Go away, you savage creatures. Which one is Grumm the Growler, and who is Pallum the Mighty and Rose the Slayer?"

Grumm tugged his snout respectfully at the female rabbit.

"Hurr 'tis oi, marm. But oi doant mean 'ee no 'arm."

Martin took a slightly stronger line with them. "Er, just a moment, please. I think it's we should be asking the questions. What d'you mean by shouting threats and trying to intimidate travellers on this path?"

The father rabbit held a shaky paw to his brow. "Please, not so loud, we're really delicate creatures, you know. Allow me to introduce us. I'm Fescue, this is my wife Mildwort and these are the twins Burnet and Buttercup. Mirdop's the family name, hence the, er, figure we have to keep away intruders."

"Oh yes, it was Fescue's great Grandpa who built it," his wife interrupted. "One never knows what horrid types of beast want to wander abroad on our path. Please don't harm us, we were only protecting ourselves."

Rose sat by Mildwort Mirdop and spoke soothingly "We wouldn't dream of harming a nice little family like yours. I'm sorry we frightened you, but we were rather scared ourselves with all that threatening and roaring you were doing."

Fescue laughed nervously. "Er yes, haha, rather good, wasn't it? By the way, have you had tea yet?"

Grumm's stomach made a small gurgle as he rubbed it. "Us'ns be allus ready furr vittles, zurr. Do you'm 'ave zoop?"

Mildwort stared down her snub nose at the mole. "Hardly. Soup is not good for one at this time of day. Follow me, please."

They followed the Mirdop family down into their burrow. It was large, comfortable and spotless. Behind their backs, Pallum made a snooty gesture with paw to nose, and Grumm nodded in agreement.

Tea was a very formal affair in the Mirdop burrow. First the guests were given lavenderscented soap, warm water and soft barktowels to wash and dry their paws. The two young rabbits were sent back several times until their parents were satisfied that their paws were cleaned properly, then they all sat down at a small table.

Mildwort Mirdop brought a large pot of steaming mint tea with honey to go in it, a platter of waferthin cucumber sandwiches and seven tiny oat scones, each lightly spread with raspberry preserve. She seated herself, and in the silence that followed murmured quietly to her husband; "The grace before tea, dear."

Fescue coughed gently to clear his throat. They all stared down at the spotless tablecloth while he repeated the grace.

"For all we receive for tea,

Thanks to the seasons be.

Partake we sparingly

Of this good meal."

As they each chose a cucumber sandwich, Mildwort scolded Burnet. "Sandwiches first, scones later. Put it back please."

Baby Burnet scowled slightly. "Scones are my fav'rite."

Fescue tweaked his ear lightly. "Baby bunnies should be seen and not heard, Burnet. Don't talk back to your mother. How many times must we tell you!"

The meal was eaten rather quickly in polite frosty silence. Grumm made a sucking noise as he drained his teacup and sat back. "Hurr, they'm noice scones, marm. Oi'm partial to a noice scone."

Mildwort sniffed. "So are we, Mr. Grumm. There are more in the cupboard for tomorrow."

Fescue smiled nervously as he nodded agreement.

"Indeed there are, dear. No sense in overstuffing with food. Er, you say you are bound for Noonvale. I've no idea where the place is. We've always lived by our path, never moved away. I'm afraid I can't give you any directions, but I'm sure that from here you'll have to cross the west marshes. My advice to you is watch out for lizards. Nasty thingscannibals, I might add!"

Baby Burnet nodded and agreed with his father. "Cabbinals!"

"Burnet!" Fescue looked severely at him. "Do not interrupt your elders and betters. You are excused from the table. You too, Buttercup. Don't stray far from the burrow and try to keep clean. Bedtime soon."

Like two silent shadows, the little ones got down from their chairs, bobbed a curtsy and a bow to the guests and left the burrow with their mother's voice ringing in their ears.

"Walk, don't run. How many times must I tell you!"

As she cleared away the tea things from under the noses of the still hungry travellers, she said in a strained voice. "You are welcome to stay the night in our burrow."

Rose kicked Grumm beneath the table as he searched for crumbs. "How nice of you, Mrs. Mirdop, but we wouldn't dream of imposing upon your good nature. Besides, we have a long journey ahead of us and we must go while there is still daylight. Er, you mentioned cannibal lizards, Mr. Mirdop?"

Fescue Mirdop helped his wife to fold the tablecloth. "Oh yes, so I did. Right, here's what you must do. At the edge of the forest the marshes begin. Find the place called Marshwood Hill. If the lizards trouble you, then strike the gong you will see hanging from a hornbeam tree. The Warden will take care of you. He's such a nice creature, isn't he, dear?"

Mildwort Mirdop nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, the Warden of Marshwood Hill, a very, very nice creature!"

They took their leave of the Mirdops, thanking them for a pleasant stay. Mr. and Mrs. Mirdop waved before retreating back down their burrow. Grumm rummaged through their ration packs until he found some candied acorns and chestnuts. The two baby Mirdops were playing in front of the burrow, and he gave them a pawful each of the nuts.

"Yurr, babbies, eat'm oop noice'n messy loik. They'm guid'n sweet."

Further along the path, Martin and Rose fell about laughing as Pallum imitated the hungry Grumm at tea, taking both the parts of the mole and Mrs. Mildwort Mirdop.

"Burr, oi'm pow'ful 'ungry, give oi a scone, missus!" "No no, you nasty rough mole, one is quite sufficient!" "Hurr, then give oi summ zoop, marm." "Soup? Lack a season, the ruffian will eat us out of house and burrow. Go away and be off with you, you gluttonous beast!"

Grumm drew his ladle and shook it at Pallum. "One moor wurd out of 'ee an' oi'll raise a bump on you'm spikers!"

Late that evening they reached the forest edge. Standing on a small rise, they looked down on the great West Marshes spreading as far as the eye could see. Grasshoppers chirruped in the short hillgrass and myriad swarms of flies and midges were everywhere.

Rose shooed a cloud away with a dead fern. "Whew! I'm not sleeping the night out here. Let's go back and camp in the fringe of the trees. We can face this lot in the morning."

They slumped down wearily beneath a sycamore and a beech. A slithering nearby caused Martin to jump up. Two long slowworms snaked away hissing noisily, disturbed from their rest. The creatures made no move to attack, but Martin stood with short sword drawn watching them slither down the side of the rise toward the marshes. Pallum began collecting dry firewood and digging a shallow pit.

"It's all right, they're only slowworms. Evillooking reptiles, they do lojs of hissing but they can't really harm you. Right, Grumm, what'll it be? Cucumber sandwiches or one scone apiece?"

The mole was busy digging out some mushrooms he had found. He looked up, shaking soil from his snout energetically. "Zoop, we'm 'aven zoop! Aye, an' oi'll make a pudden too, wi' some apple an' blackberries growen over yonder."

Night fell warm and mild, with the small fire burning red as they sat around it, well fed and satisfied with their day's progress.

"Tut tut, Mr. Grumm the Growler," Rose teased Grumm. "If I were you I'd put half that pudding away for the morrow. You've eaten far too much already and it's way past your bedtime!"

The mole looked up from a ladleful of pudding and snorted, "Oi should've left you'm be'oind wi' they Mirkdops, mizzy. Teach you'm some manners, hurr!"

They watched a full moon move silently from behind pillowy nightcloud formations, it hung in the sky like a still, newpolished silver coin.

The two slowworms had returned. With them was a band of lizards twoscore strong. Their tongues slid silently in and out, filmy eyes blinking constantly against the dry warmth of the night. The two slowworms indicated where the sleeping travellers lay by thrusting their heads forward and hissing. The lizard leader, a great redfrilled reptile, nodded his head slowly as he watched the glow from the red embers of the fire dying lower. Soon the fire would be cold and the four travellers deep in sleep. The lizards waited patiently, watching their leader, waiting for him to move.

20

It was fully dawn when the escaped slaves and the Rambling Rosehip Players made their way back to the hideout on the southern cliffs. Puffing and panting, they threw themselves down on the grass and lay in the cool morning breeze. Gauchee came later than the rest. She had been watching their backtrack, covering the cart marks and keeping a wary eye peeled for pursuers. The mouse sat with her back to the cart.

"Nobeast following us, they must still be busy righting among each other."

Ballaw flopped his long ears thoughtfully from side to side. "Maybe so, but they'll try and find us. I can't imagine old Badthingy lettin' half his slaves an' us off that lightly. We'd be best postin' a guard. I'll take first watch, me an' this jollylookin' young mousey feller here. What's your name, sir?"

"They call me Juniper."

"Righto, Juno, me old nipper, you an' me are first guard."

Rowanoak blew tenderly on her paws. "Ooh, that's better! This dashing about all night doesn't suit me any more. Not as young as I used to be. Kastern, what are you up to this morning?"

"Well, there's lot of new mouths to feed," the sensible young mousemaid explained, "so I'm going to organize a forage party, see what we can find to swell our larder out a bit. I'll take some of our new companions when they've had a rest and a bite of breakfast."

Rowanoak liked to keep her paw on the pulse of activities in camp. She sat down and began massaging her footpaws.

"Hmm, good idea. Who's on cooking duties this morning?"

Trefoil wiped wheat flour from her paws on a dockleaf. "It looks like it's me again. I did it yesterday too. That Celandine was supposed to take her turn today, but she's probably off fluttering her pretty eyelashes at the new arrivals and enchanting them all."

"Oh, is she. Well, I'm not having any of that!" Rowanoak stood up decisively. "There are no shirkers in this troupe, everybeast pulls their weight. Where is she? Celandine! Celandine, it's no use hiding, missy. I want a word with you, m'lady!"

Rowanoak searched the camp several times before she began to get worried. Nobeast had seen the pretty squirrelmaid.

Ballaw left sentry duty a moment to call an assembly.

"Attention please. Has anyone seen Celandine?"

Barkjon held a healing poultice of herbs to his injured shoulder. The wound was not as serious as it had appeared the previous night. Felldoh held his father's head upright as Brome fed him soup from a scallop shell.

"Drink up, sir. This is made from green nettles and I don't know what, supposed to help recovery."

The old squirrel licked his lips as he finished the soup. "It tastes very nice. What's going on over there, some sort of meeting?"

"It's a young squirrelmaid, one of the company she's missing."

Barkjon sat up a bit, resting his back against his son's paws. With his eyes halfclosed he nodded slowly. "I remember now. Was she an extremely pretty creature?"

Brome put aside the empty shell. "Oh yes, d'you recall her?"

"Indeed I do. Though I was only half conscious, I remember seeing her face over the back of the cart as she pushed. I thought she was the nicestlooking squirrel I had ever seen. I must have dozed off awhile, because when I woke she wasn't there any more. Perhaps she tripped and fell."

"Aye." Brome nodded, recalling the wild dash from Marshank. "We were going so fast that nobeast would have noticed. She's either lost or captured by now."

Felldoh laid his father down carefully. "If she's lost I'll find her."

Barkjon struggled to get up. "But what if she's captured, son?"

"Then I'll free her, or die trying!" Felldoh's strong face radiated anger and hatred. He strode off, leaving Brome and Barkjon gazing after him.

The old squirrel shook his head. "Let him go, Brome. There is a great rage in my son against all that Marshank stands for. You were only there a short while, he has spent most of his life as a slave. I know how he feels."

Soon the news was all over the camp that Celandine was either lost or captured. Ballaw posted Buckler on guard with Juniper. He conferred with Rowanoak awhile, then they both went to talk with Felldoh.

The squirrel was sitting by the fire. At his side lay a pile of short heavy driftwood lances. He was hardening their points to needle sharpness by burning and rubbing them on a rock. Felldoh was intent on his work and he did not even bother to look up as the hare and badger approached.

"What ho, treejumper. Looks like you're armin' yourself up to start a one beast war there, wot?"

Felldoh continued sharpening the short lances as he replied, "Whatever it takes, I've got scores to settle at Marshank."

Rowanoak squatted alongside Him. "Need any help, Felldoh?"

He pulled another lance from the fire and began grinding it to a point on the rock. "It's not your fight. I got your troupe into this, and it's time I did a bit myself without endangering others."

Rowanoak nodded understandingly, realizing Felldoh was in no mood to be argued with. She watched him awhile before picking up one of the lances and weighing it in her paw. "How far can you throw one of these things?"

Felldoh took the lance and stood up. "Far enough. My muscles are stronger than most after seasons working in Badrang's rock quarry." He threw the lance from the cliff top. It sailed out over the beach a fair distance before burying itself point first in the sand.

"Not bad at all." Rowanoak winked at the hare. "Ballaw and I can throw a short lance twice that distance."

"I'd like to see you try!" Felldoh laughed humorlessly.

Ballaw sought around until he came up with a piece of driftwood not quite as long as the lances Felldoh was making. Taking a knife, he cut a deep notch across one end of the wood, then hefted it and made several throwing motions. A few more adjustments to the wood with his knife and Ballaw nodded with satisfaction.

"That's about right, old chap. Pass me a javelinany one'll do."

Felldoh selected one of the short heavy javelins and gave it to Ballaw. The hare laid the javelin flat along his piece of wood, point forward and the other end resting against the notch he had cut. With the weapon lying flat on the wood against the notch, he drew back his arm, took a short hopskip and flung out, holding on to the wood. The javelin soared away, passing Felldoh's weapon on the beach, travelling onward and finally splashing down into the water on the tideline, almost out of sight. Felldoh gasped as Ballaw gave him the piece of wood.

"Here, old lad, you have it. Simple device, eh wot? Makes your throwing arm twice its length and gives you double the distance."

Felldoh looked at the javelin launcher as Ballaw continued, "We've won many a supper at tribe gatherings in the south with one of those. There was always some big brawny beast wagered he could throw a javelin farther than me or Rowanoak."

The badger offered her paw to Felldoh. "Now do you want our help?"

Felldoh grasped the big paw, his eyes alight with resolve. "Let's go and see if they've got Celandine at Marshank!"

Accusations flew thick and fast at Marshank, Clogg and Badrang blaming the whole thing on one another in the wake of the confusion at the rear wall. While the remainder of the slaves were under heavy guard, the other corsairs and horde members gathered in the courtyard to witness the argument raging between their leaders. It was a fine show of rage, spleen and insults.

"Hah, Lord 'igh an' mighty Badrang, is it? Can't 'old on to arf a passel of defenceless slavebeasts. Yore a lobstertail!"

"I'd sooner be anything but a complete idiot who lets the enemy into Marshank and has the gall to call them friends. You always did keep your brains in your clogs, Tramun, you buffoon!"

"Buffoon yerself. Ye blown up pollywoggle! There was me an' the crew nearly catchin' those creatures, an' wot did you do? Jumped off the wall on to our 'eads, you jellyfish!"

"Jellyfish? You're the one who started all this mess, addlebrain!"

"Oh, is that so? Then who set fire to my ship and who let the slaves escape? You've brought bad luck on both of us, fiddlebrain!"

"Shut your mouth, you pigtailed poltroon, or I'll shut it for you!"

"Haharr, now yore flyin' yer true colours, jugnose. I'm not stoppin' round 'ere to bandy words with the like o' you, I'm off to do somethin' useful. Gruzzle, Boggs, form the crew up fully armed."

"Hold hard there, woodenpaws. Where d'you think you're off to?"

"Well, clean out yer mucky lugs an' lissen whilst I tell yer. Those slaves that escaped last night is now free beasts, you got no jurisdiction over 'em anymore, Badrang yore Lordship. So, if any beast were to recapture 'em, then they'd belong to the finder, an' that'll be me if yer please. Come on, lads. Away, boat's crew!"

Badrang watched Clogg and his crew march off through Marshank's front gates.

"Shall we form the horde up and stop 'em, Lord?" Gurrad whispered anxiously to the Tyrant.

Badrang gave the rat a withering glance. "Stop them, what for? Let me do the thinking, Gurrad. If Clogg recaptures the slaves, where's he going to take them, what's he going to feed them on, where's he going to keep them penned up?"

Gurrad looked puzzled, "I don't know, Lord. Where?"

Badrang tapped a paw against his skull. "That's why you're a hordebeast and I'm a leader, Gurrad. What else can Clogg do but bring them back here. When he does, I'll take them from him. So, what could be simpler than allowing Cap'n Tramun Clogg to be our slave chaser."

Gurrad sniggered gleefully, rubbing his paws together. "You're a clever one, Sire. A real clever one!"

Badrang buffed his claws on his fir and inspected them. "I could buy and sell an oaf like Clogg anyday. He'll soon find that out to his cost."

Celandine was lost. When she tripped and fell while running through the night with the cart, the young squirrelmaid had cracked her head and passed out on the spot. Dawn had broken a full hour before she came to. Celandine's first reaction was to sit and cry, and she did so. Sobbing and wailing brokenheartedly, she lay on the clifftop, kicking her footpaws and nursing a bruised lump, just below her ear near her jawline. At regular intervals she would stop and sniff, calling out the names of Ballaw, Rowanoak, Buckler and Felldoh. Hearing no reply, the pretty squirrelmaid would throw herself back fullthroated into a bout of copious bellowing and weeping. Why did no one come? There was always somebeast round to dance attention when tears flowed down her beautiful face. It took quite a long time for Celandine to realize that she was totally alone, so she set about doing what she did best, preening herself and attending to her looks. She brushed, licked, dusted and primped, holding her head coyly on one side so that the curve of her bushy tail hid the unsightly bump she had suffered. Then she sat again and bemoaned her fate aloud to the bright morning air.

"Owwww! Why doesn't somebeast come for me? My head's aching and I must look a dreadful sight. Owww! I'm hungry and thirsty and dusty and dirty and now I'm lost. Owoooh!"

The weasel Floater had been scouting ahead. He made his way back to where Clogg was leading the crew.

"No tracks of the carts, Cap'n. They finish over yonder. Musta been somebeast coverin' the trail."

Clogg looked at the ground, chewing one of his beard plaits. "Covered, ye say? Bad fortune fer us, matey. Lookit, 'ere comes ole Crosstooth. May'ap 'e 'as some news.

The fox pointed at a tangent to where the cart tracks had finished. "Found a set of pawprints goin' thataway, Cap'n, but 'tis only one beast."

Clogg spat the plait out and scratched his nose. "Cfcie beast is better than none I allus says mate, lead on!"

They had not gone far when the sounds of Celandine's lamentations reached their ears. Tramun Clogg signalled for silence. Bellying down, the corsairs breasted a low hill. They peered over at the weeping squirrelmaid.

Gruzzle shook his head sympathetically. "Ain't she pretty, Cap'n. It's enough t' break yer 'eart!"

Clogg chewed at a dandelion still attached to its stem. "Aye, 'tis sad, matey, an' even sadder when I thinks of the way I'm goin' to make that liddle beauty wail when I tickles some information out o' her with me cutlass point."

Celandine was still crying and talking aloud to herself.

"Oh, why don't any of the troupe come and find me? Owww! Oh dear, I mustn't weep so much or I'll look all ugly and puffy."

"Ho, that ye will, me liddle weepin' willow. Come on now, dry yore eyes an' give ole uncle Clogg a big smile!"

Celandine looked up in terror. Standing not ten paces from her was the corsair stoat and his villainous crew. She choked out a small frightened whimper as Clogg drew his cutlass and advanced on her, grinning wickedly.

21

Martin and his friends were captured so quickly it made their heads whirl. One moment they were sleeping peacefully, and in a twinkling they were dragged up on to their footpaws. Tough vine ropes secured their paws tight with nooses that locked around their necks. The dark slithering shapes of lizards were everywhere, slinking around the treetrunks and writhing over each other, making no other sound than a sibilant hiss.

With his paws pinioned to the sides of his head by the vine that encircled his neck, Martin struggled to get loose and reach his short sword, shouting to Rose and the others.

"Rose! Are you all... gaaaargh!"

The big redfrilled lizard pulled savagely on the vine, choking Martin into silence. The young mouse tugged either side of his neck, striving to loosen the vine so he could breathe properly. Then they were off at a headlong run, pulled along cruelly with countless lizards flanking them and shoving from behind. Splashing through marshwater, cludging through mud, crashing through nettles, they rushed through the night.

Rose sobbed for breath. Tripping on a root, she fell flat in some ferns. The speeding reptiles did not stop or even slow, they continued their mad stampede, dragging her along thumping and bumping across the soggy earth. How she fought her way back upright Rose never knew, but she was certain she would have been dragged to her death had she not done so.

Grumm's short legs battered the earth as he was dragged and swept along in the midst of the lizard throng. Somewhere close he could hear Pallum's ragged gasps as his friend fought for air on the end of a strangling vine noose.

Battering through evilsmelling liquid and bubbling marsh gases, they pelted onward, mud flying everywhere as lizard tails waved and scaly legs leaped high in the reptile stampede. Martin lost all count of time or distance until, like his three friends, he passed out from lack of air and was dragged along by the neck.

Morning in the marshes was overcast with wraithing grey mist tinged with yellow sulphurous wisps. The four bodies that lay tied to stakes were practically unrecognizable as a mole, a hedgehog and two mice. They were completely covered in thick caking mud and clay from the wild run.

Martin stirred and coughed. His throat hurt abominably.

"Martin, are you all right?"

It was Pallum. The hedgehog resembled a round ball of clay.

"Pallum. I'm alive at least. How are you?"

"Be much better when my old neck stops hurtin'. I've been awake an hour or more, but I lay still. Didn't want to attract attention from those creepy lizardsthey're all round us."

Martin strained his neck slightly. The vine was still looped around it, though now his paws were free. Lizards were everywhere, just sitting and staring at them. He noticed the large redfrilled leader had the short sword lying on the ground in front of him.

Martin crawled across to Rose. Loosening the vine on her neck, he patted her muddied cheeks, calling her name. "Rose, Rose!"

A jumble of lizards dived on him, pulling the noose tight as they dragged him away from Rose. Martin fought back as best as he could, shouting through the scaly bodies that enveloped him, "I was only trying to let her breathe, you scaly villains. Let me go. We weren't trying to escape!"

The big redfrilled lizard stalked slowly across. He kicked the others off Martin and dragged the young mouse back to his stake. Hissing softly, he gave the vine a final sharp tug, indicating that Martin should stay in that spot. Flicking his serpentine tongue, he turned and slid gracefully back to his former position.

Pallum looked across at Martin and shrugged. "Don't say much, do they? We'd best sit tight and wait for Rose and Grumm to come around."

Both Rose and her mole friend revived some short time later. They sat massaging sore necks, easing the tight vines off to enable easier breathing. The big redfrill gave the vines a tug when he thought they had messed enough with them. He hissed softly and sat watching the four captives.

After a while, they got to know the rules. They were allowed to talk, but only in quiet tones. If they talked loudly, or pulled at the nooses, the lizards would yank hard, tightening the vines, and hiss soft warnings at them.

Grumm picked burrs and mud from his face. "They'm sloimy vurmints, aroight. Soilent, tho'. Nary a word do they'm lizzyards be aspeaken."

"Hush now, Grumm," Martin muttered quietly and urgently. "They're coming over here!"

Silently a group of lizards came to each of the prisoners and deposited by them four large gourds of water. The reptiles retreated and sat watching.

Rose tilted one of the gourds and sipped, then she drank deep gratefully. "It's water, good clean and fresh. I never knew it could taste so nice."

They drank their fill, dashed some in their faces to wash away the dirt and grime, then sat waiting. Next to come was a great wooden pan fashioned from a section of lime trunk. The redfrilled leader indicated that it be placed in the centre of the area between the four stakes, where the captives could reach it. Again the reptiles retired to watch.

The vessel was filled with a warm creamcoloured mixture. Pallum ventured a dip into it with his paw. He licked at the stuff and shrugged.

"Food. Tastes like some kind of porridge. Not much flavor in it, though. Hmmm, yes. I think it tastes a bit like mushroom."

They all tried some and agreed it was palatable enough, but had hardly any taste.

Grumm shovelled a pawful into his mouth. "Hurr, tain't zoop or nothink noice, but et ain't bad, burr no."

Rose had taken several mouthfuls. She splashed a little water on her paws to cleanse them. "Huh, it's not very good either. I've had enough of that tasteless mush, thank you."

The redfrill stalked sinuously over to her. He tugged the vine sharply, indicating that she should carry on eating.

Rose sighed and looked across at Martin. "Old frilly neck won't be happy until we've eaten all our dinner up like good little creatures. I suppose I'd better try some more."

Martin licked his paw and dug in again. "Mushroom porridge. It's deadly boring."

"Huh hu huh!" Pallum chuckled as he spoke through a mouthful. "D'you think they're trying to fatten us up a bit?"

Suddenly they stopped eating. The horror of what the hedgehog had just said dawned on them.

"What was it Mr. Mirdop said," Rose whispered in a hushed voice. "Cannibal lizards!"

Twice that day more bowls of porridge and gourds of water were brought to them. If they showed signs of refusing to eat, the big redfrill would tug on the vines until they began choking.

Grumm groaned as he noticed several of the reptiles scraping ashes from a long pit at the edge of the lizard settlement. Others began laying charcoal and dry wood in it.

Martin seethed silently. If only he could break away and reach his short sword, but it was impossiblethey were watched by scores of gaping lizards who seemed to have little else to do but sit and look at them. The young mouse lay back, his mind racing furiously against the insurmountable problem.

A dipper appeared on a low branch nearby. The little bird nodded its head from side to side, ruffling its handsome browny red plumage and preening at its fawncolored breast. It made a twittering noise and Rose looked at it strangely.

"Martin, that bird is talking to us."

Noting that the lizards were still watching, Martin kept his voice to a quiet conversational level. "Can you understand it, Rose?"

"I think so. It's said the same thing twice now. Ganna aitcha gannc aitcha . I'm pretty sure it's saying, Going to eat you, going to eat you , meaning the lizards are going to eat us."

"You're right, Rose." Martin trembled with excitement, trying hard to keep his voice under control. "The lizards must not be able to understand it or they'd have chased it off by now. See if you can get it to carry a message to the Warden of Marshwood Hill."

"Ganna alpiz, ganna alpiz?" Rose made a strange noise halfway between a whistle and a chatter.

The little dipper nodded, pecking at the branch. "Alpichoo alpichoo!"

Pallum had been listening. "What did it say?" "I tried to ask it for help." Rose explained. " Ganna alpiz , sounds a bit like going to help us. It replied, Alpichoo , which sounds like help you !"

Grumm came in on the conversation. "Ho urr, but 'ow you'm goin' t' say Warden o' Marshywood 'ill?"

Rose pondered a moment. "Right, how does this sound?" She made a lilting sound. "Whoa hoo din alpiz! Whoa hoo din alpiz!"

The dipper puffed out his tiny chest and flew off trilling, "Whoa hoo din! Whoa hoo din!"

Martin sat up slowly. "Well, he's gone now. I take it that whoa hoo din meant warden , Rose?"

"It was the closest I could get. Whoa hoo din alpiz. Warden help us. Let's hope the dipper understood. Oh no, they're bringing more porridge."

Silent lizards replaced the empty bowl with a fresh one of the sickly warm mushroom porridge and full water gourds were brought.

Rose held her stomach and pulled a face. "Yukk! I can't eat any more of this filthy rubbish!"

The redfrill came striding over. Martin could tell that he was going to tug Rose's neck vine tight. The young mouse's warrior spirit boiled over at the thought of the reptile tormenting Rose. As the redfrill stalked past him, Martin let out a yell and smashed the water gourd over its head. In a flash they were grappling. Martin's neck vine strained tight as he pushed the redfrill's head straight into the porridge, leaning his full weight to keep it there as he tried to drown the reptile.

"Here, frilly. Try some of your own medicine!" Before Rose, Pallum or Grumm could help, a mob of lizards were upon Martin, smothering him with their pulsing bodies as they freed their leader. Four of them untied Martin's neck vine from its stake. The red frill hissed balefully at him, tongue flickering in and out constantly. Helpless and weighted down by numbers, the young mouse was dragged off towards the firepit. Two lizards put flint to tinder and leaped back as a curl of smoke arose. Other lizards flung themselves on Rose, Pallum and Grumm as the mousemaid screamed at the top of her voice,

"Leave him alone, you filthy crawlers. Put that fire out!"

22

Sometimes in a pinch frivolous young squirrelmaids can turn out far more resourceful than they themselves would have known. So it was with Celandine. As a Rambling Rosehip Player, she had acted the part of the brave and beautiful heroine many times. Now was her chance to give a star performance.

Cap'n Tramun Clogg advanced on her, leering and winking roguishly. "Haharr, don't be afeared o' me, pretty little bird. Soon you'll be singin' just fer me!"

Celandine backed off, throwing up her paws in horror. "Begone, you great ugly toad. Put not a paw near me!"

Clogg, who had always imagined himself as a handsome buccaneering beast, halted indignantly. "Ugly toad? You hardnosed liddle snip, come 'ere, I say!"

"Never. I would rather die!"

"Hoho, missy, that kin be arranged. Now be still or you'll make it worse on yoreself.. ."

Clogg leaped at her, clutching with his free paw. Celandine stumbled back, half tripping. She grabbed a pawful of the sandy soil and flung it straight into the corsair's face. Regaining her balance, she dashed off.

Clogg dropped his cutlass and sat down hard, pawing at his eyes, which were jammed full of loose, gritty dust.

"Get after that bold baggage an' catch 'er," he howled at his crew. "Lively now! I'll 'ave 'er ears fer dinner an' 'er liver 'n' tripes tore out!"

Only Gruzzle stayed back to look after Clogg. The rest set off at a run after Celandine, laughing and cheering. They knew a single squirrelmaid could not get far with an entire crew of corsairs hard on her paws.

Celandine ran as she had never run before, wishing that she had not added all the frills and furbelows to her Rambling Rosehip tunic. They impeded her and often caused her to stumble. Behind her she could hear the whoops and guffaws of her pursuers as they drew closer. The squirrelmaid's breath came in ragged sobs. She was unused to running any great distance. Cap'n Clogg had made it plain that he meant her harm, and there was no telling what might happen to her if she fell into the claws of searats and corsairs. Death would be inevitable. Not knowing where she was running to, Celandine forced her flagging limbs onward.

Three searats, Critter, Crableg and Bluddnose, took the lead, outstripping the rest of Clogg's crew easily. They were good runners, lean and fit.

A sand dune rose up in front of Celandine, and there was no way round it. She panted fitfully, going down on all fours as she attempted to scramble up the hill. Crableg put on an extra spurt and dived forward. He managed to catch the squirrelmaid's back footpaw. Wriggling swiftly on to her back, Celandine kicked out. She caught him hard on the snout, causing Crableg to release her. The searat was so close he could have reached out and touched her.

"You ain't goin' to be pretty no more, squirrel!" he snarled as he wiped a stream of blood from his snout on to the back of his paw.

Whipping a curved dagger from his waist sash, he brandished it. Suddenly a wooden lance seemed to grow out of his chest. Crableg looked down at it and fell dead with a foolish expression of surprise on his face. The slaying happened so quickly that Gritter and Bluddnose had not seen it. They arrived panting at the dune to find their messmate lying dead, with the short wooden lance protruding from him like a ship's mast. There was no other creature in sight except the squirrelmaid, her eyes wide with horror.

Gritter drew his sword and walked uphill towards her. "You killed Crableg wi' that piece o' wood, you lid die serpint!"

As he raised the sword, another javelin came whistling through the air and transfixed him through the throat.

Bluddnose had drawn his sword, but his nerves failed him. With a small wail of fright he flung the weapon away and took to his heels, back towards the main group, who were now in sight.

Celandine sat shocked, looking at the two dead searats in front of her.

"Celandine, climb the hill, get up here quickly!" a hoarse, urgent voice called from the hilltop.

She sat staring at the carcasses of Crableg and Gritter, unable to comprehend what had happened.

"Move yourself, missy," Ballaw's voice rang out theatrically. "Come on, up here or you'll miss your cue!"

Automatically, Celandine picked herself up and scrambled dumbly to the hilltop. Rowanoak's huge paws swept her over the hill and out of sight. The badger clamped a paw over the squirrelmaid's mouth, and Ballaw and Felldoh fixed fresh javelins on to their throwers.

Crosstooth the fox had always liked Crableg's curved dagger. He took it from the searat's lifeless paw and tucked it into his belt as he nudged Critter's body with his spearshaft

"Y'mean to tell us that the pretty liddle squirrel did this?"

Bluddnose was shaking uncontrollably. "Well, there was nobeast else 'ereabouts. She musta did it!"

The ferret Boggs curled his lip scornfully. "Did ye see the squirrel kill 'em?"

Bluddnose sat down on the duneside, head in paws. "No, I never. One moment they was large as life, next thing they're both dead. She must've done it. Can't yer see, she's vanished. I knew we should never 'ave messed with magic beasts!"

A weasel called Floater swapped his own chipped and rusted sword for the better blade that Gritter had once owned, and scoffed aloud, "Vanished me tail! We seen 'er go over this 'ere dune. See, there's the beauty's pawtracks. I'm goin' up there an' get 'er meself."

Clogg stumped to join the rest, with Gruzzle at his side, still trying to clear the corners of his Cap'n's eyes with a none too clean silk kerchief. Tramun shoved him away and patted Floater's back.

"Aye, there's the laddo. Up the 'ill ye go, Floater. Sing out if you sees anythin' up there."

As they stood watching the weasel scale the dune, Clogg muttered in his beard to himself. "Nay, it weren't no snip of a squirrelymaid did fer two tough rogues like Crableg an' ole Gritter. The beast that did this could sling a lance good an' proper."

Shielding his eyes, Clogg squinted up at the weasel, who had made it to the top of the hill.

"Ahoy, Floater. Any signs o' life up there?"

The weasel waved his paws wildly, shouting aloud, "Cap'n, it's threeeeeeeeeee!"

Floater came rumbling awkwardly back down the dune, flopping this way and that, hampered in his fall by the short lance through the center of his back. The body halted its sliding descent right in front of the Cap'n's big wooden clogs.

"Three o' me best fightin' beasts slain. Harr, the murderin' scoundrels, 'ooever they are. Right, buckoes, arm yerselves an' take the 'ill. Chaaarge!"

Clogg stood back, whirling his cutlass as he urged them on. The charge was not a notable success. Nobeast wanted to reach the top first, and there was a deal of hanging back and accidental stumbling before Clogg realized what was going on. The pirate stoat did a small dance of anger, clogs clicking sharply.

"You bottlenosed bloaters, get up that 'ill right now, d'ye hear me. That's an order from yer Cap'n. Go on, chaaaaarge!"

They stood awkwardly about a third of the way up the dune, still unwilling to storm the hilltop. Clogg unsheathed his cutlass and began bustling his way up, knocking crew members left and right as he did.

"Out o' me way, yer mack'relfaced, milkswiggin', muck'eads. Yore nothin' but a pack o' ringtailed cowards!"

As they turned to look sheepishly at him, a searat called Wulpp screamed when a short javelin zinged out of nowhere and slammed right through his footpaw. The charge immediately deteriorated into an undignified rush down the hill.

Clogg followed in their rear, berating them soundly. "One liddle spear an' yore all runnin' about like beetles in a bucket. Ho shame! I never thought I'd see the day a crew o' mine would dash off without even seein' the enemy!"

When they were a reasonable distance from the big dune, the corsairs stopped and sat down on a grassy sward. Tramun came clattering up, with Wulpp limping slowly several lengths behind. The corsair Cap'n slumped down and began emptying sand from his clogs.

"Gruzzle, I'm fair disappointed in you, matey, an' you, Dedjaw, an' you, Boggs. Mateys, what are ye all afeared of, a few ole sharpened wooden sticks?"

Whang !

A needlepointed lance arced out of the blue summer sky, narrowly missing Tramun Clogg as it pinned his coat skirt to the ground. The corsair Cap'n leaped up as if he had been beestung, ripping his coat from the quivering lance in the process.

"Tidal waves an' typhoons! There must be a monster be'ind yon 'ill. Nobeast could hurl a lance that far!"

The rout continued, with Clogg in the lead as they scurried back to the safety of Marshank.

Behind the sand dune, Felldoh lay watching over the rim at the retreating corsairs.

Ballaw blew a long sigh of relief as he put down his javelins and thrower. "Good job they never charged the bally top an' stormed us. There was enough of the blighters."

Rowanoak dusted sand from herself. "There certainly was. Imagine if they'd got past us, our camp is only over the next hill, south and east on the clifftops."

Celandine suddenly bounced back as if nothing had happened. Primping the lace hems of her tunic, she remarked airily, "Oh yes, I had an idea it was, that's why I headed over this way!"

Ballaw rolled his eyes upward in mock despair. "You dreadful little fibber, miss! You were coming this way because a band of ruffians were chasing you."

"O them!" Celandine tossed her tail huffily. "I knew they wouldn't get me!"

Felldoh turned around from the dune rim. "But how did you know?"

Celandine clasped both his paws, fluttering her eyelids wildly. "Because I knew in my heart that my brave Felldoh would come to my rescue, and you did."

Rowanoak smiled and shook her huge head. "Come on, brave Felldoh, let's get this ruthless charmer back to camp!"

Felldoh felt his face burning as Celandine hung on his paws, praising him outrageously.

"You're so strong, so courageous, and so accurate with your sharp little sticks. Ooh look, I pricked my paw on one!

When they had gone, Brome emerged from hiding. He had followed Felldoh with the intention of joining him, until the badger and the hare decided to help his friend. Brome had stayed out of sight, knowing that Ballaw and Rowanoak would have sent him packing, back to camp. So he secreted himself in a clump of tor grass and watched them rescuing Celandine. Brome had grown a lot bolder since his escape from Marshank. He admired Felldoh and wanted to be like him, but he was treated as a young one in the camp. Brome climbed the dune and peered down on the three dead corsairs, imagining himself launching lances alongside Felldoh and simmering with resentment at being left out.

He slid down the dune on his bottom and sat looking at the three lifeless figures. After a while the young mouse ventured to pick up the sword which lay near Gritter. He swung it in the air, trying a few fancy strokes, an idea forming in his head as he did. There were still a good number of slaves to be freed from Marshank. Imagine the looks on the faces of Felldoh, Ballaw and Rowanoak if he, Brome, came marching back with a score or so of slaves that he had rescued.

The more Brome swung the sword the more he liked the idea. He would do it!

Arming himself with the sword and a dagger from Floater's belt, he dressed himself up in an assortment of corsair gear which he took from the three bodies. Smudging up his face with a few pawfuls of dust, Brome pulled the brim of Crableg's floppy hat down at a rakish angle and set off for Fortress Marshank. Swaggering along like a villainous searat, he practised the brogue.

"Haharr, I'm Bucktail, as good a matey that ever sailed the seas an' plundered landlubbers. Haharr an' hoho!"

23

As Grumm, Pallum and Rose tugged at their neck vines they screamed and shouted insults and threats, despite the menacing presence of the lizards who surrounded them. Martin did not waste breath on words. He fought savagely tooth and paw as the reptiles dragged him bodily towards the fire pit. The redfrilled leader stood impassively by, tongue flickering, throat pulsing, silent as the rest of his tribe. Martin drew blood from several of the beasts, kicking, butting, biting and gouging whenever he could force a movement among the swarming lizards whose bodies swamped and stifled his every attempt. The fire took off and began crackling, pale wisps of smoke rising to blend with the fetid air as hungry golden red flames danced and nickered in the cooking pit.

A piercing offkey cry rang through the marshlands. Immediately all activity among the lizards stopped. The noise rent the still air a second time. It was not a pleasant sound, something akin to the screech of a gate with rusty hinges, coupled with a loud gurgling ululation. The redfrilled leader's head shook from side to side, eyes flickering and filming as he hissed what appeared to be some type of warning or command. The rest of the reptiles went into swift, silent action. Hustling Martin and his three friends together, they hauled the neck vines tight, securing them firmly to the stakes so that the four captives were forced to lie with their faces in the dirt. Ferns, leafy boughs, rushes, shrubs and all manner of vegetation were piled hurriedly on the prisoners until they were lost to view. Several lizards perched on top of the pile, stretching themselves out as if napping. Beneath the oppressive heap, Martin and his companions fought desperately for breath.

A fully grown male grey heron stalked majestically into the lizard encampment, towering high over the heads of the reptiles as they stood still like statues. The Warden of Marshwood Hill was an immense bird. He glared down at the lizards from his enormous height, darkpupilled, pale gold eyes watching them from over a savage yellow pair of beak spikes. Throwing back the snakelike column of his powerful neck, he gave throat to a chilling shriek, the twin black feathers on his skull back vibrating.

The dipper zoomed down from the branches of a gnarled wychelm at the edge of the clearing. It landed among the lizards perched on top of the vegetation and did an excited hopskip dance. The grey heron moved fearlessly and fast, long black sticklike legs pounding the ground as it spread awesome silk grey wings and charged the heap. The lizards scuttled over each other in their attempts to get out of its way, but they were flung high into the air as the heron scattered the foliage, demolishing the entire pile with wings, beak and claw webbed feet.

Martin, Rose, Grumm and Pallum lay exposed on the ground, writhing feebly as they pulled at the taut neck vines. The Warden's dangerous amber beak clacked perilously close to their heads as he severed the vines with careless ease. He watched them for a moment until Martin's eyes opened. Leaning close, he spoke to the young mouse in a precise clipped manner.

"Lie still, stay there. Do not interfere, lizards! Got to deal with them!"

The Warden strode a measured pace around the camp. There was complete silence. He glared at the reptiles. The lizards stood motionless, tongues in, eyes filmed over as if completely cowed by the mad intensity of the heron's stare. Martin watched, fascinated. The whole affair was carried out in complete silence. The heron would point to the captives with its beak then glare at the lizards. They remained motionless. Regardless of whether or not he trod on heads, bodies or tails, the Warden stalked about the camp, finally halting in front of the redfrilled leader. With a slow contemptuous movement of one leg, the heron flicked the redfrill over on to its back. It was obviously a challenge that the lizard leader had to accept. Wriggling upright, the redfrill hissed and circled to attack.

Lying between Pallum and Martin, Rose watched in horror as the grey heron's beak flashed down. "Oh, how horrible!"

Martin covered her eyes with his paw. "Don't look, Rose. I think I can guess what he's going to do next!"

Grumm turned his face aside. "Burr oo, dearie oi! Never could oi be that 'ungry!"

Pallum nodded in agreement as the Warden turned on another lizard. "Guaw! I never seen nothing like that. It's disgusting!"

Martin shrugged. "Maybe you've forgotten, but those lizards were going to eat us. The big bird is dealing out his justice to them."

The killer's beak flashed down several more times until the Warden of Marshwood Hill had taken his fill. He swallowed and gulped, then threw back his head and gave a sharp cry. It was a signal that the lizards were dismissed. They scattered into the marshes in seconds, leaving the camp deserted except for the four friends and the grey heron. Wiping his beak methodically on a grassy tussock, he strode across to them.

"I am Warden of Marshwood Hill. These are my marshes, and I am the only law. Lizards are lawbreakers, toads and snakes also. I do what must be done!"

Martin bowed formally. "I am Martin, this is Rose, Pallum and Grumm. We wish to thank you for saving our lives. We are travelling through your marshes on our way to Noonvale. I was hoping you could help us with some directions."

The little dipper had landed next to Rose. She was stroking its head. The Warden preened his huge downy breast awhile as if considering what Martin had said.

"I know no Noonvale, but I have heard its name spoken. I will guide you through my marshes. Obey my laws, or I kill you. Lawbreakers must be killed. Gather your things, and follow me."

Martin picked up his sword, Grumm found his ladle, Rose and the dipper found the packsthey were untouched, the lizards had not bothered with them.

"Can you put out fire?" The Warden pointed his beak at Pallum. "I do not like fire."

The hedgehog was about to reply when Grumm ambled over.

"Oi c'n put they'm foire out, zurr Wardun, ho urr."

The mole positioned himself by the fire pit and set to work with his remarkable digging claws. Shooting damp marsh earth backwards, he dug furiously. In a short time the fire pit was reduced to a smouldering mass, covered in the earth that Grumm had spread on it.

The Warden nodded abruptly. "I could not do that. You are a useful creature."

Grumm tipped a paw to his snout. "Thankee, zurr, tho' you'm 'as thoi own uses, oi 'spect, keepin' 'ee law in these yurr swamps."

But the Warden was not listening, he was stalking off out of the camp, calling back to them, "Come, follow me. I will guide you through my marshes to the mountain. I must stay here, I am the law."

As they trekked over what appeared to be a slender trail through the wetlands, Grumm whispered to Pallum, "Yurr, they burd doant say much, do 'ee."

Pallum could not resist doing a comical impression of the Warden. Strutting stifflegged, he glared at Grumm and spoke sharply. "I am the law. These are my marshes. I am the law!"

Both the hedgehog and the mole burst into subdued chuckles.

The Warden turned and glared at them. "Make fun of the law, and I deal with you. I am the law!"

Pallum and Grumm froze for a moment then they saluted vigorously. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir!"

"You'm 'ee law, zurr. Ho urr, gudd, foine!"

Martin walked along with Rose. He nodded at the little bird hopping by her side. "I see you've got a new friend, Rose. What's his name?"

The mousemaid stroked the little creature's downy head. "Dipper, that's what he is and that's what I'll call him. Martin, did you hear what the Warden saidhe'd guide us to the mountain. I wonder where that is."

"Me too. I suppose the only way we'll find out is by following him. He seems to know the country well enough."

"Oh yes, and d'you know why that is?"

Martin smiled knowingly. Leaning close he whispered into Rose's ear so that the Warden could not hear.

"Because he is the law!"

The marshes were dreary, foggy and misty, drab and treacherous. The travellers followed the grey heron step for step, being careful not to deviate from the tortuously narrow trail. Either side of them, mosshung branches stuck up like spectral limbs from the greendark ooze that exuded occasional bubbles and wisps of swamp gas. The only sign that evening was approaching was that the atmosphere grew decidedly gloomier. The Warden halted at a juncture where two paths crossed to form a wooded islet. They sat down in the damp grass as the grey heron looked about.

"Camp here tonight, travel tomorrow."

Grumm took out his ladle and set about snapping dead twigs. "Hurr, thank gudness fur that. C'mon, Pallum, lend ee thoi paw yurr."

The piercing eyes of the Warden stopped them in their tracks. "What do you do?"

"Make zoop, zurr." Grumm waved his ladle about, chuckling. "Per zoop you'm need a foire. You'm loik moi zoop."

"I do not know zoop. Make no fire. I am the law. I do not like fire!"

Somewhere nearby a frog croaked in the marsh. The Warden followed the direction of the sound with his savage eyes. He swallowed hungrily. "Stay here, do not move. Frogs are about. They are lawbreakers. I am the law, I will deal with them!"

He stalked off into the darkening mists. When he was out of sight, Pallum gave a short, humorless laugh. "Looks to me like the law wants its supper."

Rose was unpacking rations. "What a dreadful idea!" she shuddered.

Martin helped her prepare their meal. "Maybe so, but without the Warden of Marshwood Hill we'd have been lizard lunch today. The bird is a necessary evil, believe me."

Rose laid out two fruit flans, some hazelnut scones and the last canteen of mint and lavender cordial. The food was a bit battered and squashed but still very tasty. Rose laughed as they watched the dipper pecking furiously at a scone.

"Oh look, Martin, Dipper's really enjoying himself. I'll bet he's never tasted anything as nice."

The tiny bird sprayed them with crumbs as he attempted to communicate his pleasure to his newfound friends.

"Goodiz, goodiz!"

After supper, the dipper whistled and chirped happily. When he had finished they applauded him. Martin lay back, sipping at the tangy cordial.

"Wish I could sing like that. I've got the worst singing voice in the world. Come on, Rose, sing something to cheer us up in this gloomy marsh."

The mousemaid obliged willingly, her wondrous clear voice ringing melodiously into the deep marshland night.

"O happy is as happy does,

Misery never useful was,

And I am happy now because

I'm with the ones I love.

Sing fol lol loh a lairy lay,

Let the sun shine bright all day,

So I'll go happy on my way

With the good ones that I love.

O fie on you, O great disgrace,

Look at that sad unhappy face,

I'll not walk with you, not one pace,

You're not the one I love.

Sing dumble dum and derry dee,

You'll have to smile to come with me,

Till happiness doth let you see

You're the one that I love!"

The dipper chirped appreciatively as they applauded. Grumm shook his head admiringly. "Oi loikes that un, Miz Roser. Allus makes oi feel loike darncen!"

Rose gave the mole a playful shove. "Well come on, old Grummchops, it's ages since I saw you dance!" Grumm stuck his digging claws in his ears, rolling from side to side with embarrassment. "Ho no, oi'm no gurt shakes at 'ee darncen. You'm papa allus used to larff when oi darnced."

"Well, papa's not here now, so you'll danceor we'll tell the Warden that you've been making fun of him!"

Rose picked up Grumm's ladle and shook it at him in mock anger.

"Ho no, you'm wudden do a thing loik that."

"Oh yes she would!" Martin and Pallum chorused together.

Grumm stood up, shuffling his paws. "Hurr, s'pose oi better sing 'n' darnce then. You'm awful crool beasts."

Rose could see that the mole wanted to sing and dance. "Come on, Grummyface, do your party piece, the one about your old grandfather. I like that one."

Mole dancing is a curious spectacle and is invariably accompanied by singing. Grumm held up his digging claws and did a small hopskip,

"Naow Granfer were a pow'ful mole.

Scratch a tunnel dig an 'ole,

The moightiest eater, so oi'm tole,

In all of all 'ee wuddlands.

You'm should've seen him eaten cake.

Granmum said, fer gudness sake,

Oi'll start 'ee oven up to bake

An' twelveteen cakes oi'll make.

If Granfer ate wun, him ate two,

Ho dearie me, oi'm tellen you,

Him ate those twelveteen cakes roight throo,

Then went asleep till zummer.

An' when 'ee zummer sun did break,

My ole granfer came awake,

The gudd ole beast drinked all 'ee lake

An' left 'ee fishes sobbin'.

Him'n story as oi've toald to you,

Oi swears as every wurd be troo,

Iffen you'm think oi tole fibs to you,

Then go an' arsk 'ee fishes!"

Rose, Pallum and Martin were falling about laughing as Grumm took a bow. He was puffing from the exertion of song and dance combined.

The Warden appeared as if from nowhere. He stared hard at Grumm and shook his head once. "Good at putting out fire, not at singing. Mouse Rose is the best singer. I know this. Sleep now! Dipper, you go back to your family nest!"

Sometime before dawn Martin stirred. Vague muffled sounds had gradually wakened him. He lay awhile taking stock of their hostile surroundings. The muffled sounds continued. Rolling over slowly, he checked the sleeping forms of Rose, Grumm and Pallum. They were deep in slumber, breathing peacefully. Martin's eyes strayed over to where the grey heron was lying. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but he sensed that something was not right. He peered long at the bird, his paw straying to the short sword stuck in the ground near his head. The Warden appeared to be rolling about in his sleep, making muffled noises.

Slowly Martin rose until he was crouching. Placing his paws carefully among the damp grass tussocks, he edged over. Something slimy slapped him in the face as he reached the moving figure of the Warden. There were dark shapes all over the great bird, and it was moving more slowly and weakly As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, Martin saw that creatures he could not make out were strangling the grey heron, winding about its neck while others secured its legs and wings.

So that was what the muffled noises were. They must have been attacking the Warden for some time because the big bird's struggles were very weak. Martin threw himself into the fray with a shout that wakened his three friends instantly.

"Yaaaaah, Maaaaartin!"

24

It was getting towards evening and shadows were beginning to lengthen on the shoreline as Brome climbed down from the cliffs. Ahead of him he could see Wulpp, the searat who had taken Felldoh's javelin through his footpaw, limping along by himself. Suddenly Brome had an idea that might gain him entrance into Marshank. He padded silently up until he was almost level with Wulpp.

"Hi there, mate. You the beast they left be'ind?"

Wulpp sat down on the sand, wincing as he nursed his paw. "Aye that's me. What's yer name, matey?"

Brome sat down by him and began ripping a strip from his shirt. "Harr, I'm Bucktail. Cap'n sent me back for ye. I was walkin' along the clifftops when I saw you down 'ere. 'Old still while I binds that paw up fer ye, messmate."

Wulpp gritted his teeth as Brome worked. "Aagh, it 'urts bad, Bucktail. Wot d'ye think, will it give me a limp for the rest o' me life?"

"More'n likely, bucko." Brome nodded as he tied the improvised bandage off neatly. "You was lucky it didn't catch you 'igher, or you'da been a goner. Come on, mate, up on yer paws. I'll give yer a lift back to the fortress."

Hopping on one paw, the injured searat threw an arm about Brome's shoulders and leaned on him as they made their way slowly back. "Bucktail, eh. Well my name's Wulpp, an' I won't fergit yer fer the 'elp you've give me this day, messmate."

They entered the fortress as darkness fell. Nobeast paid much attention to them both. The main center of attraction was the continuing feud between the two leaders. Clogg sat on the courtyard stones, surrounded by his crew as he tore ravenously at hard bread and dried fish, guzzling seaweed ale from an oversized tankard. Badrang stood on the porch of his longhouse, haranguing the corsair.

"Now let me get this right, one creature, a single squirrelmaid at that, killed three of your great hairy waverobbers and wounded another. Well, lack a season and lose a day!"

Clogg hurled a hard crust at Badrang. It fell short. "Harr go an' boil yer 'ead, stoatears. You was safe enough inside o' yer fancy fortress surrounded by yer lubbernosed 'orde!"

Badrang leaned over the porch rail, his voice mocking. "And what, pray, was the dreaded Cap'n Tramun Clogg doing while this dreadful slaughter took place? Hiding from the squirrelmaid?"

Clogg's nose glinted purple with rage as he spat out dried fish. "It weren't no squirrelymaid did the killin', it was those excaped slaves o' yourn throwin' javelins, an' by the way they could throw I'd 'ate t' be in yer shirt if they attacks 'ere!"

The Tyrant spread his paws appealingly to the listeners. "Why should they come back here after escaping? Strikes me they'd want to put as much distance between themselves and Marshank as possible. By the way, how's your ship refloating coming along?"

A slow smile spread across Clogg's villainous face. "Much the same as yer stone quarryin' an' field croppin', me ole messmate. 'Ave yer done much empire buildin' today, haharrharr?"

Stung by the taunt that had rebounded on him, Badrang pointed his sword at the corsair. "I'll remind you that you're eating my food, Clogg, and your worthless mob of seascum are filling their bellies at my expense too. But all that's going to change. From now on if you want to eat our supplies at Marshank you'll have to earn your food like any of my creatures!"

Clogg hurled the tankard. It smashed on the ground in front of Badrang as the corsair bellowed defiantly, "We ain't yer creatures, me an' my crew is seabeasts, rovers an' freebooters. We're 'onourin' you by takin' our meals 'ere 'cos you owe us that much, you boatburnin' barnacle. We'd 'ave sailed off from this fort long since but for yer treachery!"

Brome threw a paw about Wulpp, steering him towards the walls of the slave compound. "C'mon, mate, let's find someplace for you to sit easy. We can't stand around listenin' to those two stoats jawin' each other to death while yer paw's injured bad."

They sat with their backs against the wooden fence. "Harr, 'tis rest you need, Wulpp." Brome spoke loudly on purpose. "A good deep sleep'd do you a power o' good, matey. Sleep, the best healer of all!"

Wulpp did not argue. He was weary and his footpaw throbbed relentlessly. Closing his eyes, he lay back.

"Right you are, Bucktail. I feel like I could sleep fer a season!"

Keyla had been listening to the two creatures on the other side of the fence. Curiosity overcame the young otter, and he was not long in climbing the timbers to peer over the top at the pair.

Brome made sure that Wulpp's eyes were closed and they were not being observed, then he swept the floppy hat from his head and grinned cheekily up at Keyla.

Holding up a warning paw, he pointed at Wulpp, stroking the searat's head gently and crooning in a soft voice, "Sleep, matey. You need a long deep sleep, long an' deep."

Keyla understood. He gave a broad wink and disappeared.

Brome continued speaking soothingly to the halfasleep Wulpp. "Sleep, matey, that's all you need, sleepy sleep sleep ..."

Wulpp's eyelids flickered. He glanced at Brome and smiled lazily. "Bucktail, me ole matey, you looks like some kind o' mouse without yore hat on ..."

Assisted by a mouse named Yarrow, Keyla popped up over the compound top. Between them they held a big improvised sandbag.

Whump!

Wulpp's head was a target they could not miss. The heavy object landed forcefully, knocking the searat out like a light.

"He's got enough on his mind to keep him asleep a good while," the irrepressible Keyla giggled. "Brome, what are you doing back here, friend?"

The young mouse clamped his floppy hat back on. "I've come to get you and the rest away from here, Keyla, though I thought you'd have escaped with the last lot."

The young otter shook his head. "I could have, but there's old ones and some babes here that weren't quick enough to get away. I couldn't hop it and leave them just because I was young and fast, now could I?"

Brome propped Wulpp's head on the sandbag as if it were a pillow. "You're a good otter, Keyla. Listen, here's the plan. We'll get them all out between us, tonight."

Gurrad watched as Badrang poured poison into a flagon of blackberry grog.

"Great seasons, Sire, there's enough in there to lay an army out!"

Badrang shook the small vial to make sure the last drops went in. "Clogg could never resist a drop of blackberry grog. It'll be his last drop, laced with wolfbane and hemlock. There's not a creature born who could drink that and live to tell the tale." He pulled Gurrad close, his voice a sinister hiss. "Listen now, rat. Here's what you must do!"

The rat called Oilback threw his knife. It zipped through the air to bury itself deep in the driftwood spar set up on the beach. Cap'n Tramun Clogg grunted as he tugged the quivering blade free and returned it to its owner.

"Good throw, matey. I likes to see a beast who's skilled at slingin' a frogsticker. Do it agin, Oilback."

The searat twirled his knife expertly, closed one eye, sighted and threw hard. This time the blade went a third of its length into the timber. Clogg clapped his back heartily.

"Haharr, yore a murderer born, Oilback. Now cock a lug, matey, an' listen to a liddle plan that I've arranged fer that stingy grubswipin' former partner o' mine .. ."

The moon appeared over Marshank, casting pale light and deep shadow over the fortress where three separate schemes were being laid, two for death and one for freedom.

Brome hastily rearranged his corsair gear. There was little difference in the illassorted rags worn by Clogg's pirates and those of Badrang's soldiers and in no time Brome looked every inch the hordebeast. Keyla did the same, improvising with Wulpp's tawdry rags.

Minutes later, two ruthless hordebeasts marched straight past the guards and into the slave compound.

"Stay at the rear and help any stragglers," Brome signalled to Yarrow. "Righto, listen friends, all you have to do is follow Keyla and me. If anybeast stops or challenges us, don't you say a word, leave the talking to me.

Stay in the shadows as much as possible, don't hurry too much and above all, be silent!"

They set off towards the main courtyard with Brome and Keyla leading the group.

Badrang corked the flagon, shaking it well before he gave it to Gurrad.

"See if they're asleep, don't chance it otherwise. If everything is all right, then sneak up close to Clogg. He's usually sleeping near to the largest campfire. Place the flagon in his paw, or as close as you can get to it. That stupid plaited buffoon doesn't care what he drinks. When he wakes in the morning the flagon will be the nearest thing to him. He'll pop the cork and guzzle it right off. I know him of old. Go now. I'm trusting you to do the job right, Gurrad."

Swathed in a dark cloak, the rat left the longhouse.

Standing in the shadows at the side of the longhouse was another cloaked figure. Oilback held his knife by the blade, ready to throw. The doorway area was illuminated in a patch of moonlight. His paw trembled a little from the tension of waiting and the enormity of his task. It was not just any common crewbeast that got to kill Lord Badrang, the Tyrant of Marshank. No, it was he, Oilback, the best knifethrower in all Cap'n Clogg's crew.

He heard the creak of the door as it opened. Tightening his grip on the blade, he closed one eye and took aim. A cloaked figure stole out, shutting the door carefully behind it. Oilback grunted with exertion as he hurled his weapon.

It was a good throw. The cloaked figure collapsed silently off the porch. Oilback hurried forward. Retrieving his knife from Gurrad's throat, he wiped the blade, giving a low snarl of dismay when he saw the dead features of the creature he had slain. It was not Badrang!

His footpaw struck somethinga flagon of wine. Never being one to pass up a free gift, he rammed it into his runic and turned to run away. It was at that exact moment Brome was passing with the slaves. Oilback ran slapbang into Brome.

There was a moment's silence as they confronted each other, then Brome said in a quiet but commanding tone, "What are you doing around here?"

Oilback answered hesitantly, thinking fast as he did. "Er, oh, I'm, er, gettin' rid of this dirty spy for Lord Badrang. He's one o' those corsairs. I caught 'im 'angin' about 'ere!"

Brome nodded. "Good!"

He was about to turn away when Oilback became suspicious. "Just a moment, mate. What are you doin' wid that bunch?"

Keyla stepped in boldly. "If it's any of your business, we're puttin' them in the prison pit. Lord Badrang doesn't want this lot escapin' like the others. He wants 'em down the pit where he can keep an eye on 'em!"

The corsair was slightly taken aback by Keyla's aggressive stance. "Oh, er, right. Well I'll bid ye good night."

Unfortunately they were both travelling in the same direction. Keyla and Brome were forced to walk along with Oilback, who was heading for the main gate, which lay in the same direction as the prison pit. They walked in silence with the slaves following.

Oilback glanced at the thirty creatures. "Yore gonna have a job on yer paws gettin' all them down that pit. They'll be standin' on each other's 'eads."

"Do em good!" Brome sniffed officiously. "We're not here to argue, we carry out our Leader's orders an' don't ask too many questions."

The searat nodded agreement. "Aye, that's all the likes of us can do, eh, mate!"

Though the gates of Marshank were open to the corsairs camped on the shore, there was still a sentry posted on top of the wall. It was the ferret Bluehide. He saw the slaves being led to the pit and called down, "What in the name of frogfeathers are you doin' down there?"

Oilback winked at Keyla and shouted back arrogantly, "What does it look like we're doin', takin' a swim?"

Bluehide shook his spear. "Leave that gratin' alone. All those beasts can't fit down there. Besides, there was three escaped from that pit!"

Brome sighed wearily. Placing paws on hips, he called out in an insulting manner, "It's none of your business how many slaves Lord Badrang wants us to put in the pit. And another thing, those three wouldn't have escaped if the sentry that night had been keepin' an eye on this grating. They broke out by movin' it."

Bluehide fixed his eyes on the grating, leaning his elbows on the walltop. "Well, they won't escape from there tonight while I'm watchin'."

"You weren't put up there to watch gratings, slophead." Keyla called out in a stern voice. "It's your job to keep a close eye on those corsairs on the shore!"

Now Bluehide was completely confused. Keyla chuckled as he slapped Oilback heartily across the shoulders. "Ha ha ha! That showed him, eh, matey?"

Oilback continued on his way, laughing falsely as he answered. "Ho ho ho! It certainly did, mate. I'll just take a look out there meself. You can't trust corsairs y' know!"

Keyla and Brome waited until Bluehide had his back to them on the wall top, then shifted the heavy grating to one side.

"Whew, that was a close thing!" the young mouse murmured under his breath.

Outside in the shadow of the wall, Oilback wiped sweat from his nose, muttering silently to himself. "Whew, that was a close thing!"

He uncorked the flagon and took a deep drink to calm his nerves.

* * *

Brome and Keyla ushered the freed slaves into the pit and then climbed in after them, pulling the grating shut over them once they were in.

An old mousewife called Geum started to complain aloud. "It's stuffy down here. I'm stuck like a pea in a pod. Why did we have to come into this dirty place?"

Brome was thumping the walls to find the opening. "Hush, Mother, this is the way we're going to escape. Keep your voice down."

But Geum was not about to be quiet. "The main gate was open. Why didn't we just go out that way? And don't call me mother, cheekyface. I'm not your mother!"

Keyla clamped a paw across her mouth. "Silence, you old scold! Brome knows what he's doing. We wouldn't stand a lame sea bird's chance of walking through Clogg's crew to freedom. This way we'll come up between some rocks beyond their camp. Have you found the opening yet, Brome?"

A shower of loose earth and some pieces of driftwood fell on to the heads of Keyla and Geum.

"Hahah! Here it is," Brome cried excitedly. "For a moment I wasn't sure I could find it. Good old Grumm, he did a great job disguising his tunnel. I'll go first. Keyla, you and Yarrow help the others in and bring up the rear. We'll have to move fast, there's not many hours left until dawn. The last thing we want is to be caught out on the open shore."

It took a considerable time to get all the slaves into the tunnel. They pushed up against each other in the darkness, infants began whimpering and Geum started to complain again.

"Ugh! It's dark and stuffy down here. I don't like it!"

Yarrow shoved her further along from behind. "None of us are exactly joyful about being down here, old one. Just keep going, and put a latch on your lip. You're upsetting the little ones."

Geum's dignity was offended. "Stop pushing me, you young rip, and mind how you speak to your elders. Oh dear, there's sand falling on the back of my head."

Brome crawled as fast as he was able to. Hearing Geum's last statement added to his haste. He knew the tunnel was only a makeshift affair and could collapse at any moment, particularly now, with the added disturbance of thirtyodd creatures blundering their way through it. Suddenly, just when he thought he was at the end of the tunnel, Brome found he could crawl no farther. The young mouse let out a groan into the thick air.

The tunnel had caved in at the exit end. They were trapped!

25

Rose was wakened by Martin's cry and the great feathered bulk of the grey heron rolling over her. Something brushed by her. She felt slithering scales and kicked out at them.

Martin was locked in the coils of some reptilian creature, what it was he did not know. It felt like a snake, but it had more than one head and tail. Stabbing viciously with his short sword, he was rewarded by the sound of anguished hissing as the coils fell away from him. Nearby Grumm swung out with his ladle and caught something hard on the skull. It went limp. Pallum hung on grimly to a third sinuous shape as Rose battered it with a supply pack. Martin felt another reptile at his back. Swinging sharply, he slashed crosswise and stabbed down twice. The creature was instantly slain.

Rose was still hitting with the pack as she cried out in the darkness, "Fire, Grumm. Make fire!"

The mole fumbled for flint and tinder as Martin found Rose and Pallum in the darkness. Afraid to use his sword in such close proximity to them, he dropped it and went headlong at the creature they had been trying to tackle. Butting, punching and kicking like a mad beast, Martin rendered the thing senseless.

There were no more opponents to fight. They stood still while sparks flew and Grumm could be heard blowing on the tinder. Suddenly there was a small flame. The mole fed it with dry grass and twigs. In the ensuing firelight they viewed the attackers and the attacked. It was the two slowworms they had first seen on entering the marshes. They were both dead, slain by Martin, and lying stunned close by was an enormous grass snake and a young adder.

Grumm shuddered violently. "Surrpints!"

Pallum scrambled over to the limp figure of the Warden. "I think they've killed him!"

Rose was at his side instantly. "Let me take a look."

As she inspected the big bird, Martin called Pallum and Grumm to help him. Between the three of them they heaved the bodies of the four reptiles into the deep ooze of the marsh.

"Over here! This bird is alive!"

Rose was massaging the Warden's long neck. His eyelids fluttered feebly as she rubbed skillfully. One of the heron's eyes opened momentarily. "I am the laaaaaww!" it managed to croak.

The mousemaid put a paw to its beak. "Yes I know. Be still now, those snakes nearly strangled you. Grumm, put some water on to heat and see if you can find some soft moss and herbs to make a poultice."

As dawn broke over the little camp, Rose sat nursing her patient. The Warden was a fierce bird, quick to recover and hard to keep still. She had bound his neck with a warm soothing poultice of moss and herbs, checking the rest of him to assure herself that the young adder had not struck him.

"You'll be all right, the adder didn't bite you. Warden, please lie still. Your neck was badly squeezed. Try not to move it."

The grey heron tried to rise but fell back croaking hoarsely, "Snakes are lawbreakers. I will punish them. I am the law!"

Grumm looked up from the soup he was making. "Doant you'm never be soilent, burd? Close thoi gurt beak. Hurr!"

As they were held up by the Warden's injuries, breakfast was a leisurely affair. Pallum roasted some vegetables, leek, pennycress, and shallots. Grumm made excellent wild celery and herb soup then experimented on some barley scones. The Warden became so fierce when Pallum tried to feed him soup that the hedgehog hid behind Grumm. "I don't think he likes your soup."

Grumm shook his ladle at the heron. "Doant be natural, creetur not loikin' moi zoop. He'm never grow big 'n' strong loik oi."

"I am Warden of Marshwood Hill. Warden does not eat zoop!"

"Oh, goo an' boil thoi 'ead, gurt burdbag!"

Rose was surprised at the Warden's powers of recovery. Barely halfway through the morning he was up and walking as he conversed with Martin. The young mouse told him the story of what had taken place in the night. The big bird glared savagely at him.

"I thank you. Martin is mouse warrior, but you must learn!"

"Learn what?"

"Learn to kill all lawbreakers. Two snakes not dead!"

"But I threw them in the swamp."

"Next time kill first, then they will never break the law again!"

The Warden was inflexible when dealing with lawbreakers.

By noon they were back on the path again, travelling behind the Warden. Rose was mentioning to Martin that the mists were beginning to clear and sunlight was now plainly visible filtering through, when Pallum called, "Ahead, look up!"

There was the mountain. Rising above the mists into the summer day, it towered in solitary splendor, the lower slopes clad in verdant pine, rising to shrub and wild lupin, which gave way to naked dunhued rock all the way to its majestic peak.

Grumm shielded his eyes with a digging claw, peering up. "Well, dig moi tunnel! Us'ns got t' cloimb yon gurt 'ill?"

The Warden halted, fixing them with his fierce eye. "You can see the mountain?"

Rose nodded her head, awed at the sight. "We surely can. Have we got to climb over it?"

The heron stood on one leg. "No, only halfway. Do you see the cave?"

The four friends searched the rocky mass, straining their eyes. Martin looked at Rose and shrugged before turning to the Warden. "We cannot see a cave, but if you say it is there then we believe you. Halfway up, you said."

The Warden nodded. "Yes, halfway up. It is a runnel through the mountain. Now I must leave you. These are my marshes. I am the law here. I stay."

With an awkward hopskip he took to the air, wings beating until he caught a thermal. Swooping over them, the bird called out, "You saved my life. I will not forget this. You are not lawbreakers. Maybe I will be able to help you someday. I go now. Goodbye!"

As he swooped away, Rose cried aloud, "Thank you for your help. Besides the cave, is there anything else we should look out for when we climb the mountain?"

Wheeling in a halfturn, the heron called a final message, "Ask Boldred, the mountain is not mine. These are my marshes and I alone am the laaaaaaaawwwwwww!"

With that, the Warden of Marshwood Hill was gone, soaring above his domain of treacherous ooze and reptilian subjects.

In the late afternoon they came out of the marshlands. Crossing a stretch of dry scrub country, the four travellers stopped at the fringe of pines in the mountainous foothills. It was green and shady where Martin decided they would camp.

"We'll rest here until the morning before attempting to climb the mountain. A good meal and a long sleep is what we need."

Grumm shook the food packs out, his homely face a picture of dismay as he took stock of their supplies. "Burr, 'ardly any vittles left!"

Two wizened apples, a few pawfuls of wheat flour, one or two candied nuts and three raspberry scones were all that remained of Polleekin's good food. The mole shook their final canteen. "Lack a day, on'y arf full o' mint cordial!"

Rose chuckled as she prodded her friend's tubby little stomach. "Oh dearie me, Grumm Trencher, are you going to let us all starve and waste away to leaf shadows?"

Grumm polished his ladle vigorously with dry grass. "You'm a snip, Miz Roser, no mistake about that! Roight, oi'm taken charge yurr an' now. Pallum, surch furr veggibles, zurr Marthen, an' you'm, Miz Roser, lukk for water an' gather wudd. Oi'll see wot can be 'unted oop. Listen now, oi wants you'm all back yurr afore sunset. Be that clear?"

Pallum, Martin and Rose giggled as they whispered among themselves. Grumm waved the ladle at them. "Oi said, be that clear?"

They turned to him with serious faces, trying hard not to laugh as they stood stiffly to attention saluting.

"To hear is to obey, Lord Grumm!"

"We will not come back emptypawed, O Mighty One!"

"We are yours to command, for you are the law!"

They dashed off laughing, leaving Grumm polishing his ladle. "Oi doant see nuthin' funny. Vittles be serious, ho urr!"

Twilight found the four friends seated around a cozy little fire. Their foraging had proved extremely fruitful: apples, early wild plums and some green acorns, parsley, dandelion, wild oats and a piece of honeycomb, which Pallum had found floating in a small rivulet of icecold mountain water. There were also a few mushrooms and some watercress which had been growing by the rivulet. Grumm borrowed Martin's sword and used the blade to peel and chop. The others took their ease, laying back under a small spreading pine to watch him.

"Hurr, mushrooms 'n' cress goes with parsley 'n' danneeline," the mole explained as he prepared supper. "Chop up they green acorns too. Twill make gudd zoop, a'most thick as stew." He paused to rap Rose's paw with the ladle as she tried to steal a wild plum. "Gurroff, mizzy! Oi needs they, to put wi' last o' flour and woild oaters an' hunny. Chop 'ee apples vurry liddle. Pass oi yon flat stone, oi needs it furr moi asperimend."

Martin looked at Rose as he passed Grumm the flat thin rock. "Asperimend? What does he mean?"

"He means experiment. Grumm is always experimenting with food. He's very good, his experiments can turn out tasty."

The soup when it came was savory, and they blew on it as they sipped it from their scallop shells. Grumm had patted his mixture of wild plum, flour, oats, honey and apples into small round cakes that he cooked on the flat rock over the fire. The sweet smell wreathed round the camp as he turned off the first batch to cool in the grass. Taking one gingerly, he broke it, giving half to Rose. "Wot you'm think o' that, mizzy?"

The mousemaid juggled it in her paws, blowing on it as she took several quick nibbles. "Oh, Grumm, it tastes wonderful. So sweet and sticky!"

The mole wrinkled his snout in a satisfied manner. "Hurr, oi knew 't would. Oi'll make a couple o' batches an' we'll pack they'm furr rations. Oi 'opes oi c'n amember moi asperimend when we reaches 'ome to Noonvale."

Grumm gave them a cake apiece to eat after their soup. He was packing the rest of them away when a cracking of branches coupled with screams and wild laughter sounded close by. Before Martin could retrieve his sword from Grumm, a dozen or more young squirrels bounded into the camp, screeching, scrabbling and fighting. One of the creatures tripped and stumbled over Rose. He snapped at her and pushed her roughly as he struggled to rise. Martin was across to him in a twinkling. He dealt the squirrel a hefty blow and sent him sprawling again. Now the camp seemed to be full of wildlooking squirrels. They wore sashes of gaily colored barkcloth and had bird feathers fastened to their tails. Disregarding the four travellers, they fought and screeched all round them, ignoring the upset and discomfort they were causing. One creature grabbed hold of Grumm, using him as a shield to escape from another, who was trying, apparently, to steal the feathers from his tail.

Martin had stood enough. He did not want to kill any of them as they had not directly attacked him or his friends, but he was determined that they should be taught a lesson. Seizing Grumm's ladle, he dashed at the two who were whirling the mole about as one tried to catch the other.

Whopp! Thock!

Martin dealt out two stunning blows which sat the wild pair down flat on their tails. He brandished the ladle and roared, "Stop this! D'you hear me? Stoppit this instant!"

The squirrels halted, panting heavily and grinning at each other.

Martin shook the ladle, his voice stern and loud.

"You hooligans, what d'you mean by dashing in and wrecking our camp like this, eh? Have you no manners at all? You're like a mob of wild beasts!"

One squirrel grabbed a feather from the tail of another and hopped nimbly on to a low pine branch. "Hah! 'Snot your land, it's ours. We're the Gawtrybe, we do what we like. So there!" He stuck his tongue out impudently at Martin.

Pallum was quick. Leaping up, he caught the branch and twanged it, catapulting the squirrel onto the ground. The other squirrels thought this was hilarious and started doing it to each other, one leaping on a low branch as the other twanged it off.

Rose was furious. Placing her paws on her hips, she yelled at them, "Do you want me to call the Warden of Marshwood Hill?"

They stopped momentarily again, then started laughing as one of their number began imitating the grey heron's sticklike walk and doing a passable impression of the bird.

"I am the law, I slay all lawbreakers! Heeheehee, Warden can't touch us, he only rules the marshland, never comes up here!"

Rose drew herself up to her full height. "Then I'll tell

Boldred!"

All activity ceased. They looked around nervously, then one of them pulled an impudent face. "Yah, you can't, 'cos she's not here, look!" Jumping up and down, he chanted, "Boldred, Boldred, boulderhead old Boldred!" Spreading his paws wide, he smirked cheekily, "See, she's not here!"

With a series of wild whoops the squirrels sprang off into the trees, leaving the camp at peace once more. Martin stood listening to them as they shrieked and shouted off into the gathering night.

"The Gawtrybe, eh. I don't like that crowd one little bit. We'd best post a sentry tonight. I'll take first watch. Grumm, will you take second? You can use my sword."

The mole brandished his trusty ladle fearlessly. "Burr, this be all oi'll need furr they rarscally beasters!"

Rose placed damp wood on the fire to burn slowly through the night. She sat with her back against a pine and settled to rest. "Martin, did you notice how they stopped when I mentioned Boldred? I know they joked and clowned a bit, but they're obviously scared of her. I wonder who Boldred is and where we can find her."

Martin shouldered the small sword, his keen eyes questing around the nightcloaked woodland. "Your guess is as good as mine, Rose. I don't think we've seen the last of the Gawtrybe, though."

However, the night passed uneventfully for the four travellers, the wooded foothills remaining calm and peaceful. The following morning was presided over by a hot blue cloudless sky, promising even greater heat as the day progressed. They breakfasted sparingly on cold water and some of Grumm's invention cakes before setting off to scale the mountain.

Three hours after dawn, they left the forest, entering a country of sloping shale scree carpeted with shrub, fern and lupin. As they toiled upwards in the oppressive breezeless warmth, Martin gritted his teeth. Jibes and insults were coming at them from all around, though they saw no squirrels.

"Heehee, I'll tell the Warden on you!"

"Badmannered hooligans, camp wreckers!"

"Heehee, still no sign of Boldred!"

"Please, Boldred, save us from the Gawtrybe, heehee!"

Pallum clapped a paw to his ear. "Yowch! They're chucking pebbles at me!"

A small stone clacked off Martin's swordblade. He kept his eyes straight ahead, speaking in a voice strained by temper. "Ignore them, the stupid vermin!"

"Ignore them, the stupid vermin, heeheehee!" a voice echoed back at him.

The young mouse was about to pick up a pebble and hurl it back in the direction of the voice when Rose halted. She muttered urgently to him out of the side of her mouth, "Look up ahead!"

The way was blocked by about fifty Gawtrybe squirrels. One, larger than the rest and obviously some kind of chieftain, stood forward. He scuffed the ground with his paw and pouted like a naughty infant as he spoke. "This is Gawtrybe land. You've got to pay to pass through."

Martin eyed him levelly. "We have only some food for ourselves, nothing of any value. I am Martin the Warrior, this is Rose, Pallum and Grumm. Let us pass. We will be off your land by nightfall."

The squirrel leader did a mincing little dance, holding his paws together imploringly as he mocked, "Let us pass, please. Let us pass!"

Martin noticed that more squirrels had come up behind them, cutting off any chance of retreat. The leader squirrel had more feathers in his tailbrush than any of the others. He arched the bushy tail skillfully towards Martin.

"I am called Wakk, leader of the Gawtrybe. Give me your sword and I'll let you pass."

The young mouse's eyes were cold as he answered, "Nobeast takes this sword from me!"

Wakk puffed out his chest and made his tail stand straight. "Then I will fight you for it!"

Martin curled his lip derisively. "Oh, you'll fight, my friend, backed up by all your bunch, I suppose."

Wakk did not sneer or joke. He held up both paws to show he was not armed. "No no, we two will fight together, just me and you. None of my bunch will interfere. Give your sword to the mousemaid, and let's see how good you are without a weapon."

Instantly, the squirrels formed a large ring. As Martin passed the sword to Rose he had his back turned to Wakk.

"Look out, Martin!" Pallum shouted.

He thrust the sword into Rose's paws and whirled around to see Wakk hurtling through the air at him, teeth bared and claws outspread.

26

Trapped!

The word ran back like wildfire along the creatures packed into the escape tunnel, and panic took over in the dark airless place.

"We're all going to die down here. Help!" "Ooh, I knew we should never have tried to escape!" "I can't breathe. Let me out of here!" "At least we were alive in the stockade!" "It's that Brome's fault, the stupid young fool!" Something within Keyla snapped. Suddenly the young otter was crushing and pushing, lashing out as he climbed over heads, squeezing and scraping past other creatures, bashing out with all paws and his rudderlike tail as he battled towards Brome at the blocked exit.

"Gerrout of my way! I never came down here to suffocate an' die. Let me by, you stupid snivellin' moaners!" Bulling and pushing, kicking and shoving, the resourceful otter strove on through the packed airless tunnel until he felt Brome's corsair rags in his paws. "Brome, what's the matter. Why can't we get out?"

His face touching Keyla's, Brome yelled in the darkness, "We were nearly out, I'm sure of it, but the exit's caved in!"

The otter pushed him backwards into the press of wailing slaves. "Get out of my way and give me space. I'll get us out of here!" With a surge of strength born of desperation, Keyla threw himself at the blockage, all four paws going like windmills. Despite the screams and cries of outrage from behind, he tore, bit, gouged, kicked, dug and flailed at the sandy earth as it sprayed around him in gouts and showers. His shouts could be heard throughout the tunnel as he flung his body forward.

"Eeyaahhh! What d'ycm want? Somebeast to dig? I'll show you how Keyla digs! Like this! And this! Wahoooooooooo!" The otter's nose fountained blood as it struck a large rock. Keyla wrapped his whole body around it and yanked, grunting and squeezing past the rock, he savaged the loose earth, scraping, biting and thudding until his head burst through into the hole on the shore between the rocks. Wriggling out, Keyla spat earth, and wiped his mouth out with a paw. Chuckling quietly, he shook with delight.

"Haha, just shows what you can do when you feel like it!"

Brome leapt from the tunnel, casting aside his disguise and hugging Keyla tightly at the same time. "Keyla, you rogue, you did it, you got us free!"

Then it was Brome's turn to act sensibly. As he helped the first slaves out of the hole he issued instructions to Keyla.

"We were trapped down there quite a while. Time was lost, and it's not long until dawn. I'm going to run to the camp and get Felldoh with some others to help. I'll bring them back as quickly as I can. You must follow my pawprints, and move everybeast along as fast as you possibly can. Once the fortress is roused, Badrang will have his horde out after our blood!"

Dawn was crimsoning the grey from the sky as the ebb tide lapped gently on the shore. It was Bluehide's favorite time of day. He had catnapped most of the night through his sentry watch on the walltop of Marshank. Now he stretched gratefully in anticipation of breakfast and a sleep until noon. Shortly his relief arrived, another ferret called Stumptooth.

Bluehide passed the sentry spear over happily. "It's goin' t' be a scorcher of a day, mate. You'll sweat up 'ere."

Stumptooth took the proffered spear and leaned heavily on it. "Aye, yer right there, Blue'ide. Tain't fair, is it, me stannin' up 'ere on guard all day while those boneidle slaves lie round the compound scratchin' theirselves."

"Hoho, don't you fret yer 'ead about the slaves, Stumpy." Bluehide began climbing down a wall ladder. "They're all down the prison pit. 'Alf of 'em will be dead afore the day's through!"

Stumptooth was pushing past Bluehide on the ladder. "Slaves in the prison pit? I never seen any an' I looks down there every mornin' when I passes!"

Bluehide landed on Stumptooth's head. They bumbled down the ladder to fall in a heap at the bottom. Scrambling on all fours, they both raced to the pit. Bluehide's jaw went slack in dismay.

"But, but, they was there last night," he began explaining. "I saw 'em go down with me own eyes. It was two of our horde put 'em down there ..."

Stumptooth was not listening. He was dashing for the longhouse, screaming, "Escape! Escape! The slaves 'ave escaped!"

Badrang came thundering out, tripped over Gurrad's body, picked himself swiftly up and kicked the carcass badtemperedly. "Slaves escaped? How many? Where?"

"From the prison pit, Lord!"

"Prison pit, who put 'em down there?"

"I don't know, Sire. Blue'ide was on duty las-"

But Badrang was not listening, he was dashing about the courtyard yelling, "Hisk! Fleabane! Get the horde together. Now!"

Halfasleep weasels, ferrets and rats stumbled out, pulling their clothes on as they trailed weapons behind them. Badrang was in a towering fury. He lashed out with the flat of his sword.

"You halfbaked, slobberfaced slugs! Move! There still might be time to catch those slaves. Stir your stumps, you useless blatherbrained beasts. Filling your stomachs and resting your heads is about all you lot are good for!"

Hisk and Fleabane scuttled about, echoing their master's threats and insults, not quite sure of what they were supposed to do.

The Tyrant returned to Gurrad's carcass. Obviously Clogg had forestalled the assassination attempt. He would get rid of the body before Clogg saw it and started gloating. Grabbing a passing rat, Badrang snarled, "You, Nipwort, bring that thing and follow me."

Nipwort struggled along behind Badrang, dragging the limp figure as he tried to keep up.

With a frenzied burst of energy, the Tyrant stoat dragged the grating from the pit. Lying flat, he thrust his head in and could not fail to see the escape hole. "Here, Nipwort. Leave the body there and climb into this pit. See that hole in the side of the wall? Get yourself in there and see how far it goes. Report back to me when you find out where the exit is."

Before going to attend his horde, Badrang watched the unhappy Nipwort climb into the escape tunnel. When the rat was lost to view, Badrang pushed Gurrad's body into the pit and replaced the grating with a swift heave.

Tramun Clogg had been up and about before Badrang that day, anxious to know the result of his murderous plan. When Gruzzle and Boggs reported the rinding of Oilback's body, Clogg knew the scheme had failed. Hastily they disposed of the poisoned rat, tossing him into the sea. Clogg had his crew stand by fully armed lest Badrang should come seeking revenge for the attempt on his life.

Crosstooth the fox took a swift glance toward Marshank's open gates. "Stand by, Cap'n. 'Ere comes Badrang with trouble aplenty!"

Tramun stood prepared as the Tyrant and his horde pounded out across the shore. However, his keen ears caught the drift of what Hisk and Fleabane were shouting.

"Double quick, you lot. Come on there, Lord Badrang wants every last one o' those slaves back!"

"Aye, if you don't catch those escapers you'll find yourselves doing their work. So move!"

Clogg sheathed his cutlass, chewing thoughtfully on a beard plait as an idea formed in his sly fertile mind. "Ho buckoes, put up yer weapons an' foller me!"

With a look of concern on his villainous face, the corsair ran towards Badrang, calling out aloud, "Ahoy, matey. Wot's the trouble?"

The Tyrant stoat halted, glaring suspiciously at Clogg. "Didn't you know? The rest of the slaves escaped during the night!"

Horror and indignation stamped themselves on the corsair's features. "Why, the rotten bunch o' scallawags! I'll never get me new ship built now. Badrang, matey, let's call a truce between us until we catch 'em. Which way d'you reckon they went?"

Badrang could not waste time bandying words with his old adversary. He realized he would need all the help he could get to recapture the slaves. "They've probably headed south and to the cliffs. That's the way we're going."

Clogg stroked the braids on his chin thoughtfully. "Aharr, maybe that's wot they wants you to think, mate. Maybe they went north to fool ye. I'll take my crew that way."

Before Badrang could reply, Clogg had hauled out his cutlass and was running north along the shore with his corsairs. "Come on, you flotsam. If ye ever want to feel a deck neath yer paws agin, you'll 'ave to find them scummy slaves!"

Badrang led his horde off to the south at a lively run.

Nipwort emerged from the escape tunnel. Dusting himself down, he climbed on to the rocky outcrop to get his bearings. The tracks were clear. Shading his eyes against the morning sun, Nipwort scanned the shoreline. He saw the unmistakable form of a group in the distance. They were hurrying towards the cliffs. Turning round, the rat could see Badrang and the horde running in his general direction. Jumping up and down, he waved frantically.

"Over here, Lord! I can see them!"

Ballaw, Rowanoak, Buckler and Felldoh, in company with ten or more of the most ablebodied free slaves, jogged along the clifftop behind Brome. Felldoh looked grim as he muttered to the hare, "What a reckless little fool Brome is. He could have been captured at Marshank or smothered in that tunnel!"

Ballaw hefted his lance lightly. "Matter of opinion, old lad. If you fail you're a bally fool, if you win you're a jolly hero!"

Rowanoak puffed along behind them, towing the cart. "Ballaw's right. I'd say if he pulls this off he's a reckless hero; who would have thought it, young Brome!"

Brome stopped. Pointing down to the shore he yelled proudly, "There they are!"

Felldoh's eyes roved further afield. "Aye, and look who's following on the double!"

Rowanoak gave a great groan of dismay. "There's far too many of them for us. Our only hope is to get those poor creatures on to the clifftop up here before the horde gets to them. Come on, let's give it a try!"

Stout vine ropes were anchored to rocks and thrown over the steep cliff slope. Ballaw roared to the slaves, projecting his voice magnificently, "I say, you chaps. Over here!"

Felldoh and some others shinned hurriedly down the ropes on to the shore, and ran to help the stragglers. Buckler threw his paws about an old mousewife, glancing back at the pursuers. "They be comen on apace. Oi doant think us'ns ull make et!"

Badrang's paws slapped hard on the strand as he put on a great burst of speed, calling to his horde, "Come on, we've got 'em!"

Old Geum grasped the rope. Gazing upwards, she pursed her lips. "I'll never be able to haul myself up there. What d'you think I am, a young squirrel?"

"I don't know about a young squirrel, Mother, but you'll be a dead mouse if you hang about here!"

Felldoh threw Geum across his shoulder with a single heave and began hauling himself up the rope.

Buckler and six others launched a salvo of short javelins directly at the horde. Four of Badrang's creatures fell. The rest parted ranks, spreading themselves to avoid being hit. All of the escapers were now on the ropes, scrambling up the steep cliff face, fear of their pursuers and the scent of freedom lending speed to their paws. Felldoh had delivered Geum and hopped back down without using the ropes. Now he was on his way back up with two small young ones clinging to his tail. Buckler and the others were backed up hard to the cliffside as the horde advanced on them. Two had been brought down by spears from Badrang's creatures. Rowanoak looked worriedly down as she called to them, "Get on the ropes! Come up here!"

Brome and those on the clifftop began hurling javelins and slingstones to cover their friends' retreat.

Badrang dashed forward as Buckler began scrambling up the rope. He picked up a fallen javelin and hurled it.

The mole cried out in agony as it took him through the shoulder.

"Hold tight, Buckler, hold tight!" Rowanoak bellowed furiously as she seized the rope in both paws and heaved mightily.

Badrang leaped for the rope but found himself grasping dust. Despite the fact that there were six others climbing the rope above Buckler, the strength of Rowanoak's tremendous pulls made the whole thing fairly fly up. She dashed backwards, muscles straining, as she towed the taut vine rope behind her. It hummed and sang under the tension, sending creatures who were clinging to it flying along the clifftop on their stomachs. Ballaw pulled the javelin from Buckler's shoulder. "How are you doin', old scout?"

The mole winced then smiled. "Take more'n a likkle ole spear to slay oi!"

"Ballaw, they're climbing the other ropes!" Brome's shouts brought Ballaw to the cliff edge. Badrang was standing on the shore, directing his creatures upwards. "Get on those ropes, the rest of you start climbing. Come on, we can swarm them. They're too few to stop us! Move, you dolts, get climbing."

Felldoh pulled the last slave over the clifftop. Below him he could see ferrets, rats and weasels scaling the remaining four ropes, while the rest were climbing up, spurred on by Badrang.

Rowanoak joined Felldoh and stood watching. "Let them get a bit closer to us then I'll move."

"Move what?" Felldoh looked at the badger quizzically.

"Those four large boulders the ropes are tied to, of course!"

Ballaw waggled his ears expressively. "Should give the rotters somethin' to think about, wot! Let's do it now before they get any further. I'll get all the gang to lend a paw. Right, gather round, chaps, and I'll explain the drill."

Badrang was about to mount one of the ropes himself when he heard the ominous rumble from above. Leaping clear he shouted up, "Off! Get off the ropes! Back down, everybeast, quick!"

Some of the horde were almost at the top. They hesitated, looking at the long drop to the shore. Others clung to the cliff face, not knowing what to do.

Rowanoak threw her great bulk against the first boulder. It rolled quite freely. Ballaw and Felldoh had a thick branch under the next one. They levered down and the boulder began moving. Brome and some others charged the third boulder with the cart, setting it on the move as the stout little vehicle bumped it forward. Amid the screams and yells of panic as the first boulder came rumbling over the edge, Rowanoak dashed to the fourth and final one. She bulled into it with a deep growl. A ferret's head appeared over the clifftop as the boulder rolled forward. He gave a wail of dismay and flung himself into space.

The devastation caused by the four boulders was considerable. They tore huge chunks out of the cliff face as they bounced downwards, and several creatures tangled in the ropes attached to the boulders were given a fast, harsh sleigh ride on their backs down the steep slope. The less fortunate were crushed in the path of the great stones or caught by them as they bounced and thudded towards the shore.

Badrang had pulled a score of archers back. They knelt on the beach, directing a volley of shafts upwards. Cries from the clifftop told the Tyrant that his strategy was being rewarded.

As Rowanoak harnessed herself into the cart shafts, an arrow buried itself in the wood by her paw. "Time we weren't here, Felldoh. Can you and Ballaw get the slow and wounded in the cart double quick, please."

It was but the work of a moment. The cart trundled off at a fast lick, propelled by Rowanoak and every ablebodied creature.

"Cease fire, hold those bowstrings!"

Bluehide was the last to hear. He could not stop his arrow twanging off over the clifftop, nor could he avoid the swift kick from Badrang that sent him sprawling.

"What's the matter, cloth ears? Can't you tell that there's nobeast up there any more!" The Tyrant sighed heavily and sat on one of the boulders. "Hisk, Fleabane, count 'em up. How many did we lose?"

"Fifteen in all, Sire. About that many injured too."

"We got eight of theirs, though, and some more up on top must have been slain by arrows."

"Eight of theirs," Badrang snorted. "You mean eight of ours - they were my slaves. The only one of theirs was the mole. I got him, though I never got him good enough to finish him off."

The horde members sat about in silence, awaiting their leader's mood, which could range from indifference to foul bad temper.

Badrang watched them licking their wounds and retrieving their weapons. Then he summoned Hisk. "Take ten, make sure you've got a couple of good trackers. I want you to find where they've gone. When you do, report back to me at Marshank. Don't try to fight or even show yourselves, just come straight back to me with the information. Have you got that?"

Hisk saluted with his spear. "Yes, Lord. I will do exactly as you say!"

"Good. When they are least expecting it, we will come in full force and ambush them. They are not soldiers or warriors, merely escaped slaves and some ragtag actors who have been lucky so far."

Cap'n Tramun Clogg sat back in Badrang's chair, enjoying the comfort of the longhouse. He drank damson wine and picked his teeth with the bones of a herring he had eaten. His clogs clacked noisily as he swung his legs on to the tabletop and gave Crosstooth a huge wink.

"Brains, that's wot y'need to outsail yer enemies, brains!"

The fox shook his head admiringly. "An' you've certainly got 'em, Cap'n. You fooled ole Badrang!"

Clogg's huge stomach shook with merriment. "I'll 'elp ye to find the slaves, sez I. You go that way an' I'll go this way. Aye, an' this is the way I goes, straight round the back o' the fortress, over the wall with me bold crew, an' captures Marshank for meself. Haharrharharr. Is the gate locked, matey?"

Crosstooth poured himself a beaker of wine. "Locked, barred an' bolted tight, Cap'n. The crew is on the walls, well fed an' armed to the fangs!"

Clogg lost the fishbone in his stomach plaits and forgot it. "All waitin' for pore uncle Badrang to come visitin' with his tail atwixt 'is legs an' a flea in 'is ear. Hahaharr!"

27

Wakka, Chieftain of the Gawtrybe, was a savage fighter. Swift too, though not as swift as Martin the Warrior. The young mouse saw the squirrel hurtling through the air at him and danced nimbly to one side. Wakka hit the ground on all fours. Whirling fast, he was up and into Martin, setting his claws tight into Martin's sides, his sharp teeth seeking his opponent's throat as the bushy tail pushed itself stiflingly over the mouse's face. Martin bit into the tail hard, throwing himself backwards and shooting all four paws straight up. Wakka gave a shriek of pain and sailed over Martin's head, straight into a bunch of squirrels. Martin was up immediately. Joining both paws tight like a club, he swung out, knowing what the squirrels would do. They heaved their leader bodily back at the young mouse, hoping to crush him.

Whopp!

Martin's tightjoined paws cannoned straight into Wakka's nose. The squirrel sat down, licking away blood and seeing stars. His head cleared and he rushed Martin. This time he feinted slightly. As Martin leapt aside, Wakka went the same way and caught him. Locking his legs round the mouse's waist, the squirrel Chieftain clung like a limpet, scratching wildly at Martin's face. The young mouse winced as the foebeast's claws scored his cheeks deeply, trying to find his eyes. Martin threw himself forward, hitting the ground with Wakka beneath him. The breath was knocked from the squirrel in one gasp. Punishing him with another hard double pawblow to the nose, Martin was first up. With both paws held tight to his damaged nose, Wakka staggered up. Martin grabbed him, spun him around and leapt on to the squirrel's shoulders. Clamping his footpaws round Wakka's neck, Martin grasped both the squirrel's ears as tight as he could and pulled upwards.

The squirrel screamed in agony, jumping from side to side and trying to dislodge his tormentor, but Martin hung grimly on, jaw muscles rigid as he pulled the ears tighter and locked his legs harder. Wakka bucked and leaped all around the ring formed by his bunch as Martin rode him, pulling savagely until the tendons stood out on his paws. Half strangled and with his ears near pulled out by the roots, Wakka went down like a stone, dust rising around as both creatures hit the earth. Martin jumped free. Placing his footpaw on Wakka's head, he ground down hard, forcing the squirrel's injured nose into the dirt. The Chieftain of the Gawtrybe struggled feebly, sobbing for breath as Martin's paw stamped down harder.

The young mouse was breathing hard as he rasped out the question, "Have you had enough, squirrel? Because if you haven't, we can carry on until the death!"

"Gnurff! Gnurff!"

Rose ran out. Grasping Martin's paw, she cried piteously, "He's had enough. Don't kill him, Martin!"

The sound of Rose's voice brought Martin back to reality. Veils of red mist fell from his eyes and the Warrior's desire to kill left him. He allowed her to lead him back to his friends, and Grumm set about bathing his deepscored face.

The Gawtrybe had gone unusually silent. They broke the circle, leaving their beaten Chieftain deserted in the dust. The squirrels dispersed into the ferns and lupins, where they immediately began howling with laughter and playing again, some of them sitting on others' shoulders and pulling their ears as Martin had done to Wakka.

Pallum shook his head gravely. "Listen to that. What a bunch of savages!"

Rose applied strips of dockleaf to Martin's wounded face. "There, that's the best I can do for now. Let's get away from this place. I hate it, and those horrible wild squirrels too!"

The tall lupins and ferns provided some coolness against the heat of the day as they made their way to the mountain slope. It was Pallum who spotted the cave, high up above them on the dusty duncoloured mountain face it stood, like a single eye on some great beast.

Martin shook his head. "I doubt if we'll reach it by nightfall."

Rose was all concern for him. "Never mind if we don't, we can camp on the mountainside until morning and reach it tomorrow. There's no great rush, Martin. Take it slower. You must be tired after battling that big squirrel."

Martin touched his stinging cheeks. "Don't worry about me, Rose. I can walk as fast as anybeast."

The mousemaid put on a stern face. Stumping ahead, she imitated the Warden's sticklike gait as she mimicked the grey heron. "I say you will walk slower. I am the law!"

They fell about laughing and sat in the ferns while Grumm unpacked some of his invention cakes and a drink of water for each of them. Martin accidentally dozed off as Pallum was singing a little ditty.

"Oh, the hedgehog is a fine old beast,

All covered o'er with needles,

Not smooth, oh no, like some I know,

Eels an' fish an' beetles.

Some creatures calls us hedgepigs,

An' others says hedgedogs,

But I do know that frogs is frogs,

An' hedgehogs is hedge hogs!"

Rose held a paw to her lips. "Hush now, let him sleep awhile. He'll feel better for it."

It was getting towards late afternoon when Martin was wakened by the sound of Gawtrybe squirrels hooting and hallooing close by. He rubbed his eyes and noted the position of the sun in the sky.

"Oh no, have I been dozing the day away? We'll never make it to the cave tonight now!"

Rose gave him water to drink and redressed his face wounds. "Come on then, grumpy. Perhaps you'll be happier on the move."

Shadows were lengthening as they emerged from the ferns on to the scree and rocks of the actual mountain face. Again they found their way barred by large numbers of the Gawtrybe.

Pallum's bristles rose aggressively. "Not you lot again. What d'you want now?"

In the absence of their deposed Chieftain, they seemed to have several leaders.

"Wanna play!" one squirrel called out.

Rose eyed them frostily. "Well, we're not stopping you. Play as much as you like!"

"Heehee!" another squirrel sniggered. "No, we want you t' play!"

Martin drew his sword and took a pace towards them. "And supposing we don't want to play?"

"Heeheehee! Then the Gawtrybe kill you!"

It was then that Martin noticed many of the squirrels were holding axes made from a piece of shale tied in the notch of a heavy stick. He held up a paw. "Wait while I ask my friends."

The four travellers went into a huddle as Martin explained. "We'd last as long as a butterfly in a snowstorm trying to fight our way past that mob. I think we're going to have to play whatever stupid game they've thought up."

He could see that Rose was afraid, but she nodded. "Whatever you say, Martin. We're with you."

"Burr aye, iffen 'tis 'ee only way outen yurr, then so be el."

"You lead on, Martin. We trust you."

Martin smiled and patted Pallum carefully. Turning to face the waiting Gawtrybe, he addressed them.

"All right, we'll play your game. What do we have to do?"

"Heehee, you run and we chase you."

"That sounds like fun. Which way do we run?"

"Up the mountain, heehee!"

"Good, that was the way we were travelling, up the mountain. What happens next?"

"When we catch you ... Heehee ... We throw you off!"

Hatred for the Gawtrybe coursed through Martin's veins. He gripped his sword tighter but continued to smile as he spoke. "I don't think we're going to like this game. My friends and I could be killed."

Mass laughter greeted Martin's statement, many voices calling out from the bunch in imitation of him.

"We could be killed. Heehee!"

"What a nasty game. Heehee!"

Martin waited until the noise had subsided.

"Fair enough, we'll play," he continued in a reasonable voice. "But the Gawtrybe are squirrels, very strong, fleet of paw, very very fast!"

Cheers arose from the squirrels. They obviously enjoyed flattery.

Martin grinned cheerily, waving his paws for silence. "We are slow and weary. The game would not be much fun if you did not give us a start. Then it would be a really good game!"

Some of the squirrels started to chant. "Really good game, really good game, really good game!"

Martin pointed to a high ledge protruding some distance above them. "Let us climb to that ledge before you start chasing us. When we reach the ledge, I will shout Gawtrybe . That is your signal."

The squirrels changed their chant. "Gawtrybe! Gawtrybe! Gawtrybe!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Martin yelled aloud.

They took up his cry. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Rose was trembling slightly as the horde of wild squirrels leaped and danced in front of them, waving their stone axes and chanting fanatically. Grumm gazed up at the high ledge through the digging paws that were covering his eyes.

"Hoo urr, oi bain't a beast oo loiks 'igh places, hurr no, zurr."

Holding his sword at the ready, Martin took Rose's paw. "Pallum, Grumm, stay close and tread carefully. Come on. If we can make it up to that cave, I think well have a good chance of holding them off."

Martin led the way. It was a tense situation. Howling squirrels waved axes in their faces, grinning unpleasantly Martin bared his teeth and growled if any tried to paw them or come too close. Step by step the four friends made their way through the mad throng, Martin brandishing his sword, Grumm wagging his ladle warningly, Pallum extending his spikes and Rose swinging a foodpack in a businesslike manner. It seemed like hours, though it was only moments before they were clear.

Walking with deliberate slowness Martin spoke quietly to Pallum, who was bringing up the rear. "Pallum, take a slow glance behind and see if they've made any move to follow us yet. Do it casually."

As Pallum turned his head, the Gawtrybe stopped chanting.

"They're standing stock still, the whole crowd of them, not making a move or a sound, just watching us!" Pallum's voice carried in it the tinge of fear.

Rose could feel countless pairs of wild eyes focused on them. The fur on her nape rose stiffly. "I've a feeling I'm not going to like this game, Martin."

The young mouse held her paw tighter. "Blank it from your mind, Rose. Think of Noonvale."

Reaching the first ledges, they helped one another up, ready to run should the Gawtrybe show any sign of pursuit. Sandy rock crumbled beneath their paws and slivering pieces of shale slid away down the mountainside. Two more small ledges to go. Martin dug his sword into a crack to aid his progress, leaning over the ledge and helping Rose to haul Grumm up. Pallum pushed the mole from behind.

Grumm scrabbled his way on to the ledge, not daring to look down at the crowd far below, still standing silent and waiting. "Oi doant moind unnergrounds but oi bain't too fond of oop yurr!"

Pallum nearly tripped and fell backwards on the final ledge. He was windmilling his paws as he teetered perilously at its rim. Acting quickly, Rose swung the foodpack. The hedgehog caught the shoulderstrap, and she hauled him back to the safety of the ledge. Now the Gawtrybe were beginning to chant and dance again, eager to be on the chase. The four friends stood on the ledge which Martin had nominated, watching them. Martin took the pack from Rose and shouldered it.

"Are we ready?"

They nodded. Pallum spat on his paws and rubbed them together. "Right, Martin. Give them the signal!"

The young mouse stared down at the dancing hordes below. "Look at them, mad, cruel beasts, playing games with the lives of other creatures. I wouldn't waste my breath shouting signals to the scum. Let them guess whether or not the game has begun!"

The four friends took off as fast as they could, up the mountainside to the cave high above.

It took several seconds for the dancing, yelling mob to realize they had been cheated, Martin had not shouted the signal for them to start chasing. With a concerted howl of rage, the masses of squirrels dashed for the mountain, waving their axes. From the heights the four friends paused to glance down. Martin had been right: Gawtrybe squirrels were strong and fleet of paw. They were climbing at an amazing rate, every one agile and swift.

The game for the lives of the travellers had really begun!

BOOK THREE