Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

Maudie was staring at the coracle, moored to the bank. "D'you think we could get all the little chaps, plus two good paddlers, into that thing, wot?"

Teagle raised her eyebrows. "It'd be a bit of a squash, marm, but me'n'Rigril could prob'ly manage it."

Maudie addressed her next remark to Luglug. "What d'you have in the way of weaponry, old lad?"

The shrew counted items off on his pawpad. "Every Guosim has his rapier, most carry slings an' stones, an' there's around a score of us with bows an' arrers. Of

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course, if'n push comes to shove, a paddle's as good a weapon as anythin', miss."

The haremaid winked at her friends. "Well, huzzah for us, I say. We can work a flanker on the rotters, bit of a reverse pincer, as I've heard old Major Mull call it. Yes, that's what we'll jolly well do, wot!"

The shrew chieftain gazed blankly at Maudie, he could think of only one thing to say. "Wot?"

It had been said of Gruntan Kurdly that his mind was teetering on the brink of madness. Or to put it in Brownrat parlance, he had butterflies in his head, lots of them. However, no Brownrat, or any other vermin, dared to mention this to the warlord's face. The rare few who had were long dead, or, as Gruntan himself put it, had suffered a dose of the Kurdlys.

Gruntan Kurdly was the biggest of all his horde, both in height and girth. Brownrats smeared themselves with dyes and ochres, mainly yellow and blue, adorning themselves with the bones of their enemies, giving the horde a savage appearance. But none could outdo Gruntan in colour, or barbarity. He was a virtual rainbow of daubs, stripes and blotches of all hues. Around his huge waist, he sported a wide belt hung with skulls, ranging from birds to reptiles, with a few vermin craniums. These were a reminder to his horde, to show them who was warlord.

Gruntan sat on his litter, atop the high rock, watching preparations down below for the proposed ambush. His dozen litter bearers, several of whom were big females, hovered around, rendering him every attention. The Brownrat warlord was inordinately fond of hard-boiled eggs. The horde had recently ravaged the woodpigeon nests, so there was a plentiful supply for their leader. Three of Gruntan's daughters were kept busy shelling the eggs, whilst their father wolfed them down as he questioned his two scouts.

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"Haharr, an' wot did ye see downstream, me beauties, eh?"

Notwithstanding the shower of boiled egg fragments which he was forced to face, Noggo, the chief scout, reported. "Sh'ews they was, Boss, Grousen sh'ews, loads of 'em."

Gruntan spat out a bit of shell, cuffed the ear of the daughter responsible, then continued. "Grousens, ye say, an' did they 'ave 'andsome likkle boats wid 'em? Hoho, I needs some of those boats."

Biklo, the other scout, nodded eagerly. "Aye, I counted them meself, six long 'uns, an' a likkle round 'un, wot their scouts used, Boss!"

Gruntan's eyes grew dreamy as he imagined himself being transported along peaceful streams by boat. He liked boats. For a rat of his size and weight, the warlord was surprisingly quick; suddenly, he grabbed Noggo by the throat. Gruntan whispered hoarsely to him. "Noggo, me ole matey, was you spotted by the Grousens?"

Gulping, the scout tried to shake his head. "The sh'ews never saw us, on me oath, Boss!"

Gruntan released Noggo. He let his sly, glittering eyes rove over both scouts, popping another egg into his mouth. "Hearken t'me, mateys, an ambush only works if'n it's unexpected. T'wont be no ambush at all if'n ye've been seen by the Grousen sh'ews. So, tell me agin, was you spotted by 'em, eh?"

Noggo and Biklo shook their heads vigorously, replying in unison, "No, Boss, we wasn't spotted!"

Spearing another egg on one claw, Gruntan waggled it at the two scouts as he issued his customary warning. " 'Cos if'n you was, guess wot'll 'appen to ye?"

Noggo spoke for them both. "A dose of the Kurdlys, Boss."

Gruntan devoured the hard-boiled egg swiftly. "Haharr, right first time, me beauty!" He beckoned to Stringle, a tall, thin rat, who was his first officer. "Git down there, an' see

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that the crews are well stowed out o' sight on both banks. Keep yore eyes peeled up 'ere on me, I'll give ye the signal when they're comin'."

Stringle saluted with his spear and loped off. Gruntan Kurdly lay back on the litter, with a sigh of satisfaction, chewing happily on another egg. "Noggo, tell me when ye see those sh'ew boats hovin' into sight, will ye? Haharr, there ain't nothin' like some trim likkle vessels to ride the waters on!"

Sounds of the stream, gurgling softly over its pebbled bed, echoed up from below. Gruntan's eyes began to flutter, a half-eaten egg slipped from his paw. He was just about to start a nice nap, when Noggo shook him.

"Ahoy, Boss, 'ere they comes!"

From the top of the tall rock, the logboats looked small as they negotiated a bend in the stream. They were placed with two close to each bank, the coracle was in midstream, flanked by the remaining two boats. Gruntan murmured, "Come on, me beauties, come to ole Gruntan Kurdly!"

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BOOK TWO A Thief Absolved

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13

Evening shades were turning the ancient walls of the Abbey to a dusty rose pink, the soft air was still warm from the long summer day Little Dimp heaved himself laboriously up the north wall steps, toward the outer walltop. Each stair was an effort for the tiny squirrel, but he was determined to succeed. Down below on the lawn, two more Dibbuns, a mousemaid named Flim and an infant mole-maid, Jorty, stood wagging their paws at Dimp. Dibbuns were forbidden to climb the steps, or to be alone up on the ramparts. Both the tiny maids were shocked at the antics of Dimp, and told him so.

"Cumma down now, naughty squiggle, you not apposed t'be uppa there. Comma down, me say!"

"Hurr, you'm getten inna trubble, zurr Dimp, fall on ee skull'ead, or sumpin'. Coom ee daown, yurr!"

Dimp made it up onto the high walkway. He did a brief jig, calling scornfully to the pair below, "Ho, go an' boil yore bottims!"

Squeaking with shock at Dimp's turn of phrase, the little maids threw their pinafores over their faces and dashed off.

"Hi, hello there, is anyone on the wall?"

Dimp went to the battlements, he began scrambling up, to see who was hailing the walltops from outside. "H'l'm

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onna guard h'up 'ere, wot you want?" Levering his chin over the battlement, Dimp stared down. He had never seen anybeast the size of a badger in his life, and certainly not the huge, gaunt creature in a ragged smock, wielding a gigantic pitchfork. The Dibbun fell back onto the parapet, speechless with fright.

Orkwil was further along to the right of the main gate, when Gorath hailed him.

"There was somebeast up there a moment ago, a little squirrel, I think. I may have frightened him off."

The young hedgehog came scurrying back to his friend's side. He looked up to the walltop. "Listen, friend, you'd better make yourself scarce. Hide in the bushes, I'll speak to whoever it is." Whilst Gorath concealed himself at the north woodland edge, Orkwil began hailing the ramparts. "Hello up there, anybeast about? We need to get inside!"

Flim and Jorty were halfway across the lawn when they bumped into Fenn Bluepaw. The Abbey Recorder confronted the little ones sternly. "What's all this squealing and shouting about, why aren't you two inside, getting ready for bed?"

Jorty jumped up and down on the spot. "Marm, et bee's Dimp, he'm bein' gurtly naughty!"

Flim could not wait to inform on Dimp. "An', an', an' guess wot he sayed, marm, Dimp sayed the bot word to us. Ho good my gracious, it was h'awful!"

Fenn Bluepaw looked from one to the other. "'Bot word,' what's that supposed to mean?"