Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

Barbowla appeared over the stern of the back logboat. "Ahoy, mates, git those paddles a-slappin', 'tis time we weren't in this place!"

The Guosim crews needed no urging, they shot their boats through the tree canopy and out onto the other side, paddles digging furiously. In the vessel to the rear, Maudie

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and Osbil could see the first of the Brownrats, headed by Stringle, squelching their way along the muddy bank as they came hot in pursuit.

The sidestream was only wide enough to allow the Guosim craft to travel in single file. Prow bumped stern as they fled from Kurdly and his horde. Barbowla, and three of his sturdy sons, formed a rearguard behind the boats.

Maudie called to the otter, "Get up front, friends, I'll organise some sling throwers an' archers. They'll soon be close enough for us to get a shot at 'em, wot!"

Barbowla thrust his weight against the stern, shooting the craft forward. "No, miz, there's too many vermin, ye'd be overrun if'n ye tried to fight 'em. Speed, that's wot we need!"

Another shaded area of trees loomed up. Luglug could be heard calling from up in front. "We're runnin' into the forest, keep goin', mates, Redwall Abbey ain't far now, I recognise this area!"

Gruntan Kurdly was in the rear of the pursuit, bumping about as a score of Brownrats stumbled along bearing his litter. He was alternately urging his horde along, whilst cursing the litter carriers roundly.

"Avast up front, move yore sluggardly hides! I've seen snails wid shells on their backs that'd outrun youse lot. Argh! Go easy wid this stretcher, ye bumble-pawed nits, faint a bundle o' washin' yore totin'! Oof! Ye nearly spilt me into the water, watch where yore goin'. Where's the rest of 'em, they ain't all up front?"

Laggle, the old healer, who was trotting alongside the litter, gestured backward to the mainstream. "Heehee, half o' yore army are still on t'other side o' that mainstream. Prob'ly waitin' for a drought, so as it'll dry up an' they kin walk across."

Gruntan scowled sourly at the insolent Laggle, who was no respecter of rank or title. "Ho, are they? Well, go an' tell 'em if'n they ain't over 'ere in two shakes of a tail,

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there'll be a few attacks o' the Kurdlys runnin' through the ranks!"

He signalled to two vermin who were not engaged in carrying him. "Go an' see if'n we're gainin' on 'em, surely my rats kin run faster'n sh'ews kin paddle boats? Oh, an' when ye report back t'me, well, bring some vittles. I ain't gonna be bumped t'death an' starved inter the bargain. Yowch! Watch those tree branches over'ead, I near got me eye put out then. Can't ye carry an' crouch a bit, too?"

Maudie looked anxiously over the logboat's stern, not encouraged by what she saw. "I say, Osbil old lad, I don't wish to sound like a wet blanket, but those vermin types are gainin' on us, wot!"

The Guosim spotter nodded unhappily. "Aye, they're closin' the gap, miz, I can make out the paint on their mangy hides. We need more speed!"

Barbowla's wife, Kachooch, popped her head over the stern. "We're tryin', but ye can only go as fast as the boat in front when yore sailin' in single file."

"Ah, shure that's true, so 'tis. Ye talk good sense for a riverdog, so ye do!"

The logboat rocked as a creature dropped out of an overhanging beech into the vessel. He was a squirrel, small, but very wiry and agile. Four daggers were thrust into his broad waist sash, he wore a short, embroidered waistcoat, one hooped earring, and sported a woven, multicoloured headband, at a jaunty angle. He winked cheekily at Maudie, then bowed. "Rangval the Rogue at y'service, marm. Pray would ye impart t'me yore own dulcet title?"

Despite the peril of their position, the young haremaid took an immediate liking to Rangval, she curtsied formally. "Maudie (the Hon.) Mugsberry Thropple, pleased to make your acquaintance I'm sure."

Rangval the Rogue performed a somersault neatly. "Faith, an' that's a fine ould gobful of a name ye have there, marm. If'n I may, I'll just call ye Maudie, or prettyface, or

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beautybeast? Ah, but enough o' that ould flannel, I see ye've got problems. An' isn't it the bold Gruntan Kurdly an' his thickheaded horde!"

Maudie took another glance at the rats, who were getting closer by the moment. "It is indeed, I take it you know of him, wot?"

Rangval twitched his nose in the horde's direction. "Shure an' who doesn't know o' that 'un around here. I've been crossin' swords wid that boyo since he first showed his snotty nose in these parts. D'ye need my help now, Maudie, just say the word, me darlin', an' 'tis meself that'll put a spoke in his wheel!"

Osbil interrupted. "Wot could one squirrel do agin that lot?" Before he could speak further, the Guosim spotter was flat on his back with Rangval's dagger tickling his throat.

The roguish squirrel tweaked Osbil's snout. "When I want yore opinion, me ould son, I'll ask for it! Ah, shure but yore only a spiky rivermouse, what would ye know about anythin' or a hatful o' hazelnuts?" Rangval put up his blade and dismissed Osbil. "Now then, Maudie me darlin', tell yer friends to push on upstream an' don't hang about. When ye come to a tidy liddle cover with a sandstone overhang an' some pines nearby, wait for me there. Oh, an' when ye pass by Owch Mansions, hold y'breath an' keep yer head down, an' make no sudden movements."

Barbowla poked his head over the prow. "Owch Mansions, I've never heard o' that place."

Rangval grinned at the big otter. "Barbowla from the falls, isn't it? You don't know me, but I've watched you many a time, good, big family y'have. Shure, let's do the introductions later, I'd best be about me business now. I'll see ye later, so I will!" Rangval shot upward into the fo-liaged terraces and was gone.

Maudie turned to Barbowla. "I say we trust Rangval, he looks like a bit of a blinkin' laddo, but I'll bet he knows his bloomin' way round, wot!"

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The otter slid back into the water. "Ain't much else we can do but trust him, miz. I'll pass the word along to Luglug, t'keep watch for the cove."

Smiling sheepishly, Osbil felt his neck, where Rangval's blade had been a moment ago. "I wonder wot Owch Mansions are, miz?"

Maudie shrugged as the logboat began making better way. "I expect we'll find out soon enough, old lad."

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18

Abbot Daucus woke shortly after dawn. The skies were uniformly cloudy and dull, it was humid, and the dawn chorus of birdsong was absent. The good mouse wandered down to the kitchens, where Friar Chondrus was supervising breakfast preparations. Young ones on kitchen duty were scurrying around as the squirrel Friar issued orders.

"Don't put any hot bread or pastries to cool on the open windowsills, it's started drizzling. Folura, help me with this oatmeal, please."

Daucus took hold of the cauldron handle, his paw protected by a wrapping of sleeve folds. "Here, let me get that, friend, clear the table there!"

Chondrus made room for the cauldron as Daucus swung it quickly onto the tabletop. "Good morning, Father Abbot, have you been to the walltops yet, any news of the Sea Raider vermin?"

Daucus began adding ingredients to the oatmeal. "None yet, Friar. Skipper Rorc, Benjo Tipps, Foremole and Orkwil have been up there all night. I'll take them some breakfast and hear what they have to report. Then I'll have to organise a relief guard, they can't stay up there indefinitely. Have you heard from Sister Atrata, as to our badger, Gorath?"

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Friar Chondrus bent to pull a tray of fruit rolls from the oven. "The sister will be here shortly to collect breakfast for the sickbay. I'll let you know the moment she tells me about Gorath. Folura, Glingal, load up a trolley of vittles, and help Father Abbot up the ramparts with it, please."

Skipper's two fine daughters obliged cheerfully.