Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

Orkwil touched Gorath's massive paw gently. "He's been through a lot. A lesser beast would've died from the treatment he received from those Sea Raiders."

Gorath's eyes came open, he struggled weakly to sit up. "Sea Raiders, where are they?"

Orkwil sat on the bed, pressing him back down. "Calm yoreself, mate, there hasn't been hide nor hair of those rascals seen anywhere around. At the moment we're more concerned about a horde of Brownrats outside the south wall. Listen now, there's someone I want ye to meet."

Maudie proffered her paw, introducing herself. "Maudie Mugsberry Thropple of Salamandastron, sah. I was sent to seek you out by Lord Asheye."

Gorath paused a moment. "Asheye, is that's his name? An old badger, completely gray all over, I've seen him in my dreams a few times. What does he want with me?"

The haremaid seated herself on the end of the bed. "Er, I'm not quite flippin' sure, sah. He said I was to observe you, probably has thoughts of me bringin' you back to Salamandastron."

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Gorath interrupted her, the old fire seeming to smoulder in his eyes. "Not until Vizka Longtooth is dead by my paw! Orkwil, go and warn your Abbey friends, those vermin are somewhere near, waiting to attack Redwall. Bring me Tung, give me my weapon...." Again he tried to rise, but Maudie and Orkwil held him down.

Sister Atrata appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing here, this creature is ill, he needs rest. You must leave immediately!" The Sister took a small bowl from the bedside table. Supporting Gorath's head, she raised it to his lips. "Drink some of this, friend, it will help you get well."

The badger took a long, thirsty draught and lay back. His eyelids fluttered, and he gave a deep sigh. Then he began murmuring as though thinking aloud. "Never saw them coming ... no chance at all... have to bury the old ones ... build a new dwelling... all gone now, home, kin-beasts ... Getting cold now, so cold these Northern Isles ... Ice, snow ... Crops ruined again ... Poorbeasts, poorbeasts ... buried in Northern earth ... So cold ... So cold!"

Gorath began trembling and shuddering then. His great, wasted body arched against the bed, paws tightly clasped as his teeth rattled aloud. The pitchfork, Tung, which had been laid next to him, clattered to the floor.

Sister Atrata acted quickly, pouring more liquid from the bowl between her patient's clenched teeth as she snapped out orders at the two visitors. "You, miss, bring blankets from the big chest in the next room. Prink, get hold of Marja Dubbidge, tell her to get a fire lit up here. Look sharp now, both of you, your friend is in a fever!"

Orkwil scurried off to find Marja, the Bellringer. Maudie located the big chest, and pulled fleecy woven blankets from it as she murmured to herself, "Hope the Sis knows what she's doin'. Imagine me havin' t'go back empty-pawed to His Lordship. What would one say? Sorry, sah, I found the badger who carries the flame, but I bloomin' well lost him. Huh, Major Mull'd have my hide!"

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Stumbling over a heap of bedlinen and blankets, the haremaid tottered in to Sister Atrata. "Will that be enough, marm, d'you want me to fetch more, is he goin' to be alright, hadn't you better give him another dose of that jol-lop from the bowl, wot?"

The good Sister treated Maudie to a strict glare. "I'll do all in my power to help him, miz, but please don't start telling me how to do my job. Here, take a corner of this blanket, and help me to cover him."

The haremaid was tucking the blanket about Gorath's shoulders when she noticed the extent, the depth of the flame-shaped scar on his brow. "Great blinkin' seasons, what an awful wound, I saw it when I first got here, but I didn't realise just how jolly big it was, 'til I got up close!"

Sister Atrata nodded. "Yes, I'm just hoping it doesn't affect his recovery, but who knows?"

Maudie stared down at the awesome wound. "Hmm, there used to be an old hare in the veterans' barracks. Got a big rock broken over his head in the vermin wars. Funny old chap, used to sing songs in a language nobeast could understand. They reckon the bang he got from the rock sent him clear off his chump. Beg pardon, marm, made him act strangely."

The Sister lowered her eyes. "I understand, things like that have been known to happen. Though I don't think this badger will lose his mind, he's too fixed by one purpose, to avenge the death of his family."

Maudie gazed out of the window, watching the first pale streaks of dawn illuminating the night sky. "Sounds just like a badger to me, Sister."

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24

Larks rose from the flatlands, twittering in the newborn summer morn at the misty blue sky which promised a long, sunny day. It would have been an idyllic scene, except for two things, a horde of Brownrats in the southern woodland fringe, and a crew of vermin Sea Raiders to the north of the Abbey.

Vizka Longtooth had left the bulk of his creatures under cover, bringing twoscore along with him. They headed down the ditch to Redwall, ready to begin tunnelling operations. The crew he had chosen were not too happy with the scheme, but they kept silent, knowing the golden fox was only waiting on one protestor, to make an example of. Once the Abbey was in sight, they crouched low, approaching it with extreme caution. Vizka halted them when he was level with the main gates, and started issuing orders. "I t'ink we start tunnellin' right here, see." He scratched an X into the ditch wall. "Wot d'ya say, Undril, a gudd place, eh?"

Undril was a large, dull-witted weasel, whom Vizka had chosen to be in charge of the digging. He looked at the mark his captain had made, nodding. "If'n ya says so, Cap'n."

The golden fox gave his crew the benefit of a quick,

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dangerous smile. "Oh, I says so, ya can take me word on it. Now git diggin', all of ya!"

Without any proper tools they went to work, gouging at the soil with spear, sword and dagger points. Vizka toyed with his mace and chain, watching their clumsy attempts, whilst trying to keep his temper in check. He realised it was going to be a long, slow task, requiring a bit of patience, something Vizka was not used to. Already he was feeling irate.

"Dere's too many diggin' at once, yer gettin' nowheres. Undril, split 'em ina two groups. Firty, you'n Gerna go further down dis ditch, try der soil an' see if'n 'twould be easier ter dig a tunnel dere."

Firty and Gerna were both small and puny rats. Glad to be relieved of labouring, they scuttled off south, down the ditchbed. Vizka continued supervising the work. "Jungo, wot d'ya t'ink yore doin'?"

Jungo, the least intelligent of all the Bludgullet's crew, pointed to the shallow depression they had made. "Huh huh, me spear keeps bouncin' back when I tries ter dig wid it, Cap'n."

Vizka explained, as though he were talking to a babe, "Dat's 'cos dere's a root in der way. Bilger, yew 'old der root, while Jungo cuts it wid 'is spearblade." The golden fox watched the proceedings, with a sense of hopelessness weighing upon him.

"Yowch! Der cap'n said cut der root, loaf'ead, not me paw. Ow! See, ya dun it again!"

"Huh huh, sorry, mate, yore paw's all full o' soil, I thought it wuz der root!"

Gruntan Kurdly had finally arrived at the south woodland fringe. His weary bearers set the stretcher down as he cast a scathing eye over his horde. He beckoned Biklo to his side. "Where's all the sh'ews got to?"

The scout, Biklo, nodded in the direction of the Abbey. "In there, Boss."

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Assisted by two bearers, Gruntan wheezed his way to the edge of the trees. He had seen Redwall Abbey before, but not this close up; he tried not to look impressed. "Hmm, are the six liddle boats in there, too?"

Biklo shrugged. "Dunno."

For a rat of his size and bulk, Gruntan could move quite rapidly. He rushed Biklo, felling him with a kick. Standing over the fallen Brownrat, he made a pantomime of shrugging, and aping the scout's voice. "Dunno? Dunno?" Gruntan kicked him again, shouting, "Well, ye'd better get t'know, mudbrains!" He turned on Stringle, his leading officer. "Can't I leave ye alone fer a moment? Ye let the sh'ews git away, now they're in that place. Well, did ye try ter get 'em out, or did ye jus' sit on yore tails all night, waitin' fer me to do it for ye?"