Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

"See, lord, I kept me vow so far, an' don't you fret now. I'll be goin' back to our mountain, an' if there be a single hare alive there I'll rescue 'em. I promise!"

Chapter 20

Dotti had never in her life seen anything like the court of King Bucko, nor had any of her traveling companions. It was situated in a broad, beautiful woodland glade, backed by a steep rocky hill, with a stream bordering one side, fringed with crack willow, guelder rose and osier. But any resemblance to a peaceful sylvan setting ended there. It was packed to bursting with teeming life. Lord Brocktree's party wandered about, relatively unnoticed. There were moles, otters, voles, hedgehogs, mice, squirrels and shrews everywhere, but hares formed the main presence. Hares, big, strong, young and bold. Fleetscut nodded at them. He had to raise his voice so that Dotti could hear him above the din as they pushed and jostled their way through.

"Well stap me ears, we've got a right bunch o' corkers here, miss. There's a lot o' mountain haresone can tell by the remains of their white winter patches, wot. As for the rest, there's a few gypsies, but a chap can recognize the offspring of Salamandastron hares. D'y'know, I can pick out the ears an' faces of mostlook just like their mothers an' fathers they do. Dearie me, it makes me feel jolly old, I can tell ye. Some o' these great lumps o' fur'n'bone, huh, I bounced 'em on me knee when they were tiny leverets!"

Dotti giggled at the thought it conjured up. "Heehee, you'd get a blinkin' broken knee if you tried bouncin' any o' those big hulkin' boyos now, wot?"

A carnival atmosphere reigned over the court. Groups of hedgehogs competed with oak clubs on hollow logs, trying to outdrum one another; squirrels were performing acrobatic feats, flying over the heads of the crowd. A mob of young otters lounged against a stack of barrels, with foaming tankards in their paws, roaring out bawdy songs with no pretense whatsoever to harmony or tune, volume seeming to take precedence over all else. Shrews and voles wrestled in packs, one team against another. Mice and moles were cooking over a huge open fire, laughing as they exchanged friendly insults about the results of each other's culinary efforts. A motley orchestra had set itself up on the lower hill slopes. All manner of creatures scraped on fiddles, rattled tambourines, shrilled on flutes and whistles, battered away at bodhransflat single-headed drums with double-ended striking sticksand twanged a variety of odd stringed instruments. Some mountain hares even droned away on sets of bagpipes.

Lord Brocktree was the only badger present at the massive gathering, standing out head and shoulders above other beasts. His backslung battle sword received many admiring glances, and not many creatures tried to bump or jostle himin fact, not any.

The Badger Lord winced, clapping paws over both his ears. "By my stripes, how any creature could put up with this infernal din is beyond me! Let's find somewhere less noisy!"

They took refuge on the streambank beneath a couple of crack willows, which afforded generous shade. Log a Log Grenn signaled two of her Guosim. "Kubba, Rukoo, find your way back t'the ford an' see if you can find a sidestream to bring our boats up here."

Jukka sprang moodily to a low willow branch, where she jabbed her short spear viciously into the trunk. "I like it not, this place of loud fools. 'Tis an affront to the ears an' eyes, a gathering of madbeasts!"

Fleetscut noticed she was staring accusingly at him. "Well, pish tush an' a pity about you, milady. What d'you want me t'do about it, eh? Do I run around shushin' them all up, or would y'prefer me to carry you back to your pine grove, wot?"

Whirling her loaded sling, Jukka sprang down. "Thou hast insulted me enough, longears. Let's settle this thing betwixt us, here an' now!"

Brocktree was between them suddenly, knocking the sling awry. "Cast one stone, Jukka Sling, and I'll snap off the paw that does it and feed it to you!"

A hare, with six others attending him, marched up to Brocktree. "By the cringe'n'the left, sah, you'll be the Badger Lord who's come a-visitin', wot! His Majesty King Bucko wants a word with you. Don't know who you other bods are, but y'd best wait here, wot!"

Fleetscut placed himself in front of the officious young hare. "Aye, but one of these other bods knows who you jolly well are, earwag. Son of Bramwil, if I'm not mistaken. Hmm, y'won't remember me, but I knew you. Little fat feller with a runny nose, always sniffin' an' weepin'. What was it they called you? Dribbler, that was it!"

The hare, a fine fit-looking beast, sniffed and turned on his heel, stating huffily, "That, sah, was a nickname. I'm properly called Windcoat Bramwil Lepus the second. You may bring your retinue with you if you wish, Lord Badger!"

Stifling a smile, Brocktree addressed his creatures. "Fall in and follow me, retinue. Let's go and see this Bucko!"

Steps made from logs led up to the fork of an old cherry laurel, padded and draped with hanging velvet to form the royal throne. King Bucko Bigbones was bigger than most hares and obviously strong-framed. He lounged casually in the tree fork, one footpaw dangling, the other up against the outward-leaning left limb. A broad belt girdled his ample waist, decorated with colored stones, polished arrowheads and lots of medallions. Around his head, though cocked jauntily over one eye, he wore a gold circlet interwoven with laurel leaves. In one paw he held a scepter of sculpted oak with a crystal chip set in its top. He cast an eye over his visitors as if they were of no great interest.

"D'ye no bow yer heids or bend a knee tae a king?"

Brocktree's answer was equally dismissive. "We bow to no creature, even self-appointed kings. Do you not find it common courtesy to rise in the presence of a Badger Lord, instead of sitting draped up there like a drunken beast?"

The Royal Guard surrounding the tree throne put paws to their weapons, but the king shook his head at them. "Nae call fer that, yon beastie'd prob'ly floor the lot o' ye. Jings, but yer a big 'un, an' saucy, too, as I heard. By the rocks! That's a braw battle blade ye bear. Ahll trade ye for et, any thin' ye like!"

Brocktree raised a paw to touch the double-hilted weapon. "My sword wouldn't do you any good, and it's not for sale or trade. You and another like you couldn't lift it."

King Bucko laughed and bounded down the steps, paw outstretched. He gripped the badger's paw and applied pressure. "Och, I like ye well, mah friend. D'ye mean tae challenge me?"

Brocktree stood smiling easily, allowing Bucko to squeeze his paw to the maximum. Then the Badger Lord squeezed back. White-faced and trembling, the hare was forced to his knees. He managed a pained smile. "Jings, ah hope ye don'tchallenge me. Would ye not let mah paw free afore ye flatten et completely?"

The badger released his paw. Bucko stood up, massaging it and smiling ruefully.

"Don't worry, I won't be challenging you," Brocktree assured him, "but one of my party will. I'll let you know who when the time's right."

Bucko glanced over Brocktree's followers, then dashed up to Skittles and knelt in front of the hogbabe. "Hah, so you're the wee terror who wants tae fight King Bucko, eh? Let's see whit ye can do then, mah laddie!"

Skittles needed no second bidding. He jumped upon the hare and began pummeling with his tiny paws. "I fight ya, Skikkles be's a good fighterer!"

Bucko held him off, shouting in mock horror, "Ach, get the wild wee beastie off me or ah'll be kill't!" Still rubbing his paw, he winked at Brocktree. "Just as weel ye never breakit mah paw. Ah've got a challenge tae answer shortly. Gang ye along an' watch'twill be a bit o' sport tae entertain ye. Guards, bring mah battlegown!"

The guards draped King Bucko in a magnificently embroidered cloak and he set off, with Brocktree and the others following.