Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

Trunn removed his helmet, closed both eyes and massaged his temples slowly. When he finally spoke, his voice was a barely controlled growl with a high-pitched hiss behind it.

"I don't want to know who stole the key, nor who snapped it off in the lock. I don't want to hear excuses or explanations from any of you. I don't want to know how the hares escaped, or where they've gone. But before the sun sets today, I want to see threescore longears back here. Take your patrols, scour the countryside, send vessels to search the waters and coast north and south of here. But before you go, come down to the shore and watch what happens to four creatures who ate a few fish without asking. Then, all of you, ask yourselves this question. If the mighty Ungatt Trunn could have four beasts executed for a couple of mouthfuls of fish, what fate would he devise for the entire guard patrol of this level, who managed to let sixty valuable prisoners escape? Think!"

Captain in Chief Karangool came marching up as the wildcat emerged from the mountain.

"Might'ness!"

Ungatt Trunn eyed him warily. "What is it, captain?"

"Two soldiers, they find sentries who desert, at dawn!"

A sigh of relief almost escaped the wildcat, but he checked it. "Ah, the pair who deserted the night before last. Where were they found? Who were the soldiers who found them?"

"They walk here, into main gate. Two soldiers on sentry 'round mountain were there."

The wildcat spoke his mind aloud. "So, the two sentries who were supposed to be patrolling 'round the mountain all night spent their time idling in the shelter of the main gate, by the guard fire no doubt. They were wakened by the two other fools walking in, so they arrested them. Is that it?"

"Ya, Might'ness!"

"Where are the two deserters now?"

"Sentries know Might'ness rules 'bout runaway beasts. They slay 'em for break of your law."

The wildcat made a pawmark in the sand and stared at it. "Why am I surrounded by halfwits and dunderheads?" he hissed.

"Might'ness?"

"Nothing, captain. Have the two sentries tied up with the four to be executed. Make certain Fragorl tells everybeast why they must pay the penalty. Sleeping on guard and shirking their patrol duties, and so on and so on. I've got other things to think about. Captain, before you sailed for me, what did you do?"

Karangool indicated a faded tattoo on his paw and the hole in his ear, where a big brass ring once hung. "Might'ness, I was corsair, long 'go."

The assembled Hordes on the beach stood watching their leader conversing earnestly with his Captain in Chief.

"Tell me, did you ever come across a badger?"

"One time."

"A male badger, in his prime, carrying a double-hilted war blade over his shoulder?"

"Nah, Might'ness, old female badger I see, dead."

Trunn suddenly lost interest in the conversation and stalked down to the execution site. Hordebeasts heard him muttering to himself as he passed them.

"I cannot see your face, but I see you every night. Yet nobeast has even heard of you. But we will meet, ah yes, badger, we will meet. And then you'll see what a wildcat looks like before you die."

Noon sun had passed its zenith when Rulango alighted on a dune close to the cave. Brogalaw was waiting for him. He cleared a patch in the sand, to let the heron sketch out his report of what he had seen. Brogalaw stared tight-lipped as the drawing unfolded before him.

Stiffener came out of the cave with Frutch, munching on a slice of flat pastry with obvious enjoyment. Frutch carried two more pieces on a platter. Stiffener popped in the final bit, licking crumbs off his paw. "Beech'n' hazelnut slice, eh, marm? Yore own recipe, too. No wonder Brog looks well, feedin' off vittles like yores."

Frutch twitched her rudder at the compliment. "Our bird likes it, too, y'know. 'Tis a mix of sliced nuts an' plum preserve baked atop a shortbread biscuit." Nearing her son and the heron, Frutch called, "I brought yore favorite slice, fresh from the oven!"

Rulango stood on one leg and looked distant, while Brog hastily obliterated the picture from the sand with his footpaw.

"Good ole Mum. Brought the raspberry cordial, too, did ye?"

"Land sakes, I'll fetch the oven out an' the table'n' chairs if'n you like, Brogalaw. Talk about chasin' after an ungrateful son. Here, y'great lump, get this down ye!"

Brogalaw and Rulango set about their slices eagerly. Frutch stroked the big bird's neck affectionately. "Bless 'is feathers, there's a bird who never complains an' knows wot's good for him. What's he been drawin', Brog?"

The sea otter appeared suddenly absentminded. "Oh, 'twas nothin' for you t'worry yore pretty ole 'ead about. Ahoy, Mum, we're thirsty. Where's that cordial, eh?"

She trundled off down the dune. "I'll go an' fetch it."

Stiffener tapped a paw in the sand. "So then, matey, just wot was yore bird sketchin'?"

Brog dropped his voice a tone. "D'you know wot that wickedbeast did to six of 'is own? Had 'em bound together with rocks an' drowned in the sea. Aye, 'tis true. All the bluebottoms, whole hordes of 'em, was made to stand an' watch the pore wretches, screamin' an' pleadin' for their lives. Stiff, wot makes anybeast toiler a master like that?"

Stiffener doodled sand patterns with his paw. "Who knows, Brog? Fear, wantin' to be on the side of a conqueror who always wins. Maybe the vermin join 'is ranks 'cos deep down they're as bad'n'evil as Trunn hisself."

The sea otter Skipper shuddered and shook himself. "Time we started strikin' back now, Stiff. Let's take a look at this otter'n'hare crew of ours, see wot weapons they're best suited to besides knives'n'forks."

Chapter 27

It was noon of the third day at the court of King Bucko Bigbones, time for the Fighting challenge. Spectators were packed tight around the arena; others sat on the hillside or climbed trees. However, there was no air of festive gaiety. This was serious business; the outcome would decide which hare picked up the crown. The high bright sun presided over a silent and solemn crowd. A furtive whisper rustled about Bucko and his seconds as they made their way to the ring through the path which fell open before them.

The mountain hare had discarded his broad belt for the event, and a paunch which had not been visible before was now clearly evident. Creatures commented on it in hushed tones.

"I say, whatever happened to the trim waist he had, wot?"

"Too much scoff an' not enough exercise, if y'ask me!"

"Maybe so, but ole Bucko still looks dangerous enough to do the job. I wouldn't fancy facin' him, no sir!"

"Och aye, yon king's a big braw beastie, near twice the size o' the wee lassie. Ah'm thinkin' 'twill all be o'er if he lands the bairn one guid blow!"

Bucko took the log barrier at a bound, his cloak swirling as he tossed it to his seconds. He jammed his scepter between two of the logs, balancing the laurel-wreathed gold coronet on it. Then, grim-faced, he sat down to wait, acknowledging the presence of the bankvole referee with a curt nod. Glancing up at the sun, Bucko judged which would be the best position to take up without being dazzled. After a while some of the onlookers began whispering among themselves. Dotti had not yet put in an appearance. Bucko sat calm and motionless.

Lord Brocktree and his party led Dotti through the aisle of creatures which opened from the stream side. He and Ruff stepped into the arena, followed by Dotti and Gurth. The haremaid was simply clad in a short green tunic. She sat down on the logs on the opposite side to Bucko, giving him scarce a glance.

Waddling to the center of the ring, the bankvole began his preamble. "Good creatures, h'attend meeeeee! Toooooday h'is the day o' the Fightin' challenge, an' the rooooools h'are h'as folloooows. No weapons h'or arms can be heeeee"