Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

The feast was an epic triumph, with the centerpiece a great cauldron of shrimp'n'hotroot soup, cooked to Frutch's own family recipe. The Guosim cooks produced pear flans, apple pies, blackberry tarts and rhubarb crumble. Mirklewort and her hograbble contributed loaves and biscuits, hot from the ovens. Gurth placed himself in charge of drinks. He made mint and rosehip tea, a cordial of dandelion and burdock and a great deal of fruit punch. Brogalaw had the sentries relieved often, so that all could join in. Skittles tried to keep his eyes open, but he was so tired that he fell asleep with a ladle of crumble still in one paw. It was inevitable that singing and dancing would break out; there were many good dancers among the tribes gathered there. A sea otter shanty was started by Brog's two young singing otters, accompanied by drums, flutes and stone clappers. Amid much fancy pawstepping by hares, otters, hedgehogs and squirrels, the music rattled along at a breakneck pace.

"Oh rowtledy dowtledy doodle hi ay,

We're full of plum duff an' salt water!

Now the Rowtledy Dowwas a leaky ole craft,

With aprons an' kerchiefs for sails fore an' aft,

An' all of her crew thought the cap'n was daft,

An' he was sure they was all barmy!

Her anchor was made from a big rusty pot,

That they hauled up each mornin' to serve dinner hot,

But the crew was too slow so the cook scoffed the lot,

An' a seagull flew off with the pudden!

So 'tis heave away mateys the wind's blowin' west,

An' the cabin mole's wearin' his grandma's blue vest,

While the mate's got a blanket tattooed on his chest,

To keep his fat stummick from freezin'!

Well, there's fish in the sea better mannered than we,

For they washes their flippers an' don't slop their tea,

An' we'd be better off on the land don't yer see,

'Cos I think that the ould ship is sinkin'!

Oh rowtledy dowtledy doodle hi ay,

Nail a pie to the door for me mother!"

They sang it again, this time at double speed. Hares leapt high, seeing if they could wiggle their ears six times before hitting the ground again (Bucko could do eight earwiggleshe was the envy of all). Dancers had often to jig out of the way of hedgehogs revolving in mad spins. Otters twined their tails and somersaulted over the fire. Squirrels high-kicked wildly, gritting their teeth as sand flew about. Around them all, the Guosim shrews joined paws and spun in a wide eye-blurring wheel. Right at the center, Gurth danced sedately with Brog's mum, bowing and hopping gracefully, while Frutch curtsied and performed dainty little steps, holding her apron wide.

Old Bramwil sat chuckling with Brocktree. "Will y'look at them, sire! I never saw such jiggin' in all me seasons, wot! I say, that pretty young 'un, Dotti, those hare twins won't leave her alone. They want every blinkin' dance with her!"

Brocktree chuckled. "She'd be disappointed if they did leave her alone, a fatal beauty like our Dotti. Tell me, Bramwil, what was my father Stonepaw like? You served under him, didn't you?"

Bramwil wiped both eyes on a large spotty kerchief and blew his nose. "Lord Stonepaw was the wisest, gentlest beast a hare ever knew. He was my Badger Lord and my good friend, sire."

Brocktree knew he was upsetting the old hare, but he had to put the question to him that he had been too moved to ask when Stiffener had sat between himself and Fleetscut and told them that Lord Stonepaw was dead.

"I never knew him very well, you see. Badgers leave home while their sons are still young. 'Twould be a tense household with two grown male badgers in it. Now, I don't want every little detail, but please tell me, how did he die?"

Bramwil stared into the fire, answering without hesitation. "He went bravely, lord, more courageously than anybeast could imagine, surrounded by those blue murderers! He laid down his life to give us time to escape."

Brocktree put a paw about Bramwil's shaking shoulders. "You've no need to distress yourself further, old one. I know now. My father died like a true Badger Lord, full of the Bloodwrath, taking many vermin with him."

Bramwil's tears sizzled in the embers at the fire's edge as he nodded and dabbed at his eyes. '"Twas so, lord, 'twas so!"

Brocktree rose, flickering flame shadows playing over his immobile face. Bramwil looked up at him. The Badger Lord looked like something carved from rock, which had stood there since the dawn of time.

At last, Brocktree shouldered his sword. "Waste no more tears, you good old beast. Stonepaw would not want grief, he would want retribution. I am here now. It is the turn of Ungatt Trunn and his vermin to suffer. I will make them weep full sore before they die!" He strode off toward the clifftops, alone.

Bucko Bigbones threw himself down beside Bramwil, panting from the dance. He seized a flagon of cordial and drained it. "Hey, auld 'un, I seen ye talkin' wi' the big boyo. Och, 'twill be a thing tae see when that'n takes hamself aff tae battle!"

Ungatt Trunn could not sleep. He wandered the upper passages of Salamandastron until he came to a small chamber on its north side, where he had chosen to store his own armor and weapons. His restless eyes sought out a long trident leaning against the wall. He took the weapon and hefted it. This trident had served him well many times in battle. Three barb-headed copper prongs gleamed dully in the torchlight; he ran his paw over the oaken shaft until it met the cord-bound grip at its middle. Grasping it firmly, he went to the window and stood staring out toward the cliffs in the distance.

"Brocktree of Brockhall, eh? So that's what they call you. I know you are out there somewhere, Badger Lord. I am Ungatt Trunn the Earth Shaker, who makes the stars fall from the sky. This mountain is mine by right of conquest. Here I staycome to me!"

He pointed out of the window at the cliffs with his trident.

Brocktree stood on the clifftops, the night breeze ruffling his fur, though his eyes never once blinked against the wind. He gazed at the dark shape to the south, the mountain looming high on the western shore edge. Drawing his sword, he pointed it at Salamandastron, starlight shimmering along the burnished blade's length.

"I know your face, wildcat; soon you will see mine. I am coming. Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaa!"

Chapter 32

Morning sun shone down on a strange scene. Durvy and his crew also witnessed it, and they turned from the water's edge and hastened back to camp. Leaders of all the tribes and crews were taking breakfast inside the cave with Brocktree, about to begin a council of war, when Durvy and Konul dashed in, breathless and excited.

"Come an' see! All the bluebottoms are paradin' out along the shore!"

The Badger Lord put aside his food. "Where?"

"I'd say 'bout a third the distance 'twixt 'ere an' the mountain. 'Tis a sight t'see, eh, Konul?"

The cheeky-faced ottermaid was grim and shaken. "Aye. You can't see the sands o' the beach for 'em!"

Rulango the heron stalked into the cave. Log a Log Grenn took a backward pace at the sight of the fearsome bird. "Where did that monster come from?"

Brog went to Rulango and stroked his neck. "I forgot to tell ye about this 'un. He's Rulango, the eyes'n'ears of the Bark Crew. Where'd you get to yesterday, mate?"

He cleared a patch in the sand, and Rulango sketched out several fishes. Brog nodded. "Fishin', eh? Well, you've got to eat, just like anybeast. No need to tell us wot's down on the shore, we know."

But the heron kept dabbing his talons down on the sand, until it was covered in tiny dots.

"See all these dots? Each one's a bluebottom," Brog explained.

Rulango scraped out a row of scratches.

"He says that for every scratch there's that many again. Too many for 'im t'sketch!"