Brian Jacques - [Redwall 10] - The Long Patrol

flapped wildly in the wind, their poles ornamented with the tails of dead foebeasts. The poles’ tops were crowned with

the skulls of enemies, and their long pennants bore the sign of Rapscallion, the two-edged sword.

Borumm the weasel and Vendace the fox were scouts, known by the title Rapscour. They marched to the left flank

of the main body with twoscore trained trackers each. Borumm glanced back at the receding shoreline and the sea,

saying, “Take yer last peep o’ the briny, mate, this lot won’t be goin’ nowheres by water anymore. ’Is Lordship

Damug don’t like sailin’.”

Vendace narrowed his eyes against the driving wind. “That’s a fact, cully, an’ I’ll wager an acorn to an oak that ’e

won’t be ’eadin’ over Salamandastron way neither. Taint only ships Damug’s afeared of.”

Borumm let his paw stray to the cutlass at his side. “A proper Firstblade shouldn’t be afeared o’ nought. But we’ll

frighten ’im one dark night, eh, mate?”

Vendace grinned wolfishly at his companion. “Aye, when Vs least expectin’ it, we’ll find space atwixt ’is ribs fer a

couple o’ sharp blades. Then we’ll be the Firstblades.”

Borumm closed his eyes longingly for a moment. “Hair, we’ll turn this lot right ’round an’ make fer the soft sunny

south coast an’ rule it like a pair o’ kings.”

Lugworm stumbled along behind the last column, clasping a damp strip of blanket to his bruised throat. Being a

First-blade’s counselor had its drawbacks. It would take him a day or two to get back into his Chief’s favor, and

meanwhile he decided to stay as far away from Damug as possible.

Lousewort and Sneezewort marched just ahead of him, being in the back five of the last contingent. Lousewort

caught sight of Lugworm and called back to him, “G’mornin’, Luggv’ w°t sorta mood’s the boss in t’day?”

Lugworm tried to speak, but could manage only a painful gurgle.

Sneezewort looked quizzically at Lousewort. “Wot did ’e say, mate?”

The stolid Lousewort shook his head. “Er, er, ’e jus’ said ‘Gloggte oggle ogg,’ or sumthin’, I dunno.”

Sneezewort prodded his mate. “‘Gloggle oggle ogg,’ eh? That’s wot you’d a bin sayin’ right now if’n you was

totin’ that stoopid big wheel along wid yer.”

The big nasty-looking weasel’s voice reached them from the rank marching in front. “Wot stoopid big wheel’s that

yer talkin’ about?”

“Oh, the one I chucked awa—Wot wheel are ye talkin’ about, comrade? I don’t know nothin’ about any wheel,

d’you, matey?”

Lousewort nodded obliviously. “Oh yep, you remember, Sneezy, my nice big wheel wot you throwed away.

Owow! Wot are ye kickin’ me for, mate?”

All morning the wind continued to blow, right until midnoon, when a drizzle started. Damug Warfang rapped out

commands to the drummers.

“Speed up that beat to double march, there’s a woodland up ahead.”

The two Rapscours and their scouts dashed ahead of the Rapscallions to reconnoiter the spot. It was a prime

campsite, with a small pond containing fish, and lots of fat woodpigeons roosting in the trees. By late noon the army

was completely sheltered from the weather: rocky ledges, heavy tree trunks, and overhead foliage sealed them off from

cold, wind-driven rain. A feeling of well-being pervaded the camp, now they were in a fresh location. This was luxury,

after an entire winter spent on the hostile and hungry southeast shore.

Borumm and Vendace were snugly settled in, having spread an old sail canvas over the low curving limb of a

buckthorn, with a rocky outcrop at their back. They sat cooking a quail over their campfire. Lugworm was with them,

hiding behind a flap of the overhanging canvas, glancing nervously around at the passing Rapscallions.

Borumm chuckled at the stoat’s apprehensive manner. Shoving him playfully, he said, “Wot’s the matter, matey?

You ain’t doin’ no ’arm jus’ sittin”ere sharin’ a bird with two ole pals.”

Lugworm averted his face as a Rapmark walked by. “What’d Damug say if’n somebeast told ’im I was sittin”ere

talkin’ wid you two?”

Vendace shrugged as he tended the roasting quail. “We won’t tell ’im if you don’t. Stop frettin’ an”ave some o’

this bird. AH you gotta do is tell us where ole Firstblade’H be sleepin’ tonight an’ how many guards’11 be around, an’

any-thin’ else y’think we should know. Leave the rest to us, matey.”

Borumm whetted a curved dagger against the rock. “Aye, by tomorrer it shouldn’t make any difference who saw

yer talkin’ to us. Damug won’t be around to throttle yer again, ’e’ll be searchin’ for ’is daddy in Dark Forest!”

Sneezewort had a good fire going. He stirred the half-burned wood hopefully, watching Lousewort returning from

the pond. He noticed that his companion looked very damp.

“Yore lookin’ a bit soggy, mate. Didyer catch anythin’?” he called.

Lousewort slumped by the fire, waving away the cloud of steam rising from his ragged garments. “Er, er, I nearly

did, but I got pushed inter the water.”

Sneezewort picked up a small log and brandished it angrily. “Pushed in? Huh, show me the slab-sided blackguard

wot pushed yer!”

“Er, er, it was that big nasty-lookin’ weasel.”

Sneezewort threw the log on the fire, sighing resignedly. “Ah well, that one’s got ’is lumps comin’ someday. So,

you didn’t bring any vittles back at all?”

Lousewort produced a pile of dripping pondweed. “Er, er, only this. May’aps we can make soup out of it.”

His companion turned up a lip in disgust. “Yurgh, dirty smelly stuff, chuck it away!”

Lousewort was about to carry out his friend’s order when his paw was stayed. Sneezewort stared unhappily at the

mess of dripping vegetation, shaking his head, and said, “Take my ole helmet an’ fill it wid water. Pondweed soup’s

better’n nothin’ when yer belly thinks yore throat’s cut!”

Damug belched loudly and settled back to suck upon the bones of the tench he had just devoured. From the shelter

of an ash nearby he heard his title whispered.

“Firstblade!”

The Greatrat lay still, lips hardly moving as he answered, “Gribble, is that you?”

From his hiding place, the rat Gribble called in a low voice, “Aye, ’tis me. Lugworm’s gone over to Borumm an’

Vendace. From wot I ’card they’ll make their move tonight, Chief.”

Damug Warfang smiled and closed his eyes. “Good work, Gribble. It always pays to have watchers watching

watchers. I’ll be ready. Go now, keep your eyes and ears open.”

12

Russa Nodrey added twigs to the fire embers, peering upward at statey skies that showed between treetops that

morning. “Hmm, doesn’t look too good out there t’day. No point in leaviiT camp awhile, those vermin’d probably

ambush us afore we got out o’ these trees.”

Tammo looked up from the beaker of hot mint tea he was sipping. “Y’mean the rotten oF vermin are hiding in

these woodlands? I thought you said they’d ambush us out on the flatland.”

The wily squirrel pointed a paw at the sky. “So they would if it were fine weather, but put y’self in their place,

mate. You wouldn’t stand out in the open soakin’ an’ freezin’, waitin’ fer us to come out of a nice dry camp like this.

No, if’n you’d any sense at all you’d get under cover, out of the weather. They’re probably creepin’ through the trees

toward us right now.”

The young hare dropped low, drawing his dirk. “Are you sure that’s what the rascals are up to?”