Brian Jacques: Redwall #06 - The Outcast of Redwall

Swartt could be a charmer when required. Smiling disarm-ingly, he looked up at the Warlord and shrugged. “I can go many places an see many things, but to learn real wisdom an courage I return to the master.

Bowflegs vast bulk shook as he laughed. “Kyahaha! Dadds gudd, you still know who hes master!

Swartt stretched forward and kissed Bowflegs footpaw. “How could I forget, Lordyou taught me all I know. I was young and foolish when I ran away from here. I am wiser now.

The Warlord beckoned Swartt to stand upright. “Im glad to see you godd more sense, budd dont tink you be wiser dan me. Anybeast feel like dadd soon hes dead!

Sixclaw turned aside so the other could not see his eyes. “I must remember that, Lordtoo much wisdom can be the death of a creature, very good!

The old Warlord waved his scepter at the gigantic creature standing behind his throne, saying, “You see dis wizzel? E be Wurgg de Spinecracker. Dis one guard me nightnday, e slaved many manybeasts. You watch!

At a nod from his master, the giant weasel stooped and lifted the throne with Bowfleg sitting on it. Showing no sign of strain or effort, he held it chest high then lowered it slowly at Bowfiegs signal.

“Hwodd you tink o dadd, eh? the fat old ferret Wheezed.

Swartt was impressed. Cleverly he let his mouth fall open wide, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “Never did I see a ;fjeast of that size or power! Lord, you have both wisdom and Strength on your side, nobeast would dare to oppose you.

Bowfleg cocked his head on one side, staring at Swartt pensively. “Den why do you comm ere?

Swartt Sixclaw sat on the top step of the dais. “Only to you, Lord, and to tell you of the rich lands that lie to the south and west. Maybe one day I can travel there with you, as a Captain in your horde.

Bowfleg nibbed a fat paw across his stomach and began to laugh. “Kyahahakyukyuk! I dont travel nowheres, dis iss my land. Hwodd I wanna travel for, godd everytink right ere. I like you, Swam, you young, full of de big ideas. Ere you come oud of nowheres, raggedytaggle! Han wodd you bring me, eh? Spear? I godd many spears. Belts? Nodd bigg enough. Cup an wine? Who nidd dem?

“The spear is a symbol of your power, Lord, said Swartt, indicating the gifts one by one. “The belts are a sign of my support, but the wine is special, fit only for great ones. He uncorked the wine flagon and sniffed it delicately. “The oldest wine of the southlands, dark and sweet with the juice of elderberry and plum, specially for you.

He offered the bottle to Bowfleg. The Warlord sniffed it and smiled craftily. “Hyou tink I be stupid. Ere, I want to see you drink.

Swartt took the flagon, pausing as he held it to his lips. “You see. Lord, I learn from you all the time. If this wine were poison then I would be a deadbeast.... Tipping the flagon, he drank deep. “But I would be the stupid one if I offered you poisoned wine. It is good wine, the best, thats why I brought it to you.

Bowfleg watched Swartt a moment, on the lookout for ill effects, then said, “Give me somm, I tell you if it iss gudd wine!

Swartt offered the bottle, then, as if remembering his manners, he pulled back and filled the big silver drinking cup, which he passed to Bowfleg.

The Warlord smiled over the rim of the cup at him, “I still bes watchin you. Ow you feel, eh?

“Never better, sire. Swartt chuckled. “But if you still doubt me, then try the wine on your giant there.

The Warlord patted the massive weasels paw. “Ah yiss, my hfaitful Wurgg, comm drink.

The weasel lifted the chalice like an eggcup between two of his thick claws. He emptied it with a loud sucking noise and gave the cup back to his Lord with a smile and a single word: “Good!

Bowfleg put on a face of mock indignation as he looked up at Wurgg. “Hoi! I say hwodds gudd, give me somm a dis wine!

Swartt filled the cup three times before the greedy Warlord was satisfied. Bowfleg lounged back on the throne, confident that the new arrival posed no threat to his leadership. “Zo, hyou back now, Sixclaw, gudd, gudd! You go now, find you-self a tent, inna mornen we spikk more togedder.

Swartt knew he had been dismissed. He made an elegant leg and bowed before he left the tent, saying, “Sleep well, Lord Bowfleg!

5?

Dawn arrived wreathed in soft white mist, promising a mild sunny day. The drums beat out again over the scrub-scarred highlands, but this time the rat runners did not raise the alarm, for only one creature approached the camp. It was the vixen Nightshade, whom Swartt had purposefully instructed to follow him, leaving one days gap between their arrivals.

The rat runners kept their distance from the fox, considering her some kind of wild mystic. Nightshade did nothing to disabuse them of the idea, indeed, she had dressed to look the part. A tatty feather-trimmed cloak swirled about her painted and mud-daubed body, and she carried a long staff decorated with bones, hanks of hair and shells. It clanked and clattered as she shook it at the runners, chanting in a reedy quaver:

“Gurgling, rattling, final breath,

Brings me from Dark Forest gate,

I, the messenger of death.

King of Darkness, Lord of Fate!

Fires from the previous nights embers were being blown into life by a few early risers as the runners escorted the vixen into Lord Bowflegs hordecamp. Spying the main tent with its prominent pavilion, she made her way straight to it. Two stoat sentries guarding the closed tent flap moved nervously aside as the odd-looking fox grimaced and shook her staff at them. Nightshade stood in front of the entrance and howled a long eerie call.

“Hawoooooooo! I am the Seer! Ayaaaaaaaaai! Death has been here!

The runners and sentries were obviously frightened of the ragged vixen, who was now performing a crazy shuffling dance in front of the main tent. They huddled together, muttering.

“I wonder why Lord Bowfleg hasnt heard her?

“Aye, its strange that he hasnt sent Wurgg out to snap er scrawny neck an stop er caterwaulin like that.

“Well, Im not goin to try an move er!

“But we cant just stand ere, whats tbe done?

“I say we go an rouse the Captains, let them sort it out.

“Aye, good idea, mate, come on!

As word of the vixens arrival swept through the camp, the hordebeasts deserted tents and cooking fires en masse to follow the group of officers heading to the main tent. Two stoat Captains, Greenclaw and Aggal, together with a rat named Scraw, who was a senior Counselor, heard all the sentries and nmners had to say. They watched the vixen dancing and chanting in front of the closed pavilion entrance.

“Mightier than the Warlord, Who must come to his call,

I am but a messenger, Death rules over all!

Greenclaw was made of stern stuff. He drew his sword and, rapping out orders, pushed the vixen to one side. “Seize this one and hold er; Ill get tthe bottom o this! Greenclaw ripped the flaps aside and strode boldly into the tent. The other officers followed him in a bunch.

Lord Bowfleg sat slumped in his chair; the giant Wurgg was seated on the top dais step, his back against the throne legs. Both creatures looked as if they were merely sleeping, but the rat Scraw could see differently. He put his face close to Bowflegs, at the same time touching his footpaw to Wurggs limp form.

A short inspection was sufficient for Scraw. He turned to the assembly, shaking his head. “Dead, both dead! Not a mark on either of em. Who could have done this?

Greenclaw voiced his opinions so that all could hear. “I left Lord Bowfleg and Wurgg alive and well with Swartt yesterdaylets ask him!

The six-clawed ferret was dragged into the tent by four armed guards. He struggled free, shouting, “Getcher claws off me or Ill flay yeh alive!