Brian Jacques - Martin the Warrior [Redwall 6]

Tullgrew, Keyla and Baby Fuffle leaned on each other, the tears coursing down their cheeks as they tried to stop laughing. Purslane was shaking with laughter herself as she swept Fuffle up in her paws.

"Come on, mischief. Time for bed. Are you coming, Groot?"

Purslane's husband Groot was saying his good nights to the others.

He passed Felldoh at the edge of the firelight. "Good night, Felldoh.

It's nice to see you smiling again."

The strong squirrel patted Groot's back as he passed. "Yes, it was very good night altogether!"

Brome had been watching Felldoh. He was rather puzzled by the squirrel's jolly mood. The young mouse lay down to rest near the campfire embers, next to Keyla and Tullgrew. The three lay staring at the myriad hosts of stars piercing the velvet cape of night.

"Felldoh is up to something," Brome said softly to the two otters. "I can't quite put my paw on it, but I'll swear he's hatching some plan or other."

Keyla half sat up. "Funny you should say that, Brome. I couldn't help watching Felldoh tonight myself. He's being far too smug, sort of secretive. Have you noticed anything, Tullgrew?"

"About Felldoh? Well, he's been going about patting backs and shaking paws, grinning like a demented frog. That's not like him, he's usually a dour creature these days."

Brome listened to the guttering fire crackle gently. So, it was not only he who had observed Felldoh acting oddly. "Listen, you two, I don't like it one little bit. In fact, I've been thinking. I'm going to follow that squirrel tomorrow and see what he's up to. Fancy coming along?"

Keyla and Tullgrew both nodded silently. Brome clasped their paws. "Good, as soon as it's light we stick to him like limpets!"

The campfire burned down to a tiny glimmer of light on the clifftops. Ballaw and Rowanoak snored gently in the cart, and a soft summer wind rippled the grass. The encampment slumbered peacefully in the calm night. Only Felldoh was still awake. He sat with his back against a rock, planning.

35

Dawn light crept over Noonvale in a golden haze. Unused to sleeping in a bed under a roof, Martin was up and about, feeling strangely light without the short sword tucked snugly at his side. He wandered about the settlement, marvelling at the beauty and proliferation of fruit and flower, a tribute to the industrious inhabitants. Sitting beside the waterfall, he enjoyed the cool atmosphere. Perch and trout could be seen gliding lazily in the crystal depths of a pool at the base of the falls. The young mouse stared at his reflection in a shadowed inlet. The marks of the deep scratches on his cheeks were still there, and his face was thinner, though the resolute jaw was firm and the eyes that stared back at him shone with the light of determination.

He was not surprised to see Aryah appear beside him. She placed her paws on his shoulders, watching his image in the water. "You are an early riser, Martin." "I could not sleep, but I see you are up early too." "Yes, I have spoken to Boldred. I have asked her to seek out Brome. What is the matter, Martin? Are you not happy here?"

"It is a beautiful spot."

"But you must soon return to Marshank?"

The young mouse flicked a pebble into the pool and watched it sink.

Aryah sat down beside him and patted his paw. "You and my husband Urran Voh are both alike in many ways, warrior and peacemaker, both walking different paths, but both stubborn and immovable. The world needs such creatures. Rose told me that the Tyrant holds your father's sword. Is that the reason you must go, to take the sword back from him?"

Martin stood up. He helped Aryah on to her paws. "Yes, the sword belonged to my father, Luke the Warrior. I swore a warrior's oath to him that I would never let another beast take it from me. I was little more than an infant when Badrang stole my sword, but now the seasons have given my paws the strength to take it back. You understand, I must do this, and I must free Marsh ank of slavery."

Martin thought he saw the glimmer of a tear in Aryan's eye.

"I understand, young warrior. The thing that grieves me is that Rose will go with you, no matter what I, or her father, may say."

Martin reached out, wiping the teardew from Aryan's cheek. "I will take far greater care protecting her life than I will my own."

Grumm ladled creamy pale batter on to a heated stone, grunting eagerly as he watched it cook. "Gurr, pan cakers. Oi dearly do luv pancakers wi brekkist."

His tiny nephew Bungo stirred a cauldron furiously. "Hurrhurr, an'

zoop, Nuncle Grumm. Doant furget 'ee

zoop!"

Grumm turned the pancake over. "Gurrout you'm darft liddle moler. 'Ow could oi furget zoop! Yurr, doant stir et too farst, you'm ull spoil et."

Bungo's tiny paws were a blur as he stirred faster and faster.

"You'm doant tell oi 'ow to stir zoop, oi been doin' et since oi were nought but a liddle un. Pay 'tenshun to thoi pancakers!"

Tables and forms had been set out under the trees in the sun splashed shade, and creatures bustled to and fro with breakfast items. Rose dashed by Martin. She was carrying a tray of hot pancakes spread with honey and decorated with pear slices and raspberries.

"Out of my way, sir, or you won't get breakfast today!"

Martin sprang nimbly aside and bowed low. "My apologies, marm.

Nothing should get in the way of good food!"

"Then don't get in the way, lend a paw over here!" Pallum shouted across as he staggered under an immense beechwood bowl of fruit salad.

Mice, hedgehogs, moles and squirrels called out their morning greetings to each other as they went about their chores. Every creature helped until the tables were ready. Little ones scrubbed from tail to eartip and freshly besmocked clambered up on to familiar laps. Young ones, giggling and gossiping together, sat next to their closest friends.

Old ones and parents made sure their families were comfortable before perching in their time honoured positions at table. When every creature was settled, Urran Voh recited the grace and the meal began in earnest.

"Pass the barleybread, please!"

"Ooh, it's hot! Mind your paws."

"We'm bain't 'ad a gudd pancake since Grumm been away. Parss they yurr, Gumbler!"

"Martin, would you like some fruit salad? It's very good!"

"Thank you, Rose. Here, try some of this maple and buttercup wafer."

"Oh yes please. Auntie Poppy baked them they're my favorite.

Teaslepaw, can you stop baby Bungo dipping those pancakes in the soup!"

The hedgehog maid put aside her maplescone and tried to prevent the infant mole from dipping a pancake that oozed honey into the leek and mushroom soup.

Bungo eyed her indignantly. "Keep thoi spoiky paws offen oi an' eat thoi own brekkist, mizzy."

Grumm nudged Pallum as the hedgehog finished off a heavy slice of nutbread. "That Bungo be a liddle savage. He'm rooned a gurt pot o'

zoop sturrin' et loik a wurlywind. Oi maked a speshul pot, jus' fur you'n oi. Do 'ave some."

Pallum ladled the broth into his bowl.

"Thankee, Grumm. Mmm, smells nice!"

"An' so et should, hurr. Oi maked et wi' roses an' onions an' daisies an' carrot, an' plums an' turnip too, ho aye, gudd zoop! An' oi sturred et slow, not loik some villyuns not arf a league from wurr oi sits!"

After breakfast, Rose showed Martin round the orchard. Plums, greengages and damsons, hung red, yellow and purple amid other trees bearing pears, apples and cherries. Neat rows of raspberry, blackcurrants, bilberry and redcurrants provided a border between the orchard and the vegetable garden. At the far end of the orchard a crew of moles was digging around a gaunt dead sycamore tree. Grumm was helping. He greeted them with a wave of his huge digging paw.

"Hurr, look at oi, not 'ome a twoday an' oi'm back at work!" He explained that they were digging to bring the dead sycamore down. It would be cut up and used as stump seats around the waterfall pool.