Brian Jacques - Martin the Warrior [Redwall 6]

The young otter looked so serious that the weasels were taken aback.

"Take no notice of Fleabane, young un. He's a fool," Rotnose apologized in hushed tones. "You carry on singin' yore charms, an'

sing an extra one fer me."

The two guards carried on their patrol arguing among themselves.

"Wobbly paws and grunge, I still don't believe it."

"Listen you, don't scoff at what yer don't know about. Lookit that mark on yer ear that could be the start of grunge."

"Where? What mark?"

"There, that sort of yellow mark on yer left ear. Can't yer see it?"

"Loafbrain, how c'n I see me own ear? Er, does it look serious?"

"Well, it wasn't there at the start of the season. I think we'd best learn the words of that charm. How does it go?"

"From flurgy paws and grungy tummy,

Spirit keep us free.

Wobbly whiskers an' dah de dah ..."

"Dah de dah yerself, boulder bottom. They're not the right words!"

Keyla laughed aloud as he made his way back to the compound.

5

Badrang ordered a wallguard to be posted night and day against the return of Tramun Clogg. He harbored no doubts at all that the pirate would be back, doubly bent on revenge and conquest. Extra guards were put to watch the slaves when they were quarrying stone, fishing or tending crops to feed the horde.

Felldoh's father Barkjon had wheedled himself on to kitchen duty.

He kept his old eyes and ears open, gathering all the information he could. In the slave compound at night he discussed it with others.

Since Martin's open defiance of Badrang and Felldoh's rock throwing, a new mood was beginning to make itself felt among the captives.

Keyla, Barkjon and a hedgehog named Hillgorse were a little bolder than the rest. They soon became the ringleaders of a rebellious little group that met each night around the compound fire. Barkjon was a squirrel with a wise old head, and everybeast listened when he talked.

"We must do all we can to help Felldoh and Martin escape, and the other little mouse Brome. If they can make it to freedom, I know that they will do all in their power to defeat Badrang and free us all.

Felldoh and Martin are the only ones ever to defy the Tyrant, I am certain that if they were on the outside they would not leave us here to rot in captivity."

There were murmurs of agreement from the creatures that crowded round to listen at the meeting. A mouse called Purslane, who sat with her husband and babe, called out, "Tell us what to do, Barkjon. We're with you."

"Get them extra rations to keep up their strength," Keyla answered for the old squirrel. "Shellfish or shrimp if you're out with a fishing party, crops or fruit if you work in the fields. They need to be fit if they're to escape."

A female otter named Tullgrew spoke up. "What if you work in the quarry like I do? How can I help?"

"Hinder, hamper, work as slowly as you can," Hillgorse answered her. "If at all able, try to steal anything that can be used as a weapon, tools, sharp rock shards, anything. They may all be needed someday."

"Don't listen to them. You'll only land us all in trouble."

Barkjon stood up and gazed out over the slaves. "Is that you, Druwp?"

A surly looking bankvole who was trying to hide behind others lifted his head. "Yes, it's me."

Tullgrew grabbed him and stood him upright. "Then don't hide at the back muttering, stand up and speak up face to face with others instead of slinking about."

"Go on, Druwp, have your say." Hillgorse nodded towards the bankvole.

It was clear whose side the bankvole was on when he spoke. "We're slaves, and it's better to be alive than killed trying to do foolish things.

Badrang and his horde are too strong for us. If you start stealing fish and crops and tools we'll all be punished. I don't want to be suffering for the foolishness of others. Count me out of your plans!"

Purslane threw a piece of firewood at Druwp. "Shut your snivelling little trap. I've seen you hanging around the guards and carrying tales.

You're a sneak, Druwp, a toady!"

Angry murmurs arose from the crowd. Barkjon held up a paw for order. When there was quiet he confronted the bankvole.

"Unfortunately, we cannot count you out of our plans, Druwp. You are one of us, therefore all we do affects you and anything you choose to do must affect us. Together we can be a stream, coursing its way powerful and silent. Even a small stream can wear away large rocks.

But separate us and we become as single droplets of water, ready to be scattered by the flick of a paw. You are either on our side, or you are with Badrang and his horde."

Druwp lowered his eyes avoiding Barkjon's gaze. "I am alone, I side with nobeast. Leave me to live my own life as I see fit."

Barkjon silenced the angry murmurings of the slaves with a growl.

"So be it, Druwp. No creature is forced to join us. You may stay alone.

But let me warn you, bank vole, if one word of our business reaches Badrang and his creatures, I will hold you responsible. When that happens you will be a deadbeast. I promise this!"

Druwp slunk out of the crowd to a deserted corner of the compound. The silence that followed was eventually broken by Keyla.

"Oh well, if that's all for tonight I'll be on my way. Feeding time for the prisoners, you know."

Rose and Grumm lay behind the rocks, watching Fortress Marshank, helpless and unable to approach the gates because of the two sentries who stood on the walltop keeping a lookout for the return of Tramun Clogg.

The mousemaid shook her head despairingly. "With those two up there we won't be able to communicate with our friend. What can we do, Grumm?"

"Oi says we sit'n toight an' wait. You'm friend be a cleverbeast, 'ee'll tMnk o' summat, miz, you'm see, hurr aye."

Inside the fortress Keyla was racking his young brains for an idea.

He poked scraps through the grating as he whispered to the prisoners below.

"They're guarding the walltop, mates. It's going to be difficult getting instructions to our friends out there. Any ideas?"

"Hey down there, what's all the whisperin' about? Are you talkin' to those prisoners? If ye are I'll lay me spearhandle across yer back!"

Keyla spread his paws wide appealingly. "Not me, sir. I haven't said a word. It's these poor wretches in the pit, they're callin' to me. They say that they've got the fever and they want to be let out."

Frogbit and Nipwort, the two rats who were on guard, looked at each other, taken aback by the news.

"Fever! I knew it, mate. Gurrad was shiverin' like a leaf last night.

He sat by the fire drinkin' wine, an' this mornin' said 'e was stayin' in

'is bunk cos of the pains in 'is 'ead."

"Nah, that was just through guzzlin' too much wine. There ain't no fever in this fortress, mate."

"No? Well, what about ole Fleabane, got a great yeller mark on 'is ear. It was bleedin' this afternoon!"

"Huh, that's cos the fool's been scratchin' at it to make it go away.

Nah, there ain't no fever 'ereabouts, take my word."

"That's exactly what I said, sir," Keyla called up to them.

"But these three down here are convinced they've got fever or plague or something horrible. Come down and take a look at them, sir."

"What do we want lookin' at mouldy prisoners," Nip wort scoffed.

"Our job is up 'ere lookin' out fer other things."

"Listen," Keyla whispered down to his friends, "they can't stop sick creatures shouting out feverishly. If Rose is outside she'll hear you."

Below in the pit Martin grasped his friends' paws.

"Who has the loudest voice, mates?"

Brome swelled his little chest out. "Try me, listen to this . .."

Cupping his paws, Brome yelled aloud in a piercing howl, "Somebeast, anybeast, can you hear me? Help us, there's fever down here!"