Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

"Come an' fight, you frog-livered schemer. I'll carve you to fishbait!"

Graypatch balanced an iron marlinspike in his claw. Taking careful aim, he flung it. The pointed missile hissed out across the rippling waves. Standing almost chest-deep in the water, Garrtail had little chance to dodge or leap out of the way; it caught him between the eyes. The Captain of the Greenfang fell backward into the sea, slain instantly. His crew, on seeing their leader dead, milled about in the water betwixt ship and shore. All heart for the fight had deserted them now they were without a Captain.

"Ahoy, Graypatch. Lookit what we found!"

Bigfang and Kybo came splashing into the shallows with two galley slaves, all four laden with pikes, long boathooks and bows and arrows. Graypatch snapped out swift orders, his clever brain working fast.

"Kybo, you stay here with half the crew as archers. Keep pouring arrows at 'em, hard as you can fire high over the pikers. Bigfang, take the other half of the crew and wade a bit deeper. Stick any of the Greenfang crew who try to get ashore an' circle behind us. Deadglim, give me yer burnin' glass an' a bow 'n' arrows."

With its unanchored keel scraping gently off the sea bottom, the Greenfang began a slow drift away from shore with the outgoing tide. The crew split two ways, some trying to swim back to ship, the other, bolder spirits wading toward shore, yelling as they thrust their swords at the pikerats.

Kybo and the archers had easy targets, arching their arrows over the top of the pikers into the unprotected backs of those who were swimming to the ship. Their

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screams mingled with the angry yells of those with pitifully short swords, trying to do battle with long

pikes and boathooks.

oo

On shore, Graypatch had soaked rags in lamp oil and bound them around arrowpoints. In the hot sun it was the work of a moment with a burning glass to concentrate the sunrays into flame upon oil-soaked rags. Kybo followed behind, carrying the fire arrows as Graypatch waded out, testing the wind to make sure it was with him. The first arrow blurred high over the heads of the searats like a red comet, arcing into the big mainsail of Greenfang. Two others followed swiftly. One stood quivering in the stern, the other burying itself deep into the mast.

Graypatch amused himself by firing the remaining fire arrows at the helpless rats who were still trying to swim for the ship. He laughed aloud as one wretched creature sank with a sizzle and a scream. All around, the water ran red with blood as the breeze stirred the flames to a roaring inferno. Bodies of the wounded and the slain followed the blazing Greenfang out on the ebbing tide. Graypatch, his single eye illuminated red in the glare, called out, "Make sure there's none left alive to tell the tale, mates. Haharr, Gabool will never know what happened to us an' the Darkqueen, or Garrtail an' the Greenfang. D'ye hear me, Gabool! Blast yer eyes, lungs 'n' liver, wherever ye are!"

As the searats waded ashore, Bigfang muttered to Kybo, "Graypatch is gettin' too big fer his seaboots, matey. There'd be no victory today if I hadn't found those bows an' arrows, mark my words."

Kybo agreed wholeheartedly, though under his breath. "Aye, did y'see him there, yellin' an a screamin' to kill Greenfang's crew down t' the last rat? I'll bet some o' those buckos would've joined us. We all had mateys among that crew, but they're gone to Hellgates now."

Bigfang flung his pike upon the sands. "Right you

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are, shipmate. I think we've a come out o' the frypan into the fire here. Graypatch is startin' to act up as wild as Gabool. Did ye hear the way he was yellin' at me fer drinkin' water earlier? I take that from no searat, Captain or not. Still, we'll bide our time, eh, matey."

Graypatch wandered over and slapped Kybo with the flat of his swordblade. "C'mon, gullywhumper. Back aboard the Darkqueen. We can afford to wait the night floodtide to send us across the shore now. No more pullin' her on towropes."

Kybo turned to look at the last of the Greenfang, wiping smoke from his smarting eyes as the blazing

hulk drifted seaward.

oo

Gabool was in a foul temper. Most of his servant slaves had gone to the galleys of the three ships under repair, and he was left with only four. Blinking his red-rimmed eyes, he watched them polishing his bell. The Warlord was afraid of the night; sleep brought with it only nightmares of avenging mice, fearsome badger figures and the angry boom of the bell, tolling around his brain like a harbinger of doom. Virtually alone now in Fort Bladegirt, he did not have the satisfaction of asserting his power as King of all Searats. There was nobeast to plot against, to bend to his will, only sitting around waiting and festering with hate for his one-time ally Graypatch. He aimed a kick at a dormouse who was down on all fours furiously rubbing away at the great bell.

"You there, scabpaws. Where's my food?"

The slave continued polishing, not daring to stop as he replied, "Master, I am not a cook. You sent the cooks away to your ships. All I do is polish your bell as you have told me to."

"Get me something to eat and drink," Gabool snarled. "You're a cook now."

The dormouse dropped his rag and bowed, trem-

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bling. "Master, I cannot cook. I am only a bell polisher ..."

Gabool's cruel claws dug into the slave's body as he drew him upright, glaring at him through sleepless sore eyes.

"Get down to the kitchens, and light a fire. You'll find dead seabirds thereroast me a few, bring wine too. Get out of my sight!"

As the dormouse picked himself up and scurried off, Gabool vented his spleen on the remaining three slaves.

"Out! Get out, all of you! Leave me, I want to be alone."

Gabool flung a knife at the last dormouse to disappear around the door. It clattered harmlessly off the wall, and he slumped dejectedly in his chair. "Must be losin' me touch. Should've pinned him easily."

The afternoon sun slanting through the window cast its warmth over him. Gabool's tired eyes began to droop. He sighed as his chin slowly sank onto his chest. Outside, the sounds of the restless sea grew distant. Finally sleep overcame the King of Searats; his eyes closed and his head slumped gently forward in the quiet summer noontide.

A badger was advancing upon him, a huge warlike badger brandishing a broadsword that made a searat blade look like a toy. He turned in fear. A mouse had crept up behind himit was the one he called Skiv she was carrying a heavy knotted rope and the light of battle was in her eyes. Somewhere he could hear Graypatch laughing, a contemptuous mocking sound . . .

BongW

Gabool sat bolt upright, wide awake. There was no creature in the room save himself . . . And the bell.

oo

"Well, what a riddle t'be sure. I'll bet even Hon Rosie couldn't make head nor tail of this jolly old thing. Wot, wot?"

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Mariel aimed a candied chestnut at Tarquin and threw it. He merely caught it in his mouth and munched reflectively. "Course, y'know, I've never seen her solvin' riddles and whatnot. Bet she's bally clever at it, though. Hon Rosie's pretty good at most things."

Mellus stuck a huge paw under Tarquin's nose. "Listen, doodlehead, if I hear you mention Hon Rosie one more time ..."

The friends sat at table in Cavern Hole. They were not to be disturbed, on the Abbot's orders. Outside in Great Hall the rest of the Redwallers took supper and chased reluctant Dibbuns around in an effort to get them washed and up to their beds. Mariel picked up the scrolls from amid the supper-laden table.

"There's no puzzle or mystery about it, the whole thing's a straightforward map in rhyme. Maybe we don't know what certain things areFieldroan the Traveler had an odd way of expressing himselfbut don't worry, I'll find out what it all means as I go along."