Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

Dandin gave a wriggle of suppressed joy. "The sea! Well, that does change things, but we've still got these lizards to contend with. Look, there's more coming out of the swamp."

The lizards from the mud joined their fellows upon the trail, waving long, prehensile tails and strutting about slowly with sinuous reptilian grace.

Mariel weighed the situation carefully. "Hmrn, they haven't made any move to attack us yet. Maybe it's just a display of strength in numbers, though if we made a run for it they could easily stop us. This is their territory, they know it better than we do, and we're outnumbered at least ten to one. Right, one thing's clear we can't stand here much longer or something's bound to happen. I've got an idea that might work. Hold my Gullwhacker and give me that sword, Dandin. Don't ask questions, just trust me."

Wordlessly Dandin gave her the sword. Turning from her companions, the mousemaid faced the gathering of reptiles crowding the path. "Which one of you is the leader?"

There was no reply. The lizards merely stood staring at her.

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"Don't you have a chief, some creature in command?"

Further silence. Mariel brandished the sword of Martin. She gave a great leap and yelled, "Redwaaaalll! I am Mariel the Warrior. I'll fight you all together or one at a time! Come on, send your best killer out here and I'll meet him in combat! Lizards don't bother me, buckos. I've ate lizard stew before today."

Behind her she could hear Durry and the others snorting to suppress a fit of laughing giggles.

"Sounds like Mariel Stonehead to me!"

"Lizard stew? Oh I say, that's goin' it a bit!"

"D'you reckon they can understand her? Teeheehee!"

Mariel ignored them. She approached a large crested lizard who stood half a head above the rest.

"What about you, sliptongue? You're big and lazy enough to be a chief. Do you fancy your chance against Mariel the Warrior?"

The lizard blinked, turned slowly and walked majestically away, with Mariel shaking the sword at it.

"So, you're not only dumb, but cowardly with it! Well, let me tell you, slimenose, if any of your tribe try attacking my friends, you're the first one I'm coming after. I'll chop off your tail and stuff it up your nose! We're leaving now. I hope you'll heed my warning!"

Swaggering outrageously, the mousemaid joined her companions, telling them from the side of her mouth, "Right. Get moving. I'll stay at the back. Don't run, keep it to a brisk walk. Off we go!"

Tarquin led the way, almost helpless with laughter. "Good egg, Dandin. Did y'see that swagger? Hohoho, I thought she was going to wriggle clear out of her skin. Never seen anythin' so funny in all me life, young mouse."

"Haha, and did you see the way that big lizard looked at her when she called him slimenose? Cawhaw! His face was a picture."

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"Chop off his tail 'n' stuff it up his nose!"

Mariel stifled a chuckle, picturing herself as the others saw her. "Don't laugh too much, pals they're still following us."

And sure enough they were. Still silent, tongues flickering, eyes fixed staringly on the travelers' backs, the pack of lizards followed at an even pace.

"Not to worry, chums," Tarquin called back. "I can feel that breeze quite clearly now. Hey, d'you suppose the big chappie'd give me a ride on his back if I asked him nicely? After all, we are going the same way, aren't

we

00

Two hours later the swamp thinned out, overhanging trees became few and far between, and the path petered off, giving way to firm ground and fragrant gorse-bushes. But the greatest joy to the four travelers was the clear blue summer sky overhead. After days of dark forest and swamp, the fresh air tasted like springwater to them. They halted and looked back to the darkland swamp. The lizards were gathered on its fringes, still silent, flickering-tongued and beady-eyed, though some of them were preening and stretching in the sudden warmth of the sun, settling themselves down languorously to bask.

Free now of the reptilian threat, Mariel and her friends could not resist shouting their humorous goodbyes.

"Cheerio, you baggy-skinned blighters. Don't get your noses too muddy in the jolly old swamp, wot wot!"

"Bye-bye, tonguepullers. Give our regards to the old warty-skinned toad!"

"Yes, goodbye, you great bunch of dumbos. By the way, I've never tasted lizard stew before it'd prob'ly make me sick. 'Bye now!"

"Ta-ta, vermints. D'you think you could make your

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way to our Abbey someday, just in case my nuncle Gabe don't believe me when I tell 'm about 'ee?"

Across the gorsefields they trekked, toward a range of high hills which fronted the westerly edge. Seabirds wheeled in the sky above while the irrepressible Tarquin strummed away on his cracked harolina.

"O, I wouldn't go through the swamps no more,

Not for an Abbot's feast.

Not even for a kiss from Rosie dear,

Though she's a lovely beast.

Give me the summer sunshine,

Don't mind a cloud or two,

Rather than that bally bog

And a pot of lizard stew!"

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Graypatch and his searats were back sooner than any creature at Redwall Abbey expected. Smarting from the ignominious defeat and with the crew beginning to mutter behind his back again, the searat Captain decided to turn the tide in his favor with a shock attack.

He camped his crew farther up the path for the remainder of the night, waking them at dawn light to explain his scheme.

"Fire-swingers! That's the thing, buckosthe old fire-swingers!"

Bigfang was feeling a bit cocky now Graypatch's first attack had failed. "Fire-swingers me tail! I already tried fire, an' it didn't work. What's so good about your plan?"

Graypatch ridiculed Bigfang. "I'll tell you, matey. My plan'll work because I've got a brain an' you haven't. Rush the gate an' set fire to ithuh, I could think of a better plan than that in a storm at sea with both claws tied behind me back. So you either shut up an' listen, or I'll cut you loose in this country to fend for yerself, unnerstand?"

Bigfang subsided into sullen silence while Graypatch continued.

"Cut up all those lengths of rope we used for grap-

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nels, tie rocks to the ends, all wrapped in dead grass an' soaked with lamp oil. That'll make good fire-swingers. Now, we sneaks along that there ditch so's those Redwallers don't see us a-comin'. Then we gets out on the flatland, lights up our fire-swingers an' twirls 'em an' hurls 'em. Think of it, matesa good fire-swinger has more range than any weapon, so they won't be able to touch us with bows or lances or spears. We can stand around all season flingin' fire into their precious Abbey, an' they can't do a thing about it. Sooner or later some part of the buildin' will take flame. Haharr, then they'll be ready to talk terms, or be roasted alive. Well, what d'ye say, shipmates?"

The scheme was not greeted too enthusiastically, but Graypatch worked upon them, painting pictures of the good life to come when they would be masters of Redwall. His eloquence finally won, and they set about making large numbers of fire-swingers.

oo

Midmorning at the Abbey found a repair crew clearing away the debris from the previous night's battle. The front gates had been made good and piles of green branches and rubble stacked in front to prevent them being set alight again. Because the normal Abbey routine had been disturbed, a large late breakfast was being served upon the southern wallsteps. Friar Alder and his young assistant, Cockleburr, had made crusty country pasties, and these were being served with melted yellow cheese and rough hazelnut bread. There was new cider, strawberry cordial and a number of latticed pear and redberry tarts to follow. Bagg, Runn and Grubb were the heroes of the hour, regaled with outsize portions of everything as they related their feats of derring-do, embroidering and expanding as they pleased.