Brian Jacques - [Redwall 03] - Mattimeo

woodlander, right?”

Auma nodded glumly. “No, I’m from the western plain. I’m a flatland badger.”

“I be woodlander, tellem ’bout woodlander rule, mouse.” Scurl smiled disarmingly.

Tess turned to Auma. “He’s right, we have a woodland code. All honest and true woodlanders are

pledged to help each other and never to harm a living creature.”

Scurl removed Auma’s paw and patted it in a friendly way. “You see, stripedog.”

Before anyone could lay another paw on him, Scurl was away like a streak. He dashed back into the

long grass, far from where the chained-up captives could reach him. They could see the red flash of his

underside as he danced and pranced about.

“Sillybeast, sillybeast, trusting me.

Made you think I had a key.

Stupid you, clever me,

Scurl has pretty gifts for free.”

Angrily Auma tore up a huge sod of earth and flung it with all her strength.

Clumph!

It struck Scurl, knocking him flat. The crested newt lay for a moment then pulled himself up, spitting

out gritty black earth and rubbing soil from his eyes.

“Might have adda key, might have letcher free, but you’ll never know now, willyer.”

He scampered off into the night forest.

“What’s all the shouting about here?”

Slagar and Threeclaws stood over the captives. Between them they had a small hedgehog. Threeclaws

stooped to manacle the hedgehog to the running chain.

“I said, what’s all the noise about?” Slagar repeated.

Tim grunted wearily. “Oh, nothing really. That great lump of a badger was rolling over in her sleep and

pulling me about on the chain.”

Slagar kicked at Auma, “Well, you won’t have to worry about sleeping right now, we’re marching

again.”

A groan arose from the prisoners. Threeclaws ignored it, and glanced across his shoulder into the

woodlands.

“Come on, let’s get moving. We can be well away from this place by morning,” he said.

Slagar called Vitch. “You and Browntooth stop at the rear and cover the tracks. I don’t want that

hedgehog’s family knowing which way we’ve gone.”

Sleepily they ploughed onward through the night-time woodland. A crescent moon above winked at them

through the softly swaying treetops. Mattimeo caught a glance of Tess. She was brushing away a tear.

“Tess, what’s the matter?”

The little churchmouse sniffed and dried her eyes.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Only that seasonday present was the last thing I had to remind me of Mum and Dad

and Redwall. Do you think we’ll ever see them again, Matti?”

Mattimeo suddenly felt grown up and responsible. “Of course we will, Tess. Take my word for it, I

promise you.”

“Thank you, Mattimeo.” Tess managed a small smile. “The word of the Redwall Warrior’s son is good

enough for me.”

“Stop that talking down there and get in line. Keep moving, d’you hear!”

The little hedgehog nudged Auma. “Where are they taking us? Do they always shout like that?”

“Hmm,” the badger yawned. “They’re always shouting about one thing or another, though where

they’re taking us, well, your guess is as good as mine. I’m Auma. What’s your name?”

“Jube.”

“That’s a good name.”

“Glad you like it. I don’t. It’s short for Jubilation. I’m the only male in a family of ten females. You

should see my sisters, great big bullies they are. When I was born Mum said to Dad: ‘It’s not a female.

What’ll we call him?’ My old dad was so pleased he shouted: ‘O Jubilation!’ But you can call me Jube. I’d

dearly hate to be this Slagar fox when my family catches up with him and these rascals.”

For the first time in a long while the friends found themselves chuckling at the young hedgehog. He

seemed quite unconcerned that he had been made captive, looking on it as only a temporary measure until

his family caught up with the slavers.

Mattimeo dearly wished he could share Jube’s optimism.

Chapter 16

Cheek the young otter was never still. He kept bounding ahead of Jess, Matthias and Basil and running

back to chide them.

“Come on, it’ll be the middle of next season before we get anywhere, the way you plod along.”

Basil sniffed and shot a frosty glare at Cheek. “Out of m’way, scallawag. We’re following a trail and

you’re jumping over the pawprints. See, Matthias, here and here. I’d stake me reputation there’s two of ’em.

Weasels, prob’ly.”

Cheek wrinkled his whiskers impudently. “Oh, for goodness sake! I know that, I’ve found their

weapons up ahead.”

Jess grabbed Cheek by the paw. “Where? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Huh, ’cos you never asked me, that’s why. You’re always too busy tellin’ me off. ‘Don’t run, come

here, go there….’ ”

Jess released the young otter. “Right, show us.”

They ran behind Cheek as he bounded and scampered between the trees in the early morning sunlight.

Suddenly he stopped and pointed.

Matthias was hurrying forward when Basil pulled him back as his paws began sinking.

“Steady on, old chum, it’s a bally swamp. Now then, young feller m’laddo, see the danger of dashing

ahead?”

The Warrior hopped to the firm ground, aided by Basil. “Wait, I’ll cut a long branch and we’ll fish those

weapons back.”

It was the work of a moment for Matthias to lop off a long larch branch. Jess held tight to Cheek as the

young otter fished the weapons onto solid earth. They stood looking at the shattered spear and the curved

sword which had been snapped clean through the center of its blade. Basil gave a low whistle of

amazement as he turned the ruined weapons over with his paw.

“Blow me down, what sort of creature has the strength to do this?” he wondered.

Matthias tossed the larch branch like a spear. It hit the bogland and disappeared like a stone in water.

“Well, whoever it was, there were two weasels who were so terrified that they ran the wrong way.”

“Yukk!” Cheek shuddered. “What a horrible way to die, swallowed up by a swamp.”

“Aye,” Basil Stag Hare nodded grimly. “Though ’twas all the villains deserved. Hmm, doesn’t help us

much, though. If we’d got to those two stinkers first we might have found out exactly where they were

heading for. Now the bally old trail’s completely cold.”

Matthias silenced his companions with a wave of his paw. “Ssshhh! Don’t say anything, just listen.

What can you hear?”

Basil’s ears twitched this way then that. He faced south with his whiskers aquiver. “Battle, fighting,

some sort of old ruckus goin’ on over that way, I think.”

The warrior mouse unloosed the great battle blade from its back sheath.

“Cheek, stay behind. Jess and Basil, come on, let’s take a look!”

Throughout the night Abbot Mordalfus had tossed and turned on his simple bed in the dormitories above

Great Hall. Sleep had eluded the old mouse. With the arrival of dawn’s first light he rose and crept quietly

between the sleeping ranks of woodlanders. Ambrose Spike snored gently, pausing to snuffle and mutter in

his dreams as the Abbot stole past him and carefully lifted the door-latch.

The rising sun flooded through the high east windows, sending a cascade of golden light to wash the

west side of Great Hall, turning the old red stone to a dusty rose pink. Mordalfus stood facing the wall,

allowing the warmth to caress his back. Through half-closed sleep-weary eyes, he looked upon the figure of

Martin the Warrior at the center of the huge tapestry, bold and fearless. Swaying slightly on his paws, the