Brian Jacques - [Redwall 03] - Mattimeo

“Excellent! Didn’t look like much, but it tasted wonderful. How many more of these have you got?”

Matthias shrugged. “As many as it takes. The Guosim are good cooks. All they need is a small fire, a

thin slab of rock and their own ingredients. But first I want to know more about that plateau. Is there a way

up?”

“Of course there is,” Sir Harry snorted, spraying crumbs over Cheek. “Nothing moves around here that

I don’t know about. I watched the fox and his band taking a slave line up there yesterday. There are rope

ladders on the top. They pulled them up so you couldn’t follow. How many shrewcakes in a batch?”

“Eighteen,” Log-a-Log told him.

“That many? Good! I’ll fly up and drop the ladders down, but don’t ask me to do any more. I stay well

clear of the toplands normally. It’s a strange world, too much death.”

Sir Harry did a short ungainly run and took off into graceful flight. He circled and wheeled, then flew

up to the clifftop.

Log-a-Log called the shrews together, issuing orders to the two on cooking duty. Basil and Matthias

marshalled the rest into lines ready for the ascent.

Jess Squirrel watched the top anxiously. “Look out, stand back, here come the rope ladders,” she

reported.

Bumping and unfurling their way down the cliff face, the twin ladders unravelled, stopping just short

of the place where Cheek stood.

Jess sprang on to one, scuttling up with all the agility of a champion climber, calling out as she went.

“Wait there. I’ll go to the top and make sure all is secure.”

Sir Harry came winging down. He stood counting the shrewcakes as the cooks laid them on the grass to

cool. Satisfied the total was correct, he turned to Matthias.

“Our business is concluded,

You’ve paid me what I’m due.

The journey ahead is perilous,

Good fortune go with you.”

Jess waved all clear from the top. Matthias and Log-a-Log mounted the rope ladders and began to

climb.

“Good luck and good eating to you, Sir Harry,” the warrior mouse called back. “I hope we meet again.”

The poetic owl bit into a shrewcake. He burned his tongue on the hot liquid honey but carried on eating

and muttering,

“Those that venture upward,

Are only the brave and insane.

Though I hate to predict,

From the path that you’ve picked,

I doubt that we’ll meet again.”

Matthias was too far up the rope ladder to hear. He was intent on reaching the plateau, regardless of

what lay in store.

Chapter 30

Foremole and his crew erected a barrier across the corridor next to the first-floor dormitory. The industrious

creatures had brought lots of special mole equipment with them, and they began laying a surprise for any

intruders who ventured down the spiral staircase towards the barricade. Foremole smiled and chuckled as

he supervised.

“Yurr, Jarge, lay it on good’n’eavy across yon stairs. Rooter, you’m sprinkle aplenty stonedust o’er the

top. Hurr, slap ’er on, Gaffer, doant be stingy with it. Ho arr, oi’d dearly loik to see anybeast put paw or

claw atop o’ that liddle lot.”

Shaking with glee, the moles stood back to admire their work. The bottom six steps had been liberally

smeared and coated with a thick layer of Blackmole Tunnel Grease and Rockslide Burgoo mixture, a

combination which often proved invaluable to tunnelling moles when they encountered immovable stones.

Over the top of this was sprinkled a fine layer of sandstone dust. To the casual eye it looked exactly like a

normal sandstone stair. Fine blackened tripwires had been stretched across the stairwell on the seventh and

eighth steps. Immediately in front of the barrier, facing the stairs, two green saplings were fixed in wall

torch brackets, bent back and held by a restraining rope, between them was tied an old blanket loaded with

a mixture of stones, soil and a special vegetable compound, mainly stinkwort and wild garlic pounded

together with dogs mercury plant.

Foremole covered his nose as he patted the huge catapult gently. “Ahurr hurr, we’m woant ’ave to

lissen for ’em after this!”

Rooter wiped tears of merriment from his eyes. “Boi ’okey we woant, ee’ll smell ’em a gudd day’s

march off, hurr hurr.”

Outside on the grass in front of the Abbey, Constance was covering for the mole activities with a decoy.

Any creature who could twirl a sling or fire an arrow was brought out to help.

Ironbeak and Mangiz had come out onto the bell tower roof with some rooks. They basked in the warm

morning sun, watching the pathetic attempts of the fighting squads below.

Ambrose Spike marched up and down in fine military fashion with baby Rollo in tow twirling a tiny

sling.

“Right, troops, here’s the drill. I want to see how many decent archers and slingthrowers we can

raise….”

Baby Rollo echoed the last words of each phrase. “Flingthrowers ’e can raise….”

“Now, when I give the command, fire and sling away at the bell tower. But mind, keep an eye on those

missiles. What goes up must come down.”

“Go up mus’ come down.”

“Be careful you don’t get a stone on your head or an arrow in your paw!”

“Narrow in y’paw!”

“Just a moment, Sister May. Point that arrow the other way, please, marm, otherwise you’ll end up

shooting yourself in the nose.”

“Shooten inner noses!”

Ambrose raised his paw. “Redwall defence volunteers. Ready, aim … fire!”

Most of the stones and arrows did not go even a quarter of the way up the bell tower. They fell short,

clattering off the solid masonry of Redwall Abbey.

General Ironbeak was amused at the puny efforts of the creatures below. He sat enjoying the spectacle

while his birds danced jibingly upon the roof, cawing and cackling insultingly.

“ Yakka. Hey, earthcrawlers, we’re up here!”

“ Cawhawhaw! What a bunch of ninnies.”

“Look at that old mouse, he’s slung himself on his back!”

“ Cahaha! Please shoot me. Look, I’m standing with my wings spread to make an easy target.”

“ Rakkachak! See that baby mouse, he tossed a rock up and it came down right between his ears!”

Ironbeak paced the stone guttering, hopping neatly on to a gargoyle spout.

“Fools! Why do they waste their energy like this, Mangiz?”

“Who knows, my General. Maybe it is anger at the death of the sparrows which drives them to do this.”

“Ha, idiots! Some too young, others too old, none trained in the way of the warrior.”

“True, Ironbeak. There is only the big stripedog who is dangerous. How can they hope to defeat us like

this?”

“ Kaah! You worry too much, Mangiz. Let them waste their energy. It is a fine summer day and the sun

will grow hotter. We will stay here and let them try to redouble their efforts. When they are tired out, we

will strike. I have a plan. Listen, my fighters. When you see me spread my wings, then dive as fast as you

can and go in pairs. Kill if you must, but try to pick one or two up. I want to see what the others do if we

are holding some of them hostages. Maybe then they will see it is no use trying to defy General Iron—”

Bong! Boom! Clang! Bongggggg!

The Matthias and Methuselah bells directly beneath the bell tower roof tolled out vigorously. The noise

was deafening to Ironbeak and his birds, separated from the bells by only a single layer of slates. Taken

completely off guard, they flapped off in all directions, cawing loudly.