Brian Jacques - [Redwall 03] - Mattimeo

Slagar strolled to where two weasels, Drynose and Damper, stood guard over the expedition’s food and

water. Pushing them to one side, he took the three large water canteens and carried them to the head of the

bridge.

“What d’you mean ‘bargained’? You’re not here to bargain, you are here to obey orders. You, Skinpaw,

show them how it’s done. A weasel like you isn’t afraid of crossing a bridge.”

Skinpaw shook his head vigorously. “Ask me to do anything, Slagar, anything. March, fight, climb

mountains, cross rivers … but not that!”

The silken masked fluttered. The Cruel One seemed to be smiling beneath it. He turned to his slavers

one by one.

“You, Halftail, or you, Vitch? How about you, Scringe? Or Bageye there? No?”

They remained silent, while Slagar spoke as if he were cajoling nervous young ones.

“Oh, come on now, it’s only a little bridge across a gorge. Besides, do you see the bushes and trees on

the other side? There’s a lovely little pool there, full of nice cold water. Just think, you can drink all you

like.”

Skinpaw eyed the canteens that Slagar held.

“We’ve got water, Chief,” he pointed out.

The fox swung the canteens out wide, letting go of them. He leaned over, watching them disappear into

the abyss.

“Where? I don’t see any water. Now, you spineless toads, listen to me. You have a choice: either you

cross this bridge and drink water, or you stay on this side and die of thirst!”

Threeclaws was the first to go. He stepped gingerly out onto the swaying bridge, gripping the rope

sides tightly. Carefully he tested each wooden slat before putting his weight on it.

When he was a short way out Slagar called, “Fleaback, Scringe, pick that line up and start the prisoners

going. Halftail, you go with them. The rest of you follow after they’ve crossed.”

Encouraged by Threeclaws’ slow but sure passage, Fleaback and Scringe stepped onto the bridge,

tugging the leadrope.

“Come on, you lot. Step lively, and no hanging back or stumbling,” Scringe chivvied them.

Mattimeo could not shut his ears to the sobbing of Cynthia and Jube, who were in a state of frozen shock.

He tore a strip from the hem of his habit and bit it into two pieces.

“Here, Tess, put these around their eyes. Cynthia, Jube, listen. Hold on to Tess and Auma, and keep

going. You’ll be all right.”

The trick worked. Groping awkwardly, the blindfolded creatures held tight to Tess and Auma, who,

though they were both frightened of the swaying, sagging bridge, found that a lot of the fear was taken out

of the crossing by attending to Cynthia and Jube.

Only Sam Squirrel was totally fearless about the bridge. At one point Tim had to remonstrate him for

making the structure wobble with his jaunty walk.

“Hey, go easy, Sam,” he called nervously. “There’s others on this bridge not as clever as you at crossing

gorges.”

“Oops! Sorry, Tim. Never mind, we’re nearly over now.”

Mattimeo tried not to glance down into the bottomless depths. He dearly wished he had his paws on

firm ground again.

The crossing was made without incident. Safely on the other side, everybeast breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Slagar led them a short way into the bushes.

“There’s the pool. Drink as much as you like. Threeclaws, see they’re fed and watered, then secure the

line. Halftail, come with me.”

Slagar walked back to the edge of the gorge. While Halftail watched, he crossed back over the bridge.

Then the masked fox got out flint and steel. It did not take long to get the dust-dry ropes burning. As soon

as they were alight he bounded onto the bridge and crossed back with surprising speed and agility.

Chuckling to himself, he watched the ropes burn through. The bridge swayed and collapsed with a clatter

of wooden slats as it struck the wall of the chasm beneath them. Slagar took Halftail’s dagger and sawed

through the taut ropes which held the weight of the bridge. He leapt back as the whole structure slipped

away with a creaking, groaning snap. They waited awhile, but there was complete silence from the depths

of the abyss.

Slagar smiled. “See, completely bottomless. Nobeast can follow us now!”

Chapter 36

A full-scale council was in progress at Cavern Hole. Winifred the Otter winced as Sister May applied

poultices and herbs to her deeply scratched back.

“Aaahh! Go easy, Sister, that’s the only back I’ve got. Ouch!”

Sister May went about her task, ignoring the protests. “Hold still, you silly otter! You were told not to

cross Great Hall, but you would not listen. Stop wriggling while I attend to this scratch on your ear.”

“Ow! What are you trying to do, pull me lug off? That ear’s got to last me the rest of my life, you

know!”

Constance pointed to Winifred. “As you can all see, she was injured merely trying to cross Great Hall.

You must stay down here. Ironbeak and his birds are waiting in the galleries, and if one of us so much as

shows a whisker outside Cavern Hole he or she will be slain. Winifred was lucky, she was swift enough to

get away. Under no circumstances must you try to leave here. Besides, where would you go?”

“Well, I for one would go to my little gatehouse cottage,” Cornflower answered. “Or I might gather

fresh fruit and vegetables and water. It seems to me we’re letting this Ironbeak have it all his own way.”

There were shouts of agreement.

The Abbot called for order. “Please! Our first concern is the safety of every creature here. We must stay

where it is safe. There are plenty of stores. The cupboards and larders are well stocked, there is ample food

in the kitchens and we have the entire stock of the wine cellar available. I have spoken to Brother Trugg

and the only shortage will be fresh water. It must be used only for drinking. Bathing, washing and other

uses are forbidden.”

There was a lusty cheer from Rollo and some other young ones camped beneath the table.

“I’m glad someone approves,” Constance smiled. “Well, if that’s all we’ll just have to put up with the

situation for a while.”

“Put up with the situation indeed!” John Churchmouse snorted indignantly.

Cornflower laughed aloud. “Oh, John, you sounded just like my Matthias then.”

At the mention of the Warrior’s name a silence fell.

“I do hope our young ones are safe,” Mrs. Churchmouse fretted. “When I think of my Tim and Tess

and Sam Squirrel and Mattimeo and Cynthia, where they may be now, or what those villains may do to

them…. Oh, I do hope Matthias brings them back safe to us.”

She broke down in tears.

“There, there, m’dear,” John said, patting her gently. “Don’t you cry, they’ll be all right.”

Baby Rollo began patting her skirt from underneath the table, clucking in an imitation of John

Churchmouse. “There, there, me dear. Don’t oo cry, be all right.”

Every creature laughed, and even Mrs. Churchmouse managed a smile through her tears.

Ambrose Spike lifted Rollo up onto the table. “That’s the stuff, old Rollo. You get all these wet blankets

cheerful again. Right, what’s next, you little ruffian, eh?”

The tiny bankvole wrinkled his nose, uttering a single word: “Plans!”

The hedgehog shook his head in admiration. “There y’are, out of the mouths of baby beasts an’ innocent

creatures. Plans! That’s what Matthias would have said if he were here, stiffen me spikes. He wouldn’t want

us mopin’ an’ cryin’.”