Part 7 (1/2)

Bageye had to think about it for a moment, then he gave a slow smile.

”Oh aye, huh huh, so it will.”

A long running chain was brought out, and the prisoners were made to stand as it was run through their manacled front paws and locked at either end. Mattimeo found himself standing between Auma and Tess; Tim and Sam were behind them. Slagar paced the line, checking links and shoving the captives into place. Satisfied that everything was in order, he pulled forth a strange-looking weapon and began twirling it about. It was a short wooden handle, from which ran three braided leather thongs, and at the end of each thong hung a round metal ball. They whirled and clacked sharply as he manoeuvred them expertly.

”I am Slagar the Cruel. You are my slaves now.” The silk sucked against his face as he spoke. ”When I say walk, you walk. If I say run, you run. If I decide you may live, then you will live. If I take it into my head that you may not live, then I will see to it that you die. If ever you should get the chance to escape or make a run for it, my little toy here will bring you back.”

The fox swung the weapon and hurled it. Flailing viciously, it wrapped itself around an oak upright at the end of some pews. The three metal b.a.l.l.s slammed hard into the timber, snapping it off like a dead twig.

As Fleaback retrieved the weapon, Slagar shrugged carelessly at the captives.

'If you had any back legs left at all after my little toy hit you, I'd have to dump you in the nearest ditch because a 82.

slave that is crippled for life isn't much use to anyone.” Mattimeo swallowed hard. The cruel one clearly meant every word he said.

Slagar turned to his aides. ”Threeclaws, Halftail, we strike south. Keep 'em moving fast. I want a day and a nighf s forced march to put as much distance as we can between us and RedwaU. Wartclaw, Tornear, bring up the rear. If it stops raining, then cover our trail. Use your canes if they start hanging back or turning the waterworks on. Right, quick march!”

The door was pushed aside as the straggling column made its way out into the torrents of rain that shook the leaves of every tree in Mossflower Woods.

It was early evening and the rain hammered down relentlessly. Abbot Mordalfus stood with Sister Agnes on the site of the feast. The roasting pit was a ma.s.s of soggy black embers. Mordalfus threw a sc.r.a.p of parchment into it.

”This was how the fox knew all about us,” he explained. ”It was Little Vitch who wrote all the information about us. We gave him a home and he was a spy in our midst. John Churchmouse saw him running with those ruffians when they fled.”

Sister Agnes's whiskers shook with indignation. ”The little hooligan! To think that we took him in, sheltered and fed him, and thaf s how he repaid us, by spying and noting it all down for the fox. Young Mattimeo should have given him a bit more of what he gave him in the orchard, Father Abbot, that's what I say.”

”I agree with you, Sister,” the old mouse sighed. ”Sometimes violence can be fair when it is used as a chastis.e.m.e.nt against badness. Is that Brother Sedge waving to us from the Abbey? Come, sister, there may be some news for us.”

As they walked over to Great Hall the Matthias and Methuselah bells rang out. They were out of sequence and not tolled with their usual vigour. Agnes pointed to 84.

the bell tower.

”That will be Cornflower, teaching baby Rollo to make our bells speak. How good of her, she's keeping little Rollo's mind off his mother. He still doesn't know she's dead.”

Sister Agnes wiped a tear away with her habit sleeve.

In Great Hall Matthias was drying himself off, in company with Basil Stag Hare, Warbeak and several of her sparrow scouts.

The Abbot shook a stern paw at them. ”Where did you go off to without as much as a word to me?”

Matthias tossed the towel aside wearily. ”We've been up the north road. Warbeak and her sparrows flew ahead of us. But the rain was too heavy, so there are no tracks.”

Basil blew droplets of rain from his whiskers. ”Tchah! Bally old rain. They've either travelled up that road a lot faster than we thought they could, or else cut off east into the woodlands or west out onto the plains. Couldn't make out a confounded thing with the old skyjuice pouring down like that.”

Warbeak fluttered her wings irritably. ”They worms, no can travel faster'n us with cart to pull. We catchem, you see.”

Abbot Mordalfus gathered up the wet towels. ”So, they could have travelled anywhere in three directions from the road. One thing is certain, no creature can track them in this rain, so what can we do?”

Thunder rumbled outside, a vivid lightning flash streaked across the windows of Great Hall. Basil twitched his ears miserably.

”No signs of this little lot lettin' up, old sport,” he said to Matthias. ”We're really at sixes and sevens, laddie. Can't sit around and twiddle our paws and can't get out and track'em.”

Matthias wiped his sword dry, gritting his teeth angrily. ”Track them or not, we can't let them get away with our young ones.”

85.

The Abbot folded both paws into his wide habit sleeves. ”We'll bury our dead and think hard while we're doing it.”

Ambrose Spike and Cornflower kept baby Rollo at their side as they tolled the bells that evening. The sky was leaden purple-grey, and rain poured ceaselessly as the procession of Redwallers marched solemnly to the burying place. Dressed in his ceremonial robe, the Abbot stood over the twin graves, at the foot of which two weeping willow saplings had been transplanted.

Tearfully the woodlanders pa.s.sed in single file, each leaving a small memento to their fallen friends, a young mousemother and a fat little Friar. Some brought flowers, others carried offerings of fruit and nuts, or a treasured object they thought might please, a paw-worked purse, a carved wooden ladle, a dockleaf made from green felt.

Matthias stood alongside Mordaifus, dressed in his full armour, bearing the sword. Together the warrior and the patriarch intoned the prayer for those who would rest forever in the Abbey grounds.

”Suns that set as seasons turn. Flowers grow and wither yet. Who can say what flame may burn, Friends that we have known and met. Look into the young ones' eyes. See the winter turn to spring, Across the quiet eternal lake, Ripples spreading in a ring.”

The rain continued unabated as they filed back to the Abbey, leaving Foremole and his crew to replace the earth gently over their fallen companions.

Supper was served in Cavern Hole. Many had no appet.i.te for food, Matthias least of all, yet he forced himself to eat his fill. So did Cornflower, as she fought 86.

back tears for her son and tried gallantly to cope with baby Rollo.

”Eat up, come on, all of you!” the warrior mouse urged his companions in a tight voice. ”There's nothing to be done except eat and store energy. Night has fallen and soon we must rest. But first thing tomorrow I will choose a rescue party. Rain or no rain, we strike norm again. I will make that masked fox wish that he had never arrived at our gates, and we will bring our young ones back home to Redwall where they belong.”

Rain slashed down through the bushes and trees, drenching slaves and slavers alike. Tess Churchmouse stumbled against Mattimeo and fell heavily into the chumed-up mud, causing the line of chained prisoners to come to a b.u.mping, clanking halt.

Halftail scurried up, swinging his cane. ”Gernip! Up on your paws, you t.i.ttle backslider.”

Mattimeo threw himself forward, catching the stinging blow that was aimed at Tess. Auma lent a paw to help the churchmouse.

”Up you come, quick, back into line and keep going. If s the only way to stay out of trouble,” the badger advised her.

Between them, Mattimeo and Auma hauled Tess upright and shunted her forward.

”Thanks for your help, friend,” Mattimeo said.

The young badger shook rain from her striped muzzle. ”Listen, I'll give you a tip to pa.s.s on to the others. Don't let the running line drag. Hold it in your paws like this, not too tight, and give yourself enough slack to move easily. That way you won't be tripping up so often.”

Mattimeo gratefully pa.s.sed the information to his friends. It worked well. However, Mattimeo was growing impatient with Cynthia Bankvole. She was constantly weeping, stumbling and dragging at the fetters. ”Why am I being kept prisoner and made to march through the rain and the wet like this?” she wailed piteously. ”I've 87.

never harmed any creature. Look, my habit's all muddy and soggy. Oh, why don't they let us sleep? I'm so tired!”

Mattimeo could stand it no longer. ”Oh, stop snivelling and whining, Cynthia!” he snarled angrily. ”You've dene nothing but moan and cry since you woke today.”

Tess Churchmouse interrupted his ill-tempered tirade. ”Mattimeo, don't speak to Cynthia that way! I'm sure your hither wouldn't talk to another creature like mat.”

Mattimeo tugged the chain rebelliously. ”Well, how am I supposed to talk to her? She's nothing but a whining nuisance. And another thing, why have I got to be like my father all the time?”

”Because you are the son of the Red wall Warrior, weak ones may look to you for defense and protection,” Tess replied in a level tone. ”Cynthia isn't as strong as you and she doesn't realize the danger we're in. No one has ever treated her in this cruel way before, and to add insult to injury, you start snapping and shouting at her. I know she's only a silly little vole, but that doesn't ent.i.tle you to be nasty to her.”

Mattimeo was dumbfounded. Tess was right, of course, but she had no reason to start shaming him within hearing of the others. He was about to start a justifying argument when Vitch strolled up, swinging his cane with a malicious grin on his face.