Mattimeo Part 21

"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 earing 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.

223.

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 daw 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 224.

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 mis!"

Rooter wiped tears of merriment from his eyes. "Boi 'okey we woant, ee'll smell 'em a gudd day's march off, hurt hurr."

Outside on the gra.s.s 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 fas.h.i.+on 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!"

225.

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.

"YaWa. Hey, earthcrawlers, we're up here!"

"Qnvhawhaw! 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 226.

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.

Below in the belfry. Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse heaved and tugged furiously on the bellropes, their paws leaving the floor at each recoil. Bongdingboomclangbangbong!!!

Ironbeak was last to leave the roof. He tried calling to his warriors, but his voice was lost in the clanging melee. With his head resounding to the metallic cacophony through to his very beaktip, the raven flapped off heavily into the air.

John Churchmouse clapped Ambrose upon the back.

'That'll teach 'em to laugh at our army, eh, my old Spike!"

Constance opened the Abbey door. "Come on inside, I'm dosing the door now, I hope we gave Foremole and his crew time to set their surprise up."

With his head still ringing from the bells, Ironbeak flew under the eaves to the roofs.p.a.ce in a black rage.

"Mangiz, take four with you and see if you can pick up any lone stragglers outside. The rest of you follow me. Get that roof trapdoor open quickly. We'll fly inside to the upper gallery and beat them to the stairs."

"Beat what chairs. Chief?"

The crow had not recovered his hearing properly. Ironbeak buffeted him flat with a hefty wing blow.

"I said 'beat them to the stairs,' antbrain. Now get that trapdoor up and follow me."

Halfway across Great Hall, Abbot Mordalfus b.u.mped into Constance. The badger glanced up. "Dust!" she exclaimed. "They're opening up the ceiling 227.

trapdoor. Quick, clear the Hall. Let* s get upstairs. By the way, Abbot, well done with the bells."

As they pounded up the stairs, the Abbot called to Constance. "I thought the bells were your idea. I knew nothing of it until I heard them ringing."

"Well, whoever it was, they struck just the right note, hahaha."

Both parties reached the barricade area at virtually the same time. The Red wallers stopped behind the barricade. Ironbeak could not fly on the spiral stairwell, so he came hop-skipping round the stairs in front of his fighters and hit the first tripwire.

Unable to stop himself and being jostled from behind, he injured his dignity and his bottom by hying to pull back and slipping heavily upon the grease. It was utter confusion, feathers, beaks, claws and wings ma.s.sed in an insane jumble as the warrior birds tried to stay upright on the curving stairway. They slithered and b.u.mped, slid and collided, slipped and cracked wings, talons and heads together. Black slimy grease pounded into a gritty porridge and the stonedust was everywhere. Each time a bird tried to regain its balance the situation worsened. "Yggah, leggo, you're pulling me over!" "Gerroff, you're all slimy . . . whoops!" "Yafcfairr.' You're breakin' me wing!" "Get your greasy claws off me. Take that!" "Yugg, muy beaksh fulluv greas.h.!.+"

On the other side of the barrier, the Redwallers danced with glee. They imitated the scorn the birds had heaped on them from the bell tower roof. "Cawhawhaw, what a bunch of ninnies!" "Whaf s the matter, can't you stand on your own two legs!" "I'll say he can't, his pal's standing on them for him.

Ha ha!" "Ho ho! Come and get.us, we're over here, it's not far to walk."

228.

"Yurr, 'ello, greasybeak, 'ow do you loik a taste o' molegrease?" Foremole waved a sharp knife aloft. "Geodown flat naow, gennelbeasts, yurr she goo's!"

He severed the catapult rope with a single slash.

Chaos was added to confusion.

The huge slingload shot forward, flattening birds who were trying to stand. Rocks, soil and rotting vegetable matter pounded in a torrent upon the floundering birds. The evil-smelling compound enveloped them.

Completely defeated, the birds slithered messily up the stairwell. Ironbeak tried to spit the evil concoction out as he thudded and b.u.mped his way up, sometimes slipping back a stair, often falling heavily against the walls. All around him his warriors suffered the same predicament. Floundering, cursing and skidding, they beat an ignominious retreat, with the laughter of the Redwallers ringing in their heads.

"Hahaha, wash that little lot off."

"Hope you've got a birdbath up there, hohoho!"

"Heeheehee, I suspect foul play!"

Ironbeak supported himself against the wall.

"Yaggah! You've signed your death warrants," he threatened. "The moment you set paw outside, we'll be waiting on the rooftops. You will be slain without mercy."

"Yah, go and boil your beak. General Pongo!"

It was a long hot day in the crowded trench. The sun's rays baked through the covering of boughs as slaves and slavers alike tossed and turned in the cramped conditions. Only Stonefleck sat calm and motionless. Slagar wiped his paw round under the silken face mask.

"If it gets any hotter, we'll roast. Maybe we should have tried to cross the river before dawn, eh, rat?"

"You would have been caught out on the open water in daylight. That means death."

Slagar scratched moodily in the sandy soil. "Your mob /jt had better be ready as soon as the sun sets."

229.

Stonefleck's expression did not change. "They will be."

Mattimeo moved restlessly in his sleep. Dreams of the dark forest they had left echoed through his mind.

Matthias and his friends ate as they marched across the plateau with the shrews. Log-a-Log pointed out the slavers' tracks.

"Nice and clear, still travelling due south."

Orlando's face was grim. "Aye, the fox didn't suppose we'd be following him."

Basil shaded his eyes. "I say, that looks like a gloomy old forest we're heading towards. Any more shrewcake left?"

Jess absentmindedly pa.s.sed him one. "It's a pine wood. I don't like the look of it."

"Nor do I," Jabez Stump agreed. "Just a feelin' in my spikes, I s'pose, but it looks as if if s sittin' there a-waitin' for us."

Cheek laughed nervously. "Ha ha, old doom'n'gloom. Funny, I haven't got a feelin' in my spikes. Maybe 'cos I don't have any."

Basil slapped him heartily on the back. "Thaf s the spirit, Cheek m'boy. Chin in, chest out, good straight back and a stiff upper lip, wot. Look out, pine trees, here we come!" The woods looked deceptively dose. Even though they stepped out briskly, it was past noon when the party arrived at the beginning of the pine fringe.

Log-a-Log called for cooks to make a meal. "We'll eat and rest awhile here, because we won't be stopping once we get among those trees; we'll do a straight march through until we're dear of them. Is that all right with you, Matthias?"

"Good idea, Log-a-Log. A rest and some food will set us up nicely and we'll be fresh for the march."

A short while later they formed up into dose marching order. Weapons at the ready, they set off into the trees 230.

with Log-a-Log and Matthias up front, while Orlando and Basil guarded the rear. The first thing that struck them was the absence of daylight filtering through the thick foliage of the dose-growing pines, then the complete, awesome silence of the place.

"No use trying to look for tracks among these thick pine needles on the ground. And that strong scent from the trees blocks out everything." Log-a-Log's voice was muted and hollow.

"Waaah! Look, up there!"

Log-a-Log grabbed the wide-eyed shrew who had called out.

"What are you shouting about?"

"Skeletons, bones. Can't you see them hanging in the trees? It's a warning. We'd better go back!"

Orlando came rus.h.i.+ng forward. "Bones are bones, shrew. n.o.beast is turning back. They can't bite you, see."

The badger whirled his axe and crashed it with stunning force deep into a tree trunk. The reverberation of the mighty Mow caused bones to come clattering down to earth. Orlando tugged his warblade free.

"Dead bones never harmed anybeast. Now get marching."

Suddenly a series of ear-splitting screams pierced the stillness and the trees about them began shaking as if moved by a mighty wind. Several shrews fell, cut down by sharp wooden lances. Matthias dodged to one side as a lance buried itself in the ground by him.

"Help! Heeeeelp!" Cheek gave a strangled cry and began rising swiftly into the trees, hauled up on a thin braided noose looped expertly around his body.

Log-a-Log acted swiftly. He fitted a stone to his sling. Whirling it, he loosed it among the lower branches. A *mall thin creature painted all over with green and black vegetable dyes fell senseless to the earth. The trees were *five with hundreds of other creatures, chattering and *creaming, swinging nooses and jabbing downward 231.

with sharp wooden lances. Basil plucked up a fallen spear and hurled it back.