Martin the Warrior

As around me all the birds do fly,

and just before winter away go I.

Bobble O Bobble O Bobble O ohhhh

Tell me true, I'd like you to try!"

There was long applause and Brome had his back patted so heartily it began to ache.

"Excellent, top hole, young un!"

"You'm gorra foin voice, zurr Broom!"

"Oh, it was the best I've ever heard. You never missed a beat!"

"Well done. I wish we had a tenor who could sing half as good!"

Felldoh scratched his head. "What was it?"

Brome took a bite of his pie. "What was what?"

"The thing in the riddle song, green, brown, growing in the sky and then flying away before winter with the birds. What was it?"

Ballaw nodded towards Brome. "That's for the singer to tell old lad."

Brome winked at Felldoh. "What else could it be but a leaf?"

Rowanoak sat down between the two friends. "Now, tell me about yourselves. Where are you from and how did you come to this place?"

Outside, the wind whistled across the bleak Northeast Sea. The rain had stopped and a quarter moon showed between the scudding night cloud formations, throwing down a moving pattern of dark and silver across the shore. Snug in the crevice of the lowering cliffs the company crouched in their makeshift tent. Inside the lean to, Felldoh and Brome sat around the fire, eating and drinking as they related their story to the new found friends they had made, the Rambling Rosehip Players.

11

When the rain stopped, Martin felt his footpaws touching solid ground beneath the water. He stood upright with the sea lapping his neck, shaking Rose and Grumm, who had both fallen asleep.

"Land. We've made it. Help me push this oar ashore."

Hardly feeling the wood of the paddle, their bodies numbed from constant immersion in cold sea water, the three friends crawled out onto a sandy beach situated at the foot of high dark cliff formations.

They sat on the sand, shivering and hungry, their teeth chattering and paws trembling uncontrollably.

Through salt bleared eyes Grumm peered up at the cliffs. "Wunner wot be up thurr?"

Martin rose stiffly, massaging his limbs. "Some small cave where we can shelter for the night, I hope. Do you two want to rest here while I take a look?"

Rose and Grumm staggered on to their paws.

"I don't like it here. Grumm and I will go with you."

"Burr aye, 'tis creepy rounden yurr!"

The rocks were dark and slippery from the rain. Martin went in front, with Rose bringing up the rear. They kept Grumm in the middle as he was not a very good climber. Moles seldom are. Holding the paddle between them, they strove upwards, scrabbling and sometimes sliding back in the darkness. After what seemed an eternity of grappling with the wet cliff face, they rested on a narrow ledge. The three friends sat catching their second wind, listening to the tide far below as it surged and hissed along the night cloaked shore.

Martin peered upwards. "I think if we climb a little further there is a much broader ledge above us. There's bound to be some sort of cave or crevice where we can shelter."

"Carn't oi stay yurr," Grumm sighed wearily. "Moi pesky ole paws be gone a sleeping on oi."

Rose rubbed her molefriend's paws vigorously "Poor Grumm.

Champion diggers can't be champion climbers too. Not far to go now and you can have a good sleep. I'll get breakfast tomorrow so you can have a little extra lie in."

This offer perked Grumm up no end. "Burr. Thankee koindly, Miz Roser. You'm a guddbeast!"

Martin gave an involuntary shiver. "There's something about this place I don't like. Still, this is where we landed up, and beggars can't be choosers. Come on."

All three had their paws on the rim of the ledge after a short hard climb when the nets came hurling down and enveloped them. Tough, close woven meshes of kelp, weighted down all around with stones.

The friends were swept from the rock face and held dangling, their paws, tails and heads entangled in the snaring nets. Tiny dark shapes, masses of them, jibbered and pranced on the broad ledge as they hauled their catch swiftly upwards. It was over in a flash. Martin, Rose and Grumm were landed like fishes and swiftly clubbed into unconsciousness.

Swimming up through dark mists, Martin's head lanced with pain as he opened his eyes, in bright sunlight. A stick prodded him sharply in the back.

"Biggamouse wake up! Muggamug! Plennygood catchim!"

The young mouse opened his eyes fully and saw he was boxed inside a stout wooden cage. Tiny mouselike creatures with long wiggling snouts surrounded the cage. They danced up and down with excitement. One more venturesome than the rest darted forward and jabbed Martin's paw with a sharpened stick.

"Gotcha gotcha, Biggamouse! Higgig! Notso big ganow!"

The young mouse reacted speedily. With a swipe he snapped the stick, baring his teeth savagely as he gripped the wooden bars.

"Gerroutofit, you jibbering little idiots, and leave me alone!"

He shouted so loudly that the tiny creatures scattered like chaff before the wind, clapping paws over their ears.

Martin glared through the cage at them, growling fiercely, "Keep your distance, or I'll eat you all!"

He clashed his teeth several times, sending fresh pain waves through his throbbing head. Rubbing a sizeable bump on the back of his skull, Martin looked around and took stock of his position.

His cage was in the entrance to a large cave. On the opposite wall he could see two other wooden cages, in which the senseless forms of Rose and Grumm lay More of the tiny creatures passed, giving him a wide berth. They were carrying several fish which had been lashed to driftwood poles smelts, shannies and butterfish they had brought up from the shore.

Behind them, carrying nets and fishing gear, came a hedgehog. His footpaws had been bound to a heavy log that he was forced to tow in his wake. Martin shook the cage bars, calling to him.

"Hey! What is this place and who are all these little wretches?"

The hedgehog gave Martin a quick smile and a friendly wink. "I'm Pallum. Be still. I'll get back to you."

He was urged on by more little creatures following up the rear.

"Urryurry, pinpiggy. Mouthashut!"

As they passed into the recesses of the cave, Grumm stirred. "Burr oo! Moi pore ole 'ead, et be bumpen an' a bangen orfully."

The sound of the mole's voice seemed to waken Rose. Immediately she was up on her paws, and despite her aching head she battered and tugged at the bars of her cage.

"Let me out of here this instant, d'you hear. Let me out!"

Grumm held paws over his ears. "Hurr, doant ee make such a gurt noise, mizzy. You'm 'urtin' moi brains."

Martin was relieved his friend had suffered no permanent damage.

"Grumm's right, Rose. Best lie still. How do you feel?"

The mousemaid managed a wan smile. "Apart from being caged up with an ache in my head and a bump like a thrush's egg, plus a raging thirst and an empty stomach, I feel fine. How are you this morning?"

Martin grinned wryly. "Actually, I feel pretty silly. Wait until you see the beasts who did this to us."

As if on cue, several of the tiny creatures materialized out of the dimness at the rear of the cave.

Grumm nodded. "Pigmy shrews. Oi moight 'ave knowed!"

"Pigmy shrews?" Martin echoed the name ques tioningly.

The hedgehog came lumbering up to them, surrounded by pigmy shrews. They chattered ceaselessly in their odd dialect, some of them sitting impudently on the hedgehog's towing log, their ride adding to the burden he dragged along. It did not seem to bother him unduly.

He smiled in a foolish, disarming way.

"Hello there. It's me, Pallum. Listen, never look angry in front of pigmy shrews. Smile all the time. It confuses them."

Martin pasted a large grin on his face as he introduced himself and his friends. The shrews were never still, hopping, jumping, dancing and gabbling on in an unintelligible manner. The one who had jabbed Martin with a stick began to do it once more. The young mouse dodged this way and that to avoid the sharp wood, grinning furiously as he spoke from between clenched teeth.

"Pallum, let me tell you something, friend. In a moment I'm going to grab that stick and stuff it up that little wretch's long squiggly excuse for a nose!"

Pallum shook his head smilingly. "It'd be the worst day's work you ever did, Martin. These are babies squidjees is their proper title. The tiny scum poking you with the stick is the worst brat of all. That's Dinjer, one and only son and heir to Amballa, Queen of the pigmy shrews. She'd have you killed for sure if you laid paw on her little darling. Wait a moment, I think I can stop him."

Turning to the offender, Pallum addressed him in pigmy shrew language. "Higgig, Dinjer, goodagood, you pokeymore biggamouse!"

Dinjer stopped instantly and began trying vainly to belabor Pallum's spiky hide with the stick.

"Pinpiggy shuttamouth! Notell Dinjer whattadoo!"

Pallum chuckled as the infant flailed unsuccessfully at his spikes.

"Contrary little snips. Best way to stop 'em is to encourage them.

They'll always do the opposite to what you want, specially this one."

Rose wiped a paw across her parched lips. "Pallum, is there any chance of us getting some food and water?"

A tiny drum sounded from within the cave. Pallum held up a paw.

"That'll be the Queen, Amballa. When you speak to her, bow your head and call her Ballamum. Be very respectful. She's vindictive and all powerful round here. Don't mention the word higgig that means you are laughing, and she might think you were laughing at her.

Please do as I say and leave the rest to me."

Amballa was a plump little figure. She wore golden pantaloons and a cloak of light blue. On her head was a coronet studded with bright shell pieces and small polished beach pebbles. A seagull feather stuck up at the back of it. Had she not been such an important personage the three friends would have burst out laughing at the comical sight she made.

Drawing herself up to the peak of her minuscule height, she pointed a tiny sword at Martin.

"Biggarnouse, you! What namesay?"

"O Ballamum, I am Martin." The young mouse bowed his head, speaking respectfully. "That other mouse is called Rose and the mole is Grumm. We mean no harm to you or your tribe of pigmy shrews."

Amballa leaped forward in a rage, jabbing through the bars with her sword so that Martin was forced to jump backwards.

"Biggarnouse biggamouth! What shrew pigmy? No shrew pigmy here 'bout!"

Pallum towed his log forward, interceding on Martin's behalf.

"Mightygreat Ballamum, sillymouse knownot tribename Highbeast, still sleepymuddle from banga bang on headplace."

Martin caught on to Pallum's message and rubbed his head, muttering. "Phwaw! Sleepymuddle, sleepy muddle!"

Amballa squinted suspiciously for a moment before she appeared satisfied, then she broke into laughter.

"Higgig higgigig! Highbeast givvayou plenty banga bang, yougo sleepasleep suddenquick. Higgig higgigig!"

Martin nodded ruefully. "Highbeast mighty warriors, bangabang plentyhurt."

Pallum winked approvingly at Martin before tackling Amballa on behalf of her captives.

"O Ballamum, nogive these sillybeasts mouthfood or gluggadrink.

Theynot get obblewood an' caretake Squid jees. Ballamum killemdead!"

The Queen made as if to kick Pallum, but did not because of his spikes. She drew herself up and proclaimed regally, "Ballamum saythis! Nofeed lazymouths, workaneat. Bring obblewoods. Sillybeasts makegood Squidjeenurses. Higgig higgigig!"

The pigmy shrew tribe laughed with her as they jigged and cavorted about the cave.

Pallum looked astonished at the Queen. "Great Ballamum, wisest Highbeast, howyou thinkathis?"

Amballa curled her lip disdainfully.

"Thatcos menot pinpiggy me Ballamum ofall High beast!"

Later that afternoon the three friends sat eating nutstud ded shrewbread and drinking dandelion cordial. Like Pallum, their footpaws had been skilfully bound to hefty logs which they had to drag round as they walked. Martin kicked at his.

"Obblewood, a wooden hobble, not only that but we've got to play nursemaid to those tiny Squidjee hooligans. I think I would have preferred death!"

Rose giggled. "Oh come on, Martin. You love them really, especially little Dinjer."

At the mention of the villainous infant, Martin clenched his paws.

"Oh yes, I love him so much I could hug him, right around his foul little neck, tighter and tighter!"

Grumm finished his meal hurriedly. "Look owt, yurr cooms 'ee little vurmin an' 'is crew."

Headed by Dinjer, a crowd of Squidjees descended on the captives.

They spilled the cordial and thrust aside the shrewbread.

Dinjer prodded Martin with his stick impatiently. "Upnow, biggamouse. Wego pullaride on obblewoods!" Martin and Grumm spent the remainder of the afternoon towing gangs of Squidjees around. The tiny beasts sat on the wooden hobbles, singing and laughing uproariously as they urged their transports on to greater speeds.

Rose had been detailed with Pallum into cleaning up the little ones'

sleeping area and making beds.

Martin and his friends picked up much of the pigmy shrews'

language during the course of the day. It was relatively simple when they realized that the Highbeast tribe spoke by running words together in pairs, sometimes in threes. Toward evening, Martin and Grumm supervised Squidjee suppertime. The mole wiped wild oat porridge from between his ears where a bowl had been upturned.

"Burr, they'm Squinjers serpintly be woild liddle vil lyuns. Iffen oi

'ad moi ladle to paw, why oi'd tan a few tails, oi tell you'm!"

The Squidjees, who could not understand a single word of mole talk, chuckled madly as they squirted strawberry cordial from their mouths at the mole.

Martin sighed, the fixed smile on his face beginning to hurt.

"They've got the table manners of a wolfpack. Great seasons! Look at the way they waste food and

mess it about."

Pallum and Rose appeared, smiling dutifully. "Come come, sleepytime, Squidjeebabes. Sleepytime!"

This was the signal for a mass escape. The infant pigmy shrews fled, squealing, to hide, wanting the captives to chase them.

"Higgigig, catchus, chaseymouse!"

Pallum knew all the hiding places from long experience. As they gathered the little ones up for bed, Martin noticed Amballa and several of the other pigmy shrews watching them carefully lest they became roughpawed or spoke harshly to the babes. Squidjees were almost revered in the Highbeast tribe.

The tiny beasts ran wild over the newly made beds, flinging the covers about and trampling pillows.

"What do we have to do to make these rogues sleep, Pallum?"

Martin groaned.

"Singasong."

Instantly the Squidjees flung themselves flat on their beds, straightening the covers about them and plumping pillows as they called out. "Singasong, wewanna singa song!" Pallum immediately began singing.

"Go to sleep, you filthy bunch.

I'd love to lay you all out with a punch.

How'd you win a mother's heart

With a squiggly trunk like an eel's back part?

Is that awful smell the reason?

You haven't been washed all season.

So go to sleep in your scruffy beds.

May nightmares enter your beastly heads,

And when sunlight heralds the new daybreak

May you wake with tummy ache."

Strangely, the Squidjees were half asleep. Smiling and yawning they mumbled. "Verynice, verynice. Singa more."

Stifling a chuckle, Grumm took over with his deep soothing bass.

"You'm a dreadful 'orrible crew

An' oi wuddent give to you

Supper nor dinner, brekfis' nor tea,

Oi'd spank the dayloights out of 'ee.

An' oi'd make 'ee wash ten toimes each day.

Til you'm bad manners wurr scrubbed away."

Tiny snores announced that the Squidjees were all asleep.

Rose mopped her brow with relief. "Whew! Thank the seasons the little monsters are finished for the day. Small wonder their mothers don't look after them."

Pallum pointed to some spare mattresses in the corner. "All right, you can stop smiling now and get some rest. Lie there and relax. I'll go and get some supper for us.

I think I saw a big mixed fruit pudding with cream and some new cider."

Grumm flopped down thankfully, swiftly followed by Martin and Rose. Their wooden hobbles clacked together noisily and Rose winced as she held up a paw.

"Sshh! Not so much noise. You might waken the monsters."

"Burr, oi'd throw moiself offen 'ee clifftop iffen they waked."

"From slavery to slavery in one easy pawstep, where will it end?"

Martin sighed loud and long.

Rose shook his paw comfortingly. "In Noonvale someday. We won't be here all our lives with a warrior like you about, Martin. Being a nursemaid is not in your stars. I wonder what became of Brome and Felldoh. They'll have drifted in to land, no doubt. That Felldoh is a good tough squirrel. I know he'll look after my brother. I hope they're safe and well."

Martin could hardly keep his eyes open as he watched Pallum approach bearing a heavily laden tray.

"Wherever Felldoh and Brome landed up, they couldn't possibly be worse off than us. Nursemaids to those tiny rogues. Huh!"

12

An alliance had been made between Badrang the Tyrant and Cap'n Tramun Clogg. Still not trusting each other, the two villainous stoats affixed their signatures to a sprawling birch bark parchment, Badrang writing his name in a curly flourishing script, whilst Clogg laboriously scrawled an X and a crude sketch of a wooden clog, his mark. It was witnessed by Gurrad the rat for Marshank and Boggs the ferret for the corsairs. Tramun repeated the terms as he and the Tyrant took a joint beaker of best parsley wine.

"Harr, so, as I sees it you're goin' to call off yer troops an' lend me some slaves to refurbish an' refloat my ship. Meself on the other paw, won't attack, 'arass or demand slaves from you. I'm to unnerstand that the slaves you lend me is still yores an' 'ave to be returned. Right?"

Badrang sipped his wine and nodded, tapping the parchment. "Aye, agreed, and don't forget all this. At such times as you have a seaworthy craft to sail off in, I keep half of your crew as hostages.

When, or if, you return having taken more slaves, then they get divided equally between us and you get your hostages returned to give you a full crew."

Clogg stroked his plaited whiskers, narrowing one eye. "Fairly said, partner, fairly said. An' I can feed me crew from yer supplies an' billet them 'ere in yer fancy fort, though I'm never to tell other corsairs or searats as I may come across on the 'igh seas the location of this 'ere place."

Badrang nodded, refilling Clogg's beaker. "Right! But don't forget, Tramun, after the first cargo of slaves is split between us you guarantee to sell any further slaves from other voyages only to me. I'll give you the best of weapons, trade goods and supplies."

Clogg slopped wine as he threw back his head and drained the beaker, then draped a paw around Badrang's shoulders. "Haharr, just like in the good ole days, eh, matey!"

The Tyrant reciprocated by throwing his paw about Clogg's neck.

"Aye, as y' say, just like in the good ole days, Tramun. But this time there'll be no underpaw dealings, traitors nor spybeasts."

"Spybeasts? I ain't never used spybeasts, matey." The pirate stoat adopted a look of injured innocence.

"There, there." Badrang patted Clogg's neck affectionately. "I know you haven't. There's nothing worse than a spybeast. Why, if I thought there was one in my fortress I'd tie him to the gates and let my archers use him for target practice. Look, just like that fox over yonder."

He turned Clogg's neck with his paw so that the corsair was looking at the inside of Marshank's main gates. The carcass of Skalrag hung there, stuck with so many arrows it was like a pincushion.

Even though he was seething inwardly, Clogg grinned from ear to ear. "Foxes was allus traitors. I never liked that one."

Badrang tightened his grip on Clogg's neck momentarily then released him. The Tyrant matched the corsair grin for grin.

"Neither did I, matey, neither did I!"

Early morning sun bathed the shore beyond the headland, promising a high hot day. Rowanoak harnessed herself between the shafts of the Rosehips' gaily painted cart and they moved further along the shoreline, away from the close proximity of Marshank. Felldoh and Brome enjoyed the company of the Rambling Rosehip creatures greatly; they had been accepted immediately as friends and possible members.

By midmorning they had set up their camp on the clifftops, where they had an excellent view of the area without revealing their presence. The hare Ballaw De Quincewold and Rowanoak were in close conference while the rest unpacked and prepared lunch. Brome helped Gauchee and Kastern to prepare a leek and bean soup, sniggering with the two mice as they watched the pretty squirrel Celandine trying to flirt shamelessly with a much embarrassed Felldoh as he unloaded the cart, blushing to his tailtip at her simpering compliments.

"Oh Mister Felldoh, you're so strong! You lifted that trunk as if it were no more than a feather. I'll bet you must be the most powerful squirrel in the whole country!"

Felldoh was completely lost for words. He turned away from the cart and started breaking some driftwood up for the fire.

Celandine dabbed at her brow with a dainty lace square. "Oh my, oh my. I'd be all season just trying to break one teensy piece of that wood with an axe, and look at you, sir, snapping it in those great paws of yours like it was dead grass!"

Trefoil the other squirrelmaid unceremoniously bundled a pile of tunics at Celandine. "Here, missy, get your paws wet washing those through and leave that poor fellow alone before he turns into a beetroot!"

The temptress flounced off in a huff, laden with dirty washing.

Trefoil began snapping wood alongside Felldoh.

"Take no notice of her, friend. I've seen her fluttering her eyelashes at dragonflies."

Buckler the mole was erecting the awning as a sunshade. "Burr aye, she'm a gurt flutterer, that un," he chuckled. "Oi losed moi 'eart to 'er long seasons agone. Hurr, but she'm a foin arctress too!"

The food was good and simple, hot soup followed by wheatflour pancakes spread with wild honey. The company lounged beneath the awning, eating and drinking cool mint and buttercup cordial from an old stone jar.

Rowanoak shook her great head.

"What in the name of trees and turnips made us ramble this far up the land, I'll never know. We had good times in the south, friendly creatures to entertain, nice places to stop awhile ..."

Ballaw the hare made a pancake disappear with alarming speed.

"True, true, but what's a chap got up here in this bally neck o' the woods? Fortresses, tyrants an' corsairs. Bit thick, isn't it, wot? About the only decent thing was meeting you two jolly lads."

The rest of the company murmured agreement.

Rowanoak stared patiently at the hare. Ballaw carried on guzzling cordial, unaware that he had interrupted her flow. "If you're quite finished, Mister De Quince wold?" she continued.

Ballaw dispatched another pancake, daintily licking honey from his paws. "Not finished dealin' with these pancakes, Rowan me old oak, but don't let me stop you talkin'. You eat less when y' talk. Hawhaw!"

The badger eyed him frostily before continuing. "Thank you! Now what I have to say concerns our new friends Felldoh and Brome. Here is what I propose. We're up here anyway, for better or worse, so we may as well do something useful. It goes without saying that we will keep our eyes peeled for any sign of their companions, Brome's sister, Martin and the mole Grumm. But meanwhile, as Felldoh has told us, his father Barkjon is a slave in that dreadful fortress. It makes my blood boil when I think of a creature being enslaved, robbed of freedom, beaten, starved and

to labor for some jumped up villain. What do you think?"

There was an instant chorus of agreement with Rowanoak.

"Shame, poor old Barkjon!"

"It's a flarnin' liberty, wot?"

"Yurr, nobeaster should be slave to anuther!"

"Oh, I can't imagine it, we've always been free!"

"It's disgraceful. That horrid stoat!"

Rowanoak let them carry on working up their indignation before carrying on with her speech. When they had done she continued.

"When Ballaw and I formed the Rambling Rosehip Players we took on only talented creatures we knew we could rely on. I personally have never been disappointed in any of you, that is why today we are all gather "

"Oh, stop takin' a bally seavoyage to get round a cockleshell, old gel. We all want to rescue Felldoh's old pater, don't we?"

"Aye!" The response was loud and wholehearted.

"Good show. Then let's stop jawbangin' an' get to it, wot?"

Rowanoak passed Ballaw the pancakes and honey. She was smiling.

"Thank you, Bal, you old rascal. Now we need a strategy, and you know the best way that a travelling company can scout the land?"

Buckler held up a sticky digging claw. "Yurss, marm, Us'ns goo thurr an put on 'ee show!"

"What?" Felldoh spluttered on his drink. "Now just hold fast a moment friends. It's very kind of you to offer to rescue my dear old dad. But we've an appointment with Martin in Noonvale. Our plan is to raise an army and free all the slaves. And anyway you'd last as long as a leaf on a bonfire at Marshank."

Kastern the mousemaid chuckled. "Listen, squirrel, if you'd been half the places we've been and done a quarter of the things we've done, you'd know better."

"Chaha! I'd say y' would, old lad. Gauchee, remember we put on the courtin' of the frog an' the caterpillar for all those fierce toads in the south swamps?"

"Do I ever!" The mousemaid nibbled her carrot, shaking with mirth. "With you playing the villainous toad uncle. I thought those toads were so enraged they were going to toss us in the swamp!"

Celandine giggled. "And they would have, too. Good job they let Celandine butterfly tie them all up with the magic rope that would make them all handsome. Heeheeheehee!"

The whole company fell about laughing as Kastern pointed at Rowanoak. "That was when Badger Bountiful hoisted them all up into a tree and told them they too would turn into beautiful butterflies and fly away. Ha hahahahaha!"

"Hoohoohoo! You should've seen their bally faces when we ate all their feast and went off, leavin' 'em all hanging' from a tree waitin' to turn into butterflies. Hawhawhaw!"

When the laughter had subsided, Rowanoak winked at Felldoh and Brome, "No need to worry about us. We know what we're doing."

Felldoh grasped the badger's paw. "I don't know how to thank you."

Trefoil was rummaging in the cart. "Oh, don't thank us. We won't be doing it all on our own you two will be taking part in the show."

Brome leapt up in alarm. "But they'd recognize us right off!"

Kastern placed a huge frog mask over the young mouse's head.

"There, your own mama wouldn't recognize you now."

Rowanoak clapped her hefty paws together. "Righto, clear the food away We've got a show to rehearse. Felldoh, you look strong enough to be a good catcher ..."

Celandine fluttered her eyelashes. "Ooh, he could catch me anytime of the season!"

Rowanoak gave her a glare then ignored her. "Brome, sorry you can't sing on this job. Your voice is too recognizable. However, you would make rather a good frog maiden."

"Me, a frog maiden?"

"Why certainly, old lad. An' I'll be your wicked uncle toad. Hoho, me proud beauty, you shall never marry that caterpillar!"

Felldoh shook his head in bewilderment as Buckler stuck a large red ball on the tip of his nose. "It sounds just crazy enough to work!"

13

It was still early morning and already Martin was feeling tired. He and his friends had been roused several times that night by the familiar Squidjee cry, gluggadrink. It seemed that every baby pigmy shrew woke at least twice nightly wanting a drink.

Rose hauled her log away from the noisy breakfast table. She was spattered with food and drink.

"Good morning, Martin. You'll never guess what's planned for the morning after breakfast is through."

Martin shook his head. "Don't tell me, I don't want to know."

Rose told him anyway, stifling a smile as she did. "We're taking all the Squidjees down to the beach for a paddle in the rock pools.

Evidently the whole tribe goes down there every day to check on their fishing nets. If it's good weather like today, the little fiends are brought along to amuse themselves."

"Oh how nice. It will be fun!" Martin put on his fixed smile.

Grumm and Pallum had their paws full wiping off sticky baby whiskers. "Cumm yurr, you'm 'orrible liddle toad. Thoi whisker'n be full o' oatmeal."

The Squidjees dodged about chanting ceaselessly. "Wannago shoreshore! Wannago shoreshore!"

Descent to the shore from the high cliffs was not as difficult as it first looked. There was a hidden stairway, cunningly carved into the rock by the pigmy shrews. Martin and his companions had to make the trip several times. Watched by Amballa and her ever vigilant shrews, the four friends had to carry each Squidjee piggyback fashion down to the sand. When all the shrews were attending their nets, the Queen turned to Pallum.

"Squidjees playnow, youwatch plennygood!"

She shook her sword at them in warning before seating herself comfortably where she could keep an eye on everything.

The Queen's infant son Dinjer was trouble on wheels. The other Squidjees were relatively calm and happy, burying Grumm up to his neck in the sand. Martin, Rose and Pallum were building a sandcastle for some others. Pallum pointed to Grumm.

"That was what I always hated, when they decided to bury me.

Grumm seems to be enjoying it."

The mole pulled loose a digging paw and waved to them. "Burr aye,

'tis noice 'n' cool on an 'ot morn loik this'n."

"Stillagrumm, staystill!"

Several Squidjees started draping wet seaweed on the mole's head.

Martin looked about for Dinjer. Rose spotted him.

"There he is, the little blaggard. Look, climbing!"

Dinjer had strayed from the rest and taken a notion to scale the cliff face. The section he chose was slippery and steep, with sharp crags sticking out above it. Martin's patience snapped. He leaped up, pointing at the miscreant.

"Get down from there, you stupid little beast, or you'll fall!"

The Queen heard him. Angrily she threw a rock, catching Martin sharply on his unprotected back.

"Biggamouse biggamouth! Notalk Ballamum son like that, badtalk.

Ballamum killslay biggamouse!"

Martin was about to make some reply when there was a loud screech. "Yeeeaaakkk!"

A great gannet had swooped down and snatched Dinjer from the rocks. The infant pigmy shrew was carried high into the air, held by his tail and the hem of his loose robe in the lethal amber beak of the predator. He wriggled and squealed like a midget piglet. Immediately all activity on the shore ceased as Amballa's wails rent the air.

"Waaah waaah! Dinjergone himdead likefather, likefather!"

"I remember that when I was younger," Pallum whispered to Rose.

"Dinjer's father was taken by a big gannet like that one. Poor little mite, he's as good as dead now."

Amballa had slid down from her seat on the rocks. She covered her eyes and wept inconsolably. "Nomore Dinjerbabe! Himgone, deadnow!"

Martin grabbed her by the paws, pulling her upright. "Notdead, Ballamum, Dinjer notdead. Biggamouse savehim!"

Seizing the Queen's sword, which was no more than a dagger in his paw, Martin bowled the nearest two pigmy shrews over and snatched their fishing net. Dashing off along the shore after the gannet, he called back to his friends. "Get more nets and follow me. Hurry!"

The gannet soared upwards, wheeled, and dropped down on to a high ledge in an isolated part of the cliffs. Dinjer was stunned by the landing. The infant lay limp between the big bird's well clawed and webbed feet. There was a large untidy nest on the ledge, with two scrawny half feathered gannet chicks in it. On seeing their mother they set up a cackle.

As he ran, Martin watched the bird descend and alight on the high ledge. Without pausing, he ran to the cliff face directly below it.

Pausing only to grip the sword blade in his teeth, he hurled the fishing net upwards. The meshes caught on the rocks. Giving a quick tug to check its firmness, Martin began climbing, pulling himself up paw over paw on the tough kelp net. When he reached where the net had caught, he disentangled it, whirling it around his head he hurled it aloft, catching another rocky crag. Again he began hauling himself up over the meshes.

Below on the beach, the whole of the Highbeast pigmy shrew tribe had gathered. They watched as Martin continued his ascent. Rose began spreading the other nets on the sand, lashing four of them together. The pigmy shrews were getting in her way, ignoring her as they trampled the nets and gazed up. Rose, Pallum and Grumm bulled into them, pushing them backwards.

"Get out of the way. Can't you see we're trying to help him?"

One of the Highbeasts kicked out at Rose. "Cheeka mouse! Notalka me likethat."

Amballa bit him savagely on the neck and knocked him down.

"Gettaway quicknow like mousesay, allayou!"

A piercing cry came from Dinjer as he woke and saw his predicament. "Eeeee! Helpme helpmeeeeee!"

Martin heard the cry and redoubled his efforts, throwing the net upwards and scrambling over it. He chanced a quick look up only about three more lengths to go.

Dinjer's tear stained face appeared over the rim of the ledge.

"Eeeeeee helpadinjer eeeeeee!"

He was dragged back by the formidable beak of the gannet. The huge bird tossed him against the side of the nest. Dinjer curled up tight as the two hungry chicks tried to crane their floppy necks over the edge of the nest to get at him.

Below on the shore, Amballa hid her face in horror of what might happen to her little son. Rose put a comforting paw around the Queen's shoulders.

"Nocry, Ballamum. Biggamouse Martin is mighty warrior. He will get your Dinjer back, yousee, yousee!"

Amballa seemed to understand Rose. She clung to the mousemaid as she anxiously watched the high ledge.

Breathing raggedly with exertion, Martin pulled himself up on to the ledge, hauling the net up after him.

Dinjer saw him and jumped up, yelling. "Biggamouse Martinmouse, savemeeeee!"

The gannet turned its bright dangerous eyes on Martin as he took the sword from his mouth.

"Dinjer, nomake nonoise, bestill, still!"

The gannet took a stalking stride towards Martin, lowering its lethal yellow beak. The young mouse swung with the little sword. It clacked harmlessly off the great bird's beak, but caused the gannet to stop where it was. Now Martin shook the net out and swished it at the bird's feet. It took a step back. Behind him he could hear Dinjer sobbing with terror. Working his way across the ledge, jabbing with the sword and sweeping with the net, Martin gradually got himself into a position where he was between the gannet and its nest.

Sensing danger to its chicks, the gannet began spreading its wings, lowering its neck and opening its beak wide as it hissed at the intruder. Martin knew there was not much time, it was getting ready to attack. He would have to act quickly. Throwing back his head, he shouted aloud into the gannet's face, hoping that he could be heard below on the beach.

"Stretch the nets! Hold them up, lots of you. Be ready!"

Rose heard him. She had thought of giving her eagle call, but if Martin or Dinjer were in the nest they would be crushed under the gannet, which would naturally sit on its nest to defend the chicks against anything. Grasping a corner of the net, Rose held it high, yelling aloud, "Holdup net. Stretch it tight. Now!"

The Highbeast tribe stood uncertainly for a moment, until a harsh order from Amballa their Queen sent them scurrying to the edges of the net, with Rose, Pallum, Grumm and Amballa at each corner.

The Queen snapped out directions. "Holda netup, upup! Stretcher tightnow!"

The net was ready, up and tightly stretched.

Martin reached back with his footpaw, keeping a wary eye on the gannet as he kicked Dinjer lightly.

"Movenow, Dinjer. Get over to the edge ..."

Dinjer began crawling on all fours. The gannet, sensing it was being robbed of its prey, tried to pass Martin to get at Dinjer. Martin jabbed with the sword. This time he nipped the bird in its open mouth. It retaliated with lightning swiftness, pecking him sharply in the side.

Martin drew his breath in short at the pain. He clamped his paw over the spot, feeling warm damp blood.

Dinjer was now at the edge of the cliff, peering over at the dizzy drop down to the shore.

"Jump, Dinjer, jump!" Martin hissed at him.

"Eeee nojump nojump, Dinjer 'fraid!"

There was nothing else for it. Martin turned swiftly and gave the baby pigmy shrew a hefty kick on the bottom that sent him flying outwards over the edge.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeehhhkkkk!"

Whump!

Dinjer bounced up and down in the center of the net. Saved!

The gannet gave a shrill squawk and attacked Martin. Leaping to one side, he whirled the net and threw it straight over the bird's head.

The kelp fishing net enveloped the gannet's head and one wing, and draped on the ground, trapping one of its webbed feet. Martin fell to one side, dragging at the net. The bird's head came awkwardly askew and it tried to pull its leg free. Martin kicked out at its other leg, sending the gannet crashing on its side, loosely trapped in the net.

The young mouse leapt up, his chest heaving. The net would not hold the big sea bird for long and he did not wish to kill it. The two chicks were squawking raucously in the nest. Turning to the fallen mother bird, Martin loosed off the net. Then he ran for the edge shouting aloud, "One for the net coming dooooooooown!"

He leaped into the blue summer morning, up and out. Momentarily he was robbed of breath as the wind whistled past his ears.

Spread eagled, with all limbs flailing, he dropped like a stone, plummeting down into the net.

Whumff!

A mighty cheer rose up from everybeast on the shore.

Rose, Pallum and Grumm hurried to help Martin from the net. The mousemaid tore a strip from her smock.

"You're hurt. Let me see. Oh, thank goodness, it's not serious!"

Martin let her bandage his side. Amballa came over, smiling through her tears. Martin offered her sword back but she refused.

"Martinmouse warriormouse, greatbrave, savemy Dinjerbabe.

Ballamum saythis. Warrawant? Anything foryou!"

Pallum nudged Martin as he whispered, "She's just offered you anything you want for saving Dinjer. I've never heard the Queen do a thing like that before."

A silence fell over the assembled Highbeasts. Martin lifted the sword and with two swift strokes freed Rose of her hobbling log.

Striding purposefully over to Pallum and Grumm, he slashed through the kelps that bound them to the logs. Pallum could not remember being without the great log impeding his footpaws. He held the broken kelp ends and wept silently.

Martin faced the Queen of the pigmy shrews eye to eye. "We want free!"

The silence on the shore intensified as Amballa drew herself up regally, her fierce little eyes burning into Martin's. "Ballamum saythis.

Yougo allfree!"

The ranks of the Highbeast tribe parted to let the four friends pass through. They walked in silence, holding the slashed kelp ends lest they tripped.

Suddenly Dinjer ran out in front of Martin, swinging a stick. He struck the young mouse, hard as he could. Martin winced as he took the blow full across the face. Dinjer was in a foul temper, striking and screaming as his tantrum grew.

"Biggamouse kickamee. Killslay biggamouse. He kick amee Dinjer!"

Instantly Amballa was between the two. She grabbed Dinjer, snapped the stick and threw it away, then seizing her son by his tail she began spanking him hard with her free paw.

"Martinmouse rightsay you stupid ... little ... beast!"

The loud cheers of the pigmy shrews, coupled with Dinjer's anguished wails, cut through the sunlit morning as the four friends strolled free along the beach, away from pigmy shrews and captivity.

Grumm smiled fondly. "Burr, tha' sound be loik music to moi ears!"

14

While Cap'n Tramun Clogg took a party around the headland to see what he could salvage of his ship, Bad rang attended to other matters.

Druwp the bankvole stood before the Tyrant in his longhouse.

Badrang had his aides, Gurrad and Hisk, bring food for the spy. Roast sea bird, baked fish, new bread and a flagon of damson wine were placed in front of Druwp, but the treacherous creature had suddenly lost his appetite. He eyed the long thin whipping rods held by Gurrad and Hisk, completely overawed in the presence of the mighty Badrang.

The bankvole had told them all he knew, but Badrang was not satisfied. Danger radiated from the stoat's eyes. He was in an unpredictable mood.

"Let me get this straight, Druwp. You knew that the prisoners were going to escape from the prison pit, but you don't know how they did it. You know the ringleaders of the slave resistance and you know they have buried weapons, but you don't know what their plans are. Don't play me for a fool, bankvole. Give me some good hard information that I can act upon."

Druwp swallowed hard, his mouth dry as a bone. "I know exactly where the weapons are buried, Sire."

Badrang smiled at Hisk and Gurrad. Coming swiftly out of his chair, he patted Druwp's back, feeling the spy flinch beneath his touch.

"Good, good. That's what I want to hear. Tell me exactly where they are."

"Lord, they are inside the slave compound, buried in the earth beneath the sleeping pallet of an otter called Tullgrew. I watched her digging the hole. She did not know I saw her."

Badrang turned to his aides. "Come on, let's go and take a look. You have done well, Druwp. From now on you will be my eyes and ears in the ranks of the slaves. Sit down, eat, drink and be easy."

When Badrang and his cronies had left the longhouse Druwp felt his confidence returning, his appetite too. Seating himself at the table, he poured a large beaker of wine and tore off a leg from the roast sea bird. The bread smelled good and fresh as he stuffed it hungrily into his mouth. Quaffing damson wine and setting his teeth into the hot meat, Druwp allowed himself a rare smile. Let the others be helpful and noble to each other. He was in the business of self preservation.

The slaves had lain idle since the hostilities with Clogg, but they knew it would not last. Badrang would soon have them toiling under the lash. The afternoon was warm and lazy with hardly a breeze. They made the most of it, lying about in the sun.

A mouse called Yarrow wandered over to the palisade and peered through a gap. "Barkjon! Badrang is comin' this way with Gurrad an'

Hisk."

The old squirrel was instantly at his side. "Yes, I see them. I wonder what they want?"

Badrang stood in the center of the compound, a knowing smile hovering round his lips. The slaves shuffled nervously as Hisk and Gurrad wandered amongst them, flicking the long thin rods. The Tyrant's voice was soft, almost friendly, as he addressed his captives.

"Well, you've had a nice easy few days, but it'll be back to work in the morning. Stand by your beds while we take a head count."

They hurried to obey, giving Hisk and Gurrad's rods a wide berth.

An eerie silence settled over the whole place as the two Captains walked around the nervous creatures standing by their pitiful sacks of straw which served as beds. Gurrad took one side, Hisk the other, tapping their canes against each animal's chest as they counted.

Hillgorse the old hedgehog stood in front of a very young mouse called Hoopoe. As Gurrad's cane snaked out to touch the youngster, Hillgorse batted it aside with his paw. He spoke out, his voice bold and enquiring. "What's all this about? What do you want of us?"

"Hillgorse, is that your name?" The Tyrant's voice was still deceptively friendly. "That's what they call me."

"Hmm, I thought so. Let me see now, which one of you is Barkjon?"

Felldoh's father took a pace forward. "I am Barkjon."

Badrang's eyes roved this way and that. "Keyla, is there a young otter named Keyla?" "Aye, that's me!" Keyla held up a paw. Badrang stared at the otter a moment. "Good, good. You can tell me which one is Tullgrew. Another otter, like yourself."

Keyla exchanged glances with Barkjon and Hillgorse before replying. "Tullgrew? There's no Tullgrew here." Badrang's voice hardened. "Lie to me and you'll die, all three of you. Who is Tullgrew?

"

The otter could not see her friends endangered. She held up her paw. "My name is Tullgrew."

Badrang strode across to her and kicked the sack of bedding grass.

"Move that and start digging."

Slowly Tullgrew did as she was bid. The noon sun beat down on the compound. A small cloud of dust arose where the otter toiled away, digging the sandy clayish ground with both paws. Barkjon looked across to Hillgorse. Their eyes were sad with resignation.

Tullgrew dug until she was standing in a pit half her own height.

Sweat ran down into her eyes, hiding t1 .e look of puzzlement in them.

Badrang sensed something was amiss. "Gurrad, Hisk! Throw that otter out of the hole and take over!"

The two Captains scrambled to obey. Putting their rods aside, they heaved Tullgrew out of the excavation and began digging fast and hard under the Tyrant's hot angry eyes. All their questing paws found was earth and more earth.

They were almost at head height when Badrang snapped at them,

"Get out of it, fools. Can't you see there's nothing there?"

As they pulled themselves out, Gurrad, the shorter of the two, slipped and fell back into the hole. There was an audible snigger among the slaves. Badrang whirled round to face them. "We'll see how long you laugh doing double workloads tomorrow!"

Hisk helped the rat out and they padded warily behind the Tyrant as he swept out of the compound, his cloak billowing darkly against the noonday brightness. Tullgrew spread her dusty paws wide. "What happened to the weapons? They weren't there."

"By the seasons! I wonder where they went." Keyla's face was the picture of innocence.

Barkjon waggled a paw under the otter's nose. "You know, you young rascal!"

Keyla smiled mischievously. "Aye, I know, but Druwp doesn't. He watched Tullgrew bury them, and I watched him. When he fell asleep, I gently pulled Tullgrew and her bedding to one side. She was asleep too, weary after all that digging. So I just dug the weapons up and found a new hiding place for them."

Tullgrew shook her head in amazement. "But where did you put them, Keyla?"

"Hah! Right in the center of the compound, there, where Badrang was standing when he first came in. Hee hee hee!"

Druwp was sitting among the remnants of his feast sipping the last of the wine when the longhouse door opened with a bang. Badrang entered, flanked by Gurrad and Hisk. Wine spilled as the flagon went flying against the wall. Druwp's chair was pulled from under him, and in a trice he was flat on his back with the Tyrant's footclaws against his quivering throat.

"You made a fool of me, Druwp." The stoat's voice grated with a rage he could hardly contain, "I don't like being made to look a fool. I should kill you, but I won't. You will continue spying for me. However, first you must learn a hard lesson!"

A sob rose in Druwp's throat as Badrang called to his Captains,

"Bring me those rods, then guard the door so he can't run!"

The hot still summer evening was bringing the day to a close.

Tramun Clogg's crew sat out on the shore grouped around cooking fires. The Cap'n would not allow them to be billeted in Badrang's

"fancy fort", where they could be surrounded by the Tyrant's horde while sleeping better the open shore close to the tideline.

Clogg had inspected the hulk of his ship at low water. There was a chance the hull could be towed ashore and saved to rebuild upon. The corsair's clothing steamed as it dried on him by the fire. He gnawed on a toasted mackerel and swigged noisily at a jug of old seaweed ale.

He did not notice the strangely clad hare who was sitting beside him in the twilight until the creature spoke.

"I say, old lad, any chance of a nip at that seaweed ale? I'm very partial to a drop of the old beach water."

The unflappable Clogg hugged his jug close as he eyed the odd beast indignantly. "Git yer own ale, rabbit. 'Ere, you ain't one o' my crew?"

The hare nudged him cheekily and winked. "Should bally well hope not. Flippin' rabble, wot, wot?"

Tramun turned to the nearest searat. "Ahoy, Growch. Who is this cove? One o' Badrang's?"

Growch squinted at the hare. "Can't recall seein 'im at the fortress, Cap'n. Shall I run 'im through for ye?" He drew a long rusty dagger.

Ballaw, for it was he, suddenly shot his paw out at the fire. "I say, look!"

A huge column of green flame rose wreathed with yellow smoke.

The corsairs fell back from the fire. A chunk of fish fell from Clogg's open mouth to disappear down the front of his steaming shirt.

"Stripe me, a magic rabbit. 'Ow d'yer do that, matey?"

"Can't tell you, old top. Me throat's too parched for words."

Clogg passed the jug of seaweed ale. "Then wet yer whistle wid this

'ere."

Ballaw scrubbed the rim of the jug with his paw then emptied it with one long gulp. The searats were totally amazed.

"Waste o' good ale, that was. Like pourin' it down a well!"

Ballaw leapt up straight and gave a piercing howl. "Owooooo!"

He fell flat on his back and lay quite still.

"Haharr, I knowed it," Clogg chuckled. "E's gone an' done hisself in from 'oggin' all that ale too quick. That'n's a dead rabbit, mates!"

"No he ain't, Cap'n. Look, the rabbit's comin' to life!"

Ballaw's long legs kicked out and upward, once, twice, thrice. He began moaning, holding one paw to his throat while he stuffed the other down his mouth.

Clogg squinted closely at the stricken hare. "Wot's 'e doin' now, Crosstooth?"

"Looks like summat is stuck in 'is gullet, Cap'n. Oh, look out!"

The corsairs gasped in amazement as Ballaw began pulling a long ribbon from his mouth. It opened out wide and frilly. Out and out it came as the hare pulled faster, paw over paw, changing colors as it issued from his mouth red, blue, pink, brown, green, purple, culminating in a vivid yellow with large black letters written upon it.

Ballaw sat up and read it aloud. " 'Cap'n Tramun Clogg' why that must be your goodself, sir!"

Clogg scratched his plaited beard fiercely. "Aye, that's me name.

'Ow'd you know?"

Ballaw leaned close to Clogg's ear. "It'd shock you what us magic rabbits know, my good fellow. Here!" He presented Clogg with a rosy apple that he appeared to pull from the pirate stoat's ear.

Tramun clacked his clogs together with delight. He was immensely taken with his new found friend.

"Gruzzle, Boggs, fetch wine an' vittles fer our magic rabbit 'ere.

C'mon, matey, tell us yer name."

Ballaw bowed courteously. "Tibbar!"

"Tibbar, wot sorta name's that?"

"Why, it's simply rabbit spelled backwards, me old buckadoodle."

"Haharrharrharr! Yore a good un, Tibbar. Do more magic fer us."

Ballaw adopted a droopingly sad face. His ears flopped downwards.

"Alas and alack, old mateyfriend, I must go. But would you like to see some more magic creatures? We could put on a show of legerdemain, a tale of unrequited love and skulduggery that would astound you!"

"Aye that we would, Tibbar matey." Clogg nodded eagerly. "When'll ye bring yer friends?"

"Tomorrow eve just after sunset, into the courtyard of yonder fortress, if I have your promise that none shall harm us."

The Cap'n held a grubby paw to his stomach, which he valued far more than his heart. "Promise? You 'ave me oath as a corsair, matey.

You an' yer mates is to be treated like queens an' kings made o'

butterfly wings, and I'll slit the gizzard of anybeast that looks the wrong way at ye!"

"Until tomorrow night then, sweet Cloggo!"

Ballaw flung his paw out at the fire. There was a puff of heavy purple smoke, a blinding white flame, and he was gone.

The corsairs stood in a hushed group around the fire, rubbing their eyes after the flaring white brightness.

Gruzzle shook his head sadly. "The magic rabbit's gone, shipped out in a flash. D'you think 'e'll turn up again like 'e said 'e would, Cap'n?"

Clogg fished about in his shirt until he found the chunk of mackerel. He nodded as he chewed on it. "Bless yer 'eart, Gruzzle, o'

course 'e will. Tibbar's me matey. D'you 'ear wot 'e called me? Sweet Cloggo. Ain't that 'andsome!"

Ballaw trotted back into camp humming snatches of a tune he was composing. Rowanoak's voice greeted him.

"Lookout, everybeast, it's Tibbar the magic rabbit, fresh from his corsair debut."

"Magic rabbit yourself, you old stripehound." Ballaw helped himself to a large wild cherry flan. "Well, chaps an' chapesses, the jolly old wheeze worked. We open tomorrow night in the main courtyard of Fortress Marsh ballyank. Leave it to De Quincewold, eh wot?"

"Ballaw, you deserve three hearty cheers!" Felldoh shook his head admiringly.

The theatrical hare's ears stood up indignantly. "Stow the applause.

I'd sooner have three hearty suppers and some decent cordial to wash away the taste of that corsair's seaweed ale. Dreadful swill! That Cap'n Clogg's chaps aren't goin' to last long drinkin' that stuff. Dearie me no, they'll end up warped or rotted. Take m' word."

Under a quarter moon on clifftops still warm from the day's sun the Rambling Rosehip Players rehearsed for the following night's performance. Felldoh and Brome learned the business quickly. They had to.

15

More than a day's journey south on those same clifftops, Martin and his friends camped for the night. Unable to risk a fire in strange and possibly hostile territory, they sprawled wearily at the edge of a small scrubby woodland that grew up almost to the cliff edge.

Grumm massaged his ample stomach as it gurgled plaintively.

"Hurr 'scuse oi, moi tummy's a thinken moi mouth 'as fergotted 'ow to eat."

Rose propped herself up on two paws. "What I wouldn't give for a plain ordinary oatmeal scone spread with honey right now."

The scone hit Rose on the head, landing on the ground beneath her nose. She sat up, looking at it with astonishment.

"Where in the name of apples and acorns did that come from?"

Grumm picked it up and took a bite. "Burr, 'tis still warm an'

spreaded wi' 'unny too!"

"Hoi! Can I have one too?" Pallum called out cheekily into the darkness.

No sooner had he spoken than a scone thudded on the ground by him. The hedgehog chuckled with delight, not questioning where the food came from. Pallum was a simple soul, practical too.

"Go on, Martin. Have a go. Ask for one!"

The young mouse was standing alert and upright, Amballa's small sword in his paw. He peered into the darkness murmuring, "Yes, I'd like a scone with honey. Wouldn't mind something to drink too.

Strawberry cordial would be nice."

The scone struck his footpaw. He did not see which direction it came from. As he bent to get it a voice called out of the woods, "You'm can 'ave the scone, moi dears, but oi bain't throwen moi gudd beakers abowt an' spil len drinks 'ither 'n' yon. Hoo arr no!"

Grumm leaped up waving his ladle, which he had retrieved from the pigmy shrews. "Oi'd be knowen that speak. 'Tis a moler loik oi!"

A mole came plodding out of the darkness. She was dressed in an oversized mob cap and a huge flowery pinafore.

"Hurr, oi bain't nawthen loik you'm, maister. Oi be just loik oi, Polleekin."

She sat on the grass beside them, wiping her paws on the flowered apron and conversing as if they had always been there.

"Moi 'eart, 'twas an 'ot summer day t' day, et surely wurr. Oi was gatheren oop 'ee scones after coolen 'em off in 'ee shade, when oi yurrs sumbeast a longen furr scones, so oi throwed him'n summ."

Rose laughed her merry tinkling laugh. "Oh you're so kind, Polleekin. Thank you!"

The mole stood up, dusting herself off busily. "Oi aspeck yore well

'ungered an' thursty too. Young uns allus are, partickly travellers.

Coom on then, 'ome wi' oi."

They introduced themselves and told Polleekin their story as she led them to her dwelling in the wood.

Grumm looked up at it, hardly able to believe his eyes. "Moi seasons! A moler liven oop inna tree. Hurr!"

Polleekin did actually live up in a tree. It was an old dead oak that had fallen at a crazy angle against a tall rocky outcrop. The trunk was practically a stairway. They followed her up to a large comfortable room built between three thick boughs. It was floored with driftwood and cordage and roofed with the same material, tightly chinked with moss, earth and leaf packing to keep out wind and weather. The walls were formed by the foliage of the surrounding trees, skillfully woven together. They sat on a low mossy branch broad enough to be a bed, listening to Polleekin chatter as she prepared their supper.

"Hurr, oi be all alone in 'ee wurld naow. Fam'ly growed, troibe gone, so oi do as oi loiks wid moiself, liven in 'ee tree, fearen nobeast an' given welcumm to most, hurr aye."

The supper when it came was little less than spectacular.

Strawberry cordial, dandelion and burdock beer and hot mint tea.

From a small stone charcoal fed oven the homely mole produced a stew of carrot, turnip, peas and leeks, a large cottage loaf and a button mushroom turnover garnished with parsley. From her larder came a dark heavy fruitcake with maplecream topping and an assortment of wildberry tartlets. She bustled about, laying them on the floor.

"Get thoi jaws round that liddle lot. Oi allus keeps vittles in plenty yurr, you'd be apprised at 'ee visitors oi gets, moi dears."

Conversation and talk went out of the leaf screened windows as they applied themselves to the business of serious eating. Polleekin watched them, rocking back and forth on a springy bough and tapping her old digging claws together. Only when they had slowed down to the picking stage did she venture to speak.

"They creeturs you'm be a looken for bain't passed thisaways."

Rose sighed as she poured herself some of the fragrant mint tea. "I hope they're safe and well, Polleekin."

The mole closed her eyes, nodding slowly. "Ho, they'm safe enuff an' awroight furr 'ee moment, mizzy, never fret."

Pallum stared at her curiously. "How do you know?"

Still nodding and smiling, with closed eyes the mole spoke. "Oi knows lots o' things but oi doant know why oi knows 'em. Places, faces, 'appenings an' all manner o' things runs in an' out o' moi ole

'ead, loik beefolks in an' out o' ee hoives."

Martin stared fixedly at the wise old mole, his food forgotten. "Yes, I had a feeling when we first met that you were not ordinary."

Polleekin shrugged, opening one eye to look at Martin. "Oi carn't

'elp it, maister. You'm be a wurrier beast loiken thoi daddy afore you'm. That liddle knoife bain't 'is sword. You'm got a longways t' go afore yon sword cooms back to 'ee. Doant maken you'm less'n a wurrier, tho'. Oi seen gurt brave wurriers in moi long seasons, but none like you'm, Marthen."

The mole went into a doze then. She talked no more. When they were finished eating they lay back on the broad comfortable bough and were soon asleep. Moonlight filtered through the leaves on to the faces of the four friends as they slumbered. Polleekin moved silently, touching each of their faces tenderly. She shook her head and wiped her eyes on the flowery apron.

"Pore young uns, so much 'arpiness an' sadness afore 'ee, iffen on'y you'm knowed. Oi be glad moi seasons are near run an' oi doant 'ave to carry otherbeasts' loives around in moi ole 'ead for long naow."

Martin opened his eyes to the song of small birds with dawn sun filtering green and gold through the leafy walls of the tree house.

Rising silently, he climbed down to the woodland floor. There was a cool spring rising out of the rocks, bubbling its way into a small pool.

The young mouse swilled his face and paws, shaking away the droplets and drying off with a pawful of grass. Polleekin bustled past with a small rush basket.

"Mawnin', zurr Marthen. Lookee, liddle mushyrooms, celery, lettuce an' early 'azel nutters, green uns, some dandelion an' crabapples."

Pallum appeared, looking into the basket and nodding hungrily.

"Mmm, they look lovely and fresh."

The old molewife slapped his paw away as he reached for a young button mushroom. "Gurr, you'm young roguer. 'Old still till oi make thoi breffist."

Grumm and Rose took a hurried wash at the spring. Shaking themselves dry, they scrambled swiftly back up to the tree house for breakfast. Polleekin could work wonders with vegetables, and she did.

They feasted on mushroom and celery soup garnished with young dandelion petals, followed by the scones she had baked the day before, now well soaked through with honey. Rose poured crabapple cider for them as the old mole began outlining her luncheon menu.

"Oi'll bake a gurt cake wi' woild plum 'n' damson from moi last autumn larder. Hurr, an' meadowcream aplenty to go wid et."

"Rurr, oi'm drefful sorry, marm but us'ns be gone afore long."

Grumm's voice was heavy with regret.

Polleekin wiped hefty digging claws on her apron. "Aye, so you'm shall, tho' oi dearly wisht 'ee would stay yurr wid oi awhoil, p'raps two day or more."

Rose sat next to the old molewife, patting her back. "I wish we could stay for ever, Polleekin, but we must get to searching for my brother Brome and our friend Felldoh. That is, if they still live."

Polleekin sighed. "Oi told you'm larst noight, mizzy. They two be aloive an' well. Doant ask me 'ow oi knows, 'cos oi cuddent tell 'ee, but take moi word, oi knows it fer sure. You'm three creeturs be best travellen straight fer Noonvale. Stay 'way from 'ee vurmin fort. Bad fortune awaits 'ee thurr iffen you'm return."

Martin leaned forward. "What sort of bad fortune, Polleekin?"

The old one closed her eyes, rocking back and forth. "Nay, zurr Marthen, 'tis not for oi t' say, lessen oi be a tellen lies an' moi ole mem'ry be playen tricks loike it do sometimes."

The friends did not pursue the question further, though Rose had a request to make of PoLleekin.

"You told us to travel to Noonvale. I for one think it a good idea.

But I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest idea where it is from here. We're completely lost. Can you help us?"

The mole opened her eyes. Moving slowly about, she began rummaging through her larders and stores.

"Oi'm no good at markin' an' maken wroiten, mizzy. Yurr, take this an' mark as oi say whoile oi make up thoi supplies."

Rose took the proffered barkcloth and charcoal stick. With great care the mousemaid wrote everything down, sometimes making Polleekin repeat things two or three times until she was satisfied. The old mole wife gave out her instructions almost grudgingly as she went about the business of making up four packs of provisions.

Pallum watched her, shaking his head and smiling fondly. "What a wunnerful ole molewife. I bet even Squidjees would be nice to her. My

'eart and stummick is longin' to stay longer in this place with Polleekin, but we've got to go. Still, I'll make myself a promise by my spikes that I'll return 'ere someday an' taste her cookin' again."

Midmorning sunlight lanced through the gently swaying foliage as Polleekin wandered silently off to replenish her larders. The four friends sat studying the message she had dictated to Rose. Grumm smiled sheepishly. "Hurr, oi'm drefful iggerant at wurdin', Miz Roser.

Kin you'm read it to oi?"

Rose read the message slowly.

"Follow your frontshadow, do not stop

Till you reach the one with dead three top.

See the twin paths, beware of one

Sweet as the spreading atop of a scone.

Camp close by night, watch out by day

For the three eyed one who bars the way.

More you will not learn until

Meeting the warden of Marshwood Hill."

Martin scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wish Polleekin would have explained it a little clearer."

Rose shrugged. "She doesn't want us to go. The poor old creature loves to have company. However, knowing that we must carry on and find Noonvale, she did the best she could with her rhyme. Let's take it a bit at a time as we go. Follow your frontshadow, do not stop. What in the name of seasons is a frontshadow?"

Pallum shouldered his pack. "I think it's when the sun is at our back, and the shadow we throw is in front of us. Come on, let's make a start. Now let me see." He looked up at the sun, calculating which way it would travel. "This way, straight into the woodland. In two hours the sun will be at our backs."

Grumm picked up his pack reluctantly. "But whurr's Miz Polleekin?

"

Rose pointed into the scrubby thickness surrounding them.

"Somewhere in there, having a quiet sulk, I shouldn't wonder. Ah well, I don't blame her. I feel pretty bad about leaving here myself, but we must go. I'll sing her a farewell. She'll hear it, I'm sure."

The friends set off into the warm midday. Martin kept his eyes on the country ahead, listening admiringly to Rose's beautiful singing voice.

"Goodbye, my friend, and thank you, thank you, thank you,

It makes me sad to leave you upon this summer day.

Don't shed a tear or cry now. Goodbye now, goodbye now.

I'm sure I'll see you somehow, if I pass by this way, For the seasons don't foretell

Who must stay or say farewell,

And I must find out what lies beyond this place.

But I know deep in my heart

We are never far apart

While I have a mem'ry of your smiling face.

Goodbye, my friend, and thank you, thank you, thank you, Your kindness guides me ever as I go on my way."

Grumm sniffed, wiping away huge rolling tears as they pressed into the leafy fastness. "Hurr, fair breaks moi 'eart, you'm reckern she 'card

'ee song, Pallum?"

Martin pointed swiftly to a patch of rustling ferns. They caught a glimpse of flowered apron disappearing. "Don't fret, Grumm. She heard Rose's song. Look!"

Four slices of plum and damson cake spread thick with meadowcream, affixed to the drooping branch of a hawthorn, hung bobbing in their path like strange fruit.

Grumm picked one. Sitting down on the ground, he began eating, smiling through the tears that coursed openly down his homely face.

"Moi 'eart but she'm a wunnerful creetur. Oi'd be fair proud t' be a choild of that thurr moler."

BOOK TWO

Actors and Searchers

16

Evening shadows lengthened as the hot day drew to a close. The shore lay warm and dusty beneath the last rays of daylight. Fortress Marshank's gates were thrown open wide. Torches and seacoal fires illuminated the courtyard as the corsair crew mingled with the Tyrant's horde. An alfresco supper had been laid for the two leaders and their aides. A temporary jollity prevailed in the light of the promised entertainment, though Badrang and Clogg still regarded each other suspiciously.

The Tyrant stoat nibbled a leg of roast gull, sipping daintily from a beaker of greengage cordial as he smiled patronizingly at the corsair Cap'n. Tramun Clogg sniffed at a pickled mackerel. With a defiant grimace he dunked it thoroughly in Badrang's cordial bowl and wolfed it down in one mouthful. Choking and coughing, he grabbed a half empty puncheon of kelp beer, tilting it to his mouth and drinking deeply as it splashed widespread down his braids on to the tabletop.

With a loud belch and a villainous grin, he slammed the puncheon back on the table.

"Harr, that's better! Ho lookit, 'ere comes me mate Tibbar an' 'is pals!"

Badrang eyed the approaching troupe scathingly "Hmm, so this is the entertainment we've been waiting for?"

Clogg half drew his cutlass, thrusting his face close to Badrang.

"Aye, so 'tis, an' they're friends of me good matey Tibbar, so don't you fergit it."

Badrang turned his head, avoiding Clogg's fish laden breath. He had dropped his corsair accent now that he held the upper paw.

"Forget it? How could I? You've done nothing but gabble on about it all day."

Clogg was offended by the Tyrant's manner. He squinted fiercely at him. "That weren't gabblin', matey, 'twere a warnin'. Don't mess with those creatures, an' get any thoughts o' slave takin' outta yer 'ead, Badrang. It's double bad luck to any who tries to 'arm me magic friends, see!"

Brome felt himself freeze beneath the huge frog mask that enveloped his head. The sight of Badrang and Mar shank caused panic in his mind.

Rowanoak pushed him gently from behind. "Hurry along now, young froggy. Hop to it!"

Remembering that he was invisible beneath his disguise gave Brome the confidence he needed. Giving a loud croak, he hopskipped into the center of the courtyard and began setting up the scenery from the cart with the other Rosehip troupers. Felldoh was concealed beneath a big comical fox outfit. The tongue wobbled and the eyes rolled every time he moved his head. Beneath the mask, Felldoh peered wildly around, seeing each familiar hated face: Badrang, Gurrad, Hisk. But no sign of his father Barkjon.

Ballaw was in his element. The show, mixed with the ever present danger of appearing before enemies, made his heart beat fast with excitement. Dressed in the flowing costume of Tibbar the magic rabbit, he cartwheeled boldly up to the leaders' table and tweaked Clogg's plaited beard.

"Cloggo, me old crab carcass, me jolly old wavedog companion, top o' the evenin' to you, wot wot?"

Tramun laughed uncontrollably, highly amused at his new friend's antics. Ballaw produced two spoons from Clogg's beard and began clacking them rhythmically together by bouncing both spoons off the corsair stoat's vast stomach.

"When's a stoat not a stoat?

When he wears clogs an' a velvet coat!

When's a stoat an old seadog?

When he's whiskery friskery attery biskery Cap'n Tramun Clogg!"

"Whoa hoho harrharrharr! Ain't 'e a caution, ha harrharr!" Clogg thumped Badrang heartily upon the back. The Tyrant managed to put his beaker down before cordial spilled on his polished breastplate. He glared at Clogg before turning to Ballaw.

"So you're the magic rabbit. Well, let's see some magic."

Ballaw took Badrang's beaker and emptied it at a single gulp.

Before the Tyrant could protest, he refilled the beaker from a nearby flagon and tossed the contents of it into Badrang's face. The Tyrant gave a gasp of surprise and threw up his paws, only to find that the beaker showered him not with drink but with dead leaves. Clogg fell off his chair laughing.

"See, I told yer, that's me ole matey Tibbar the magic rabbit!

Haharrhohoho! Make more magic, Tibbar."

Ballaw bowed elegantly as he leaped down from the table. "Lord Badrang, what d'you wish, old chap a play, or more magic?"

Badrang refilled his empty beaker, checking to see that it was greengage cordial, and not dead leaves. "I'll go along with friend Clogg here. Make more magic." Ballaw extended his paw dramatically.

"Bring forth the deadly dagger of death!"

Gauchee and Kastern came forward, bearing between them a red silk cushion. On it lay a long dagger which glittered wickedly in the firelight. Rowanoak chanted in the background,

"From the deepest darkest dungeons,

'Neath the mountains of the moon,

Comes the dreadful dagger of death,

To bring a creature to sad doom!"

Rowanoak then came forward, dragging Celandine. The squirrelmaid threw a paw to her brow, protesting theatrically,

"No no, no no! Not I, Not I.

One so young and pretty as me

Is far too fair to die!"

Ballaw took the dagger. Producing an apple from an astounded searat's ear, he sliced it in quarters with the glittering blade, smiling wickedly as he called to the assembled vermin,

"See how sharp an' murderous is me blade.

Who would like to see me kill the maid?"

Immediately, there was a silence. Celandine looked so tearfully beautiful nobeast made a sound to condemn her. Except Badrang.

"Run her through, rabbit, and be done with it!"

Celandine shrieked and strove to get away as Rowanoak held her tightly, helpless before Ballaw. The hare held the dagger high.

"Badrang, your name is feared throughout the land.

My Lord, I kill this maid at your command!"

He struck at Celandine. She screamed.

"Aaaaiiiieeeeeee!"

The blade appeared to bury itself full length in the squirrelmaid's body, though it had collapsed secretly back into the dagger's handle.

Celandine took the handle in both paws as Ballaw let it go. She looked as though she were trying to pull it out of her, though she was really pressing it in. Ballaw turned, his face a mask of horror, paws quivering as he held them to his face.

"Alas no more I'll laugh or sing.

I've murdered her, the pretty little thing!"

Celandine staggered about, moaning pitifully.

"Nor more I'll see the dawning o'er the trees, Nor see the golden sunlight in the sky,

The seasons change, the birds, the flow'rs, the bees.

Alack a day, poor me who has to die!"

Buckler stood close to her, banging on a small drum as he muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Coom on, miz, daunt 'ee make a banquet o' it. 'Urry oup an' die!"

With a final heartrending sob, Celandine flopped gracefully into Rowanoak's paws and died, still clutching the dagger to her.

As Rowanoak bore the squirrelmaid's limp form around, some of the corsairs began muttering.

"Shame, she were a pretty liddle beast."

"Aye, mate. That rabbit might be magic, but 'e's fair 'eartless!"

Cap'n Clogg took a huge draught of kelp beer. "Harr, Tibbar, matey What'd you want ter croak 'er for? The show's spoiled now. You gone an' ruined a good night's entertainment!"

Ballaw twirled his magic rabbit cloak. "There, my good friends, speaks a stoat with a heart o' gold; me old companion Cloggo. Just for you, I'll bring her back to life."

Rowanoak laid Celandine on the ground. Ballaw knelt over her, chanting.

"Here lies a young maid who's been killed.

With my own paw I thrust the knife.

Without a drop of her blood spilled.

See, I bring her back to life.

Hocus pocus dumbeldum dreary, wackalup one two three four five,

Gawrum pawrum cockalorum, maid rise up and

come alive!"

He took hold of the dagger and made a great show of pulling it out of Celandine, heaving and grunting until at last it stood free and shining as he waved it in the air.

The young squirrelmaid sat up, rubbed her eyes and smiled prettily as she stretched. "Where am I? I must have fallen asleep!"

There was great cheering and applause for the marvellous trick.

Ballaw swiftly collapsed the dagger back into its handle, stowed it beneath his cloak and brought forth an identical one. This, however, was no trick dagger. The hare stuck it in the tabletop between Clogg and Badrang for their inspection.

Tramun tested the weapon, slamming its point down hard into the table several times. "Tibbar, matey, yore the magickest rabbit I ever clapped eyes on!"

Badrang never bothered testing the knife. He sat back, chin on paw.

"Very good, rabbit. Can you do any more tricks?"

Ballaw pointed at Felldoh in his ridiculous outfit.

"More tricks, you say? Attend me here,

My magic is no trick.

Yon fox, I'll make him disappear,

With a wave of my magic stick!"

Rowanoak whispered in Felldoh's ear, "Now is the chance to free your father. Try to remember what you were told. You won't get a second opportunity. Good luck."

The badger donned a massive black cloak as Buckler and Trefoil unloaded a box from the cart. Ballaw clapped Felldoh on the shoulder, haranguing him loudly as the stage was set.

"Now then, young fellah, you cunning fox, How'd you like to disappear?

Just place yourself inside yon box,

And like a flash you're out of here!"

Felldoh backed off, his head flopping comically as he pleaded,

"What? Vanish me, sir Tibbar, no,

To what strange place would I then go?

Under the sea, or maybe up there,

To regions of the nether air.

I pray you, sir, please let me be.

Magic Tibbar, don't vanish me!"

Ballaw turned to the crowd. They were laughing at the comical fox's plight. Assisted by the rest of the company, he got a chant going that was soon picked up by everybeast.

"Where's the best place for the fox?

Locked up tight inside the box!"

The entire company leaped upon Felldoh and dragged him yelling to the box. There was utter confusion as they thrust him in and he sprang out again. In, out, in, out he went, with the delighted hordes of vermin leaping about chanting louder and louder,

"Where's the best place for the fox?

Locked up tight inside the box!"

Ballaw ran to the fire shouting madly, "In! In! Get him in, I say!"

He extended both paws to the fire.

Whoosh!

A great smoky gouting column of flame lit up the night. Red, green and brightest blue. There was a yell of alarm as creatures fell back, rubbing at their eyes in the blinding light.

Felldoh concealed himself beneath Rowanoak's huge black cloak.

She moved swiftly away to the edge of the firelight and shook the brave squirrel free from the enveloping garment. Felldoh rolled deep into the shadows, flattening himself against the wall as he made his way to the slave compound. Buckler beat furiously on his small drum, secretly kicking away at the box so that it moved and shook. Trefoil stood at his side, her lips scarcely moving as she called out in a loud imploring tone,

"O pity, gentle creatures, lack a day.

Don't leave a poor fox here all locked away!"

Clogg nudged Badrang roughly. "Hoho that's settled the fox's 'ash.

Tibbar's got 'im stowed tight in that there box!"

Kastern and Celandine paraded round, holding up a variety of big old fashioned locks complete with keys and many lengths of tough seakelp rope.

"Who will lock the fox up tight?"

"Who will bind the box up right?"

There was no shortage of volunteers. Searats and corsairs mingled with members of the Tyrant's horde as they crowded round the box.

Some proudly showed their skills in rope knotting, while others secured the locks through the box's metal eyelets.

Ballaw strutted round the secured box, nodding with satisfaction.

"Lashed stoutly by good seafaring beasts, By honest soldiers locked firm,

No creature could possibly get out of there.

Not even the smallest worm."

Badrang plucked the long dagger from where it stood quivering in the table. He strode across to the box, his lip curling as he addressed Ballaw.

"Has the fox disappeared from inside the box now?"

Ballaw's long ears twitched. He held up a cautionary paw. "Wait, Sire. Let me weave the spell."

He circled the box, gesturing and leaping.

"Now you vanish, unfortunate one.

A wave of my wand and you are gone.

Others may search and seek in vain,

But you will never be seen again!"

By sleight of paw, Ballaw produced a hazel twig. He tapped the box sharply, once, twice, thrice, calling out,

"Ongum bongum wollagum woe,

Vanish, disappear, dematerialize. Go!"

Turning to Badrang, he panted in mock exhaustion and bowed. "He is gone, m'lord. The box is empty. Shall I show you?"

The Tyrant smiled evilly, shaking his head. "No. Leave the box secured. But if the fox is really gone, I'm sure you won't mind me doing this!"

Darting forward, Badrang slammed the dagger down with furious energy straight through the box lid, up to its hilt. There was a horrified gasp from the onlookers, followed by a mad roar from Cap'n Tramun Clogg as he charged out, cutlass upraised.

"Murderer! I warned ye, Badrang, none of these magic beasts was to be harmed. You treacherous scum!"

Ballaw acted swiftly. Tripping Clogg, he grabbed the cutlass and ran the box through with it, using both paws. Turning, he helped the pirate stoat up and dusted him off.

"Nay nay, Cap'n. If I say the fox is vanished, then you can be sure he's gone. Hi there, you, Gurrad! D'you fancy throwin' your spear at the box? Anybeast, come on, have a go!"

There was silence for a moment, then Gurrad threw his spear. The heavy weapon crashed through the box, protruding from the other side. It was like a signal. Immediately, daggers, spears, arrows and even swords flew through the air. In seconds the box resembled a pincushion. When the missiles had stopped, Ballaw gave the box a mighty kick with his long hindpaws. It fell apart, showing everybeast that the fox had really vanished.

The hare spread his paws wide, grinning. "You see, when Tibbar the magic rabbit performs magic, it is real!"

Amid the hearty applause that followed, Druwp's voice squealed out from the direction of the stockade.

"The slaves are escaping. Help, come quick, they're escaping!"

17

The four friends had trekked through the scrub woodlands all afternoon, their shadows lengthening in front of them heralding the onset of evening. It had been a still, hot day, and the going was slow in the heat. Rose wiped her brow as she caught up with Pallum. Martin had been clearing ahead with his shrew sword.

"Phew, it'll get a little cooler as night falls, but then we'll lose our frontshadows in the dark."

They waited as Grumm caught up with them. The mole blinked as he wiped the moist tip of his nose. "Hurr, be cooler unnerground, us'ns a goen f make camp soon, Marthen?"

"Good idea, Grumm. We deserve a rest. Where d'you suggest we camp?"

"Burr, oi dunno. Wot say 'ee, Miz Roser?"

The mousemaid stood on tip paw looking around. "Straight ahead, I'd say. It looks less scrubby and the trees are taller, like a proper forest. Let's camp by that old dead oak."

A slow smile spread across Pallum's face. "Do you mean that old dead oak with the three tops ...?"

Rose clapped her paws together as she recited the lines. " Follow your frontshadow, do not stop, till you reach the one with dead three top. Hahah, that's it, an old dead three topped oak. Come on!"

They lay in a mossy hollow at the base of the long dead forest giant, eating supper and looking up at the night sky Above the woody canopy countless stars bejewelled the dark velvet expanse, and a silent fiery tailed comet flashed across the peaceful scene. Rose picked at a small carrot and turnip farl as she passed the canteen of mint and lavender cordial to Martin.

"Well, we found the dead three top easy enough. Tomorrow we'll look for the twin paths. Oh, I do hope Brome and Felldoh are all right.

I'd hate to think of us lying here eating if they needed our help."

Martin took a sip from the canteen. "Trust Polleekin's words, Rose.

There's nothing else we can do. Brome is young, but Felldoh will look after him he's a warrior."

The mousemaid looked at the short shrew sword sticking in the ground close to Martin's paw where he could reach it quickly.

"What's it like, being a warrior?"

"I don't know really," Martin shrugged. "I won't consider myself a warrior until the day I take my father's sword back from Badrang."

Rose tossed a piece of her bread. It bounced off Martin's nose.

"Silly, of course you're a warrior. Even Polleekin saw that. I know you're a warrior because you protect others. Look at the way you've helped me and Grumm, and Pallum. And the way you dealt with that big seabird. Nobeast but a warrior could have done that."

Gentle snoring noises came from the mole and the hedgehog.

Martin chuckled. "No good asking them, they're sound asleep like I should be. Us warriors need lots of sleep, you know. Good night, Rose."

Long after Martin had gone to sleep, Rose lay awake thinking of her home in Noonvale.

"Noonvale." She said the name in a whisper to the star strewn night.

To her it meant peace, happiness and security, filled as it was with family and friends. Noonvale, the secret place of the ancient northeastern forest. The young mousemaid closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, far from home. Noonvale.

Dawn arrived soft as a feather on air. Martin opened one eye and watched two ants trundling off with the tiny piece of bread that Rose had thrown at him. He lay still, thinking of Noonvale. He had talked with Rose the previous day. As they walked, she told him about her home, with Grumm adding the occasional comment.

The more Martin heard of the place the more he liked it. Maybe someday he could live there, with Rose and her family and Grumm and Pallum . ..

"Coom on, zurr Marthen. You'm a goen t' loi thurr all season?"

Grumm prodded Martin with his little ladle. "Naow, wot'll 'ee 'ave fer breffist. Oi c'n make zoop."

Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes. "No soup, Grumm. We'll eat from the packs."

Martin stood and stretched. "Aye, best not light a fire in strange country."

Grumm wandered off, muttering to himself. "Burr, no foire. Oi do loiks moi zoop of a mornen, leastways oi'm not a goen wi'out fresh water. Oi'll go an' seek summ out."

Rose smiled as she dug apple turnovers out of her pack. "He's a proper old grump some mornings. Should've been called Grump instead of Grumm. Here, have one of these turnovers. He'll be back soon with fresh water. That's another thing he insists on most mornings. Even in winter, he'll sit out sucking icicles in the snow."

Pallum, Martin and Rose broke their fast with apple turnovers, some candied hazel and chestnuts and the remains of the cordial from the canteen. They sat enjoying the quiet woodland as the sun warmed the morning. Pallum kept some food out for Grumm as he repacked their provisions.

Rose stood up, looking around anxiously. "Where has that mole got to? He only went for water. I'll give him a shout..."

"No, don't raise your voice, Rose. If Grumm can hear it then so can others. Come on, we'll take a quiet walk and look for him."

Martin could see that Rose was concerned for her friend. She kept shaking her head and murmuring under her breath, "He's never usually gone this long. Grumm, silly beast, where are you?"

They were not far into the tall trees when Martin stopped. Pointing ahead, he leaned close and whispered, " See the twin paths, beware of one Sweet as the spreading atop of a scone. There they are, Rose. The twin paths. Look."

Two definite paths twisted and curved away through the tall treetrunks, one to the left, the other to the right.

"Maybe Grumm's gone down one, but which one?" Rose's voice sounded small in the huge silent forest.

"Neither, I 'ope. They both look pretty fearful. Maybe I best stay

'ere and wait in case Grumm shows up. You two can explore the paths.

I'd only get in the way."

Rose could see that the hedgehog was afraid. She patted his prickles carefully. "Good idea, Pallum. Come on, Martin."

They ventured a short way along the path that ran to the right. It wound and curved but seemed safe enough. Martin shook his head.

"Let's try the left path."

Creeping stealthily forward, they explored the left path. It seemed more tangled and overgrown than the other and oppressively hot.

Again Martin halted. He made a gesture towards his ear, indicating that Rose should listen. The mousemaid heard it right away. It was a thick, heavy humming, like nothing she had ever heard. Straining her ears, she caught a low, frightened whimper.

"That's Grumm!"

"Aye, and it's coming from round that bend. You stay here, Rose."

Martin drew his small sword.

"I'm coming with you. I couldn't stay here, Martin." Rose caught on to his paw.

"All right, but stay behind me and try not to make any noise."

They inched forward carefully. The humming grew heavier until it seemed to be part of the very air they breathed. There was an overpoweringly sweet smell everywhere. Martin brushed aside a wild dogrose and they rounded the bend.

It was a very strange scene that met their eyes.

Bees! There were literally millions of the insects. They swarmed on shrubs, bushes, trees and all over the ground. A fallen elm blocked the path completely, and gigantic hives stood everywhere along it old hives, new hives, half built hives and old broken ones. Honeycomb could be seen exposed in parts, thick, golden and wax seamed. Amber nectar dripped to the ground and onto the heavy fungus that grew around the fallen tree. With his back almost touching the trunk sat Grumm, the small ladle held against his nose so that he could breathe.

Rose stared wide eyed. It was hard to distinguish Grumm from the bees that swarmed on him. They were all over his furry body, from footpaws to eartips, covering him completely and buzzing dangerously.

Grumm had his eyes tight shut. Every once in while he would make a small frightened sound around the ladle that protected his nostrils.

"Sit still, Grumm," Rose said in a husky whisper. "Don't cry, there's a good mole. Martin and I are here now."

"Hurrmm, Miz Roser." Grumm's voice sounded muffled as he talked around the ladle. "They'm trapped oi daown yurr. Ooch! They stingen oi, not all at oncet, moind, just when they feels loik 'avin' some fun with oi. Ooch!"

Rose kept her voice low. "I'm sorry you're being stung, Grumm, but sit still and we'll have you out of there soon."

Martin spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Rose, they've got us trapped now. There's as many behind us as there are in front, and they're blocking our way out. Ow! I've been stung on the footpaw and they're beginning to swarm on me. You can't fight bees with a sword.

Owch!"

Rose looked at Martin then down at herself. "That's strange, not a single bee has landed on me. Look!" She held her paw forth. Not a single insect tried to land on it.

Martin blinked in surprise. "How d'you do it... ? Owch!"

Realization dawned on Rose suddenly. "Martin, Grumm, don't speak, don't say a single word. I've noticed that every time you speak you get stung. Now, the bees aren't stinging me, so it must be because they like the sound of my voice. I've got an idea. Listen, I'm going to start singing. If they like my voice when I speak, they're sure to like it if I sing gently. As soon as you feel that it's safe, then take my paws and we'll walk out of here, or at least give it a try. Well, here goes. Let me sing a bit first."

Martin and Grumm remained still, like two statues covered by masses of slowly moving bees. Rose began her song.

"You will find me at Noonvale on the side of a hill When the summer is peaceful and high,

There where streamlets meander the valley is still,

'Neath the blue of a calm cloudless sky ..."

Right away Martin noticed a difference in the behavior of the bees.

The buzzing diminished to a low background hum and the insects that were crawling over him ceased their activities.

"It's working," he whispered urgently to Rose. "Keep singing. I'm going to take your paw. Grumm, can you hear me? Reach out for Rose's paw when she sings."

Rose continued, her voice like warm breeze on a soft night.

"Look for me at dawning when the earth is asleep.

Till each dewdrop is kissed by the day,

'Neath the rowan and alder a vigil I'll keep, Every moment that you are away ..."

Rose stretched her paws forth. Feeling Martin and Grumm take them, she turned and began walking back down the path with a slow, measured pace. Martin and Grumm trod carefully alongside the mousemaid. She continued singing, and as they went the bees began dropping off and buzzing lazily back to their hives.

"The old earth gently turns as the seasons change slowly.

All the flowers and leaves born to wane.

Hear my song o'er the lea, like the wind soft and lowly.

Oh, please come back to Noonvale again."

Pallum was waiting anxiously at the entrance to the path. At the sight of his friends returning he did a small dance of joy, coupled with anxiety at the lumps and bumps raised by the bee stings.

"Haha! There you are, thank the seasons! Oh, look at you, Grumm, all covered in swellin's. What happened?"

The mole smiled at his worried friend. "Bo urr, that be anuther story, Pallum. Move asoide so us'ns can set daown an' rest us'ns' weary bodies, hurr?"

The three travellers slumped against a spreading sycamore. Martin shook his head in amazement, burying his short sword point down in the loam. "Thank you, Rose. That was marvellous. Who needs a sword to defend us? That's the second time you've won a victory with your voice first as a sea eagle, then as a singer. You know, the strange thing is that I hardly noticed the bees. All I could hear was your song. I could have listened to it for ever!"

Pallum made poultices of dockleaves, nightshade and mud. "Sit still now while I put these on your stings to cool them. Best thing in the world for stings. How's that?"

"Ooh, you don't know how good that feels," Martin sighed gratefully as the fire died from the stings under Pallum's ministrations. "All we need now is another song from Rose."

Grumm spat away a bee sting that he had nipped out with his teeth.

"Ho yurss, Miz Roser be the noicest songer in all Noonvale. 'Er daddy an' oi watched many a time whoil she singen 'ee burds outen 'ee trees."

Rose was all a fluster. She jumped up and shouldered her pack. "It was only an old Noonvale song. Every young creature there can sing it as well as me. Come on you two, or are you going to sit there all morning?"

The mousemaid set off down the path at a lively pace, with Martin and Grumm bringing up the rear as Pallum pulled stings from them.

"That's it, right there in the middle of my back. Ooh, that's better.

Get that one on the side of Grumm's neck."

"Oochooch! Go easy, zurr 'edgepig. You'm wurser than 'ee liddle peskers as put yon stingers thurr!"

They made good progress that day, though the woodland grew high and gloomy as they traversed it. It was noontide, yet the sun could hardly be glimpsed through the high interwoven foliage canopy. Dim green light filtering down gave the path an eerie quality of unreality.

Halting by a little brook, the four friends made a late lunch of applescones washed down with the cold sparkling water. When they had finished, Grumm and Pallum sat dabbling their footpaws in the brook, grunting and making small noises of happiness as the babbling water gurgled over their paws. Martin and Rose sat behind them, nudging each other and stifling silent giggles as they watched the pair enjoy their paddle.

"I see you. Beware!"

Quick as a flash, Martin leaped up, drawing his sword at the sound of a booming voice in the half lit forest. He held up a paw, cautioning his friends to silence. They waited a moment, then the voice echoed out a second time.

"Go back, small ones. Leave my path!"

"Who are you?" Martin shouted then, surprised at how the forest echoed and magnified his voice.

"I am the Mirdop." The spectral sound rumbled about the treetrunks. "I see all. None can pass me. Go back!"

"We mean no harm," Martin replied, keeping his voice friendly as possible. "We are only travellers trying to reach Noonvale!" Leaning aside he whispered quickly to Rose. "Keep him talking. I'll try and find out where he is!"

"Be still, all of you!" the voice rang out, hollow and angry. "For I am Mirdop, born in a storm at the night of winter's moon! I see all! I slay all!"

Placing her paws firmly together, Rose did a magnificent harsh grating voice which rang and echoed wildly.

"And I am Martin the Warrior. I have slain more than the hairs on your hide! I have defeated Amballa and Badrang. Let us pass!"

There was more silence, then the voice called threateningly, "One warrior is nought to a Mirdop. I will eat him up!"

Rose resorted to her own natural voice as she answered, "There is more than one warrior here, there are four! I am Rose, the deadliest slayer in Noonvale. I eat Mirdops for breakfast. What say you, Pallum the Mighty?"

Pallum swelled until his stickles separated and shrieked out,

"Yahoooo! I am Pallum the Mighty. I carry a thousand swords! I too eat Mirdops, though generally as snacks! Stay clear of me and watch out for my friend Grumm the Growler!"

"What is a Grumm the Growler?" the mysterious Mirdop voice answered them. This time Rose thought she caught a note of hesitation in it.

The mole shuffled forward, brandishing his ladle. "Oi be Grumm the Growler, a gurt moighty beast! Oi makes zoop out o' Mirpods an'

sangwiches from they tails, ho urr!"

"I care not who you be." The Mirdop's voice sounded definitely unsure now. "Go back or die. Nobeast passes the Mirdop!"

"Hurr, then they be allus a furst toime!"

"Stand aside or we'll go right over you!"

"Mirdop or no Mirdop, we're coming!"

"Stay back, keep away." The Mirdop voice sounded strained and frantic now. "I've fought foxes, battered badgers, whipped weasels, strangled stoats... Owooooaaahhheeeh!"

"Over here, friends. Hurry!" Martin's voice rang out loud and clear.

From somewhere up in front of them came a crashing and the most dreadful earsplitting screams and yells.

Rose grabbed a fallen branch and shook it fiercely "The Mirdop must have got Martin. Come on. Chaaaaarge!"

The three travellers rushed forward along the path to where the horrible noises rose to a deafening intensity.

18

Tullgrew and Keyla threw themselves upon Felldoh, hugging and patting the brave squirrel.

"Haha! Good to see your battered old face again, mate!"

"Aye, yore a sight for sore eyes all right friend!" Felldoh winked at them cheerily. Helped by Tullgrew and Keyla, Felldoh battered aside two logs from the compound wall. It was difficult to keep the joyous slaves silent and orderly. Barkjon and Hillgorse hurried them through, encouraging and advising quietly.

"You get through, marm. I'll pass you the young un." "Haha! We're free, Barkjon. Free as the air!" "Not quite. Keep your voice down and hurry please." "Hillgorse, can I take my bag of shells? They'll make good cups and platters. I've collected them for three seasons.

"Leave them, we may have to run for it. You'd only be slowed down lugging that lot along."

Felldoh and Keyla had taken the two logs from the palisade, laying them against the back of the fortress main wall to form an easy way to the top. They lifted and pushed the slaves up to where Tullgrew waited with a stout kelp rope. One at a time she swung them out over the top.

"Now I'm going to lower you down. Let go of the rope and jump as soon as you can. There's bedding mattresses down there to break your fall. Hurry now, we need the rope for the others."

In the midst of the bustle, Barkjon found time to grasp his son's paw. "Felldoh, I knew you wouldn't let us down. Where's Martin?"

The squirrel hugged his father quickly. "That's a story for another day. Come on, let's free these slaves, old bushtail!"

For the first time in many a long day Barkjon grinned happily. "Old bushtail yourself, whippersnapper. I'll wager you don't go over that wall faster than I do!"

It was as they were laughing together that Druwp shouted, "The slaves are escaping, help, come quick, they're escaping!"

Badrang kicked over the banquet table. Hauling out the sword that had once belonged to Martin, he laid about him with the flat of the blade.

"Get to the compound, quick! I knew something like this would happen. Come on, stir your stumps, you addlebrained scum. Move!"

The Tyrant's horde stumbled over each other, grabbing weapons as they rushed to do their master's command. Badrang dashed about like a madbeast, using the flat of his blade as a rod, smacking heads and paws with numbing force.

"Hurry, run! Are you deaf or stupid? Move, you mudworms!"

Tramun Clogg sat on the overturned table, still drinking and eating, a sly smile hovering on his greasy lips.

"Ho dearie me, the liddle slaves are all runnin' off. 'Ere, Gruzzle, d'you reckon it's 'cos they don't like it 'ere?"

The Tyrant cast a murderous glance at the corsair stoat. "This is all your fault, Clogg you and your magic rabbit with his performing friends. They've got something to do with this, I'm certain of it! Well, aren't you going to help?"

Clogg slopped kelp beer down his whiskers as he drank. "They're yore slaves mate, you see to 'em. I'm only a pore 'onest wavebeast who's down on 'is luck."

Quivering with rage, Badrang pointed his sword at the corsair.

"Don't worry, I will. But you look to those magic friends of yours and hold them here until I get back. I'm holding you personally responsible for them!"

The Tyrant dashed off after his horde.

Ballaw glanced uneasily at Rowanoak. "D'you hear that, old gel, looks like we're in for a spot of bother, wot? Plan number two I'd say, eh!"

Brome tugged at Buckler's tunic. "What's plan number two?"

"Hurr 'tis pretty simple, maister. When you'm be in trouble an' they audience doant loik 'ee no more, then us'ns run fer it loik billyoh!"

Rowanoak began singing softly to the Rambling Rosehip Players.

"I think we'll call it a day,

Back to the cart I say.

It's exit left without any pay. We'd be better off far a way!"

The company began sidling unobtrusively towards their cart.

Clogg staggered upright. Throwing his drink down, he began rugging to free the cutlass from his waist sash.

"Ahoy, Tibbar. 'Old 'ard there. Where d'you think yore off to?"

Completely unruffled, Ballaw made an elegant bow.

"Love to stay, old Cloggo old stoat, but you know how 'tis. We need our jolly old beauty sleep."

Tramun tipped the wink to Boggs, Crosstooth and Gruzzle. In a trice they had the pirate crew surrounding the players.

Clogg licked the blade of his cutlass and closed one eye. "An' all the time I thought you was me mateys. It ain't friendly like runnin' off so soon. 'Ow's about you doin' one more bit o' magic fer ole Tramun?"

Ballaw gave the stoat a large toothy grin and a wink. "Why certainly, me old wave walloper. One more piece of magic, just for you, comin' up right away. How'd you like to see me vanish the entire troupe, cart an' all, presto, just like that!"

"Vanish the 'ole crew of ye?"

"That's what I said, old sport."

"An' the cart too, an' all of this whilst yore surrounded?"

"That's the ticket, Cap'n!"

"Haharr, 'tis impossible. But you carry on, matey!"

Ballaw collected several hefty pieces of firewood and distributed them to the troupe. Meanwhile, Rowanoak harnessed herself to the cart shafts. The hare indicated by sweeping dramatic gestures that they all climb up on to the cart. When they had, he joined them.

"Laydeez an' gennelbeasts, watch closely! As you see, we are all holding a large magic wand each. That is, with the exception of my good friend the magic badger there. Now watch closely please, as my old uncle Flob bears used to say. The speed of the paw always deceives the eye, an' more often than not blackens it. Are you ready? One, three, two four, whatever. Chaaaaarge!"

The huge female badger threw all her weight and speed against the shafts, sending the cart forward like a runaway boulder on a mountainside. It smashed through the surrounding corsairs, sending them scattering like ninepins as the troupe flailed and thwacked away at searat heads with their large magic wands.

Clogg was taken aback momentarily, then he was up and pursuing the cart as it headed for the open gate of Marshank.

"Stop' em. It's a trick!"

Ballaw caught Gruzzle a hefty blow, sending him ears over tail. "Of course it's a trick, old lad. I told you it was!"

Tullgrew gave a shout of alarm from the walltop as she saw the horde pounding towards the compound. "Lookout, Felldoh. They're coming!"

Only half of the slaves were over the wall. Felldoh looked around in desperation as Hillgorse and Barkjon came running to him. The horde were now pelting around the outside of the compound towards them.

Barkjon groaned aloud. "There's too many and we have no weapons!"

Felldoh gritted his teeth. "At least half of us got away. Wait, this might hold 'em off a bit!" Grabbing a chunk of rock, he called up to Tullgrew, "Throw that rope down!"

Catching the rope, Felldoh secured the rock to one end of it and began swinging it as he advanced on the horde. It took out several of them before they hurriedly backed off. The chunk of rock circled and whirred in a deadly blur as Felldoh roared, "Come on. Who's next, you stinking bunch of cowards! Come on!"

"Get him, you dolts! Rush him!" Badrang howled with rage as he pushed his creatures forward.

Grabbing a spear from a weasel called Rotnose, Bad rang hurled it.

Still swinging the rock, Felldoh leaped to one side. The spear missed him but took Barkjon through his shoulder. Immediately, Hillgorse pulled the spear from his friend. The hedgehog was powerfully built despite his age. Wielding the spear with a strength born of desperation, he launched himself at the horde of foe beasts, plunging and stabbing wildly. In the narrow space between stockade and wall they were driven back by the spear and the swinging rock. Hillgorse stuck the spear in the ground by Felldoh.

"Give me the rope, young un. Take the spear and get your father away from here, he's been wounded. Do as I say, quickly!"

Felldoh grabbed the spear as he felt the rope taken from his paws by Hillgorse. Tullgrew had climbed halfway down the two log steps on the wall, and between them they hauled the semiconscious Barkjon upwards. Two arrows found Hillgorse as others clattered and bounced off the walls around Tullgrew and Felldoh, who had succeeded in gaining the walltop with the limp form of Barkjon held between them.

Bravely Hillgorse swung the rock, his strength failing as he shouted at the walltop, "Get away from here, Felldoh. Save your father and the others!"

Another arrow struck Hillgorse, and the rope slipped from his paws. The old hedgehog's eyes were misting over as he gave a final roar and hurled his spiky body into the ranks of the enemy.

Felldoh tried to scramble back down to Hillgorse, but Tullgrew hung on, pulling him back. "We must escape. He gave his life so we could be free!"

Felldoh bit his lip until blood showed. He took one last look at the scene below. Badrang and his horde were beginning to mount the logs and scale the wall, and the slaves who had not managed to escape were forcing their way back into the compound through the gap they had made. Felldoh still had the spear in his paw when he noticed who the last of the slaves was and shouted his name.

"Druwp!"

The treacherous bankvole did not turn. He knew who was calling him. He tried to squeeze through the gap back into the stockade but found his way blocked by the slaves inside.

"Out of my way or I'll report you!"

Those were the last words that Druwp spoke. Felldoh threw the spear, harder than he had ever thrown anything. It found its mark between the traitor's shoulder blades.

"Jump!"

Holding Barkjon between them, Felldoh and Tullgrew leaped from the walltop into the night. It was a good drop, but the straw packed mattresses broke their fall. The others were waiting for them. They looked this way and that, unsure which would be the best direction to take in the darkness. Suddenly a nearby rumbling caused them to crouch down in the wall shadows, and a voice rang out.

"What ho, is that the disappearin' fox?"

Felldoh gave a sigh of relief. "Ballaw! I see you managed to escape safely."

"Rather! Though at the moment there's a posse of pirates hot on our paws. I say, have you got ladies an' young uns there?"

"Aye, and a wounded father, and any moment now Badrang'll be coming over that wall with his horde."

"Calls for a bit of quick thinkin', wot? Righto! Get the babes, mothers an' wounded into the cart. Everybeast fit to run get pushin', but wait until I give the word.. . Wait for it..."

The sound of Clogg's crew rounding the outside of the back wall blended with the shouts of Badrang and his horde, who had now reached the walltop. Ballaw kicked the last of the straw mattresses away into the night and joined his friends at the cart.

"Head south smartly now. Look alive, you chaps. Go!"

The wheels of the small wagon nearly left the ground as it shot forward, propelled by every able bodied creature. In moments it had clattered off into the darkness.

Badrang pushed Hisk and Gurrad off the walltop. Grabbing others, he began shoving them off into space.

"Jump, you lily livered toads. The slaves did it easily enough. Come on, you there, Nipwort, Fleabane. Jump!"

Bodies went flying from the walltop. Horde soldiers shut their eyes and leaped, preferring the drop to Bad rang's towering anger.

The removal of the cushioning straw sacks made the landing hard for those who did not land on the heads of Cap'n Tramun Clogg and several of his crew members.

Ballaw had judged his timing right. Confusion reigned in the darkness as the corsair crew and the Tyrant's horde fought each other tooth and claw in the night.

19

A monster stood on the path in front of Rose. It had the body of a fox, the talons of an owl and a huge snakelike head with three big goggling eyes surmounted above rows of fearsome teeth. Dashing madly along to where the dreadful screams were issuing from, the mousemaid tried to stop at the sight of the horrendous apparition.

Grumm and Pallum cannoned into her back, sending her staggering straight into the arms of the nightmare beast. She screamed aloud in terror as she blundered into its embrace.

Then it collapsed on the path in a dusty heap. Straw, grass, bark, dead ferns and feathers swirled everywhere.

Rose sneezed, spitting out a mouthful of downy fur as Pallum and Grumm came gingerly forward to help her up.

"Burr, wot be et?"

"Huh, Mirdop, it's nothing but a great big doll hanging from the trees by bits of creeper!"

Rose dusted herself down, looking around wildly. "Where's Martin?

"

The horrendous screams had stopped. To one side of the path Martin sat upon a great hollow log, chuckling quietly. "Bravo, Rose.

You've just slain your first Mirdop!"

The mousemaid looked flustered. "But how ... and you ... those screams ... ?"

"Come over here and I'll show you."

Martin bent beside the hollow log and called aloud, "Go back, for I am the Mirdop and I will slay you!"

The sound thundered and reverberated around the forest, magnified by the hollow ash log.

Grumm uncovered his ears when the noise faded.

"But oo wurr a doen all 'ee shouten?"

Martin took them around the other side of the big log to where four rabbits, obviously mother, father and two young, were lying slumped.

"Oh dear, you haven't killed them, Martin?" Rose gasped.

The young mouse shook his head and smiled. "Of course not. I couldn't harm creatures like these. I sneaked up and saw what they were doing, so I thought I'd take a leaf out of your book, Rose."

The mousemaid looked mystified, then Martin explained.

"Remember, the warrior who uses the voice instead of the sword?

Well, I crept up behind them and started yelling as loud and horrible as I could. Of course, being new at this sort of thing, I suppose I underestimated the power of my cries. The rabbits seemed to freeze then fainted right away!"

Rose hurried to the side of the two babes. She stroked them tenderly until they began whimpering and moving. "Poor little things.

You great bully, Martin. Fancy doing an awful thing like that!"

Grumm and Pallum had to hide their faces to stop bursting out laughing at the sight of Martin, paws outstretched in bewilderment.

"I didn't hurt them. What was I supposed to do, set about them with my sword, or ask them nicely to please stop terrorizing travellers? You're the one who went and destroyed their Mirdop. Bully yourself!"

Rose fussed about, wetting the older rabbits' mouths with water until they revived. Instantly they drew back in horror.

"Aagh! Go away, you savage creatures. Which one is Grumm the Growler, and who is Pallum the Mighty and Rose the Slayer?"

Grumm tugged his snout respectfully at the female rabbit.

"Hurr 'tis oi, marm. But oi doant mean 'ee no 'arm."

Martin took a slightly stronger line with them. "Er, just a moment, please. I think it's we should be asking the questions. What d'you mean by shouting threats and trying to intimidate travellers on this path?"

The father rabbit held a shaky paw to his brow. "Please, not so loud, we're really delicate creatures, you know. Allow me to introduce us. I'm Fescue, this is my wife Mildwort and these are the twins Burnet and Buttercup. Mirdop's the family name, hence the, er, figure we have to keep away intruders."

"Oh yes, it was Fescue's great Grandpa who built it," his wife interrupted. "One never knows what horrid types of beast want to wander abroad on our path. Please don't harm us, we were only protecting ourselves."

Rose sat by Mildwort Mirdop and spoke soothingly "We wouldn't dream of harming a nice little family like yours. I'm sorry we frightened you, but we were rather scared ourselves with all that threatening and roaring you were doing."

Fescue laughed nervously. "Er yes, haha, rather good, wasn't it? By the way, have you had tea yet?"

Grumm's stomach made a small gurgle as he rubbed it. "Us'ns be allus ready furr vittles, zurr. Do you'm 'ave zoop?"

Mildwort stared down her snub nose at the mole. "Hardly. Soup is not good for one at this time of day. Follow me, please."

They followed the Mirdop family down into their burrow. It was large, comfortable and spotless. Behind their backs, Pallum made a snooty gesture with paw to nose, and Grumm nodded in agreement.

Tea was a very formal affair in the Mirdop burrow. First the guests were given lavender scented soap, warm water and soft barktowels to wash and dry their paws. The two young rabbits were sent back several times until their parents were satisfied that their paws were cleaned properly, then they all sat down at a small table.

Mildwort Mirdop brought a large pot of steaming mint tea with honey to go in it, a platter of wafer thin cucumber sandwiches and seven tiny oat scones, each lightly spread with raspberry preserve. She seated herself, and in the silence that followed murmured quietly to her husband; "The grace before tea, dear."

Fescue coughed gently to clear his throat. They all stared down at the spotless tablecloth while he repeated the grace.

"For all we receive for tea,

Thanks to the seasons be.

Partake we sparingly

Of this good meal."

As they each chose a cucumber sandwich, Mildwort scolded Burnet.

"Sandwiches first, scones later. Put it back please."

Baby Burnet scowled slightly. "Scones are my fav'rite."

Fescue tweaked his ear lightly. "Baby bunnies should be seen and not heard, Burnet. Don't talk back to your mother. How many times must we tell you!"

The meal was eaten rather quickly in polite frosty silence. Grumm made a sucking noise as he drained his teacup and sat back. "Hurr, they'm noice scones, marm. Oi'm partial to a noice scone."

Mildwort sniffed. "So are we, Mr. Grumm. There are more in the cupboard for tomorrow."

Fescue smiled nervously as he nodded agreement.

"Indeed there are, dear. No sense in overstuffing with food. Er, you say you are bound for Noonvale. I've no idea where the place is. We've always lived by our path, never moved away. I'm afraid I can't give you any directions, but I'm sure that from here you'll have to cross the west marshes. My advice to you is watch out for lizards. Nasty things cannibals, I might add!"

Baby Burnet nodded and agreed with his father. "Cab binals!"

"Burnet!" Fescue looked severely at him. "Do not interrupt your elders and betters. You are excused from the table. You too, Buttercup.

Don't stray far from the burrow and try to keep clean. Bedtime soon."

Like two silent shadows, the little ones got down from their chairs, bobbed a curtsy and a bow to the guests and left the burrow with their mother's voice ringing in their ears.

"Walk, don't run. How many times must I tell you!"

As she cleared away the tea things from under the noses of the still hungry travellers, she said in a strained voice. "You are welcome to stay the night in our burrow."

Rose kicked Grumm beneath the table as he searched for crumbs.

"How nice of you, Mrs. Mirdop, but we wouldn't dream of imposing upon your good nature. Besides, we have a long journey ahead of us and we must go while there is still daylight. Er, you mentioned cannibal lizards, Mr. Mirdop?"

Fescue Mirdop helped his wife to fold the tablecloth. "Oh yes, so I did. Right, here's what you must do. At the edge of the forest the marshes begin. Find the place called Marshwood Hill. If the lizards trouble you, then strike the gong you will see hanging from a hornbeam tree. The Warden will take care of you. He's such a nice creature, isn't he, dear?"

Mildwort Mirdop nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, the Warden of Marshwood Hill, a very, very nice creature!"

They took their leave of the Mirdops, thanking them for a pleasant stay. Mr. and Mrs. Mirdop waved before retreating back down their burrow. Grumm rummaged through their ration packs until he found some candied acorns and chestnuts. The two baby Mirdops were playing in front of the burrow, and he gave them a pawful each of the nuts.

"Yurr, babbies, eat'm oop noice'n messy loik. They'm guid'n sweet."

Further along the path, Martin and Rose fell about laughing as Pallum imitated the hungry Grumm at tea, taking both the parts of the mole and Mrs. Mildwort Mirdop.

"Burr, oi'm pow'ful 'ungry, give oi a scone, missus!" "No no, you nasty rough mole, one is quite sufficient!" "Hurr, then give oi summ zoop, marm." "Soup? Lack a season, the ruffian will eat us out of house and burrow. Go away and be off with you, you gluttonous beast!"

Grumm drew his ladle and shook it at Pallum. "One moor wurd out of 'ee an' oi'll raise a bump on you'm spikers!"

Late that evening they reached the forest edge. Standing on a small rise, they looked down on the great West Marshes spreading as far as the eye could see. Grasshoppers chirruped in the short hillgrass and myriad swarms of flies and midges were everywhere.

Rose shooed a cloud away with a dead fern. "Whew! I'm not sleeping the night out here. Let's go back and camp in the fringe of the trees. We can face this lot in the morning."

They slumped down wearily beneath a sycamore and a beech. A slithering nearby caused Martin to jump up. Two long slowworms snaked away hissing noisily, disturbed from their rest. The creatures made no move to attack, but Martin stood with short sword drawn watching them slither down the side of the rise toward the marshes.

Pallum began collecting dry firewood and digging a shallow pit.

"It's all right, they're only slowworms. Evil looking reptiles, they do lojs of hissing but they can't really harm you. Right, Grumm, what'll it be? Cucumber sandwiches or one scone apiece?"

The mole was busy digging out some mushrooms he had found. He looked up, shaking soil from his snout energetically. "Zoop, we'm 'aven zoop! Aye, an' oi'll make a pudden too, wi' some apple an' blackberries growen over yonder."

Night fell warm and mild, with the small fire burning red as they sat around it, well fed and satisfied with their day's progress.

"Tut tut, Mr. Grumm the Growler," Rose teased Grumm. "If I were you I'd put half that pudding away for the morrow. You've eaten far too much already and it's way past your bedtime!"

The mole looked up from a ladleful of pudding and snorted, "Oi should've left you'm be'oind wi' they Mirk dops, mizzy. Teach you'm some manners, hurr!"

They watched a full moon move silently from behind pillowy night cloud formations, it hung in the sky like a still, new polished silver coin.

The two slowworms had returned. With them was a band of lizards twoscore strong. Their tongues slid silently in and out, filmy eyes blinking constantly against the dry warmth of the night. The two slowworms indicated where the sleeping travellers lay by thrusting their heads forward and hissing. The lizard leader, a great red frilled reptile, nodded his head slowly as he watched the glow from the red embers of the fire dying lower. Soon the fire would be cold and the four travellers deep in sleep. The lizards waited patiently, watching their leader, waiting for him to move.

20

It was fully dawn when the escaped slaves and the Rambling Rosehip Players made their way back to the hide out on the southern cliffs. Puffing and panting, they threw themselves down on the grass and lay in the cool morning breeze. Gauchee came later than the rest.

She had been watching their backtrack, covering the cart marks and keeping a wary eye peeled for pursuers. The mouse sat with her back to the cart.

"Nobeast following us, they must still be busy righting among each other."

Ballaw flopped his long ears thoughtfully from side to side. "Maybe so, but they'll try and find us. I can't imagine old Badthingy lettin' half his slaves an' us off that lightly. We'd be best postin' a guard. I'll take first watch, me an' this jolly lookin' young mousey feller here. What's your name, sir?"

"They call me Juniper."

"Righto, Juno, me old nipper, you an' me are first guard."

Rowanoak blew tenderly on her paws. "Ooh, that's better! This dashing about all night doesn't suit me any more. Not as young as I used to be. Kastern, what are you up to this morning?"

"Well, there's lot of new mouths to feed," the sensible young mousemaid explained, "so I'm going to organize a forage party, see what we can find to swell our larder out a bit. I'll take some of our new companions when they've had a rest and a bite of breakfast."

Rowanoak liked to keep her paw on the pulse of activities in camp.

She sat down and began massaging her footpaws.

"Hmm, good idea. Who's on cooking duties this morning?"

Trefoil wiped wheat flour from her paws on a dock leaf. "It looks like it's me again. I did it yesterday too. That Celandine was supposed to take her turn today, but she's probably off fluttering her pretty eyelashes at the new arrivals and enchanting them all."

"Oh, is she. Well, I'm not having any of that!" Rowanoak stood up decisively. "There are no shirkers in this troupe, everybeast pulls their weight. Where is she? Celandine! Celandine, it's no use hiding, missy.

I want a word with you, m'lady!"

Rowanoak searched the camp several times before she began to get worried. Nobeast had seen the pretty squirrelmaid.

Ballaw left sentry duty a moment to call an assembly.

"Attention please. Has anyone seen Celandine?"

Barkjon held a healing poultice of herbs to his injured shoulder.

The wound was not as serious as it had appeared the previous night.

Felldoh held his father's head upright as Brome fed him soup from a scallop shell.

"Drink up, sir. This is made from green nettles and I don't know what, supposed to help recovery."

The old squirrel licked his lips as he finished the soup. "It tastes very nice. What's going on over there, some sort of meeting?"

"It's a young squirrelmaid, one of the company she's missing."

Barkjon sat up a bit, resting his back against his son's paws. With his eyes half closed he nodded slowly. "I remember now. Was she an extremely pretty creature?"

Brome put aside the empty shell. "Oh yes, d'you recall her?"

"Indeed I do. Though I was only half conscious, I remember seeing her face over the back of the cart as she pushed. I thought she was the nicest looking squirrel I had ever seen. I must have dozed off awhile, because when I woke she wasn't there any more. Perhaps she tripped and fell."

"Aye." Brome nodded, recalling the wild dash from Marshank. "We were going so fast that nobeast would have noticed. She's either lost or captured by now."

Felldoh laid his father down carefully. "If she's lost I'll find her."

Barkjon struggled to get up. "But what if she's captured, son?"

"Then I'll free her, or die trying!" Felldoh's strong face radiated anger and hatred. He strode off, leaving Brome and Barkjon gazing after him.

The old squirrel shook his head. "Let him go, Brome. There is a great rage in my son against all that Marshank stands for. You were only there a short while, he has spent most of his life as a slave. I know how he feels."

Soon the news was all over the camp that Celandine was either lost or captured. Ballaw posted Buckler on guard with Juniper. He conferred with Rowanoak awhile, then they both went to talk with Felldoh.

The squirrel was sitting by the fire. At his side lay a pile of short heavy driftwood lances. He was hardening their points to needle sharpness by burning and rubbing them on a rock. Felldoh was intent on his work and he did not even bother to look up as the hare and badger approached.

"What ho, treejumper. Looks like you're armin' yourself up to start a one beast war there, wot?"

Felldoh continued sharpening the short lances as he replied,

"Whatever it takes, I've got scores to settle at Marshank."

Rowanoak squatted alongside Him. "Need any help, Felldoh?"

He pulled another lance from the fire and began grinding it to a point on the rock. "It's not your fight. I got your troupe into this, and it's time I did a bit myself without endangering others."

Rowanoak nodded understandingly, realizing Felldoh was in no mood to be argued with. She watched him awhile before picking up one of the lances and weighing it in her paw. "How far can you throw one of these things?"

Felldoh took the lance and stood up. "Far enough. My muscles are stronger than most after seasons working in Badrang's rock quarry."

He threw the lance from the cliff top. It sailed out over the beach a fair distance before burying itself point first in the sand.

"Not bad at all." Rowanoak winked at the hare. "Ballaw and I can throw a short lance twice that distance."

"I'd like to see you try!" Felldoh laughed humor lessly.

Ballaw sought around until he came up with a piece of driftwood not quite as long as the lances Felldoh was making. Taking a knife, he cut a deep notch across one end of the wood, then hefted it and made several throwing motions. A few more adjustments to the wood with his knife and Ballaw nodded with satisfaction.

"That's about right, old chap. Pass me a javelin any one'll do."

Felldoh selected one of the short heavy javelins and gave it to Ballaw. The hare laid the javelin flat along his piece of wood, point forward and the other end resting against the notch he had cut. With the weapon lying flat on the wood against the notch, he drew back his arm, took a short hopskip and flung out, holding on to the wood. The javelin soared away, passing Felldoh's weapon on the beach, travelling onward and finally splashing down into the water on the tideline, almost out of sight. Felldoh gasped as Ballaw gave him the piece of wood.

"Here, old lad, you have it. Simple device, eh wot? Makes your throwing arm twice its length and gives you double the distance."

Felldoh looked at the javelin launcher as Ballaw continued, "We've won many a supper at tribe gatherings in the south with one of those.

There was always some big brawny beast wagered he could throw a javelin farther than me or Rowanoak."

The badger offered her paw to Felldoh. "Now do you want our help?"

Felldoh grasped the big paw, his eyes alight with resolve. "Let's go and see if they've got Celandine at Marshank!"

Accusations flew thick and fast at Marshank, Clogg and Badrang blaming the whole thing on one another in the wake of the confusion at the rear wall. While the remainder of the slaves were under heavy guard, the other corsairs and horde members gathered in the courtyard to witness the argument raging between their leaders. It was a fine show of rage, spleen and insults.

"Hah, Lord 'igh an' mighty Badrang, is it? Can't 'old on to arf a passel of defenceless slavebeasts. Yore a lob stertail!"

"I'd sooner be anything but a complete idiot who lets the enemy into Marshank and has the gall to call them friends. You always did keep your brains in your clogs, Tramun, you buffoon!"

"Buffoon yerself. Ye blown up pollywoggle! There was me an' the crew nearly catchin' those creatures, an' wot did you do? Jumped off the wall on to our 'eads, you jellyfish!"

"Jellyfish? You're the one who started all this mess, addlebrain!"

"Oh, is that so? Then who set fire to my ship and who let the slaves escape? You've brought bad luck on both of us, fiddlebrain!"

"Shut your mouth, you pigtailed poltroon, or I'll shut it for you!"

"Haharr, now yore flyin' yer true colours, jugnose. I'm not stoppin'

round 'ere to bandy words with the like o' you, I'm off to do somethin'

useful. Gruzzle, Boggs, form the crew up fully armed."

"Hold hard there, woodenpaws. Where d'you think you're off to?"

"Well, clean out yer mucky lugs an' lissen whilst I tell yer. Those slaves that escaped last night is now free beasts, you got no jurisdiction over 'em anymore, Bad rang yore Lordship. So, if any beast were to recapture 'em, then they'd belong to the finder, an'

that'll be me if yer please. Come on, lads. Away, boat's crew!"

Badrang watched Clogg and his crew march off through Marshank's front gates.

"Shall we form the horde up and stop 'em, Lord?" Gurrad whispered anxiously to the Tyrant.

Badrang gave the rat a withering glance. "Stop them, what for? Let me do the thinking, Gurrad. If Clogg recaptures the slaves, where's he going to take them, what's he going to feed them on, where's he going to keep them penned up?"

Gurrad looked puzzled, "I don't know, Lord. Where?"

Badrang tapped a paw against his skull. "That's why you're a hordebeast and I'm a leader, Gurrad. What else can Clogg do but bring them back here. When he does, I'll take them from him. So, what could be simpler than allowing Cap'n Tramun Clogg to be our slave chaser."

Gurrad sniggered gleefully, rubbing his paws together. "You're a clever one, Sire. A real clever one!"

Badrang buffed his claws on his fir and inspected them. "I could buy and sell an oaf like Clogg anyday. He'll soon find that out to his cost."

Celandine was lost. When she tripped and fell while running through the night with the cart, the young squir relmaid had cracked her head and passed out on the spot. Dawn had broken a full hour before she came to. Celandine's first reaction was to sit and cry, and she did so. Sobbing and wailing broken heartedly, she lay on the clifftop, kicking her footpaws and nursing a bruised lump, just below her ear near her jawline. At regular intervals she would stop and sniff, calling out the names of Ballaw, Rowanoak, Buckler and Felldoh.

Hearing no reply, the pretty squirrelmaid would throw herself back full throated into a bout of copious bellowing and weeping. Why did no one come? There was always somebeast round to dance attention when tears flowed down her beautiful face. It took quite a long time for Celandine to realize that she was totally alone, so she set about doing what she did best, preening herself and attending to her looks.

She brushed, licked, dusted and primped, holding her head coyly on one side so that the curve of her bushy tail hid the unsightly bump she had suffered. Then she sat again and bemoaned her fate aloud to the bright morning air.

"Owwww! Why doesn't somebeast come for me? My head's aching and I must look a dreadful sight. Owww! I'm hungry and thirsty and dusty and dirty and now I'm lost. Owoooh!"

The weasel Floater had been scouting ahead. He made his way back to where Clogg was leading the crew.

"No tracks of the carts, Cap'n. They finish over yonder. Musta been somebeast coverin' the trail."