Mattimeo

Chapter 31

Stonefleck’s army was indeed a large one. Mattimeo had never seen so many rats. They swarmed through

the bushes, trees and hillocks of the far shore, efficient and silent. Every rat carried a bow and arrows, and

they gathered in groups, each under a leader who took his orders from Stonefleck the commander. The

captives were secured among the trees, but Mattimeo could still see the river. He sat with Tim and Auma,

listening to Stonefleck and Slagar conversing.

“Let us see if your pursuers can make it across the river, Slagar. They are a determined band, but they

have not met my longtail army yet. All they have had to contend with is a few slavers.”

“I have a slave line to worry about,” the Cruel One sniffed. “Open warfare is not my business. Besides,

you have a mighty army.”

“Aye, and every one of them an expert archer. I could deal with those woodlanders using only a

quarter of my force.”

“Huh, then why don’t you?” Slagar challenged him.

“Because I never leave anything to chance. Are you going to stay and watch, just to make sure your

enemies get slain?”

“No, I will carry on south. If your army is as good as you boast, I should have no need to worry about

being followed. Threeclaws! Form them up into line, we’ve got a full day’s march ahead.”

Mattimeo and his companions were jostled and prodded by Vitch. “Say goodbye to your father and his

friends, Mattimeo, they will be dead creatures before this day is through,” the rat taunted him.

The young mouse did not allow himself to be baited by Vitch, even though his heart sank at the thought

of his father and the rest being caught out on the open water by the huge rat army that lay in wait on the

shore of the river. He took a deep breath and smiled carelessly at the undersized rat.

“Your master Slagar could not kill my father, neither will Stonefleck and his vermin. The Warrior of

Redwall has proved himself before now against rat armies, and he will live to free us. When that day

comes, you and I have a score to settle. I’ll be looking for you, Vitch.”

As they were herded away through the trees, Mattimeo allowed himself one last backward glance at the

far shore beyond the river shimmering in the morning sunlight. Though he could not see his father, he

murmured under his breath, “Martin keep him safe!”

The sounds of axe and sword had been ringing through the pine fringe since dawn. Many of the trees at

the edge had not been able to take proper root in the loose sandy soil of the banks, and some were only half

grown. Orlando swung his mighty axe with long, powerful strokes, often felling a tree so that it took one of

its weaker neighbors down with it. Matthias had cast his habit aside. He slashed and hacked at the branches

of each felled tree, trimming it so that Cheek, Basil, Jess and Jabez could roll it down to where Log-a-Log

was in charge of raft construction.

“Flugg, bring those ropes over here,” Log-a-Log ordered. “Gurn, soak that moss well and mix it with

soil; I want good caulking that won’t leak. Garr, I need that trunk over here. You others, help him.”

There was little the Guosim leader did not know about watercraft. Log-a-Log was a ferry shrew, the

son of ferry shrews. He watched the flow of the river, pointing out his course to Basil.

“We’ll take a wide sweep upriver, then I’ll bring about in midwater and land us on the other shore

somewhere about there, see? That way we’ll be going due south again.”

Basil dipped one ear. “Aye, aye, Cap’n, as you say. Bear in mind, old feller, that I wasn’t cut out for a

nautical career. I’ll have to have a substantial meal first. No use bein’ watersick on an empty tummy, wot?”

It was early noontide before the raft lay completed in the shallows. Log-a-Log folded his paws and shook

his head.

“Bit rough, Matthias. Best I could do at short notice.”

Matthias passed him apples and shrewcake. “She’s a stout raft, Log-a-Log. I couldn’t ask for better. I

know you’ll use all your skills to get us safely across. What are you so worried about, young Cheek?”

The otter stroked his dry nose. “It’s er, well, er, d’you see…. Well, it’s the water, Matthias. I’ve always

been a bit frightened of it. Oh, the odd stream and woodland pool aren’t too bad, but look at the size of that

old river. I never saw anything so big and fast-flowing in Mossflower.”

Basil flung an apple core into the river. “Haw haw! Well I’ve heard everythin’ now, a bally otter who’s

frightened of rivers. Curl my whiskers, that’s a good un.”

“Now, now, Basil,” Jess chided the scoffing hare, “you’re not too fond of the water yourself. It’s bad

form to make fun of another creature who feels the same.”

Basil relented and flung a paw around Cheek. “Righto, point taken, Jess. Here, young otter m’lad, what

say you and I stay together in the middle of the raft? We can hang on to each other and get into a fine old

blue funk together, eh?”

Jabez Stump trundled aboard the raft. “Ah well, we can’t hang about here all day. There’s a river to

cross. You comin’ aboard, Warrior?”

Matthias sheathed his sword and leapt onto the floating logs. “Keep your heads down when we reach

the other side. No telling what’s waiting over there,” he warned.

Log-a-Log grasped the forked branch which served as a tiller. “All aboard! Cast off on shore, poles

ready riverward, bring her round. Steady as she goes, we’re under way!”

The raft bobbed and swayed out into the current. Blue waters reflecting the skies above rushed and danced

to white foamy peaks spraying into the breeze.

The eyes of Stonefleck’s rat army watched eagerly from the far bank as the little craft started its journey

towards them.

General Ironbeak landed skilfully on the path in front of the main Abbey door. He tucked his wings away

neatly, parading up and down with a swaggering gait.

The door swung open, and Constance and the Abbot stepped outside, followed by John Churchmouse.

The Abbot nodded civilly.

“Good afternoon. Do you wish to go inside?”

Ironbeak cocked his head on one side, eyeing them boldly. “Yaggar! What I have to say can be said out

here, earthcrawlers. I hold the upper claw today. Maybe if you had killed my fighters and me on the stairs

yesterday, instead of playing your silly little games, you would have been the victors. It is too late now; we

meet on my terms.”

Mordalfus tucked his paws into the wide habit sleeves. “Then speak. What is it you want of us?”

“Complete surrender, old mouse!”

“I am sorry, but that is impossible,” the Abbot replied.

“Nothing is impossible if you hold dear the lives of your creatures.”

“We have lost Brothers and Sisters before now.”

“Aye, but that would have been without choice,” the General pointed out. “Step forward a bit and look

up to the rooftop of this redstone house.”

The three friends walked out onto the path. Shading their eyes, they looked up.

Ironbeak gave a harsh cry and waved one wing.

The three captives were forced to the roof edge, where they could be seen. John Churchmouse groaned

aloud. Constance stood close to him and whispered, “Courage, John. We’ll get them back for you. Trust

your Abbot, let him do the talking.”

The tiny figures high above swayed in the breeze, skirts billowing out as they kept hold of baby Rollo,

who was waving cheerily.

“Karra! High, isn’t it.” General Ironbeak preened his wing feathers as he spoke. “Oh, not to a bird, but to

an earthcrawler it is as if your head were bumping the clouds. It’s a long way down too, if you don’t hit the

sides or bounce off a few gutters. Who knows, you might even smash through one of those low roofs.

Imagine all that happening to a baby mouse. There wouldn’t be much left to tell the tale when he hit the

ground.”

John Churchmouse bit his lip until the blood trickled to his chin.

The Abbot disguised his true feelings and shrugged carelessly. “Then as far as I am concerned you have

our surrender, but not completely. Unfortunately, I am only the voice of one, and this Abbey belongs to us

all, not just me. We must have a little time to consider your offer, then a vote will have to be taken.”

Ironbeak raked the path fiercely with his talons. “I will have your complete surrender. Now!”

The Abbot sat upon the path. Plucking a blade of grass, he sucked it, shaking his head.

“I am very sorry, but it is not my decision. Throw the captives from the roof if you must. All our

creatures are not present, and it is not possible to give you a firm decision right now. We need time to

discuss this and take a ballot.”

Ironbeak kicked gravel left and right, realizing that if the captives were slain his bargaining power was

lost.

“You say you need time. How much time, earthcrawler?” he demanded.

“Oh, at least three sunsets.”

“That is too long. How do I know you are not planning something?”

The Abbot looked old and frail, and he smiled disarmingly. “General, you give us too much credit.

What could we do against you in the space of three sunsets? We are not warriors, we cannot fly like you

birds, we are only earthcrawlers. Besides, you hold the captives. What better insurance of our good

behaviour?”

The raven signalled Mangiz to have the captives taken into the roofspaces.

“Two sunsets, not three.” He clacked his beak decisively. “Two sunsets and no longer!”

Mordalfus stood up and bowed gravely. “Thank you, Ironbeak. You shall have our answer two sunsets

from now.”