The Outcast of Redwall

4?

The seasons turned through spring and summer to a mellow autumn. In the highlands of the far east, Bowflegs drums beat Out their message of warning, while Swaitt and his ragged band of vermin traversed over tor and scrubland. The pounding drums sent word to three rat runners from Bowflegs camp, who took off at a swift lope, heading for a long cliff range that puckered the land like an old scar.

At the foot of the cliffs, bunched close like dirty thunderclouds, lay the tents of Bowfleg the Warlord. The runners halted beneath the purple pavilion awning of the sprawling tent at the hub of it all and prostrated themselves in front of the circular dais. Bowfleg lolled on his throne, peering at the messengers through the puffy eyelids of his swollen features. The old ferret grunted as he leaned his gargantuan bulk forward and asked, “Hwodd do de dromms say?

At the sound of the Warlords strange accent, the senior rat looked up and made his report. “Mighty One, the drums tell of Swartt Sixclaw coming hither with a band numbering not more than twoscore.

Bowfleg dismissed them with a snort. “Chah! Dadd one, de runaway, metink e be long dead!

A stoat Captain standing nearby leaned close to Bowfleg. “Sixclaw was always spoken of as a wildbeast, a strong fighter, even when he was very young. I would watch that one, Lord.

Bowfleg grabbed a roasted thrush from a side table and wrenched off a mouthful. “HSwartt, e can join my order-anks, de gudd fighter iss always of use. If nodd, I crosh im, like dis! The Warlord flattened the thrush carcass against his throne with a single blow of his clenched paw. “Bring im ere when e arrive!

The stoat Captain, whose name was Greenclaw, saluted smartly and marched off.

At mid-noon Swartt Sixclaw entered the camp of Bowfleg bearing giftsa carved spear, two belts studded with bright stones, a flagon of fine wine, and a drinking cup of silver. Swartt1 s small band were disarmed and kept outside under guard by a detachment of swordbeasts, each of whom wore a crimson tabard bearing Bowflegs insignia, a single white fang in a green circle. Greenclaw escorted Swartt into Bowflegs presence. The ferret knelt respectfully, noting the giant weasel who stood behind the Warlords throne.

The gifts were placed before Bowfleg, who turned them over with the point of his scepter. “Leave us now, he ordered Greenclaw. With a snort of contempt he looked at the young ferret kneeling before him. “When you young an cheeky, you tink you bettern Bowfleg, liddle runaway, gonna bring back mooch plunder. Nobeast cudd tell Swartt any tink den. Ho no, e knew everytink. Chah! Nodd mooch for one who hes away so long, eh?

Swartt could be a charmer when required. Smiling disarm-ingly, he looked up at the Warlord and shrugged. “I can go many places an see many things, but to learn real wisdom an courage I return to the master.

Bowflegs vast bulk shook as he laughed. “Kyahaha! Dadds gudd, you still know who hes master!

Swartt stretched forward and kissed Bowflegs footpaw. “How could I forget, Lordyou taught me all I know. I was young and foolish when I ran away from here. I am wiser now.

The Warlord beckoned Swartt to stand upright. “Im glad to see you godd more sense, budd dont tink you be wiser dan me. Anybeast feel like dadd soon hes dead!

Sixclaw turned aside so the other could not see his eyes. “I must remember that, Lordtoo much wisdom can be the death of a creature, very good!

The old Warlord waved his scepter at the gigantic creature standing behind his throne, saying, “You see dis wizzel? E be Wurgg de Spinecracker. Dis one guard me nightnday, e slaved many manybeasts. You watch!

At a nod from his master, the giant weasel stooped and lifted the throne with Bowfleg sitting on it. Showing no sign of strain or effort, he held it chest high then lowered it slowly at Bowfiegs signal.

“Hwodd you tink o dadd, eh? the fat old ferret Wheezed.

Swartt was impressed. Cleverly he let his mouth fall open wide, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “Never did I see a ;fjeast of that size or power! Lord, you have both wisdom and Strength on your side, nobeast would dare to oppose you.

Bowfleg cocked his head on one side, staring at Swartt pensively. “Den why do you comm ere?

Swartt Sixclaw sat on the top step of the dais. “Only to you, Lord, and to tell you of the rich lands that lie to the south and west. Maybe one day I can travel there with you, as a Captain in your horde.

Bowfleg nibbed a fat paw across his stomach and began to laugh. “Kyahahakyukyuk! I dont travel nowheres, dis iss my land. Hwodd I wanna travel for, godd everytink right ere. I like you, Swam, you young, full of de big ideas. Ere you come oud of nowheres, raggedytaggle! Han wodd you bring me, eh? Spear? I godd many spears. Belts? Nodd bigg enough. Cup an wine? Who nidd dem?

“The spear is a symbol of your power, Lord, said Swartt, indicating the gifts one by one. “The belts are a sign of my support, but the wine is special, fit only for great ones. He uncorked the wine flagon and sniffed it delicately. “The oldest wine of the southlands, dark and sweet with the juice of elderberry and plum, specially for you.

He offered the bottle to Bowfleg. The Warlord sniffed it and smiled craftily. “Hyou tink I be stupid. Ere, I want to see you drink.

Swartt took the flagon, pausing as he held it to his lips. “You see. Lord, I learn from you all the time. If this wine were poison then I would be a deadbeast.... Tipping the flagon, he drank deep. “But I would be the stupid one if I offered you poisoned wine. It is good wine, the best, thats why I brought it to you.

Bowfleg watched Swartt a moment, on the lookout for ill effects, then said, “Give me somm, I tell you if it iss gudd wine!

Swartt offered the bottle, then, as if remembering his manners, he pulled back and filled the big silver drinking cup, which he passed to Bowfleg.

The Warlord smiled over the rim of the cup at him, “I still bes watchin you. Ow you feel, eh?

“Never better, sire. Swartt chuckled. “But if you still doubt me, then try the wine on your giant there.

The Warlord patted the massive weasels paw. “Ah yiss, my hfaitful Wurgg, comm drink.

The weasel lifted the chalice like an eggcup between two of his thick claws. He emptied it with a loud sucking noise and gave the cup back to his Lord with a smile and a single word: “Good!

Bowfleg put on a face of mock indignation as he looked up at Wurgg. “Hoi! I say hwodds gudd, give me somm a dis wine!

Swartt filled the cup three times before the greedy Warlord was satisfied. Bowfleg lounged back on the throne, confident that the new arrival posed no threat to his leadership. “Zo, hyou back now, Sixclaw, gudd, gudd! You go now, find you-self a tent, inna mornen we spikk more togedder.

Swartt knew he had been dismissed. He made an elegant leg and bowed before he left the tent, saying, “Sleep well, Lord Bowfleg!