The badger touched his wide, flame-shaped wound. "It feels fine, thank you, Sister. Could I see it?"
Abbot Daucus extended his paw to Gorath. "If you feel well enough to walk, there's a polished shield on the wall, in an alcove over there. I've seen many a pretty young Red-wall maid using it as a mirror. Come on, take a peek at yourself, friend, it's not so bad."
On reaching the alcove which contained the shield, Gorath staggered right past it. He pointed at the Redwall Abbey tapestry, his voice sending booming echoes around Great Hall. "It's him, it's the warrior with the sword. There!"
Orkwil grasped his big friend's paw. "Hah, see, told you there was somebeast you might want to meet--that's Martin the Warrior!"
Gorath sat down on the floor, gazing at the woven figure. "He saved my life!"
It was impossible not to be impressed by the likeness of
138
Martin. His eyes seemed to follow every creature, they were kindly eyes, but brave and resolute. Orkwil had always thought there was something very comforting in looking at Martin, he felt reassured by the sight of the warrior, as did every Redwaller. The Abbot placed something in Gorath's paws, it was the warrior's sword. Though it looked no bigger than a long dagger in the badger's massive grasp, he admired it greatly.
"This is a marvellous blade, whoever forged it must have been a master of the armorer's craft." The badger leaned toward the tapestry as if listening to something. He beckoned to Orkwil. "Would you please bring me my weapon?" Orkwil did as he was requested.
Gorath held the pitchfork until it was close to the tapestry. "This is not a real warrior's thing, but I call it Tung, it isn't as wonderful as your sword, but it has always served me well." Gorath laid Tung alongside Martin's sword by the tapestry. Without another word, he curled up on the floor and slept.
Sister Atrata whispered to Orkwil, "He seems to like it there, I'll bring him blankets, and a pillow. Your friend is still not recovered."
The party tip-pawed away from the sleeping badger, with the Abbot murmuring softly to Skipper, "Anybeast who can talk with Martin is a friend of Redwall."
Benjo Tipps agreed. "Aye, you could tell they was talkin' to each other, just by watchin' Gorath!"
Orkwil cast a backward glance at his friend, slumbering deeply, watched over by the greatest warrior of all. He whispered in Martin's direction, "If you can, sir, get Gorath well, so that he can help us to face those vermin!"
Did the eyes of the figure on the tapestry blink? Or was it just a trick of the flickering candlelight?
139
14
Brownrats secreted behind rocks on both sides of the crookstream watched eagerly as the little flotilla of log-boats drew closer. Gripping clubs and spears, they awaited Gruntan Kurdly's signal. Their plan was simple, a straight charge into the shallow, running water would catch the unsuspecting Guosim shrews by surprise. It would be the perfect ambush. At its deepest part, the crookstream ran less than waist high, owing to its heavily pebbled bed.
Gruntan had left his litter, he lay flat on the top of the high rocks, overlooking the scene. He kept up a constant, muttered conversation with himself as he kept track of the logboats. "Haharr, now lemme see, there's two logboats to the right bank, an' two t'the left. Then there's two more in midstream, wid the liddle round boat betwixt 'em. Once they gits level wid this 'ere rock, I'll send my mob out, an' we'll give 'em thud'n'blunder!"
"Er, shouldn't that be blood'n'thunder, Boss?"
Gruntan glared at his scout, Noggo, who with Biklo was lying alongside him. "That's wot I said, izzenit?"
Biklo pointed out the error. "No, Boss, you said thud'n'blunder, not blood'n'thunder."
Gruntan grabbed both scouts' ears and banged their
140
heads together. "Avast there, y'swabs, wot sounds better, blood'n'thunder, or thud'n'blunder, eh?"
Noggo blinked hard, trying to uncross his eyes. "Thud'n'blunder, Boss, I likes the sound o' that!"
Gruntan tugged their ears roughly before releasing them. "Aharr, matey, an' so do I. Blubber thrunder it is then!"
Both scouts edged out of his reach, saluting. "Aye aye, Boss, blutter thrumble, or wotever ye say!"
Maudie was in one of the midstream boats, she looked across to Luglug in the other. The shrew chieftain was scanning both banks keenly. "Those rascals ain't much good at hidin', miss, I kin see 'em crouchin' in the rocks both sides of us."
The haremaid allowed her paws to stray near the bow and arrows lying close to her. "Yes, I've spotted the blighters, too, they're all painted up like a dellful of bloomin' daisies. Not the best idea if you don't want to be jolly well seen, is it? So, what d'you say, old Lugathing, we know they're there, an' they know we're here. Shall we open up the ball?" She signalled Rigril and Teagle, who were holding the coracle, filled with shrewbabes, between both logboats. "Right, off y'go chaps, give them paddles a good whack, an' don't stop for anythin'. Good luck!"
Then things developed swiftly. The coracle shot off, with the babes squealing lustily as spray cascaded around them. Luglug roared to the four logboats skirting the banks. "Logalogalogaloooooog!"
They began launching showers of slingstones at the rats in the rocks.
Gruntan Kurdly sprang upright on his high perch, bawling furiously, "Don't just sit there, ye block'eads! Chaaaaarge!"
His first officer, Stringle, leapt upright. "Youse 'eard the boss, cummon, charge! Charge! Ch ..."
A well-aimed slingstone cracked him on the jaw. He
141
slumped backward as the other Brownrats came out of hiding. Without somebeast to lead them, they came cautiously forward. Gruntan danced with rage, flinging grass, soil, shale, anything to paw, as he yelled. "Don't stan' around waitin' for winter! Charge, ye fools! Chaaaaarge!"
Now the boats closest to shore began to speed up, half the crews paddling, as the other half continued slinging. Maudie stood erect, a shaft notched upon her bowstring. "Right, give 'em blood'n'vinegar, chaps. Eulaliiiiaaaaaa!" She loosed her arrow, bringing down one of the vermin, who was splashing through the shallows toward them.
The Guosim archers were ruthlessly efficient, they fired off salvos of arrows into the charging rats as they entered the crookstream. Maudie saw Guosim still hurling sling-stones into the forward flank of vermin, as she notched up another arrow, shouting. "One more time, then let's get out of here. Shoot!" Another rain of arrows cut the air, then the Guosim dropped their bows and started paddling energetically.
Now the logboats that had been close to shore came to midstream, ahead of the two carrying Maudie and Luglug. All six craft carried on upstream, their paddlers working hard. The coracle had rounded another bend, and could not be seen, but the logboats were hard in its wake.
Gruntan Kurdly was beside himself with rage, he hopped and danced on top of the big rock, ranting and raving. "Get after 'em, stop 'em, ye blitherin' blisters! I wants those boats, ye sluggardly laggards! Out! Git yore useless bottoms out o' the water an' run along the banks, ye brainless blunderers! 'Tis ten times easier runnin' on land than 'tis in a stream! Are ye deaf, daft or ditherin'? I said git out an' run along the bankside!"
Some of the rats could not hear him clearly amid the stream noise, they continued wading through the water. Gruntan hopped and jumped wildly on top of the high rock, bellowing dreadful oaths and curses. Then he jumped a fraction too far, and disappeared over the edge.
142
Noggo stared in bewilderment at where Gruntan had been. "Huh, where's the boss gone?"