BOOK TWO
“If only they were back here
at Redwall”
16
Late that same afternoon, the vermin gang had been keeping to the woodlands. On Badredd’s orders they followed the path. Stopping for a breather, the little fox sighted Redwall Abbey in the distance, showing above the trees. He scurried out onto the path, pointing and yelling.
“Aharr, there ’tis, mates, the Abbey place! I told ye I’d find it, ’twas me who saw it first!”
As he ran forward, the cutlass, which he had pushed into his belt, tangled in his footpaws, causing him to trip. He lay sprawled on the path, still shouting. “Wait’ll I gets me paws on that magic sword!”
Halfchop sneered. “Look at ’im, willyer, the flamin’ fool. I swear, Flinky, dat stoopid oaf’ll get us all killed!”
The crafty stoat chuckled. “Ah, sure enough, he’s a grand, brave beast. I’d sooner serve under Badredd than Burrad or Skrodd. Those two would have made us march in front, an’ led from the rear. Let the fearless chief run an’ meet the foe. Us pore ould pawsloggers will just keep our heads down an’ follow from a safe distance.”
Crinktail was in agreement with her mate. “Aye, whoever’s inside o’ that place will prob’ly see us comin’ from their walltops. Wot was it that Burrad said, that those Abbey creatures was all peaceable Woodlanders? So we may as well put on a show o’ force. The sight of a vermin gang might make ’em open up those gates to us—providin’ they knows wot’s good for ’em!”
The crew strolled out onto the path, deliberately setting a slow pace, keeping Badredd well ahead of them. Flinky sang a quiet ditty as a warning to his mates. The little fox could not quite hear the words, but he assumed it was some sort of song for marching into battle. He swaggered along, a good half-spearthrow in front, waving the unwieldy cutlass with regained dignity, feeling every inch the great Badredd, commander of a vermin crew. The others followed at a safe distance, sniggering at the words of Flinky’s song.
“When the clouds of arrows fly,
keep yore heads down.
Let the brave ones charge on by,
keep yore heads down.
When the heroes’ blood runs red,
an’ yore scared to raise yore head,
just be glad that you ain’t dead,
keep yore heads down!
Ye won’t win no medals here,
keep yore heads down.
Don’t be fools who know no fear,
keep yore heads down.
We can all lay low an’ sing,
duckin’ spears an’ stones from sling.
Let ’em chuck most anything,
but keep yore heads down!”
Amid smothered giggles and hoots, Slipback and Juppa made disparaging remarks behind their leader’s back.
“Haw haw, lookit the way ’is bottom waggles when ’e puts on a swagger. Looks like two sour apples in a sack!”
“Aye, an’ if’n ’e don’t stop wavin’ that blade around, ’e’ll chop ’is own tail off. Wot d’ye reckon, mate, does that liddle smidge look like a vermin warrior who’d terrify those Abbeybeasts?”
“Maybe they’ll laugh theirselves to death at the sight of ’im. Heeheeheee!”
Flinky gazed up in awe as the impressive red sandstone Abbey loomed closer. He muttered to Rogg and Floggo. “Huh, if Badredd gives the order to charge that place, well, I’ll be chargin’, shore enough. I’ll be runnin’ the other way, like a duck wid its tail on fire!”
The weasel brothers were not much given to merriment, but Flinky’s remark tickled them so much that they guffawed loudly.
Badredd came running back brandishing his cutlass. “Wot’s so funny, eh, can I share the joke?”
Flinky shrugged disarmingly. “Ah now, we wasn’t laughin’ at ye at all. ’Twas just that we’re ’appy for ye. Yore a good chief, an’ soon the magic sword’ll be yores. Ye deserve it fer bein’ a grand ould leader, so ye do. Ain’t that right, mates? Badredd’s the best boss we’ve ever ’ad!”
Half believing Flinky’s flattery, Badredd eyed the gang and nodded approvingly. “Lissen, mates, we could be a good crew if’n we tried. Now wipe the grins offa yore gobs an’ form up in twos. We’ll march straight up to that Abbey an’ put the fear o’ Hellgates into those peaceable bumpkins. Try t’look more like a gang o’ killers. Wave yore weapons about an’ snarl loud, as if yore ready t’do murder!”
Flinky glanced up at the high battlements. Already he saw heads poking up over them in the gathering gloom. Thinking quickly, the stoat slid down into the ditch on the path’s opposite side. He beckoned Badredd. “A nighttime charge might go wrong, Chief. D’ye not think we oughta figger out some kind of ould plan, afore we go rushin’ at a buildin’ that size?”
The little fox turned his attention to the walltops. Lots of heads were beginning to appear there. He climbed down into the ditch, alongside Flinky, knowing that what the stoat said made sense. “Aye, let’s, er, make up a scheme. . . . Everybeast down ’ere!”
The remaining gang members obeyed promptly. Flinky patted Badredd’s back. “Sure, that’s wot I likes about ye, Chief, yore a true fox, a born slayer, but a grand an’ crafty ould planner. Hoho, those creatures in there’ll get the shock o’ their lives when we turns up outside their doorstep tomorrer!”
Badredd was puzzled. “Tomorrer?”
Crinktail caught on, knowing her mate was trying to put off invading Redwall for as long as possible. She backed Flinky up. “Haharr, clever move, Chief. Tomorrer’s the best time t’do it!”
Beyond a straight charge, Badredd had no real plan. He decided to hear Flinky out, knowing the stoat was no fool.
Flinky explained eagerly. “ ’Tis dark now, y’see, an’ we’re in strange territory. The gang can get a good night’s rest down ’ere. When you’ve thought up yore scheme, we’ll be ready fer a fresh start, an’ catch ’em nappin’ at dawn! Now that’s wot I calls a smart move, thought up by a smart fox!”
Unaccustomed to compliments, Badredd enjoyed the feeling of having everybeast waiting on their leader’s word. Flicking his tail round slowly, he stroked it as foxes do when they are pleased. “Right, we rest ’ere, gang, that’s my orders!”
He missed the nudge exchanged between Crinktail and Flinky as they lay down and closed their eyes. Flinky murmured but loud enough to be heard by all. “Ain’t we the lucky ones, havin’ a gangleader like Badredd.”
Starlit darkness had fallen as Abbot Carrul made his way up the north wallsteps onto the ramparts. A frown creased his brow when he saw the throng of Redwallers crowding the parapet.
“Friends, listen to me, please. There’s no need for all of you up here. With vermin about, it’s not safe to stand looking over the battlements. Anybeast who is not required up here, please go down now. Sister Setiva, Sister Portula, will you see those Dibbuns down the stairs, it’s time they were in their beds anyhow.”
Toran and Junty, who had already joined Foremole Dwurl and Brother Weld, were at the northwest wall corner. Carrul hastened to join them. “Is there really a vermin band out there? Where are they now?”
Toran answered reassuringly. “There’s no great army o’ them, Father, I only counted about eight. Might be more to come, but I ain’t spotted ’em yet.”
Junty made way for the Abbot to look between the battlements as Toran pointed. “Look, they’ve lit a small fire, in the ditch, just further up the path there. Wonder wot they’re up to?” A red-gold glow showed from the ditch, where Toran was pointing.
Foremole blinked. “Oi aspeck they’m cooken ee supper.”
The Abbot looked to Toran. “What do you think?”
Thumping his rudder thoughtfully against the wallside, the ottercook speculated. “Well, there’s no way a crew that size could attack Redwall. I think we’d best do nothin’ for the present, Father. But let’s watch every move they make. We’ll post sentries on the walls, just a few who can watch ’em, while keepin’ low. Who can tell—maybe they’re only passin’ by this way. Per’aps they’re bound someplace else. I wish Bragoon an’ Saro would’ve stayed a day or two longer—we could really do with ’em right now!”