In the gatehouse, Friar Butty was poring through old record books. He indicated a long, narrow corner cupboard. "There's weapons in there, I think, though they've not seen the light o' day in many a season. Help yourselves. Personally, I could have done with your assistance in my researches, but if you three are needed on the walltops then so be it. I'll come up and let you know if I discover anything about the Marlfoxes or their hidden island."
Hardly a breeze stirred the treetops of Mossflower Wood. Grasshoppers chirruped and butterflies winged placidly in the shimmering midday heat on the western plains and flatlands. Beneath Dann's footpaws the broad sandstone walkway was pleasantly warm as he paced back to the threshold from the east walltop. The young squirrel had outfitted himself with a long spear and a dented copper helmet, which he had dusted off and polished. Song had found something that fitted her paw as if it were made for her: a short solid stick, with a ball of green stone mounted on one end. She twirled it skillfully, feeling its balance as she returned from her patrol of the south battlements. Dippler was waiting at the threshold for them. The young shrew looked comical. He had found a chain-mail tunic and a crested helmet complete with visor, and was practically staggering under their weight. Beside his shrew rapier Dippler carried an immense halberd, the heavy long-poled weapon that is both spear and battle-ax combined. He threw up a clanking salute at his friends. "Anythin' to report, mates?"
Dann took off his helmet and mopped his brow. "Whew! All I've got t'report is that 'tis roastin' under this helmet. Aren't you hot under that lot, Dipp?"
Dippler was, but he would not admit it. "Oh no, matey, I'm just fine, fine!"
Song could not resist laughing at the small overdressed shrew. "Hahaha! There's a little cloud o' steam comin' from under your helmet, Dipp. Are you cookin' a stew in there?"
Dann joined in the laughter. Dippler gave them both a haughty glare from beneath his rusty visor and clanked off, calling back, "Laugh all y'like, outfits like this'n have saved many a warrior's life. Hi! Who goes there, friend or foebeast?"
Sister Sloey clambered up the gatehouse wallsteps, lugging a basket covered with a white cloth. She snorted at the challenge. "Foebeast, indeed! Do I look like a foebeast? Cregga and Brother Melilot decided that you guards had best take lunch up here on the walltops. Here, take this basket, Song, my paws are old'n'tired."
The three friends felt very grown-up and privileged to have lunch sent out to them as they spread the cloth and laid out the food. Dippler even removed his helmet.
"Well, this's the stuff to give the troops. Good ole Melilot! That dandelion an' burdock cordial looks nice'n' cool. Pour me a beaker, Dann. Look at this, mush-room'n'celery turnover, leek pasty, apple'n'blackberry crumble an' a bowl of nutcream. They certainly know 'ow t'feed us wallguards at this Abbey, mates!"
Friar Butty joined them, carrying a big ancient volume. "Dearie me, Song, I wish you'd have a word with that grandma of yours. She's turned my gatehouse into a dormitory, and she and Nutwing have taken to coming there for their afternoon nap. Between them they've driven me out with their snoring and snuffling!"
Song poured the old squirrel a beaker of cordial. "Never mind, fresh air's better for you than a dusty old gatehouse, Friar. What's that book you've brought up here?"
The Redwall Recorder opened the volume at a place he had marked. "This is a chronicle from the time of Abbess Vale. I couldn't even begin to guess how many long seasons ago it was written, but it seems that two Redwallers, a squirrel named Samkim and a mole called Arula, actually found the great inland lake and knew of the lost island."
Dann cut himself a slice of pasty. "Is there anything in the book about Marlfoxes?"
Friar Butty flicked a few pages, indicating the state of them. "I wouldn't know, Dann. Somebeast left this volume outdoors and open in the rain during bygone seasons. The chapters that are of interest to us have been ruined by water. Parchment's flaked and the ink has run'tis a real mess."
Dippler pawed through the spoiled pages. "Bit of a shame, Friar mate. So you didn't find out anythin'?"
Butty stared pensively at the book. "Maybe not about the foxes, but I think there's directions to the lake. Bit of a puzzle, though."
Song was intrigued. She loved nothing better than solving mysteries. "Here, let's all take a close look at it. We've eight sharp eyes and four good brains between us. Friar Butty, get ready with your pen an' parchment to record whatever we find!"
In Cavern Hole a desperate plan, calling for deception and daring, was being outlined by Janglur Swifteye. The squirrel warrior drew a square on the tabletop with charcoal. "This is the outer walls, this mark here's the main gate. Tonight we meet the foxes and water rats outside at the southwest corner by the path. Make no mistake, mates, they'll come in forcewell armed, too. Show 'em one sign o' weakness an' we'll all be slain!"
Cregga's blind eyes seemed to stare straight at him. "You're right, of course, Janglur. Treachery is the pawmark of foxes and vermin. So what do you propose we do?"
The squirrel's hooded eyes flicked idly around the table. "We take everybeast who can wield a weapon. Remember I said to the fox this mornin' that we'd bring a selection of valuables to trade for liddle Dwopple. Well, we'll be carryin' four or five bundles, though only one'll contain trinkets. The rest will be bundles of weapons. Me an' Rusvul will open the bundle o' trinkets an' when we gives the word you'll all pull out the arms an' attack. Me an' Rusvul will snatch Dwopple an' pass 'im to Cregga, she'll protect 'im. Log a Log, some o' yore Guosim shrews will be with us, but as soon as it goes dark tonight, I wants you t'take half yore tribe out quiet like. Go straight out onto the flatlands an' sweep back so that yore well below the Abbey to the south. Then get in the fields an' woodland fringe. When you see the attack's started I want you to charge their rear an' take 'em by surprise."
Tragglo Cellarhog scratched his headspikes. "But why, Janglur? If we get the babe back, wot's the point o' fightin' further? We'd be best gettin' back inside o' the Abbey quick an' safe as possible. Why stay an' fight with 'em?"
Murmurs of agreement with Tragglo's reasoning came from all around the table. Janglur sighed and tossed down his charcoal stick. "Tell 'em why, Rusvul."
Rusvul Reguba pounded the tabletop slowly as he spoke, as if driving every word home. "Because they'll slaughter us if we don't get 'em first! To fight vermin you gotta think the same way they do. If they lose the babe an' don't git no ransom fer 'im, then believe me, they won't just pack up an' go away. Oh no, mates, they'll be out fer revenge on Redwall, an' they won't rest till they gets it!"
Rusvul's paw rested on the table. Skipper's closed over it. "He's right. Take my affidavit on it, mates!"
Cregga Badgermum nodded her huge striped head. "It's a perilous plan, but I trust our warriors. All in favor say aye."
Every creature in Cavern Hole gave their answer without hesitation.
"Aye!"
Mokkan had one hundred and ninety water rats and five other Marlfoxes under his command, and he planned to use them well. They sat about on the creek bank as he issued final orders.
"You all know what to do. Anybeast who does not do it right answers to me. We move out at twilight. Rest now, but see that your weapons are attended to, make sure those blades are sharp and ready to serve the High Queen's brood. Ascrod, Vannan, which two do you need?"
Ascrod sought out the two they wanted. "Dakkle and Beelu, you will accompany me and my sister."
The two rats in question saluted. Mokkan went and sat next to Gelltor, who was changing the dressing on his shoulder. "How goes it with your wound now, brother?"
Gelltor bit his lip as he peeled off a dockleaf that had stuck to the fur around his injury. "None the better for your asking!"