Mokkan sat down by the fire with agonizing slowness, biting his lip. "Aye, brother, you were right, I was the fool. Now I am sorely wounded and unfit to lead. Leave a few good rats here with me so that we may guard your plunder. I need rest, I may never walk again with these injuries. Split our forces up between the four of you and take vengeance upon those Redwall scum. Go quickly, before they become confident and begin combing the woodlands for our blood. Surround Redwall Abbey, kill them one by one, with the cunning that is the pawmark of a Marlfox. Snipe at them, starve them by keeping them penned up inside their Abbey, make them prisoners inside their own home!"
Gelltor's eyes lit up, fired by plans of conquest. "We'll besiege them until they crawl out begging to be spared! Then I'll execute the one that wounded me and we'll take revenge on the squirrel Janglur for Ziral's death. Those whom we spare can be dragged back to our island in chains, to serve us!"
Mokkan clasped his brother's paw with feigned fervor. "Ah, ever the wise warrior, Gelltor. But you must hurry and set up your siege while they are unaware of your brilliant plan!"
Within a short time the army was ready to march again, each of the Marlfoxes commanding twoscore water rats apiece, while Mokkan stayed behind to recover and protect the tapestry with a guard comprising the thirteen remaining rats. Mokkan lay back as if he had fainted away, listening keenly to Vannan murmuring instructions to the water rat Beelu. "I leave you here to guard our prize with your life. If Mokkan recovers and tries anything odd, you must hide the tapestry and make your way to Redwall, where you will report to me only!" As the army marched out of camp, Mokkan turned on his side, chuckling under his breath. "Never trust a vixen."
It was close to noontide when Song called a halt at a shady glade in the Mossflower depths. "This looks like a good spot for our lunch. There's some fat juicy berries on those blackberry brambles round the dead oak."
Dippler unshouldered the pack he had loaded from the kitchens. "Lunch? What 'appened to brekkfist, miss? An' jus' one other thing, when d'we sleep? Last time I closed me lids was when I was knocked unconscious. We missed a full night's shut-eye, y'know!"
Song threw her haversack down and began picking blackberries. "Oh, give your little face a rest, Dipp, stop moaning!"
Dann took off his sword and foodpack and sat down gratefully. "Dipp's not moanin', Song, he's arguing. Guosim shrews aren't happy unless they've got something to argue about, right, Dipp?"
The young shrew opened his haversack, fishing out three of Brother Melilot's newbaked scones and a slab of cheese, which he cut into three pieces with his rapier. "I'm not arguin' or moanin'. It's called debatin'. That's 'ow us Guosim get t'be so wise, by debatin'."
Song aimed a berry at him, but Dippler ducked it. "You greedy little hog, I notice you've given yourself the biggest slice o' cheese an' the largest scone!"
Dippler grinned, popping the blackberry Song had thrown into his mouth. "But I need extra vittles, so I can grow big'n'strong'n'stronger, like you two. If I gave you the big bits then you'd both grow bigger'n'stronger an' I'd be liddle'n'thin!"
Song prodded his small round stomach as she passed. "Thin, huh? You're about as thin as a hedgehog who's been locked in a larder for two seasons!"
Dann opened a flask of pennycloud cordial. "Will you two pack in debatin' an' let me have lunch in peace?"
Song watched Dippler split open his scone. He packed the inside with blackberries, closed it and bit into the whole thing so enthusiastically that juice squirted out from either side.
Dann flicked drops of it from his nose. "You greedy savage, you'll never grow any taller, just rounder an' fatter. Don't you Guosim have any table manners?"
Dippler shrugged as he crammed cheese into his mouth. "Mm mm. Course we don't, 'cos Guosim never use tables. How'd y'get a table on a logboat? We got shrew manners, though."
Song wiped her lips daintily on a dockleaf. "And what, pray are shrew manners?"
Dippler glugged down cordial to clear his voice. "Simple, 'tis one o' the first things a shrewbabe learns. Listen.
"If you eat too much you'll sink the boat,
Burst yore boots an' split yore coat,
Just scoff enough so you stay afloat,
'Tis manners, good manners!
If you pinch the vittles from another's plate,
Wait till he's lookin' the other way, mate,
An' when fish are bitin', don't eat the bait,
'Tis manners, good manners!
If yore a shrew o' the Guosim clan,
You must be sure to think of a plan,
To share yore matey's pudden or flan,
'Tis manners, good manners!
Remember to chew everythin' in sight,
If it don't bite back, then get first bite,
An' always take a basinful to bed each night,
'Tis manners, good manners!"
Song was chuckling so hard she nearly choked on a bite of scone. Dann sent Dippler sprawling with a playful shove. "Away, you rogue, your mother never taught you that lot!"
Dippler stole a piece of Song's cheese as he patted her back to restore her breath. He winked cheekily at Dann. "I don't dispute that, mate, I made it up meself!"
"Ssshh! What's that? Get down!"
At Dann's urgent whisper the three friends dropped down behind the fallen oak trunk. There they stayed, silent and motionless, for several moments, after which Song stood up slowly. "What was it you heard, Dann?"
The young squirrel rose, turning his head this way and that as he tried to pick up a trace of the sound he had heard. "I don't know, I heard something, but 'tis gone now."
Not much farther out from where the three were sitting, Gelltor, Predak, Ascrod and Vannan passed with the army of water rats, traveling in the opposite direction, toward Redwall Abbey, to begin their assault.
Dippler finished up the remains of any food his friends had not eaten. Dann shouldered his pack and sword, weighing up the woodland surrounding them. "Which way now, Song?"
The young squirrelmaid walked to the east end of the glade where they had camped. Using the knowledge her father had passed on during their wanderings, she cast about carefully. "This way, I think. The ferns have been disturbed, see, one or two are brokengrass looks flattened too. Ha! Look at this."
Hanging from a broken hornbeam spur was a strand of red thread. Dippler and Dann studied it as Song voiced her thoughts. "That's from the tapestry. At a guess I'd say it was being carried shoulder high by two or more creatures. See here amid the grass, one of them stumbled on this blackberry creeper and narrowly missed walking into the hornbeam tree, but the heavy roll of tapestry they were carrying snagged on that broken branch. They've gone this way."
Dippler wrapped the thread around his paw. "Stupid vermin, they're leavin' a trail a blind moth could follow!"
Dann pressed forward, calling back to the shrew. "Marlfoxes aren't stupid, Dipp. Y'must remember that they were running with a weighty object, it was still dark, an' maybe they thought Redwallers might give chase. Stands t'reason they'd want to put as much space between themselves an' the Abbey as possible."
Dippler pushed the bushes aside roughly. "Murderin' thieves. They won't get away from me, matey!"
Song cautioned her friends. "I suggest from now on that we keep our voices down, don't talk unless 'tis necessary, an' tread quietly. Best not leave a trail goodness knows who might follow it."
The vast woodland was unusually still and silent, even the sporadic birdsong sounding as if it came from far away. Moving quietly eastward through the dense undergrowth, Song and her companions became cautious, realizing that behind the beauty of stately trees and summer-flowering bushes, danger might lurk in the shape of the foebeast.
At Redwall Abbey a brief ceremony had been held over the resting place within the southwest wallcorner. Four shrews, Elachim the Noonvale otter, Nutwing and Log a Log were honored with small gifts, flowers and verses. Friar Butty sighed heavily, wiping his eyes on a spotted kerchief as they walked back to the Abbey, where Deesum and Brother Melilot were preparing lunch. Skipper spoke loud enough for all to hear.