Skipper winked. "Aye, with sweet arrowroot sauce."
Bargle grabbed the otter's paw fiercely. "Plum duff'n'sweet arrowroot sauce. Don't say another word, Skip, or me stummick'll perish afore I make it t'the table!"
Each shrew who left the wall was replaced by a relief sentry. Skipper did the rounds of the walltop, whispering words of advice and encouragement. He gave special attention to Friar Butty, who was positioned at the center of the north wall.
"Are ye sure y'can keep yore eyes open all night, Friar? Y'won't drop off t'sleep, will you, sir?"
The old squirrel patted his friend's sturdy paw. "I'll be fine, Skip, you just leave me here. Funny, but I don't feel the least bit sleepy tonight. I couldn't face a night alone in the gatehouse without Nutwing. His snores always lulled me into a slumber. Ah, lackaday, I miss the feathery old rascal."
Skipper looked away and blinked. "So do I, Friar. We all miss 'im."
He was distracted by Florian, waving from the battlements over the south wallgate. Skipper scurried across to the hare. "Keep yore ears down, mister Florian sir, or they'll spot yer."
The hare ducked and seated himself, gesturing over the wall. "Somethin' rather odd goin' on down there. Vermin chaps dashin' back an' forth, carryin' bits'n'pieces an' whatnot."
Skipper crouched, alert. "Bits'n'pieces o' wot, sir?"
"Oh, I dunno, twigs, brush, wood an' what have you. Must be out o' their bally minds. They're dumpin' the stuff in front o' the wallgate an' scamperin' off. What'd they want to do that for?" Florian looked around, but Skipper was gone, rushing along the ramparts and down the wallsteps to the small wicker gate in the center of the south wall.
Janglur and Rusvul were already there. The two warrior squirrels had been carrying out their usual patrol of the inner grounds. Skipper joined them, keeping his voice down to a whisper. "What're those vermin up to, mates?"
Janglur watched the door through half-closed eyes as he replied, "Me'n'Rusvul were passin' here when we smelled vegetable oil and pine resin, then we 'eard those rats pushin' dry brush an' wood up against the door. You know wot that means, Skip?"
The big otter nodded grimly. "Fire. They're goin' to try an' burn their way in 'ere! Janglur, go to the wine cellars. Over the door there you'll see three great longbows an' quivers o' big clothyard shafts. Bring 'em 'ere quick. Rusvul, get Gubbio Foremole an' some of 'is crew, fetch buckets too, start fillin' 'em from the pond. We'll put a spoke in their wheel if they wanna play with fire, mates!"
Chapter 16
Night had fallen along the fast-flowing river. Dippler sat at the water's edge, bathing his footpaws. Dann trotted back and tweaked the shrew's ear lightly. "Come on, Dipp, you can't stop here."
The young Guosim shrew let the cold water flow over his weary paws. "Why not? They've got to rest too, y'knowdon't suppose they could travel far on fast water like this at night, too dangerous."
Song walked back to join them. "He's right, Dann. Perhaps we'd better find someplace where we can take a bite to eat and sleep till dawn."
They continued walking along the riverbank until they found a likely spot. Song was loosing her pack when Dann called to her. "Song, come an' look at this. What d'ye make of it?" He was standing in the shallows, hanging on to the trailing branches of a willow and gazing downriver. Song waded in by him. "See, further down the bank. Looks like firelight t'me."
Song peered at the glow in the far darkness. "Aye, 'tis fire right enough. Dipp said they've got to rest too, maybe it's them. Let's go and take a look. Best go armed!"
Steering back from the bank a bit they stole swiftly through the woodland, Dippler and Dann with drawn swords and Song with her greenstone-topped club. Drawing near to the light, they could make out a warm glow, but no sign of the flames that made it. Careful now, they measured each pace, avoiding dead twigs, dry ferns, or anything that might make a noise and betray their presence to the enemy. Song gripped her weapon tightly, whispering to Dann, "What d'you think, is it them?"
A huge, bushy, brown-furred mouselike creature popped up in front of them and began chattering in a shrill voice. "Ah yiss yiss, it could be them, though t'be shore 'tis not. Why, it's only ourselves an' we're not them, unless by them y'mean us, an' if 'tis ourselves yer after, then we're them yiss yiss!"
The three friends were taken aback. Dann was first to recover. Menacing the creature with his sword, he backed it up to a tree, only to have Dippler jump in and place himself between them. "Leave 'im alone, mate. 'Tis a watervole. They're friendly!" The shrew held both paws out and wiggled his nose in a strange greeting to the newcomer. Grinning cheerily, the watervole returned the salute and continued chattering.
"Oh yiss yiss, an' you'll be one o' the Guosim, knew it as soon as I saw yer spiky little 'ead. Up'n'down, up'n'down this river yore tribe used to go alia time, oh yiss yiss. Don't see many Guosim these seasons though, no no, river's too fast for shrews I think. Whoo! Aren't I the terrible one fer gabbin' though. Yiss yiss, y'can spit in the river an' not make much difference to it, that's wot I always say. Yiss yiss!"
Dippler thrust his chin out aggressively at the watervole. "Who d'ye think yore talkin' to, bush'ead? No river's too fast for a Guosim shrew, an' we should know 'cos we've sailed 'em all!"
Still grinning, the vole rattled on. "Ah well yiss yiss, I see what y'mean, so I do, an' yer a fine figure of a shrew so y'are an' I take back any lie I uttered about yer, yiss yiss, so I do, 'cos an egg in a duck's belly is neither under nor over the water an' that's a fact so 'tis, yiss yiss ..." All through his ceaseless babble, the watervole's eyes were fixed greedily on Song's greenstone stick. He was making her uncomfortable, so she quickly hid it behind her back.
"Excuse me, but could I fit in a word sideways? I'm Song, this is Dann and the shrew's Dippler. We're just looking for someplace to eat and spend the night. We don't wish to stand here and be talked to death, if you'll forgive my saying so."
Springing forward, the watervole began shaking Song's paw vigorously. "Oh yiss yiss, yer well forgiven, missie. I'm called Burble. Me muther had a sense o' humor, y'see, yiss yiss. Food'n'rest, is that all yll be needin'? Well, toiler me, the Riverheads can supply that, y'can be sure as an onion's a sour apple with too many coats, yiss yiss!"
Song had great difficulty extricating her paw from Burble's ceaseless pawshaking, but the moment she did the vole shot off like an arrow. They had to follow him at a headlong run.
Why they could only see the firelight's glow soon became clear. It emanated from a great cave hewn deep into the riverbank slightly above water level. Burble bowed to them as they stood panting outside.
"Ah yiss yiss, 'tis only an ould bit of a hole, but 'tis home to me an' has been to my father an' his father before him an' his father before him an' his father before him and his mmffff!"
A big old gray-furred watervole had come out and clamped a paw over Burble's mouth. He nodded at the newcomers. "Y'know, sometimes us Riverheads say that the riverll stop babblin' before young Burble does. Do you all come in now, an' welcome!"
Inside the cave, there were upward of twelve or more watervoles seated round an enormous fire eating bowls of stew. The old one called to them. "Our Burble's brought some travelers for a bite o' supper, so he has."
A fat, motherly-looking vole in a woven rush apron bobbed a curtsy. "Yiss yiss, so he has, sit ye down an' a thousand welcomes to ye!"
Song touched the greenstick to her forehead in a salute. "And a thousand thanks for your kindness, marm!"
Suddenly all the watervoles threw themselves facedown. Paws outstretched, they set up a wailing din.
"Whooooaaaah! Gorramahooogly! D'Leafwood! D'Leafwood!"
"Did I say something wrong?"