A silence fell over the assembled Highbeasts. Martin lifted the sword and with two swift strokes freed Rose of her hobbling log.
Striding purposefully over to Pallum and Grumm, he slashed through the kelps that bound them to the logs. Pallum could not remember being without the great log impeding his footpaws. He held the broken kelp ends and wept silently.
Martin faced the Queen of the pigmy shrews eye to eye. "We want free!"
The silence on the shore intensified as Amballa drew herself up regally, her fierce little eyes burning into Martin's. "Ballamum saythis.
Yougo allfree!"
The ranks of the Highbeast tribe parted to let the four friends pass through. They walked in silence, holding the slashed kelp ends lest they tripped.
Suddenly Dinjer ran out in front of Martin, swinging a stick. He struck the young mouse, hard as he could. Martin winced as he took the blow full across the face. Dinjer was in a foul temper, striking and screaming as his tantrum grew.
"Biggamouse kickamee. Killslay biggamouse. He kick amee Dinjer!"
Instantly Amballa was between the two. She grabbed Dinjer, snapped the stick and threw it away, then seizing her son by his tail she began spanking him hard with her free paw.
"Martinmouse rightsay you stupid ... little ... beast!"
The loud cheers of the pigmy shrews, coupled with Dinjer's anguished wails, cut through the sunlit morning as the four friends strolled free along the beach, away from pigmy shrews and captivity.
Grumm smiled fondly. "Burr, tha' sound be loik music to moi ears!"
14
While Cap'n Tramun Clogg took a party around the headland to see what he could salvage of his ship, Bad rang attended to other matters.
Druwp the bankvole stood before the Tyrant in his longhouse.
Badrang had his aides, Gurrad and Hisk, bring food for the spy. Roast sea bird, baked fish, new bread and a flagon of damson wine were placed in front of Druwp, but the treacherous creature had suddenly lost his appetite. He eyed the long thin whipping rods held by Gurrad and Hisk, completely overawed in the presence of the mighty Badrang.
The bankvole had told them all he knew, but Badrang was not satisfied. Danger radiated from the stoat's eyes. He was in an unpredictable mood.
"Let me get this straight, Druwp. You knew that the prisoners were going to escape from the prison pit, but you don't know how they did it. You know the ringleaders of the slave resistance and you know they have buried weapons, but you don't know what their plans are. Don't play me for a fool, bankvole. Give me some good hard information that I can act upon."
Druwp swallowed hard, his mouth dry as a bone. "I know exactly where the weapons are buried, Sire."
Badrang smiled at Hisk and Gurrad. Coming swiftly out of his chair, he patted Druwp's back, feeling the spy flinch beneath his touch.
"Good, good. That's what I want to hear. Tell me exactly where they are."
"Lord, they are inside the slave compound, buried in the earth beneath the sleeping pallet of an otter called Tullgrew. I watched her digging the hole. She did not know I saw her."
Badrang turned to his aides. "Come on, let's go and take a look. You have done well, Druwp. From now on you will be my eyes and ears in the ranks of the slaves. Sit down, eat, drink and be easy."
When Badrang and his cronies had left the longhouse Druwp felt his confidence returning, his appetite too. Seating himself at the table, he poured a large beaker of wine and tore off a leg from the roast sea bird. The bread smelled good and fresh as he stuffed it hungrily into his mouth. Quaffing damson wine and setting his teeth into the hot meat, Druwp allowed himself a rare smile. Let the others be helpful and noble to each other. He was in the business of self preservation.
The slaves had lain idle since the hostilities with Clogg, but they knew it would not last. Badrang would soon have them toiling under the lash. The afternoon was warm and lazy with hardly a breeze. They made the most of it, lying about in the sun.
A mouse called Yarrow wandered over to the palisade and peered through a gap. "Barkjon! Badrang is comin' this way with Gurrad an'
Hisk."
The old squirrel was instantly at his side. "Yes, I see them. I wonder what they want?"
Badrang stood in the center of the compound, a knowing smile hovering round his lips. The slaves shuffled nervously as Hisk and Gurrad wandered amongst them, flicking the long thin rods. The Tyrant's voice was soft, almost friendly, as he addressed his captives.
"Well, you've had a nice easy few days, but it'll be back to work in the morning. Stand by your beds while we take a head count."
They hurried to obey, giving Hisk and Gurrad's rods a wide berth.
An eerie silence settled over the whole place as the two Captains walked around the nervous creatures standing by their pitiful sacks of straw which served as beds. Gurrad took one side, Hisk the other, tapping their canes against each animal's chest as they counted.
Hillgorse the old hedgehog stood in front of a very young mouse called Hoopoe. As Gurrad's cane snaked out to touch the youngster, Hillgorse batted it aside with his paw. He spoke out, his voice bold and enquiring. "What's all this about? What do you want of us?"
"Hillgorse, is that your name?" The Tyrant's voice was still deceptively friendly. "That's what they call me."
"Hmm, I thought so. Let me see now, which one of you is Barkjon?"
Felldoh's father took a pace forward. "I am Barkjon."
Badrang's eyes roved this way and that. "Keyla, is there a young otter named Keyla?" "Aye, that's me!" Keyla held up a paw. Badrang stared at the otter a moment. "Good, good. You can tell me which one is Tullgrew. Another otter, like yourself."
Keyla exchanged glances with Barkjon and Hillgorse before replying. "Tullgrew? There's no Tullgrew here." Badrang's voice hardened. "Lie to me and you'll die, all three of you. Who is Tullgrew?
"
The otter could not see her friends endangered. She held up her paw. "My name is Tullgrew."
Badrang strode across to her and kicked the sack of bedding grass.
"Move that and start digging."
Slowly Tullgrew did as she was bid. The noon sun beat down on the compound. A small cloud of dust arose where the otter toiled away, digging the sandy clayish ground with both paws. Barkjon looked across to Hillgorse. Their eyes were sad with resignation.
Tullgrew dug until she was standing in a pit half her own height.
Sweat ran down into her eyes, hiding t1 .e look of puzzlement in them.
Badrang sensed something was amiss. "Gurrad, Hisk! Throw that otter out of the hole and take over!"
The two Captains scrambled to obey. Putting their rods aside, they heaved Tullgrew out of the excavation and began digging fast and hard under the Tyrant's hot angry eyes. All their questing paws found was earth and more earth.
They were almost at head height when Badrang snapped at them,
"Get out of it, fools. Can't you see there's nothing there?"
As they pulled themselves out, Gurrad, the shorter of the two, slipped and fell back into the hole. There was an audible snigger among the slaves. Badrang whirled round to face them. "We'll see how long you laugh doing double workloads tomorrow!"
Hisk helped the rat out and they padded warily behind the Tyrant as he swept out of the compound, his cloak billowing darkly against the noonday brightness. Tullgrew spread her dusty paws wide. "What happened to the weapons? They weren't there."
"By the seasons! I wonder where they went." Keyla's face was the picture of innocence.
Barkjon waggled a paw under the otter's nose. "You know, you young rascal!"
Keyla smiled mischievously. "Aye, I know, but Druwp doesn't. He watched Tullgrew bury them, and I watched him. When he fell asleep, I gently pulled Tullgrew and her bedding to one side. She was asleep too, weary after all that digging. So I just dug the weapons up and found a new hiding place for them."
Tullgrew shook her head in amazement. "But where did you put them, Keyla?"