They slumped down wearily beneath a sycamore and a beech. A slithering nearby caused Martin to jump up. Two long slowworms snaked away hissing noisily, disturbed from their rest. The creatures made no move to attack, but Martin stood with short sword drawn watching them slither down the side of the rise toward the marshes.
Pallum began collecting dry firewood and digging a shallow pit.
"It's all right, they're only slowworms. Evil looking reptiles, they do lojs of hissing but they can't really harm you. Right, Grumm, what'll it be? Cucumber sandwiches or one scone apiece?"
The mole was busy digging out some mushrooms he had found. He looked up, shaking soil from his snout energetically. "Zoop, we'm 'aven zoop! Aye, an' oi'll make a pudden too, wi' some apple an' blackberries growen over yonder."
Night fell warm and mild, with the small fire burning red as they sat around it, well fed and satisfied with their day's progress.
"Tut tut, Mr. Grumm the Growler," Rose teased Grumm. "If I were you I'd put half that pudding away for the morrow. You've eaten far too much already and it's way past your bedtime!"
The mole looked up from a ladleful of pudding and snorted, "Oi should've left you'm be'oind wi' they Mirk dops, mizzy. Teach you'm some manners, hurr!"
They watched a full moon move silently from behind pillowy night cloud formations, it hung in the sky like a still, new polished silver coin.
The two slowworms had returned. With them was a band of lizards twoscore strong. Their tongues slid silently in and out, filmy eyes blinking constantly against the dry warmth of the night. The two slowworms indicated where the sleeping travellers lay by thrusting their heads forward and hissing. The lizard leader, a great red frilled reptile, nodded his head slowly as he watched the glow from the red embers of the fire dying lower. Soon the fire would be cold and the four travellers deep in sleep. The lizards waited patiently, watching their leader, waiting for him to move.
20
It was fully dawn when the escaped slaves and the Rambling Rosehip Players made their way back to the hide out on the southern cliffs. Puffing and panting, they threw themselves down on the grass and lay in the cool morning breeze. Gauchee came later than the rest.
She had been watching their backtrack, covering the cart marks and keeping a wary eye peeled for pursuers. The mouse sat with her back to the cart.
"Nobeast following us, they must still be busy righting among each other."
Ballaw flopped his long ears thoughtfully from side to side. "Maybe so, but they'll try and find us. I can't imagine old Badthingy lettin' half his slaves an' us off that lightly. We'd be best postin' a guard. I'll take first watch, me an' this jolly lookin' young mousey feller here. What's your name, sir?"
"They call me Juniper."
"Righto, Juno, me old nipper, you an' me are first guard."
Rowanoak blew tenderly on her paws. "Ooh, that's better! This dashing about all night doesn't suit me any more. Not as young as I used to be. Kastern, what are you up to this morning?"
"Well, there's lot of new mouths to feed," the sensible young mousemaid explained, "so I'm going to organize a forage party, see what we can find to swell our larder out a bit. I'll take some of our new companions when they've had a rest and a bite of breakfast."
Rowanoak liked to keep her paw on the pulse of activities in camp.
She sat down and began massaging her footpaws.
"Hmm, good idea. Who's on cooking duties this morning?"
Trefoil wiped wheat flour from her paws on a dock leaf. "It looks like it's me again. I did it yesterday too. That Celandine was supposed to take her turn today, but she's probably off fluttering her pretty eyelashes at the new arrivals and enchanting them all."
"Oh, is she. Well, I'm not having any of that!" Rowanoak stood up decisively. "There are no shirkers in this troupe, everybeast pulls their weight. Where is she? Celandine! Celandine, it's no use hiding, missy.
I want a word with you, m'lady!"
Rowanoak searched the camp several times before she began to get worried. Nobeast had seen the pretty squirrelmaid.
Ballaw left sentry duty a moment to call an assembly.
"Attention please. Has anyone seen Celandine?"
Barkjon held a healing poultice of herbs to his injured shoulder.
The wound was not as serious as it had appeared the previous night.
Felldoh held his father's head upright as Brome fed him soup from a scallop shell.
"Drink up, sir. This is made from green nettles and I don't know what, supposed to help recovery."
The old squirrel licked his lips as he finished the soup. "It tastes very nice. What's going on over there, some sort of meeting?"
"It's a young squirrelmaid, one of the company she's missing."
Barkjon sat up a bit, resting his back against his son's paws. With his eyes half closed he nodded slowly. "I remember now. Was she an extremely pretty creature?"
Brome put aside the empty shell. "Oh yes, d'you recall her?"
"Indeed I do. Though I was only half conscious, I remember seeing her face over the back of the cart as she pushed. I thought she was the nicest looking squirrel I had ever seen. I must have dozed off awhile, because when I woke she wasn't there any more. Perhaps she tripped and fell."
"Aye." Brome nodded, recalling the wild dash from Marshank. "We were going so fast that nobeast would have noticed. She's either lost or captured by now."
Felldoh laid his father down carefully. "If she's lost I'll find her."
Barkjon struggled to get up. "But what if she's captured, son?"
"Then I'll free her, or die trying!" Felldoh's strong face radiated anger and hatred. He strode off, leaving Brome and Barkjon gazing after him.
The old squirrel shook his head. "Let him go, Brome. There is a great rage in my son against all that Marshank stands for. You were only there a short while, he has spent most of his life as a slave. I know how he feels."
Soon the news was all over the camp that Celandine was either lost or captured. Ballaw posted Buckler on guard with Juniper. He conferred with Rowanoak awhile, then they both went to talk with Felldoh.
The squirrel was sitting by the fire. At his side lay a pile of short heavy driftwood lances. He was hardening their points to needle sharpness by burning and rubbing them on a rock. Felldoh was intent on his work and he did not even bother to look up as the hare and badger approached.
"What ho, treejumper. Looks like you're armin' yourself up to start a one beast war there, wot?"
Felldoh continued sharpening the short lances as he replied,
"Whatever it takes, I've got scores to settle at Marshank."
Rowanoak squatted alongside Him. "Need any help, Felldoh?"
He pulled another lance from the fire and began grinding it to a point on the rock. "It's not your fight. I got your troupe into this, and it's time I did a bit myself without endangering others."
Rowanoak nodded understandingly, realizing Felldoh was in no mood to be argued with. She watched him awhile before picking up one of the lances and weighing it in her paw. "How far can you throw one of these things?"
Felldoh took the lance and stood up. "Far enough. My muscles are stronger than most after seasons working in Badrang's rock quarry."
He threw the lance from the cliff top. It sailed out over the beach a fair distance before burying itself point first in the sand.
"Not bad at all." Rowanoak winked at the hare. "Ballaw and I can throw a short lance twice that distance."
"I'd like to see you try!" Felldoh laughed humor lessly.
Ballaw sought around until he came up with a piece of driftwood not quite as long as the lances Felldoh was making. Taking a knife, he cut a deep notch across one end of the wood, then hefted it and made several throwing motions. A few more adjustments to the wood with his knife and Ballaw nodded with satisfaction.
"That's about right, old chap. Pass me a javelin any one'll do."
Felldoh selected one of the short heavy javelins and gave it to Ballaw. The hare laid the javelin flat along his piece of wood, point forward and the other end resting against the notch he had cut. With the weapon lying flat on the wood against the notch, he drew back his arm, took a short hopskip and flung out, holding on to the wood. The javelin soared away, passing Felldoh's weapon on the beach, travelling onward and finally splashing down into the water on the tideline, almost out of sight. Felldoh gasped as Ballaw gave him the piece of wood.