As Pallum turned his head, the Gawtrybe stopped chanting.
"They're standing stock still, the whole crowd of them, not making a move or a sound, just watching us!" Pal lum's voice carried in it the tinge of fear.
Rose could feel countless pairs of wild eyes focused on them. The fur on her nape rose stiffly. "I've a feeling I'm not going to like this game, Martin."
The young mouse held her paw tighter. "Blank it from your mind, Rose. Think of Noonvale."
Reaching the first ledges, they helped one another up, ready to run should the Gawtrybe show any sign of pursuit. Sandy rock crumbled beneath their paws and slivering pieces of shale slid away down the mountainside. Two more small ledges to go. Martin dug his sword into a crack to aid his progress, leaning over the ledge and helping Rose to haul Grumm up. Pallum pushed the mole from behind.
Grumm scrabbled his way on to the ledge, not daring to look down at the crowd far below, still standing silent and waiting. "Oi doant moind unnergrounds but oi bain't too fond of oop yurr!"
Pallum nearly tripped and fell backwards on the final ledge. He was windmilling his paws as he teetered perilously at its rim. Acting quickly, Rose swung the food pack. The hedgehog caught the shoulderstrap, and she hauled him back to the safety of the ledge.
Now the Gawtrybe were beginning to chant and dance again, eager to be on the chase. The four friends stood on the ledge which Martin had nominated, watching them. Martin took the pack from Rose and shouldered it.
"Are we ready?"
They nodded. Pallum spat on his paws and rubbed them together.
"Right, Martin. Give them the signal!"
The young mouse stared down at the dancing hordes below. "Look at them, mad, cruel beasts, playing games with the lives of other creatures. I wouldn't waste my breath shouting signals to the scum.
Let them guess whether or not the game has begun!"
The four friends took off as fast as they could, up the mountainside to the cave high above.
It took several seconds for the dancing, yelling mob to realize they had been cheated, Martin had not shouted the signal for them to start chasing. With a concerted howl of rage, the masses of squirrels dashed for the mountain, waving their axes. From the heights the four friends paused to glance down. Martin had been right: Gawtrybe squirrels were strong and fleet of paw. They were climbing at an amazing rate, every one agile and swift.
The game for the lives of the travellers had really begun!
BOOK THREE
The Battle of Marshank
28
Brome and Keyla, together with Felldoh and the Rambling Rosehip Players, were the heroes of the hour. The thirty or so slaves who had escaped from Marshank with their aid cheered wildly, towing them round and round the camp on their cart. Being actors, the Rosehip company enjoyed applause in any form.
Ballaw took outrageously leggy bows, clapping his ears together comically. "Thank you dear creatures, thank you one and all!"
Rowanoak smiled benevolently, waving a huge paw. "Oh, you shouldn't really, it was nothing!"
Buckler, with one paw bound up against his injured shoulder in a sling, bobbed his furry head up and down. "Thankee, thankee. Oi'H be roight as rain in a few days!"
The rest of the company took their adulation gracefully, with the exception of Celandine, who fluttered her eyelashes constantly and blew outrageously sloppy kisses. "Wasn't I, marvellous, dears? Yd like to thank the rest of the troupe and all the other little creatures who helped me!"
Brome was up on the cart with the rest, but Felldoh was unused to such admiration. He wandered off alone from the camp, enjoying the warm evening as he savored the heady feeling of freedom.
Back at camp, the liberated slaves were marvelling at the ample larder kept by the troupe. A mouse called Purslane led her husband, Groot, and their baby, Fuffle, through an inventory of the contents.
"Look, Groot, dried fruits and maplecream. How many seasons since we tasted maplecream, I can't remember. Oh my! Will you smell these violet crystals and candied mintleaves!"
Groot opened a box, shaking his head fondly. "Nuts preserved in honey, chestnuts, beechnuts and acorns! D'you recall when you used to do them in late autumn, dear?"
Purslane brushed away a tear as she laughed. "Do I? You were the one who kept eating "the nuts and licking the honey ladle. You were like a great babe. Fuffle, put those nuts down, they don't belong to us!"
The baby Fuffle gurgled around a mouthful of nuts. "Tasters nishe Fuffle likesum!"
Purslane was prising the nuts loose from his little paws when Rowanoak, who had deserted the victory parade, swept Fuffle up in a huge paw. She smiled fondly. "You eat as many as you like, little un.
What is ours is yours."
Purslane and her husband thanked the badger profusely, but Rowanoak would hear none of it.
"Now that's enough of that, good creatures. Purslane, did I hear Groot saying that you could preserve nuts?"
Purslane gazed at the huge larder and its contents, longingly.
"Preserve nuts? I could cook, bake, stew, make soups, salads, flans, cakes, tarts, trifles ..."
Rowanoak held up a paw. "Trifles! That's one thing the Rosehip Players can't do, make a decent trifle. My dear, you don't know how many seasons I have dreamed of trifle. But listen, don't stand there telling me how good a cook you are. Why not get cracking and make a victory feast? I imagine there are others from Marshank who'd love to try their kitchen skills again."
Purslane, Geum, Ferndew and a hedgehog goodwife called Burrwen washed their paws and went to work. Night fell over the Rosehips'
camp. The fires blazed merrily and old songs were brought forth to sing, as everybeast helped with the preparation of a great liberation meal. The young mouse Hoopoe, wearing a ridiculous hat woven from sedge grass, led the singing, conducting with a long onion shoot.
"Hey, give me cake and bring me ale,
And pudding ripe with plums,
Some cider, dear, so cool and clear,
To swill round teeth and gums,
Some round and golden mellow cheese,
And light brown nutbread, if you please,
With honey made by happy bees,
And I will be contented.
O fie the creature with long face
Who nibbles small and can't keep pace
With tartlets filled full berryfruit
And yellow meadowcream to boot,
Or soup with pepper and hotroot,
And burdock ale to quench it.
Oh, eat up, neighbour, drink up, friend,
May good fortune have no end.
Success to all that you intend,
And leave the pots till morning!"
The feast was one to remember, particularly since the freed slaves had young ones who had never attended a banquet, or even seen some of the dishes, let alone tasted them.
Old Geum sniffed as she passed Rowanoak a farl of hot barley bread filled with brown onion gravy and mashed turnip. "Just look at that little un, dipping strawberry tart into his soup. It's not right!"
The baby Fuffle was seated on Rowanoak's lap, enjoying himself immensely. The badger chuckled as she stroked his ears. "If it tastes nice to him and he likes it, then where's the harm? You eat up, you little rogue."
The two mice Yarrow and Hoopoe had purple lips and noses from drinking blackberry cordial, and yellow meadowcream tipped their ears, from where they had both been eating the same pudding out of a basin without using spoons or paws.
Celandine wiped her mouth daintily on a flimsy kerchief. "Oh goodness me, I don't think I can manage another bite!"
Ballaw eyed her plate, heaped high with summer salad and cheese.
"I was just saying to Kastern and Gauchee the other day that you're lookin' a touch plump these days, m' gel, wot!"
The vain pretty squirrel pushed herself away from the food. "Am I really? Tell the truth, Ballaw. I'd hate to be plump!"
Ballaw pulled her plate across and emptied it reflectively, speaking between bites. "Well, er, chomp chomp, a touch more exercise, bit of firewood choppin', munch munch, and you'll be back to your former lovely slim self, m' dear, grumpff grumpff. I wouldn't worry too much."