For a moment Doogy raised his eyes to the sky, as if expecting to see the vermin there. Then the whole thing dawned upon him. “Och, ye canny wee rascal, ye lured ’em intae a swamp!”
Ferdimond gazed dumbfounded at the tranquil green glade. “Good grief, is that really a blinkin’ swamp?”
Yoofus flicked a pebble into it. There was a faint plop, and then the small stone was lost to view forever. “Oh, ’tis a swamp alright, mate. I nearly lost me life in it one time, when I was about yore age. Don’t let it fool ye like it fooled the ould vermin. If’n ye took four paces from where we stand, straight ahead, nobeast’d ever know where ye vanished to, that’s a fact. Ah well, ’tis a good job I knew me way around it. Come on now, I promised Skipper we’d meet up with him an’ the others at the water meadows where me friends the Guosim live.”
Doogy carefully backed away from the deceptively calm clearing. “Guosim? What’s Guosim?”
The water vole threw up his paws in despair. “Do ye know nothin’ at all? Guosim are a grand ould tribe o’ shrews. Their name tells it all. Take the first letter of each word—Guerilla Union Of Shrews In Mossflower. Guosim. That’s what it stands for, ye fluffy-tailed clod!”
Ferdimond adopted a superior air. “Guosim, eh? I’ve heard of ’em, old lad, never seen one o’ the blighters, though.”
Yoofus beckoned them onward. “Ah well, ’tis meself who’ll have to further yore eddication. Follow me!”
It was past high noon. The Highlander and the hare had to hurry to keep up with the water vole as he led them through the vast woodlands on a tortuous route.
Ferdimond was prone to grumbling, as is the case with hungry hares. “Strewth, I’m bally well famished! Doesn’t this chap ever stop for a mouthful o’ scoff?”
Doogy, who possessed a healthy appetite, was in agreement with his friend. “Aye, ah could manage a wee gobful o’ vittles mahself.”
Yoofus glanced back at them in mock pity. “Will ye listen to yoreselves! Famished, is it? Hah, if I was carryin’ half the fat youse two have between ye, I’d be hard put t’stand up straight. Stay quiet now, there’s the bulrushes ahead. Stick close t’me.”
Yoofus threw back his head and gave forth with a long ululating call. “Logalogalogalooooog!”
Doogy tapped his shoulder. “Ah thought ye told us tae be quiet, an’ yore makin’ enough racket tae wake a stone!”
The volethief shushed him as an answering call came back at them. “Logalogalogalogaloooooog!” Four Guosim shrew warriors—small, scruffy-furred beasts—emerged from the tall reeds and bulrushes. Each one wore a brightly coloured bandanna tied around his brow and had on a waistcoat plus a broad-buckled belt through which was thrust a short rapier.
The eldest shrew, a tough-looking patriarch with a trim grey beard, shook tails with Yoofus, who grinned cheerily. “Ah, ’tis me ould friend Log a Log Togey. Have ye any more liddle grandshrews since I last met ye?”
Togey patted his ample stomach. “Two score an’ two at the last count, mate, but there’ll be more by summer. How would ye like feedin’ as many mouths as that, eh?”
He eyed Doogy and Ferdimond, then smiled a welcome. “Yore mates are all here. Come this way, but be careful where ye put yore paws. My water meadows are well booby-trapped, as the vermin have found out!”
Water squished from the marshy reed margin as they filed along behind Log a Log Togey. Doogy’s paw shot to his claymore as he glimpsed the coat of an ermine through the tangle of reeds.
One of the younger shrews assured him, “Save yore blade, mate. That ’un’s a dead ’un, see?” He drew back the jumble of vegetation, revealing a drowned ermine with a hefty log hiding its head.
The young shrew winked at Doogy. “They always fall for the seesawin’ log trick. Step on one end, an’ the other end swings up an’ belts ’em. Step over that tripcord—ye see it, that thing wot looks like a thick weed? Yore a goner if ye put a footpaw on that!”
The Highlander did not trouble the shrew for an explanation of the tripcord’s workings but made sure to avoid it studiously.
They mounted a disguised jetty as the reeds thinned out, where a long narrow Guosim logboat was waiting.
Ferdimond gazed around at the water meadows. “I say, this is a jolly nice place. Goin’ for a paddle, are we?”
They sat in the logboat as Guosim shrews plied their oars expertly through the mighty maze of small islands, reedbeds and weeping willows. Doogy had never seen anything so magical or pretty. Huge water lilies and spikes of milfoil carpeted the surface; dragonflies with iridescent wings and pastel-hued butterflies were everywhere. Ferdimond trailed his paw in the water until a shrew cautioned him, “Pike swim round here, mate!”
The logboat nosed gently beneath a bower of overhanging willows, which hemmed three low islands at the centre of the water meadows. The Guosim oarsmen tied up the logboat at a massive deck of floating logs spanning the inner pool. From beneath leafy awnings, their friends emerged to greet them.
Tam waved to Doogy. “Well, look what the breeze blew in! Did ye smell the food cookin’, Doogy Plumm?”
Scrambling from the logboat, Doogy returned the wry greeting. “Aye, ah did, so ah hurried here afore some Border beastie ate it all up. How are ye, mate?”
Tam spread his paws expressively. “Oh, still livin’ the hard old life an’ knockin’ myself about. And you?”
Doogy shrugged. “Didn’t even get the chance tae draw mah blade. Lost four vermin in a swamp, though. Hi there, mate!”
Butty Wopscutt was bouncing a shrewbabe on his lap. “Mister Plumm, I’ve saved ye a place over here.”
Guosim cooks served everybeast a fine meal. There was a delicious watercress soup, followed by watershrimp dumplings and watermeadow salad, with apple and rhubarb crumble for dessert—all this topped off with hazelnuts, Guosim cheese and shrewbeer, which was dark, foamy and slightly sweet-tasting.
Ferdimond sat back with a satisfied sigh. “First-rate tuck, wot! A chap couldn’t grumble at scoff of that bloomin’ quality, eh Yoofus?”
Picking his teeth with a bulrush spike, the volethief nodded. “Sure ’twas a grand ould spread. Me stummick rejoiced at it!”
Ferdimond made his report to Tam and Skipper, telling them of how Yoofus led the vermin into the swamp.
Then the otter chieftain related the progress made by the main force. “When they were chasin’ us, I thought of these water meadows. We were in the area, so I led ’em on, knowin’ how much me ole mate Togey loves vermin.”
The Guosim chieftain banged his tankard down. “As long as I’m Log a Log, there’ll be no vermin scum comin’ into my territory to loot an’ murder. My ole dad was slain by vermin, an’ two of my brothers, but that was in the days when I was only a shrewlet. From wot Tam tells me o’ that brute Gulo an’ his crew, I say ’tis a crime to let the sun rise on such rotten villains. Eatin’ otherbeasts? The filthy, dirty cannibals. Ugh! It don’t bear thinkin’ about. They need t’be wiped from the face o’ the land. Pity we only slew six of ’em today!”
Tam tapped the tabletop with his dirk blade. “Aye, even Gulo the Savage retreated from those reeds once he saw how things were goin’. I wonder where he is now.”
Log a Log Togey put aside a shrewbabe who was trying to chew at his beard. “We’ll find out soon enough when my scouts bring word. So, what’s the next move?”
Tam gestured with a sweep of his blade. “Tell me, what other foes do ye have in the neighbourhood?”
The Guosim chieftain frowned thoughtfully. “Plenty I could think of, Tam. That’s why us Guosim are born fighters—we have to defend our land an’ our families. Let me see now, there’s the marshland toads an’ lizards over to the east. A band o’ River Rats, though they usually never stop in one place. . . .”