He howled furiously, “Decoys! They were only decoys, set up to fool us, with a couple o’ real ones to bait the trap!”
Hurtling across to where Burlop was sitting next to the ermine he had despatched, Fortindom cursed, “Hell’s teeth of blood’n’fire! Decoys!” Then he shouted to the hares who were pursuing the fleeing vermin, “Run ’em down, me buckoes! No surrender an’ no quarter! Run the scum into the ground. Take no prisoners!”
With dust spurting from his footpaws and bloodlight shining in his eyes, Fortindom thundered off in search of prey.
Burlop was in no state to heed the fray. He sat, motionless at first, staring at the creature he had slain. Then he began to rock back and forth, tears streaming down his homely face as the awful realisation hit him. He sobbed brokenly. “I’m sorry, I never meant to kill you. I’m only the Cellarhog from the Abbey. Please, please forgive me. I’ve never done this before, I’m not a warrior!”
But the sightless eyes of the dead ermine were turned up to the high bright sun, as if ignoring his killer’s pleas. Axe and mallet fell unheeded from Burlop’s paws. He rose slowly, staggering back toward Redwall like a creature in a walking dream, his tears watering the small flowers of the flatlands as he stumbled back home to the Abbey.
Throughout all the commotion, a pair of grappling hooks clanged over the battlements at the east wall. They grated upon the red sandstone, taking the strain as eight white foxes scaled the rope ladder which was attached to the grapnels.
Freeta the vixen was first over the walltop. She helped the others up, reminding them of their mission. “Rogel, Farn, get down below and open that little wallgate. Ye know what ye must do?”
Rogel drew his curved sword. “Aye, we hold it until Captain Zerig and the others get here. After we let them in, we lock the gate an’ check all other entrances are tight shut. Then the tall rabbit warriors will be locked outside the Abbey.”
Gazing from the walltop at the deserted grounds inside the outer wall, Freeta squirmed with delight. “Who but a vixen could think of such a plan? Look ye at this place—’tis a paradise!”
Farn strung an arrow to his bow, grinning wolfishly. “Aye, an’ peaceful, too. All the creatures who are not warriors must be hiding inside the big house.”
A tall, gaunt fox gazed hungrily at the Abbey building. “Methinks ’tis like a great meatstore!”
Freeta pointed her blade at him meaningly. “Thy life will be short if ye touch them before Zerig arrives an’ this place is secure. We will need captives to show us about this wondrous place. They can tell us where all their treasures are hidden. We will make them talk.” She licked her blade before adding, “One way or another. Follow me an’ heed my orders. We will find a way into the big house.”
In the second-floor dormitories, Redwallers crowded the west windows, watching the fight out on the flatlands.
The ottermaid Brooky shaded her eyes. “It’s a bit far out to see ’em properly, Armel. Oh, what a shame, I was enjoying seein’ those horrors gettin’ their comeuppance. Where are they now—can anybeast see?”
The goshawk stood on a sill, his keen eyes missing little. “Harraaaggg! They scatter like flies, but our warriors are after them. Now the vermin run back to the woodland.”
Foremole Bruffy smote the sill with a heavy digging claw. “You’m cowurds! Oi ’opes ee ’arebeasts h’appre’nds they’m villyuns afore they’m gets ’idden in ee trees!”
Sister Armel had lost any great interest in the battle once she had witnessed the vermin being routed. Her immediate concern was to prevent any of the Dibbuns from falling out of the dormitory windows. She grabbed the tail of Mimsie the mousebabe, not a moment too soon.
“Back in here, missy, right now! Down you go onto the floor. Tergen, please don’t lean against the shutters on that injured wing like that, it’ll never heal properly. Mudge, don’t lean out so far, you’ll fall. Oh come in, you rascal, there’s nothing to see anymore!”
Abbot Humble took hold of the molebabe, but the little one clung to the sill, resisting any attempt to pull him back into the safety of the dormitory.
Mudge protested. “Burr leggo, H’Abbot zurr. Oi’m watchin’ ee foskers down thurr on ee steps!”
Humble drew Mudge inside, looking over the sill as he did. “There’s no foxes down there, you little fibber. . . .” Then he caught sight of Freeta and her crew, who had stepped back from the Abbey door and were looking upward.
Humble pulled back hastily. “Tergen, come in off that sill! Jem, Walt, close the shutters. Be still and quiet everybeast, please!”
Sister Screeve glimpsed the Abbot’s shocked face. “Father, what’s the matter?”
Humble pointed to the window, his voice a hushed whisper. “Foxes at our Abbey door. How did they get into Redwall?”
“Search me, I never asked ’em. Sneaky villains, hahaha!” Everybeast turned to glare at the ottermaid.
Armel silenced her sharply. “It’s no laughing matter, Brooky!”
Brooky looked around sheepishly. “Sorry!”
Brother Gordale turned to Humble. “What shall we do, Father?”
The Abbot sat down on a bed. “Er, er . . . give me a moment will you, friend? Let me think.”
The strong young ottermaid grabbed two long window poles, tossing one to Armel. “Let’s get down there. The rest of you, find something to use as a weapon and follow us quietly!”
Freeta banged on the Abbey door with her sword hilt. Another fox placed his mouth to the crack of the doorjamb and called aloud, “We have seen ye. Open this door or ’twill go badly with ye!”
There was no answer. Freeta instructed two other foxes, “Climb up one of those ledges to the right. Have a look through those long, coloured windows an’ tell me what ye see.”
The one fox, by climbing onto the shoulders of the other, was able to reach the sill, then easily scrabble up over the smooth stone. He spat on the windowpane, then began rubbing at it with his paw.
Armel and Brooky were crossing Great Hall when the ottermaid, detecting a squeaking noise from the windows, spotted the fox peering in through a section of amber-coloured glass.
Holding the brass-hooked window pole low, she whispered to her friend, “Go and see what he wants. Don’t look at me . . . Go!”
Once she reached the window, Armel mouthed a question to the fox on the other side of the glass. “What do you want?”
She had to repeat the question before the intruder understood. Pointing to his open mouth and grinning wickedly, he pantomimed an eating gesture, clearly indicating Armel as his desired meal. She smiled back at him, mouthing a reply. “You want to eat me?!”
The white fox nodded. Walking out of his view, Brooky stole along the wall beneath the window until she reached a bench nearby. The fox was still mimicking the act of eating, licking his lips and showing his teeth, when Brooky jumped up on the bench. The large, solid ottermaid slammed the window pole hard at the stained-glass section, smashing it through the window—and the fox’s fangs at the same time. He fell backward with a gurgling scream.
Freeta and the others came running. She grabbed hold of the injured one, heaving him upright and shaking him as she grated angrily, “What happened . . . Who did this? Speak, fool!”
The fox tried to mumble something, but his mouth was too badly injured. Blood spattered the vixen’s face.
Repulsed, she pushed him away before turning upon his companion. “Why weren’t you up there, too, mudbrain?”
He protested. “There was no room for two. I was holding his paws lest he fell . . . Duuuunnnhhhh!”