Martha protested. “I’m fine, honestly I am!”
But, deaf to her pleas, the ottercook opened the lap rug and tucked it beneath the haremaid’s chin. “No arguments now. I’ll wake ye if’n yore needed, miss. You stay out the way here, in this quiet corner away from broken glass an’ slingstones. I’ll have t’go an’ get more stuff to barricade those windows.”
He hurried off to assist Brother Weld, who was struggling with a door he had taken from its hinges. “Here, Brother, you take one end an’ I’ll take the other.”
Weld sighed thankfully. “We’re getting a bit old for this sort of thing. D’you think we’ll hold them off, Toran?”
Gritting his teeth, the big otter growled. “Filthy scum, if they get in this Abbey, ’twill be over my dead body. Don’t worry, Brother, we’ll keep ’em out!”
Old Phredd helped them to shore the door up against the windows. “Huh, the way I see it, we’re under siege. ’Tis those vermin who are keeping us in!”
Toran clenched his paws tightly. “That’s right. Strange ain’t it, bein’ kept prisoner inside yore own home.”
Old Phredd added miserably, “Aye, what do we do if the food runs out?”
Toran’s clenched paw wagged under the ancient Gatekeeper’s nose. “Quit that kind o’ talk now, d’ye hear me? There’s vittles aplenty for all, so don’t go scarin’ everybeast!”
Badredd watched the dawn wash the skies in rosy hues. The small fox was in his element. “Flinky, Crinktail, c’mere. I got a plan o’ me own at last!”
Both stoats, stuffing themselves on orchard produce, continued eating as Badredd explained his scheme.
“Load up a couple o’ sacks an’ take a stroll through the woods south of here. Eat what y’like as ye go.”
Flinky tossed away a half-eaten pear. “Sounds like a good ould job, Chief, but what’re we supposed t’be doin’?”
The little fox grinned craftily. “Recruitin’ more vermin. We need more beasts to take this place. Tell ’em that Redwall is bein’ conquered by Badredd an’ a vermin crew. Aye, an’ tell ’em there’ll be plenty o’ vittles an’ booty for anybeast who’ll serve under me. Have ye got that?”
Flinky saluted elaborately. “Leave it to us, Chief. We’ll bring ye back a gang o’ the best, so we will. No old or feeble ones, just grand fightin’ vermin. But wot about all this ripe ould fruit?”
Badredd snorted impatiently. “Use yore head, give it away to any vermin ye come across. Show ’em we got plenty of vittles. Say there’s lots more where that comes from, if they’ll come an’ serve under me. Do I have to tell ye everything?”
Crinktail touched the side of her nose knowingly. “We unnerstand, Chief, leave it to me’n Flinky.” The pair hurried off to the orchard to load up sacks of fruit.
Badredd began issuing orders to his depleted crew. “Floggo, Rogg, watch that big door, an’ the windows, too. Keep yore bows’n’arrows at the ready. Kill anybeast wot pokes his nose out!”
The little fox was glad he had the weasel brothers to serve him. They never argued and usually obeyed all orders.
“Juppa, Slipback, Plumnose, Halfchop, keep slingin’ stones at those windows. Whatever ye do, don’t stop!”
Juppa was pawsore and weary of slinging stones. “But we’ve smashed all the windows. Wot else is there t’keep slingin’ stones at?”
Badredd could feel his temper fraying. His voice gained a squeak as he shouted in the weasel’s face. “The idea of breakin’ the windows is so that ye can hurl stones through an’ hit anybeast inside the place. Or are ye too stupid to realise that?”
Juppa stood her ground, arguing back swiftly. “No, I ain’t stupid, but I’m hungry an’ tired! Us four’ve been chuckin’ stones at that Abbey all night. Oh, an’ there’s one more thing we ain’t too stupid to realise. We’re runnin’ outta stones to throw, while yore marchin’ about givin’ orders out an’ doin’ little else!”
Badredd waved his broken cutlass about threateningly. “Don’t ye dare talk t’me like that, I’m the chief around here!”
Slipback muttered loudly. “Wot’re ye goin’ t’do, run ’er through wid a broken sword?”
The little fox threw his half cutlass aside and stamped his footpaw down so hard that it hurt. “I heard that, Slipback. Do? I’ll tell ye wot I’m goin’ to do. I’m goin’ t’show ye three how to sling stones properly! Throw down wot stones ye got left an’ give me yore slings. Plumnose, Halfchop, start slingin’ alongside me. Come on, move yoreselves, take these slings an’ load up!”
Halfchop picked up a sling and loaded it with an apple he had been munching on. He grinned at Badredd. “Kachunk!”
The little fox glared speechlessly at the hapless rat. He shouted to Plumnose, “Teach that idjit to throw stones!”
Furiously, Badredd began slinging at a mad rate. The slingstones went everywhere—a few through the window spaces, some backward across the lawns when he released them too early. Others bounced back off the solid sandstone walls.
Slipback dodged a ricochet, grinning slyly. “Hah, let’s see ’ow long the mighty chief can keep that pace up!”
Juppa started moving out of range, ducking a pebble that had gone the wrong way. “Let’s get out of ’ere afore we get slain!”
She raised her voice, calling to Badredd, “We’re goin’ to get somethin’ to eat an’ take a rest!”
The fox kept hurling stones like a madbeast, panting. “Get out o’ my sight, ye useless lumps! When y’come back, bring more stones, a lot more!”
Plumnose, who was slinging at a much steadier rate, called happily to Badredd. “Huhuh, we’b godd lots ob stones, me’n my mate!”
The fox screeched back at him. “Sharrap an’ get slingin’!”
Halfchop had found a black-and-red banded pebble among his stones. He polished it on his fur and spoke to it. “Kachunk!”
25
Abbot Carrul and Granmum Gurvel were going around Great Hall, distributing beakers of hot barley and leek soup to the defenders. Martha was wakened by a stone pinging off a nearby column. Gurvel ladled soup from a cauldron standing on a trolley. The Abbot served it to Martha. Then Carrul called Toran over and gave him some.
Toran accepted it gratefully. “Well, Father, the windows are barricaded tight now. There’s only the odd stone comin’ through. Let the vermin wear themselves out. Apart from broken panes, there ain’t much damage—unless they try burnin’ the window barricades.”
Carrul tried to remain calm, though he could not help sounding anxious. “Have you a plan in mind, Toran?”
Scratching his rudder, the ottercook stifled a yawn. “I wish I had, but I’m far too tired an’ upset about pore Junty.”
Martha straightened the rug across her lap. “We’d do better if we went upstairs to the dormitories. Perhaps up there we could retaliate against the vermin.”
Abbot Carrul nodded. “Sounds sensible to me, Martha. Carry on.”
Warming to her own idea, the haremaid explained. “We could make slings and throw stones at them. I’ll wager Foremole and his crew could provide us with rubble.”
Gurvel sighted Foremole Dwurl coming up from the cellars. She beckoned him to join them. “Coom over yurr, zurr.”
Dwurl waved a heavy digging claw. “Wutt can oi do furr ee?”
Martha made her request. “Would it be possible to get a load of rubble and pebbles up to the dormitory windows, please?”
The mole nodded his velvety head. “Surpintly, miz! Oi take ett ee bee’s goin’ t’give yon varmints a gudd peltin’, hurr hurr!”
Immensely fond of Foremole Dwurl, Martha took his work-lined paw in hers. “Great minds think alike, my friend. We need lots of stones, and some rubble, to tip on the vermin if they start lighting fires. Water is too precious to waste in our present position.”
Toran looked at his young friend with a new respect. “Hear that, Carrul? Our Martha certainly has a wise head on her shoulders, eh?”