Martha turned to the ottercook, her eyes shining fiercely. “Aye, and I don’t intend to lose it to a band of murdering vermin. It was vermin who slew my family when I was a babe and too young to do anything about it. This time ’tis going to be different. No matter what happens, those evil scum are not going to take Redwall Abbey from us. We’ll defeat them!”
They all clasped paws on the arm of the haremaid’s chair. Her resolution ran like wildfire through them all.
Father Abbot Carrul’s voice echoed around Great Hall. “Everybeast upstairs to the front dormitories. We’re going to fight them. Redwaaaaaaalll!”
A great cheer went up as Martha had united them in a common cause: taking the attack to the foebeast. The Redwallers thundered upstairs, shouting and roaring.
“We’ll teach ’em a lesson they won’t forget!”
“Aye, they’ll regret the day they came to our Abbey!”
“No vermin’s goin’ to bully us!”
“Blood’n’vinegar, that’s what they’ll get!”
Sister Setiva was minding the Dibbuns as the dormitory door was flung open wide. Redwallers crowded in, still shouting. The Abbeybabes did not quite know what was going on, but they joined in lustily, issuing dire threats against the enemy.
“Cutta tails off wiv rusty knifes!”
“Boil ee varmints in roasted baffwater!”
“Gurr, smack ee bottoms wi’ gurt sticks!”
Little Buffle stuck out his stomach and bellowed, “Yukkumbumgur!”
Setiva was becoming able to translate Buffle’s baby language. She raised her eyebrows in horror. “Och, ye wee scallywag, I’ll wash your mouth out wi’ soap if ye even think o’ sayin’ that again!”
Martha was carried up, chair and all, by Brother Weld, Toran and several stout moles. Immediately she related her plan to all the Abbeybeasts.
“Sisters Setiva and Portula, could you set about making lots of slings? Good, strong braided ones. Brothers Gelf and Weld, I want you to check the downstairs barricades as often as you can. Make sure they’re still holding firm, and report back to me each time. Foremole, sir, can you bring up as much stone and rubble as you can lay your paws on?”
Dwurl saluted. “We’m got loads o’ rubble an’ rock frum our diggin’s in ee basement, miz. Oi’ll bring et roight aways.”
The haremaid nodded to Toran. “Can you search about, friend, to find anything we can use as weapons? Anything!”
Muggum and the Dibbuns clung to the chairarms, pleading, “Uz ’elp ee, Miz Marth’, give us’n’s summ jobs!”
Sister Setiva turned in the dormitory doorway, shaking her blackthorn stick and berating the Abbeybabes. “Och! Ah’ll give ye jobs. Get straight intae yon beds an’ stay oot o’ Miss Martha’s way, this verra instant!”
Martha saw the sad little faces on the Dibbuns and interceded on their behalf to the strict Infirmary Keeper. “Please, Sister, they only want to help. Let me find a job for them. Granmum Gurvel, have you any sieves or riddles? We’ll need them to sift out slingstones from Foremole’s rubble when it arrives up here. Could you find some?”
Muggum brightened up. “Oi’ll tell ee a riggle, Miz Marth’.”
Gurvel took the molebabe’s paw. “Gurr, liddle pudden ’ead, that bee’s ee wrong sort o’ riggle. Cumm to ee kitchens, an’ oi’ll foind ee sum proper riggles.”
Everybeast hurried to their tasks, while Martha tried to keep some organisation amid the ensuing chaos.
Molecrews trundled in and out of the dormitory, bearing stretcherloads of rubble. Sister Portula and some elders ripped old fabric into strips and began weaving slings. Redwallers on kitchen duty came scurrying up with drinks and meals. Martha wheeled her chair about, giving directions, calling encouragement and keeping the constant traffic moving back and forth.
“Don’t block the doorway, please. Bring that stretcher right in and empty it there, by the window.” She seemed to be everywhere at once. “Oh, that’s a nice strong sling, put it over there with the others. Don’t leave that cordial and soup by the rubble, it’ll get dust all over it. Shut it inside that wardrobe for the present.”
Badredd soon grew tired of slinging stones. His paws were aching: more than once, a stone had stayed in the sling, causing it to wrap around his paw and strike it sharply. That, plus the fact that he was an abominable shot, made him toss the sling away angrily.
“Blood’n’skulls, I’ve got better things t’do than stand here chuckin’ stones all day. Where’s the rest o’ this lazy lot, eh? Stuffin’ vittles or layin’ about sleepin’, I bet. Well, I’ll soon liven their ideas up, the dirty layabouts!” He stalked off in high dudgeon.
Plumnose and Halfchop dropped their slings and trailed after him. The little fox turned on them furiously. “Where are you two deadbrains goin’? Did I tell ye t’stop slingin’? Get back there afore I flay ye both!” The pair went back wearily and continued slinging.
Plumnose complained resentfully to his companion. “Huh, he’d inna bad mood, iddent he?”
Halfchop nodded in agreement. “Kachunk!”
Martha kept track of Badredd from her position at the front dormitory windows. “I wonder where he’s off to now.”
Toran stood behind her chair. “Who knows, miss. He’s up t’no good, though, an’ jumpin’ mad by the look o’ him.”
Foremole gestured at the considerable mound of earth and stone piled up close to the windowsills. “Hurr, ee vurmint can jump all ee looikes, we’m ready for ’im!”
Granmum Gurvel staggered in, dragging a bulging sack. “Yurr, lookit oi finded, ee gurt sack uv ’otroot pepper. Ee ’ hotters leaved it yurr afore they’m go’d off. Oi’m b’aint a keepen it in moi kitchens, no zurr, orful sneezy stuff!” Gurvel dumped it next to Martha’s chair. The haremaid quickly pulled out her kerchief as dust rose from the sack. “Kerchoo! Aah . . . Aah . . . Achoo! Beg your pardon, dearie me!”
Baby Buffle stared down at the sack from the top of the rubble mound. “Sumakivalikkasaccasaccavurgimchoochoo!”
Martha dabbed at her nose with the kerchief. “What’s he chunnering on about now, Sister?”
Setiva translated the shrewbabe’s language. “Och, pay no heed tae the rascal. He says we should throw et at yon vermin. ’Tis a silly idea—we’d be sneezed tae death doin’ a thing like that. The breeze’d carry et right back in ’ere.”
Gurvel spoke up. “Nay, marm, not if us’n’s makes ee likle sacks uv pepper, boi ’okey. We’m cudd frow slingers at ee varmints.”
Martha clapped her paws delightedly. “What a great plan! Thank you, Buffle and Gurvel. Let’s try it!”
The ancient molecook took charge of the operation. Soon, she and several Dibbuns donned bandannas of wet cloth to protect their noses and mouths against the fiery hotroot pepper. Carefully, they ladled measured portions of the pepper onto flimsy squares of thin, birch-bark parchment. Each of these was fashioned into a tiny bundle, tied at the top with thread. Toran weighed one in his paw. “Just right for throwin’. Hoho, these’ll cause a few sneezes if they land on some scummy noses!”
Yooch the molebabe had scrambled up onto a windowsill. Jumping up and down, he waved his tiny paws and squealed, “Look out, look out, d’vermints bee’s cummin’!”
Badredd kept a paw on the broken cutlass in his belt, not drawing the weapon lest they see it was only a half-bladed thing. Behind him stood the rest of the available vermin crew—Halfchop, Floggo, Rogg, Slipback, Plumnose and Juppa.
The little fox shouted boldly. “Where’s yore chief? I wanna talk!”
Abbot Carrul showed himself at the dormitory window. “Say what you have got to say, fox!”
Badredd puffed out his narrow chest. “Lissen, we’ve got ye well boxed in up there. You ain’t warriors, ye can’t fight back or hurt us. So I’ll tell ye what I’ll do. Open yore doors, we won’t attack. Just let me’n one o’ my crew come in. When we’ve found yore magic sword, an’ other bits o’ loot that we fancy, we’ll leave ye in peace an’ go.”