Janglur shook his head disapprovingly. "Should have at least one able-bodied beast who can stay awake in charge of this entrance. Shall we go up on the battlements?"
Rusvul swept the inner grounds with a wave of his javelin. "Best cover the inside first, then we'll take a turn around the walltops."
They headed toward the southwest corner, Janglur munching away at a scone. "Mmm! Hot'n'fresh, like a good scone oughter be. I never tasted anythin' nicer'n Redwall Abbey vittles in all me life, mate."
Rusvul passed him the cordial flask. "Then why don't you stay? There's always a place for a useful squirrel like yoreself 'ere. I gave up wanderin' when I lost me pore dear wife. Redwall's home t'me an' Dannflor now."
Janglur gave the matter serious consideration. "Aye, I've still got my family about me, though my mum's gettin' too old t'be travelin' these days. I know Rimrose likes the Abbey. She said so last night, hinted that it'd be a good place to bring our Songbreeze up in, an' I agree with her. Pretty young maid like Song shouldn't spend 'er seasons roamin' the woodlands an' dales. Redwall's a place she can meet nice friends an' grow up good."
They continued in this vein, strolling along the south grounds, conversing quietly, but checking carefully around bushes and shrubbery, their keen eyes constantly searching for things otherbeasts would miss, disturbed dew on the grass, or a freshly broken stem. Everything was in order. As they approached the small wallgate set in the center of the east wall, both stopped talking and stood still.
Janglur's heavy-lidded eyes fixed themselves on the wallgate. He whispered, "Listen, can you hear that scratchin' noise?"
Rusvul nodded, pointing his javelin tip at the door-jamb. "Look!"
The door was a solid little affair made from close-jointed elm planks painted green. It had a single heavy iron bolt securing it. The scraping noise started up again, and a narrow strip of soft metal, hooked at one end, poked through a fresh gap made in the doorjamb by a knife. Janglur looked at the wood shavings on the ground, and took in the full situation at a glance.
"Somebeast tryin' to push the bolt back an' open the wallgate!"
Now they could hear gasping and muttering from outside.
"Mmff! Grmmf! Should've cut a wider gap fer this t'go through!"
"Owch! Y've trapped me paw. Leggo, I can do it!"
Rusvul pointed silently to the walltop. Careful to make no noise, they hurried back and dashed up the southeast wallsteps. Dropping flat on the ramparts, both squirrels wriggled swiftly toward the center of the east wall. Straightening cautiously, they peered down between the battlements.
Four water rats were at the gate, one with his body flattened sideways against the door as he strove to hook the metal device over the bolt and push it open. The others were either urging him on or telling him to let them try to do it. Mouth close to Janglur's ear, Rusvul whispered, "Four of 'em!"
Janglur scoured the scene thoroughly, eyes flicking from side to side. "Rusvul, wait. There's five. See the Marlfox leanin' on that rowan!"
The Marlfox, Gelltor, unaware that he was being watched, struck the treetrunk impatiently. "Hurry it up, Fatchur. What's the matter? I thought you were supposed to be good at opening locks."
A rattle of metal upon metal sounded out. The rat, Fatchur, straightened up confidently, assuring his master, "I think I've got it, sire. The hook's over the bolt end!"
Janglur nudged Rusvul urgently. "Best put a stop t'this afore they're in. I'll take Fatchur, you pick off the Marlfox. Now!"
Janglur leaned out over the battlements whirling his sling. Thwok! Fatchur was slain instantly as the big round river pebble struck him square between the eyes. Rusvul threw his javelin.
It was only Gelltor's swiftness that saved his life. He saw the rat fall as the slingstone struck, and glancing up at the walltop he could see Janglur, sling in paw at the battlement, with Rusvul to one side of him launching the javelin. The Marlfox threw himself to one side, but not fast enough. The javelin, which was aimed at his chest, missed any vital spot, but took a chunk of flesh from his shoulder, pinning his cloak to the rowan. Stifling a shriek of pain, Gelltor ripped the cloak free as he fell on all fours. Not waiting to see what fate befell the other three rats, he took off through the undergrowth, crouching low and clasping his wounded shoulder. Instantly the remaining rats fled, sent on their way by another stone from Janglur's sling, which cracked the tail of the last one stumbling into the cover of the trees.
The squirrels immediately hurried from the walltop back down to the gate. Janglur unlatched the metal hook from the protruding bolt end and inspected the device. "That rat knew what he was doin'. A good shove or two an' they would've been in. Let's see if'n he's still alive."
They unlocked the gate and stepped out into Mossflower Wood. Rusvul turned the rat over, placing a paw on the creature's heart. "Hmph! Won't get anythin' out o' this 'un. Dead as a doornail!"
The rat was long and thin. He wore a gray tunic with a wide belt in which were stuck a dagger and curved sword, the only other item he possessed being a half-length black cape. Rusvul rolled the carcass into some deep loam beneath a spreading buckthorn bush. Janglur heaved on the javelin, tugging it from the rowan trunk.
"Y'had tough luck there, mate. He moved a bit too fast for ye!"
Rusvul cleaned his javelin tip by jabbing it in the earth. "Maybe, but one thing I'm sure of now, Marlfoxes ain't magic. They're quick, but they can't vanish like some say they do. Don't worry, I'll get 'im next time!"
Dawn was up now, rosy and clear. They strode back to the Abbey finishing the last drop of cordial. Janglur licked his lips. "I'm ready for a proper breakfast now. Don't mention what happened back there to any save those who have t'know. Oh, an' we'll have t'see if'n those wallgates can be locked up more secure."
Mokkan, the self-appointed leader of his brother and sister Marlfoxes, sat eating a meal of trout, cooked over the fire. Gelltor plastered stream mud on his wound, binding it with dockleaves and sorrel. Mokkan spat a fishbone at him, curling his lip scornfully.
"Blitherin' oaf! You made a right mess of that plan. Now the Redwallers are sure to know we're about!"
The vixen, Predak, helped herself to a portion of the trout. "They probably already knew we were in Moss-flower if they have half a brain between them. Don't blame Gelltor. I don't think you could have done any better."
Mokkan wiped his paws on the grass, taunting his wounded brother. "A Marlfox getting himself wounded by a squirrel, and losing a good water rat into the bargain. Tell me, Gelltor, d'you think I could have done better?"
Gelltor winced as he tied the dressing with green reeds. "They'll get back more than they gave when I start on them. I'll slay ten for killing Fatchur and twenty for injuring me!"
Mokkan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't understand, stupid. We came to steal, not to start a war. Where's the profit in that?"
Gelltor whipped out his ax and gripped the haft tightly. "Blood for blood, I say. Who's with me?"
Ziral raised her voice. "It's not blood for blood unless somebeast kills a Marlfox. That's our law, brother. Mokkan's right. We came for plunder and Redwall Abbey is the only place worth thieving from. You messed things up, got yourself wounded and lost Fatchur. None of us is with you!"
Mokkan picked his teeth with a fishbone, sneering at Gelltor. "See, for the moment we're robbers, not killers. Haven't you got it into that thick skull of yours? High Queen Silth must be surrounded by beauty. Rich, wonderful things, that's what we need to bring back to the island. Imagine what she'd do if we staggered back to Castle Marl with half our number dead because we'd started an all-out war with the beasts of Redwall?"
Gelltor slumped against a tree, nursing his wound. "Aarh! I don't see the sense to it, trampin' round the woodlands just to rob stuff to please that crazy old relic. It's daft!"