Janglur did not bother to look up at Ascrod, though his voice was menacingly low. "None o' yore business, snipenose. Now get goin', an' take that other one with ye!"
Vannan winked at her brother and smiled nastily as her paw began to stray toward the single-bladed ax she carried beneath her cloak. Janglur appeared to ignore them, and went back to playing his flute. Ascrod leaned close to the squirrel, baring his teeth.
"You're very insolent for a fat lazy squirrel. Shall I show you what we do to beasts with insulting tongues?"
Pffutt!
Janglur Swifteye shot the dart from his flute, burying it deep in the tip of Ascrod's nose. As the fox shrieked out in agony, Janglur sprang upright. Whipping forth a loaded sling from around his waist, he hurled himself upon Vannan, who had her ax halfway out. She went down in an unconscious heap as the hard oval river pebble in the sling's tongue thwacked heavily across her skull. Ascrod was hopskipping about wildly, both paws clapped across his muzzle as he screeched with pain.
"Yeeeeeeek! Yaaaaarreeeeek!"
"Tails'n'scuts preserve us all! Who's kickin' up that awful din?"
Shaking with anger, Janglur turned to see his family dashing toward him, with Ellayo in the lead, brandishing a blackthorn stick.
Janglur stared accusingly at his daughter. "Song, I thought I told you to stay put an' keep 'em quiet?"
Rimrose placed herself between them. " 'Tweren't no fault o' Song's. You jus' try stoppin' that ole mamma of yours when she starts swingin' that stick!"
Janglur's paw shot out. He caught the tip of his mother's stick and held it tight.
Heaving on the blackthorn and stumbling on her long apron hem, the old squirrelwife berated her son. "Leggo o' me stick, y'great boulder-bellied tree-walloper, leggo or I'll spank ten seasons' daylights out of ye!"
Song giggled and clapped her paws. "That's the stuff, Grandma. You give him a good spankin'!"
Rimrose wagged a paw at her daughter. "That'll be quite enough o' that, missie. Show some proper respect for yore elders!" Then, unable to prevent herself, she fell against Song, laughing helplessly. "Oh, heeheehee! It'd be a funny sight to see yore grandma givin' that great lump a spank or two! Heehee!"
Grandma Ellayo let go of the stick and turned on Song and Rimrose, attempting to look fierce as she hid a smile. "Hah! Don't you two think I couldn't tan his tail if'n I took a mind to do it. I'm still his mother, y'know!"
Janglur lifted his mother clear of the ground, hugging her fondly. "You can skelp the fur off'n me anytime ye wants to, my lovely ole barkbelter. Why, I'll bet y'could"
Song interrupted suddenly. "Look! The foxes are gone."
All that remained of the Marlfoxes' visit was a few drops of blood from Ascrod's muzzle, glistening darkly amid the disturbed dust of the path. Janglur peered into the dark woodlands. "Aye, they've got away somehow. Won't catch 'em now, they've vanished." He put a paw about his daughter's shoulders. "Mark what I say, Song. They're Marlfoxes, strange blood runs in their veins. They can disappear like no other livin' creature."
"C'mon, ladies, we best break camp an' get travelin'."
Janglur's family had been wanderers since he was in his infancy, and breaking camp was a simple affair to them. Once the canvas they used as a tent had been folded, their few cooking implements were rolled in it to form a backpack. In the predawn light they breakfasted on clear streamwater and a traveling fruit and honey cake that Rimrose had baked two days before.
"Grandma, what's a Marlfox?" asked Song, between mouthfuls.
Ellayo tried to explain. "The story goes back a long ways'tis far too long to tell in a short time. But I'll tell ye this much, missie. Somewhere there's a forgotten lake, a great stretch o' deep water, almost an inland sea somebeasts say. That's where the Marlfoxes live, an' the most cunning of 'em all, if'n she still lives, is Queen Silth. Aye, they call her the most powerful magic creature alive. 'Tis said her island is a place o' great riches an' beauty. I heard all this from a poor creature who was set upon by a bunch of magpies while fishing off the island."
Ellayo fell silent, and Janglur said, "Don't bother your grandma further, Song. If Marlfoxes are loose in the land y'may learn more than you bargained for. Pick up that linen now, we need t'be travelin'. North an' east a touch, I reckon."
Song folded the small tablecloth, which she had embroidered herself. "What lies in that direction, Father?"
Janglur shouldered the tentpack, settling it comfortably on his back. "The Abbey of Redwall."
The young squirrelmaid's eyes grew wide with delight. She had never visited there, though she had heard tales of the fabulous place. "Redwall Abbey! How wonderful! Oh, Mamma, will it be as nice as you told me it was when I was little?"
Rimrose smiled at her daughter's excitement. "Even nicer, I imagine. Words can't fully describe a place like Redwall."
Song took Grandma Ellayo's paw, supporting her as they walked. With Janglur in the lead, they set off as dawn was breaking. It promised to be another hot summer day, but the tree canopy was thick and would shade them as the sun rose higher. Song could not resist a final question to her father. "Why are we going to Redwall?"
Janglur tucked the reed flute into his broad belt. "Because we must warn whoever rules at the Abbey that there are Marlfoxes roaming the land."
Chapter 2
Farther south, on the flatlands close to the woodland fringe, a gaily painted cart stood propped straight on its two large wheels. It had a single shaft, crosstreed at the end by a well-worn pushing bar. Stretched over willow hoops a canvas cover was copiously painted in once bright colors, now faded by sun and seasons, though the lettering still read clearly.
"The Sensational Wandering Noonvale Companions Troupe!"
On the nearby streambank a motley collection of creatures were preparing for a rehearsal. One of them, a theatrical-looking hare, stood forward. He was clad in a rumpled frock coat of lilac silk and a wide-brimmed straw hat, through which his enormous ears poked. He wore floppy yellow boots and carried a silver-tipped cane. The hare's outfit had obviously seen better seasons, as had the cart and the entire troupe. Nevertheless, the hare twirled his cane and boomed out in fine dramatic fashion as if addressing a vast audience.
"Good morrow, one an' all. I am Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop, h'impresario an' h'actor manager. I preesent to you the Sensational Wanderin' Noonvale Companions Troupe! Descendants of a talented tradition! Unrivaled throughout the entire land! Death-defyin' feats! Hilarious comical plays! Music an' magical virtuosity, jocular jigs an' deelightful dancin'! Come one, come all! Witness our mellifluously marvelous, perfectly pleasurable educational entertainment! Entirely free of charge!" He smiled winningly and continued in a loud stage whisper: "Homemade cakes, pasties an' sundry comestibles, purely for the nourishment of the artistes, gladly accepted with profuse thanks. Ahem!"
From the cover of the cart a gruff voice interrupted Florian's speech impatiently. "Oh, gerron wiv it afore us all falls asleep!"
The hare shot an outraged glance at the cart and snorted. Turning back to his imaginary audience, he beamed. "H'anda now, my bucolic friends, goodwives an' rustic spousesnot forgettin' your charmin' young 'unswe reach our fee-nah-lay! The very climax of our prodigious performance! Borrakul Ironchest an' Elachim Oakpaw, the two strongest h'otters h'ever born, will h'attempt a darin' display of muscle power, which H'i meself have seen kill ten h'other lesser beasts. If you are h'of a nervous nature, kindly look away, as swoonin' an' faintin' may distract the h'artistes' attention. These two mighty marvels will lift the h'entire, H'i repeat, the h'entiredisregardin' me goodself, of coursethey will lift the h'entire Wanderin' Noonvale Companions Troupe ... h'off thee gerround!"
Two burly otters, wearing tawdry gold-fringed pantaloons, skipped athletically forward, flexing their muscles and bowing. Puffing forth their chests and showing rows of white teeth in daredevil smiles, they performed a few limbering-up exercises and then went about their business. Seizing both ends of a long wooden bench, they started, with a great show of huffing and puffing, to lift. Standing on the bench were two moles, one dressed in spangled red bloomers, the other in a cloak and turban of jade green. Lying gracefully across the heads of the two moles was a mouse wearing a coronet of imitation flowers and a flowing sky-blue gown. Skilfully perched on one paw placed upon the mouse's midriff, a hedgehog balanced precariously, his spikes tipped with a mass of pennants, small flags and bunting. Up, up went the bench, with all aboard it wobbling perilously. The hare, Florian, muttered encouragement in a loud stage whisper.