Tullgrew pointed in his direction. "Don't ask us, Ballaw. Put in your request to Quartermaster Sergeant Fuffle over there."
The tiny mouse waved the spoon sternly at the hare. "Fuffle say back t' work, or I chop y' tail off!"
Ballaw backed away from the sticky spoon wielding infant. "Muff said, old lad. Nod's as good as a wink to a starved warrior. I say, Purslane, you've got a very violent offspring there!"
Lunch was a simple affair, leek and cabbage soup, summer salad, followed by honeyed scones and strawberry cordial. The midday sun was tempered by a gentle breeze from the sea as the newly formed Fur and Freedom Fighters sat about, eating and taking their ease.
Rowanoak, Ballaw, Felldoh and Barkjon held an open discussion on the merits and drawbacks of going into battle. Barkjon and Rowanoak were not convinced that it was a good idea.
"Felldoh, you haven't got a tenth of the force that Badrang commands," the old squirrel cautioned his son. "We're not strong enough yet, lives could be lost needlessly in an attack on Marshank."
The strong young squirrel put aside his food. "I'm not talking about pitched battle, Father. Lightning attacks are what I plan. Hit hard and fast, then vanish. What's the matter with you? I've seen the days when we were slaves that you would vow vengeance on Badrang and all his kind."
Rowanoak intervened. "You both have valid points, Felldoh, but I agree with your father. We are not warriors, nor have we been into battle before. Granted that Badrang is evil and Marshank needs destroying, but you must realize that his horde are all seasoned killers and trained fighters. All that you have at the moment is a small bunch of freed slaves and some strolling players."
Ballaw finished off a scone, licking honey from his paws. “But we freed the slaves, didn't we? Brome walked right into old Badbottom's fort and bluffed it out. Who's to say we can't become a first rate fightin' force and whack them for good. What d'you say, eh, Brome old feller?"
Brome avoided Felldoh's eyes. "I can't say much. I may be good at bluffing, but I'm not a warrior. I know that now. I don't want to see creatures killed, particularly our own."
Felldoh ruffled his young friend's ears. "Then you can become a healer, one who cares for the wounded. It takes a brave beast to dash about in battle doing that."
Old Geum dipped a scone in her cordial to soften it. "All this talk of fighting and killing, why don't we just find another place far away from here, where we can enjoy life. Leave Badrang to his own devices and forget about the whole nasty thing, Marshank and these shores."
Suddenly Purslane was up, her eyes blazing. "I'll tell you why, because if Badrang is still there and Marshank still stands, then other creatures will be captured and taken as slaves. I have a little one, and I would fight with my life so that he could grow up a free creature!"
Keyla sprang up applauding her brave words. "Well said, marm. We know what it's like to live under the whips of a tyrant. It's not life, it's living death!"
Felldoh turned to his father and Rowanoak. "These creatures have said it all. I could not have spoken more strongly. I will lead the first attack tonight."
Barkjon looked up at his strong fearless son. "It has been in you to do this thing since you were a little one in the quarry, helping me to haul rocks. May the seasons and good fortune aid you, Felldoh, and keep those under you safe."
Rowanoak shrugged, knowing protest would be useless. "What can I say except, break a leg!"
Felldoh looked puzzled until Ballaw explained. "In the actin' game it's our way of sayin' good luck to a chap."
The baby Fuffle waved his wooden spoon. "Break bofe legs!"
There was laughter and applause for the infant's wisdom.
31
Travelling with Boldred was a real delight for Martin. The owl chose the prettiest paths and was friendly with every creature who dwelt beside them. They stopped often to eat the abundant fruits that grew everywhere. At one place Boldred showed them a tree laden with shiny dark red cherries. The temptation was too great to resist. They stood beneath the low hanging branches, plucking the juicy cherries and gobbling them down.
"Wonder, cudd oi make cherry zoop out'n these yurr?" Grumm ruminated.
Boldred spread a wing. "There's lots of cherry trees round here.
Take your time, enjoy them. I'll be back in a short while." She flew off to map new features and talk with other creatures.
They lay beneath the tree, devouring cherries and seeing who could spit the stones furthest.
Pallum plucked a cherry off one of his spikes and popped it into his mouth. "Ah, this is the life for us, pals!"
Without warning, an incredibly ancient hedgehog came crashing through the undergrowth towards them, waving a knobbly blackthorn stick. He was completely grey and quite shaky on his paws, but it did not diminish his temper.
"Get ye gone, ye rascals, ye cherry thievin' wastrels. Be off with ye, or I'll lay this stick across your robbin' backs!"
Pallum stood upright, holding out his paws in peace. "Here now, hold hard, Father. We're not robbers!"
The ancient beast swung his stick at Pallum, but he did it so slowly that the young hedgehog had no trouble avoiding it. "Don't call me Father, ye young brigand. I wouldn't be thy father for a whole plum orchard!"
The old hedgehog wore tiny square spectacles on his snout end, and as he swung the stick they fell off. He groped about, still whacking out feebly. Rose dodged under the stick. Retrieving the spectacles, she held the blackthorn tight as she resettled the glasses on the grey snouted creature.
"There, that's better. We're not thieves, sir. We didn't know the cherry trees belonged to you."
He tugged fitfully at the stick that Rose was still holding. "Let go of my stick, damsel. You're no better than ye should be!"
Martin sat up. There was no danger from the old one, but he was becoming very tiresome with his insults and rantings. The young mouse spoke sternly to him.
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, old one, and stop waving that stick about - or I'll take it from you!"
The hedgehog managed to get the stick loose from Rose and adopted a fighting stance. "Hoho, ye boldfaced mouse. So ye want to fight me now. Then so be it. Come on, have at ye!"
He raised the stick just in time for Boldred to swoop in and pluck it from his paws. She landed, shaking her head. "Aggril, stop this. How many times have you been told the cherry trees do not belong to you?
They are here for all creatures, not just for you!"
The old hedgehog Aggril knocked the heads from some daisies with his footpaws, muttering rebelliously, "Young uns today have no respect for age. Yon mouse with the sword offered me combat, 'twere no fault o' mine."
Grumm stood up indignantly. "Oo, 'ee gurt fibber. Marthen dood no such a thing. You'm a crafty ole beast, zurr, beggin' yurr pardon, iffen oi do say so."
Immediately Aggril's mood changed at the sight of Grumm. "Oh, a moley creature. Do accept my 'umble apologies, friends. Moleys are the nicest an' wisest beasts alive. Do ye an' thy companions have a liking for cherry cordial? Follow me!"
The four travellers looked at each other nonplussed.
Boldred shook with silent mirth. "Go on, follow him. He's harmless really, just a touch eccentric. I'm mapping a stream course-see you later." She winged off high above the trees.
Grumm started following Aggril, calling to the others, "Coom on, oi dearly wudd loik t' taste cherry corjul!"
The old hedgehog lived in a hollow oak, long dead but still standing, with a small door over a hole at its base. They followed him in. It was cool and dark. Stacked all around its walls were kegs, flasks and gourds of cordial. Aggril was very proud of his stock. He adjusted his glasses and peered closely at the labels on each receptacle.
"Mmm now, here be a cordial fit for kings an' queens, a score of seasons old, I lined the cask with honey myself to sweeten it."