first, let's get you fed. They should be ashamed of themselves, keeping a
great lump like you on bread and water.''
Martin shrugged and rubbed his hollow stomach. "Huh, what else is there? I was
lucky to get bread and water sometimes. What do you suggest, fresh milk and
oatcakes?"
"Sorry, matey. I haven't got milk or oatcakes. Would cheese and elderberry
wine do you?" he asked seriously.
Martin was lost for words as GonfF opened his tunic and spilled out a wedge of
cheese and a flat canteen of wine.
"Always keep this for emergencies or trading. Here, you may as well have it.
I've had enough of cheese and wine for a bit."
Martin needed to second bidding. He wolfed away at the cheese, slopping wine
as he gulped it into a full mouth. Gonff shook his head in wonder as the wine
and cheese vanished rapidly. "Go easy, matey. You'll make yourself ill. Take
your time."
Martin tried hard to take the good advice, but it was difficult after so long
on starvation rations. As he ate he questioned Gonff. "Tell me, what have I
walked into around here, Gonff? I'm only a lone warrior passing through; I
know nothing of Mossflower and wildcats."
The mousethief scratched his whiskers reflectively. "Now, let me see, where to
begin. Since long before I was born the old tyrant Verdauga Greeneyes, Lord of
the Thousand thin-gummies and so on, has ruled over Mossflower. One day long
ago, he swept in here at the head of his army. They came down from the north,
of course. The fortress must have been what attracted him. To woodlanders it
was nothing but an old ruin that had always been there; Verdauga saw it
differently, though. This was a place of plenty where he could settle, so he
moved straight in, repaired it as best as he could, called the place Kotir and
set himself up as a tyrant. There were none to oppose him; the woodlanders are
peaceable creatures—-they had never seen a full army of trained soldiers, nor
wildcats. Verdauga could do just as he pleased, but he
30
was clever: he allowed our creatures to live within his shadow and farm the
land. Half of everything they produced was taken as a tax to feed him and his
vermin:"
"Didn't anyone fight back?" Martin interrupted.
Gonff nodded sadly. "Oh yes, even now there are old ones who are still too
frightened to tell of how Verdauga and his cruel daughter put down the poorly
organized rebellion. Those who were not massacred were thrown into this very
prison and left to rot. I'm told my own parents were among them, but I don't
know the truth of it. When the rebellion was broken, Verdauga proved what a
clever general he was. He actually made a kind of peace with the woodlanders.
They were allowed to live within Kotir's shadow and farm the land. He said he
would protect us from further attacks by bands wandering down from the north.
We were partly enslaved then and very much disorganized. Not having any proper
fighting strength and with all the rebellious fighters out of the way, most
creatures seemed just to accept their lot. Then last summer Verdauga became
ill. Since he has been sick, he has left the running of the settlement to his
daughter, Tsarmina. Unlike her father, she is cruel and evil. Woodlanders have
been driven too hard out on the fields and not allowed enough |o live on.
Hedgehogs like Ben Stickle and his family dare not run away; where could they
go, with young ones to care fw? However, things became so bad that a lot of
them took the chance and escaped from the settlement. As the numbers grew
less, Tsarmina demanded more and more from the few. I tell you, matey, it's a
sad tale."
, They sat side by side, watching the shaft of sunlight striking the cell
floor. Martin passed the wine to Gonff. "What do you know about the wildcat
called Gingivere?" - Gonff took a sip of the wine and passed it back. "I know
he never took part in any killing. Woodlanders always hoped that Verdauga
would pass the reins to him. He's supposed to be a good sort, for a wildcat,
that is. Now you take the sister, Tsarmina. She is pure evil—they say that she
is far more Savage than Verdauga. I've heard the gossip around Kotir when IVe
been visiting here, matey—do you know, they say $M Greeneyes is dead and his
son in prison here, so that peans Tsarmina must be the new ruler now.' * v
Martin nodded. "It's true. I saw and heard it myself. Gin-31
givere is in a cell far down the corridor. I tried to speak to him but it's
too far away." The warrior mouse banged his paw against the wall in
frustration. "Why doesn't somebody do something, Gonff?"
The mousethief tapped the side of his nose and lowered his voice. "Sit still
and listen, matey. Now the last families have left the settlement, we're
making plans. All the scattered families and woodlanders have banded together
out there in Mossfiower Woods. They're learning to become strong once more,
and the old spirit of defeat is gone now. We have real fighters training,
otters and squirrels, besides hedgehogs and moles and the likes of me. WeVe
even got a badger, Bella of Brock hall; her family used to rule Mossflower in
the good old days. You'll like her. Together we form the Council of Resistance
in Mossflower—Corim, see, take the first letter of each word. Ha, we're
getting stronger every day."
Martin felt the excitement rising within him again. "Do you think that the
Corim know we're locked up here. Will they help us to escape?"
Gonff winked broadly, a sly grin on his face. "Sssshhhhh, not so loud, matey.
Wait and see."
He passed the wine flask across to Martin. "Tell me something, matey. Why do
they call you warrior? Where are you from? Did you live in a place like
Mossflower? Was it nice?"
Martin put the wine to one side and lay back, staring at the ceiling. "Where I
come from, Gonff, there are no forests, only rocks, grass, and hills. Aye,
that's the northland. I never knew a mother. I was brought up by my father,
Luke the Warrior—my family have always been warriors. We lived in caves,
constantly under attack by roaming bands of sea rats who came inland. You were
forced to defend your cave, your piece of land, or be overrun. There were
other families like us, I had lots of friends—there was Thrugg the Strong,
Ar-rowtail, Felldoh the Wrestler, Timballisto."
Martin smiled at the memory of his companions. "Ah, it wasn't so bad, I
suppose. All we seemed to do was eat, sleep and fight in those days. As soon
as I was tall enough I learned to lift my father's sword and practice with
it."
He touched the broken weapon strung about his neck. "Many's the enemy learned
his lesson at the point of this sword—sea rats, mercenary foxes too. One time
my father
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was wounded and had to stay in our cave. Ha, I remembei all that summer,
fighting off foes while he lay at the cave entrance preparing our food and
calling advice to me. Then one day he took off with a band of older warriors
to meet the jea rats on the shores of the waters far away. They were •opposed
to make an end to all invading rats forever. It was t brave idea. Before he
went he gave me his trusty old sword, then he left carrying spear and shield.
My father said that I should stay behind and defend our cave and land, but if
he did not return by late autumn then I was to do as I felt fit."
Gonff nodded. "And he never returned?"
Martin closed his eyes. "No, he never came back. I defended our land alone,
against all comers. That was when they started calling me Martin the Warrior