Martin pointed to Chibb descending from the blue. "Here comes my spy now."
"Er, ahem, I overheard the cat giving orders."
"What was she saying?"
"Well, harrumph, ahem. Most of it wasn't fit for the ears
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of any decent creature, but she's left a token force on the roof and is taking
the rest downstairs."
Martin unsheathed his sword. "That may mean she intends coming out to make an
attack on us."
Bella nodded. "Well, she can't get through the gateway. I've locked and wedged
that gate myself."
"Then they'll probably be coming over the walls," Skipper interrupted. "This
is what I've been waiting for, hearties—a good chance to use my pike hares."
"Oh, we'll be there, old bean, pikin' away." "Rather. Done this sort of thing
before, doncha know." "Jab, thrust and whatnot; all part of the game." Young
Dinny waved a dagger at his crew. "Ho arr, we be roight aside 'ee. Wudden miss
et furr nuthen."
Martin called order. "I want no pitched battle or wholesale killing," he told
them firmly. "You must do just enough to defend our position and send them
back in retreat over that wall. Lady Amber, keep squirrels high in the trees;
have them take brushwood shields for protection. They must keep those archers
on the roof pinned down."
A weasel called Foulwhisker peered around the doorway to the parade ground.
"All clear, Milady. They think we're still on the roof," he reported.
"Good. Get across the open ground quickly and don't drop those ladders."
The attack force was a large one. Brogg led them across the parade ground to
the wall.
"Right, you lot. Set the ladders up and get climbing," he ordered.
They scaled the walls until the top of the stonework was thick with soldiers.
Nervously they watched the trees, until Brogg came up last, panting hard.
"See anything?"
"No, Cap'n. All clear."
' 'Then haul these ladders up and let them down the other side."
As the last troops set paw on the woodland side, Martin appeared from the
trees. He was backed by six hares carrying pikes. Brogg grinned; not a very
large reception.
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"Troops charge!"
Otters poured out of the undergrowth from behind Martin and the hares. From
the left and right flanks, a horde of Mossflower irregulars sprang from
hiding, closing like pincer jaws.
Pike clashed upon spear as the two sides met, and battle cries arose.
"Death to the woodlanders!"
"Martin for Mossflower!"
A fox struck down an oar slave. He was about to finish him off when Skipper
thwacked him hard with a rock-laden sling, knocking the spear from his paws.
The six hares were causing devastation, with their pikes easily outreaching
Kotir spears. Soldiers facing fierce otters ran to the left or right, only to
see the way barred by mobs of shrews, mice, moles and oar slaves.
Brogg was no coward when his blood was roused. He fought madly to reach the
warrior mouse who carried the whirling sword.
Martin took a stoat low down, whipping the blade up and round at head height
as Boar had shown him. Turning, he felled a weasel. Then Brogg was upon him,
bulling forward. Unable to use his spear, the Captain threw himself at the
warrior mouse. Martin saw him coming. Falling backward and throwing his paws
up, he caught Brogg off balance, tossing him neatly. Skilfully, Brogg landed
on all fours. Grabbing his curved sword, he came thundering back with the
point held low. Martin rolled to one side, leaped straight up, and chopped
down with a double-pawed swing. The weasel Captain found himself holding a
sword handle from which the blade had been completely shorn. He backed up to a
tree, with Martin's sword at this throat.
"Back over that wall. Now!" The warrior mouse's voice snapped like a whip.
To Brogg's surprise, the blade lowered. He found himself dashing for the wall,
shouting aloud, "Retreat, retreat. Back to Kotir!"
Skipper hefted a javelin, taking aim at Brogg, but Martin's sword pushed the
weapon aside.
"Enough, Skip. Let them go."
* * *
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The vanquished troops fought tooth and claw among themselves to be first over
the wall lest the warrior mouse change his mind.
Loamhedge mice moved in to help the wounded.
Martin, Skipper and Gonff stood breathing heavily.
"You should have let us finish it, Martin."
"No, Skipper," Martin said firmly. "The only time I would have allowed that
was if the cat had been here."
Gonff sheathed his two fighting daggers. "Blow me, matey. We had them whipped
there. Why did you let 'em go?"
.Martin wiped his sword on the grass, staring at the slain of both sides
strewing the woodland floor.
"To show them we are not evil," he said at last. "We only want what is ours,
and now I think they know we're strong enough to get it. Could you not see,
the fight is going out of those soldiers? They are beginning to look as if
they need food. Their larders must be just about empty, and only the fear of
their cruel Queen keeps them going. Besides, when I put my plan in motion with
the help of some otters and my friend Timballisto, Kotir will be truly broken
and defeated until it is only a bad name to frighten little ones off to bed
with in the seasons to come."
Bella shook her head sadly as she picked up the limp form of a squirrel who
had been a former oar slave.
"You did right, Martin," she told him. "There is no greater evil than killing.
I don't care whether they call it war or justice. Life is precious."
A Loamhedge mouse wiped away a tear as she turned to Timballisto. "I think
Bella's right," she added.
"Aye, and so do I, young missie. But what can Martin do? He has to lead us to
a lasting peace against a cruel and coldblooded cat," Timballisto said gently.
There was no more fighting that day. Both sides halted to lick their wounds.
Martin waited for sunset, whilst Tsarmina berated her soldiers as she tried to
think up fresh schemes for victory.
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47
It had been a hot afternoon. The sun started to redden against a dusky purple
sky as Tsarmina ventured to stand at her high window. There was the warrior,
standing armor-clad on top of the wall. He had probably used one of the
ladders left behind by the cowards who had retreated. Tsarmina raked her claws
across the window ledge in helpless fury.
"What do you want, mouse?"
As she asked the question, she was groping furiously for the bow and arrows
which she kept close to paw.
"The sun is nearly set, Tsarmina. Remember the ultimatum I gave you this
morning?"
The wildcat Queen played for time as she fumbled with bow and arrows beneath
the window ledge.
"Tell me again, mouse. Refresh my memory."
"The message has not changed. There is still time for you to take your army
out of here and leave us in peace," he said reasonably. "You will not be
harmed if you leave before the sun is down."
The arrow came speeding through the air and struck Martin in the side. The
warrior mouse flinched and swayed with pain, but he stood firm. Tsarmina bit
her Up until blood flowed.
Martin turned and painfully mounted the ladder, with the shaft still sticking
in him. As he went, his words were like a final knelclass="underline"
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"Then it is finished. I will bring this place down around you stone by stone.
You will travel to the gates of Dark Forest."
The troops sitting in the mess hall heard every chilling word in the failing
light.
"We should have got out of here long ago," a ferret called Ditchpaw snarled at