But Chugger didn't come. They sat and ate lunch, glancing about and giving an occasional shout of the little squirrel's name. Still nothing.
Trimp was worried. "Martin, will you go and take a good look around? I'm sure Chugger can't have gone far."
The Warrior put aside his food. "Let's all take a look!"
Spreading out in different directions they began combing the area. Martin and Gonff went east and west along the bank, while Dinny searched in and around the camp area, in case Chugger was having a game with them. Trimp ventured alone into the woodland, knowing that Martin and Gonff would circle inward and meet up with her when they had searched the bank both ways. Tree shelter became thick and gloomy, blocking out most of the sunlight and leaving the depths cloaked in a murky green twilight. The hedgehog maid went cautiously, calling out in a subdued voice, "Chugger, are you there, mate? Come out, my little Chugg!"
Her voice fell dead upon her ears, with no echo. She felt very small amid the tall columns of oak, elm and beech. Then her sharp ears began to pick up the odd noise, and she smiled to herself. That would be Chugger, playing one of his little tricks, stalking her mischievously. She decided to hide and turn the tables on him. Swiftly Trimp ran behind a broad bump-gnarled black poplar and was knocked flat by the creature that had been following her. She squeaked in fright at the sight of it.
Chapter 7
The gigantic goshawk took a pace backward, allowing Trimp to rise unsteadily. From its black hooked talons and bright yellow legs up the mighty body, feathered in brown-tipped white plumage, to the mottled headcap, it was the most impressive bird Trimp had ever seen. Twin gleaming gold eyes with savage black pupils stared down at her over a lethally curved beak. The goshawk's voice was rasping, harsh. "What doest thou in my domain, hedgepig?"
Trimp had never been called a hedgepig. Bravely she decided to retaliate, and swallowing hard she adopted a stern tone. "Not that it's any of your business, bird, but I'm searching for my friend, a baby squirrel named Chugger!"
The goshawk twitched his head to one side. He had never been addressed as bird before. "Prithee, have a care, spinedame. I am called Krar the Woodwatcher. None hath called me 'bird' and lived!"
Trimp became bolder. She stared levelly at the goshawk. "Aye, and I'm called Trimp the Rover by those with any manners. None have called me hedgepig and liveder, that goes for spinedame also!"
It was Trimp's turn to take a backward step. She thought Krar was about to eat her, but a moment later she realized that he was actually smiling at her, an unusual occurrence in a hawk.
"Thou art a bold beast, Trimprover. Thine enemies must be few, methinks, or dead. Say again the name of this squirrelmite thou seekest."
"Chugger, but he'll answer to Chugg. He's only a babe."
The forest green was blotted out as Krar spread his colossal wings. He touched Trimp's head with a wingtip. "Do you tarry here, Trimprover, while I make inquiries."
Trimp was knocked flat by the backrush of air as Krar flapped his wings and rose among the tree trunks. Leaves drifted down through a golden shaft of sunlight as he shot like an arrow through the woodland canopy.
Gonff came trotting through the woodland, catching sight of his friend as he hurried in from the opposite direction.
"Ahoy, Martin, no sign of the liddle feller?"
"None, mate. Have y'seen Trimp?"
"Hi, you two, I'm over here!"
Both ran over to where Trimp was sitting with her back against the poplar, picking leaves from her headspikes. Gonff stood, paws akimbo, shaking his head at her.
"Well, missie, this's a nice how d'ye do, us two runnin' ourselves ragged along the streambanks an' through the woods, an' you sittin' here coolin' yore paws, very nice!"
Trimp stood up, brushing herself off. "Actually I'm waiting for word of Chugger at any moment. Now I don't want either of you to be afraid."
Martin looked about and spread his paws wide. "Afraid of what, Trimp?"
She pointed upward. "That!"
Entering the woodland through the hole he had made in the treetops, Krar Woodwatcher zoomed in like a thunderbolt. All three travelers were knocked flat by the wind from his wings as he landed.
Trimp patted one of Krar's talons. "Now you'll have to stop doing that, Krar. It'll injure some poor beast one day. These are my good friends, Martin the Warrior and Gonff, Prince of Mousethieves. Meet Krar Wood watcher, mates. These woodlands belong to him!"
Martin and Gonff gulped and bowed low at the same time. Krar closed both eyes and clacked his beak politely, as goshawks do when greeting friends. He turned to Trimp.
"Thy friend the squirrelmite is taken captive in the talons of laggardly carrioncrows, I fear. Alas, 'tis sad news."
Trimp was about to speak when Gonff silenced her with a wink. The artful Mousethief addressed himself to the goshawk, cleverly using the bird's own antiquated mode of speech.
"Lackaday, sirrah, and thou callest thyself ruler of this fiefdom? Were I in thy place I'd say fie upon myself, methinks, allowing carrion to hold innocent babes in durance. 'Tis not the worthy act of a just lord!"
Much to Martin and Trimp's surprise, the huge goshawk shifted from one leg to the other, his head hanging slightly. "Thou speakest truly, O Mousethief. 'Tis my domain and 'twas fitting I stand chided for lack of vigilance."
Gonff shook his head doubtfully. "I fain would give thee a chance to redeem thyself, lord."
Crouching low, the huge bird spread his wings wide upon the ground, his face a picture of abject misery, his very feathers seeming to droop. "Then truly woe betide me, though I crave a boon from thee, Prince of Mouse-thieves. Give me leave to effect rescue of thy vassal, I beg ye. Grant me this favor and I will be in thy debt from this day henceforth!"
A wave of pity swept over Trimp as she watched Krar, prostrate at Gonff's footpaws. She could not keep from crying out, "Oh, say you will, Gonff. Let him do it!"
The Mousethief folded his paws stubbornly. Turning his back on the goshawk, he winked at Martin and Trimp as he spoke. "Silence, maid, cease thy prattling! For how doth the Prince of Mousethieves know this creature will cleave true unto his word?"
Martin drew his sword. Touching Krar's bowed head with it, he kissed the blade and announced dramatically, "I, Martin of Redwall, do give my pledge and bond that Krar Woodwatcher, lord of this place, will honor thy trust, O Prince. For is he not a warrior born, like myself, and bound in word and deed to protect lesser creatures!"
Gonff paced up and down, as if digesting this statement. Then he placed his footpaw under Krar's beak. "Say where is this place yon foul crows abide?"
A note of hope crept into the goshawk's voice. "Some pines in a clearing, right close to here, O Prince. Thou and thy friends mayst follow me and watch while I free thy servant. But 'tis better it be done soon, for tarrying is unwise, methinks!" He watched avidly as Gonff nodded.
"Mayhap 'tis so. Go then, but hearken, thou hast this warrior to thank for his surety."
A transformation came over the goshawk. He dipped his lethal beak and kissed Gonff's footpaw. "My thanks to thee, O Prince!" Standing tall, Krar spread his immense wings, saluting Martin, who was dwarfed in his shadow. "And my thanks to thee, sire. Karraharrakraaaaaaarrr!"
The goshawk's blood-chilling war cry rang out as he whooshed into the air, bowling the three friends over. Trimp sprang up, pulling leaves from her spines.
"I wish he wouldn't do that! Gonff, how did you know he'd act like that?"
The Mousethief flicked a paw at Martin. "Oh, it was easy. 1 know how warriors thinkI've lived with one most of my life, haven't I, matey?"
Martin tweaked his friend's tail. "Cut the chatter or we'll lose sight of Krar!"