"Listen t'me, laddie buck. One more word from you an' I'll whack you over the cheeky snout with a loaded sling. Here, what was that blinkin' noise?"
The "blinkin' noise" was Zwilt's swordpoint hitting the door with a thud. Rambuculus glared accusingly at Diggs. "That was you slammin' the door. Nearly took it off its flippin' hinges. No need for that sort o' thing!"
Ambrevina ignored the squabbling pair. Hearing the distant noise of conflict, she set off over the back lawns. "Sounds like there's trouble at the front wall--come on!"
Zwilt stood stock-still, his swordpoint still stuck in the door timbers. He waited until the pawsteps inside receded, then began levering his weapon free.
One of the Ravagers, a lean river rat, commented, "Another wink of an eye an' ye'd have got 'em, Lord. 'Twas a close thing." His voice trailed into silence as Zwilt fixed him with a basilisk stare.
"Shut up and get the ropes and grapnels fixed. We'll go in the way I planned."
Vilaya watched from the cover of an elm trunk, with new schemes hatching within her conniving mind. She craved revenge, wanting to slay Zwilt... and yet. He had a horde of Ravagers attacking the Abbey from the front, and he himself was forming a secret entrance from the rear. It was a plot worthy of the tall sable, of any sable. What if he conquered Redwall? Would it not be better to kill him then?
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This would give her back command of the Ravagers, plus make her the new ruler of this magnificent Abbey.
Two pairs of grapnel irons, thrown by the vermin, clanked onto the battlements. Tossing his cloak to one of the guards, Zwilt grabbed a rope in either paw. Using his footpaws against the joints in the sandstone, he hauled himself energetically up to the walltop. He was followed by his escort of four, who wasted no time scaling the ropes.
Vilaya watched them disappear from view, pulling the ropes up after them. Any opportunity of entering Redwall from its east side was gone. The Sable Quean skulked off through the woodland, intent on assessing the attack on the west wall. No doubt it would present further chances of attaining her goal.
Meanwhile the battle at the front had begun. Fallug sent almost a hundred Ravagers forward with the battering ram and met with his first hurdle: the ditch. Beneath its cover of leafy-boughed framework, the front of the war machine dipped sharply as the front carriers, shoved on by those behind them, tumbled into the ditch. Yells of scorn rang out from the walltops, accompanied by many missiles.
Buckler shouted out a command. "Don't waste weapons on that thing--they're sheltered under the cover. Get down, everybeast, they're shooting back!"
Arrows, slingstones and javelins rained up at the defenders from the vermins' ground force. In the midst of all this, Diggs arrived with Ambrevina at his side. He threw a crouching salute to his comrade.
"Subaltern Diggs an' jolly large friend reportin' for duty, sah. I say, are we late for midmornin' snack, or early for a bite o' lunch, wot?"
Buckler grinned at his irrepressible friend. "Sorry, bucko, but we've got a war on our paws, or didn't you notice? Vittles will have to wait until later." He thrust a paw of welcome at the huge badgermaid. "I'm Buckler Kordyne. Sorry I haven't had the pleasure of meetin' ye, marm!"
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He grimaced as the badger returned his paw shake.
"I'm Ambrevina Rockflash from the Eastern Shores. I met up with Diggs back at Althier."
A javelin clattered on the walkway beside Diggs. Seizing it, he leapt up and hurled it back. His aim was greeted with a scream from a Ravager. Diggs ducked back down again.
"Oops, sorry. Haven't made my flippin' report yet. We found the young uns, all safe an' unhurt. At the moment, they're with old wotsername, the waterthingy Mumzy. You'll be pleased t'know they're all fit an' fat as bumblebees. Or at least they jolly well will be when she's finished feedin' their little faces!"
Buckler clapped his friend's back soundly. "That's great news, Diggs--we couldn't have asked for better. Ahoy, down there, Trajidia, run an' give the word to the ladies, your mum, Jango's wife, Furm, an' Clarinna. Tell them the babes are safe an' well!"
Diggs interrupted. "I say, Traji, ole gel, don't forget to report who it was that saved 'em--meself an' this fine badgermaid, Ambry. Any rewards in the shape of vittles by the cartload will be acceptable, wot!"
Trajidia skipped off blithely, shouting the news to all. "Rejoice, rejoice! Our lost infants are found and will soon be restored to their beloved kinbeasts! They will sleep in their own little beds once again!"
Some of the vermin had clambered out of the ditch and scrambled back to report the disaster to Fallug. The weasel whom he had promoted to captain, Grakk, shook his head.
"Zwilt ain't goin' t'like this, Chief!"
Fallug peered across at the ram. It lay at an odd angle, its point dipping down into the ditch. "I knows wot Zwilt ain't goin' t'like. Can't ye lift it over that ditch?"
Grakk shook his head. "We could if'n we wasn't under attack, Chief, but every time we shows our faces out in the
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open, we takes a right poundin' off those beasts on the walltop. An' another thing--have ye seen the pile o' rubble they've tipped in front o' the gate? Take my word, it'd take us ten seasons to try an' charge a ram through that liddle lot! So, wot's yore orders, Chief? Wot d'we do now?"
Fallug sat on the ground scratching at his tail. Zwilt's plan had fallen flat, and he would either have to find a solution or answer to Zwilt on his return. Irately, he stalled for time. "Gimme time t'think up a plan, will ye. I don't like bein' rushed!"
Grakk shrugged. "Alright, but wot do I tell all these Ravagers t'do while yore thinkin', Chief?"
A sudden ghost of an idea flashed into Fallug's head. "Call the ram crews off. Tell 'em to join up with the slingers an' archers. Don't stop attackin', keep the Redwallers' 'eads down, pepper the walltop an' don't stop. Once it goes dark, we'll make our move."
Grakk smiled slyly. "An' wot'll that be, Chief?" Fallug leapt up, shaking with temper. "It ain't none o' yore business. You just carry out orders, see!"
Zwilt and his four Ravagers had concealed themselves in the deserted orchard. The tall sable knew he could not make a move until the attack, and the battering ram, were fully underway. Chewing on a near-ripe russet apple, he watched from a spot where he could see the defenders on the west wall. They were all able-looking beasts. Two hares, two big hedgehogs, a brawny otter and a fair number of armed Guosim shrews and Abbeybeasts. Added to that was a solid-looking mole armed with a war hammer and, finally, the huge young badger. Anybeast with only four at his command would be committing suicide going against such odds. However, Zwilt was growing impatient. He flung the half-eaten apple from him. What were Fallug and all those other Ravagers up to? Why could he not hear the booming thuds of a battering ram pounding the Abbey gates? Had something gone amiss with his plan?
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The tall sable turned to his vermin escort, explaining his next move, to avoid any mistakes. "Listen carefully. I need to know what's happening on the other side of the west wall. The only way I see of doing that is to get inside the Abbey. I can look out one of those high windows. From there I'll be able to judge what's happening at the main gate. You four follow me. There should be hardly anybeast inside--they're all out on the walls--but we'll take no chances. Go quietly, keep your eyes open and guard my back."
Avoiding the front door of the Abbey building, they explored the south side, where Zwilt found a window with its shutters open. Judging by the mouthwatering aromas emanating from it, this could be only one place, the kitchens. Nobeast seemed to be in attendance. It was the work of a moment for all five creatures to slip inside.
Even in the present situation, it was far too tempting to ignore the food laid out there. Realising how hungry he was, Zwilt posted one of his Ravagers at the door. He fell on the food like a wild beast, as did his escort. Pasties, bread, pies and scones, still warm from the ovens, were laid out to cool on the worktops. With scant regard for choice, they grabbed anything at random, cramming their mouths full, spitting out what they could not gulp down, moving from one thing to another, knocking over platters and trays of food.