Standing waist-deep in the shallow river, Graypatch eyed the lines of crew and oarslaves either side of the banks. He raised his sword, bringing it down with a splash into the water as he yelled, "Pull! Pull! Bend yer backs an' curse yer mothers! Pull, I say!"

Grunting and sweating, the crew heaved on the taut ropes across their shoulders, digging their claws into the sand for purchase.

"Pull, you 'orrible seasc.u.m, pull! You couldn't drag a worm out o' bed between the lot of yer. Pull!"

The ropes creaked and groaned as Darkqueen began to move forward, fraction by agonizing fraction. Gray-patch waded from the river and took a place at the head of the port rope.

"Hoho! She's movin', me lazy lads. Pull, pull as if you were pullin' buckets o' dark wine from a barrel. Pull!"

Darkqueen had moved twice her own considerable length when the river shallowed out drastically, and she buried her nose in a sandbank.

Bigfang threw down the rope. Followed by many others, he waded into the river and began drinking the fresh running water.

114.

Graypatch drew his sword in high bad temper and began bellowing hoa.r.s.ely, "Get out of there, you worthless idlers! Get back on your ropes, you frog-hearted, backbitin', jelly-clawed slackers. I'll carve the hide from your bones. I'll strangle every jackrat of yer. I'll Across the open sea, just beyond the tideline, Garrtail's ship Greenfang was bearing down on them under full sail!

"Mariel, your name is Mariel, daughter of Joseph the Bellmaker."

The mousemaid hauled her Gullwhacker in from the infirmary window, where it had hung to dry. She swung it experimentally, nodding with satisfaction at the clean knotted hemp.

"I know my name, Dandin. And I know my father's name. I can remember everything now. Stand aside."

Dandin and Saxtus followed her down the stairs, across Great Hall, into the Abbey kitchens. Mariel picked up an empty floursack and shook it out. She started packing it with any food to paw. Saxtus nibbled his paw agitatedly. "What are you doing, Mariel?"

The mousemaid continued filling the sack. "Packing rations, Saxtus."

Friar Alder and his young a.s.sistant c.o.c.kleburr came bustling up.

"Hi there, young missy. What do you think you're up to?"

Mariel tested the weight of the sack and threw it across her shoulder. "Borrowing some supplies, Friar. Don't worry, I'll repay them."

Friar Alder held out a restraining paw. "Now, hold on a moment, please."

Mariel grasped Gullwhacker tightly. "Stay out of my way, Friar, please. You have all been very kind to me at Redwall and I would hate to harm any Abbey crea- ture, but there's something I've got to do-and n.o.beast will stop me."

c.o.c.kleburr hopped up and down, stumbling on his ap.r.o.n. "Walloping winters, Friar. Get out the way. I've seen her use that Gullywhacker thing!"

Dandin jumped between the Friar and Mariel. "Violence is no answer, Mariel. We are creatures of peace. It's wrong to offer harm to a Redwaller."

The mousemaid shook her head. "Don't you understand, Dandin? I don't wish to harm any creature in this Abbey, but I have scores to settle with my enemies. Look, just let me go and leave me alone, will you."

"Oh, and what do you plan to do then, Storm Gullwhacker?"

Mariel turned. Standing in front of the great oven was Mother Mellus, accompanied by the Abbot, Simeon and Tarquin.

"My name's not Storm Gullwhacker, it's Mariel," she said defiantly.

Blind Simeon tapped his way forward until he touched her sleeve. "Then start acting like Mariel and not behaving like the old Storm Gullwhacker. We are trying to help you, child."

Mariel looked at the floor. "Don't need any help."

"Not true, Mariel." There was a touch of firmness in Mellus's voice as she interrupted. "Every creature needs help. How do you suppose we live here in harmony together? By helping each other. This Abbey was not built by one creature; it needed cooperation and help. Tell me, where do you think you are going with a knotted rope in a borrowed habit carrying a sack of stolen food?"

Suddenly Mariel felt helpless in the face of all this peaceful opposition. The sack slipped from her paw as she brushed away a threatening teardrop.

Tarquin saved the situation by throwing a rangy paw about her shoulders. "Come on, old gel. Chin up an' never say boo to a goose, wot? Tell you what we'll do- 116.

let's tootle over to that dusty old gatehouse place an' hold a council o' war. Get the stew sorted from the dumplin's, eh?"

Abbot Hubert slipped Mariel a clean kerchief and stood in front of her as she scrubbed at her eyes.

"Splendid idea, Tarquin. A good sensible talk never hurt any creature. Come on, we'll all go together. Many heads are better than one."

The gatehouse proved far too dusty and cramped, so they sat on the low steps in the shade of the west rampart. The Abbot ordered lunch to be sent out to them, with cold mint and rose cordial.

Mother Mellus folded her paws. "Now, where exactly do you plan on going?"

"Terramort Isle." Mariel's answer was loud and clear.

"Do you know how to get there, or where it is?"

"No, but don't worry, I'll find it myself."

Simeon chuckled. "As the blind squirrel said, reaching for a cloud."

Mariel bristled. "What does that mean, that I'm stupid!"

"Don't be silly," Tarquin interrupted. "Oh, haha, I say, 'scuse me. Lunch, chaps. Here comes lunch!"

As they sat eating, the Abbot gave Mariel a friendly wink. "Simeon didn't mean anything. All he said really was that you need help. I think the first thing to do is to find out where Terramort Isle is; at least that will be a start. Has anyone ever heard of Terramort in the past, any mention from travelers, scrolls, books, old rhymes -anything at all?"

"I think I may be of some help there." Brother Hubert had been eavesdropping on the conference from the door of the gatehouse. He wandered over cleaning dust from his spectacles. "Hmm, is that food I see? I think I'll join you."

Seating himself comfortably, he began helping himself to cheese, bread and cold cider.

117.

Simeon coughed politely. "Ahem! I don't suppose that you've ever heard of Terramort, Hubert?"

Brother Hubert blinked over the top of his spectacles. "On the contrary, as soon as I heard the name it brought to mind a young mouse who should have been learning the precepts of Redwall Abbots in bygone days. Yes, he thought I was dozing and he began leafing through the scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler ..."

Tarquin hastily swallowed a redcurrant m.u.f.fin. "Fieldroan! Well, there's a thing! My Father Lorquin knew him, of course. Old Fieldroan had more seasons to gray his hairs than a hedgehog has spikes when he and the jolly old pater were chums. D'y'know, I thought I recognized that poem young Saxtus recited at the feast-know bits of it m'self. Blow me if it isn't one of Fieldroan's very own rhymes!"

Brother Hubert sniffed severely. "Indeed. Well, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, Fieldroan was a compulsive traveler. I met him one winter and sheltered him in the gatehouse through half a season of deep snow. He left some of his scrolls with me because they were becoming too bulky to carry about on his journeys."

This time it was Dandin's turn to interrupt. "Where are they, Brother Hubert? Do you have them?"

"Patience, young mouse, patience. I'll have to search them out. Unfortunately my gatehouse has become a little, ahem, untidy of late."

Leaving the meal half finished, everybody hurried to the gatehouse, intent on being the first to discover the scrolls. Brother Hubert scurried about in alarm.

"Don't touch anything. You don't know my storage system, any of you. Valuable writings could be lost, my collating disturbed ..."

"You old fraud, Hubert," Simeon chuckled. "Your system is nothing but layers of dust. Even I can feel that at a single touch. Don't worry, friend. By the time 118.

we're finished we'll free the gatehouse of rubbish and dust and provide you with a proper tidy system. I think everything will have to be moved out here onto the lawn. It's the only way we'll find anything from that jumble."

Midafternoon saw the sunlit lawn dotted with piles of ma.n.u.scripts, books, scrolls, parchments and pamphlets. Covered in dust, the friends sat by the wall, sipping cold mint and rose cordial.

Saxtus shook his head for the umpteenth time. "No, it wasn't any of that lot. I'd know them the moment I saw them."

Bagg and Runn sat on top of the wallstairs, laughing and giggling. "Hoheeheehee. . . . Whoohahaha. What a bunch of dustbags!"

Brother Hubert tried to ignore them. "Yes, I'd recognize those scrolls instantly myself ..."

"Teeheeheehee! Rec'nize them himself. . . . Yahah-ahaha!" They rolled about on the ramparts, kicking their legs in the air and wiping tears of merriment from their eyes as they went into fresh gales of laughter.

Mariel liked the fun-loving otter twins, but this was neither the time nor the place for fun and games. "Hi, you two," she called up to them. "Are you both sitting on a feather, or is it just a mad fit of the giggles?"

Bagg and Runn were laughing too much to answer. They fell about, slapping their paws down against the wall top and shaking their heads from side to side. The laughter was so infectious that Mariel and Saxtus began chuckling, and even Brother Hubert could not suppress a dry smile.

Simeon turned his sightless eyes toward the walltop. "Now then, you young villains. What's so funny? Let us in on the joke, please."

Bit by bit the story came out from the laughing twins.

"Woohoohoo! You're all lookin' for scrolls. . . . Hohoho!"

119.

"And you've. . . . Teeheehee! Shifted everythin' out of the gatehouse. Haha!"

"Yahahaha! But when you started carryin' all that stuff out. Ohohoho!"

"Br-Br-. Brother Hubert. . . . He-he. . . . Heeheehee! Gave old scrolls to Simeon t' stick under the gatehouse door an' keep it open. Hawhawhawhaw!"

"An' I said to Bagg. . . . Ohoohoohoo! S'pose they're the scrolls that everyone's lookin' for. Ahaahaahoho-hoheehee!"

Simeon turned his face to Brother Hubert, who looked guiltily toward the Abbot, who shook his head in disbelief. He was about to say something to Mariel, but the mousemaid was already at the gatehouse door, easing the flattened bundle of scrolls from under it.

"It's them, all right-the scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler."

Rubbing dust and sweat from his brow, Dandin nudged Hubert. "Well, at least your gatehouse got a good free tidy-out, Brother!"

Smiles broke into chuckles, which gave way to open laughter all around.

Sister Sage shook a quilt out at the infirmary window and began folding it neatly as she reached for her feather duster.

"Well, it's nice to know that all some creatures have to do is sit out on the Abbey lawn in the sunshine and laugh all afternoon, I must say!"

120.

Graypatch drew his sword, waving it and roaring as he waded from the stream. "Now we'll see what yer made of, you sons of searats! Catch 'em in the shallows afore they're ash.o.r.e an' ma.s.sacre every rat of 'em. Sharp now. It's our necks or theirs. Charge, me buckos. Charge!"

The Creenfang had sailed into sh.o.r.e as close as Garrtail could take her. She listed slightly in the shallows then settled askew. Garrtail had his crew ready. Lining the rails, they gripped weapons between their teeth and waited his order as Graypatch's rats thundered across the sands.

Garrtail vaulted over the side, landing chest deep in the sea. "Follow me, lucky lads. It's booty for all aplenty when we've slain that load o' turncoats an' traitors. Over the side, all of yer!"

Quick thinking and speed had given the advantage to Graypatch. His searats were at the water's edge as Garrtail's crew came over the rails of the Creenfang.

Wading out, Graypatch called over his shoulder, "Keep to the shallows. Don't go too deep, lads, but hold Garrtail's sc.u.m in the deeper waters where they can't fight so good. Bigfang, get back to the Darkqueen. Kybo, you go with him. Get hold of any long boathooks 121.

or pikes you can find. Look lively now -I'm not goin' back to Terramort with me head in the bows an' me body in the stern for Gabool to gloat over!"

Garrtail was out ahead of his crew. Realizing the urgency of the situation, he waded and cursed as he made his way toward Graypatch.

"Come an' fight, you frog-livered schemer. I'll carve you to fishbait!"

Graypatch balanced an iron marlinspike in his claw. Taking careful aim, he flung it. The pointed missile hissed out across the rippling waves. Standing almost chest-deep in the water, Garrtail had little chance to dodge or leap out of the way; it caught him between the eyes. The Captain of the Greenfang fell backward into the sea, slain instantly. His crew, on seeing their leader dead, milled about in the water betwixt ship and sh.o.r.e. All heart for the fight had deserted them now they were without a Captain.

"Ahoy, Graypatch. Lookit what we found!"

Bigfang and Kybo came splashing into the shallows with two galley slaves, all four laden with pikes, long boathooks and bows and arrows. Graypatch snapped out swift orders, his clever brain working fast.

"Kybo, you stay here with half the crew as archers. Keep pouring arrows at 'em, hard as you can -fire high over the pikers. Bigfang, take the other half of the crew and wade a bit deeper. Stick any of the Greenfang crew who try to get ash.o.r.e an' circle behind us. Deadglim, give me yer burnin' gla.s.s an' a bow 'n' arrows."

With its unanch.o.r.ed keel sc.r.a.ping gently off the sea bottom, the Greenfang began a slow drift away from sh.o.r.e with the outgoing tide. The crew split two ways, some trying to swim back to ship, the other, bolder spirits wading toward sh.o.r.e, yelling as they thrust their swords at the pikerats.

Kybo and the archers had easy targets, arching their arrows over the top of the pikers into the unprotected backs of those who were swimming to the ship. Their 122.

screams mingled with the angry yells of those with pitifully short swords, trying to do battle with long pikes and boathooks.

On sh.o.r.e, Graypatch had soaked rags in lamp oil and bound them around arrowpoints. In the hot sun it was the work of a moment with a burning gla.s.s to concentrate the sunrays into flame upon oil-soaked rags. Kybo followed behind, carrying the fire arrows as Graypatch waded out, testing the wind to make sure it was with him. The first arrow blurred high over the heads of the searats like a red comet, arcing into the big mainsail of Greenfang. Two others followed swiftly. One stood quivering in the stern, the other burying itself deep into the mast.

Graypatch amused himself by firing the remaining fire arrows at the helpless rats who were still trying to swim for the ship. He laughed aloud as one wretched creature sank with a sizzle and a scream. All around, the water ran red with blood as the breeze stirred the flames to a roaring inferno. Bodies of the wounded and the slain followed the blazing Greenfang out on the ebbing tide. Graypatch, his single eye illuminated red in the glare, called out, "Make sure there's none left alive to tell the tale, mates. Haharr, Gabool will never know what happened to us an' the Darkqueen, or Garrtail an' the Greenfang. D'ye hear me, Gabool! Blast yer eyes, lungs 'n' liver, wherever ye are!"

As the searats waded ash.o.r.e, Bigfang muttered to Kybo, "Graypatch is gettin' too big fer his seaboots, matey. There'd be no victory today if I hadn't found those bows an' arrows, mark my words."

Kybo agreed wholeheartedly, though under his breath. "Aye, did y'see him there, yellin' an a screamin' to kill Greenfang's crew down t' the last rat? I'll bet some o' those buckos would've joined us. We all had mateys among that crew, but they're gone to h.e.l.lgates now."

Bigfang flung his pike upon the sands. "Right you 123.

are, shipmate. I think we've a come out o' the frypan into the fire here. Graypatch is startin' to act up as wild as Gabool. Did ye hear the way he was yellin' at me fer drinkin' water earlier? I take that from no searat, Captain or not. Still, we'll bide our time, eh, matey."

Graypatch wandered over and slapped Kybo with the flat of his swordblade. "C'mon, gullywhumper. Back aboard the Darkqueen. We can afford to wait the night floodtide to send us across the sh.o.r.e now. No more pullin' her on towropes."

Kybo turned to look at the last of the Greenfang, wiping smoke from his smarting eyes as the blazing hulk drifted seaward.