"Well, don't go shoutin' it all around the Abbey, but it's me."

Song stifled a giggle at Dann's reluctant confession. "You? I never knew you were called flower?"

Dann looked defiant. "Twas my mother's idea. Dad wanted me named Dannblood, said it was a proper warrior's name, but Mum wouldn't hear of it, she insisted I be called Dannflower. So that's my real name, but Dad an' me shortened it to Dannflor after my mother died. Well, Song, you carry the greenstick an' yore a warrior's daughter. Dipp, you got the rapier, that's a shortsword, so that's the three of us, even though we ain't Chieftains. Who the fourth is, the one who lives by water, huh, who knows? But 'tis plain we three must go!"

Dippler brightened up as the poem's meaning began to sink in. "Aye, Redwall's heart is the tapestry. I understand now, mates. We've got to leave the Abbey before dawn!"

Song interrupted the young Guosim excitedly. "Of course! Listen, here's the first few lines from an old song, one of the first I ever learned, called 'Daybreak.'"

"Before the herald lark, Ere night's last teardrop falls, Like dewdrop from a rose, The rising Minstrel calls . ..

"That's the first bit. Oh dear, I wonder why we've got to go with none to bid us farewell?"

Dann snorted mirthlessly at his friend's innocence. "'Tis obvious. 'Cos they'd stop us, that's why. Huh, imagine my father, he'd say we were off to play some silly games. Then there's yore mum'n'dad an' Grandma Ellayod'you think they'd be pleased to see you wanderin' off into a woodland full o' water rats, Marlfoxes an' who knows wot else?"

Song nodded ruefully. "They'd stop us for sure!"

Dann reached up carefully and took down the sword from its pins on the wall. Martin the Warrior's weapon felt like wildfire in his paws. He held the black-bound grip with its red pommel stone and crosstree hilt, feeling the perfect balance of the lethally sharp blade. Double-edged, strangely chased and patterned down to the perilous tip, keen as an icicle honed by midwinter gales.

Song and Dippler touched their paws to the sword as Dann's voice sounded firm and resolute. "We bring the tapestry back to Redwall Abbey!"

Dippler looked from one to the other. "An' if I can I'll avenge my Chieftain Log a Log!"

Song smiled at them both. "I go with you because you are my friends!"

Dann picked up a broad old belt from the shelf and fastened it across one shoulder to his waistbelt. He thrust the sword through the broad belt, so that it was flat across his back, the hilt showing above his other shoulder.

"Well, what are we waitin' for, mates? 'Twill be dawn soon. Come on!"

Act 2

Four Chieftans Going Forth

Chapter 14.

Camouflaged by the morning suntinged leaves of a horse chestnut tree, the Marlfox Mokkan sat in a fork amid the high branches, watching the scene below on the stream-bank, listening carefully to all that was said. He was cunning and highly intelligent, always cautious to know which way the wind was blowing among his brothers and sisters. Accordingly Mokkan had made it back to the camp shortly after dawn, and finding that he was first to return he hid in the tree and watched the reactions as the rest filtered back to the camp in small groups. First to arrive were Ascrod and Vannan with the rats Dakkle and Beelu. They draped the tapestry over some bushes, prepared a scratch meal and sat back to gloat over their plunder. Predak the vixen came next, heading a group of rats, followed by her brother Gelltor at the head of a second band. Cooking fires were lit, and some prepared food while others tended their wounds. By the time the sun was fully up the final few had returned. Ascrod and Vannan with their two rats were the stars of the day, proudly showing off the wondrous tapestry.

"How's that for a nice bit o' thievin', eh?"

"Aye, we were right inside that Abbey for a good while, wounded three, killed one, an' trotted off with this beauty!"

"Pity we never had time for a proper look around. I reckon Redwall's stuffed with treasures."

"They're not so tough. I slew a big owl, stupid creature!"

"Huh, the three we laid out are prob'ly dead by now too. I whacked a shrew wearin' armor so hard that my ax paw still tingles."

Ascrod stood over Gelltor, smiling whimsically. "So, how did the attack go? Not too well, by the look of you lot."

Gelltor flexed his shoulder to get the movement back in it. Grim-faced, he spat viciously into the fire. "Allag, what's the head count?"

Farther down the streambank the water rat called back to Gelltor. "A hundred an' seventy-three, sire. I'm just numberin' the wounded."

Gelltor lay back, watching the blue-gray campfire smoke wreathing among the shafts of sunlight between the trees. "That's nearly a score of rats lost. Then there was Ziral too!"

Vannan tossed aside her food and stood upright. "What? You mean our sister Ziral was slain?"

"Oh, she was slain sure enough. I saw her head lyin' on the ground. The one who did it was a big squirrel, looked as if he was half asleep. Janglur, they called him. I'll remember that one's name!"

Ascrod stroked the tasseled tapestry border thoughtfully. "A Marlfox slain. High Queen Silth won't be well pleased to hear that. What about our glorious leader Mokkan and his grand plan?"

Gelltor kicked a branch hanging from the fire, sending sparks showering as the dead pine crackled. "Mokkan! Don't talk t'me about him. He left it too late for a quick ambush, wanted to stand round chattin' with the Redwallers. It was them who attacked us. There's no doubt about it, they got some fierce warriors an' they were quick too. For a while there we thought we had 'em, they were outnumbered. But then we were hit from behind by gangs of those Guosim shrews, don't know where they came from. That was when we lost the advantage. Next thing Mokkan's yelling for everybeast to retreat, and we had to run for it like a ragtailed bunch of amateurs. I'm not surprised Mokkan hasn't shown his face around camp yet. Bungler!"

As Gelltor finished speaking, Mokkan hobbled into camp, bent almost double and limping badly, his face creased with pain. He held up a paw for silence before any creature could speak further. "All right, all right, 'twas all my fault. I messed it up, by taking those Redwallers for fools, which they weren't. But hear me! You all fought a gallant fight. I couldn't ask for braver beasts in my command, particularly you, brother Gelltor, and you, sister Predak . . ." Here he paused for effect, shaking his head sadly. "And our dear sister Ziral, so treacherously slain after I had called retreat. How can I go back to our mother Queen Silth and tell her that poor Ziral is with us no more? Gelltor, you were right, brother. I should have listened to you."

The Marlfoxes were slightly bewildered. Mokkan had never spoken like this before, but had always been arrogant and imperious. Vannan tapped the handle of her ax against the tapestry. "It wasn't a total loss. Look what we took from the Abbey."

Mokkan had been looking at the thing for over an hour from the tree limb. But he put on an expression of awed astonishment and approached the object reverently. "You stole this? Wondrous, beautiful, it must be beyond price! Well, congratulations to you. Our mother will be overjoyed to see such a splendid and magnificent prize. At least poor Ziral didn't give her life in vain. But remember what she said here only a day ago. Blood calls for blood. It is the code of Marlfoxes, our law. Redwall and its creatures must pay dearly for our sister!"

Gelltor drew his ax and brandished it in Mokkan's face. "Like I said at first, we should have gone to war!"

Mokkan sat down by the fire with agonizing slowness, biting his lip. "Aye, brother, you were right, I was the fool. Now I am sorely wounded and unfit to lead. Leave a few good rats here with me so that we may guard your plunder. I need rest, I may never walk again with these injuries. Split our forces up between the four of you and take vengeance upon those Redwall scum. Go quickly, before they become confident and begin combing the woodlands for our blood. Surround Redwall Abbey, kill them one by one, with the cunning that is the pawmark of a Marlfox. Snipe at them, starve them by keeping them penned up inside their Abbey, make them prisoners inside their own home!"

Gelltor's eyes lit up, fired by plans of conquest. "We'll besiege them until they crawl out begging to be spared! Then I'll execute the one that wounded me and we'll take revenge on the squirrel Janglur for Ziral's death. Those whom we spare can be dragged back to our island in chains, to serve us!"

Mokkan clasped his brother's paw with feigned fervor. "Ah, ever the wise warrior, Gelltor. But you must hurry and set up your siege while they are unaware of your brilliant plan!"

Within a short time the army was ready to march again, each of the Marlfoxes commanding twoscore water rats apiece, while Mokkan stayed behind to recover and protect the tapestry with a guard comprising the thirteen remaining rats. Mokkan lay back as if he had fainted away, listening keenly to Vannan murmuring instructions to the water rat Beelu. "I leave you here to guard our prize with your life. If Mokkan recovers and tries anything odd, you must hide the tapestry and make your way to Redwall, where you will report to me only!" As the army marched out of camp, Mokkan turned on his side, chuckling under his breath. "Never trust a vixen."

It was close to noontide when Song called a halt at a shady glade in the Mossflower depths. "This looks like a good spot for our lunch. There's some fat juicy berries on those blackberry brambles round the dead oak."

Dippler unshouldered the pack he had loaded from the kitchens. "Lunch? What 'appened to brekkfist, miss? An' jus' one other thing, when d'we sleep? Last time I closed me lids was when I was knocked unconscious. We missed a full night's shut-eye, y'know!"

Song threw her haversack down and began picking blackberries. "Oh, give your little face a rest, Dipp, stop moaning!"

Dann took off his sword and foodpack and sat down gratefully. "Dipp's not moanin', Song, he's arguing. Guosim shrews aren't happy unless they've got something to argue about, right, Dipp?"

The young shrew opened his haversack, fishing out three of Brother Melilot's newbaked scones and a slab of cheese, which he cut into three pieces with his rapier. "I'm not arguin' or moanin'. It's called debatin'. That's 'ow us Guosim get t'be so wise, by debatin'."

Song aimed a berry at him, but Dippler ducked it. "You greedy little hog, I notice you've given yourself the biggest slice o' cheese an' the largest scone!"

Dippler grinned, popping the blackberry Song had thrown into his mouth. "But I need extra vittles, so I can grow big'n'strong'n'stronger, like you two. If I gave you the big bits then you'd both grow bigger'n'stronger an' I'd be liddle'n'thin!"

Song prodded his small round stomach as she passed. "Thin, huh? You're about as thin as a hedgehog who's been locked in a larder for two seasons!"

Dann opened a flask of pennycloud cordial. "Will you two pack in debatin' an' let me have lunch in peace?"

Song watched Dippler split open his scone. He packed the inside with blackberries, closed it and bit into the whole thing so enthusiastically that juice squirted out from either side.

Dann flicked drops of it from his nose. "You greedy savage, you'll never grow any taller, just rounder an' fatter. Don't you Guosim have any table manners?"

Dippler shrugged as he crammed cheese into his mouth. "Mm mm. Course we don't, 'cos Guosim never use tables. How'd y'get a table on a logboat? We got shrew manners, though."

Song wiped her lips daintily on a dockleaf. "And what, pray are shrew manners?"

Dippler glugged down cordial to clear his voice. "Simple, 'tis one o' the first things a shrewbabe learns. Listen.

"If you eat too much you'll sink the boat, Burst yore boots an' split yore coat, Just scoff enough so you stay afloat, 'Tis manners, good manners!

If you pinch the vittles from another's plate, Wait till he's lookin' the other way, mate, An' when fish are bitin', don't eat the bait, 'Tis manners, good manners!

If yore a shrew o' the Guosim clan, You must be sure to think of a plan, To share yore matey's pudden or flan, 'Tis manners, good manners!

Remember to chew everythin' in sight, If it don't bite back, then get first bite, An' always take a basinful to bed each night, 'Tis manners, good manners!"

Song was chuckling so hard she nearly choked on a bite of scone. Dann sent Dippler sprawling with a playful shove. "Away, you rogue, your mother never taught you that lot!"

Dippler stole a piece of Song's cheese as he patted her back to restore her breath. He winked cheekily at Dann. "I don't dispute that, mate, I made it up meself!"

"Ssshh! What's that? Get down!"

At Dann's urgent whisper the three friends dropped down behind the fallen oak trunk. There they stayed, silent and motionless, for several moments, after which Song stood up slowly. "What was it you heard, Dann?"

The young squirrel rose, turning his head this way and that as he tried to pick up a trace of the sound he had heard. "I don't know, I heard something, but 'tis gone now."

Not much farther out from where the three were sitting, Gelltor, Predak, Ascrod and Vannan passed with the army of water rats, traveling in the opposite direction, toward Redwall Abbey, to begin their assault.

Dippler finished up the remains of any food his friends had not eaten. Dann shouldered his pack and sword, weighing up the woodland surrounding them. "Which way now, Song?"

The young squirrelmaid walked to the east end of the glade where they had camped. Using the knowledge her father had passed on during their wanderings, she cast about carefully. "This way, I think. The ferns have been disturbed, see, one or two are brokengrass looks flattened too. Ha! Look at this."

Hanging from a broken hornbeam spur was a strand of red thread. Dippler and Dann studied it as Song voiced her thoughts. "That's from the tapestry. At a guess I'd say it was being carried shoulder high by two or more creatures. See here amid the grass, one of them stumbled on this blackberry creeper and narrowly missed walking into the hornbeam tree, but the heavy roll of tapestry they were carrying snagged on that broken branch. They've gone this way."

Dippler wrapped the thread around his paw. "Stupid vermin, they're leavin' a trail a blind moth could follow!"

Dann pressed forward, calling back to the shrew. "Marlfoxes aren't stupid, Dipp. Y'must remember that they were running with a weighty object, it was still dark, an' maybe they thought Redwallers might give chase. Stands t'reason they'd want to put as much space between themselves an' the Abbey as possible."

Dippler pushed the bushes aside roughly. "Murderin' thieves. They won't get away from me, matey!"

Song cautioned her friends. "I suggest from now on that we keep our voices down, don't talk unless 'tis necessary, an' tread quietly. Best not leave a trail goodness knows who might follow it."

The vast woodland was unusually still and silent, even the sporadic birdsong sounding as if it came from far away. Moving quietly eastward through the dense undergrowth, Song and her companions became cautious, realizing that behind the beauty of stately trees and summer-flowering bushes, danger might lurk in the shape of the foebeast.

At Redwall Abbey a brief ceremony had been held over the resting place within the southwest wallcorner. Four shrews, Elachim the Noonvale otter, Nutwing and Log a Log were honored with small gifts, flowers and verses. Friar Butty sighed heavily, wiping his eyes on a spotted kerchief as they walked back to the Abbey, where Deesum and Brother Melilot were preparing lunch. Skipper spoke loud enough for all to hear.

"When we get time, there'll be a good stone marker carved for our pore mates back there, so they'll never be forgot by Redwallers. But fer now, messmates, let's git back t'the business of livin' an' survivin'. Janglur, Borrakul, mister Florian an' meself will move Cregga Badgermum out o' the gate'ouse an' up to 'er room. Bargle, will you an' yore Guosim guard the walls? Arm yoreselves with slings an' bows'n'arrers. Runktipp, stow yoreself in the belltower, an' if the shrews tip y'the signal that vermin are about, be ready to toll the alarm bells. Roop an' Muggle, will yer be kind enough to 'elp Gubbio Foremole an' Sister Sloey check on the wounded."

Sloey fussed with her apron distractedly. "Oh dear, what with lookin' after the Dibbuns an' gettin' things tidy I almost forgot about our injured ones. Still, a good quiet rest's what they need most. We'll take them up some lunch soon as 'tis ready."

A few minutes later, Florian entered the gatehouse and swept off his big floppy hat with a double flourish at the wounded badger. The friends were determined to cheer Cregga and not let her dwell on her sadness, or her injury.

"Ahem, marm, 'tis only m'goodself Wilffachop come to inform ye that your carriage waits without!"

Cregga turned her face in his direction. She was not in the best of moods after an uncomfortable night. "I know 'tis you, hare, and stop waving that hat about, you'll disturb the dust an' have me sneezin'. Now, what's all this about a carriage outside? D'you think I'm a helpless Dibbun?"

Janglur nudged Skipper gleefully as he popped his head around the door. He announced in a loud officious voice, as if talking to nobeast in particular, "One actors' cart waitin' to transport a wounded Abbeybeast. Er, is there a passenger in 'ere?"

The big badger struggled upright from the couch, grabbing a broken spearshaft, which she waved threateningly. "Just let anybeast try to get me into a rickety actors' cart an' I'll give 'em a headache they won't get over for ten seasons!"

Janglur clapped a paw to his mouth to stifle laughter, while Skipper called out in a voice dripping with sincerity, "Ho, marm, 'ow can you say such things? All's we're thinkin' of is yore 'ealth. After you've 'ad a nice ride in the cart we'll carry you up to yore room an' let Sister Sloey feed yer on a nourishin' lunch of 'erb broth an' elderflower water."

That was enough for Cregga. A deep rumble of anger burst forth from the mighty badger. Grabbing Florian and lifting him as if he were a babe, she stumped resolutely out of the gatehouse, with the helpless hare protesting volubly.

"I say, marm, bad form, put me down, wot! Don't stand there grinnin' like ticks at a tea party, you chaps, help me!"

Cregga almost walked straight into the cart, which was drawn up just outside the gatehouse door. Feeling its contours with her paw, she dumped Florian unceremoniously into the seat and gave the cart a mighty shove. It flew off across the lawn, with the hare still yelling.

"Most uncharitable of ye, marm! I'll make a note of this peevish behavior, you can jolly well bet I will! Yowch! Heeeeeelp!"

His pleas went unheard as Cregga raised a threatening paw at the other helpers. "If you've got any sense you'll stay clear o' me. I'll walk back to the Abbey alone. Oh, an' you can tell Sloey if she wants to see another season she'd better not mention herb broth an' elderflower water while I'm around. I need proper food an' the comfort of my own room for a day or two!"

Skipper fled past her, tugging Janglur with him. "Put a move on, matey. Dann an' Dippler an' yore Song 'ave taken over Cregga marm's room, so we'd better git there afore she does an' shift those young 'uns out sharpish like!"

Baby Dwopple was wide awake and none the worse after his ordeal. He elbowed his way in between Blinny the molebabe and Florian at the dining table for lunch. "Where a vikkles? I starven!"

The hare rescued his summer salad and apple pie, scowling at Dwopple. "Have a care there, young wretchlet, I need all the nourishment I can lay me flippin' paws on. Recoverin' from a nasty cart accident, y'know. I say, is that beechnut sponge I see? Chuck it this way, will you, m'good mole, wot!"

"I needs feedin' too. I 'scaped! I fighted off those badbeasts! I frighted mista Stickabee . . ."

Cregga felt her way up the stairwell and gave the unlatched door of her room a light push. As it swung open, the badger entered, feeling about with outstretched paws. "Somebeast's there. Come on, who is it?"

Janglur's reply was tinged with foreboding. "Only me'n' Skipper, marm, but I ain't certain wot's goin' on."

Cregga lowered herself into her favorite armchair as he continued.

"Last night my Song was put in 'ere with young Dann an' the shrew Dippler. You 'eard about wot 'appened to 'em, they was injured. But they ain't 'ere no more, an' Skipper sez that Martin's sword is missin' from the wall yonder."

The badger mused over this information for a moment before replying. "Hmm. It sounds a bit strange, but let's not dash into anything. They must be about somewhere, probably still within the Abbey."