Martin the Warrior, page 31
‘Stumptooth, take thirty wounded, four groups of five to supply the walls with arrows, spears and slingstones. Get the other ten to carry the big fishnets to the walltops and drop them over on any large groups. That’ll slow ’em up. Come on, you fighters and hordebeasts, this is our chance to rule the whole country. Slaves, land, plunder, we’ll have it all!’
Ignoring his sore and bandaged paws, the Tyrant snatched a spear from a searat, hurled it coolly and slew a shrew who was trying to climb the gates. ‘See, it’s easy. They die like other creatures. We’ll make the sands run red before nightfall!’
Arrows zipped down from the walltops in dark clouds like angry wasps, tearing into the packed ranks that charged Marshank. Slingstones whirred like flights of small birds, clanging on armour and blade alike in their upward flight.
Rose found Boldred and the Warden on a hillock out of weapon range. The two great birds stood waiting their chance. Boldred greeted the mousemaid.
‘We’d be shot out of the air in the middle of that lot. When it gets dark and the pace slackens, my friend and I will be able to fly in.’
Rose looked out over the mêlée of battle. ‘Where’s Martin? I lost sight of him in the charge.’
The grey heron pointed his beak towards the front gates. ‘He is over there with otters and hedgehogs. They have a piece of timber to batter the gates, but it is not big enough.’
Ballaw came panting up with the remnants of his gallant force. Weary and battle-scarred, the brave hare slumped down in the sand. ‘Phew, what a day, chaps! Rowanoak and m’self pulled our little army out for a breather, wot. Let those other creatures have a crack at the foe, they’re a lot fresher than my gang!’
Rowanoak sat with the owl and the heron, shaking her head. ‘You arrived just in time to save us from being slaughtered on the tideline; thank you. But your charge has been too furious. I am not a warrior or a commander, but I can see that they will never breach those walls by throwing themselves at them.’
The owl blinked as she watched the assault on the fortress. ‘You are right, Rowanoak. Martin seems to be the only one who has any kind of plan, but he is unaware of others when his warrior blood is roused. We need a plan of attack. Badrang is not stupid, he has the advantage of the walls and is using them well. Other creatures less shrewd might have been panicked by our charge; not him, though. He is a cool one in a pinch.’
Ballaw brightened up. ‘That’s it, a plan. Capital! What d’you suggest, marm?’
41
MARTIN LET GO of the shattered remnants of the inadequate chunk of driftwood he and his allies had been using as a battering ram. Drawing his sword, he attacked the gates in a wild rage.
Starwort and Gulba ducked into the shelter of the gates as missiles rained down from above. They tried to restrain Martin. ‘It’s no use, mate, the gates are too strong. Come away!’
Martin hacked and hammered at the stout timbers, oblivious to everything about him. Rose pressed through the chaos, sided by Grumm and Pallum. They forced a way through to the gate. Martin halted at the sight of her, deflecting a broken spear haft with his short sword. ‘Rose, get out of here. It’s too dangerous!’
She picked up the sharp pointed end of the spear boldly. ‘Not without you, Martin. Come with us, you are needed. Starwort, Gulba, you too. We need a proper battle plan, too many creatures are being killed needlessly. We won’t get inside Marshank by charging and milling about willy-nilly. Come!’
It had turned noon when otter drums sounded over the fray. The attackers broke off their charging and retreated back to the sands around the low dune.
Crosstooth shook his spear in the air jubilantly. ‘Yah, they’ve turned tail and run!’
Badrang knew better. He had seen Ballaw’s fighters contacting the leaders – it was a calculated retreat. However, the Tyrant said nothing of this. Imitating Crosstooth, he waved his sword. ‘See, I told you it was easy. Look at them, running like frightened babies now that they’ve had a taste of real fighting from warriors like us, eh lads!’
Gesturing and prancing on the walltops, the horde took up his cry. ‘Haha, had enough, have you? Cowards!’
‘Come back and fight me, I only slew ten!’
‘Ten? I slew two score and I’d have got more of ’em if they hadn’t scurried off in a fright!’
Tramun Clogg left off his grave digging and clambered to the walltop. He sized the situation up immediately. ‘Burn me clogs, buckoes. Yore a bunch of strawheads iffen you think those fighters are runnin’ away. I’d save me breath fer more action iffen I was you lot!’
Whock!
Badrang dealt Clogg a ferocious blow across his head with a long pike he had snatched from Gruzzle. The corsair fell senseless in a heap. Badrang kicked him from the walltop, and Clogg’s unconscious form fell with a thump on to a heap of sand he had excavated. The Tyrant stoat learned on the pike, dismissing his former partner. ‘Don’t listen to that old fool, his brains are all in his clogs. Crosstooth, see that everybeast has extra rations. Stay awake, lads. Maybe they’ll get brave enough to give it another try. I certainly hope so, eh?’
This announcement was greeted with raucous cheers.
While the wounded were treated by Rose and Brome, food was divided up among the groups of creatures seated around the low hillock. Martin sat with the Council of Chieftains as they laid war plans. Rowanoak and Boldred were rocks of good sense, rejecting the wild schemes of hot-headed beasts, considering the suggestions of cooler and wiser creatures.
Queen Amballa had several of her pigmy shrews drag a large square fishing net to the hill. It was made of strong woven kelp. ‘See, Martinmouse, wallbeast throw-this, snarl us up plentygood!’
A Gawtrybe squirrel laughed scornfully. ‘Hehee, good game. They di’n’t catch squirrels, Gawtrybe’s too fast for nets. Heehee!’
Martin sat up alert, the light of idea dawning in his eyes. ‘That’s it! We go in over the walls on two sides when night falls, and use the nets one side, say on the north, while the squirrels take the south wall!’
Starwort’s wife Marigold put down the pitcher she had been drinking from. ‘An’ what’s Badrang’s crew goin’ to be doin’ while all this goes on, ’cos they won’t be sleepin’ or pickin’ their claws.’
Martin pointed across to where the old Rambling Rosehip troupe’s fire-charred cart lay half buried in the sand. ‘Will the wheels on that thing still turn?’
Ballaw shrugged. ‘What d’you think, Buckler old lad?’
The mole gazed at it for a while before giving his verdict. ‘Ho urr, ’twere a gudd ole cart that’n. Oi wager oi’ll get ’er goin’ tho’ et woant go furr, Marthen.’
The Warrior mouse shook Buckler by the paw. ‘It won’t have to go far, friend. Only from here to those gates, loaded with burning grass and wood, just to create a diversion!’
Boldred blinked excitedly. ‘It could work! Hold back the attack until before dawn; that’s when they’ll least expect it. The Warden and I will fly the net and drop it over the north wall. Who’ll be going over there, Martin?’
‘Queen Amballa with her warriors and the big hedgehogs.’
Trung thumped his loaded thong weapon gleefully into the sand, grinning at his wife as she nursed her immense warclub. ‘Y’hear that, me dearie? We’ll go over paw in paw!’
‘The Gawtrybe squirrels will help the otters to scale the south wall,’ Martin continued.
Starwort winked at a nearby squirrel. ‘Eat plenty, mate, an get yer stren’th up. I’m no featherweight.’
Martin eyed the cart grimly. ‘I’ll be in charge of that. All our hopes hang on it. Right, any more suggestions?’
Grumm held up a digging paw. ‘Aye, Marthen, thurr be other molers yurr. Us’ns tunnel round ’ee back wall, gurt woid ’ole, given everybeast a chance to get insoides.’
Old Barkjon stood up, dusting himself off slowly. ‘I’ll go with Buckler and the others to fix the cart up, then I’ll bury Felldoh.’
Martin put his paw about the old squirrel’s shoulders. ‘We’ll come with you, Rose, Pallum, Brome, Grumm and myself. We all started out together, so we’d like to help put our friend to rest.’
The Rambling Rosehip Players voted to accompany Barkjon too, all wanting to pay their last respects to their friend.
Fleabane laughed against the walltop. ‘Boggs was right, mate, I can see them tryin’ to fix up that burnt cart. Betcha they’ll be gone by mornin’.’
Rotnose peered out into the gathering evening. ‘Well, I won’t be sorry to see the back o’ them. They fought like madbeasts, an’ as fer that big squirrel, Fellow or whatever ’e was called, that one was a real madbeast. I never seen nothin’ like it!’
Fleabane nodded. ‘Aye, well ’e won’t do no more slayin’. They buried ’im where ’e fell. I never want t’ be within a league of a warrior like ’im fer the rest o’ me days!’
Badrang passed by them as he inspected the walltop troops. ‘Cut the gossip and keep your eyes peeled. No sleeping while you stand at stations.’
When he had passed by, Fleabane muttered to Rotnose, ‘That stoat’s gettin’ to be a right ole worrywart, mate. Take it from me, they ain’t comin’ back fer more of what we give ’em t’day.’
Rotnose propped his chin on a battlement. ‘Y’right there, matey. Listen, we only got a few hours shuteye last night an’ we been fightin’ all day. Now I’m gonna take a liddle snooze. You keep watch then you can ’ave second nap.’
Badrang descended from the walls and went in company with some of his Captains to take supper in the longhouse. Boggs rubbed his paws together in anticipation as he walked with them. ‘I’d give me whiskers fer a good beaker of kelp beer!’
A cracked voice came out of the shadows. ‘Badrang is the great Evil One, mates, leadin’ you all to yer doom. Steer clear of ’im. Foller me an’ dig graves – deadbeasts can’t ’arm yer!’
Boggs shuddered. ‘Sounds like Clogg, though I don’t see ’im.’
Crosstooth laughed harshly. ‘Ole Clogg isn’t right in the brainbox no more. May’ap it was that crack you give ’im with the pike, Sire. The daft ole beast’s been goin’ about like that since ’e came to, rantin’ an’ ravin’.’
Clogg’s crazy laugh seemed to come from nowhere. ‘Haharrharrharr! Stay with Badrang the Evil One an’ yore all dead meat. Come an’ dig nice graves with me, mates!’
Badrang paused with his paw on the longhouse door. Staring out into the gathering gloom he called aloud, ‘Stay clear of me, you crazy old coot, or I’ll let daylight through your hide, d’you hear me?’
‘Haharrharr, ye can’t see me ’cos I’m invisible. I’ve got a nice dark hole waitin’ for ye, Evil One!’
The Captains hurried inside. As Badrang slammed the door, the upturned wheelbarrow over a freshly dug grave moved. Clogg peered out from under it.
‘I’m arf a stoat an’ arf a mole,
An’ I’ll bury youse all in a nice deep ’ole,
Down, down where it’s still an’ cold,
An’ y’never live to get old!’
Every fighter had been fed. No fires glowed in the still summer night. It was warm and heavy. Martin sat awake with Rose as the camp lay in slumber. The mousemaid stared up at the stars which twinkled with pale fires in the midnight heavens.
‘Strange isn’t it, Martin, the same stars that shine on this terrible place with all its death and war, those same stars are shining over Noonvale, where all is at peace and war has never been. What are you thinking of, Warrior?’
Martin smiled, nodding at the sight of Grumm, his small fat stomach rising and falling gently. ‘I wasn’t thinking of anything, Rose, I was just watching Grumm, flat out and snoozing with his ladle clutched in both paws.’
The mousemaid relieved the sleeping mole of his ladle, placing it close to his side where he would find it on waking. ‘He’s the most friendly and loyal mole anybeast could wish to know. Grumm has always looked out for me, ever since I was a tiny mousebabe in Noonvale. When we go back there you’ll make lots of friends among our moles – you’re a hero to them.’
‘Me, a hero? What for?’ Martin laughed softly.
‘For bringing down that great dead sycamore. They’ve been at it for seasons, on and off, without much success. Then you came along and in a single day it was uprooted and fallen.’
The young mouse passed her a cloak Trung had given him. ‘You look tired, Rose. Better get some rest. Go on. I’m not sleepy, I’ll sit here close by.’
Rose draped the doak lightly about her, and she was soon asleep. Martin sat up, thinking of many things as he felt the night hours slip slowly by.
42
BALLAW WAS WAKENED by a shake from Martin. It was still dark, though the night was on the wane.
‘Come on, it’s time!’
The camp was stirring quietly into life. Grumm had taken off with Pallum and Rose and a lot of others; they travelled in a wide semi-circle, round to the back walls of Marshank. Boldred and the Warden stood ready, the big kelp net clutched tight between them. Queen Amballa and her pigmy shrews grouped with the big hedgehogs on one side, whilst Starwort and his otters mingled with the Gawtrybe squirrels. Martin, Ballaw and Rowanoak inspected the cart. It was flimsy in the extreme and wobbly on its wheels, piled high with grass, driftwood and brush.
Buckler patted it fondly. ‘Hurr, she’ll do a gurt last run, oi’ll stake moi name on et.’
Amballa raised her paw to Gulba and their joint forces moved off. Starwort gave the squirrels a stern nod to set them on their way. Now there were only fifty archers under Martin’s command left in camp. At his signal, Buckler set flint to tinder and Rowanoak braced herself in the fire-blackened shafts.
‘Nearly curtain time, chaps,’ Ballaw whispered. ‘Here we go!’
Gruzzle was dreaming. In his dream he was back on board his old ship. Someone had lit a fire on the deck and creatures were dancing around it shouting. The searat felt drowsily happy. He wanted to join in with them and dance around the flickering flames. He moaned luxuriously and shifted. Slipping off his spear-handle, Gruzzle cracked his chin hard on the battlement, thrusting him into wakefulness and horrifying reality. The blazing cart plunged madly over the shore towards the fortress gates.
‘Owch! Wha, er, ’ey, y’can’t do that! Fire, fire, ’elp!’
In seconds all was chaos and mad confusion. Most of the soldiers on the walltops were sound asleep. They came awake tripping and bumping into each other. The longhouse door flew open and Badrang dashed out with his Captains stumbling behind. Hearing the shouts and seeing the bright glow against the darkness, the Tyrant drew his sword and yelled mightily, ‘Front wall! The gates! Hurry!’
He raced up the wall ladder, with Clogg’s voice ringing over the alarm shouts. ‘Haharr, ’tis the ghost of me burned ship come back to take revenge on ye, Evil One. You should ’ave listened t’ me, Badrang!’
The heat of the roaring conflagration scorched Rowanoak’s cheeks as she pushed the blazing cart along. Martin and the others ran after her, having been driven from the sides of the cart by the searing flames. At a sharp shout from Rowanoak they halted, notching arrows to their bows. The badger continued running with the cart. Putting her every last ounce of strength into the act, she gave one mighty final push and fell flat. Crackling and hissing with tails of flame like a massive comet, the cart careered madly into the gates of Marshank.
Whoom! Crumph!
It struck the gates, blossoming like a monstrous fiery flower as the whole thing burst on the timbers, sending showers and cascades of angry red sparks upwards in a mushroom of smoke.
Ballaw already had the archers in three lines. He was in his element, ears quivering as he rapped out smart commands.
‘First rank, shoot and drop!’
A volley of shafts hissed through the night.
‘First rank, reload! Second rank, shoot and drop!’
Another hail of death followed in the wake of the first.
‘Second rank, reload! Third rank, shoot and drop! Ready, first rank!’
Unable to see because of the bright light burning in their eyes, the walltop troops were hit hard. Amid it all Badrang was knocking the bows from fighters’ paws. ‘Slopheads! Never mind shooting arrows, the doors are burning. Get sand, get water, put that blaze out!’ He grabbed hold of Rotnose. ‘Did you hear me, muckears. Put the fi–’
The weasel slumped forward with a barbed arrow in his skull.
Boldred and the Warden released the net. It fell accurately, draping one end over three battlements while the rest of it trailed down the wall. Queen Amballa gave it a quick tug to make sure it was secure.
‘Allbeast gonow, upupupupup!’
Gulba and Trung were alongside her as the net suddenly became alive with hedgehogs and pigmy shrews.
Ten Gawtrybe squirrels had made it to the top of the south wall. Six stood by on the narrow catwalk, fighting off hordebeasts as the other four let down ropes with sticks tied across them ladder fashion. Starwort wound his sling about his waist and grabbed one of the ropes.
‘Come on, mates, just like climbin’ up the riggin’!’
Grumm and the moles waited until they heard the screams and shouts of combat on the other side of the wall.
‘Roight, molers. Show’m ’ow to go a-tunellen!’
Powerful digging claws tore at rock, sand, earth and grass as the hole began to sink deep and wide.
Pallum stood close to Rose. ‘I never was in a war, is it always this complicated?’
Rose shrugged as she twirled a sling. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, Pallum. I was never in one either!’
Standing on the darkened beach, Martin could see the confused figures in the light of the gates. He fired off his arrow, seeing a searat fall with it in his throat, as Ballaw bade his rank drop and reload their bows.
The firecart had done its work well. Despite copious doses of sand and inaccurately thrown water, the flames licked hungrily up the woodwork, eating into the timber until they were well established.
