Martin The Warrior Part 30

"Oi be ready t' dive frum this gurt 'igh place on to 'ee damp cloth!"

Ballaw drummed his footpaw on a small tambourine. "We will not be responsible for small infants an' nervous folk who faint durin' this death-defyin' performance!"

Fuffle leaped up and pulled Rowanoak's stubby tail. "Ho, gerron wivvit!"

"Yaaaaaaaahhhhhhh I"

Rowanoak tried to stand up and the pyramid collapsed. Amid loud laughter the troupe lay on the ground pretending to be stunned, while Buckler appeared with the damp cloth balanced on his nose. He struck out as if swimming. "Oi did et, oi did et! Oh, 'elp, somebeast, afore oi drowns. Oi carn't swim!"

Celandine ran forward holding the custard pie and calling sweetly, "Oh, save him, someone. Don't let poor Malcolm drown before he's had his custard pie!"

"Fear not, fair maid, I will save the poor lad, for I can dive like a duck and swim like a rock!" Ballaw ran to the rescue. Celandine tripped and fell beautifully The custard pie sailed through the air, and Kastern caught it 304.

just as Ballaw whipped the damp cloth from Buckler's nose. He waved it dramatically "Saved, saved from a fate worse than tummyache!"

The flapping cloth hit Kastern in the face. She let go of the pie and it splattered all over Buckler's head. The audience fell about, holding their sides and hooting with laughter. Buckler bowed.

"Yurr am oi, Malc.u.mm, c.u.mpletely disgusted, 'Stead o' water oi bin drownded in custed!"

From the edge of the firelight Felldoh watched the performance. Barkjon suddenly noticed his son sitting next to him. "Ha ha, oh hohoho! What a good show. Felldoh, where did you come from, son?"

Felldoh kept his gaze on the performers, smiling as he clapped his paws together. "I've been here all the time. Funny, wasn't it? Cheers you up to see somebeast taking a tumble, eh Dad!"

His father was about to reply when Felldoh pointed. "Oh, look out, here comes young Brome. I wonder what he and Ballaw are up to?"

As they began the next act, Barkjon looked strangely at his son and murmured in his ear, "Yes, and I wonder what you've been up to."

Brome sat banging a large drum.

Boomboomboomboom!

Ballaw appeared from behind the cart in a long nightgown and a ta.s.selled nightcap. He yawned, stamping his paw bad-temperedly. "I say, what d'you think you're doin' bangin' that thing all night, you young rip. I'm tryin' to sleep!"

Brome continued to bang the drum vigorously.

Boomboomboomboomboom!

"I'm practicing for the Periwinkle Parade!"

Ballaw wriggled a paw in his ear over the drum noise. "The whatiwinkle hooray, did y'say!"

305.

F.

Brome banged the drum louder as he shouted, "The Periwinkle Parade, you silly fool!"

Ballaw wriggled paws in both ears as if to hear better. "The pretty pinksnail in a slippy pool?"

Brome continued banging as Ballaw turned to the audience. "What did he say?"

"The Periwinkle Parade, you silly fool!" everyone yelled aloud.

Ballaw nodded. "Oh, I see. The gritty pigstail of a sw.i.l.l.y cool!"

The audience roared out as Brome banged even louder.

Ballaw shook his head. Grabbing Brome's paw, he halted the noise. "Listen, you young rogue, I'll give you a cream pudden if you stop that bangin'. Is it a bargain?"

Brome smiled foolishly. "Done! Where's the cream pudden then, flopears?"

Ballaw produced a big knife. "Inside the drum. It's all yours if you stop that beastly bangin'."

Still smiling foolishly, Brome cut the drumskin wide open and poked his head inside. There was a moment's silence then he called out. "Hey, lankypaws, there's no cream pudden in here!"

Ballaw did a huge wink at the audience and grinned wickedly. "Oh, isn't there? What a jolly old shame. Ah well, I'm off for a nice long sleep, 'cos I'm playin' my drum tomorrow in the Periwinkle Parade y'know. Good night!"

Gauchee walked up holding a lantern. "Goodnight Mr. Ballaw!"

Ballaw shuffled past her. "Good night, Mrs. Gauchee. Oh, don't forget and leave my big drum out for me in the morning, I'm playin' in the Periwinkle Parade."

Gauchee threw her paws up. "Oh corks! I'd forgotten all about that, Mr. Ballaw. I'd better go and get your drum back off young Master Brome. I lent it to him to practice on!"

Ballaw clapped a paw to his head and collapsed in a faint. Gauchee turned to Brome. "Leave that silly old drum with Mr. Ballaw and come in for your supper. I've made you a nice cream pudden, Master Brome!"

Tullgrew, Keyla and Baby Fuffle leaned on each other, the tears coursing down their cheeks as they tried to stop laughing. Purslane was shaking with laughter herself as she swept Fuffle up in her paws. "Come on, mischief. Time for bed. Are you coming, Groot?"

Purslane's husband Groot was saying his good nights to the others. He pa.s.sed Felldoh at the edge of the firelight. "Good night, Felldoh. It's nice to see you smiling again."

The strong squirrel patted Groot's back as he pa.s.sed. "Yes, it was very good night altogether!"

Brome had been watching Felldoh. He was rather puzzled by the squirrel's jolly mood. The young mouse lay down to rest near the campfire embers, next to Keyla and Tullgrew. The three lay staring at the myriad hosts of stars piercing the velvet cape of night.

"Felldoh is up to something," Brome said softly to the two otters. "I can't quite put my paw on it, but I'll swear he's hatching some plan or other."

Keyla half sat up. "Funny you should say that, Brome. I couldn't help watching Felldoh tonight myself. He's being far too smug, sort of secretive. Have you noticed anything, Tullgrew?"

"About Felldoh? Well, he's been going about patting backs and shaking paws, grinning like a demented frog. That's not like him, he's usually a dour creature these days."

Brome listened to the guttering fire crackle gently. So, it was not only he who had observed Felldoh acting oddly. "Listen, you two, I don't like it one little bit. In fact, I've been thinking. I'm going to follow that squirrel tomorrow and see what he's up to. Fancy coming along?"

Keyla and Tullgrew both nodded silently. Brome clas- 306.

307.

ped their paws. "Good, as soon as it's light we stick to him like limpets!"

The campfire burned down to a tiny glimmer of light on the clifftops. Ballaw and Rowanoak snored gently in the cart, and a soft summer wind rippled the gra.s.s. The encampment slumbered peacefully in the calm night. Only Felldoh was still awake. He sat with his back against a rock, planning.

308.

35.

Dawn light crept over Noonvale in a golden haze. Unused to sleeping in a bed under a roof, Martin was up and about, feeling strangely light without the short sword tucked snugly at his side. He wandered about the settlement, marvelling at the beauty and proliferation of fruit and flower, a tribute to the industrious inhabitants. Sitting beside the waterfall, he enjoyed the cool atmosphere. Perch and trout could be seen gliding lazily in the crystal depths of a pool at the base of the falls. The young mouse stared at his reflection in a shadowed inlet. The marks of the deep scratches on his cheeks were still there, and his face was thinner, though the resolute jaw was firm and the eyes that stared back at him shone with the light of determination.

He was not surprised to see Aryah appear beside him. She placed her paws on his shoulders, watching his image in the water. "You are an early riser, Martin." "I could not sleep, but I see you are up early too." "Yes, I have spoken to Boldred. I have asked her to seek out Brome. What is the matter, Martin? Are you not happy here?"

"It is a beautiful spot."

"But you must soon return to Marshank?"

The young mouse flicked a pebble into the pool and 309.

watched it sink. Aryah sat down beside him and patted his paw. "You and my husband Urran Voh are both alike in many ways, warrior and peacemaker, both walking different paths, but both stubborn and immovable. The world needs such creatures. Rose told me that the Tyrant holds your father's sword. Is that the reason you must go, to take the sword back from him?"

Martin stood up. He helped Aryah on to her paws. "Yes, the sword belonged to my father, Luke the Warrior. I swore a warrior's oath to him that I would never let another beast take it from me. I was little more than an infant when Badrang stole my sword, but now the seasons have given my paws the strength to take it back. You understand, I must do this, and I must free Marsh-ank of slavery."

Martin thought he saw the glimmer of a tear in Aryan's eye.

"I understand, young warrior. The thing that grieves me is that Rose will go with you, no matter what I, or her father, may say."

Martin reached out, wiping the teardew from Aryan's cheek. "I will take far greater care protecting her life than I will my own."

Grumm ladled creamy pale batter on to a heated stone, grunting eagerly as he watched it cook. "Gurr, pan-cakers. Oi dearly do luv pancakers wi brekkist."

His tiny nephew Bungo stirred a cauldron furiously. "Hurrhurr, an' zoop, Nuncle Grumm. Doant furget 'ee zoop!"

Grumm turned the pancake over. "Gurrout you'm darft liddle moler. 'Ow could oi furget zoop! Yurr, doant stir et too farst, you'm ull spoil et."

Bungo's tiny paws were a blur as he stirred faster and faster. "You'm doant tell oi 'ow to stir zoop, oi been doin' et since oi were nought but a liddle un. Pay 'tenshun to thoi pancakers!"

310.

Tables and forms had been set out under the trees in the sun-splashed shade, and creatures bustled to and fro with breakfast items. Rose dashed by Martin. She was carrying a tray of hot pancakes spread with honey and decorated with pear slices and raspberries. "Out of my way, sir, or you won't get breakfast today!"

Martin sprang nimbly aside and bowed low. "My apologies, marm. Nothing should get in the way of good food!"

"Then don't get in the way, lend a paw over here!" Pallum shouted across as he staggered under an immense beechwood bowl of fruit salad.

Mice, hedgehogs, moles and squirrels called out their morning greetings to each other as they went about their ch.o.r.es. Every creature helped until the tables were ready. Little ones scrubbed from tail to eartip and freshly besmocked clambered up on to familiar laps. Young ones, giggling and gossiping together, sat next to their closest friends. Old ones and parents made sure their families were comfortable before perching in their time-honoured positions at table. When every creature was settled, Urran Voh recited the grace and the meal began in earnest.

"Pa.s.s the barleybread, please!"

"Ooh, it's hot! Mind your paws."

"We'm bain't 'ad a gudd pancake since Grumm been away. Parss they yurr, Gumbler!"

"Martin, would you like some fruit salad? It's very good!"

"Thank you, Rose. Here, try some of this maple and b.u.t.tercup wafer."

"Oh yes please. Auntie Poppy baked them-they're my favorite. Teaslepaw, can you stop baby Bungo dipping those pancakes in the soup!"

The hedgehog maid put aside her maplescone and tried to prevent the infant mole from dipping a pancake that oozed honey into the leek and mushroom soup.

p Bungo eyed her indignantly. "Keep thoi spoiky paws offen oi an' eat thoi own brekkist, mizzy."

Grumm nudged Pallum as the hedgehog finished off a heavy slice of nutbread. "That Bungo be a liddle savage. He'm rooned a gurt pot o' zoop sturrin' et loik a wurlywind. Oi maked a speshul pot, jus' fur you'n oi. Do 'ave some."

Pallum ladled the broth into his bowl.

"Thankee, Grumm. Mmm, smells nice!"

"An' so et should, hurr. Oi maked et wi' roses an' onions an' daisies an' carrot, an' plums an' turnip too, ho aye, gudd zoop! An' oi sturred et slow, not loik some villyuns not arf a league from wurr oi sits!"

After breakfast, Rose showed Martin round the orchard. Plums, greengages and damsons, hung red, yellow and purple amid other trees bearing pears, apples and cherries. Neat rows of raspberry, blackcurrants, bilberry and redcurrants provided a border between the orchard and the vegetable garden. At the far end of the orchard a crew of moles was digging around a gaunt dead sycamore tree. Grumm was helping. He greeted them with a wave of his huge digging paw.

"Hurr, look at oi, not 'ome a twoday an' oi'm back at work!" He explained that they were digging to bring the dead sycamore down. It would be cut up and used as stump seats around the waterfall pool. Martin immediately rolled up the sleeves of his smock and began to help. Rose watched for a while, then tossing off her headband of woven flowers, she jumped into the hole alongside Martin.

All through the day they toiled. Six holes had been bored in and around the base of the dead forest giant and still the sycamore refused to budge. A crowd of Noonvale creatures who had finished their ch.o.r.es gathered round to watch. Grumm and several other moles shook soil from their digging claws and wiped perspiring snouts.

"Gurr, that thurr old tree doant want to budge, Grumm!"

"Hurr no, Gumbler. Nor wudd you'm iffen thoi roots 'ad been thurr for all they long seasons."

"Hurr, us'ns be yurr till winter s.h.i.+ften this'n!" "Wot's 'olden et up? We'm digged deep all round et?" Grumm vanished down a hole and reappeared, spraying earth about. "Taproot, gurt fat un. Et ull 'ave to break afore she moves, hurrr!"

Martin took a small mole axe and climbed into the hole. "I'm going to have a go at that taproot. Rose, take all these spectators and find the longest, thickest piece of wood you can. Bring it over here and give me a shout when you do."

Rose and her party scoured Noonvale. The only thing they could come up with was a long thick rowan trunk, forked at one end. Urran Voh watched them rolling it away.

"Where are you taking that? We were going to reinforce the ridgepole rafter of the Council Lodge with it."

Rose tugged her father's beard playfully. "Martin wants it to move the old sycamore. Don't worry, we'll bring it back."

Urran Voh snorted. "I should hope you will, though how you plan to move that big sycamore with it is beyond me."

Baby Bungo took the Patriarch's paw. "Hurr, then coom an' watch. You'm never too seasoned to lurn, zurr!"

Martin tossed aside the axe. He had cut as deep into the taproot as the limited s.p.a.ce in the hole allowed. Climbing out of the hole, he directed the group rolling the rowan trunk into position.

"Push it over here. That's it! Let the forked end down towards me. Grumm, build up some earth and stones at 312.

313.

the edge of the main hole here. Watch out! Let the rowan slide down. Good!"

The rowan trunk stood at an angle down into the main hole, its twin forks buried in two more holes at the sycamore's roots.