Rose was wakened by Martin’s cry and the great feathered bulk of the grey heron rolling over her. Something brushed by her. She felt slithering scales and kicked out at them.
Martin was locked in the coils of some reptilian creature, what it was he did not know. It felt like a snake, but it had more than one head and tail. Stabbing viciously with his short sword, he was rewarded by the sound of anguished hissing as the coils fell away from him. Nearby Grumm swung out with his ladle and caught something hard on the skull. It went limp. Pallum hung on grimly to a third sinuous shape as Rose battered it with a supply pack. Martin felt another reptile at his back. Swinging sharply, he slashed crosswise and stabbed down twice. The creature was instantly slain.
Rose was still hitting with the pack as she cried out in the darkness, “Fire, Grumm. Make fire!”
The mole fumbled for flint and tinder as Martin found Rose and Pallum in the darkness. Afraid to use his sword in such close proximity to them, he dropped it and went headlong at the creature they had been trying to tackle. Butting, punching and kicking like a mad beast, Martin rendered the thing senseless.
There were no more opponents to fight. They stood still while sparks flew and Grumm could be heard blowing on the tinder. Suddenly there was a small flame. The mole fed it with dry grass and twigs. In the ensuing firelight they viewed the attackers and the attacked. It was the two slowworms they had first seen on entering the marshes. They were both dead, slain by Martin, and lying stunned close by was an enormous grass snake and a young adder.
Grumm shuddered violently. “Surrpints!”
Pallum scrambled over to the limp figure of the Warden. “I think they’ve killed him!”
Rose was at his side instantly. “Let me take a look.”
As she inspected the big bird, Martin called Pallum and Grumm to help him. Between the three of them they heaved the bodies of the four reptiles into the deep ooze of the marsh.
“Over here! This bird is alive!”
Rose was massaging the Warden’s long neck. His eyelids fluttered feebly as she rubbed skillfully. One of the heron’s eyes opened momentarily. “I am the laaaaaww!” it managed to croak.
The mousemaid put a paw to its beak. “Yes I know. Be still now, those snakes nearly strangled you. Grumm, put some water on to heat and see if you can find some soft moss and herbs to make a poultice.”
* * *
As dawn broke over the little camp, Rose sat nursing her patient. The Warden was a fierce bird, quick to recover and hard to keep still. She had bound his neck with a warm soothing poultice of moss and herbs, checking the rest of him to assure herself that the young adder had not struck him.
“You’ll be all right, the adder didn’t bite you. Warden, please lie still. Your neck was badly squeezed. Try not to move it.”
The grey heron tried to rise but fell back croaking hoarsely, “Snakes are lawbreakers. I will punish them. I am the law!”
Grumm looked up from the soup he was making. “Doant you’m never be soilent, burd? Close thoi gurt beak. Hurr!”
As they were held up by the Warden’s injuries, breakfast was a leisurely affair. Pallum roasted some vegetables, leek, pennycress, and shallots. Grumm made excellent wild celery and herb soup then experimented on some barley scones. The Warden became so fierce when Pallum tried to feed him soup that the hedgehog hid behind Grumm. “I don’t think he likes your soup.”
Grumm shook his ladle at the heron. “Doant be natural, creetur not loikin’ moi zoop. He’m never grow big ’n’ strong loik oi.”
“I am Warden of Marshwood Hill. Warden does not eat zoop!”
“Oh, goo an’ boil thoi ’ead, gurt burdbag!”
Rose was surprised at the Warden’s powers of recovery. Barely halfway through the morning he was up and walking as he conversed with Martin. The young mouse told him the story of what had taken place in the night. The big bird glared savagely at him.
“I thank you. Martin is mouse warrior, but you must learn!”
“Learn what?”
“Learn to kill all lawbreakers. Two snakes not dead!”
“But I threw them in the swamp.”
“Next time kill first, then they will never break the law again!”
The Warden was inflexible when dealing with lawbreakers.
* * *
By noon they were back on the path again, travelling behind the Warden. Rose was mentioning to Martin that the mists were beginning to clear and sunlight was now plainly visible filtering through, when Pallum called, “Ahead, look up!”
There was the mountain. Rising above the mists into the summer day, it towered in solitary splendor, the lower slopes clad in verdant pine, rising to shrub and wild lupin, which gave way to naked dun-hued rock all the way to its majestic peak.
Grumm shielded his eyes with a digging claw, peering up. “Well, dig moi tunnel! Us’ns got t’ cloimb yon gurt ’ill?”
The Warden halted, fixing them with his fierce eye. “You can see the mountain?”
Rose nodded her head, awed at the sight. “We surely can. Have we got to climb over it?”
The heron stood on one leg. “No, only halfway. Do you see the cave?”
The four friends searched the rocky mass, straining their eyes. Martin looked at Rose and shrugged before turning to the Warden. “We cannot see a cave, but if you say it is there then we believe you. Halfway up, you said.”
The Warden nodded. “Yes, halfway up. It is a tunnel through the mountain. Now I must leave you. These are my marshes. I am the law here. I stay.”
With an awkward hopskip he took to the air, wings beating until he caught a thermal. Swooping over them, the bird called out, “You saved my life. I will not forget this. You are not lawbreakers. Maybe I will be able to help you someday. I go now. Goodbye!”
As he swooped away, Rose cried aloud, “Thank you for your help. Besides the cave, is there anything else we should look out for when we climb the mountain?”
Wheeling in a half-turn, the heron called a final message, “Ask Boldred, the mountain is not mine. These are my marshes and I alone am the laaaaaaaawwwwwww!”
With that, the Warden of Marshwood Hill was gone, soaring above his domain of treacherous ooze and reptilian subjects.
* * *
In the late afternoon they came out of the marshlands. Crossing a stretch of dry scrub country, the four travellers stopped at the fringe of pines in the mountainous foothills. It was green and shady where Martin decided they would camp.
“We’ll rest here until the morning before attempting to climb the mountain. A good meal and a long sleep is what we need.”
Grumm shook the food packs out, his homely face a picture of dismay as he took stock of their supplies. “Burr, ’ardly any vittles left!”
Two wizened apples, a few pawfuls of wheat flour, one or two candied nuts and three raspberry scones were all that remained of Polleekin’s good food. The mole shook their final canteen. “Lack a day, on’y arf full o’ mint cordial!”
Rose chuckled as she prodded her friend’s tubby little stomach. “Oh dearie me, Grumm Trencher, are you going to let us all starve and waste away to leaf shadows?”
Grumm polished his ladle vigorously with dry grass. “You’m a snip, Miz Roser, no mistake about that! Roight, oi’m taken charge yurr an’ now. Pallum, surch furr veggibles, zurr Marthen, an’ you’m, Miz Roser, lukk for water an’ gather wudd. Oi’ll see wot can be ’unted oop. Listen now, oi wants you’m all back yurr afore sunset. Be that clear?”
Pallum, Martin and Rose giggled as they whispered among themselves. Grumm waved the ladle at them. “Oi said, be that clear?”
They turned to him with serious faces, trying hard not to laugh as they stood stiffly to attention saluting.
“To hear is to obey, Lord Grumm!”
“We will not come back empty-pawed, O Mighty One!”
“We are yours to command, for you are the law!”
They dashed off laughing, leaving Grumm polishing his ladle. “Oi doant see nuthin’ funny. Vittles be serious, ho urr!”
* * *
Twilight found the four friends seated around a cozy little fire. Their foraging had proved extremely fruitful: apples, early wild plums and some green acorns, parsley, dandelion, wild oats and a piece of honeycomb, which Pallum had found floating in a small rivulet of ice-cold mountain water. There were also a few mushrooms and some watercress which had been growing by the rivulet. Grumm borrowed Martin’s sword and used the blade to peel and chop. The others took their ease, laying back under a small spreading pine to watch him.
“Hurr, mushrooms ’n’ cress goes with parsley ’n’ danneeline,” the mole explained as he prepared supper. “Chop up they green acorns too. ‘Twill make gudd zoop, a’most thick as stew.” He paused to rap Rose’s paw with the ladle as she tried to steal a wild plum. “Gurroff, mizzy! Oi needs they, to put wi’ last o’ flour and woild oaters an’ hunny. Chop ’ee apples vurry liddle. Pass oi yon flat stone, oi needs it furr moi asperimend.”
Martin looked at Rose as he passed Grumm the flat thin rock. “Asperimend? What does he mean?”
“He means experiment. Grumm is always experimenting with food. He’s very good, his experiments can turn out tasty.”
The soup when it came was savory, and they blew on it as they sipped it from their scallop shells. Grumm had patted his mixture of wild plum, flour, oats, honey and apples into small round cakes that he cooked on the flat rock over the fire. The sweet smell wreathed round the camp as he turned off the first batch to cool in the grass. Taking one gingerly, he broke it, giving half to Rose. “Wot you’m think o’ that, mizzy?”
The mousemaid juggled it in her paws, blowing on it as she took several quick nibbles. “Oh, Grumm, it tastes wonderful. So sweet and sticky!”
The mole wrinkled his snout in a satisfied manner. “Hurr, oi knew ’t would. Oi’ll make a couple o’ batches an’ we’ll pack they’m furr rations. Oi ’opes oi c’n amember moi asperimend when we reaches ’ome to Noonvale.”
Grumm gave them a cake apiece to eat after their soup. He was packing the rest of them away when a cracking of branches coupled with screams and wild laughter sounded close by. Before Martin could retrieve his sword from Grumm, a dozen or more young squirrels bounded into the camp, screeching, scrabbling and fighting. One of the creatures tripped and stumbled over Rose. He snapped at her and pushed her roughly as he struggled to rise. Martin was across to him in a twinkling. He dealt the squirrel a hefty blow and sent him sprawling again. Now the camp seemed to be full of wild-looking squirrels. They wore sashes of gaily colored barkcloth and had bird feathers fastened to their tails. Disregarding the four travellers, they fought and screeched all round them, ignoring the upset and discomfort they were causing. One creature grabbed hold of Grumm, using him as a shield to escape from another, who was trying, apparently, to steal the feathers from his tail.
Martin had stood enough. He did not want to kill any of them as they had not directly attacked him or his friends, but he was determined that they should be taught a lesson. Seizing Grumm’s ladle, he dashed at the two who were whirling the mole about as one tried to catch the other.
Whopp! Thock!
Martin dealt out two stunning blows which sat the wild pair down flat on their tails. He brandished the ladle and roared, “Stop this! D’you hear me? Stoppit this instant!”
The squirrels halted, panting heavily and grinning at each other.
Martin shook the ladle, his voice stern and loud.
“You hooligans, what d’you mean by dashing in and wrecking our camp like this, eh? Have you no manners at all? You’re like a mob of wild beasts!”
One squirrel grabbed a feather from the tail of another and hopped nimbly on to a low pine branch. “Hah! ’Snot your land, it’s ours. We’re the Gawtrybe, we do what we like. So there!” He stuck his tongue out impudently at Martin.
Pallum was quick. Leaping up, he caught the branch and twanged it, catapulting the squirrel onto the ground. The other squirrels thought this was hilarious and started doing it to each other, one leaping on a low branch as the other twanged it off.
Rose was furious. Placing her paws on her hips, she yelled at them, “Do you want me to call the Warden of Marshwood Hill?”
They stopped momentarily again, then started laughing as one of their number began imitating the grey heron’s sticklike walk and doing a passable impression of the bird.
“I am the law, I slay all lawbreakers! Heeheehee, Warden can’t touch us, he only rules the marshland, never comes up here!”
Rose drew herself up to her full height. “Then I’ll tell Boldred!”
All activity ceased. They looked around nervously, then one of them pulled an impudent face. “Yah, you can’t, ’cos she’s not here, look!” Jumping up and down, he chanted, “Boldred, Boldred, boulder-head old Boldred!” Spreading his paws wide, he smirked cheekily, “See, she’s not here!”
With a series of wild whoops the squirrels sprang off into the trees, leaving the camp at peace once more. Martin stood listening to them as they shrieked and shouted off into the gathering night.
“The Gawtrybe, eh. I don’t like that crowd one little bit. We’d best post a sentry tonight. I’ll take first watch. Grumm, will you take second? You can use my sword.”
The mole brandished his trusty ladle fearlessly. “Burr, this be all oi’ll need furr they rarscally beasters!”
Rose placed damp wood on the fire to burn slowly through the night. She sat with her back against a pine and settled to rest. “Martin, did you notice how they stopped when I mentioned Boldred? I know they joked and clowned a bit, but they’re obviously scared of her. I wonder who Boldred is and where we can find her.”
Martin shouldered the small sword, his keen eyes questing around the night-cloaked woodland. “Your guess is as good as mine, Rose. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the Gawtrybe, though.”
* * *
However, the night passed uneventfully for the four travellers, the wooded foothills remaining calm and peaceful. The following morning was presided over by a hot blue cloudless sky, promising even greater heat as the day progressed. They breakfasted sparingly on cold water and some of Grumm’s invention cakes before setting off to scale the mountain.
Three hours after dawn, they left the forest, entering a country of sloping shale scree carpeted with shrub, fern and lupin. As they toiled upwards in the oppressive breezeless warmth, Martin gritted his teeth. Jibes and insults were coming at them from all around, though they saw no squirrels.
“Heehee, I’ll tell the Warden on you!”
“Bad-mannered hooligans, campwreckers!”
“Heehee, still no sign of Boldred!”
“Please, Boldred, save us from the Gawtrybe, heehee!”
Pallum clapped a paw to his ear. “Yowch! They’re chucking pebbles at me!”
A small stone clacked off Martin’s swordblade. He kept his eyes straight ahead, speaking in a voice strained by temper. “Ignore them, the stupid vermin!”
“Ignore them, the stupid vermin, heeheehee!” a voice echoed back at him.
The young mouse was about to pick up a pebble and hurl it back in the direction of the voice when Rose halted. She muttered urgently to him out of the side of her mouth, “Look up ahead!”
The way was blocked by about fifty Gawtrybe squirrels. One, larger than the rest and obviously some kind of chieftain, stood forward. He scuffed the ground with his paw and pouted like a naughty infant as he spoke. “This is Gawtrybe land. You’ve got to pay to pass through.”
Martin eyed him levelly. “We have only some food for ourselves, nothing of any value. I am Martin the Warrior, this is Rose, Pallum and Grumm. Let us pass. We will be off your land by nightfall.”
The squirrel leader did a mincing little dance, holding his paws together imploringly as he mocked, “Let us pass, please. Let us pass!”
Martin noticed that more squirrels had come up behind them, cutting off any chance of retreat. The leader squirrel had more feathers in his tailbrush than any of the others. He arched the bushy tail skillfully towards Martin.
“I am called Wakk, leader of the Gawtrybe. Give me your sword and I’ll let you pass.”
The young mouse’s eyes were cold as he answered, “Nobeast takes this sword from me!”
Wakk puffed out his chest and made his tail stand straight. “Then I will fight you for it!”
Martin curled his lip derisively. “Oh, you’ll fight, my friend, backed up by all your bunch, I suppose.”
Wakk did not sneer or joke. He held up both paws to show he was not armed. “No no, we two will fight together, just me and you. None of my bunch will interfere. Give your sword to the mousemaid, and let’s see how good you are without a weapon.”
Instantly, the squirrels formed a large ring. As Martin passed the sword to Rose he had his back turned to Wakk.
“Look out, Martin!” Pallum shouted.
He thrust the sword into Rose’s paws and whirled around to see Wakk hurtling through the air at him, teeth bared and claws outspread.