Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop struck his most noble pose. Balancing high on the midwest battlements he leaned forward, shading his eyes with a paw, back leg stuck out straight behind, and his expression one of keen and courageous intelligence as he peered searchingly in all directions. The fearless commander, master of all he surveyed. “H’all cleeeeyaaahhh?” he called to the sentries in his most authoritative voice. “The enemy hath fled from our gates! Nary a sign of one lousebound rat or malicious Marlfox t’be seen in all this fair country, wot!” Deesum clasped her paws together fervently. “Oh, thanks be to fortune, is the fighting over now?”
Florian blew out his narrow chest, placing a paw upon his heart. “The winds of war blow no more, madam, the foebeast is vanquished, routed by our valorous efforts, retreating in disarray, wot wot!”
The fiendish mousebabe Dwopple narrowly missed the hare’s tail with a stone from his sling. He scowled ferociously. “Worra ’im talkin’ ’bout?”
Florian cast a jaundiced eye at his one remaining foe. “If you’d washed your pesky ears out you’d have heard first time, O small and horrible one. Victory is ours! Toll the bells! Strew rose petals round me paws and prepare a great feast!”
Brother Melilot rolled his eyes skyward in despair. “I had a feelin’ he was goin’ to mention food!”
The rest of the Redwallers sitting on the gatehouse steps looked to Cregga. Sister Sloey touched the badger’s paw. “What d’you think, Badgermum? Is the fighting really over?”
Cregga deliberated before giving her answer. “It could well be, friend. Another Marlfox slain, and a good number of water rats. Perhaps they’ve had enough. They’ve not shown up today so far, and that must be a good sign.”
Gurrbowl Cellarmole jumped up and down with joy. She hated the notion, as most other Redwallers did, of continued strife. “Oh, do saya ee vurmints be’d gone, marm. Ee foightin’ do be’s over, bain’t it, do ee say ’tis.”
Cregga smiled. She could feel the hopefulness virtually radiating from the Abbeydwellers gathered around her. “Oh, all right, if you wish, I think the war’s over.”
Joyous pandemonium rang out over the grounds into the sunkissed morning.
“Victory for Redwaaaaaalllll!”
“Sound the bells! Sound the bells good’n’loud!”
“A feast! Let’s prepare a great feast in the orchard!”
Florian strutted triumphantly down the wallsteps, bowing to all around in the most outrageous manner. “Jolly well told you chaps, didn’t I? Fightin’s over, wot!”
Janglur sat on the northwest wallcorner with his friends, Rusvul and Skipper. They watched the cheering creatures pouring over toward the Abbey, eager to begin the preparations for the celebratory feast. Janglur’s hooded eyes swept Mossflower woodlands north of the ramparts. “Let ’em enjoy theirselves. I think I’ll just linger round ’ere for a few days yet. No point in takin’ chances, mates.”
Skipper tested a longbow that he had been restringing. “Good idea. We’re with you!”
*
Vannan’s was the strongest personality of the three remaining Marlfoxes. She had ordered a retreat into the depths of south Mossflower. The vixen sat watching the water rats tend their injuries and cook food over an open fire, remarking noncommittally, as Ascrod came to sit beside her, “We’re fortunate there’s no shortage of vittles hereabouts. Let ’em rest awhile. We need to use brains more than weapons now.”
Ascrod snorted scornfully. He snatched a roasted thrush from a passing water rat and sank his teeth into it. “We need reinforcements more than anythin’, sister. We’ve barely got a hundred an’ twenty countin’ me, you an’ Predak.”
Vannan stood up, brushing her cloak off. “Then we’ll just have to use the ferrets, won’t we?”
Ascrod spat a bone into the fire, wrinkling his face in disgust. “What? You mean that scurvy bunch we rousted out of here last night? Raventail and his ragged crowd? They looked as though they’d seen enough fighting to last them many a long day. Anyway, ferrets have never served those of Marlfox blood. Surely you cannot be serious?”
Vannan adjusted the ax in her belt so it was ready to paw. “I’m perfectly serious, brother. We can’t be too choosy in times like these, and we need more soldiers. Those ferrets will join us, aye, they’ll fight and die for us too, when I’ve put a bit of discipline into their backbones. You can come with me. Bring an escort of twoscore, well armed—Allag’s patrol will do.”
Ascrod tossed the roast bird aside, wiping paws upon his cloak. “But we chased them off. They’ll be long gone by now.”
Vannan pointed to the telltale wisps rising above the treetops to the south. “They’re still hanging about over that way. I’ve been marking the smoke of their campfire since early morning. Are you coming?”
Ascrod signaled Allag’s patrol and hurried to join his sister. “But there was no more than a score of them. What use is twenty ferrets to us?”
Vannan strode confidently onward. “A score is all we counted, but I’ll wager they can raise three times that number. Sixty extra soldiers is not something to be sneezed at. Let’s go and talk to this Chieftain Raventail!”
When they reached the ferret camp, Vannan ordered Ascrod to stay concealed nearby in the woods with Allag and his patrol. Using all the considerable wiles of a Marlfox, she made her way through the ferrets unheeded. Drawing as close to Raventail’s fire as she could while remaining undetected, the vixen tossed a pawful of special ingredients from her belt pouch into the flames. Raventail shot up in alarm when the fire burst into a green sheet of flame, followed by a thick column of smoke. He was even more astounded by the appearance of Vannan, who materialized out of the haze. The ferret staggered backward, drawing his scimitar.
“Kye arr! Where comma you from, foxbeast?”
Vannan made a fearful sight, paws akimbo, revealing the ax she carried beneath her cloak, from under which the smoke still wreathed and curled. Her strange pale eyes narrowed as she glared at the ferret, calling out in a sepulchral voice, “Be still and know that I am the Marlfox! The power of great magic is within me!”
Raventail wavered, not sure what to do next. He looked to an old toothless ferret, reputed to be wise, and the old vermin nodded his head vigorously. He too was impressed by Vannan’s appearance.
“Yehyeh, meknow ’boutder Marlfoxes. Rakkarakka! Muchmuch magic!”
As if to confirm his statement, Ascrod stepped out from a tree behind Vannan, causing widespread consternation among the ferrets.
“Kye arr! See twobeast now! Shallakaaaah! Marlfox’n’Marlfox!”
Vannan’s lips scarcely moved as she whispered to Ascrod, “Well done, brother. We’ve got these ignorant savages’ attention.”
She raised a paw imperiously, pointing beyond to the woodland. “Behold the warrior servants of the Marlfoxes!”
Allag and his patrol marched out of the trees in double ranks. The ferrets turned around to watch the smartly clad water rats. By the time Allag’s soldiers arrived at Raventail’s fire, both Marlfoxes had disappeared. Raventail circled the fire, utterly astonished. “Kye arrrrrrr! Wherego Marlfoxes?”
Ascrod and Vannan had circled back to where Allag’s patrol had been previously hidden. They emerged from the trees, walking very slowly and looking mysterious. The ferret Chieftain grabbed the paw of the ancient one he had consulted before.
“Yehyeh! Allmagic Marlfox be bigmagic!”
Vannan muttered out the side of her mouth to Ascrod as they approached the awestricken Raventail, “Let’s sit down and do business with this one, now that we’ve convinced him Marlfoxes are really magic!”
*
Florian was also impressing an audience at that moment. Armed with a soup ladle and a large wooden salad fork, he pranced about wildly in front of the Abbeybabes, performing a victory ode he had composed in which credit for the rout of the vermin was due largely to the fighting prowess of one Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop.
“Armed to the dirty mangy teeth,
Ten of ’em came at me,
Hoho, me buckoes, here, sez I,
Only ten of ye?
So I boxed their ears an’ blacked their eyes,
Then tied their tails in knots.
I kicked their bottoms o’er the walls
With javelins an’ slingshots,
When suddenly behind me back,
Some foulbeast shouted ‘Charge!’
An’ twenty-three came right at me,
Those villains were quite large.
So I got me trusty salad fork,
An’ jabbed ’em here’n’there,
I left ’em weepin’, full o’ holes,
‘Oh save us from that hare!’
Well I grabbed a fleein’ Marlfox,
An’ punched him on the snout,
Both his boots went flyin’ off,
I gave him such a clout!
Those rats were dirty fighters,
Out came me old soup ladle,
The cowardly pack o’ blighters,
Fled fast as they were able.
I chased ’em, laughin’ bravely,
Haharr now off you pop,
I’m the warrior who saved Redwall,
An’ me last name’s Wilffachop!”
Unknown to the garrulous hare, Bargle and Mayon were watching the performance. The two Guosim shrews sat concealed by a berry hedge, observing Florian’s wild contortions as he declaimed his outrageous ode. They were not sure whether to scowl or laugh.
“Modest ole beast, ain’t ’e, mate?”
“I wonder who taught ’im t’dance, a mad caterpillar?”
“Even a scalded frog couldn’t prance about like that. I’ve never seen a creature’s paws, tail, ears’n’whiskers goin’ so many different ways at one time!”
“Oh, haharrharr! Ole Florian’s fell flat on ’is tail. I knew ’e would. Couldn’t keep up a twirlin’ jig like that!”
Sister Sloey, assisted by Rimrose and Ellayo, was checking up on Redwallers who had sustained injuries during the fighting. A line formed on the stairs to the Infirmary, the patients mainly shrews who had slingshot or arrow wounds that needed re-dressing. Rimrose finished neatly bandaging a Guosim paw. “There you are, Splikker, good as new. Keep it dry now, that cut is healing nicely. Next!”
Ellayo and Sloey were applying a compress of wet herbs to the head of a mole who had been hit by a slingstone.
“Don’t worry, sir, that bump is smaller than ’twas yesterday. Do you still feel dizzy at all?”
The mole touched a heavy digging claw to the swelling on his brow. “Oi be foine now, thankee, marm. Doan’t feels loik oi gotten two ’eads no more, hurr hurr!”
There was a commotion on the stairway. Florian was pushing his way to the front of the line. “I say, make way for a warrior, you chaps, pish’n’tush! Load of scratches an’ bumps, wot! A feller could be dyin’ for all you flippin’ lot care. Out o’ the confounded way, sir!” He came barging into the Infirmary, but did a smart about-turn when he saw three females in attendance. “Er, er, harrumph! Not t’worry, ladies, I’ll come back another time. Extremely busy, lots t’do, wot wot!”
Ellayo and Sister Sloey cut off his retreat to the door.
“What seems to be the matter, mister Florian?”
“You never reported a wound. Sit down an’ tell us about it.”
“Er, er, rather not sit down, Ellayo marm,” Florian blustered, backing up to the wall. “Nature of the wound, doncha know, er, haha . . .”
Sister Sloey nodded understandingly. “Oh, I see, you were wounded in the tail area. Why didn’t you come here yesterday?”
“Er, well er, didn’t feel so jolly bad then, you understand, just today though, been givin’ me a bit o’ gyp. Must’ve been a few arrows or a couple o’ spears got me. Forgot all about it in the heat of battle, y’know. Chap doesn’t like to cause a fuss.”
Rimrose began gathering herbs for a poultice. “Oh, you poor creature, you must have been in great pain!”
Florian turned sideways, showing his noble profile and devil-may-care smile. “Oh, ’twas nothin’ really. Stiff upper lip, wot!”
Winking and grinning at everybeast about, Bargle and Mayon entered the Infirmary. Each tossed a broken half of a wooden salad fork on the table.
“Mister Florian, sir, wot’s Brother Melilot goin’ t’say when he sees wot y’did to ’is salad fork?”
“Aye, I’ll wager it smarted a bit when y’fell an’ sat down on it like that. Must’ve give yer a nasty jab in yore backside, sir?”
Over the uproarious laughter from the shrews waiting in line, Ellayo gave the hare a piece of her mind. “You great flop-eared fraud! Wounded by spears an’ arrows durin’ the fightin’, eh? Yore a fiddle-faced fibber an’ a trickster!”
The Infirmary door slammed before Florian could make good his escape. Guosim shrews crowded around the outside, peeping through the keyhole and pressing their ears to the woodwork, to witness what was taking place inside.
“Er, I’ll come back t’morrer, marm. What’re you doin’ with those bally great tweezers? No, please, I beg you. Yaaaah!”
“Bargle, Mayon, hold him still, there may be splinters. Don’t want to leave them in there, do we?”
“Ooooh! I say, go easy there! Yowchouch!”
“Is that water hot enough yet, Rimrose? I want to make a nettle poultice. Can’t be too careful with tail wounds!”
“Yeeeek! Assassins! Help me, somebeast, they’re torturin’ me t’death! Owowowowowowwww!”
“So brave an’ silent, ain’t ’e, Mayon?”
“Whooooooh! Fiends! Gerroff, lemmego! Oohoohooh!”
“Stiff upper lip, mister Florian, that’s the jolly ole spirit. Chin up an’ never say die, ole chap, wot wot!”
Brother Melilot and Runktipp were setting up the banqueting board in the orchard. Gubbio Foremole and Tragglo Spearback upended a cask onto a trestle, and Tragglo knocked home a spigot with his bung mallet. He held a beaker beneath the tap, allowing a small quantity of sparkling pinkish liquid to flow into it. Melilot took the proffered beaker and sipped.
“Best strawberry fizz cordial I ever tasted!”
Runktipp sat on the ground, looping a thin wire about the big white celery cheese he was about to cut. “Lend a paw ’ere, Brother, ’tis too much for me t’cut alone!”
Melilot clapped a paw to his forehead. “Pear’n’chestnut flans! I’ve left six of ’em in the ovens!” He hurried off, calling back orders. “Tragglo, help cut the cheese, will you! Foremole, send some of your crew to collect those oatfarls from the windowsills, they should be well cooled by now! Roop, Muggle, start loading the trolleys. Don’t forget the salad—oh, and see if you can find my serving fork. I don’t know where ’tis gone to. Deesum marm, would you be kind enough to top off the trifle? You’ll find fresh chopped fruit on the big stone slab. Oh dear, I hope those flans aren’t burnt!”
Tragglo and Runktipp pulled the wire smoothly through the large cheese, then lifted off the moist white circular slice and cut it into four wedge-shaped chunks ready for the table.
Runktipp glanced sideways at the berry hedge. “We’re bein’ watched, mate. ’Tis prob’ly cheese-robbers!”
Tragglo took his barrel knife and cut a small piece from the cheese, held it up and called out to the hidden creatures, “You can ’ave some cheese if’n you promises not t’slay us all afore our work’s done ’ere!”
The fiendish Dwopple and his cohort, the molebabe Wugger, emerged from behind the hedge. Both Dibbuns were practically unrecognizable. Daubed from ears to tail with gray kitchen ash and flecked with black spots of charcoal, they wore gray blankets, purloined from the dormitory, as cloaks. Stumbling on the blanket hems, they leapt toward the cheese.
Tragglo struggled to keep a straight face. “An’ who might you turrible beasts be?”
Dwopple turned his most fearsome scowl upon the big hedgehog. “Us be’s Marmfloxes, an’ y’can’t see us, ’cos we be unvizzible!”
Tragglo caught on to the game right away. He looked strangely at Runktipp, who had also guessed what was going on. “Did you say somethin’, mate?”
Runktipp shook his spiky head vigorously. “I never said a word. I thought ’twas you, mate?”
Dwopple sniggered gleefully as he and Wugger grabbed the cheese. “It workin’, tol’ yer they cuddent see us, heehee!”
Wugger broke the cheese in two, giving half to his partner in crime. “Hurr, vurry gudd. Us’n’s best varnish naow, loike ee Marmfloxes!”
The heavy digging claws of Gurrbowl Cellarmole descended on them. “You’m bain’t a-varnishin’ nowheres, rogues. Oi see ee gudd enuff t’know you’m be in gurt need o’ a barth an’ sound scrubbin’!”
Both “Marmfloxes” were hauled off kicking and squealing by the dutiful molewife.
Added to the scent of the orchard, an aroma of wonderful food created an intoxicating atmosphere. Janglur, Skipper and Rusvul had been temporarily relieved by three good Guosim, and were sitting together with Rimrose and Ellayo. All around them the buzz and chatter of happy creatures added to the festive spirit. Even the vari-hued butterflies and bumblebees that hovered about the orchard seemed part of the enchanted afternoon.
Cregga Badgermum created an instant hush when she stood to speak. “Friends, Redwallers, good creatures all, before we carry on to enjoy this sunny day, let me say a few words in the absence of either Abbot or Abbess. First, let us hope that the Marlfox threat has gone from Mossflower country. Brave creatures lost their lives in defense of our Abbey, and we must remember them always in our minds and hearts. But also we must resolve never to yield to evil, whether it be Marlfox or any other vermin attempting to destroy the peaceful life of Redwall. Next, I feel we should give due thanks to our warriors. Janglur Swifteye, Rusvul Reguba, Bargle Guosim, Skipper of otters, Borrakul and all of you who defended the Abbey, our thanks to you brave ones!”
There was a mass murmur of agreement, which broke out into hearty applause. Cregga waited before continuing.
“Also we must live in hopes for the safety of Janglur’s daughter Song, Rusvul’s son Dannflor and the young Guosim Dippler. These, we now know, have gone to get back the tapestry, which is the very heart of Redwall. Fate and fortunes keep them well and aid them on their quest. Now, before we begin, is there anything that you wish to ask me, friends?”
Tragglo Spearback’s voice rang out strong and clear. “Aye, marm, I want to know why you ain’t our Abbess. Everybeast wishes you were!”
Roars of approval and loud cheers echoed everywhere. Skipper was forced to whack the table with his rudder to get order. “Ahoy, give marm a chance, will ye? Thanks, marm, the floor’s yours.”
Cregga nodded gratefully in the otter Chieftain’s direction. “Well done, Skip! Redwallers, I once had command when I ruled Salamandastron, the great fortress by the sea. Now I wish to live out my seasons in peace. I can help and advise, but I will not rule, on that my word is final. So, if there are no more questions, we will start the feast!”
Bargle held up a paw, grinning mischievously. “Beg pardon, marm, but could you tell us why mister Florian ain’t sittin’ down like the rest of us?”
Cregga’s blind eyes turned in the shrew’s direction. “Isn’t he? I hadn’t noticed. Mayhap mister Florian can throw some light upon the mystery. Sir?”
Amid gales of laughter from all who knew what had happened, Florian glared daggers at the cheeky shrew. “Flippin’ spiky-mopped waterbeetle, mind your own business, wot! Chap has the right t’stand or sit as he jolly well pleases, without your bottle-nosed inquiries, flamin’ fatbellied boat-bobber! Shove some salad down that great gob of yours an’ give it a flippin’ rest!”
“I was just about to do that, sir,” Bargle shouted cheerfully back, “but I can’t find the salad fork noplace. But we all trust you, mister Florian. You will find it!”
Adding insult to injury, Mayon roared out, “Aye, you’ll get t’the bottom of things, won’t ye, sir!”
The outraged hare loaded two plates high with food and marched off, balancing a flagon of October Ale between the platters. “A frog’s feather for you lot. I’ll go an’ dine elsewhere. I’m not standin’ here t’be insulted!”
“Then sit down if y’dare!”
Redwallers held their aching ribs, sobbing with laughter, as much at Bargle’s parting shot as at the sight of Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop, strutting off with a heavily bandaged rear end.