THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-Nine

Droge was still having a ball being a ball.

Of all the hedgehogs at Redwall, young Droge prided himself in being the champion roller. He could curl himself into a tighter ball than anybeast, and propel himself with unmatched speed and accuracy. And so, while his Aunt Balla was busy attending to the second-floor dormitory windows, Droge entertained himself by hurling his bristling young form this way and that across the north lawns. It was a good place for such rowdy behavior, since most of the Abbeydwellers preferred the sunnier east and south lawns for their leisure.

Unfortunately, Balla was so busy with her chore and Droge was so busy with his rolling that they both failed to notice the five Northland rats who'd come down from the walltop for a rest on the soft grass. Looking to remain apart from the Redwallers so as not to cause them any trouble, they chose a spot on the north lawns, halfway between the wall and the main Abbey. Since there was nobeast around except for the two 'hogs, it seemed a safe place to relax on the inviting greensward.

Finishing with her last window, Balla turned and saw that Droge was nowhere in her immediate vicinity. His frenzied rolling had carried him a good distance across the grounds. Scanning about until she finally spotted him, she gasped to herself and yelled, "Droge, watch it!"

But it was too late. Droge was brought up short with a solid thud. There was a startled cry of pain, telling Droge that he'd connected with his victim spine-first. And the deep, gruff voice was not that of a familiar Redwaller.

"Yeeoow!"

Resisting the urge to immediately launch himself back the way he'd come, Droge uncurled and sat innocently gazing up at the rat who stood glaring down at him, massaging his pricked backside with both paws. The young 'hog put on his most angelic smile, hoping to bluff his way out of this situation as he had done earlier with Machus.

But Wolfrum the rat was not Machus.

The other four rats remained seated, laughing boisterously at their companion's mishap. "Harr harr hurr! Wolfrum got hisself runned over by a baby 'og!"

"Yeah ... haven't seen 'im dance like that since that wasp stung 'im on the bum up north!"

Wolfrum stared down at Droge with eyes that were misting over red with rage. He was not the handsomest of creatures to begin with, but his expression now made him look like some horrible ogre. The sight set Droge's spikes quivering in fright.

"I'm .. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Rat, sir!"

Wolfrum laid his claw on the hilt of his sword and started to draw the weapon. "Not sorry enough!"

Balla arrived on the scene at that moment, bustling over as fast as her short legs would allow, the window pole slung over her shoulder. She was not the least bit intimidated by Urthblood's battle-hardened vermin, especially where her nephew was concerned. This was her home turf, and she wasn't about to let any Northland bully push her around on Redwall's own grounds.

"Hey, what's goin' on here?" she demanded.

Wolfrum paused, blade half-drawn from its scabbard. He was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner by anybeast except his commanding officers. But his anger remained unabated. "Does this little hellion belong to you?"

"'ee's my nephew." Balla pulled Droge up onto his footpaws, sensing that a swift escape might soon be in order. "What's with the sword, rat?"

"The brat impaled me, that's what!"

"Well, I'm sure 'ee didn't mean ta. Didja, Drogey?"

"No'm, Auntie Balla." Droge hung his head, peering up through eyes that were as big as he could make them.

"Well, then, go on an' apologize right an' proper t' this rat."

"'m sorry, Mr. Rat. Very, very sorry."

"Good lad." Balla patted Droge on the headspikes and turned him back toward the south lawns. "You run along now, an' don't go stickin' yer spines inta anymore beasts."

"Hey, I weren't done with 'im!" Wolfrum protested as Droge ran off. "The li'l rotter wounded me! I demand satisfaction!"

"Oh?" Balla bounced the long pole on her shoulder, glad for the quarterstaff pointers that Montybank had given her these past few seasons. "You jus' scared my nephew's spines straight. The tyke's 'ad a hard 'nuff time. T'were an accident, 'ee apologized, an' I'm sure 'ee's learnt 'is lesson." She glanced around at Wolfrum's rear end. "An' as fer yer 'wound,' jus' go soak yer bottom in our pond, an' you should be good as new in a trice. Nobeast's come to any real harm. Let it be."

"Not good 'nuff!" Now Wolfrum's sword came all the way out of its sheath. "Young brats like that've gotta disciplined. He's got punishment comin' to 'im, an' I'm the rat that's gonna give it to 'im!"

Balla saw that the barbarous rat would not be satisfied until he'd had blood, and Balla's would do if Droge was beyond reach. Fortunately, none of his fellow rats were rallying to Wolfrum's aid. Perhaps they had more sense than to pick a fight with their hosts, or perhaps they found the whole thing amusing, since it wasn't any of them who'd felt Droge's pointy backside. But none were stepping forward to play peacemaker either, so Balla wasn't sure what would happen if a real fight broke out.

"Well, we'll see what yer fox cap'n has t' say 'bout that, 'cos 'ere 'ee comes right now."

Balla had been looking over Wolfrum's shoulder. The rat turned, thinking Machus was approaching from behind him. The instant his attention was off Balla, the cellarkeeper swung her window pole down from her shoulder and drove one end into Wolfrum's stomach.

The rat doubled over with a surprised groan. Before he could recover, Balla smacked the rod hard against Wolfrum's paw. The sword fell from his numbed grasp. Balla immediately stepped forward to stand upon the blade with both feet, depriving her adversary of his weapon.

"I said let it rest, rat! Or d'you wanna find out th' hard way how tough we Redwallers really are?"

Balla had the business end of her window pole aimed at Wolfrum in case he was determined to press the matter. The rat began to sway on his footpaws, ever so slightly at first but then more noticeably, making it difficult for Balla to keep the rod centered on his belly.

"Hey, no tricks, rat or I'll - "

Balla never got a chance to say just what she'd do. Wolfrum spun suddenly to one side, then in toward Balla. By the time she could react, she was thrusting her pole at empty air.

Wolfrum dodged the rod, grabbing it himself, and now it was Balla's turn to take a poke in the stomach. For a few moments they struggled, but the Northlander's superior strength and training won out, and Balla was quickly pushed off her feet and relieved of her weapon.

Wolfrum cast aside the window pole and snatched up his sword. He held the point at Balla's throat, pinning the hedgehog to the ground.

"That were a pretty good move, fer a fat lady 'hog," he sneered, "but didja think I never had no quarterstaff trainin' m'self? This ain't no bumblin' country rat you've gone an' picked a fight with. Lessee now, I ain't gonna kill you, that'd be discourteous. But I think I'll take yer ear fer a sooverneer. Which 'un'd you rather do without, yer left," he flicked the swordtip against that ear, "or yer right?"

One of the other rats plucked worriedly at Wolfrum's sleeve. "Hey, Wolf, you better - "

"Shaddup, Speeg." Wolfrum's attention was all on Balla, squirming beneath the pressing blade. "I got business t' take care o' here. Don't interrupt. Well, 'hog, which lug will it be? Or should I take yer tongue instead? You don't seem t' be usin' it much, all of a sudden."

Balla looked up at the wickedly grinning rat, then once more past Wolfrum. "I plan on keepin' alla my parts, friend, but you might be losin' some 'o yours, judgin' by the look on that fox's face."

Wolfrum's gaze did not leave his prisoner. "Heh heh, that's a good 'un, ain't it mateys? Thinks she can fool this rat twice with th' same ruse. Whaddya take me fer, one o' yer - "

A fisted paw stuck Wolfrum solidly in the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the ground, stunned.

The other rats had moved back to make room for Machus, who this time really had come up behind Wolfrum. The fox bent down and grabbed the hostile rat's sword while Wolfrum rolled around clutching his head and moaning.

Balla got to her feet and nodded gratefully to the swordfox. "Much obliged. I was a-fearin' this brute were gonna slice me up."

"My apologies, Balla. This idiot seems to have forgotten where he is." Machus whacked the protrate rat with the flat of his own blade. "Wolfrum! What in the name of seven hells do you think you were doing?"

Wolfrum cringed into a sitting position, cowed by the authority of Urthblood's second-in-command. "But, sir, her son stabbed me!"

"Nephew," Balla curtly corrected. "An' it were jus' some prickles, no hard spikes. All an accident. Droge was jus' playin'."

"Yes, he bumped into me earlier, and no harm done." Machus glared down at Wolfrum. "And he didn't injure you so badly that you couldn't fight. Lucky for you I got here before you could do any real damage. If you'd drawn one drop of this good hedgehog's blood, I'd have drawn a lot more of yours."

Wolfrum gulped, as the color drained from his face.

Machus studied the rat's sword. "You won't be getting this back anytime soon. I have half a mind to send you into our next battle without it, just so you can see how it feels to be an unarmed beast facing armed warriors. Ah, well ... I hope you enjoyed your rest here, because you'll be spending the night outside the walls."

"But ... but what if that mad badger an' his hares show up? I'll be slaughtered!"

"You should have thought of that before you drew your sword on a Redwaller. Now, if you survive the night, maybe we'll let you back inside for a decent breakfast ... but only if you swear never to do anything so staggeringly stupid again!"

Machus turned to the other rats. "In fact, I'm sorely tempted to banish all of you for the night. Were you just going to sit by and let this moron harm a Redwaller, without lifting a paw to stop him? Nothing like this is to happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

The four chastised rodents muttered and mumbled and nodded meekly.

"Good. Now get this worthless pile of flea-bitten fur outside, and out of my sight!"

Machus certainly had the command of his troops. The four rats jumped smartly into action, taking Wolfrum by the arms and leading him away toward the north wallgate. Wolfrum made no further protest; he knew how useless that would be.

Maura came bustling around the corner of the main Abbey just as the rats departed. The badger matriarch held Droge by one paw. She looked at Balla and Machus, then to the rats, and back again. "Trouble?"

"Nearly," said Machus. "But it's taken care of."

"Oh? From what Droge told me, he thought one of those rats was going to split his aunt wide open. You okay, Balla?"

"Who, me?" Balla shrugged casually. "Take more'n a stinky ol' rat to end my days, Maura."

"Didja wallop 'im good, Auntie Balla?"

She grinned down at her nephew. "I got me a good poke or two in, Drogey." Slinging her retrieved window pole back over her shoulder and taking Droge's paw from Maura, she headed back toward the Abbey. "Come along, y' liddle ripsnorter. After I get this 'ere ratsticker put where it belongs, you can help me do some tastin' down in th' cellars."

The two hedgehogs wandered off one way, while Machus nodded politely and took his leave of Maura to rejoin his fellow foxes up on the walltop.

Maura was left standing alone on the north lawns, having been hastily summoned to a crisis that had evaporated before she'd even arrived. But from what she'd just seen and heard, she suspected that Redwall had come a lot closer to seeing bloodshed this day than anybeast was admitting.

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A gentle summer rain fell over Redwall that night, kissing the Abbey and its grounds with a light veil of moisture. Wolfrum's expulsion had been witnessed by enough of the wallgate otter guards and the squirrel sentries on the walltop so that his banishment was no great secret. All that Balla would tell Vanessa and the other Abbey leaders was that he had been nasty toward her and Droge, and deserved to spend the night outside. Machus backed up this version of events in equally vague terms, and since Maura had not actually been on paw to see the altercation for herself, she could provide no insight to the matter.

But there were two signs - neither missed by Vanessa - indicating that this incident had been more serious than Balla and Machus were letting on. First was the way Machus and Mina had conferred in hushed tones just before dinner, whispering so that nobeast could overhear their stone-faced exchange. The other sign, and the one that was much more telling to Vanessa, was that Droge was not boasting of this adventure to his fellow youngsters. Normally the carefree hogchild would be bragging of his bravery to every pair of willing ears he could find, but today he was holding his silence. Droge was shaken up ... and it took a lot to shake up that youngbeast.

Otherwise, nobeast had come to any harm, and if Balla did not see fit to pursue the matter, Vanessa felt she could only leave it at that. The culprit was barred from the Abbey as punishment for his behavior, and both Mina and Machus insisted that this was sufficient. Disciplining their troops was their business, they maintained, and this had been done.

And so, while most of the Abbeybeasts settled into their soft beds lulled by the soothing patter and shush of the light rainfall that washed the countryside, Wolfrum was forced to seek out the scant shelter of the nearest trees. He grumbled and cursed at the fates that would leave him out of doors, alone and unarmed, on such a damp night. In his solitary grousing he blamed every creature he could think of - Droge and Balla and Machus and his fellow rats and even Lord Urthblood - every creature except himself.

The only other beasts who took more than passing note of the gentle summer shower were the night sentries on the ramparts and at the wallgates. The otters didn't mind the wetness at all, and Urthblood's troops mostly just shook it off, since it was a rather pleasant nighttime rain and they'd had to fight and march in far worse weather up north. Only the rats muttered a few sour complaints between themselves, while the Redwall squirrels fretted over their big bushy tails getting wet.

Morning dawned clear and glorious. Since the rains left the lawns more heavily sodden than the usual morning dews, breakfast was served in Great Hall. Friar Hugh and his helpers did themselves proud with an offering of blackcurrant pancakes with sweet hazelnut cream sauce, hot elderberry tarts, and a magnificent wild plum crumble from a recipe of old Friar Hugo's.

Machus and his fellow foxes mingled with the woodland creatures of the Abbey as best they could, hoping to foster trust and friendliness. The effort was only partly successful, and not just because most of the foxes preferred to keep to themselves. While most of the Redwallers no longer openly distrusted the brush-tailed, black-clad swordsbeasts, it was still strange to find them sharing the same table.

Urthblood's rats, however, made little effort toward diplomacy. After their wet night of sentry duty up on the wall, their mood was hardly friendly, and they wanted only to satisfy their hunger and then get some sleep. They sat apart from the Abbeybeasts, which suited both groups just fine. Even the wonderful food seemed lost on them, doing little to improve their dispositions.

When breakfast ended, the Abbess was relieved to see most of the rats slink off to their assigned dorm rooms. Enough extra beds - well apart from the regular Redwallers' dormitories - had been found to accommodate all of the Northlanders, if they slept in shifts.

"Not exactly a cheerful bunch," Vanessa remarked to Machus. "I'm glad they're turning in. We don't need such sullen and irritable creatures around while we're going about our daily chores."

"Hardly appropriate for the little ones, either," Maura added. "We don't want another repeat of what happened yesterday. Whatever that was."

"Rats are natural-born complainers," Machus said, choosing to ignore Maura's ironic tone. "You'd think after all the hardships they knew up north, they'd be more appreciative of this soft detail here at Redwall, even if they do have to spend an occasional night standing watch in the rain. If you hear any of my foxes complain, it will be about having to stay behind while Lord Urthblood goes off to battle."

"Possible battle," Maura put in.

"If there is fighting, we should be there." Machus threw a glance toward Lady Mina, who sat nearby with Alexander. "We did not stay behind by choice. Not that the defense of Redwall is any slight matter, Abbess. Lord Urthblood would not have ordered us to remain here if he didn't feel it was important. But if the battle takes place elsewhere, My Lord will need every pair of fighting paws he can get. Most of my brigade has been with him for many seasons. It is difficult for us to stand behind the safety of these walls while Lord Urthblood faces this challenge away from this Abbey. But I have never disobeyed his orders before, and I won't start now."

Machus stood, motioning to two of his fellow foxes. "Tolar, Andrus, come with me a moment before you retire. It's time to see how our exile fared during the night."

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Wolfrum had finally managed to fall asleep propped up against the trunk of a big old rowan. It wasn't a particularly comfortable spot to spend the night, but that didn't stop the rat from sleeping well past sunrise, trying to make up in quantity what his slumbers lacked in quality.

Finally, the day blossomed too fully for even him to ignore. Amid the boisterous morning song of countless birds and the incessant buzz of insect noises, Wolfrum rolled out from between the rowan's root forks and forced himself into a slouching stand. His poor uniform was wet and rumpled and moss-stained, but he was mindful only of the slight hunger tugging at his gut. Grumbling, he dipped into his pack for another of the hard, unappetizing ration biscuits that Urthblood's troops ate when there was no fresh food at paw, and cheerlessly began nibbling at it.

A sparrow named Roofbeam, out foraging from Warbeak Loft, fluttered down a few paces from Wolfrum. She cocked her head a few times, studying the disheveled rat from several different angles, then announced, "Wetrat all muchruffled. Not verra nice."

Wolfrum growled and reached for his sword, thinking how good roasted bird would taste, before realizing he was still without his blade. In disgust, he hurled the half-eaten biscuit at the Sparra. "Ah, gerrout o' 'ere, y' bothersome featherbag!"

Roofbeam caught the biscuit adroitly in her beak, tested it, and dropped it at once. Not only was it rock-hard, but the nibbled edge was moist with rat saliva. Even to a sparrow, accustomed to eating insects and worms, this was too much to stomach.

"You eat, toohard for Sparra. Me gofind good wormfood." With that, Roofbeam flapped away, leaving Wolfrum standing with paws clenched at his sides.

"Right, that's it!" the rat bellowed, starting out of the trees and toward the Abbey. "I'm gettin' me some o' that real Redwall food, if'n I hafta bang their damned gates down wi' me bare claws! They can't keep me out 'ere, while they all chow down on their fine grub ... ain't decent, or right!"

It turned out Wolfrum did not have to knock a single time, or even call out to the walltop sentries. He was still some distance from the south wallgate when he heard the creak of the door hinges and saw the trio of swordfoxes emerge into the pasture outside the wall. Wolfrum slowed his pace; eager as he was to be back inside Redwall and feasting on their delicious fare, he did not relish facing Machus again after the previous afternoon's dressing-down.

The three foxes held a grim silence as the rat approached. Wolfrum glanced from one unsmiling face to the other; Urthblood's swordfoxes knew how to cow a soldierbeast with just a look. "Well," Wolfrum said, "can I come back in?"

Machus ran his cool gaze up and down the hangdog rat, then stepped aside so Wolfrum could enter the open gateway. "All right. But no more trouble, do you understand?"

"Okay. Sure. Uh, do I get my sword back?"

"You'll get it back when I decide you get it back," Machus snapped. "Let's see how you conduct yourself for awhile."

"Yes ... uh, yessir." The glum rat, head down, went into the Abbey. Behind him, the three foxes exchanged knowing glances, then followed.

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The same gentle rain that had fallen over Redwall had also dampened the second night's sleep for the soldiers of Lord Urthblood's main force, now a day and half's march south of the Abbey. Camped along the roadside beneath the spreading canopy of thick forest, which now crowded either side of the path, the sleeping troops were mostly shielded from the raindrops. The dying embers of the cookfires sputtered and sizzled with the few wayward droplets that successfully penetrated the leafy layers of Mossflower, but for the most part the marchers were able to spend their slumbers in relative dryness and comfort.

The rain had let up by sunrise, and breakfast was taken in an eerie borderland where bright sunshine and thick morning mists battled for prominence. The mists got help from the breakfast cookfires, but in the end nature's mighty lantern won out. The clinging white vapors were but a memory as the army assembled in the road to form up into its travel column.

Even though the sun was still too low to send its rays very far into the shady depths of Mossflower, the morning was already quite warm, with the threat of worse to come. For now the column was protected by the shade of the tall trees that lined the east side of the road, but that would change as the day wore on. If the previous day had been perfect for marching, this one promised to make the long walk an arduous chore.

Winokur and Warnokur were taking their places at the head of the column when a large bird swooped down and landed in the road a short distance ahead of the army. Winokur recognized it as the same tunic-clad falcon who'd met with Lord Urthblood on his second day at Redwall. The badger strode forward alone to take the winged warrior's report.

"What do you suppose that's about?" the young otter wondered aloud.

"Prob'ly nothing," answered Captain Saybrook. "Not at all unusual fer Lord Urthblood t' take reports from 'is birds durin' a march. Doesn't want to walk right into any nasty surprises, is all."

The falcon took to the air after only a brief conference. Urthblood returned to the column. "What can the two of you tell me about the bridge that lies to the south?" he asked the two Redwallers.

"Bridge?" Winokur shrugged. "I've never been this far south of the Abbey before. I don't know anything about a bridge in these parts."

"Nor I," his father said. "I know there's a broadstream about another day's march south of 'ere, M'Lord, but it's crossed by a ford. No bridge over it last time I was there."

"Well, there is now," Urthblood stated. "A rather elaborate construction, if Captain Klystra's report is any indication. Ah, well - we shall see it for ourselves by this evening. Our day's march should take us to that river. And this mystery bridge will make our journey much easier than it otherwise would have been. My appreciation goes out to the beasts who wrought it. But for now, we must be on our way."

The column had soon settled into a brisk pace, winding its way south along the road. As it had been on the day before, the roadside was absolutely clear of onlookers; this far south of Redwall, the resident woodland creatures would not have heard of Urthblood yet, and they could only assume that some terrible horde was passing through their midst. Timid gentlebeasts and slinking villains alike cleared away from the path at the approach of the army, none daring to venture close enough to see that otters, shrews, mice, moles and hedgehogs marched side by side with rats, weasels, stoats and ferrets in this assembly.

"Hey, Warny," Saybrook asked Warnokur, "since you know these parts o' Mossflower better'n anybeast here, is there any pond or stream hereabouts where a grunt can cool 'is paws or have a swim? Ol' Mother Nature's turnin' up th' heat on us t'day, an' I don't fancy a long haul like yesterday's without a chance fer a dip somewhere along the ways."

"Hafta wait fer evenin' then, Cap'n," Warnokur replied, "'cos it'll take that long t' reach the river, an' there ain't no pools or trickles 'tween here an' there. Me, I'll be lookin' to take a dive right off th' middle span of this bridge we been hearing 'bout, just as soon as I set my footpaws on it!"