THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Fifty-One

Fitkin the ferry shrew could see and hear the army approaching from a long way off.

He sat atop the timber roof of his partially-collapsed hovel in the morning sun, watching with keen interest. This force was much larger than the troop of hares whose badger commander had caused him so much grief. As they drew nearer, it was easy to see that there were no hares amongst this horde. They seemed to be mostly weasels (or stoats or ferrets, they were all the same to Fitkin), and that worried him a little. Fitkin had done business with vermin in the past, but an army this size could be real trouble. Small gangs usually left him alone, knowing they might have need of his services someday, and he was good enough with a blade to take care of any lone troublemakers who drifted his way.

But now, his deserted ferry raft sat upon the opposite shore where the badger and his hares had stranded it, leaving him in no position to offer crossings to anybeast. As for his generous surplus of stock and belongings, as mighty a horde as this would simply take anything they wanted. If they were a particularly bloodthirsty lot, he'd be lucky if they left him alive. Fitkin might have fled, but there were few places to hide in the Plains, and short shrew legs were not made for outrunning larger beasts. If they meant him harm, there was no way to escape now, but if they were peaceable, something might be gained by holding his ground and putting on a brave face.

Fitkin watched some more, and his wonderment grew. Many of those beasts at the front of the broad column weren't vermin at all, but honest-to-goodness otters, marching right alongside actual weasels! From his slightly elevated perch, Fitkin could make out long gaps in the procession, which could only mean that shorter creatures such as mice and shrews occupied those stretches, in between all those rats and weasel-types. Perhaps they were slaves ... but those otters didn't look like prisoners. And at the fore of them all, crimson armor shining in the morning sunshine, strode a mighty badger warrior who could have been the twin of the one Fitkin had faced days before.

"What in the name o' flaming fur's goin' on here?" the ferry shrew muttered to himself.

The troop column drew to a halt, stopping almost upon Fitkin's doorstep. There was barely room for them to pass between his dugout hovel and the river's edge.

The badger studied Fitkin with a steely, penetrating gaze. "Greetings, friend shrew. Have you had some trouble?"

Nobeast could have missed the tumbled-down appearance of the structure's front section that Urthfist had collapsed, or the grimy layer of dirt coating Fitkin's fur and clothes. The shrew snorted.

"Been three days diggin' m'self outta my own home. This morning's the first sun 'n' fresh air I've had in all that time."

The badger studied the narrow tunnel and small mound of pushed-out dirt at the base of one wall. It looked like it had been dug by bare paws without the aid of tools, an observation borne out by the raw and soiled look of the shrew's forepaws. No surprise that it had taken three days.

The grungy beast grumbled on. "Can you believe, in all my stocks, I didn't have a single shovel? Broke my sword early on, tryin' to dislodge some rocks in my way. Hadta work in the dark, too - wasn't gettin' enuff air down there to risk lightin' candle nor lantern. Thought fer awhile I might be a goner. But old Fitkin's a tough nut, an' I weren't gonna let that nasty badger turn my home inta my grave, no sir!"

The red-armored beast before him straightened to full attention. "Badger, did you say?"

Fitkin nodded. "Most ill-tempered ruffian I e'er seen, an' I seen my share, believe you me. Came along three, mebbe four days ago, him an' his fourscore hares. We was negotiatin' fer me to get them all across, when he picks me up, hurls me inta my toll station, and pulls the roof down, shuttin' me inside." He motioned to the far bank. "While I lay inside, stunned an' helpless, those rude thieves crossed themselves on my boat, an' then left it abandoned over there. Now, how'm I s'posed to get my livelihood back, I ask you?"

A young otter from the front of the column, wearing a monk's habit, stepped up alongside the badger. "Why did they want to cross the river? Did they say where they were going?"

Fitkin nodded. "Up Redwall ways. Said something bad was goin' on in that part o' Mossflower, an' expected there'd be lotsa fightin' an' killin'. Didn't wanna part with any o' their weapons, said they'd be needing every one. That bunch was goin' to war, an' no mistake."

The otter looked to the badger gravely. "You were right, Lord. Urthfist's making for Redwall. And from the sound of what went on here, he doesn't seem to be in a very reasonable state of mind. What do we do now?"

The badger said to Fitkin, "Are you sure about the number of hares he had with him?"

"Sure as shivers I am. 'Twas eighty, or mebbe eighty-one, think they said they had an extra one travellin' with 'em. I remembers it 'cos I was figgerin' how many trips across it'd take t' ferry the whole lot of 'em. Guess they didn't like the final tally, 'cos they sealed me in my home an' pulled themselves across. An' that's stealin', plain an' simple!" He glanced between the two beasts. "I take it ye're acquainted with those rabble rousers?"

The badger nodded. "My brother."

"Yah, I thought I saw a resemblance. His armor weren't red like yers, but otherwise ye're like enuff as two peas in a pod. So, what's the deal 'tween you two? Family feud or sumpthing?"

"It appears he is intent upon challenging me for the Lordship of Salamandastron. Unfortunately for him, he is travelling in the wrong direction for that." The badger gestured to the otter in the habit. "I am Lord Urthblood, and this is Winokur of Redwall. As you may well imagine, your tidings bear greatly upon both of us."

Fitkin looked at Winokur. "Thought that's what those robes hadta be. What's a Redwaller doin' marchin' in this crowd?"

Winokur waved a paw back toward Warnokur. "My father here has been in Lord Urthblood's service for a season. But I am travelling with them to serve as the official representative of Redwall, to negotiate a peaceful settlement between Urthblood and Urthfist, if such a thing may be worked out."

"If my brother crossed this river three days ago, he is probably at Redwall by now." Urthblood gazed upon the mountains, which now loomed large ahead of them and to their right. "By this time tomorrow we should be past the mountains and onto the coastal plains, and reach Salamandastron on the following day. I see no way my brother could overtake us, unless he turned around before reaching Redwall. And if he has eighty hares with him, that means he left only twenty behind to guard the mountain. A risky move, with Tratton so powerful these days. Hopefully the searats will have left Salamandastron alone. But it is all the more reason for us to make haste, so that we may install a proper force there to keep the coastlands secure from Tratton."

"But, what about Redwall?" Winokur said. "If your brother's gone there, and he's not thinking right ... "

"What would you have us do?" Urthblood countered. "We are far from Redwall; my brother is probably already there. But your home has high walls, sturdy gates, and many capable defenders, including those I assigned from my own forces. Machus would not allow their vigilance to grow lax. My brother could not catch them unaware. And, we may hope, his hares are not so misguided by his delusions that they would war against woodlanders, even though he may."

"A good point." Winokur turned to Fitkin. "How did Urthfist's hares strike you? Did they seem as riled up as he was?"

"Well ... " Fitkin thought it over. "They did seem to be bargainin' with me in good faith, until that big bully broke in an' pulled my home down around my ears! Mind you, those hares were a grim bunch, an' they didn't seem overly fond o' my terms, but we mighta worked out sumpthing. Then again, you'll notice none of 'em bothered t' dig me out an' see if I were still alive, after their master had his way with me!"

"It doesn't matter," Urthblood said to Winokur. "Redwall will have to fend for itself without us. I am confident they will manage, as long as they keep their heads and defend the Abbey as they would from any enemy. My brother and his hares won't be able to get into Redwall if the Abbess doesn't want them to. Fitkin, I am grieved that you were caused so much misfortune by my errant sibling. He only came this way because he heard that I was at Redwall. Although I may not tarry here long, let me do what I may to make up for my brother's misdeeds."

"Okay by me," the shrew readily agreed.

Urthblood dispatched two of his otters to swim across the river and retrieve the ferry raft. While they boarded and were pulling it back to the south shore, Urthblood personally helped a team of his strongest otters and weasels to unblock Fitkin's abode and prop up the fallen timbers into a temporary doorway that would serve until the shrew could shore it up properly.

Presently the army was ready to get underway again. The delay here had amounted to less than half an hour, but they were minutes that had forged a new friendship and gained Urthblood a new ally on the Western Plains.

Fitkin inspected his reopened hovel, then went to his ferry, making sure Urthfist's hares had done the craft no harm. "I'm mighty obliged, Lord," he thanked Urthblood. "Um, don't suppose you'd be needin' ferry service anytime soon? You've entitled yerself to a whoppin' big discount."

"We will be crossing this stream, but not until we reach the other side of the range, where the river re-emerges from the mountains and crosses the coastlands to the sea. Fare thee well, good Fitkin. I do not imagine that we shall meet again this season."

"Good travels t' you, Lord. If ever you or yer troops need my help when ye're in these parts o' the Plains, don't hesitate to call on ol' Fitkin."

The ferry shrew sat atop his home once more as the army marched by. His breath nearly caught in his throat as the procession went on, and on, and on. He'd not really been able to see before how truly massive Urthblood's force was, or how varied. These fighters numbered five or six times Urthfist's hares, and included almost every type of creature Fitkin could imagine. Many gave him friendly nods or salutes as they passed, and the shrew brigade of Captain Bremo held high their shortswords to the sky and unleashed a hearty hail as they tramped past their fellow shrew. Fitkin was moved as he hadn't been in many a season.

A platoon of rats, one of several in the column, brought up the rear, and then the army was past, receding into the flat distances of the Western Plains. Already, Lord Urthblood and the head of the column was lost to sight. Fitkin sighed to shake himself out of his parade stupor, then lept down to light a lamp a give a closer inspection to the wreckage inside his toll station. Now that he was back in business, he had to get things in order. The next paying customer might happen his way at any moment. As long as it wasn't an irate badger with fourscore hares, he'd be happy.

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The squirrels of the Forest Patrol moved like a red wind through the treetops of Mossflower, leaping from branch to branch as they blazed their arboreal path north.

"Stay close!" Alexander shouted to those in the vanguard. "We don't want to get ahead of the marchers! We're here to cover their rear flank, in case they're pursued!"

Those in the lead, heedful of their chief, paused on their limbs and branches, waiting for the rest to catch up.

Alex stood balanced in the deep fork of a tall oak. He glanced down. Directly below him, Machus and his troops streamed past, picking their way between the trees. The swordfox was keeping his group tightly together, in spite of any clear trail in this part of the woods, and he kept their pace brisk. Still, it would be very easy for the fast-moving squirrels to outpace them if Alex didn't keep a close eye on things.

Lady Mina settled onto the branch alongside him. "They're making good time," she observed. "A run through thick forest is never as easy as a march along an open path."

"Do you really suppose Urthfist might try to follow us?" Alex wondered.

Mina shrugged. "Who can say what goes through the mind of a Badger Lord? I would not presume to suppose what Lord Urthblood is thinking most of the time, and I have had many seasons to get to know him."

"Well, at least we're putting some good distance between us and Redwall, in case he gets any ideas."

"Machus and I are still counting on your Abbess being able to keep Urthfist at the Abbey for some time," said Mina. "If he sets his mind to a serious pursuit, he could close the gap very quickly. And Machus will have to leave the cover of Mossflower eventually, since Salamandastron is our goal now. That means no more squirrels to give us cover from the trees. If Urthfist and his hares catch up to us in open country, we will be hard pressed to fend him off."

"Then you'd better stay to the woods for as long as you can."

"That's the plan."

Elmwood and two others came leaping through the canopy toward them. They were the trailing rearguard of this mission.

"No sign of pursuit, sir," Elmwood reported. "The woods are clear for as far back as we could see."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way." Alex turned to Mina. "Come on, we don't want Machus and his troops to get too far ahead of us, even if any attack would most likely come from behind. Keep our back door covered, Elmwood. We'll see you again at our next rest."

"You can count on us, sir." Elmwood and his two companions spread out to form a wider line through the trees, to better guard and protect the marchers' rear flank. Alexander and Mina jumped and leaped forward through the canopy, racing to catch up with the rest.

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Urthfist and his hares drew to a halt at the open south wallgate.

The Abbess, Montybank, and a few of the other Abbey creatures stood just outside the entryway to greet the badger's forces and escort them inside. Urthfist merely stood and looked at them in silence for some moments, then turned to his commanding hare.

"Major Safford, organize a double Patrol of six hares, and take them in for a thorough scouting of the Abbey. You'll want Hanchett with you, since he's the only one of you who's familiar with the inside of Redwall. Put three up on the wall to secure the ramparts and keep a high watch on the grounds. The rest will go over every patch of ground and through every room and passage of the Abbey itself. I want this place scoured from top to bottom for any sign of vermin before the rest of us enter."

Vanessa made a dour face as Safford broke formation to pick the scouting team. "My Lord, you don't really suspect we'd invite you into an ambush, do you?"

"Where my brother is concerned, I take no chances, Abbess."

"Your brother is no longer at Redwall, and neither is any creature in his service. I personally have just seen them off through the north gate. You have the word of the Abbess of Redwall on this."

"Good," Urthfist nodded. "Then my scouts should finish their survey quickly, if there are no enemies here to find."

Vanessa shrugged in exasperation. "Have it your way."

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Major Safford put Captain Taywood in charge of the inspection Patrol; the Major thought it best that he remain outside with Urthfist.

As soon as they were through the wallgate, Taywood sent one hare up to each north corner of the walltop, and a third to stand directly over the south gate. The three of them would be able to survey every part of the Abbey grounds from these positions, without losing sight of each other. Until they were certain that there were no hostile forces remaining within Redwall, it would not do for any hare to become separated from its comrades.

Once the three lookouts were in position and waved an all-clear from the ramparts, Hanchett led Captain Taywood and the other hare Dellow on a run around the Abbey grounds. Hanchett had had several days to familiarize himself with Redwall's layout during his captivity, and knew just about every place where a group of beasts might hide. As many of the Abbey residents looked on, the three hares speedily circled the pond, zigzagged through the orchard, sped through the gardens, and raced around the north side of the main Abbey building on their way back toward their starting point. They poked their heads into the gatehouse cottage, which was empty since Arlyn was still up on the south walltop, then paused for a moment's rest on the steps into the main building.

Taywood was breathing heavily by the time they'd finished their circuit of the grounds. Leaning back on his heels to take in the majestic red sandstone edifice that towered above them, he whistled. "Had no idea ... this bally place ... was so blinkin' big!"

Hanchett grinned at his captain. "You haven't seen the half of it, sir. Wait until you see the inside of the Abbey!"

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It was past noon when Taywood, Hanchett and Dellow reappeared through the south wallgate. Urthfist appraised the returning trio with a critical gaze. "That certainly took long enough, Captain. The Major and I were beginning to wonder whether we'd have to send another Patrol squad in after you."

"Redwall's a whoppin' big place, M'Lord," Taywood responded, gesturing to Hanchett. "Lotsa bally nooks 'n' crannies where nastybeasts could hide out, an' yer orders were t' make sure the Abbey was clear, top to bottom. Never coulda done half th' job without this young spy. Hanch did a first class job of mappin' out Redwall in his mind while he was bein' kept 'ere. Don't think a score o' us coulda done half as well in twice the time if we'd gone in cold."

"Good work, Hanchett." Urthfist looked back to Taywood. "So, Captain, you deem Redwall to be free of vermin?"

"Ah, well, I wouldn't exactly say that ... "

The badger's eyes narrowed. "Either it is or it isn't, Captain. Which is it?"

Hanchett stepped forward to stand beside Taywood. "It's that one-eared weasel I'd told you 'bout, sir - the one I was chained to fer awhile. Smallert's his name. He's the one wot accidentally slashed that mousechild."

Flecks of red began to stand out in Urthfist's slitted eyes. His gaze went to the wallgate, which was still standing open for them anytime the Salamandastronians cared to enter. Most of the Redwallers had gone back inside once it became apparent that it would still be some time before Urthfist would be accepting their invitation. Now only a couple of otters stood guard at the gate, and they were too far away to hear what was being said between badger and hares.

Urthfist's heavy paw went to his sword hilt and he took a stride purposefully toward the gate. "Then we must deal with that villain in the proper fashion."

Hanchett jumped in front of his master, striving to hold Urthfist back with both paws pressed flat against the badger's breastplate. He dug in with his footpaws, but Urthfist's momentum was so great that Hanchett's powerful toes actually scored parallel furrows into the earth for several paces before Urthfist saw how earnest his young scout was about stopping him.

"No, sir! You mustn't!"

"Why not?" Urthfist challenged, in no mood for insubordination.

"The Abbess has granted him the protection of Redwall," Hanchett almost tripped over his own words as he hastened to explain. "They've, uh, sorta adopted him, so t' speak. If we cause him harm now, it'll undo everything we're tryin' to do here. The Abbess would declare us enemies an' chuck us outta Redwall again. We hafta respect their ways, M'Lord."

"He's right, sir," Taywood agreed. "We found that weasel sittin' up in the Infirmary with the mouse he'd wounded and the child's brother. The three of 'em actin' like they was best pals. Wouldn't wanna try 'n' explain it m'self, but these folks've taken that vermin in as one o' their own. Like Hanchett says, we dare not violate their laws. We gotta leave that weasel alone."

Urthfist was not entirely convinced. "I am sworn to let nobeast of my brother's remain alive inside Redwall."

"Well, look at it this way, sir," Hanchett said, "he's no longer in your brother's service - "

"Dishonorably discharged, no hope of reinstatement," Taywood put in helpfully.

" - so technically, he's not one of your brother's creatures anymore."

"But he was!" Urthfist roared.

Traveller stepped forward. "And Urthblood was once a pretty decent fellow, M'Lord, before that prophecy came along an' he became all twisted 'n' evil. A beast can change. We've seen it ourselves. Now, I'm inclined t' believe these Redwallers wouldn'ta given this weasel the benefit of their doubt unless they were pretty well convinced he was worth it. An' if they've done that, then we've got to, too."

Urthfist chewed distastefully on nothing. "This does not sit well with me," he said, an air of defeat in his voice.

Major Safford entered the discussion. "We don't none of us hafta like it, but if that's the way it's gotta be, then there's nothin' else for it. It's only one measly li'l weasel, after all, M'Lord. If he's got any smarts at all, he'll have the sense to stay well clear of us while we're here. But Hanchett says he's not an altogether bad egg, an' anyway he's not worth jeopardizing everything we came here for, wot? So let's just forget about the lout, an' get down to the business at paw ... which is puttin' ourselves in Redwall, an' convincin' these folk that we're the bally good guys."

Urthfist's claw finally came off his sword. Hanchett, Taywood, Safford and Traveller stood around him in a crescent, gazing at their Lord both imploringly and expectantly.

"Major, you remind me why I promoted you to your present high rank," Urthfist said at last. "You speak good sense. You all do. I will not slay this weasel. I will abide by this Abbey's rules, just as any visitor to Redwall would be expected to do. Now let us go inside, and be on our best behavior. We must do whatever is necessary to win Redwall to our cause!"