“No, but the wretched cove does look pretty rancid.”

“So he does. Splendid. Sit here, you rancid rat!”

Skipper patrolled the ranks of defeated troops and eyed them sternly.

“Sight tight, vermin,” he said sternly. “Keep your paws on your heads, where I can see them. First one to make a funny move goes straight back into that water on the end of a pike. Understood?”

Young Dinny and Ben Stickle fed them bread and milk.

“Here you blaggards, eat this and drink up. Though the way you’ve behaved toward us, we shouldn’t be giving you anything.”

“Hurr, too roight. Oi’d give’ ’ee ditchwatter an’ frogtails if’n oi ’ad moi way.”

A weasel tried to snatch the bread from a stoat. Dinny cuffed him soundly round the ears with blunt digging claws. “None o’ that yurr, please, or oi’ll sett ’ee atop o’ yon cattingpult an’ shoot ’ee into middle of ’ee lake,” he threatened.

There was no fight left in the vanquished Kotir troops. Most of them looked grateful to be fed and treated civilly by their captors. Lady Amber and her archers sat in low boughs, bows and arrows ready in the event of an uprising.

* * *

Martin was otherwise engaged. He made his way further along the bank, away from the bustle and noise. Standing at the north edge of the lake, he watched Tsarmina’s progress in silence. The wildcat Queen was obviously making her escape bid, leaving her army to its fate. She paddled between Kotir and the shore, whilst behind her the fortress crumbled and splashed into the water under the ballista’s constant battering. The wildcat Queen floated steadily toward land on the upturned table.

Martin drew his sword. “Boar the Fighter, help me this day,” he whispered, remembering its maker. Then the warrior mouse limped along the shoreline as fast as his injured limb would permit, on his way to intercept the enemy.

* * *

Tsarmina paddled in to land and sprang ashore. Ignoring the activity on the east side, she stared miserably at Kotir. There was no further need of rock missiles; the flood had done its work. With a rumbling crash, the last of the roof caved in. The whole structure disintegrated, splashing into the great lake. There was a boiling of muddy brown bubbles, then the lake surface went still under the gray midday sky, rippled only by the soughing wind.

Kotir was gone from sight forever!

Tsarmina threw back her head in an anguished yowl and ran to the water’s edge, drawing back swiftly as the wetness touched her paws.

“I have kept my promise to you, cat. Kotir has fallen!” A stern voice called out from behind her.

The wildcat Queen froze, fearing to turn around.

“Gingivere, is that you?”

Martin strode to the water’s edge and stood a short distance from his mortal enemy.

“I am Martin the Warrior, son of Luke, friend of Boar the Fighter.”

Tsarmina turned to face her foe. “So, it is you. Well, my little warrior, where are your woodland allies? Not here to help you?”