Outcast Of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  The big badger’s jaw tightened. ‘What of our friends, Tirry and Bruff and their families; did Swartt find their dwelling cave?’

  Skarlath’s fierce eye winked. ‘No, they are safe. The horde entered Mossflower further south. Tirry and Bruff are out of their path, more northerly.’

  Suddenly, the cake was forgotten. Sunflash rose, taking the hawk with him, and said, ‘Come to my forge room, Sundew, and tell the Officers of our Long Patrol to meet me there urgently. This is a counsel of war.’

  A dozen or so big lean hares of both sexes gathered in the forge room for the counsel of war. These were the Officers of the Long Patrol, tough and skilled in the fighting arts. Sunflash sat on the window seat, and Skarlath perched on the sill. The Badger Lord let his kestrel speak.

  ‘This ferret has a horde greater than any ever seen, far too big to be met in the open. You have not got a quarter of their numbers, but I have been busy raising help – that is why I got here so late.’

  A hare carrying a long sword spoke out. ‘Help, old chap – what sort of help?’

  Skarlath pointed north with his outspread wing. ‘Guosim shrews; their Log a Log has promised me six logboats of shrew warriors, to come in from the sea and strike at the rear of the vermin when they arrive on the beach.’

  Sunflash nodded his approval. ‘That is good; if the horde of Swartt is as large as you say, we will need all the help we can get. Have you any other ideas, Skarlath?’

  The kestrel preened a few crumbs from his pinions, saying, ‘Give me the talisman you wear about your neck, Sunflash, and I will seek the help of otters and squirrels.’

  ‘Take it and fortune fly with you, my good hawk!’ said the badger, as he looped Elmjak’s greenstone leaf about his friend’s neck.

  Skarlath bowed his head slightly to the Officers, then he was gone, shooting like an arrow through the open windowspace.

  Then Sunflash addressed the hares.

  ‘Our main fighting will be done from the mountain. We have supplies here, food and water to last us, and that puts the foebeast at a disadvantage. Their provisions are carried with them and cannot last long. Now, is there anything we can do to harass them while they are down on the shores in front of here? I am open to suggestions.’

  Sabretache, the hare who carried a long sword, put forward an idea that had worked in the past against invading searats. ‘Milord, we can dig long trenches, line ’em with sharpened stakes an’ cover ’em with rush mats disguised by sand, wot?’

  ‘Good idea, but surely they’ll see them.’

  A female hare called Hedgepaw held up a light javelin. ‘Not if me’n’a few jolly old Sleepers give the blighters a taste of these, they’ll run straight into the blinkin’ pits.’

  The badger looked puzzled. ‘Sleepers?’ he asked.

  The most senior hare, a rangy male named Colonel Sandgall, winked knowingly at Sunflash. ‘Sleepers, sah, take too bally long to explain what they do, but rest assured that each of these blighters, who fondly call themselves Officers, have a job t’do an’ can do it rather well, doncha know. Beggin’ y’pardon, milord, but if you concentrate your efforts fortifyin’ all entrances an’ exits at ground level then we’ll see to the rest. Actually, I think the right form for the present is to marshal an’ arm all the troops, wot?’

  Sunflash was impressed with the confidence and ingenuity of his hares; he knew that despite their affected speech manner they were dangerous beasts and expert warriors. But he had a final word. ‘Good enough, I’ll leave you Officers to it. However, stay away from the Warlord, Swartt Sixclaw – he’s mine!’

  Every hare in the forge room knew by the look on the Badger Lord’s face that he would brook no interference in the matter of his sworn enemy. They saluted smartly and went off about their duties.

  Overnight, Salamandastron was transformed into a military garrison. The hares emptied both forge room and armoury of weapons; and bows, arrows, slings and rocks were stacked at every rock slit and window in the mountain. Young ones were taken deep inside to the central inner caves. Old ones took over the forge, repairing, sharpening and creating weapons. Random trenches were dug halfway up the shoreline; sharpened stakes stuck up from the trenchbeds. Boulder piles began to grow from halfway up the mountain, ready at the removal of wedges to topple down on any foebeast.

  Sunflash worked with a team he had selected. They moved around Salamandastron’s base, blocking off entrances and exits with boulders cemented together by powdered limestone and sand mixed with water. The main entrance was blocked by a large, rough-timber gate. Old harewives began baking extra food, readying the sickbay for wounded and manufacturing poultices.

  In the midst of all this activity Sunflash stopped for a moment, to gaze sadly out at the areas he had cultivated. The salad garden had been stripped bare to allow the hares to set up a large, timber-framed rock catapult. He shrugged, sighing deeply. All this peace and beauty that he was trying to create would be ruined by war.

  A war which began two dawns later.

  * * *

  27

  ‘Where has my little blue honeypot gone?’

  Friar Bunfold wandered distractedly around Redwall’s kitchens, mixing batter in a bowl that he carried as he went, searching hither and thither. ‘Sister Orris, watch those pasties, they’re beginning to leak gravy on the floor. Has anybeast seen my blue honeypot? I had it with me on the cooling slab, just after breakfast. Bryony, did you move my honeypot, you know, the small blue one?’

  Bryony placed a tray of scones on the windowledge to cool. ‘No, Friar, I’m sorry, I haven’t seen it. Maybe you left it in the wine cellars when you went down for damson juice.’

  Bunfold beat the mixture in the bowl furiously with his ladle. ‘No, it never leaves this kitchen. That pot was very special. It belonged to my mother, and she gave it to me when I became Friar here. Ahh! Young Veil, c’mere, where’s that honeypot, eh?’

  Bunfold put aside the bowl and caught the ferret by one ear, shaking him vigorously.

  ‘Yeeeaah! Lemme go! Yowch!’ Veil squealed. ‘I don’t know anythin’ about your ole honeypot! Aaaaargh! Bryony!’

  The mousemaid was between the two like a flash, pulling Veil from the wrathful Friar’s clutches. ‘Leave him alone this very instant, Friar Bunfold! How dare you treat Veil like that! Why should he know anything about your honeypot? You’re always blaming him if anything goes missing!’

  Sister Orris looked up from her pasties. ‘That’s probably because Veil is usually the one responsible!’ she said.

  Bryony turned on the Sister. ‘That’s not fair, he’s changed! Veil only did things like that when he was a Dibbun!’

  Myrtle the hogwife shook her paw disapprovingly at the ferret. ‘Aye, well, he ain’t a Dibbun no more, but things’re still goin’ astray.’

  Veil ran behind Bryony and, poking his head over her shoulder, he stuck out his tongue at Myrtle. ‘Yah, fatty ole spiky, go an’ boil your snout!’

  ‘What in the name of goodness is going on here, may I ask?’ Abbess Meriam had glided in unnoticed. Silence fell in the room. She looked from one to the other. ‘Please explain all the noise and shouting.’

  The explanations came thick and fast, everybeast trying to get their say in at once.

  ‘That liddle robber, he’s taken my honeypot!’

  ‘No, he never, Abbess, they’re always blaming Veil!’

  ‘That’s ’cos he’s always to blame, missie!’

  ‘No, he isn’t, you’re all against him!’

  Meriam held up a paw for silence. ‘Friar Bunfold, did you see Veil take the honeypot?’ she asked.

  ‘Er, well, no, I didn’t, Mother, but I know it was him!’

  ‘He never, Mother, he never!’

  ‘Keep out of this, Bryony! Veil, did you take Friar Bunfold’s honeypot?’

  ‘No, Mother Abbess, I never took it, an’ he twisted my ear!’

  Meriam pursed her lips at the Friar. ‘Please, do not ever do that again. There will be n
o violence in this Abbey. Come immediately to me if you have a grievance against anybeast.’

  She turned away from the chastened Friar and placed a paw under the ferret’s chin, lifting his head. ‘Look me in the eye, Veil. Now tell me, and I want the truth, you have nothing to fear, did you take the pot?’

  Veil blinked back tears as he tried to return Meriam’s gaze. ‘I never took it, Mother Abbess!’

  Meriam’s paws disappeared automatically into her wide sleeves. ‘Then the matter is finished and done with. Nobeast saw Veil take the pot; he should not have been accused without proof. I believe him when he tells me he did not take it. As for your honeypot, Friar, I know it is valuable to you, so we will instigate a search right away. Togget, you will recruit any Redwaller who is not busy at the moment, bring them here and let the search begin.’

  Bryony felt so angry at Bunfold and Myrtle that she could not bring herself to help with the search. Putting a paw around Veil’s shoulders, she led him out into the orchard. The fruit trees and berry bushes were still; not a single leaf moved in the shimmering warmth of midday. Bees humming and the muted sounds of birdsong from beyond the walls in Mossflower added to the tranquillity of the verdant glade. Bryony sat beneath a gnarled apple tree. The Abbess’s reprimand to stay out of the dispute weighed like a stone on her heart.

  She patted the grass beside her, saying, ‘Come and sit by me, Veil.’

  The young ferret remained standing, pulling the leaves, one by one, from a redcurrant’s foliage. ‘We’ve missed lunch y’know,’ he sniffed.

  Bryony folded her paws and hunched forward, head down. ‘I don’t know how you could even think of food at a time like this, I’d be sick if I tried to eat anything. Take an apple if you’re so hungry.’

  Veil plucked a rosy apple that was ready to drop from a low bough. He bit into it, spat out the piece and flung the apple away rebelliously. ‘Don’t want one! They’re all against me in this Abbey!’

  He dashed off out of the orchard. Bryony half rose, calling after him anxiously. ‘Veil, come back, I’m on your side, you know that!’

  But he was away, dashing off to the bushes near the south wall stairs, a place he often went to in times of trouble.

  Bryony sat alone, her mind in a turmoil. Since Veil had been a Dibbun things had gone missing, and each time she had defended him, never able to believe he was the thief. Often he was caught red-pawed, then she would apologize for him, lectures would follow, then tears and solemn promises from Veil that he had changed his ways. Bryony knew he had not, but she had cared for him, nursed him and comforted him; the mousemaid loved Veil as if she were his real mother. Standing upright Bryony wiped her eyes and clenched her paws resolutely. Today would begin a new era. She would assure Veil of her faith in him, show him that others could like and trust him if he was honest with them. He would discover happiness through goodness, and together they would learn to shake off the clouds of mistrust, until Veil earned the respect of all Redwallers!

  The young ferret was growing tall and strong, lithe and sinewy like the father he had never known. He sat in the cover of the bushes alongside the south wallsteps, tossing the blue honeypot in the air and catching it skilfully with his agile, sixclawed paw. Smiling craftily, he licked the last of the honey from inside the pot’s rim. Maybe he might have sneaked it back into the kitchen when it was empty. But no! Friar Bunfold had twisted his ear; the fat stupid mouse would pay for that, by never again seeing his beloved blue honeypot.

  Bryony knew where Veil would be. She climbed the east wallsteps in the afternoon heat and wandered slowly along the battlemented top of the outer wall, hoping to catch a cooling breeze. Seeing the bushes moving in Veil’s hiding place she remained silent, peering down to see what he was doing. The blue honeypot rose above the bushes as he threw it high and caught it. Bryony held her breath and ducked low, and she bit her lip hard to stop herself crying out.

  Holding the pot close in to his side, Veil hurried over to the Abbey pond. Nobeast was there to see him, they would all be inside the Abbey at lunch. Bryony had watched him from her position on the walltop; now, scurrying bent low, she dashed around the battlements, descending the wallsteps at the southwest corner. Arriving at the opposite side of the pond, she peered through a screen of rushes at Veil.

  He filled the pot with water and spoke to it. ‘Thanks for the honey, always tastes sweeter when it’s stolen. Nobeast will ever see you again, just think, I’m the last creature on earth to touch you. Goodbye, little blue pot!’

  He threw it high over the pond, drawing in a breath sharply as he realized that he had thrown it too hard. The pot flashed blue in the sunlight as it splashed down at the far side, right in the centre of the rushes. Bryony crouched low, watching Veil.

  He stood on tip-paw, peering across the pond, not able to see the pot. Then the young ferret laughed, shrugged, and ran off towards the Abbey, thinking that perhaps there would be some lunch left.

  It was mid-afternoon when Togget found the pot, nestling in the top of an open sack of hazelnut kernels. Friar Bunfold was overjoyed, though Abbess Meriam tapped her footpaw thoughtfully. Why had the Friar’s pot reappeared empty, clean and washed?

  Bryony could not bring herself to face Veil, because she knew he would deny everything. Either that or he would wheedle and weep, explaining it all away until everybeast in Redwall, with the exception of himself, was to blame. The mousemaid felt an awful sense of guilt, but she could not have left the pot in the pond, knowing how much Bunfold valued it. Returning it secretly was the only thing she could do in the circumstances. Sighing heavily, Bryony tried putting the entire incident to the back of her mind. The mousemaid loaded up a tray with cooled mint tea, damson preserve and some scones freshly baked that day, adding a scoop of meadowcream.

  Bella watched the doorlatch rise and the door swing slowly inward. Bryony entered, tongue sticking from one side of her mouth as she balanced the tray she was carrying. The ancient silver badger beamed fondly at her friend. ‘What a good little mousemaid you are, bringing noontide tea to a helpless old fogey like myself!’

  Setting the tray down, Bryony arranged the old badger’s shawl snugly about her huge shoulders and opened the window to let in a breath of fresh summer air. She poured tea for them both, and set out the rest of the food. Then she perched up on the arm of Bella’s chair.

  The ancient sipped tea, watching Bryony over the top of her tiny spectacles. ‘So, my friend,’ she said, ‘what’s troubling your little heart?’

  ‘Oh, this and that. Bella, have you been good all your life?’

  The badger’s chuckle sounded like a deep rumble. ‘Bless you, no, sometimes I’ve been quite naughty, like now, piling all this damson jam and cream onto one scone. Shame on me!’

  Bryony laughed as she watched the scone vanish in two bites. Wiping cream and preserve from Bella’s lip, the mousemaid continued, ‘What I mean to say is, d’you think anybeast could be naughty all the time and never be good at all?’

  Bella took another sip of tea. ‘Ah, that’s the difference, pretty one. Most creatures can be good most of their life and naughty sometimes, just like you and me. Others are good and never naughty, like Abbess Meriam. But then there are the other kind, those beasts who never do good, because they don’t know how to and won’t listen to any advice from goodbeasts. Naughtiness can grow and grow, like a marshweed, until it turns to badness, then if it continues there is only one name for it. Evil!’

  Bryony put aside her scone and tea. ‘Have you ever known an evilbeast, and if you did, well, did they change and become goodbeasts?’

  The old badger shook her head. ‘Questions, questions, why all the questions, my little flower? You should be out in the sunlight, enjoying your seasons with the other young Redwallers. Wait, let me guess. Do you know somebeast who is evil, is that why you ask me?’

  Bryony got down from the arm of the chair. ‘No, Bella, I don’t know anybeast who is evil, a little naughty maybe, but not bad or evil. I thi
nk that others can drive a creature to naughtiness, always accusing and blaming them. After a while it must make the creature unhappy and drive him, er, or her, to be naughty, because nobody expects them to be good, that’s what I think.’

  A heavy paw descended gently on Bryony’s shoulder. ‘I think we both know the creature you are talking about, little one. Maybe it is the fault of Meriam and myself for accepting such a one into our Abbey.’

  The mousemaid began fussing with the shawl and plumping up cushions around her friend. ‘You’re wrong, Bella. I know you are old and very wise, but you’re wrong. I don’t know who you’re talking about. Time for your afternoon nap, marm. Shall I leave the window open?’

  The great silver badger closed her eyes, saying, ‘Whilst there are creatures like you on earth there is hope for others, my young friend, but don’t waste your youth and kindness upon hopeless cases.’

  Bryony touched a paw to Bella’s lips. ‘Sshh! Enough now, you need your sleep.’

  Leaving the room quietly, the mousemaid closed the door carefully behind her. Noticing that the door to the sickbay was ajar, she looked in, expecting to see the slender mouse Sister Withe, the Infirmarykeeper and Herbalist.

  Veil was in the sickbay; he had his back to Bryony, unaware of her presence.

  ‘Veil! What are you doing in here?’ she said, sharply.

  Veil started at the sound of her voice. Bowls and jars clattered and fell as the ferret stammered, ‘Er . . . er . . . Nothing! I . . . I . . . er, I was just looking around.’

  Bryony pointed to the door, eyes alight with anger. ‘Get out of here this instant before I report you to the Abbess.’

  Veil pushed past her, protesting his innocence. ‘I wasn’t stealing anythin’, honest I wasn’t!’