Outcast Of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  Duddle draped a napkin over his paw, muttering as he gravitated between stove and table carrying heaped dishes. ‘To hear is to obey, my violent violet, the banks’d be strewn with chopped-off tails if you had yore way. Gangway there, you ravenous rovers, make way for this wild cherry an’ meadowcream pie, move that jug o’ cowslip cordial, somebeast.’

  Eyes widened as dish after dish was brought to table.

  ‘One basin o’ rivershrimp an’ watercress soup!’

  ‘Whitecheese with sage an’ acorn, hot ryebread cottage loaf!’

  ‘Almond an’ chestnut slices with redcurrant preserve!’

  ‘Damson an’ greengage pudden. Been up since three hours afore dawn cookin’ all this. Streambank salad with hazelnuts!’

  Sunflash had both young hogs sitting on his lap. Clematis Roselea clasped his massive paw, cautioning him. ‘You must be very good, sir, jus’ like me. Don’t dare touch anything until the table is set. Or else . . .!’

  The Badger Lord pulled a frightened face and made the tail-chopping motion. Little Arundo nodded wisely. ‘Ho yeth, my mama even chopth badgerth tailth off!’

  Breakfast meandered on until past lunchtime. There was so much to tell: tales of mountain, waterfall and riverbank filled the cabinhut, and Arundo and Clematis Roselea listened open-mouthed, as their elders related stories, histories and reminiscences. Sunlight darted between the floating lilies of silent water meadows and shaded inlets as the raft cruised smoothly, wending its way down the broad river. It was, as Bryony later summed it up, ‘A good time full of friends and fine food!’

  Whilst Duddle went out on deck to tack into a north and east waterway, Rockleg persuaded Fleetrunn to sing a riddle song. She began by tapping a lively rhythm on the tabletop and, when they were all tapping in time with her, Fleetrunn sang.

  ‘My first is in boulder and I have a stone,

  My second is thrice in an apple alone,

  My third may be found at the end of a hem,

  My fourth starts a stick and a stop and a stem,

  My fifth’s in the middle of pop, but not pip,

  My sixth is the second you’ll find in a snip.

  My first half can stop up a broad river’s flow,

  My second half no daughter, the other you know.

  I’m found in pudden and pie and good wine,

  And I know all your names, so can you tell me mine?’

  There was much scratching of heads and gnawing of paws as they tried to find the answer to Fleetrunn’s riddle song. Grinning cheerily, Duddle popped his head in the window. ‘Ahoy! I was listenin’ to yore tune as I was standin’ at the tiller. Well sung, Fleetrunn, I ain’t heard the ole damson riddle song in many a season, my ole dad used to sing it!’

  Tutty flung an apple core at Duddle; he ducked and came up still smiling, saying, ‘Did I say something amiss, my liddle flowin’ duckweed?’

  His wife stamped her footpaw, glaring at him. ‘Flowers an’ follies! You just told us the answer when y’said damson riddle song; ’tis a damson, ain’t it!’

  Duddle climbed through the window and helped himself to a ladle of damson and greengage pudden. ‘Right first time, my winnowing willow, do I win a prize?’

  The company fell about laughing as Tutty seized Duddle’s ear. ‘Pennycloud an’ poppies! I’ll give ye a prize, you can wash all the pots’n’dishes, that’s yore prize, you great waterbumble!’

  Throughout that day laughter broke out afresh as Rockleg strode the deck of the raft, imitating Duddle skilfully. ‘Is it a damson, my delightful dandelion? Fetch me a prize!’

  * * *

  46

  Abbess Meriam was quietly enjoying the change of season. Paws tucked into her wide sleeves, she glided through the early morning mist which wreathed the orchard as if a cloud had fallen upon it. The coming days would see the beginning of harvest time, apples ranging from red to russet brown contrasted with mellow golden pears. Damp and dawn-dewed, the berries trailing from vine and creeper shone like jewels.

  Meriam paused to look up at the vast Abbey rising from the mist; its warm red sandstone appeared softer, more dusky, in the day’s first hours.

  Without warning, the little molemaid Figgul came dashing through the misty ground swathe, and collided with the Abbess. Meriam steadied herself against a chestnut tree. ‘Lack a day, little one, you nearly knocked the paws from under me. What is it?’

  Figgul held up a fallen elm leaf excitedly. ‘Hurr lookee, marm, ee leafs be turnen brown!’

  Abbess Meriam smiled down at the mole, stroking her head. ‘It’s called autumn, the leaves become like this because trees do not need them in the winter season. You’ll be able to help with the harvest, Figgul. I recall last autumn you were too small. Remember, Sister Withe let you sleep most of the day in an apple basket, but now you are big enough to help fill the baskets. Come on, we’d best go in to breakfast.’

  Abbess and molemaid were soon swallowed up by the mist as they crossed the lawn towards Redwall’s main Abbey door.

  ‘Hurr, can oi cloimb to ee top of arpel trees, marm?’

  ‘No, no, we don’t climb the trees; if you shake the lower boughs the fruit that is ripe will fall.’

  ‘Burr aye, then oi be a bough shaker an oi shake ’em gudd’n’ ’ard!’

  ‘You’ll have to watch you don’t shake any down onto your head. I remember a little mole named Togget doing that – he was knocked senseless by a big green pie apple.’

  Hazy sunlight was dispelling the ground mist as Sumin the squirrel rapped his javelin on the threshold gate of Redwall. He had travelled through the night to reach the Abbey. He knocked once more. Barlom’s voice called to him as he paced the path impatiently.

  ‘Who goes there? Is it you, Sumin?’

  ‘Of course it is, you know my knock! Open up, friend!’

  The Recorder mouse swung the gates wide enough to admit the sturdy squirrel. Barlom brushed his paw along Sumin’s tail. ‘Tut, tut! Look at you, drenched in dew. Come and dry off.’

  Sumin merely shook himself and strode purposefully off across the lawn towards the Abbey building. ‘No time for that, mate – got news for the Abbess!’

  Breakfast dishes were still being cleared; the servers dawdled close to the Mother Abbess’s chair, staring curiously at Sumin, to overhear the news. Meriam fixed them with a cool glance as she rose from table, saying, ‘Busy paws are far more useful than busy ears.’

  Hurriedly, they resumed their duties. Meriam indicated by a flick of her eyelids that she would see Sumin in her study. When Sumin and the Abbess vacated the dining place, speculation broke out among the Redwallers.

  ‘What d’you suppose it is?’

  ‘Hope it’s not vermin headed this way or anything nasty!’

  ‘Ole Sumin looked as if he’d been travellin’ hard, eh?’

  Foremole spoke to them over the top of a tablecloth he was folding carefully into a neat oblong. ‘Burr, ee be gurt gossipers! Oi ’spect ee h’abbess will tell you’m all when she’m gudd’n’ready, hurr aye, so she’m will.’

  For what seemed an age the Abbess and Sumin remained closeted together, while the squirrel related news of the victorious battle. More Redwallers left off their chores and found excuses to be inside Great Hall, where they all stood about, doing nothing, yet trying to look industrious.

  Friar Bunfold and Myrtle the hogwife came from the kitchens followed by a retinue of cooks and helpers. The Friar clapped flour from his paws and installed himself in the Abbess’s chair. ‘Might as well wait in comfort, come on, sit down you lot, no use pretendin’ yore busy when you ain’t. I’m plain nosey, always have been, make no secret o’ the fact.’

  Bunfold had just finished speaking when Meriam and Sumin entered. The Friar leapt up as if he had been sitting on a tack; vacating the Abbess’s chair he began busily polishing an imaginary stain from the tabletop with a corner of his floury apron.

  Abbess Meriam shook Sumin’s paw heartily, smiling one of her rare smiles.

/>   ‘Thank you so much, my friend. I’m sure there is lots of good hot food in the kitchens if you haven’t eaten today.’

  The stout squirrel needed no second invitation; he strode off eagerly. The Abbess flicked a little flourdust from her chair and sat, pausing to look around the waiting faces before she started speaking.

  ‘By tomorrow noon I would like a feast set up. I know Redwall banquets have always been without equal, but let us try to make this particular one legendary!’

  Myrtle raised a paw, trying to tease more information out. ‘Er, ’ow many will we be cookin’ for, marm?’

  Meriam’s answer set them wondering. ‘Twice as many as usual should be adequate, Myrtle.’

  Heartwood the old otter banged his walking stick down. ‘Mother Abbess, will you please tell us what is going on here? Who are we expecting, why the legendary feast, tell us!’

  A loud rumble of agreement echoed around Great Hall.

  The Abbess held up her paws placatingly until silence fell. ‘Please, friends, I know it looks as though I’m teasing you, but honestly, I’m not. All I can say is this. We are going to be visited tomorrow by friends, some old and others new to us. The reason why I can tell you no more is simply because gossip travels, and I do not want the surprise spoiled for a very dear friend, who shall remain nameless for the moment. So I appeal to you as Redwallers, do your job, well and silently, and I know you will be rewarded by a sight such as Redwall has never seen, the visitation of a great creature to our Abbey. I’m sorry, but that is all I can say for the present.’

  Sister Withe banged the table so hard that everybeast jumped. ‘Well, that will do me fine! Your word is good enough for me, Mother Abbess, and I’m sure I speak for all Redwallers!’

  Everybeast hurried to agree.

  ‘Aye, my lips are sealed!’

  ‘Say no more, marm, nod’s as good as a wink t’me!’

  ‘You’m can trust us’n’s, marm, ho urr!’

  ‘Right! Let’s get to it!’

  ‘Aye, what’re we all stannin’ about like apples in an oven for? Come on, Redwallers, stir yore stumps!’

  That day and the following night Redwall became a hive of activity. Flower gardeners staggered in under masses of blooms and blossoms, delivering them to mouse and molemaids appointed as table decorators. Otters performed acrobatic feats alongside squirrels, garlanding high wall and windowledges with streamers, lanterns, flowers and flags. Crisp white table linen was unfolded and aired, embroiderers working on linen serviettes, and place mats. Fresh-dyed rush carpeting was spread on the twice-swept stone floors. Beeswax candles were trimmed and stuck in spiked sconces. Standing on a wide shelf in the kitchens, Friar Bunfold directed cooking operations, calling out in his high squeaky voice as he kept a professional eye on all.

  ‘Bring more firewood, I need those ovens hotter than hot!’

  Cooks called aloud to him as they worked.

  ‘Will this be enough wild cherries an’ almonds for the slices?’

  ‘No, bring two bowls more, nothin’ worse than skimped cherry and almond slices. You moles there! Make sure you lift that little un out of the deep bowl before you put in yore deeper’n’ever pie mixture, we don’t want a small mole baked in a pie!’

  ‘Hurrhurr, oi doan’t moind, zurr, oi’d be warmed an’ fed at ee same toime, hurrhurr!’

  ‘Coom out’n thurr, Puckle, an’ stop scoffin’ ee pastry!’

  ‘Big fruitcake’s about ready for the oven, Friar!’

  ‘Righto, Myrtle, start mixin’ strawberries in with the meadowcream, not too many now, it’s got to be pink, not red!’

  ‘Watershrimps an’ fresh button mushrooms, Friar, ottertwins just brought ’em in – where d’you want ’em?’

  ‘Oh, right! Take them to Heartwood, and tell him not to let that hotroot pepper get near my hazelnut scones!’

  ‘I ’eard you, Bunfold, the hotroot’s goin’ nowheres near yore scones; tell that squirrel to keep his honey away from my soup!’

  ‘Brushtip, did you hear Heartwood? Mind what yore doin’ with that honey – put plenty in the scone mixture. Oh, well done! That’s a nice lattice tart cover, nothin’ prettier than a blackberry an’ pear tart with a good crisscross lattice of pastry on it. Open the top ovens, I can smell that bread, it’s ready!’

  ‘Friar, will you tell Brother Frimble that the cream is supposed to be piped onto woodland trifle in swirls, not blobs!’

  ‘Oh, stop fussin’, do it in swirls with blobs in between. Don’t slice those candied chestnuts so thin, I like to see a fruitcake with chestnuts in big lumps on top, holds the maple syrup glaze better.’

  Casks trundled out of the wine cellars, a Redwaller pushing each one, swerving and chuckling as they dodged others rolling cheeses from the storerooms. Trestles were set up to take the barrels of October Ale from the previous autumn, and jugs filled with cordials, fizzes and fruit cups were placed on serving trolleys. Windowledges were lined with breads, cakes and scones, set out in rows to cool. Dibbuns waited as pails of crystallized fruits and nuts were opened, dabbing their paws into any of the thick syrup that overflowed onto the tabletops. Redwallers shuffled by each other on the dormitory stairs, some going down to work, others coming off duty to rest a few hours. It was activity the whole night through to next morning, two hours after daybreak.

  The raft lay moored at a place named Wuddshipp Creek. Its passengers were met by a deputation of otters and squirrels, led by Skipperjo and the squirrel Redfarl. The warriors who had beaten Swartt off the path to Redwall stood lined on the banks as an honour guard. Pennants of bright hues tied to their lancetips and bows, they stared in open admiration as Sunflash the Mace came ashore. He was clad in a red cloak and wearing a tunic of creamy white belted by a woven green sash. He looked every inch the Badger Lord, from the mighty gold-striped head, which towered over even the long ears of his two hares, to the fearsome mace dangling from his massive scarred paws. When everybeast was assembled on the bank, Redfarl winked at Skipperjo; he cocked an ear, listened awhile, then nodded to her. ‘Right y’are, marm, you do the honours!’

  Redfarl bowed low to Sunflash. ‘Sire, I beg yer, wait a moment, there are creatures comin’ who have travelled far an’ long to be with ye. Will ye tarry a moment, they’ll be with us soon.’

  The unmistakable voice of the squirrelhare Jodd sounded from beyond an ash thicket, further down the bank. ‘This way, chaps, easy as y’go, wot. Ah, there they are!’

  The lanky hare emerged leading a small band of creatures. ‘What ho! Lord Sunflash, sah! An owl name o’ Wudbeak told these goodbeasts you’d be comin’ this way, and they insisted on journeyin’ from their cave to be with you!’

  Sunflash cast aside his mace and dashed to them, shouting, ‘Tirry Lingl! Bruff Dubbo and Elmjak! Oh, my good friends! Dearie! Lully! Look at how your little ones have grown!’ The two molemaids and the four young hedghogs squealed with delight, threatening to topple the badger as they hugged his legs and footpaws.

  Sunflash embraced the old moles. ‘Uncle Blunn and Aunt Ummer, you look brisk as bumblebees!’

  Whilst the Badger Lord was greeting his friends, Jodd wiggled his ears at Fleetrunn. He made an elegant leg at the pretty young hare, obviously stricken by her. ‘I say, where’d you spring from, missie? You can call me Jodd, all the chaps round here do. Er, would y’like to know my full name, miss?’

  Redfarl shook her head at Fleetrunn. ‘You don’t want ter know that un’s full name!’

  Fleetrunn smiled coyly at Jodd. ‘S’pose I’ll get to know your full title soon enough, wot!’

  Rockleg was an older hare and a confirmed bachelor; he winked at Skipperjo. The otter leader chuckled. ‘Wait’ll she sees ole Jodd tuckin’ vittles away at table, that’s enough to put anybeast off ’im fer life, matey!’

  Skipperjo began bustling and hustling around the assembly. ‘Stir yore stumps, me hearties, we can’t dawdle ’ere all season, there’s still a fair ways to go t’the Abbey!’

 
Dearie Lingl and Lully Dubbo extricated Sunflash from their young, who were swarming over him like ants.

  ‘Bitty, Giller, Gurmil, Tirg, leave ’is pore Lordship alone, you’ll ’ave ’im wore out afore he’s much older!’

  Lully called to her two daughters, ‘Yurr Nilly, cumm Podd, show ee badger zurr wot us’n’s bringed furr ee ’awkburd.’

  She drew a small white cheese from under her apron and gave it to the molemaids, who presented it to Sunflash. The Badger Lord accepted it, shaking his head sadly. ‘Come, friends, let’s go to Redwall Abbey. I’ll tell you some very sorry news as we walk.’

  * * *

  47

  Sister Withe and Abbess Meriam were greatly surprised at what they found, on entering Bella’s room, in the early morning of the day when Redwall was expecting its visitors. They were certain that nobeast had spoken of the coming festivities to Bella. Yet there she stood, shining silver from brush and comb, clad in a beautiful woven cloak of light purple, her head garlanded with a coronet of gillyflowers and young white roses.

  Meriam bowed instinctively before the regal old badger, saying, ‘Bella, you look magnificent!’

  The silver badger picked up the carved, silver-mounted stick she used for walking. ‘Thank you, Meriam, I felt that I must look my best on the day I meet my son the Badger Lord.’

  Meriam gasped. ‘But – how did you know? Who told you? Nobody but I knew—’

  Bella sat in her armchair and shook the stick. ‘Long before you knew of my son’s arrival, I was told of it in a dream.’

  Meriam nodded understandingly. ‘Ah yes, your badger ancestors, no doubt.’