As if taking her advice, the lizards dispersed, hither and thither. Maudie wrinkled her nose.
“Funny, maybe they’ve decided to heed my flippin’ wisdom. Hmm, they’re an odd lot, really, payin’ attention to me. P’raps I’ve got a hidden talent as a lizard lecturer?”
However, after a brief interval the lizards returned, each one carrying several pebbles or pieces of rock. Still keeping out of Maudie’s reach, they placed the lot in a heap. Now the big lizard came forward, he picked up a good-sized pebble. “You will die the death of a thoussssand sssstonessss!”
Maudie saw him throw, she ducked her head to one side. The pebble bounced off the oak, followed by another smaller one, which grazed her ear. Maudie winced.
“Ouch! I say, pack it in, you rotters, where’s your sense of fair play? Yowch, that hurt!” A sharp piece of rock had struck her footpaw. Suddenly, an unearthly screech rent the air!
The lizards stopped what they were doing and fled in silent terror. An owl landed at Maudie’s side, it was a magnificent bird, with feather tufts on its head like short ears. Huge, yellow eyes blinked at the haremaid from a rounded, white face. Maudie could not help flinching as the savage, hooked beak flashed toward her. The rope was sliced through with a single slash of the owl’s beak. His head swivelled around, almost in a full circle as he addressed the haremaid.
“Whoohooooh! Ah’ve no doubt that thee’ll forgive me, tarry there, lass, ah’m fair clemmed for t’want of a lizard!” He swooped off like a mammoth moth, great, rounded wings creating a loud, clapping sound as they smacked together on the downswing.
Maudie instantly remembered the name of the owl, which Bungwen Hermit had told her to watch out for. “Asio Bardwing, and just in the nick of flippin’ time, too! Wonder where he’s tootled off to, wot?”
Blowing on the ashes of her fire, Maudie added more wood, and got it burning again. It was now fully night. Maudie sat patiently by the small blaze, waiting to see if the owl would return. She was starting to nod off again, when he winged in. Perching next to her he nodded, then gave a tremendous belch. “Buuurp! Manners, owld lad! Ah’m right sorry t’be so long, lass, but ah’m right partial to a taste o’ lizard now an’ again. Yon big scoundrel won’t bother thee n’more, nay!”
The haremaid gazed in horrified fascination at the tail of the big lizard, which was still hanging from the side of the owl’s beak.
He noticed, and sucked it in with a quick slurp. “Beg pardon ah’m sure. Wot’s tha name, lass?”
Maudie rose, treating him to a small curtsy. “My name’s Maudie, sir, you must be Asio Bardwing.”
The owl’s yellow eyes went even wider. “Whooooh, how’d thee know that, are ye magic?”
Maudie chuckled. “Actually, I was told your name by an old friend of yours, Bungwen Hermit.”
Asio shook his big, feathered head. “Never heard o’ the beast, ah reckon you’re magic. Maudie, eh? Bah gum, that’s a reet grand owld name, mah Auntie Cordoolia had a second cousin, on Uncle Wilfrum’s side, her name were Maudie, gradely owld duck she were. So then, Maudie lass, wot’s thee doin’ round here?”
The haremaid explained. “Actually, I’m lookin’ for a badger, large, hefty warrior type, carries a flame an’ walks with a banished one. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”
Asio’s head swivelled almost right around. “Thou supposes reet, lass, ’appen ah’ve not seen anybeast apart from thee this season. Couldn’t thee see this badger with thy magic?”
Maudie added twigs to her fire. “Really, I’m not at all magic, honestly.”
Asio waved a talon, which was almost the size of a small dagger, in Maudie’s face. “Fie on thee, ah knows magic when ah sees it, lass. Ah’ll wager thee can read claws, am ah reet?”
Maudie did not like being ungracious to her rescuer, so she humoured Asio. “Read claws? Well, just a little bit.”
Asio hooted happily. “Whoohoohooh! Ah knew thee could, the moment ah set eyes on thee, lass. Here, read mine. Wot does the future hold for me, will ah wed an’ have little ’uns, ah dearly would like to have a mate.”
Maudie had seen fortune telling performed, at the barrack room in Salamandastron, to pass time on long winter evenings. It was all in fun, of course, a bit of harmless trickery. She had never seen it done on a bird, however, but Mad Maudie was always game for anything.
“Righto, old chap, let’s see your claws.”
Asio held up one foot, tipped with four murderously long, curving claws. Maudie gulped at the sight of them.
“Er, righto, now hold ’em still an’ let me see what I’ll jolly well see. Your name is Asio Bardwing, right?”
Asio nodded solemnly. As Maudie strove to think of her next question, he marvelled, “Aye that’s reet, lass, Asio Bardwing of the Big Bardwing nest. How did thee guess that?”
Maudie suddenly realised that she was dealing with an owl who had complete memory blankness. Accordingly, she played her role to the hilt, murmuring darkly, “I know this because I am Mad Mystic Maudie. Do you know a mole they call Bungwen the Hermit?”
Asio gasped. “Aye, old Bungwen the mole, I remember him now, bah gum, he were a good little bloke!”
Maudie made several passes over his claws with her paw. “Silence now, O feathery one, for I see destiny in your blinkin’ claws, wot. I am getting a message from the Big Bardwing Nest, from somebird called Auntie Cordoolia, do you know such a creature?”
Asio looked flabbergasted. “Well, blow me down, she knows Auntie Cordoolia! Wot’s her message, lass, er, mad Misty wotsyername, tell me?”
Maudie peered closely at the big owl’s talons, and saw scraps of the big lizard still sticking to them. She felt slightly nauseous, but continued. “She says you have a long and happy life ahead of you, if you eat less lizards, and more vegetables.”
Asio clacked his hooked beak disgustedly. “Ah were never fond o’ vegetables, but ah’m quite partial to green things, frogs, toads, newts, lizards. Go on, wot else does she say?”
The haremaid intoned in a dirgelike voice, “She says you will meet a very pretty young owl. When you do, you must mind your manners and treat her kindly.”
Asio clenched his talons with joy, almost taking off Maudie’s nose as she reared back. “Tell me more, more!”
Maudie continued, “If you treat her like a toff, she’ll jolly well marry you, and lay scads of bloomin’ eggs. There, that’s all I can see, everything’s gone fuzzy!”
Asio thrust his beak to within a hairsbreadth of her nose. “Wot’s a toff?”
Maudie shrugged. “Oh, er, a nice sort of chap.”
The owl’s eyes circled dreamily. “An’ y’say she’ll lay eggs, eh! Eggs, that’s where little owls come from, tha knows. Bah gum, lass, thankee kindly!”
Maudie shook her head, as if coming out of a trance. “Oh, think nothin’ of it, old bean, us magic hares do this sort o’ thing all the flippin’ time, wot!”
Asio hopped up into the branches of the oak. “Ah’m beholden t’thee, lass, bide there ’til ah get mah owlyharp, an’ ah’ll sing thee a song.” He rummaged about in the foliage until he came up with a beautiful little harp. Hopping back down to the fireside, Asio began tuning it and getting his voice into pitch, whilst he posed dramatically.
Plinkplinkplink…“Toowhoohoohoo!” Plinkplink…
The haremaid felt like covering her ears, it was the most dreadful, tuneless din she had ever heard. But she sat smiling, and looking appreciative, out of courtesy.
The owl’s chest puffed out like a balloon, as he launched into his discordant song. It was actually an owl courtship ballad, containing many drawn-out hoots.
“I’ve spoken to your pa and to your mother, too, whoohoo,
they’ve given me permission for to woo, whoohoo,
so now I can come calling upon you, whoohoohoohoo,
If I say I love you will you love me, too, whooooooooh!
“Cows go moo and doves can coo,
some fish blow lots of bubbles,
too,
but only owls can woo hoo hoo!
“We’ll fly into the sky so high and blue, whoohoo,
I’ll catch butterflies and moths for you, whoohoo,
you’ll be the happiest owl that ever flew, whoohoohoohoo,
I’ll stay forever true, my dear, to you, whooooooooh!
“For limpets limp round in a crew,
they stick together just like glue,
but only owls can woo hoo hoo oooooooooh!”
Maudie’s ears were still buzzing from Asio Bardwing’s hoots, long after he had ended his song. Despite her suffering she clapped enthusiastically, with both ears and paws, in the approved hare manner. “Oh I say, super hunky dory, wot, well done, Asio!”
The owl preened his feathers and took a bow. “Aye, it were rather gradely, even though ah say so m’self. Hearken, lass, shall ah sing thee another?”
The haremaid protested vigorously. “Good grief, no, you must save that spiffin’ voice o’ yours, in case an attractive young owl flaps by. Please don’t wear your blinkin’ beak out on my behalf.”
The owl put aside his owlharp reluctantly. “May’aps yore right, lass, ’ey up, are y’not feelin’ well?”
Maudie lay back, with a paw draped across her brow, doing her best to look pale and interesting. “Oh, I’ll be alright, just achin’ a trifle, from the rocks those lizardy blighters chucked at me. I feel a bit tired that’s all.”
Immediately Asio became the model of sympathy and help. “Right, you lay down there an’ get a good owld sleep, lass. Ah’ll see to the fire an’ keep it goin’. Don’t worry about owt now, ah’ll be up in yon tree, keepin’ an eye out for thee until dawn.”
That night Maudie slept safe and sound, knowing she had no need to worry about sneak attacks, with Asio Bardwing in the tree overhead, protecting her.
Maudie rose refreshed, dawn had already broken, promising a warm summer day. Woodland birdsong could be heard far and near as Maudie blew on the fire embers, coaxing them into life with twigs and dried moss. She liked the woodlands, they were a pleasant change from heathland, mountains and shoreline. The shadow and light of trees afforded sunlit swards, placid dimness and dappled aisles amid the big ancient trunks.
Stretching and yawning, Maudie looked up into the oak foliage. She was not best pleased by what she saw. There was the owl, fast asleep.
Muttering to herself, the haremaid laid out some scones, for toasting. “You have a good night’s sleep, an’ ah’ll watch out for thee, lass. Hah, the bloomin’ old fraud, I could’ve been jolly well murdered in my own bed, with him snorin’ his confounded beak off right over my head! Hmph, I’ll let the blighter snooze on for that, see if he gets any brekkers off me? Fat chance! Anyhow, a cad like that prob’ly doesn’t eat respectable tuck, wot! More likely he stalks the blinkin’ neighbourhood scoffin’ any wretched reptile that blinks an eye at him! Sleepin’ on duty, too? By the left, he’d be on a fizzer if old Major Mull caught him nappin’….”
“Whoohoo, is that toastin’ scones ah smell?” Asio came flapping down from his perch, almost knocking Maudie flat with a heavy buffet from his wings. “Well, ain’t this grand, toasty scones, an’ ah see thee’ve got honey t’spread o’er ’em, too. Ecky thump, lass, th’art a little treasure an’ no mistake!”
The haremaid thought of enforcing her ban on the owl’s breakfast, but one look at the wicked talons stuffing a scone between the razor curves of the lethal beak changed Maudie’s mind. However, she was not her normal cheerful self, and treated Asio coolly as they shared the scones. After they had eaten, the owl began pacing back and forth, swivelling his head. “Ah’ve been thinkin’, lass!”
The haremaid replied snootily, “Oh really, is that where the noise was coming from!”
Asio chuckled. “Nay, pudden’ead, owls don’t make noises when they think!”
Maudie immediately felt sorry for her waspish remark. “Sorry, what was it you were thinkin’, old lad?”
The owl explained. “This badger thou art lookin’ for, ah can tell thee, hide nor hair of him ain’t been sighted hereabouts all season. But if there was such a beast in the land, ah’ll wager somebody at Redwall Abbey would’ve spotted ’im. Aye, Redwall, that’s the place, lots o’ travellers visits there, lass!”
Maudie’s ears stood up straight. “Oh, corks, I’ve just remembered, that’s where I was ordered to go. Redwall. Oh, I’d dearly love to visit that jolly old heap, I’ve heard so flippin’ much about it, from the chaps at Salamandastron who’ve been there. I say, Asio, you don’t actually know how t’get there, do you?”
The owl winked a huge yellow eye at her. “Ah did once upon a day, but ah’ve forgotten now. Still, never fret, lass, ah know who does, an’ ah can take ye to ’em as well!”
Maudie began packing her scant belongings. “Splendid, right, lead on, O feathered matey. Er, by the way, who exactly is it that you know, wot?”
Asio pecked at a few scone crumbs that had stuck to his talons. “Hasn’t thee heard of the Guosim?”
The haremaid stood, ready to leave. “Oh, y’mean the shrew chaps, Guosim. ‘Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower,’ first letter of each word, that’s how they got their name, y’know, Guosim! I came across ’em one time, when I was out with the jolly old Long Patrol. Pretty odd bunch, the Guosim, singin’ and feastin’ one moment, then arguin’ an’ scrappin’ the next, wot!”
The owl’s yellow eyes widened in awe. “Well, blow mah feathers away, lass, ah never knew that was wot the name Guosim meant! Mossflower’s Shrews in Union of Guerillas. How dids’t thou remember all that? Ah were right when ah fust met thee. Magic, that’s wot thee are, lass, magic!”
Maudie did not provoke further discussion with Asio by arguing. She followed him as he set out into the deep woodlands. The owl flew gracefully slow, keeping near to the ground, and gossiping constantly.
“Ah were plannin’ on poppin’ o’er to visit the shrews, but ah went an’ forgot. Woe to birds that gets owld, that’s wot ah says, lass. This head o’ mine has gotten like a leaky pot, nothin’ stays long in it these days.”
Maudie nodded. “Just as long as you know which way we’re goin’, old chap, don’t want t’get jolly well lost.”
Asio hooted scornfully. “Get lost goin’ to Bulrush Bower? Ah could find mah way theer blindfold, an’ with both wings tied behind mah back, lass.”
They ploughed deeper into the vast woodland tracts, to areas where the tree canopy was so dense that only a soft, green light prevailed. It was mossy underpaw, and silent, the monolith trunks of giant trees reared upward, like columns of black stone.
Asio winged toward a soft pool of golden radiance, which could be seen some distance off, remarking, “Ah’d have t’be daft to miss Bulrush Bower, sithee, there ’tis, lass. May’ap we’ll be in time for lunch.”
Maudie perked up at the mention of food. “Indeed, they sound like a jolly lot, can you hear ’em singin’, listen.”
Sure enough, the sound of rough bass voices, both old and young, became plain as they drew closer.
“Ho, truss up me troubles an’ toss em away,
go sink ’em deep down in the waters,
even fathers an’ mothers have grandparents, too,
one time we were all sons an’ daughters….
Guosim! Guosim! Bind ’em sling ’em douse ’em!
With a gee and a you and an oh oh oh,
an ess and an eye and an em em em!
Oh Guosim I’m one o’ them!”
Maudie found herself skipping along to the catchy air.
Asio merely muttered grumpily. “Huh, wot’s all that supposed t’mean?”
The haremaid chided her friend. “Why should it have to mean anythin’, it’s just a jolly happy song, an’ I for one blinkin’ well like it!”
Bulrush Bower was a small pond in a clearing. It was, of course, fringed entirely by bulrushes. The place was packed with Guosim shrews, small, spiky-furred beasts with long snouts. Each one wore a coloured head
band and a broad, buckled belt, into which was tucked a little rapier; their only other clothing was a short kilt. They showed no fear of their two visitors, though one fellow, an aggressive-looking type, drew his sword, barring their way. “Where d’ye think yore off to, eh?”
Maudie bowed formally, she knew how to deal with creatures like this. Her tone was cool and distant. “I’m a messenger from the Lord o’ Salamandastron, take me to your chief. Don’t stand there lookin’ useless, put up that blade, an’ bloomin’ well shift yourself, laddie buck. Sharpish, wot!”
The shrew immediately did as he was bidden, they followed him, with Asio murmuring, “Marvellous! Ecky thump, ah knew the lass were magic!”
A large area of the sunny sward had been covered with picnic tablecloths, it was spread with scores of pies, each one with a cream topping. A fat-bellied shrew, with overlarge ears, was striding around amid the pies. Dabbing his paw into odd ones, he would taste it, then pull a wry face. Turning to meet the visitors, he wiped his lips with a kerchief.
“Asio Bardwing, yore a day late, the festival started yesterday. I suppose you forgot as usual. Hello, who’s this, a friend o’ yourn?”
Asio blinked several times, revolving his head. “This is er, er…oh, tell him who thou art, lass!”
The haremaid held out her paw. “The name’s Maudie Mugsberry Thropple, sah, from Salamandastron.”
The shrew seemed impressed, he shook Maudie’s paw in a grip like a steel nutcracker. “Salamandastron, eh? Welcome, miss. I’m chieftain o’ these Guosim an’ my name’s Log a Log Luglug.”
Log a Log was always the given title for a shrew chieftain. Luglug pointed to his oversized ears. “Don’t even bother askin’ how I came by the name o’ Luglug, or ye could find yoreself in trouble.” Picking up a pie, he offered it to them. “I’d like ye to try this, an’ tell me wot ye think. Our best cook an’ her mate are off visitin’ relatives. So some of the young ’uns volunteered to ’elp out with pie makin’. Wot ye see is the results of their efforts.”
Eulalia! Page 8