The Bellmaker (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  ‘Hurr, you’m sit yurr an’ ee sit thurr, ’old on naow!’

  ‘Two atta time, on’y two atta time, who’s next?’

  ‘Oi’ll take ee round yon bullyrushers!’

  ‘Watch out for big fishes an’ pirates!’

  Blaggut lounged on the bank, proudly watching his two new boats on their maiden voyages. After a while, Slipp came shuffling wearily along and slumped down beside his former bosun. ‘Enjoyin’ yerself are yer, ’avin’ a good time?’ he asked.

  ‘Aye thankee Cap’n, see the boats I made fer my Dibbuns!’

  Slipp cast a weary eye over the two sleek little craft. ‘So that’s ’ow you been fritterin’ the day away, I mighta known, you great lazy loaf’ ead!’

  Blaggut had not expected Slipp to make any nice comments on his achievements. ‘Buildin’ boats ain’t fritterin’ time away, Cap’n. Wot ’ave you been up to all day?’

  Slipp waved airily as if it were no big thing. ‘Oh, they made me ’ead cook, I’m in charge of all the kitchens. Did yer taste my skilly an’duff at brekkfist?’

  ‘Aye Cap’n, it was ’orrible. Yew make a better Cap’n than a cook. The bread was nice though, did y’make that?’

  Slipp was no stranger to fibbing. ‘Baked the bread meself,’ he lied glibly, ‘it was those Abbey mice who made the skilly’ an’duff, they ignored me instructions.’

  Blaggut leaned close to Slipp’s ear and whispered, ’Cap’n, we don’t ’ave to go ’untin’ fer booty tonight, so don’t you worry about that black shadder we saw.’

  Slipp felt the hairs on his nape rise with fear. ‘Shurrup y’fool. Shut yer mouth! I tol’ you never to mention that black shadow again long as you live. It didn’t ’appen, d’ye hear me? There’s no such thing as black shadows. Any’ow, why don’t we ’ave to go lookin’ fer booty tonight?’

  Blaggut told his Captain all, from the boatbuilding to the oath he had taken with the Dibbuns. He smiled slyly at Slipp and winked. Slipp cuffed him roughly on the nose. ‘Y’mean to tell me that those two Dibthings know where there’s secret treasure ’idden, an’ yore sittin’ ’ere like a loungin’ lobster watchin’ em sail round a pond?’

  ‘Bargain’s a bargain, Cap’n,’ said Blaggut, rubbing his nose tenderly. ‘They gotta try out their new boats. Besides, I got to stay ’ere an’ keep an eye on the liddle rascals in case one falls in.’

  Tarquin L. Woodsorrel came strolling up and wagged an ear at Slipp curtly. ‘C’mon Slippy ol’ rat, back to work wot? Lots of sticky pots t’be washed, they’ve been making honey pudden an’ maple toffee apples. Sticks the pots’n’ pans up frightfully y’know. Mellus sent me, said if y’don’t come she’ll be down here an’ fetch you herself, y’don’t want that, wot?’

  Blaggut stared nonplussed at his companion. ‘But Cap’n, I thought you said you was the cook in charge?’

  Tarquin chuckled at the thought of Slipp ruling the kitchens. ‘Oh he’s in charge all right, Lord of all the greasy dishwater, King of the pots’n’pans. Well old thing, are you comin’?’

  Slipp gnawed a sticky claw, his bravado shattered by the thought of the Fearsome Mellus standing over him, inspecting each dish to see it was clean. He clung to Blaggut, whimpering, ‘Don’t let’im take me mate, you wouldn’t let them crooly use yer ole Cap’n as a galley slave, would yer?’

  ‘Leave the Cap’n ’ere sir,’ Blaggut appealed to Tarquin. ‘Those young uns need watchin’. I’ve gotta take the molemaid an’ the mousebabe fer their afternoon stroll. Ahoy there you two, come on now.’

  Tarquin winked at Slipp. ‘Righto, but don’t forget those pots and pans or Mellus will remind you with a ladle, wot?’

  The two Dibbuns held Blaggut’s paws as they guided him round the back of the main Abbey building. As they went he questioned them. ‘You shore that it’s the real secret ’idden treasure of Redwall’s h’Abbey?’

  The mousebabe gave an exasperated sigh at Blaggut’s ignorance. ‘Phwaw! Course we sure, it’s the mos’ secretest treasure in alla world, innit Furrtil?’

  The molemaid smiled and tapped her nose knowingly. ‘Yurr, that et be, an’ oanly us’n’s know whurr et be buried.’

  At the southeast gable of the Abbey the mousebabe planted his back firmly against the wall and began striding out in measured steps, counting. Blaggut and Furrtil followed.

  ‘One, two, three, five, seven, six, twennyfour, eleventeen . . .’

  The molemaid nodded her head in admiration. ‘Burr, oi wished oi knowed ’ow to count in numbers loik ee mousebaby do, ee’m turrible clever!’

  Blaggut watched the little figure striding boldly out.

  ‘Twennyfifty, sixfortyeight, two again, leventytwelve . . .’

  ‘Bless me, eddication’s a wunnerful thing, look at ’im go!’

  The mousebabe halted at the southeast corner of the outer wall and he pointed down.

  ‘There, you has to dig now!’

  Blaggut looked at the spot. ‘Who dug the ’ole in the first place?’

  Furrtil pointed a digging claw at herself. ‘Oi did zurr, ho t’wurr ’ard wurk, oi tell ee!’

  Blaggut leaned up against the wall. ‘Yore a mole, why can’t you dig the treasure up?’

  The mousebabe looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. ‘Cos she messed up ’er frock diggin’ it inna first place, d’you want to get ’er sended off t’bed again, silly!’

  With a look of long suffering Blaggut knelt down to dig.

  The black shadow fell over him.

  Startled, he looked up in time to see the hooded figure on the walltop draw back out of sight. Grabbing the Dibbuns’ paws the searat rushed them off across the Abbey grounds. Suddenly the quiet summer afternoon was laden with unspeakable dread for him.

  The molemaid held on to her mob cap as he whisked them along. ‘Whurr be ee rushen us’n’s off to, zurr?’

  ‘Save yer breath, little un – keep runnin’!’

  ‘But wot about ee gurt secret treasure?’

  ‘Ferget it, c’mon, back to the pond.’

  The mousebabe broke away and sped off yelling, ‘Ahoy ahoy, back to our boats!’

  They made it back to the pond when the Joseph bell tolled out a single boom. Teatime. Trestles had been set up for a summer orchard tea. Strawberries and cream, toffee apples, yellow dandelion bread and dark, fizzy elderberry cordial.

  Tarquin placed a slab of white celery cheese on some dandelion bread, took a bite, chewed critically, ears flapping slowly, then washed it down with a beaker of the cordial. ‘First rate, top hole! All in order, compliments to the cook, couldn’t ask for nicer, grade one tuck!’

  ‘Keep talking, while you’re spouting you aren’t scoffing!’

  Tarquin wrinkled his nose at Sister Rose’s remark. ‘So beautiful, yet so cruel, marm. Pray be seated, I’ll join you presently if I may.’

  He turned and stalked to where Blaggut and Slipp were seated side by side, both scrubbed and wearing clean tunics. The hare wagged a warning paw at them. ‘Best behaviour now, you chaps, mind y’manners an’ don’t go piggin’ everything in sight.’

  Mellus murmured quietly to Simeon, ‘That’s rich coming from Woodsorrel the walloper; don’t go pigging everything in sight, did you hear him?’

  ‘A case of glutton shall speak unto glutton I’d say!’ smiled Simeon as he nodded.

  Saxtus rang his table bell and everybeast folded paws and lowered their eyes. Brother Mallen nudged the two searats to do likewise. Then Father Abbot of Redwall said grace.

  ‘Thanks to seasons, praise the fates,

  For this peace within our gates.

  Welcome, friends, who gladly toil,

  In our fertile Redwall soil.

  May we never famine fear,

  Mid the summer’s goodness here.’

  Mother Mellus inspected the mousebabe’s paws approvingly. ‘My, my, these are very clean indeed!’

  Mousebabe rolled his eyes skyward, impatient to be eating. ‘Hmm, should be clean paws, losed me pad
dle an’ I been rowin’ my ship rounda pond wiv them.’

  Slipp kicked Blaggut under the table. ‘Well, where’s the treasure, did yer get it?’ he whispered.

  Keeping his eyes straight ahead, Blaggut applied himself to the business of strawberries and cream. ‘Uh uh, Cap’n, sorry. You told me never t’mention it as long as I lives.’

  ‘Never t’mention wot? Tell me!’ said Slipp, and he bit a slice of cheese savagely.

  Blaggut chose a strawberry, dipping it in the rich golden tinged cream. It vanished into his mouth. ‘Mmmm, wunnerful! No Cap’n, I’m only obeyin’ orders, you told me never to mention that black shadder as long as I lives, so I can’t tell yer.’

  Slipp felt the hair rise at the nape of his neck again. ‘Black shadow, was the black shadow there?’ he croaked.

  Blaggut sorted through his bowl of strawberries until he found the biggest of all. ‘Can’t tell yer Cap’n, you said black shadders don’t ’appen an’ I was to ferget it all, so I’m fergettin’ it, Cap’n!’

  Slipp was trying hard to keep his claws away from Blaggut’s obstinate neck. He tried another ploy. ‘Yore right mate, don’t mention that other shadow thing, just tell me about the treasure, or the place it’s buried in.’

  Blaggut piled cream on to his big strawberry until it was completely covered and held it near his mouth. ‘’Ang on a tick, Cap’n. Glopp! Mmmff, mmmff!’

  The infuriated Slipp had to sit waiting whilst his former bosun munched away with a look of delight pasted on his oafish face. Blaggut finished and licked the cream from his lips. ‘Aaahhh, never ’ad more prime vittles in me life! Oh, now, where was I? The secret treasure of Redwall h’Abbey, aye, that’s where I was. It’s buried at the corner of the southeast wall, eleventynine steps from the buildin’ itself . . .’

  ‘Eleventynine steps y’say?’ The Captain managed to keep a straight face.

  ‘Aye, that’s ’ow the mouseybabe measured it out, an’ that liddle cove knows ’ow to count, take my affydavit on it. I knows the h’exact spot where it lies, truth to tell, I was startin’ to dig it up when . . . Oho, but I promised I wouldn’t mention that, beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n.’

  Slipp relaxed and began searching his own bowl for big strawberries to dip in the cream. ‘I’ve got it now,’ he said, ‘yore tellin’ me that you knows where the treasure is buried, the very spot. Now, you was just goin’ t’dig it up when wot we vowed never to mention again came an’ scared you off, is that right?’

  Blaggut poured himself cordial, watching it fizz.

  ‘Eddication’s a great thing, Cap’n, ’ow do they put the liddle bubbles in this grog. Yowch! I told you I knows where the treasure lies, Cap’n, no need ter keep kickin’ me!’

  Further conversation was halted by the tinkle of the Abbot’s bell. A smile hovered about the face of Saxtus as he made his announcement.

  ‘Attention friends, tonight at dusk we will gather by the pond for a concert. Everybeast is allowed to take part, but I beg you to keep any songs and dances brief, so that all may have a chance to perform. There will be a number of prizes, the main one being a silver cup donated by Mellus. Dibbuns can stay up late to take part. Thank you!’

  There was a rousing cheer from the Redwallers, then they left the tables to go about any remaining chores, discussing with each other what they would do at the concert.

  Slipp murmured out of the corner of his mouth to Blaggut, ‘Perfect! While they’re singin’ an’ jiggin’ we’ll be diggin’ the treasure up.’

  Blaggut was about to raise an objection when a large black shadow fell over them both. He covered his face with both paws and tried to hide beneath the table, but it was only Mellus.

  ‘Slipp, haven’t you got work to finish in the kitchens?’ she asked. ‘Blaggut, come from under that table, you’ll be needed to gather wood for the fire by the pond. Come on you two, look lively or you won’t get a chance to do your bit at the concert this evening.’

  Blaggut and Slipp looked at each other nonplussed. ‘Do our bit?’ groaned Slipp.

  The searat Captain snorted as he gathered up dishes. ‘Huh, the only bit we’ll be doin’ is robbin’ the treasure from this place an’ makin’ a run fer it, an’ ’tis woe betide anybeast who gets in the way!’

  27

  IN THE CAVERN under Castle Floret, Egbert the Scholar caught hold of the huge badger’s paws and tried to break its hold on Mariel. The mousemaid was totally helpless in the grip of the great beast. Starbursts and coloured lights danced in front of her vision and the breath was forced from her body as the maddened creature tightened its grip. Egbert’s voice sounded thin and hollow in the cavern as he called out, ‘Help me Rudd, help me! She’s a friend!’

  An otter bounded out of the mist. He stood before the badger and made a swift motion with a javelin he was carrying. Instantly the badger dropped Mariel, who fell to the rocky floor gasping for breath. Egbert ministered to Mariel as he spoke soothingly to the badger.

  ‘This is our friend Mariel – she will not harm us, Muta. She is an enemy of Foxwolf, you and Rudd can help her.’

  The otter dipped a beaker into a pool among the rocks and, holding it to the mousemaid’s lips, he allowed her to drink.

  Aside from a few aching ribs, Mariel was not badly injured. She regained her breath and sat among the rocks with Egbert. The badger and the otter sat a short distance away. She watched them. Both were completely still as if awaiting an order from Egbert. The mousemaid could not help but notice the dreadful scars tracing the fur of both creatures. Egbert explained their story.

  ‘They staggered in here one night, virtually ripped to pieces and nearly dead. I took care of them both. It was no easy task. I learned most of my healing skills from books and scrolls, and luckily they worked, though not completely – I cannot heal minds. It was Nagru and his horde who tried to kill them – see the way they bare their teeth at the mention of his name. The badger I know is called Muta, she used to be nursemaid to the son of Gael, here at Floret. I do not know the otter so I call him Rudd. Strange, but neither beast talks, nor do they appear to have any memory of things that went on before I found them here that night. They are both mighty warriors. I think Muta has taken the way of the Berserk – I have read of badgers being like this, nobeast can stop them when a bloodlust is upon them. Rudd has become like her.’

  Mariel interrupted Egbert. ‘I think I know more about these two than you do, friend. The otter is called Rab Streambattle. I was told about them at the dwelling of Furpp the mole; they were believed to be dead, both killed when Serena and Truffen made their escape. I will tell you the full story when we get time. Meanwhile let me try something.’

  Mariel approached the two silent beasts, as they sat motionless. The mousemaid spoke first to Muta and then to Rab, repeating the names of their loved ones.

  ‘Muta, I come from Gael, I have news of Serena and little Truffen. They are safe. Rab, you are alive, yet Iris thinks you are dead. Your mate, Iris!’

  There was no response. The two battle-scarred warriors stared blankly at Mariel as if she were talking in a strange language. Egbert drew her aside.

  ‘It is no use,’ he said, ‘I have tried similar things with them. Whatever was done to those two has changed them, they are inseparable and live only to kill their enemies.’

  Mariel felt a great wave of pity for the two dumb beasts. She too had known what it was to be like them; seasons before she came to Redwall a similar thing had happened to her. She clasped their paws in hers – Muta’s, huge and forbidding, Rab’s, sinewy and dangerous.

  ‘Listen friends,’ she said, earnestly. ‘I am Mariel of Redwall. Together we will rid Southsward of Urgan Nagru and his scum, this I promise you! Egbert, where is the gatehouse that works the drawbridge?’

  The scholarly mole squinted over his glasses. ‘Follow me, but be careful!’

  Greenbeck bowed low as Gael Squirrelking materialized out of the mist to meet the rescuers on the plateau.

  ‘Your Majesty, fa
tes be thanked!’

  Gael clasped Greenbeck’s paw, saying, ‘Do not bow to a fool like me. There are others following – send your scouts to guide them here.’

  On Greenbeck’s order, two otters, Ruckal and Cress-eye, trotted off into the rainspattering mists and returned leading Meldrum and Dandin.

  Silvamord had given up searching for Mariel. She sat kicking her paws on a windowledge, shaking her head in mock pity at Nagru.

  ‘What are you going to do, mighty conqueror – tear the castle apart to find one mousemaid? She’s long gone!’

  The Foxwolf had been roaring orders, tearing down wall hangings, smashing doors and generally abusing his searchers. With his chest heaving from exertion, he slumped down and sat on the cold stone floor.

  ‘Catch them as they swing into the battlements,’ he sneered. ‘That wasn’t my idea, that was your bright scheme, vixen!’

  Wetchops and Mingol came scurrying up from opposite ends of the corridor. Before they could speak, Silvamord pointed at Mingol. ‘You first, what’s your good news?’

  The rat shuffled nervously, keeping out of range of Nagru. ‘The prisoners have all escaped, Sire. We finally broke into the attic of the tower, but there was nobeast there!’

  ‘Leave them up there in the rain, I’ll deal with them tomorrow after a good sleep,’ said Silvamord, mimicking Nagru’s voice. ‘That’s what you said – Sire!’

  Nagru shot her a swift, murderous glare before turning his attention to Wetchops. ‘Well, what have you got to say for yourself? Speak!’

  ‘Sire, the drawbridge is being attacked!’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘Dunno, Sire, too much rain an’ mist outside, but they’re firin’ arrows, throwin’ lances an’ slingstones.’