Fixing his monocle rigidly upon the pair, the brigadier fumed. “Confounded, perilous young buffoons! My orders were that ye kept a safe distance from those murderin’ cannibals. They ain’t green behind the ears, y’know. You could’ve both been captured an’ eaten alive!”
Kersey pouted airily. “Catch two gallopers like us, sah? Fat flippin’ chance. All those clods would catch’d be mouthfuls of our dust!”
Brigadier Crumshaw looked as if he were about to explode. His moustache bristled as he thundered at the gallopers, “Silence! Insubordination in the bally ranks, wot! Sergeant, place these insolent young blighters on firewood gatherin’ an’ potwashin’ duties as of now!”
Dauncey gave a snort of disbelief. “But, sah, that’s not fair!”
Crumshaw bellowed at the unfortunate pair, “Enough, I say! One more word from either of you malcontents an’ I’ll have ye clapped under close arrest an’ marched back to Salamandastron to cool your paws in the guardhouse! I’m relievin’ you of scoutin’ an’ gallopin’ duties until ye learn to follow orders correctly. Wot!”
Sergeant Wonwill kept his eyes front as he spoke to the downcast twins. “No arguments. You ’eard the h’officer, young ’uns, off y’go now. Report to Corporal Wopscutt. ’E’ll show you yore chores.”
Kersey and Dauncey saluted before marching off stiffly, tears of hot indignation burning bright in their eyes. The brigadier watched their retreating figures with a fatherly eye.
“Hah, young pair o’ buckoes, wot! One day they’ll make splendid officers an’ perilous warriors, mark m’words. But they’ve got to learn some jolly hard lessons first if we’re to keep ’em from bein’ slain. Right, Sergeant?”
Wonwill’s tough face mellowed. “Right y’are, sah, though ye can’t ’elp feelin’ sorry for the young rips. But who’s goin’ t’take their place as gallopers, sah?”
With a sweep of his swagger stick, Crumshaw indicated Tam, Doogy and Ferdimond. “These three ruffians I fancy, wot!”
Wonwill could not help a passing glance at Doogy’s solid little figure. “Hmm, ’ardly cut out for gallopin’, sah.”
Tam interjected. “Maybe not, Sarge, but I don’t think the Brigadier’s lookin’ for gallopers. Things could get a bit sticky keepin’ tabs on a hundred vermin. We’ll need beasts who’ve seen a bit of action, good stalkers who can use their judgement. Eh, sah?”
The brigadier’s swagger stick tapped Tam’s chest. “Took the words out o’me mouth, MacBurl. You an’ Plumm here have been around the trees a few times, I can tell. As for young De Mayne, he could jolly well benefit from the experience. He’ll do all the gallopin’ needed at a pinch.”
Doogy saluted the brigadier with his claymore. “Ah take it we’re tae be the braw new scouts for a wee while. Ah’m wonderin’ whether tae be flattered or battered, sah.”
Crumshaw smiled briefly. “Draw ration packs from Corporal Wopscutt an’ go to it, you chaps. Report back this evenin’. We’ll meet up by those alders’n’buckthorns young Kersey mentioned. That’ll be all for now. Dismissed!”
Three sets of footpaws pounded the mist-shrouded flatlands, headed northeast for the woodlands. Ferdimond was way out in front, with Tam a close second and Doogy trying gallantly but struggling at the rear.
After a while, the little Highlander slowed to a jog. Clutching a paw to his side, he called out to the hare, “Will ye no’ slack off a wee bit, ye lang-legged hairpin? Ah wasnae built for dashin’ aboot like a scalded frog!”
Ferdimond decreased his pace, grinning at Tam. “I say, I can’t see little barrel bottom in this blinkin’ mist. Where d’you supposed he’s got to, wot?”
Tam caught up with Ferdimond and took hold of his paw. “Not so fast, mate, the woods won’t run away. They’ll still be there when we arrive.”
Doogy came out of the mist, panting like a bellows. “Och, there ye are, ah thought ye’d got lost. Ah’ll walk in front an’ ye can follow me at a respectable pace.”
Ferdimond chuckled good-naturedly. “Oh, how can I soar like an eagle when I’m surrounded by waddlin’ ducks, eh?”
Winking slyly at Tam, Doogy stuck out his footpaw and tripped the young hare. Obligingly, he helped Ferdimond up. “Ah’d go easy if’n I were ye. More haste less speed, mah auld grannie used tae say.”
The hare brushed dew from his tunic. “Wise creature, your old grannie. Point taken, old lad.”
Doogy did an elaborate bow. “Thank ye, old boy, old lad, old chap, wot wot, an’ toodly blinkin’ pip, eh!”
Tam walked alongside them, laughing. “You sounded just like Ferdimond then, mate.”
Doogy straightened his cap, tugging at his eartips. “Aye, well ah’ve decided tae become a hare, ye know.”
Ferdimond scoffed. “You, a bally hare? Right, then I’ll be a Highland squirrel. How’d that suit ye?”
Tam shook his head. “Go on, let’s hear ye then.”
Ferdimond adopted Doogy’s truculent swagger comically. “Och the noo, ah like a wee stroll tae the woods on a misty day, ’cos ah cannae dash aboot like yon wee hare.”
He looked at them trying to keep their faces straight. “Come on, you chaps, how did I do? The truth now!”
Tam burst into gales of laughter as Doogy complained indignantly, “Ach, if ah sounded like that ah would’ve swam oot intae the sea an’ drownded mahself long since!”
Ferdimond replied huffily, “Really, is that a fact? Well, if I sounded like you did tryin’ to imitate me, I’d have begged that Gulo chap to scoff me pretty sharpish!”
They continued ragging and making good-humoured fun of one another as they marched. The mist began lifting in the early noon, and Tam spotted the treeline ahead. “Keep it down now, mates. We don’t need to advertise our presence to any foebeasts who might be around. We’ll split up now and circle in from three ways. Doogy, take the left, I’ll take the right. Ferdy, you go straight in but keep yore eyes peeled, mate. See you both by that big old alder tree yonder. Good luck.”
They reached the alder with no untoward happenings. Tam picked up the vermin trail. “They went this way. Can you track these marks, Ferdy?”
The hare unsheathed his long rapier. “ ’Course I can. They look pretty plain t’me, Tam. But why d’you want me to track, wot?”
Doogy could not help sounding slightly self-satisfied. “Because, mah lanky friend, we’ll be takin’ tae the trees. Us squirrels are fair speedy beasts up in yon foliage. Bein’ a groundcrawler, you’ll have tae stay down here, auld boy!”
Tam sprang up into the buckthorns. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep in touch with you. The mist is gone now. We can see more from up here. Take care, Ferdy.”
Doogy chuckled maliciously. “Aye, an’ don’t ye go trippin’ up an’ fallin’ over now.”
The woodlands were still and eerily silent as Ferdimond made his way forward. There was neither wind nor breeze, but the drizzle had collected on branch and leaf. It plopped and dropped in the stillness, until Ferdimond was wet through. But he followed the trail dutifully until he came into a glade, where Tam and Doogy were waiting for him.
The young hare looked around. “Feathers everywhere! They must’ve slaughtered quite a few birds, confounded savages!”
Tam ran his dirkpoint through the ashes of a fire. “This ain’t properly out, see? Look at the half-finished bird there, and the broken eggs, too. It looks to me like these vermin left here in a big hurry, eh Doogy?”
His companion picked up a broken shell necklace and a pouch of slingstones. “Aye, ah wonder why they went in such a haste, Tam.”
The warrior squirrel began climbing into a nearby oak. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Doogy, you stay here and keep yore eyes open. Ferdy, time for ye t’do a spot of gallopin’. Make it back t’the patrol an’ tell the Brigadier what’s happenin’. It may be important.”
Tam dropped his shield to the ground so he would not be impeded. A moment later he was whipping through the middle terraces to the north. As he travelled, i
t was quite easy to track the vermin trail below. Gulo and his band had pushed forward heedlessly, breaking twigs, flattening shrubbery and generally leaving a broad path. It was well into noontide when Tam heard the vermin up ahead. A little further and he would have them in sight. He halted in the broad limbs of a chestnut tree to catch his breath and check his blades. Tam knew that when he reached the vermin, silence would be essential. Wrapping his plaid cloak into a tight bundle about his shoulder, he adjusted the claymore in his belt so that it could be quickly drawn.
There was a faint rustle of leaves from above, in the top branches of the chestnut. Before Tam could raise his eyes to look up, he was hit forcibly by a descending object and knocked out of the tree.
15
Abbot Humble was playing make-believe tea with the Dibbuns. He enjoyed being with the little ones, joining in their games and listening to their baby talk. Mimsie the mousebabe served him with an invisible platter, supposedly full of goodies.
Humble beamed delightedly. “Oh my, these look nice, I like fresh scones!”
Mimsie scowled. “They not sconeses, them’s cream an’ stawb’y cake wot I jus’ maked!”
The Abbot apologised. “Oh, I’m sorry. My old eyes aren’t so good anymore, you know. Cream and strawberry cake, my favourite! Have we got some sweet cordial to drink with it?”
Perkle the hogbabe passed him an imaginary beaker. “No, farver, this bee’s boiled nekkle h’ale!”
Mudge the molebabe winked broadly at Humble. “Yurr, zurr, but doan’t ee tell Sis h’Armel. She’m say Dibbuns shuddent drink boiled nekkle h’ale.”
Humble nodded seriously. “I won’t breathe a word, promise. Boiled nettle ale, eh? Mmmm, tastes good, I like it!”
Perkle squeaked out a warning. “Farver, ’ide it quick. Sis Armel bee’s comin’!”
Sister Armel and Brooky came hurriedly into the dormitory, where the Abbot was playing with the Dibbuns. The pretty Infirmary Keeper could not keep the urgency out of her voice. “Father Abbot, I must speak to you immediately in private. It’s very important!”
Humble carried on pretending, putting both paws behind his back as if hiding the boiled nettle ale. “Right, Sister, just give me a moment, please.”
He whispered to the Dibbuns, “You’d better go and have tea down on the lawn so that Sister Armel doesn’t see the ale.”
Touching paws to snouts secretly, the Dibbuns nodded. They loaded the make-believe meal onto a make-believe trolley and began solemnly trundling it away.
Brooky called after them, “Save some o’ that boiled nettle ale for us, you greedy villains!”
As the Dibbuns clattered out of the dormitory, giggling mischievously, Humble turned to the squirrel and ottermaid, shaking his head. “Cream and strawberry cake with boiled nettle ale? Whatever next! What can I do for you, young Armel?”
The pretty squirrel explained her sudden visit. “When we were in the orchard, solving the puzzle, I suddenly felt drowsy. It must have been only for a moment. Father, I don’t know whether you’ll believe this, but Martin the Warrior appeared to me.”
Humble looked into Armel’s innocent brown eyes. “Why should I doubt you, my child? Did our Warrior speak?”
She nodded emphatically. “He did, though I completely forgot I’d even seen him until a short while ago. Brooky and I were passing through Great Hall when I saw Martin’s picture on the tapestry. Then it all came back to me like a flash!”
The ottermaid laughed. “Oohahaha! Very exciting, isn’t it?”
Humble silenced her with a mild glance. “Tell me, Armel, what did Martin the Warrior say to you?”
Armel remembered everything clearly. “He said he knew me, and that was why he chose me. Then he spoke these lines.
My sword must be carried by maidens two:
one who sees laughter in all, and you.
Bear it southwest through Mossflower Wood,
to he who pursues the vermin Lord.
The Borderer who is a force for good,
that warrior who sold and lost his sword.”
Humble folded both paws into his wide habit sleeves. “Did he say any more?”
Armel sighed. “No, Father, that was all. What should I do?”
The Abbot pondered for a while, then made his decision. “Go and find my cousin, Hitheryon Jem. Brooky, you will seek out your uncle Skipper. Bring them both to the gatehouse. We need to discuss this matter urgently.”
Jem was rather grumbly as he followed Armel across the sunlit lawns to the gatehouse. “Great seasons, ain’t there no rest for a poor ole body? I’m scarce out of a good warm tub an’ into a clean robe when I’m bein’ marched outdoors through the grounds. A beast of my seasons could catch cold, y’know!”
Armel patted his paw as they came to the gatehouse door. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll take no harm, sir. It’s not me who wants you here, it’s your cousin, the Abbot.”
Jem opened the door. “Humble? Oh, that’s different, missy. Why didn’t ye say?”
The young Sister smiled. “I did, but you probably forgot.”
Skipper and Brooky were already there, as was Humble and Gordale the Gatekeeper. Friar Glisum arrived unexpectedly, bearing with him a sliced pie of damsons and honey with a container of his own special pear and redcurrant wine.
He popped his head around the door with the air of a conspirator, commenting, “Hope you don’t mind me joining you. I saw you all hurrying here, and it made me rather curious.”
Humble beckoned him inside. “Come in, Friar. Sit down there and listen carefully, all of you. Sister Armel has something to say. Sister?”
Armel took a deep breath and recounted her experience. When she had finished, the Abbot looked from one to the other. “Well, what do you think, friends?”
Skipper of Otters was first to venture an opinion. “I was ’oping that all last winter an’ right through the spring, ’til now, that this wouldn’t ’appen, Father, but it looks like it must be, eh Jem?”
The old hedgehog answered sadly, “Aye, Skip. This Abbey’s a sizeable buildin’, stickin’ out like a bandaged paw twixt the woodlands an’ flatlands. Stands t’reason that any vermin gang in this part o’ the country is bound to sight it.”
Brother Gordale caught the hedgehog’s drift. “You mean that creature Gulo the Savage and his followers?”
Humble went to the little gatehouse window. There he stood, gazing out at the sunlit lawns and the Abbey building. “We were hoping, Skipper and I, that maybe they’d miss us somehow and go off on a different course. But if I read Martin the Warrior’s message correctly, it seems that Redwall is in danger. Why else would he send us this warning through Sister Armel? One thing, though. Before we go any further, I must ask. Are we all agreed to act upon this?”
Brooky’s sudden laughter made Gordale jump. “Whooohahahoo! We’d be real puddenheads if we didn’t.”
Skipper silenced his niece by treading on her rudder. “Young Brookflow’s right. She’s noisy, but right. So then, Father, what d’ye suggest?”
Humble placed a paw on the otter chieftain’s shoulder. “I say we should carry out Martin’s words to the letter. That is, if Armel and Brooky are willing to undertake the task. As to anything else, I tell you truly. I am only a Cellarhog who was fortunate enough to become Father Abbot of Redwall. As such, I am concerned with its safety, and all the creatures within who are under my care. I know nothing of the ways of war or defence. I have always entrusted those matters to you, Skipper.”
The burly otter bowed slightly. “Thankee, friend, I wouldn’t ’ave it any other way. Now then, Sister Armel, will you carry out the task Martin has sent ye? An’ you, too, Brookflow, ’cos yore the one who sees laughter in all, an’ yore a maid, too. So?”
The Infirmary Sister took Brooky’s paw. “I’ll go if you come with me.”
The sturdy ottermaid giggled with embarrassment. “Heeheeheehee, just you try and stop me!”
Skipper ruffled his niece’s head fondly. Unwinding a sl
ing from his waist, he gave it to her with a full pebble bag. “Take good care o’ this, ye scallywag. ’Tis me best sling. I want ye to take good care o’ Sister Armel, too!”
Brooky helped herself to a slice of the friar’s pie. “Nice sling, nunky Skip. Of course I’ll take care of Armel. If I don’t, you can load me into this sling an’ chuck me out the attic window. Hahahahaha!”
Armel gave her a playful shove. “Don’t worry, Skip, we’ll look out for each other. When do we go?”
Jem looked up from the deep armchair he was occupying. “Travel by night is best. Stick to the shadows on the pathside an’ don’t make any noise. Me’n ole Walt should be goin’ along with ye by rights, but the seasons are weighin’ too ’eavy on us now, an’ we’d be slowin’ ye down, missy.”
Skipper bit his lip, looking a bit worried. “I could hunt out a few o’ my otter mateys. Them stayin’ close by both of ye wouldn’t go amiss. Couple o’ big coves with javelins.”
However, Armel would not hear of this. “Definitely not, but thank you, Skip. Martin was quite clear who should go: ‘My sword must be carried by maidens two, one who sees laughter in all, and you.’ I would not risk disobeying the word of Martin the Warrior. We will leave tonight after supper. The directions are also quite clear—southwest through Mossflower Wood, until we find the Borderer who is a force for good. Right, Brooky?”
The ottermaid nodded cheerily. “Correct. We’re out to deliver Martin’s sword to this Borderer cove. ‘That warrior who sold and lost his sword.’ Bit careless of him, wasn’t it? Hope he doesn’t lose Martin’s sword. Hohohohoho!”
Skipper glared at Brooky so fiercely that she quailed. “Don’t even think of it, Brookflow!”
Supper that evening was served in Great Hall, the tables laid out beneath Martin’s tapestry. Both maids were the centre of attention. It seemed that every Redwaller wanted to give them gifts, either knowledgeable information or equipment for their journey.
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