Lord Asheye ignored the food, lowering his voice as he confided to the Major. “This is for your ears alone, Mull, not to go beyond this room. Understood?”
“Indeed, sah, mum’s the word, wot!”
Asheye nodded his great silver head. “Good beast, Mull, I know I can depend on you, so listen carefully. Since the turn of the last moon I’ve been having dreams….”
The Major interrupted with a chuckle. “Know what y’mean, sah, I get ’em m’self. Some pretty odd ones, when I’ve been scoffin’ cheese’n’pickles for supper in the mess.”
Asheye gave a deep snort of irritation. Mullein knew he had said the wrong thing and apologised.
“Ahem, most dreadfully sorry, m’lud, bloomin’ silly of me t’mention it. Pray continue, sah!”
The old Badger Lord carried on with what he was saying. “Being blind has sharpened my perception, made me face things more rationally. Though what rhyme or reason there is in the voices of long-gone Badger Lords I cannot say. But I trust in them, and I feel instinctively I must heed their words.
“They have told me of my fate, and mark this, the ones who speak to me in dreams cannot be ignored. This is what I have learned. It is decreed that once the autumn leaves start to fall, I will not be seen again at Salamandastron. So it must be.”
Mullein protested. “Not you, sah, why, you’ve got absolute scads o’ seasons to go yet!”
The ancient badger’s immense paw covered his gently. “Now, now, don’t go upsetting yourself, my friend. It comes to us all sooner or later. The thought of passing on does not worry me unduly. I’ve had a fine, long life, much longer than I deserve really, considering the wild path my Bloodwrath led me down. In my dreams I have spoken with the great heroes of Salamandastron, Lord Brocktree, Sunflash the Mace, Boar the Fighter, Urthclaw, and others too numerous to mention. They all tell me one thing: Redwall Abbey will soon be in grave danger!”
Major Mullein sprang from the windowsill, his paw clamped on the sabre hilt at his waist. “Then with your permission, m’lud, I’ll arm up the Long Patrol an’ get ’em marchin’ for the Abbey today!”
Lord Asheye beckoned Mullein to sit down. “If it were that simple, you’d have been on your way with the Patrol three days back.”
The Major’s long ears rose stiffly. “Then what the deuce is holdin’ the confounded job up?”
Asheye turned his sightless gaze toward his friend. “The new Badger Lord.”
Major Mullein was back up and pacing the chamber. “New Badger Lord, what new Badger Lord? Nobeast told me about any new Badger Lord!”
Asheye waited until the Major slowed his pace. “Listen, Mull, I told you I would not see another summer here, so who’ll rule Salamandastron when I’m gone?”
Mullein came to a halt, stamping his footpaw. “But what’s all that got to blinkin’ well do with Redwall bein’ in danger? Really, sah, I’m all at sixes an’ flippin’ sevens with your dreams’n’riddles!”
Asheye reached out and clasped his friend’s paw. “Then sit down and be patient. Here, pour me some tea and I’ll explain as best as I can.” The Badger Lord sipped his drink slowly, only continuing when he felt the hare had calmed down. “This Badger Lord who will succeed me, I have learned that he is still a youngbeast. However, he is possessed of an even more ferocious Bloodwrath than was ever inflicted upon me. Our Long Patrol will not be needed at Redwall Abbey because he is fated to be there when the danger arrives. But before he can ever rule this mountain, he must be tested in the fires of battle. Now do you see?”
Mullein stroked his bristling moustache. “Indeed I do, sah. The Lord of Salamandastron must be as wise as he’s strong an’ warlike. But how will we know this chap, what does he look like, sah?”
Lord Asheye turned his face to the sea. He sat silent, feeling the gentle wind upon his face. Major Mullein watched the old Badger Lord closely, waiting for a reply. There was a long pause, then Asheye suddenly began speaking as though he was in the grip of a trance.
“Who will defend Redwall Abbey,
in its days of peril and strife?
The beast who shuns both armour and sword,
torn from the simple life.
He with destiny marked on his brow,
who walks with the banished one.
Send forth a maid to seek out the Flame,
to rule when the old Lord is gone!”
Asheye rose, shaking himself like one waking from sleep. “Great seasons, where did that come from?”
Major Mullein tried not to sound surprised. “Must’ve been your dream chaps who put it into your head, m’lud. Beggin’ y’pardon, but you’ve never been one for the jolly old poetic verse an’ all that, wot! Well, stap me, sah, looks like Redwall’s in for a bit of a ding dong. Hmm, an’ there’s a Champion on the horizon, one who’ll flatten the flippin’ foebeast, if I’m not mistaken. Sounds like an odd chap from your description, wot? Never heard of a Badger Lord who shuns armour an’ bloomin’ swords. What I really don’t understand is the bit about destiny bein’ marked on his brow, an’ as for walkin’ with a banished one, an’ sendin’ out a maid to seek for a flame…if y’don’t mind me sayin’, sah, the whole thing’s got me flippin’ well flummoxed.”
Asheye took a sip of his tea, which had now grown cold. “Well, old friend, I had no idea that I was going to speak such a rhyme, so you’ll excuse me if I confess to being as baffled as you are. However, it does explain a few things from my dreams. The coming trouble at Redwall, and the arrival of a Warrior. Also, the fact that this other badger will rule here in my stead, always supposing that he lives long enough, or isn’t defeated in battle. As for the rest, I’m truly puzzled. Where’s the maid that we must send forth?”
Mullein twirled his moustache briskly, and stood both ears to attention, always an obvious sign of his displeasure. “Hmph! So that’s why I’m not allowed to sally forth with the Long Patrol, sah, a confounded maid is the one for the blinkin’ task, accordin’ to your sources. Hah, I question the wisdom of a load of long-gone badger spirits. I mean, what possible use would one maid be in the midst of an invasion upon Redwall, eh, wot?”
The ancient badger patted his friend’s paw. “Now, don’t get your whiskers in an uproar, Mull, I’m bound to obey the voices of past mountain Lords. So, how do we choose this maid whom we must send to solve our problems? Any suggestions, Major?”
The discussion was interrupted by a series of urgent knocks upon the door. Mullein rattled his sabre hilt. “Yes, stop knockin’ the bloomin’ door down. Come in!”
It was Corporal Thwurl, a tall, droopy hare, with a mournful countenance. His nose was swollen, one ear was askew, and his left eye was a puffy slit. He saluted Mullein. “Major, sah, wish to report, sah, ruckus in the mess, sah, Assistant Cook’s gone bonkers, sah!”
Lord Asheye rested his forehead against the windowsill, sighing wearily. “Not Mad Maudie again. Deal with it, would you, Major Mullein? No, wait, bring her up here. We’ll see what she has to say for herself this time!”
When Corporal Thwurl left, Asheye and Mullein waited in stony silence for several moments. Then sounds of a tussle echoed up the stairway outside. Apparently it was the offender being brought to the forge room by four guards. She was very vocal.
“Yah, gerroff, you swoggle-toothed bounders! If I could jolly well get free I’d biff your snouts off! Just you wait, I’ll poison your porridge, I’ll sabotage your salad, I’ll destroy your duff, I’ll…I’ll…wahoo!”
Stuffed into a floursack, which was fastened at her neck, the miscreant was hauled into the room and dumped upon the floor. There she struggled, coming out with more colourful oaths at all and sundry. Mullein drew his sabre, roaring.
“Silence, marm! Be still, ye fiend, cease that din!” He slashed downward, neatly severing the drawstring of the sack, and releasing the young haremaid. Lying flat on the floor, she wiggled her ears and threw the Major a salute. “Most kind, sah, thank ye!”
Mullein silenced her with a gl
are, turning to Thwurl. “What’re the facts, Corporal, make your report.”
The droopy-faced Thwurl pawed tenderly at his nose. “There was complaints h’in the mess, Major, h’about the soup. It was too ’ot, sah, this h’assistant cook ’ad loaded it with red pepper, wild ransom, an’ that ’otroot stuff, wot otters likes to h’eat.”
The assistant cook interrupted from her prone position. “Too hot, my auntie’s pinny! Barley soup’s as dull as blinkin’ dishwater, it needed livenin’ up!”
Lord Asheye growled out from his windowseat. “Silence, miss, stand up straight, to attention! Corporal Thwurl, carry on with your report, please!”
“Well, sah, h’I told ’er wot h’I thought of ’er soup, an’ she struck me on the nose with ’er ladle, sah, then she went h’on to further h’assault me, an’ several h’others, sah. We ’ad to subdue ’er by stuffin’ ’er h’in a sack, sah. Whereupon she continued to shout h’insults at h’us, an’…”
Major Mullein waved Thwurl to silence. “Yes, yes, I get the general drift, Corporal. Assistant Cook, what have you to say for yourself, do you wish to refute the charges, wot?”
Assistant Cook Mad Maudie (the Hon.) Mugsberry Thropple fluttered her eyelashes endearingly at him. “Only to say, Major, that I’d do it all again if that puddenheaded oaf said nasty things about my soup, only next time I‘d punch him in his other eye, too, so there!”
Lord Asheye shook his great head sternly. “That’s quite enough of that, miss. Corporal, you and the guard may leave now. Major Mullein and I will deal with this, thank you.”
When the escort had departed, the badger resumed his seat on the windowledge. He spread his big paws despairingly. “Maudie Thropple, what are we going to do with you, eh?”
Mad Maudie, as she was known to the mountain hares, shifted guiltily from one paw to the other, murmuring, “Really, I don’t know, m’lord, what’s anybeast goin’ t’do with me, that’s what my old pa used t’say.”
Major Mullein waggled his ears knowingly. “My old friend, rest his memory, Colonel Thropple. What a gallant and considerate creature he was. Don’t you remember any of the lessons he taught you, Maudie?”
The young hare smiled brightly. “Oh indeed I do, sah, Pa taught me to box, an’ I’ve been Regimental Champion of the Long Patrol for six seasons now!”
Mullein squinched his eye into a jaundiced stare at her. “We know that right enough, m’gel. You’ve also been on more charges than any other hare I can recall. You’ve served five terms in the guardhouse, and had three final warnings about your conduct, wot!”
Maudie stared at the floor. “Sorry, sah.”
The Major’s tone hardened. “Sorry, is it? Well, let me tell you, missy, sorry’s not good enough this time. You’ve tried the patience of everybeast on this mountain far too long, ain’t that right, Lord Asheye, sah?”
The badger nodded. “Yes, it is, Major. Maudie, you leave us no alternative. It gives me no pleasure to drum you out of the Long Patrol. At dawn tomorrow you will leave Salamandastron!”
In the stunned silence which followed, Lord Asheye listened to the haremaid’s tears splashing on the forge room floor. There was a loud sniff from Mullein, then he approached the Badger Lord and whispered in his ear.
“I say, sah, we’ve never drummed a hare from the jolly old regiment. Couldn’t ye find some alternative for young Maudie? I’ve known her since she was a mite, the daughter of my old comrade Colonel Thropple. I used to bounce her on my lap when she was nought but a babe.”
The Badger Lord could not explain his next statement. The words tumbled unbidden from him. “I think there’s a lot of good in you, Maudie Thropple, so in memory of your father’s fine name, I’m going to give you one last chance. The Major and I have decided that you shall go on a most important mission. It will be both dangerous and demanding. Are you willing to go?”
Mad Maudie scrubbed the tears from her eyes with a floury paw. “Oh, rather, sah, say the bally word an’ I’m off like a flippin’ lark after a ladybird!”
Major Mullein was still registering surprise at Asheye as he spoke to the haremaid. “Right, off y’go, pack a light kit an’ weapon, apologise to the Corporal and those others you biffed, then report back here for instructions.”
As the forge room door slammed shut, Mullein wheeled upon the Badger Lord. “What’n the name o’ blue blazes made y’say that, sah?”
Asheye shrugged. “I don’t know, Mull, but I think Mad Maudie’s the one who’ll get the job done. Don’t you see yet? She’s the maid who will fulfill my dream!”
4
Abbot Daucus was a brisk, energetic mouse in his mid-seasons. On this particular afternoon his energy was being sorely taxed, as he searched Redwall Abbey high and low, accompanied by Granspike Niblo, the plump, old hedgehog who was Abbey Beekeeper. Daucus paused at the foot of the attic stairs, waiting for Granspike to catch up with him. Both creatures, panting heavily, sat down together on the stairs. Daucus scratched at his scrubby, ginger-tinged beard.
“Well, marm, apart from these attics, that’s the whole of the Abbey building we’ve been through, from the wine cellars to the dormitories. I don’t think we’ve missed anything, have we?”
Granspike stared enquiringly at the Abbot. “The kitchen larders, he could’ve hid himself there?”
Daucus discounted the suggestion. “No, I searched them myself, whilst you were going through Cavern Hole. Confound that young Prink, where does he get to? More important, where do our goods and chattels go, where does he hide them?”
Granspike rose wearily, dusting her apron off. “Dearie me, Father Abbot, I was wrong an’ you were right. We should never have taken Orkwil Prink into Redwall. Both his parents were a bad lot, ramblin’ an’ thievin’ like wild-beasts. ’Tis true enough, what was said about ’em, a Prink’d steal the eyes out o’ yore head if’n you didn’t watch ’em. Four seasons of that rascal is more’n enough for any Abbey. Aye, an’ Master Prink has sorely tried everybeast within Redwall. I think he’s run out o’ sympathy from all, includin’ meself!”
Daucus patted the good hedgehog’s spines carefully. “It’s not our fault, Gran. We couldn’t refuse a young ’un a roof over his head and food. It’s his mother and father I blame, deserting him and running off like they did. Ah well, no use going over all that again, come on, let’s go and take a look through the attics.”
He picked up the lantern they had brought along and began climbing the spiral staircase. They had ascended only a few steps, when a deep, rumbling voice echoed up to them from the lower dormitory floor.
“Bee’s you’m up thurr, zurr h’Abbot, wull ee bestest cumm daown. Oi’ve founded ee likkle scallywagger!”
Daucus immediately recognised the caller, Foremole Burff, the leader of Redwall’s quaintly spoken moles.
Granspike Niblo’s voice went squeaky with relief. “Thankee, Mister Burff, we’ll be right down!”
Foremole Burff was waiting on the dormitory landing. He tugged his snout respectfully. “Zurr, marm, you’m axcuse oi furr not coomin’ up thurr, oi’m gurtly afeared o’ tall places!”
Knowing the moles were soildiggers, and afraid of heights, Daucus smiled understandingly. “I’m not too fussy on them myself, Burff. Did I hear you say that you’d caught Orkwil? Where is he now?”
Foremole Burff pointed a hefty digging claw in a downward motion. “H’in ee gate’ouse, zurr, an’ he’m gurtly well guarded, burr aye!”
As the trio trooped downstairs, Granspike shook her head. “In the gatehouse, I might’ve knowed it. Father Abbot, we should’ve searched from the outside and worked inward, ‘stead o’ doin’ it the other way about.”
Daucus heaved a long sigh. “Not to worry, the main thing is that young Prink has been caught.”
By the time they had reached ground level, and were crossing Great Hall, others were hastening to join them, everybeast speculating.
“Has he been apprehended, the villain?”
“Aye, Skipper’s h
olding Orkwil in the gatehouse!”
“So that’s where he was hiding?”
“No, they just took him there so he couldn’t escape.”
“Well, where was his secret hiding place, d’you know?”
“No, but we’ll soon find out, come on!”
Out the Abbey door they paraded, down the front steps onto the gravelled path between flower beds and lawns. A high sandstone outer wall ran foursquare around the Abbey grounds; it had a walkway on top, and battlements. Each section of the wall had a small wicker gate built into it, with the exception of the main threshold gate. This was the western ramparts, containing the big oaken main gate; it had a gatekeeper’s lodge built against the wall. Either side of the gate, two flights of stone steps ran up to the threshold walkway. More Redwallers had congregated around the gatehouse area.
Abbot Daucus paused at the gatehouse door, surveying the crowd who were gathered there. He frowned. “Have you nothing else to do but hang about here? Friar Chondrus, no meals to prepare, Sister Atrata, no patients to attend in sickbay? Please disperse and go about your chores. The Elders and I can deal with this matter. You will all get your goods back, I assure you.”
A group of Dibbuns, Redwall’s Abbeybabes, was seated on the bottom of the wallstairs. Daucus cautioned them, “I hope you little ones aren’t thinking of climbing those steps to the walkway?”
A tiny squirrel named Dimp shook his head severely at the Father Abbot, answering for his companions. “We all be h’Elders, us goin’ inna gate’ouse, an’ ’ave a word wiv naughty Orkwilt!”
Granspike shooed them off with her apron waving. “Ho no yore not, liddle sir, time for you lot t’get washed up for dinner. Folura, Glingal, tend to these Dibbuns will ye.”
The two identical otter sisters began herding the Dibbuns to the Abbey pond. The babes squealed and ran off, in an attempt to escape. They stood little chance against the swift ottermaids. The Redwallers around the gatehouse had duly dispersed.
Eulalia! Page 3
