They watched in silence as he loped off into the dense fastness of north Mossflower woodlands, hard on the trail of his new enemy. Grissoul sat on the ground and tossed her bones and pebbles. She stared at the way they fell, noting the position of each one. Wordlessly, the Seer shook her head and covered her eyes.
* * *
9
The rain stopped somewhere between late afternoon and early evening. Friar Bobb fought his way through a small pack of Dibbuns to open the main Abbey door and let them out to play. They tugged impatiently at his robes and apron.
‘Us wanna go out’n’play!’
‘Open a door. ’Urry up, Firebobb!’
He swung the doors wide and was almost knocked flat by Abbeybabes stampeding out on to the wet sunlit lawn. Shaking his ladle at them in mock anger, the fat old squirrelcook roared aloud, ‘Anybeast’s late back for dinner an’ I’ll make soup out o’ their tails!’
The fresh breeze from the open door, combined with a broad band of sunlight and the ensuing noise, roused Mhera and her friends from their slumbers. Cregga sat up straight, causing Gundil and Mhera to fall over. The ottermaid rubbed at her eyes as she struggled upright.
‘What . . . where . . . oh, dear, we must’ve slept for ages!’
Gundil shook his head ruefully. ‘Hurr, an’ uz never solved ee probberlem.’
Cregga scratched her stripes thoughtfully. ‘I think I did. L.H.C. could mean the Left High Corner of the Warrior’s tapestry. I think we’ll need a ladder to reach it.’
Suddenly the dream she had been having tumbled in on Mhera. ‘No, no, it’s the Lantern Holder Column. Martin told me!’
‘Martin told you?’ Cregga sounded incredulous.
Mhera fidgeted with her girdle, slightly embarrassed. ‘I’m not sure it was him and I don’t really know if I was properly asleep. I saw his picture, just like the one there on the tapestry, and a lovely gentle voice echoed in my mind. Lantern Holder Column, that was all it said.’
There were two fluted half columns, flat against the wall, one either side of the tapestry. Both had small iron lanterns hanging from them, to illuminate the image of the Warrior at night. It was still daylight, so they were unlit. Mhera looked from one lantern to the other. ‘Lantern Holder Columns, but which one?’
She took down the lanterns from their hooked iron holders and examined them with Gundil, whilst the blind badger went carefully up and down each column, sniffing and running her paws over the stonework. It was not a successful exercise.
Brother Hoben the Recorder came towards them, pulling a little cart containing oil, candles, wicks and cleaning equipment. He watched their activities curiously. ‘What are you doing there, may I ask?’
Cregga immediately recognised the mouse Recorder’s voice. ‘Ah, Brother Hoben. Come to refill the lanterns, I suppose.’
Hoben took a pitcher of lilac-scented vegetable oil from his cart and went about his task. ‘’Tis the Recorder’s job, always has been. To shed the light of knowledge and learning by keeping our Abbey’s records, and to shed illumination where it is needed. Every sixth day I come round, replacing candles, collecting old beeswax and trimming each lantern and lamp wick. As you can see, I make sure each one is topped up with fresh oil. Why do you ask? Is there something amiss?’
Taking him by the paw, the Badgermum led Hoben to the column on the left of the tapestry. She guided his paw to a gap between the carved stones, where the cement pointing had been hacked out, leaving a slot. ‘Did you ever remove anything from here, a piece of paper, a slat of wood, perhaps a flat piece of slate?’
‘Indeed I did, marm,’ Hoben answered immediately. ‘A flat piece of slate, just as you said. Though it was a while back now, let me see, eight, no nine seasons ago, or perhaps it was nearer ten, let me see . . .’
Mhera interrupted him. ‘Pardon me, Brother, but it’s not important how long ago you removed the slate. Have you still got it?’
The Recorder responded to her question in his most dignified manner. ‘Do I look like a mouse who throws things away willy nilly, miz? As Recorder to Redwall Abbey it is my solemn duty to preserve anything at all which has writing on it in any form!’
‘Hurr, then beggin’ ee pardon agin, zurr, wudd ee koindly take us’n’s to whurr et be?’
Hoben directed one of his rare dry smiles at the mole. ‘Why, certainly. Follow me, please.’
They followed him, Mhera wriggling and skipping, all agog. ‘It’s got writing on it, Brother Hoben said so!’
Gundil grabbed her paw and leaned heavily on it. ‘Stop thoi jumpen an’ frulliken abowt. ‘Member wot oi said abowt h’Abbesses fallin’ o’er on they’m ’eads!’
Old Hoarg stood at the gatehouse door, enjoying the sunny evening. He winked at Mhera and the mole. ‘Back agin, mates? Two visits in a single day; makes an old dormouse feel honoured. What is it now?’
Hoben nodded to him and entered the gatehouse. ‘Some old records I want to dig out from the archives.’
Hoarg held a paw to his lips. ‘Then dig ’em out quietly, Brother. Mhera’s mama is takin’ a nap in my big ole chair. Looks like she deserves it, too.’
A feather from one of the cushions had lodged itself close to Filorn’s mouth. It fluttered up and down as she breathed in and out. Gundil chuckled fondly. ‘Bless yore mum’s ’eart, miz, she’m ee ’ardest wurrken creetur in all ee h’Abbey. Better cooker’n Froyer Bobb, too, hurr aye, but doan’t ee tell ’im oi sedd so!’
Cregga stood with Gundil and Mhera in the doorway, watching Brother Hoben chunnering his way through dusty volumes.
‘Hmm, autumn of the weeping willow . . . no, ’tis further back than that. Summer of the singing skylark, spring of the swooping swallows . . . ah, here it is. Winter of the ceaseless snows.’ He brought the book out into the open and dusted it off.
They sat on the lower walltop steps as Hoben flicked through the pages. He produced a wafer-thin oblong-shaped slate of a bluey grey hue and passed it to Mhera. ‘Is that the thing you’re looking for?’
Mhera recognised Abbess Song’s precise and well-formed script. She read aloud what it said.
‘My first is third, like the sound of the sea,
My second’s the centre of you, not me,
My third is the end of him but not you,
My fourth starts a picture, not a view,
My fifth is in bean though not in been,
My sixth and seventh start seldom seen.
Sunrise and sunset, warmth and cold,
Put them together a sign will unfold.’
Gundil lay flat on his back, holding his head in both paws. ‘Whoo urr, whutt be a pore molechoild t’make uv thatt? Et be’s more’n moi likkle brain cudd stand!’
Mhera smiled at her molefriend. ‘Wait until you hear the rest. Listen to this.
‘The strangest thing you’ve ever heard,
A point that makes a noisy word,
The other three make quieter pleas,
Let me start you off with “teas”.’
Cregga lay alongside Gundil, she too holding her head. ‘Move over, friend. That’s more than my brain can stand too!’
Mhera tapped her tail on the step in frustration. ‘That’s the second time I’ve been interrupted. There’s another two separate lines to go yet. Will you two sit up and listen!’
Gundil sat up quickly, folding his paws and looking attentive. ‘Yurr, Creggum marm, us’n’s better pay ’tenshun, or ee gurt h’Abbess’ll make uz wash pots in ee kitchen.’
The badger sat up, folding her paws primly. ‘Oops, sorry, Mother Abbess. Carry on, we’re all ears!’
Mhera stifled a grin. ‘Stop calling me Abbess, you two, and listen. Here’s the last two lines.
‘’Twixt water and stone I stand alone,
Sounding burnt but alive I survive!’
Brother Hoben preened his straggly whiskers thoughtfully. ‘Well, what do you think of that?’
Filorn had wakened and emerged from the gatehouse. She stood on t
he path below them and called up, ‘I think it’s dinnertime, but you can sit on those damp steps all night if you like!’
Old Hoarg left the gatehouse and accompanied them across the lawn. ‘Minted potato’n’leek turnover, now there’s a dish to set the ole mouth waterin’. Mmmmm!’
Helping their elders, Mhera and Gundil wended their way slowly over the rainwashed grass in the warm evening sunlight.
‘What’s for afters, Mama?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised if Broggle and Friar Bobb have made a woodland trifle. They said they were going to.’
‘With flaked almonds and meadowcream, marm?’
‘Friar Bobb always says that’s the way a woodland trifle should be, Brother.’
‘Hurr, be thurr any zoop furr starters, mum? Oi loikes zoop!’
‘Well, you should know, Gundil. You and my Mhera chopped the celery and carrots this morning.’
‘So us’n’s did, mum. Oi’d furgotten to amember that, hurr hurr!’
‘Cregga, you ole stripedog, can’t you move any faster? By the sound of that dinner we’ll be lucky to get any if Boorab gets to the tables first!’
‘You’re right, Hoarg. Come on, let’s run!’
They entered Cavern Hole breathless and laughing. Boorab was already seated next to his friend Drogg Cellarhog. The hare raised an eyebrow as he saw them taking their places.
‘Late for dinner an’ laughin’ like frogs at a fry-up, wot? Not the sort o’ thing one does in the mess. Very serious business, eatin’. Only time I laughed at table was one suppertime long ago when my big fat auntie’s chair collapsed. She bumped her blinkin’ head on the table an’ passed out. Only laughed then because I got her bally share. Hawhawhaw, er, beg y’pardon!’
Redwallers were a bit surprised that Cregga had not taken the big chair at the main table, which was the customary place for anybeast acting as leader. Instead, she chose to sit among the younger element, creatures like Gundil, Egburt and Floburt, many seasons out of Dibbunhood but not yet considered adults. At the badger’s request, Brother Hoben and Mhera, who was actually regarded as a proper young adult, sat down with Cregga. The big chair remained empty. Gossip hummed about freely. Redwallers liked to discuss the day’s events over dinner. As the servers arrived with their trolleys, Cregga tapped the tabletop with a spoon. A respectful silence fell over all. Broggle, who was still called young Broggle for all his size, was selected by the Badgermum to say the grace. However, the squirrel had developed such a fine tenor voice that he always chose to sing it.
‘When the day’s work is done,
Then gather we all,
To dine in good company,
Here at Redwall,
On the fruits of our labours,
We harvest and tend,
Each helping the other,
As neighbour and friend.
May the seasons’ fine fortune,
Roll on without cease,
And grant us fair weather,
In plenty and peace.’
The blind badger shook her head in admiration. ‘Thank you, young Broggle. That was beautifully sung!’
Boorab dipped fresh crusty bread into a bowl of soft cheese and chives, commenting airily, ‘Indeed it jolly well was. Of course, he had an expert music tutor. Mustn’t forget that, wot wot?’ Then he abandoned further self-praise to concentrate on his life’s greatest interest. Food.
Cregga addressed Brother Hoben so that all at table could hear her. ‘Tell me, Brother, you taught most of these young ’uns at Abbey School. Would you say they’re a pretty bright lot?’
Hoben put aside his soup spoon and looked around. ‘Hmm. They may be bright now, but most of them were fat-headed dozy little Dibbuns when I taught them.’
Mhera silenced the young ones’ indignant squeaks and growls by throwing out a challenge. ‘Right then, let’s see, shall we? The creature who can solve most lines of a riddle we have here can sit in the big chair at dinner tonight. Also, with Cregga Badgermum’s permission, they can have the day off tomorrow, to do as they please.’
The announcement caused a sensation among the young creatures.
‘What’s the riddle? Bet I can solve it!’
‘Go on, go on, tell us what it is, Mhera!’
‘Burr, oi’m ee gurtest riggle solverer as ever lived!’
‘Oh no you’re not, I am!’
Brother Hoben raised his voice. ‘Then stop chattering and listen to Mhera. Carry on, miz!’
‘“My first is third, like the sound of the sea.” That’s the first line. Any ideas as to what it means?’
They stared blankly at Mhera until Floburt enquired, ‘Are there other lines? Perhaps you could read us one. They may connect up to give a meaning.’
Drogg Cellarhog called across from another table. ‘She’s right, miz. Read the lot out, ’tis only fair!’
Mhera had started her dinner. She slid the slate across to Hoben. ‘I’m famished. You carry on, Brother.’
Hoben read the first eight-line poem, slowly and clearly. Immediately they began raising their paws, as if they were still at Abbey School, jigging up and down and calling, ‘Brother! Brother!’
Hoben pointed at Egburt with a small baton loaf. ‘You first!’
The young hedgehog scratched his spikes. ‘I still don’t know what the first line means, but the answer to the second line is the letter O. “My second’s the centre of you, not me.” O is in the centre of the word you, Brother.’
As Recorder, Hoben always carried a scrap of parchment and a charcoal stick. He produced them and began writing. ‘Very good, Egburt. Any more answers, please?’
A mousemaid named Birrel spoke up. ‘Third line, Brother. “My third is the end of him but not you.” That’s the letter M. It comes at the end of the word him.’
Suddenly Mhera had solved the first line, but she was beaten to the answer by young Broggle.
‘I’ve got the first line! “My first is third, like the sound of the sea.” Third letter of the alphabet is C. That sounds like the word sea, doesn’t it?’
Mhera shook Broggle’s paw. ‘Very clever, mate. That first line had me really baffled. Well done!’
Brother Hoben looked up from his writing. ‘Floburt, have you got an answer for us?’
The hogmaid fiddled shyly with her apron strings. ‘Aye, Brother, that line which goes, “My sixth and seventh start seldom seen.” That’s two letters. S and S. Seldom seen starts with them. Er . . . is that right?’
Boorab’s earbells tinkled as he applauded. “Course it’s right, m’gel. I say, can I take a look at your funny old rhyme, wot?’
Hoben passed him the slate. The hare scanned it studiously.
‘Ahah! Here’s one you’d have to read to flippin’ well come up with a solution, this fifth line. “My fifth is in bean though not in been.” First bean’s the bally bean you eat, second one’s the been where you’ve jolly well been, wot. Anyhow, the answer’s the letter A. Bit of a swizz, that one, if y’have to listen to it.’
Boorab sat down and began tucking into his minted leek’n’potato turnover, nodding at Cregga. ‘You were right, marm, does taste better when the taters cook down into the leeks, all nice’n’mushy, eh wot!’
‘Yurr, this ’un be ee letter P. Moi fourth starts ee pitcher but not ee view. Hurr aye, ’tis ee P all roight.’
Brother Hoben chuckled at Gundil’s great grin of triumph. ‘There you are, it wasn’t more than your little brain could stand.’ He held up his paws to stop any further discussion. ‘Well done, class! I’ll let you see what I’ve written down so far.’
Hoben placed his notes in the centre of the table. Like everything he did, they were perfectly numbered and laid out. Thus.
1 My first is third, like the sound of the sea C
2 My second’s the centre of you, not me O
3 My third is the end of him but not you M
4 My fourth starts a picture, not a view P
5 My fifth is in bean though not in been A
6 My sixth and seventh start seldom seen SS
Floburt could hardly contain herself. ‘It’s a compass! The next two lines make it even clearer, listen.
‘Sunrise and sunset, warmth and cold,
Put them together a sign will unfold.
‘The sun sets in the west and rises in the east. South is the warm country, north is the cold lands. I’ve put it together. The compass points: north, south, east and west!’
The Redwallers cheered as Drogg Cellarhog bowed and shifted the big chair back from the head of the table for his granddaughter.
‘Sit ye down, my lovely. I’d say you was the winner, paws down!’
Foremole Brull confirmed Drogg’s proclamation. ‘She’m wurr allus gurtly clever, h’even when she’m wurr ee h’infant!’
Boorab dragged his haredee gurdee forward and announced, ‘In honour of our fair winner I will now render the Ballad of the Brainy Duck. Thank you!’
Sister Alkanet pushed her plate away. ‘That’s completely ruined my appetite!’
The hare shot her a haughty glance. ‘I heard that remark, marm!’ Notwithstanding, he tugged levers and wound wheels until the instrument groaned into action. Much to everybeast’s hilarity it kept making noises like a duck. Boorab launched into his song.
‘Some said his head was full of stones,
Some said ’twas full of muck,
But I tell you, that wasn’t true,
Oh Dingle was a brainy duck!
He knew history and geography,
Read books from front to back,
The Taggerung (Redwall) Page 10
