The Sable Quean

by Brian Jacques

  Ambrevina scowled at him, holding up a massive clenched paw. “Aye, though it’s been known to cause sudden unconsciousness if eaten within a certain distance of me!”

  Diggs blinked owlishly, clambering aboard the willow trunk. “Hmmph! No need t’get so bloomin’ cut up about it, miz. One’d think that what a chap scoffs, or chooses to scoff, is his own bally business, wot!”

  With a mighty heave, she lifted the log end clear of the water, causing Diggs to cling on for balance. “Now, are you going to wash out your mouth, or shall I shake this log about a bit and do it for you?”

  The going was easy, with a smooth, fast-flowing current. Ambrevina straddled the front of their makeshift craft, using a broken-off branch to paddle and steer. Diggs occupied the stern, giving her the benefit of his nautical experiences.

  “Spent quite a while on a raft, y’know. I’m no beginner at this sort o’ thing. Oh, yes, luff your tiller, sink your sail an’ swoggle your midriff. Whoops! Go easy there—you nearly tipped me off into the flippin’ drink!”

  Ambrevina kept her face forward, smiling. “Then you should have learned to swoggle your midriff a bit better. Hmm, there’s a sidestream coming up, I see.”

  The badgermaid steered their craft to the opening of the inlet. Diggs sniffed, unimpressed by his friend’s observation.

  “I’d stick t’the main current, if I were you, then we may get some flippin’ where, wot!”

  Ambrevina parted the reeds as she replied, “Well, I’m not you, and I want to look about here before we carry on. Hmm, look at this, my friend.”

  She pulled out a dripping reed net, squirming with stream life and tiny fishes. Diggs inspected it. “Very clever, I’m sure. Who d’you suppose it belongs to?”

  Ambrevina put the net back into the water. “I’ve no idea, but my feelings tell me we may find out more by following this sidestream.”

  The irrepressible Diggs winked at her. “Indeed we may, marm, an’ we might stumble over some vittles, too. D’you know, I’m blinkin’ famished!”

  The badgermaid blinked in mock astonishment. “You don’t say. I’d never have believed it if you hadn’t mentioned it. Now, get paddling and keep quiet!”

  Whilst Ambrevina poled their craft through the reedy vegetation, Diggs dabbed at the water with a twig, muttering darkly, “Never have believed it? Huh, shows how much you know. Of course you wouldn’t remember old Wuffy Cockleshaw, Sergeant in the Long Patrol, he was, an’ a jolly nice chap, too. He missed dinner three times on the run! Faded away to a mere shadow. Ended up no more’n a pair of ears with bony paws stickin’ out. Old Wuffy couldn’t abide rhubarb crumble, y’know. Used to give me his when they served it in the mess. A friend right t’the end was Wuffy. It’s prob’ly those extra bowls o’ rhubarb crumble that’ve kept me goin’, wot!”

  The badgermaid was about to give her talkative companion a sharp prod with the paddling pole when an odd sound reached her. She turned to Diggs.

  “Hush, did you hear that? There it goes again!”

  It was a mad, high-pitched cackle. Diggs made what he deemed to be a shrewd observation. “Comin’ from up ahead, wot. Well, at least somebeast sounds t’be jolly well enjoyin’ themselves. Just listen t’that. Bloomin’ chap must be sittin’ on a feather!”

  Ambrevina backed water, halting the willow trunk at the end of the channel. The island stood out plainly in the midst of the watermeadow. She and Diggs stayed hidden, peering from the shelter of a bulrush patch at the strange scene.

  Triggut Frap was holding Diggla the mousebabe by his tail, dangling him over the water. The young ones were pleading with him, with Tura calling out, “Alright, alright. Stop that an’ we’ll do as ye say!”

  The scabrous hedgehog began striking the pond surface with his staff, shouting insanely, “Hahaarrrharr, I’ll teach ye to obey me! Once a day, at eventide, that’s when yew eat, when I tell yews to stop work. Is that clear?”

  Jiddle replied anxiously, “We hear ye, sir. Please don’t do that to Diggla. He’s only a babe!”

  Diggs recognised the young hedgehog. “I say, that’s young wotsis spike. I know his family.”

  Ambrevina clapped a paw over Diggs’s mouth. “Sshh, not a sound!”

  Triggut watched as the pike began gathering. “Heeheehee! Maybe I’ll let my pets have a nibble at him, just t’make sure yew pays ’eed t’my orders!”

  The pike began leaping as he bobbed Diggla up and down above their predatory snouts.

  The mousebabe was yelling, “Lemme go, ya bad naughty stinkybeast. Put Diggla onna shore!”

  Ambrevina readied her sling, loading it with a sharp lump of shale. Diggs voiced his alarm.

  “What are you up to? Don’t sling that rock. If you hit that barmy-lookin’ hog, he might fall into the drink an’ take the little chap with him!”

  Rising slowly, Ambrevina began whirling the huge sling. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. It’s not the hog I’m after.”

  Placing one paw straight out, she squinted along it, whirling the sling until it thrummed. Then she threw.

  The largest of the pike was halfway out of the water in a leap at the mousebabe. With deadly accuracy, the shale chunk hit it like a thunderbolt, completely ripping off its lower jaw. The fish flopped back with a splash, thrashing and crimsoning the water. Tasting blood, the rest of the pike shoal hurled themselves upon the dying fish. The water boiled and bubbled red as the voracious pike can nibalised their leader, rending it to shreds.

  Reloading her sling, Ambrevina jumped into the water. She started wading toward the island, whirling the weapon and roaring thunderously, “Put that young un back on dry land or my next one will smash your skull. Put him back . . . now!”

  Midda raced forward, grabbing Diggla from Triggut’s grasp.

  Diggs seized the badgermaid’s paddle, poling the willow trunk energetically toward the island. “What ho, little chaps. Fear not no flippin’ more, we’re here to save you. Pretty nifty, wot wot!”

  The young creatures were laughing and crying at the same time, leaping about wildly and cheering. Triggut stood stock-still, shocked by the sudden turn of events.

  Ambrevina strode swiftly ashore, batting away at the pike with her loaded sling. She smiled at the captives, towering over them. “Don’t worry. You’re all safe now!”

  Triggut made an attempt to cut and run, but Tura tripped him. The freed captives threw themselves upon the mad hog, pounding at him with their paws. Diggs picked Diggla up, chucking him under the chin.

  “Good day to you, little sir. Any eats around here? You know, vittles, scoff, tummy treats, food!”

  The mousebabe spread his tiny paws wide. “Lotsa lotsa vikkles all over d’place onna trees!”

  The tubby hare sniffed. “Huh, I’m the last chap t’say he doesn’t mind livin’ off the blinkin’ land. The odd apple, ramsons, an’ a few berries are better’n nothin’, wot! But, dash it all, I’d give my left flippin’ ear for some properly cooked vittles again. Er, I wonder what that rascally old scruffbag fed himself on?”

  Midda, Tura and the rest were still dealing out rough justice to Triggut Frap when Diggs strolled across. He nodded to them. “I say, chaps, don’t knock the blighter’s block off just yet. I’ve a question or two for him, y’see, so pardon me, an’ leave off kickin’ the villain’s bottom for a while, if you’d be so kind. Thank ye!”

  No sooner had the young ones ceased beating Triggut than mousebabe Diggla hurled himself upon the miscreant, squeaking shrilly as he pummelled him. “Yarr, bad naughty villin, t’row Diggla to d’pikes would ya? Take dat’n’dat’n’dat’n’dat. . . .”

  With one paw, Ambrevina lifted the still-kicking mousebabe off his victim. She was shaking with mirth. “Oh, you great fierce warrior, spare him. Allow Diggs to talk to the rascal.”

  Distastefully, the young hare hauled Triggut up by one dirt-crusted ear and commenced his interrogation. “Now, then, y’foul smellin’ brute, where’s your cookin’ gear? Oven, cauldron an’ whatn
ot, eh?”

  The mad hog spat out a loose tooth, mumbling, “Don’t need that sorta thing. I eats everythin’ raw!”

  Diggs nodded understandingly. “Hmm, I can see ’tis doin’ you a power o’ good. What sort of things d’you eat raw, wot?”

  Spines fell from under Triggut’s shabby cloak as he shrugged. “Anythin’—fruits, roots, fishes, frogs, worms.”

  Diggs held up a paw. “Stop right there. I’ve heard enough, thank you! Huh, fat chance of a decent feed here, chaps. What d’you suggest we do with this cur mudgeon, wot?”

  Midda had taken the knife from Triggut’s belt. She brandished it. “Kill him—that’s what he deserves after the way he made us suffer. Kill the scum, I say!”

  Diggs wrested the knife from the shrewmaid. He smiled wanly at Ambrevina. “Typical Guosim, eh? Not very bloomin’ maidenlike. I know one just like her, name o’ Flib.”

  Midda grasped the hare’s paw. “She’s my sister. Is she still alive?”

  Diggs nodded. “Aye, missy, an’ just as jolly well feisty as you, if I ain’t much mistaken.” He pointed the knife at Triggut. “Well, then, me stinky old scout, looks like you ain’t too popular this season.”

  The crazy hog grovelled at Diggs’s footpaws, wiping at his leaky eye as he wailed, “Waaah haaah! Don’t kill me, kind sire. I never meant to ’urt ’em. ’Twas all a joke. Spare me, I beg yew!”

  Diggs, whose mind was still on food, posed a question. “Right, I’ll see what I can do if you can tell me this. The mainstream yonder—does it run twixt some high rocky banks where a good old water vole has her home, wot?”

  Triggut’s bare head bobbed up and down furiously. “Aye, sir, I’ve seen ’er, though we ain’t never talked together. Ole water vole, wears frilly aprons an’ bonnets. Just follow the stream down a ways. Yew’ll see ’er place. On the right bank it is, sir. Now, will yew spare me?”

  The chubby hare grinned cheerfully. “Why, of course, my dear chap! I say, young uns, wait’ll you taste old Mumzy’s vittles, real first-class scoff!”

  Tura gave Triggut a none-too-gentle shove. “An’ what do we do about this rotten thing?”

  Triggut began giggling insanely. “Heeheehee! Don’t yew fret, missy. Jus’ leave pore Triggut Frap ’ere. I won’t never ’arm another creature. Yew kin take me word on that! Heeheehee!”

  Ambrevina uncoiled the rope which the mad hog had used to restrain Diggla. She began binding Triggut until he could not move a paw. Tossing the rope over a branch growing midway up a nearby hornbeam, she hoisted him into the air. Securing the rope’s end around a lower limb, she left him dangling.

  Jiddle yanked on the rope, watching the unfortunate beast bounce up and down. The Witherspyk hog smirked. “There now, laugh that off!”

  Having reinforced Triggut’s old raft with the willow trunk, the entire party boarded it. They pushed off onto the watermeadow, in full view of their former tormentor, waving mocking farewells.

  “G’bye now, don’t forget an’ finish that nice big house off someday after you’re loose!”

  “Aye, an’ don’t go paddlin’. There’s still some pike left. They aren’t too fussy about what they eat!”

  “Haha, nothin’ worse than hangin’ about, is there?”

  Diggs was in such high spirits at the prospect of good food that he composed a shanty right there and then.“A-sailin’ off on the watermeadows

  fills us coves with glee,

  think of all those hot baked scones,

  an’ dainty things to scoff at tea!

  “Yo hoho let the wild winds blow,

  as we roar hungrily,

  Belay, cast off, set a course to scoff,

  for my little mates an’ me.

  “A pasty’ll do an’ a tart or two,

  served by a maiden fair,

  but long as the tuck keeps comin’ fast,

  by golly, we don’t care!

  “Yo hoho let the wild winds blow,

  an’ fish swim in our wake,

  Ahoy, set sail for nutbrown ale,

  an’ a chunk of ole fruitcake!”

  Jinty fluttered her eyelashes at the tubby hare. “Did anybeast teach you to sing, Mister Diggs?”

  Diggs puffed his chest out proudly. “No. Why d’you ask?”

  She smiled innocently. “Oh, nothing, really, but it might’ve been nice if they had.”

  Diggs thought about this for a moment, then gave the hogmaid an icy glare. “See here, marm, I’ve seen creatures thrown overboard for remarks like that. It’s bloomin’ mutiny, y’know!”

  Midda nodded as if in agreement. “I know what y’mean. My pa’s a Guosim Log a Log, an’ I’ve seen him do the same to awful singers.”

  Everybeast aboard laughed heartily. Life had suddenly become good for them after so long.

  Apart from keeping a weather eye out for high-sided banks, there was little to do. The fast downstream current meant they did not have to row or punt. Diggs, having promoted himself to captain, steered with a paddle from the stern. The rest took their ease, allowing the cold water to run through their paws, watching speckled trout through the clear stream.

  Ambrevina judged Midda to be the young ones’ leader. The badgermaid spoke to her. “I suppose it was a lot worse than that island, being held underground in those caves?”

  The Guosim maid turned her face to the sun, closing her eyes, enjoying its summer warmth. “It was all bad, being held prisoner—in the caves or on the island—until you and Diggs rescued us. I can’t thank you enough, Ambry.”

  After a brief silence, the badgermaid continued, “When you were taken prisoner, did you chance to come across a young otter? His name was Flandor.”

  Midda did not speak. She opened her eyes, letting the tears run down her face. She nodded.

  Ambrevina felt a sudden sadness, like a leaden weight pressing on her heart. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Midda wiped the back of a paw across her eyes. “Flandor was murdered by the Sable Quean. He was trying to defend us. I’ll never forget him. He was a very brave otter. Did you know him, Ambry?”

  Ambrevina stared at the passing fields and woodlands, radiant with bright summer. She sighed deeply. “I was searching for him. Flandor was my only friend.”

  Diggla, who had been using the huge badgermaid as a hill, clambered over her shoulders and stared into Ambrevina’s deep-brown eyes as they softened with unshed tears. The mousebabe placed a tiny paw on each side of the big striped muzzle.

  “Don’t you not cry, now. Us all yore mates.”

  Ambrevina was a very large creature, so she took special care as she hugged Diggla. “Thank you. I couldn’t wish for nicer friends.”

  A nautical shout from Diggs broke the spell. “Avast an’ ahoy, ye lubbers, there’s the place, a-hovin’ up on our por . . . starb. . . .” He pointed. “On that side with the tall rocky bank! Now listen, crew, this good volemum is called Mumzy. So I want you all to call out to her, jolly loud. Right, one, two . . .”

  “Muuuuummmmzzzeeeee!” the young ones bellowed at the top of their voices.

  Suddenly, there she was, standing on the high banktop, waving a tablecloth. “Ah, sure, an’ doesn’t that sound like young tubgutt Diggs. So, now, I see ye’ve brought company for tea with Mumzy. Young uns an’ babbies are always welcome at my ould fireside for a sup an’ a bite. Corks an’ cloudbursts, will ye look at the size of that fine badgermaid? Faith’n’mercy, don’t eat me out of house an’ home, miz, will ye?”

  Ambrevina cheered up, waving back to the water vole. “I’ll try not to, Mumzy, but I can’t answer for Diggs!”

  Inside her comfortable dwelling, Mumzy sat the young ones down. Rubbing her paws gleefully, the water vole addressed her guests. “Sure, an’ it does me ould heart good t’see such a grand lot o’ babbies. Just ye bide here whilst Mumzy fixes up such vittles that’ll put a shine in yore eyes an’ a sheen to yore fur. Miz Ambry, you, too, Diggs, I’ve got news to report, so lissen careful, now.”

  Diggs a
nd the badgermaid paid attention to Mumzy as she began chopping nuts into honey for a pie filling.

  “Buck an’ Jango were here with their crew, but they got word that the Ravagin’ vermin were marchin’ on Redwall, aye, the full shebang o’ the villains. So yore friends didn’t wait about—they went off at the double. I think they were tryin’ to beat that ould Zwilt an’ his rascals to the Abbey. So, ye’d best be on yore way, if ye wish to help ’em out.”

  Diggs saluted her. “Naturally, marm, call of duty an’ all that, y’know! Oh, corks, does that mean we’ll miss a decent spot o’ scoff, wot?”

  Ambrevina reminded him sternly, “What would you rather do, sit here stuffing your face, or go to the assistance of your comrades?”

  The tubby young hare shrugged. “I know what I’d like to jolly well do, but I also know what I’ve bloomin’ well got to do. Forward the buffs, true blue an’ never fail. On to Redwall, posthaste!”

  Mumzy threw a few things into a small flour bag. “Here, now, take these t’help ye on yore way. ’Tis only an’ ould chestnut’n’mushroom bake an’ a bite of blackberry tart, but ’twill keep ye goin’!”

  Diggs grabbed the bag. “Grateful t’ye, marm, but what about those little blighters?”

  The motherly water vole smiled fondly at the young ones. “Ah, don’t fret yore fur about the babbies. They’ll come t’no harm with me. Sure, I’d keep ’em for good if’n I could. Just do what ye’ve got t’do, then send for ’em whenever ’tis safe t’do so. Go now, an’ may kind breezes be ever at yore backs an’ fortune smile kindly on ye!”

  Ambrevina was immediately off, though Diggs lingered a moment as Mumzy told her young guests what she was planning for their lunch. “Right, me liddle darlin’s, how’d ye fancy a honeynut tart with hot arrowroot sauce, some raspberry cordial an’ a fine ould bowl of apple’n’pear crumble?”

  Diggs gritted his teeth as he climbed to the bank top. “Lucky blighters. Serves ’em right if they scoff too flippin’ much an’ end up with tummyache, wot!”