Buckler interrupted him. “I don’t think they’ll be coming back today, Diggs. We had a small run-in with Zwilt an’ a few others back there. Four of ’em went down, but Zwilt got away. Shame, really. I was longin’ to cross blades with that evil scum.”
Twilight was falling over the orchard by the time everything had been talked about.
The Abbess went over what had been said. “So what you’re saying is that this Warrior mole Axtel knows exactly where the young uns are imprisoned.”
Skipper nodded. “Right, marm. I know the place myself. In fact, I’m sure I could find it. That big oak, it’s a whole pile o’ caves an’ passages under the roots.”
Granvy interrupted. “It’s the hideout which the vermin call Althier—but really it’s the old Corim headquarters that was known originally as Brockhall.”
Marjoram sipped some cold mint tea. “Then I take it you intend attacking the place to free the young uns. But what about the Sable Quean and the beast called Zwilt?”
Buckler shrugged. “It doesn’t look like they’ll be payin’ us a visit today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t show up, marm. Maybe they’re on their way here right now, though somehow I doubt it. Anyhow, if they don’t show up by midday tomorrow, it ain’t likely that they will. But the Abbey must still be defended, or at least, seem to be defended.”
The Abbess put aside her tea. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Skipper winked at Marjoram. “Let me explain, marm. Just after midday tomorrow, Buck an’ Diggs are goin’ to slip out o’ Redwall. With them’ll be the Log a Log an’ all the Guosim fighters. They’ve laid their plans for a surprise attack on Althier, an’ if’n it all goes well, the rest o’ the young uns will be back at our Abbey afore long.”
Marjoram looked slightly perplexed. “But doesn’t that leave us short of defence here?”
Now it was Diggs’s turn to speak. “Not at all, dear marm, for I have worked out an absolutely spiffin’ wheeze. Haha an’ hoho, leave it to clever old Subaltern Meliton Gubthorpe Digglethwaite, the super tactician, an’ be not alarmed, O Superior Mother of this Abbey!”
Marjoram turned appealingly to anybeast within earshot. “What in the name of all seasons is he talking about?”
Diggs was about to reply when his attention was distracted by the delivery of more food to the lunch table. With an adroit move, he commandeered a platter of rhubarb and apple crumble. This allowed Oakheart Witherspyk to take the floor.
Sweeping off his floppy hat, the portly hedgehog made an elaborate bow. “Allow me, Abbess. The defence force will be made up of my goodself, Skipper, Bartij, Sister Fumbril and such Redwallers and members of my troupe as are required. Not a lot, you may say, an’ rather few warriors. But what will win the day for us? Why, subterfuge, illusion and trickery, what else? Look up to the west wall threshold. Tell me, what do you see?”
Marjoram stared up at the wall. “Three tall, cloaked figures armed with spears. Where did they come from?”
One of the tall figures swept back the surrounding cloak, shouting down to Oakheart, “Well, what d’ye think, Pa?”
It was young Rambuculus, holding up a window pole on which the cloak and hood were propped.
Oakheart called to him, “That’s the style, you young scamp, but hold the spear higher and tell Trajidia not to start declaiming to unseen foebeasts.”
Trajidia emerged from another hooded cloak. She stamped a footpaw moodily upon the parapet. “Oh, Father, I’ll get no acting experience at all just standing here like this pole I’m holding. I can sound really fearsome, y’know—listen to this.”
She waved the spear, which was, in reality, a hoe with a carrot stuck on top. “Begone, vile vermin! Back, back, to the shadow of your dark lairs, ere ye provoke the wrath of a warrior hogmaid and bring calamity upon yourselves!”
Oakheart clapped a paw to his brow. “No, no, my precious. Your voice is far too shrill an’ ladylike. Try muttering it under your breath, fiercely, and in a gruff register.”
Turning back to Marjoram, he reassured her, “Drull Hogwife has a double closet full of old habit cloaks, all hooded. Subterfuge, y’see, marm. We can make it appear as though the walltops are bristling with defenders, all well armed. A load of squinty vermin won’t know the difference. An’ we can bellow out orders, march back’n’forth, do a lot of stampin’, salutin’ an’ commandin’. Well, what d’ye say, Marj, my old friend?”
Marjoram sighed. “It just might do at that, Oakie. If a couple of hundred Ravager beasts turn up outside our walls, I hope it does, for all our sakes!”
Granvy patted Marjoram’s paw. “It’ll work, don’t worry. We won’t just be yelling and rattling spears about. I’m working with Foremole and his crew. We’re making some big ballistas to hurl stones and all manner of missiles. That should keep any invaders busy, right, Darbee?”
The Foremole nodded solemnly. “Ho urr, marm, us’n’s wull give ’em billyoh, an’ chuck gurt bowlders on they’m vurmint skulls, hurr aye!”
Somehow, the stolid mole’s logic seemed to comfort Marjoram. She smiled briefly.
“So be it, then.”
20
Down in the depths of the escape tunnel, two lanterns reflected weakly as they flickered over the dark water, which stretched away as far as the eye could see. Tura hitched the mousebabe Diggla higher on her back as she waded in. The squirrelmaid shuddered.
“Phwaah! It’s freezin’ cold!”
Jinty dipped her paw in, then leapt back. “I don’t like this. Can’t we go back an’ see what it’s like the other way?”
Trying to set an example, Midda splashed boldly into the water. “Oh, it ain’t too bad once yore in here!”
Jiddle stood alongside his sister, loath to go in. “Maybe Jinty’s right. Mightn’t the other way be better?”
Midda turned on both Witherspyk hogs. “Listen, you two. I don’t like this any more’n you do. But this is the way we chose, so this is the way we’re goin’, see? Now, come on, get yore paws wet!”
Jiddle and Jinty still did not make a move. Jinty commented, “I wish Flandor was here. He was an otter. They’re used to water an’ things like that. He could’ve gone ahead to see how far it stretches.”
Tura was in over her waist now. She backed her friend up. “Midda’s right. We’ve got t’go on. If’n ye turn back, it’s just losin’ valuable time. Besides, you’d prob’ly walk slap bang into the vermin. I’ll wager they’ve found how we escaped, an’ it won’t take ’em too long to unblock the hole. Come on!”
Both hogs hesitated reluctantly at the water ’s edge.
Midda became furious, wading back toward them, yelling, “Go on, just think of yoreselves. Forget these little uns that we’re tryin’ to save. Look, either you make a move right now, or me’n Tura will double up our loads with those babes yore carryin’. Then you can do wot ye please. Either stay there an’ moan about how scared ye are, or go back an’ tell the vermin yore sorry for escapin’. Well?”
Rather shamefaced, Jiddle and Jinty waded into the water.
They pushed on into the gloom. The water got gradually deeper, until they were going on tippaws, holding their chins up. Then the tunnel took a turn. Midda had now taken the lead, with Tura slightly behind her. Two little ones were holding on to the squirrelmaid’s tail, treading water, as it had become too deep for them. Suddenly Midda went under. There was a small hiss as the lantern she was carrying went down with her. Urfa the little harebabe gave a bubbling squeal.
The shrewmaid fought her way back to Tura. She was spitting water and wiping her eyes. “Here, stay where you are, mate, hold on to this babe. I’ve done a bit of swim min’, so I’ll go ahead an’ sound out how much deeper this is an’ how much further we’ve got to go. Be back as soon as I can!”
The escape party stood neck high, shivering in the icy water as they waited for Midda’s return. Diggla liked the echoing sound of his voice, so he made full use of it.
“Yoo-hoo, Middy, where are y
ou? Yoo-hoo! She taken a h’awful longa time, innen’t she?”
Jinty felt something strike her footpaw. She chided Jiddle, “Stop kicking me, it’s not funny. I nearly fell over then.”
Her brother replied indignantly, “I didn’t kick you. What’re ye talkin’ about?”
Tura hissed urgently at the pair, “There’s somethin’ in the water—don’t move. Stand where you are. It just brushed by me. Whatever it is, it’s big an’ strong. Don’t move a muscle, it might leave us alone. Stay perfectly still!”
The little ones who were in the water hanging on to the squirrelmaid’s tail, plus a few who were large enough to wade on their own, became frightened.
“Whoo, I felt it! Quick, let’s get back onna dry bit!”
“Burr, ee’m feels loike ee gurt surpint!”
At that moment, Midda came swimming back, guided by the light from their remaining lantern, which Tura was holding aloft.
The shrewmaid waved. “It goes a little deeper further on, but not for long, then it gets shallower. What’s up? Why are ye lookin’ at me like that, mate?”
Tura could feel the thing curling slowly around her footpaws. Her voice became shrill, strained with fear. “There’s a beast in the water, feels huge’n’slimy!”
Midda halted, feeling her footpaws touch ground. “A beast, ye say, where?”
Tura had both her eyes shut tight. The mousebabe and the little hare perched on her shoulders, clinging like limpets to her ears as she muttered, “Windin’ itself round my leg—no, wait, it’s let go now. See the water ripplin’, Midda? It’s headin’ over to you. Listen, we’re all goin’ to back slowly out of the water, ’til we’re safe on dry ground.”
Midda kept her voice level as she replied, “Good idea, but afore ye do, d’ye mind tossin’ me the lantern? Uhuh, it’s nosin’ round me now!”
Tura threw the lantern, holding it with both paws to keep it up straight. Midda caught it neatly, with one paw underneath and the other catching the ring on the top. Meanwhile, Tura and the others began performing a painfully slow retreat to the bank.
Midda held the lantern down so that its base reached the water’s surface. The shrewmaid stood motionless, peering into the water. When she spoke again, her voice was tense with fright. “Oh, no, it’s an eel, a bloomin’ giant of a one. I’ve never seen one like it in river or stream. Wait, it’s comin’ up!”
Slowly at first, the eel surfaced, its smooth snout poking out of the water. It was a huge female yellow eel, with eyes like milk-hued pebbles. Seeking the warmth of the lantern’s crystal glass, it nosed up against it. Midda held the lantern steady as she studied the creature. A feathery dorsal fin rippled down its muddy olive-hued back. As it rose further, the underside was exposed in the lantern light, creamy yellowish, the colour of old ivory. Midda moved her face closer to its eyes—it seemed to ignore her. Then the truth dawned upon the Guosim maid.
“It’s blind, Tura. This eel can’t see a thing. It was prob’ly born down here an’ lived all its life in these dark waters. Look out . . . ooofff!”
Jiddle could not contain himself; he yelled out, “What is it, Midda? Did it bite ye?”
Midda, who had stumbled sideways, righted herself. She held the lantern up, pointing to the tunnel side. “Look, look over there. It’s chasin’ those little white fishes. There’s a great shoal of ’em!”
Sure enough, the tiny fish reflected the lantern light. Silvery white, like frosted pine needles, they shot out of the water, scattering hither and thither to avoid the eel’s hungry jaws. The icy water bubbled and splashed as the monster eel drove its coils along in a lightning pursuit of its sole food source, the tiny cavern fish which were as blind as their hunter. Off they went, in a splashing stampede, with the hungry predator making devastating forays into the teeming shoal.
Midda shouldered Urfa once more, urging the rest forward without delay. “Hurry now, everybeast, back into the water! Stick to the right side of the tunnel. We’ll make a dash for it while that thing’s busy with dinner!”
This time there was no argument. They waded quickly in, with Midda in the lead and Tura bringing up the rear. Jinty called out advice. “Pull yourselves along on the wallside—there’s a ledge stickin’ out. It’s much faster!”
Her tip proved true. A thin rim of rock, level with the water surface, stuck out. It was ideal for pulling a body through the water. They practically flew along, spurred on by the fear that the big eel might return at any moment.
Gasping and panting, they emerged from their icy, wet ordeal onto a soily clay-mixed bank. Tura flopped down, relinquishing Diggla, who limped about, trying to rid his limbs of their stiffness.
Jiddle grabbed him firmly. “Sit still here, ye little scamp, an’ don’t go runnin’ off, d’ye hear me?”
The mousebabe stuck out his lower lip ruefully. “I hungry. Diggla be hungry, want vikkles!”
Midda held up the lantern, inspecting their surroundings. “Hmm, should be somethin’ hereabouts. Look at all those roots hanging from the ceilin’.”
Jinty seized a molebabe who was stuffing her mouth with a soft white substance. The Witherspyk hogmaid began rooting it out of the babe’s mouth. “What’n the name o’ spikes is that stuff? Come on, spit it out—it might be poison!”
Tura saw the source of the molebabe’s feast. “No, look, it’s some sort of mushroom. I’ve seen these before—they’re alright to eat.”
The mushrooms did not have any stem. They stuck out amidst roots and soil like smooth white shelves.
Midda tasted one. It was quite pleasant, with a nutty, wholesome flavour.
Jiddle chanced a piece. “Hmm, not bad at all. This should keep us goin’ until we get some proper vittles.”
Diggla ate a bite or two of the white fungus, then started pulling chunks off and throwing them at Midda and Tura. “This not be nice vikkles. Diggla not eat it!”
Midda wagged a stern paw at the mousebabe. “That’s good food. Stop throwin’ it about this instant!”
Diggla stopped, warned by the shrewmaid’s severity. However, that did not keep him from complaining sulkily, “You sayed we gonna getta h’apple pudden, wiv hunny an’ meddycream. Huh, an’ straw’bee fizz t’drink. You h’only a big fibberbeast!”
That was when Midda lost her temper. She leapt up, roaring at the hapless mousebabe, “Shuttup, you ungrateful liddle snip. If it wasn’t for me’n’Tura, you’d still be eatin’ slops an’ drinkin’ stale water in that vermin prison! I’ve had about enough of you. Yore nothin’ but a spoilt liddle nuisance who has t’be carried everywhere! We should’ve left you behind!”
This caused Diggla to throw back his head and bellow piteously. “Waaaah! Waaaaah! She shouten at me, an’ I h’only a likkle beast! Waaahahaaah! Worra she shouted at Diggla like that for? I never doo’d noffink!”
His cries set the other babes off, weeping and sobbing.
Tura clapped paws about her ears. “Please, somebeast, do something to stop ’em bawlin’. I can’t stand it!”
Unexpectedly, it was the Witherspyk hogtwins who did the trick. They bounded forward and performed a comic duet from their troupe repertoire. It was a song in which they acted the parts of two spoilt babes. It caused merriment amongst the little ones, particularly Diggla, who had no idea the lyrics were aimed at him. Jiddle and Jinty cavorted about, pulling tongues and making funny faces as they sang.“Yah boo, I don’t like you,
an’ I can cry all day,
if I don’t get just what I want,
then you will hear me say,
‘I . . . wanna drinka water, ain’t goin’ asleep,
waah waah boo hoo hoo!
If you ain’t extra nice to me,
I won’t breathe ’til I turn blue!
I’ll stick me tongue out, curl me tail,
an’ tweak the bab’s snout,
kick Granma, annoy Granpa,
an’ scream an’ yell an’ shout.
Yah yah boo hoo hoo,
see I can cry
real tears,
an’ make me eyes go funny red,
an’ wiggle both my ears.
Now do’s I say, or I’ll whinge all day,
waah waah sob boohoo!
Yah yah yah! Waah waah waah!
An’ I still don’t like you . . . so there!”
The babes thought this was hilarious, falling about chortling and giggling at the twin hogs’ antics, forgetting their previous woeful mood. After eating more mushrooms and drinking cold water, they began to doze off.
Tura blew a soft sigh of relief. “Thank the seasons for that. Let’s hope they don’t kick off agin soon.”
Midda settled her back against the wall, eyes half closed. “I think we could chance a rest here. It seems fairly safe—what d’you think, mate?”
Tura let her bushy tail curl over her face. “Aye. Don’t think we’re bein’ followed just yet. Besides, we’d hear the vermin splashin’ through the water an’ that’d give us warnin’ enough. Ah, well, wonder how much further we’ve got to go afore we’re out of here?”
Jiddle nodded up the passage. “D’ye want me’n’Jinty to go an’ take a look?”
Midda opened one eye. “If ye really want to, but go carefully. If’n ye find anythin’ interestin’, then come straight back here an’ tell us.”
Jiddle broke off some dead roots, binding them together with rootstrands. He beat the end of the bundle with a stone. This caused the dead wood to bush and feather out. The resourceful young hog lit it from the lantern flame, making a stout and useful torch.
He and his sister walked off down the tunnel, surrounded by a small halo of light. It diminished, then disappeared as they rounded a bend.
Midda settled back to rest, commenting, “Those two are gettin’ pretty valuable to have around.”
Tura sighed wearily. “Please don’t talk t’me. Can’t ye see I’m asleep? You’d better rest while ye can, mate!”
The Sable Quean (Redwall) Page 24
