Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

Swiffo defended his tribe stoutly. “Aye, that’s us, an’ how we choose t’live is our own business. Besides, I don’t see you carryin’ any weapons.”

A nearby shrew murmured in the young otter’s ear, “Our Log a Log don’t need swords or such. He could slay ye with a single kick o’ those Dandy Clogs, believe me.”

The shrew Chieftain clicked his deadly clogs together sharply. “Enough talk o’ slayin’. Try some of our shrewbeer an’ fried fruit flapjacks. Yore safe here with us. Oh, by the way, I don’t go in for longfalutin’ titles, so just call me Dandy, an’ that’ll be fine an’ handy!”

The fried fruit flapjacks were delicious, though the shrewbeer tasted rather strong. As they ate, Dandy discussed his plans for them. “Tomorrow we’ll get you back to yore Freepaw tribe. I’m sure they’re not far south of here.”

He looked pointedly at Uggo.

“As for you, young un, yore a long way from Redwall, ain’t ye?”

Uggo was surprised. “How’d you know I’m from Redwall?”

Dandy shrugged. “There was just somethin’ about ye, I suppose—a good guess, eh?”

The young hog nodded. “It certainly was. I came from the Abbey with an otter called Jum Gurdy, but we got separated. I don’t know whether old Jum’s alive or dead.”

Dandy winked at a tough-faced shrew. “Tell him, Dobble.”

Dobble was a typical Guosim warrior, spiky furred, with a coloured headband, kilt and broad-buckled belt with a short rapier thrust into it. He drew the rapier and began sketching in the bank sand.

“This is where we are—there’s the marsh, the dunes, shore an’ sea. I spotted yore mate Jum two days back, in company with a score of fightin’ hares an’ six Rogue Crew sea otters. They’re headin’ up to the High North Coast. Ole Skor Axehound rules the roost up there. So Jum’s alive an’ safe, though I don’t know when ye’ll meet agin.”

Uggo felt immensely relieved to hear the news of Jum Gurdy, though he could feel himself blinking back tears as he stared into the fire. “Without Mister Gurdy to guide me back to Redwall, I’m lost good’n’proper. I might never see my home, ever!”

Posy patted her friend’s back gently. “Don’t fret, Uggo, I’ll help you. We’ll find it together, you’ll see.”

Dandy stretched and yawned. “Oh, well, not tonight ye won’t. You two get a good night’s sleep an’ stop worryin’. I suppose I’ll have to take you back to Redwall Abbey meself.”

Uggo wiped a paw across his eyes. “You will, Mister Dandy, are ye sure? Do ye know the way?”

The Log a Log scoffed. “Do ye think I’d be chieftain o’ Guosim if’n I couldn’t find me tail with both paws? O’ course I knows the way to Redwall. Went there when I was nought but a liddle shaver. My pa was Log a Log then. I remember the vittles was prime, best I ever tasted. Now, you lot get some sleep. Dandy’ll take care o’ ye!”

The entire party settled down on the mossy streambank. After the heady shrewbeer, it did not take them long to drift off. Uggo lay watching the reflected campfires in the broad stream, listening to mothers lullabying baby shrews and warriors readying their weapons for the journey. He fell asleep, feeling safer than he had in a long while.

Midafternoon on a still, sunny day saw a small gathering of Dibbuns at the Abbey pond. Fottlink, the mouse Recorder of Redwall, was giving them the benefit of some seasonal advice. He peered over the top of his rock crystal glasses at them.

“Now, who can tell me what day it is today, eh?”

The shrewbabe Alfio held up a chubby paw. “It a nice sunny day, I fink.”

Fottlink ruffled Alfio’s ears. “Right, it is a nice sunny day, but it’s a very special time. Who knows?”

Brinky, the tiny volemaid, smiled shyly. “A speshilly noice, sunny day, sir!”

Fottlink returned her smile, murmuring to himself, “Aye, well, we’re getting nowhere fast.” He moved to the placid water’s edge. “See, if I’d stood here a few days back, I’d have got my paws wet. What do you make of that?”

Brinky’s friend, Murty, scratched his velvety head. “Ee pond is gone likkler!”

The Recorder encouraged him. “Very good. Now, feel this stone. Move over, Guggle, and let Murty feel the stone you’re sitting on. Go on, move, shoo!”

The Dibbun squirrelmaid moved, protesting, “But it’s nice’n’warm ta sit on!”

Fottlink’s paw shot up. “Exactly! The pond has shrunk, and the stones are warm—it’s a sign, you see? The first day of summer!”

A tiny dot of a mousebabe looked at Fottlink blankly. “Summa, wot’s dat?”

It suddenly dawned on the Recorder that this was probably the first summer most of them had seen, or could recall.

He sighed wistfully and was about to launch into an explanation about changing seasons when a charming young volemaid came from the direction of the Abbey.

“Brother Fottlink, Abbot says to tell you the meeting’s about to start in Cavern Hole, an’ you should attend.”

The Recorder took her paw gratefully. “I’ll go right away, thank you, Milda. Er, would you mind looking after the little uns? Take them to the orchard, away from this water, please.”

Milda curtsied. “Yes, Brother. Come on, mates, who wants to learn how to make daisy chains?”

They dashed off with her, shrilling, “Us goin’ ta make daisies chains wiv Mildee!”

Most of the senior Redwallers were gathered in Cavern Hole, with Abbot Thibb presiding. “Help yourselves to the lunch table and take a seat, friends.”

Fottlink piled a platter with salad, cheese and a thick slice of nut and honey roly-poly pudding. Taking a beaker of cool mint tea, he seated himself next to Sister Fisk.

When everybeast was settled, Thibb addressed them. “There’s three things we have to discuss. Uggo Wiltud’s dream, Twoggs Wiltud’s final words and the fact that they came in some way from Martin the Warrior. Any thoughts?”

Roogo Foremole raised a digging claw. “Aye, zurr, we’m bounded to ’eed ee warnens.”

Friar Wopple was in agreement. “My feelin’s exactly, Father, but you never told us fully about what young Uggo’s dream was. Can you explain?”

Thibb deferred to his Gatekeeper. “Dorka Gurdy was the one who recognised Uggo’s dream for what it was. Dorka?”

The otter Gatekeeper explained simply. “Uggo dreamed a ship was comin’ to attack our Abbey—he saw it in his dream. I would’ve said ’twas only the ravin’s of a liddle’og who’d eaten enough cake t’give ’im nightmares. But then he described the ship, a green-sailed craft with the Wearat sign on its mainsail. Said he saw a beast aboard it, so ugly it could’ve been the Wearat hisself. I think ’twas a true vision.”

Abbot Thibb nodded. “Aye, so did your brother Jum. That’s why he went off with Uggo, to find your old uncle Wullow. Jum said Wullow had told him the Wearat was slain by sea otters, and his ship sank after being fired. He went to find if Wullow was telling the truth.”

Sister Fisk stood up to be heard. “Added to that, there’s the message we received from that old Wiltud hog Twoggs. What was it she said?”

Here Fottlink took out a piece of bark parchment. “I recorded our Father Abbot’s exact words—listen.”

“Redwall has once been cautioned,

heed now what I must say,

that sail bearing eyes and a trident,

will surely come your way.

Then if ye will not trust the word,

of a Wiltud and her kin,

believe the mouse with the shining sword,

for I was warned by him!”

Fottlink held up the parchment for all to see. “So said Twoggs Wiltud, a wretched old hogwife who had neither skill to read nor write. Those words could only have been put in her mind by our Abbey’s guiding spirit, Martin the Warrior. To me, this can mean only one thing—we are in danger of being attacked by a Wearat. I know it sounds unlikely, but this beast is coming to Redwall in a green-sailed ship! Who amongst us would doubt the word of Martin?”