Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

Filled with trepidation, Shekra entered the cabin. Razzid closed the door behind him. Leaning on his trident haft, he fixed the vixen with a piercing stare, stating flatly, “Ye know the penalty for mutiny agin yore cap’n, I suppose?”

With a sob in her voice, Shekra protested, “Sire, I have always been loyal to you, I swear!”

He knocked her flat with a swift kick, hissing viciously, “D’ye take me for an idiot? I know wot’s been goin’ on twixt you an’ those other two, Mowlag’n’Jiboree. Speak just one more lie an’ I’ll rip yore throat out with this trident. Tell the truth an’ I’ll let ye live. So?”

Shekra had no option but to confess, though with a little twist of her own. “Lord, they threatened to kill me if I didn’t go along with ’em. They were going to murder you as we sailed up the River Moss, but I talked them out of it. I said wait until we conquer Redwall first. I was playing for time, you see. I was going to warn you, believe me, sire.”

Razzid nodded. “I see, an’ were the crew with them, too?”

The vixen sensed a further opportunity. “They wouldn’t tell me, sire. Some were, some weren’t. But leave it to me. I’ll discover who was in on it with them.”

The Wearat leaned forward, his breath tickling her nostrils. “Leave that to me, an’ heed wot I say now. Nobeast, not Mowlag, Jiboree or any o’ the crew must know of this—not a single word, d’ye hear me?”

Shekra gulped. “My lips are sealed, Cap’n!”

Razzid’s searching eye never left her for a moment. “They’ll be sealed for good if’n ye play me false. Get up!”

The vixen staggered up on shaking limbs as Razzid pointed to the bulkhead wall. “Stand there an’ raise yore right paw. Go on, fox, do it. I ain’t goin’ to kill ye. Just raise that paw an’ swear to serve me truly.”

Gaining a little confidence, Shekra spoke up. “I give my oath I’ll always serve you truly, sire!”

Razzid struck like lightning.

Thud! The trident’s middle prong went right through the vixen’s paw into the wall behind. She gave an agonised screech, which was stifled by Razzid’s paw across her mouth. Smiling savagely at Shekra, he explained his cruel act. “Said I wouldn’t kill ye, didn’t I? That didn’t mean ye weren’t to be punished for plottin’ agin me.”

Shekra gave vent to a long-stifled moan as he twisted the trident, withdrawing it. Razzid shoved her contemptuously toward the door. “Yore still alive, ain’t ye? Stop whinin’ an’ git out o’ my cabin. Yore gettin’ blood everywhere!” With her face a drawn mask of pain, the Seer reeled out on deck, clasping her paw tightly to stanch the wound.

Razzid put his head out, calling to the cook, “Badtooth, bring me some decent food an’ a jug o’ the best grog. Move yoreself, I’m famished!”

Badtooth, the fat greasy weasel, watched as Razzid divided a roast wood pigeon into two portions and placed beakers of grog on the table. Razzid winked. “Join me, my ole shipmate—ye did well.”

Badtooth gnawed on the meat, then slopped down some grog. “Thankee, Cap’n. Anythin’ else ye need me t’find out for ye?”

Razzid clinked beakers with his spy. “Just keep yore eyes’n’ears open when ye mix with the crew.”

The fat weasel cackled. “Heeheehee! That’ll be easy. Oh, I sent me liddle nephew Twangee out wid the tree-choppin’ gang. Young Twangee’s got a sharp pair of ears on ’im fer a wee galley weasel.”

Razzid nodded. “Good! When ye dish up vittles t’night, give the crew an extra ration o’ grog, eh!”

The cook’s huge stomach wobbled as he laughed. “Heehee, ain’t nothin’ like extra grog t’set their tongues loose an’ waggin’. I’ll give ’em plenty! Well, Cap’n, here’s t’the death of yore enemies an’ a victory over that Abbey!”

Razzid winked his good eye at Badtooth. “I’ll drink to that, shipmate!”

Dusk was falling as Sister Fisk and Milda the volemaid supervised the Dibbuns’ bedtime. It was difficult, as there was an air of excitement amongst the Abbeybabes. No sooner were they put into their truckle beds than they wriggled out and scurried to the dormitory windows. The Sister stamped her footpaw firmly down.

“Back in those beds immediately. Right now, d’ye hear me?”

The squirrelbabe Guggle yelled as Milda prised her paws from the windowsill.

“Lemmego, Mildy, wanna see da big naughtybeast ship!”

Sister Fisk tried not to raise her voice. “There’s nothing to see—it’s dark outside. Now go to bed!”

Alfio, the Dibbun shrew, wrinkled his nose cheekily as he encouraged the others to set up a chant. “Dab! Dab! Dab!”

Milda sighed. “They’re starting the Dibbuns Against Bedtime chant, Sister. What’ll we do?”

Ever resourceful, Fisk emptied the contents of a small vial into a jug of warm plum cordial. This she poured into small beakers, coaxing the Dibbuns into their beds with it.

“Last one in bed doesn’t get any plum cordial—hurry now!”

There was a mass scramble to be first under the covers. As Fisk and Milda distributed the drinks, the little ones kept up a constant chatter, each question demanding a reply.

“Will the bad naughtybeasts go away, Mildy?”

“Oh, yes, I expect they will, when Father Abbot has a word with them. Careful with that drink now.”

“Hurr hurr, ee h’Abbot choppen they tails off with Marthen’s gurt sword—they’m wull soon go ’way!”

Sister Fisk smiled at the molebabe. “Indeed he will, and you’ll be next if you’re not asleep soon.”

Alfio the shrewbabe sat up, shaking his head decisively. “Alfio can’t go t’sleep wivout a song!”

Milda gently eased him back down. “All close your eyes, then I’ll sing for you.”

The young volemaid had a warm, soothing voice. She sang a lullaby as Sister Fisk moved quietly about, collecting the beakers.

“When all the trees stand silent,

this is the time I love best,

after old daylight’s faded,

when the sun has sunk to rest.

Off midst the tranquil darkness,

a nightingale sings to the moon,

butterflies close their eyes,

they’ll be a-slumb’ring soon.

Lullaby, hush you now,

after your busy day,

even bees on nights like these,

cease bumbling away.

Deep streams go quietly murm’ring,

faintly small breezes sigh.

Hush now . . . hush now . . . lullaaaaby.”

Sister Fisk patted Milda’s paw. “Oh, well done, miss. Now come away carefully, we don’t want to disturb them.”

Outside the dormitory door, Milda remarked, “The little ones were asleep before I’d finished, Sister, but I usually have to sing the lullaby twice.”

Fisk held up the small vial, chuckling. “My last few drops of marjoram oil—pure and harmless, the best slumber medicine I know. I shouldn’t say this, but I wish the Dibbuns would sleep through all of this ill fortune which has descended on us. Mark my words, young un, there’s trouble ahead for our Abbey. Big trouble!”

29

In the close confines of the tunnel, countless bats filled the limited space. There were so many of the dark-winged creatures that the hares, otters and the three hedgehogs had to crouch so low they were almost flat with the ground.

Sergeant Miggory covered Posy with his paws. “H’are you alright, missy?”

The young hogmaid replied, “I’m fine, thank you, Sergeant. There’s so many bats, but I haven’t been touched by one yet.”

Lancejack Sage added. “Neither have I. Jolly odd, ain’t it?”