Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The water was foul and stagnant, because it terminated, further up, in a dead end. Much to the relief of everybeast, the tree foliage thinned out, exposing blue sky and sunlight overhead.

Log a Log Jango called a halt, whilst one of the Guosim produced an earthenware jar full of an evil-smelling unction.

Diggs sniffed it and gagged. "Phwaw, what a bloomin' pong! Is it some sort of secret weapon for chuckin' at the blinkin' enemy?"

Taking a pawful, Sniffy began smearing it on his face. "This is shrewgoo, mate. Ain't you ever 'eard of it? Lissen, we're goin' t'be sailin' through all sorts of stingy insecks soon. Wasps'n'ornets, zingers'n'biters. The blighters'll eat ye alive if'n you ain't got shrewgoo on yore face."

Jango began daubing the stuff on his head. "Sniffy's right. Those insecks don't like the ole shrewgoo--they won't bother ye if'n ye smear some on."

Taking the Guosims' advice, all the travellers applied the anti-insect unction to their faces, though not with any great relish.

Trajidia wailed pitifully, "Alas, this fair maid will never

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again smell like a dawn-dewed rose. Creatures will run a mile from me!"

Auroria, Oakheart's other daughter, leaned over the rail of the raft. "Whooohoops! I think I'm going t'be sick, dreadful pongy shrewgoo!"

"Shooey pongroo!" was baby Dubdub's comment.

Diggs watched in horror as Buckler smeared his face. "Good grief, Buck! You ain't actually puttin' that confounded stuff on your han'some young fizzgog, wot? Keep it well away from me, chaps. I'd sooner put up with the jolly old zingers. Hah, I ain't smellin' like a mouldy old toad's midden on a rainy day. Not me!"

Jango's wife, Furm, shook her head at Diggs. "We'll see, my friend. We'll see!"

Though the trees had thinned out, the reeds, bulrushes and wraterweed thickened up drastically. Travelling in single file, the logboats had to force a passage through for Streatnlass.

Then the insects struck. The still, hot air buzzed and thrummed as they attacked in myriads. Clouds of winged tormentors rose from the disturbed waters of the side-stream.

Dymphnia, carrying baby Dubdub, urged her daughters, Furm, Crumfiss and the other ladies into the blockhouse on the raft. They slammed the door and let down the shutters. It worked rather well, so they lit a smoky fire, which poured out of the little chimney, giving some relief to the paddlers. Diggs was in a pitiful condition, his whole head, from eartips to throat, covered in angry swellings.

Buckler assisted Jango to push him into the blockhouse, even though Diggs was protesting.

"Ab aw bwight, chabs---lee me balone!"

Jango hustled him roughly inside, calling to the ladies, "Take care o' this young idjit. His mouth is so badly stung he can't even talk proper!"

It was midnoon before they lost the insects, owing to the tall trees closing in on them again.

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Buckler sat down on the raft deck, sighing with relief as he stared up into the green-tinged gloom. "I'd sooner face a vermin horde than have t'go through that again. We'd best go an' see how our wounded warrior's doing, eh, Oakie?"

The irrepressible Diggs was surrounded by females dabbing him with soothing salves of dockleaf, sanicle and foxglove. He gave them a lumpy smile, winking one swollen eyelid as he supped up warm vegetable soup through a hollow reed.

"Hewwo, chapth. I bee alwight thoon, woth woth!"

A shudder shook the raft as Jango called from outside, "That's as far as we goes. Make fast all vessels, fore an' aft. Sniffy, see everythin' is well covered with branches'n'bush. Form up on the bankside. We'll be movin' out soon!"

They sat on the banks of the cul-de-sac making their last meal that day. Buckler thanked Dymphnia and her daughters as he tucked into vegetable soup, a hazelnut bake and some cold plum duff.

Trajidia fluttered her eyelashes furiously as she giggled. "Think nothing of it, sir. 'Tis the least we could do after the way you steered us through that pestilence!"

Dymphnia chided her daughter. "Stop that outrageous flirting and get busy serving vittles to these hungry beasts!"

"Vikkles to 'ungry beaks!" Dubdub echoed.

Packing all they needed, the travellers set off at a leisurely pace into the woodlands. Jango walked up front with Buckler.

"I don't reckon we'll make Redwall Abbey tonight. Still, no hurry--we'll take brekkist in the Abbey tomorrow mornin', if'n we gets an early start. Then we'll talk to Abbess Marjoram an' her elders about the problem of our young uns. I'm sure she'll be able to 'elp us."

Buckler ducked an overhanging yew branch. "You seem to have confidence in Redwall an' its creatures, Jango."

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The Guosim Chieftain smiled. "Aye, an' so would you, if you'd ever visited the Abbey afore, mate."

They trudged steadily onward. In his mind, Buckler was going over all that had happened to him and Diggs since they had left Salamandastron. Lord Brang was right, travel was an adventure, and there was more to come!

Much more.

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The two fox jailers, Thwip and Binta, usually struck fear into the hearts of their little prisoners at Althier. Wielding whip and rod, they would swagger about, snarling and threatening the young creatures, reducing them to quivering wrecks.

However, this was not the case with the shrewmaid, Petunia Rosebud--or Flib, as she had named herself. The instant she was unbound from the spearhaft she had been carried on, she flew at her captors, attacking them savagely.

"Ya scrinjee-gobbed babe robbers, git yer filfy paws off a me or I'll rip yore 'eads off!"

Thwip cracked his lash. "Hoho, a tough un, eh?"

Binta came at Flib, swishing her cane. "Get in there with the others afore I beat the hide from yore back.... Eeeyah, she bit me!"

The shrewmaid had her teeth into Binta's ear. She hung on, growling like a wild beast. Thwip could not use his whip for fear of striking Binta. He grabbed Flib, trying to pry her loose from the other fox's ear.

"Right, I'm goin' to teach ye a lesson yer won't forget missy ... gnnarrrrgh!"

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Two well-aimed kicks from Flib smashed into his mouth.

"Yeeeh yeeh! Guards! 'Elp us ... 'eeeeelp!"

It took four other Ravagers to subdue Flib. Swiftly binding her paws, they managed to fling her into the gloomy holding cavern.

Thwip held three broken teeth out to the guards. "Look wot she did ter me! That un's crazy mad, I tell yer!"

One of the guards passed Binta a pawful of dried moss. "Git that on yore lug, afore ye bleeds t'death."

The vixen could taste her own blood--it was running down the side of her muzzle. She spat out spitefully, "No vittles or drink for two days--that goes for 'em all! Maybe that'll calm 'er down, when the others see it's 'er fault they ain't gettin' fed!"

One of the guards, a stern-faced ferret, spoke. "That ain't fer you t'say, Binta. Our orders come from the Sable Quean, not from you. Now go an' get their grub ready."

Flib stared at her younger brother and sister in the badly lit cave. "Midda, Borti, wot are youse two doin' in 'ere?"

Borti began crying. Midda covered his mouth. "Shush, baby--look, it's our big sister!"

Flib was simmering with rage. She gnawed at the cord binding her paws, snapping at her younger sister, "Why'd ye let 'em capture Borti, eh?"

Midda snapped back at her, "If I'd run off an' left Borti, I might have got away You were on yore own--why did you let 'em capture you?"

Flib never answered. She bit away madly at her bonds, staring around at the pitiful groups of young beasts who cowered in the wall shadows. As she did, her temper became more unreasonable. She snarled at them, "Wot are yew lot starin' at? Why don't ye all try to escape, instead of jus' mopin' round?"

Flandor, the young male otter, gave her the answer. "Right, we charge the vermin without a weapon twixt us. A pile of young uns, some who can just about toddle,