Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The shouts were coming from beyond the east wall.

Skipper and Buckler ran around there by way of the walltops. There was Diggs, looking up at the battlements, grinning like a demented frog. He had with him a ferret, whom he whacked with his loaded sling every time the vermin made a move.

Skipper smiled down at him. "Ahoy, young Diggs. Who's that scallywag ye have in tow?"

The tubby hare kicked the prisoner's tail end cheerfully. "C'mon, don't stand there like last season's leftover pudden. Tell the nice chap your flippin' name--smartly now, laddie buck!"

"Gripchun, sir, me name's Gripchun!" the unhappy captive shouted.

Two Guosim unlocked the east wickergate, and Diggs swaggered in, kicking the ferret before him.

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Jango glared at the garrulous hare. "Where did ye get that un?"

Diggs waggled his ears at the Shrew Chieftain. "Oh, nowhere, really, old Log a Thing. I just came across the blighter prowlin' round the shrubbery, so I surrounded him an' chunnered him into submission, wot!"

Jango glared at him sourly and stalked off.

Buckler clapped his friend on the back. "Good old Diggs! A captive, eh? I'll make him talk!"

Diggs threw a headlock on the wretched ferret. "Rather y'didn't, Buck. Leave old Gripchun t'me. I'll soon have the blighter talkin' faster'n me." He applied the headlock tighter. "Ain't that right, my stinky old friend? Dastardly Diggs the Terrible Torturer, that's what they call me!"

Assisted by Fumbril and Marjoram, Clarinna was escorted into Great Hall, where Diggs had bound Gripchun to a sandstone column.

Buckler pointed to the ferret. "Was this one of the vermin who attacked you, Clarinna?"

She shook her head. "No. They were all large rats, except for the dark-furred one, Zwilt. He's not one of them, I'm sure."

Diggs made a great show of rolling up his tunic sleeves. "Right ho, then, Gripchun, me foul old vermin. Let's find out a little bit about you, wot! Now, there's no sense in beatin' round the jolly old bush, so we'll get right to it. Can some kind creature please bring me a large sharp axe, the larger'n'sharper, the better? Oh, an' some boilin' water, about a cauldron full. Hmm, I suppose we'd better have a few iron pokers an' stuff to light a good roarin' fire. That'll do for now, wot. No good interrogatin' victims without the proper stuff!"

Abbess Marjoram was horrified. "Mister Diggs! Surely you're not planning on torturing this beast inside my Abbey?"

Diggs saluted cheerily. "Pardon me, marm. I'll take the

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scoundrel outside, if the noise bothers you, wot. These rascals do screech an' wail a bit, y'know!"

Turning his back on the ferret, Buckler tipped Marjoram a huge, mischievous wink. "You leave it to Diggs, marm. I've never known a vermin that wouldn't talk after a session with him!"

Marjoram knew then that it was all a ruse to loosen Gripchun's tongue. She kept up the pretence. "Well, take him outside, over to the west wall steps. I'm not having this Abbey messed up with the result of axes, pokers, boiling water and fires!"

Diggs bowed, making an elegant leg. "My thanks t'ye, marm. It shouldn't take too long."

Skipper chuckled. "Oh, I think it will--ole Gripchun's just fainted clear away with fright. Look at him!"

They carried the ferret out to lay him on the wallsteps, then waited until he stirred.

Buckler watched him closely, remarking to Diggs, "I think he should sing like a skylark now. Leave this to me-- you go and find something to eat, mate."

The tubby hare needed no second invitation. At the mere mention of food, he scooted off kitchenward.

Buckler borrowed a beaker of water from the gatehouse. He sprinkled it on Gripchun until the ferret was awake once more. Wide eyed, he lay there, not daring to move.

"That fat rabbet, Diggs, 'as 'e gone, sir?"

Buckler nodded. "Aye, but I can bring him back if ye so wish--"

The ferret let out a wail. "Noooooo! Don't let 'im near me, sir, please. I'll tell yer wot ye wants ter know, on me 'onner I will!"

Buckler patted his tear-stained muzzle. "That's the stuff--but trust me, I'll know if you're lying. So I want straight answers. Now, who is this creature they call the Sable Quean, and what is she doing here in Moss-flower?"

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Gripchun swallowed hard. "I've never seen 'er, sir, on me life I ain't. I'm just one of the Ravagers. Zwilt gives all the orders, an' we just carries 'em out."

Buckler nodded. "So this Sable Quean prob'ly gives Zwilt his orders, and he passes 'em on to you?"

The ferret's head nodded vigourously. "That's right, yer 'onner. There must be about tenscore of us Ravagers by now. Zwilt brought in a mob o' new beasts, river rats, they are."

Buckler exchanged glances with Skipper, who was sitting on a higher step, taking it all in. He put his next question to the prisoner.

"An' what exactly are your orders?"

Gripchun replied obediently, "To take any youngbeasts we comes across, liddle woodlanders. We catches 'em an' passes 'em over to Zwilt. I don't know where 'e takes 'em though, I swear!"

Buckler leaned closer, staring hard at the ferret. "Don't you have any idea where the young ones go to?"

For answer, Gripchun spat on his pawpad, then dabbed it on either eartip--a vermin habit to show that he was speaking truly. "If'n I knowed, I'd tell ye, sir."

The young hare tried another tack. "Tell me more about this beast, Zwilt the Shade. Who is he? Where did he come from? How did he choose you to become a Ravager?"

The vermin became more animated with his reply "I ain't seen nothin' like Zwilt, sir. 'E's tall an' slim but real strong, very fierce, too. Ye never knows where Zwilt's goin' to turn up. Some says 'e's magic, appearin' an' vanishin' jus' like that! But I tells yer, Zwilt'd slay ye soon as look at ye. I never seen one so quick wid a blade as Zwilt is with that big sword 'e carries under 'is cloak--pure murder, 'e is!"

Skipper interrupted. "So how did ye meet up with him?"

Gripchun shrugged. "I used t'roam far north o' Moss-flower wid a gang o' weasels, stoats an' ferrets like meself. Our chief was Gadra the Spear, a real warrior, expert killer 'e was. Then one night, Zwilt jus' turns up at our camp an'

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tells Gadra that we're all gonna be Ravagers an' that 'e's the new chief."

Skipper raised an eyebrow. "I'll wager ole Gadra didn't like the sound o' that, eh?"

Gripchun continued, "Gadra challenged Zwilt to a fight, right off. Huh, pore Gadra, Zwilt made 'im look like a fool--'twasn't nice ter watch. Zwilt tore Gadra t'bits with the big sword, laughin' an' tormentin' 'im like a snake wid a worm. Once 'e finished with Gadra, we was left wid no choice but ter follow Zwilt the Shade. So, that's 'ow I came t'be a Ravager, sir."

Skipper murmured to Buckler, "Zwilt the Shade sounds like a reg'lar terror t'me." A dangerous look entered the hare's eye. "We'll see how much of a terror Zwilt is when he meets a warrior who can fight back!"

Oakheart Witherspyk had been patrolling the walltops, a part of his duties as protector of Redwall. He marched grandly down the wallsteps. "Well, well, 'pon me spikes an' snout, what have we here? A fiendish vermin, eh!"

Buckler felt that he wanted to talk over the information he had gleaned with Skipper. So he delegated charge of the prisoner to the portly hog. "I know he doesn't deserve it, Oakie, but I want you to take this rascal over to the kitchens an' see that he's fed'n'watered. Keep an eye on him, though!"

The big hedgehog took his responsibilities seriously Gripchun found himself seized tightly by ear and tail. Oakheart frogmarched him off, admonishing the vermin sternly, "Zounds, one rascally move out o' ye, sirrah, an' I'll belt ye from here to suppertime an' back!"

Buckler called out, as the unhappy ferret was hauled off, "If that villain gives you any trouble, just turn him over to Diggs--he'll know what t'do!"