Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The going was slow and hard, with many a false trail. Mumzy had spent a lifetime avoiding pursuers in Mossflower. Sniffy commented on this as they crawled on their stomachs beneath widespread thick bush and shrubbery. "Like tryin' to track a fish unnerwater, this is!"

They pressed on laboriously, unaware that they were being watched by evil eyes.

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BOOK THREE Escape from Althier!

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Back at Redwall Abbey, there was some slight disagreement about who was responsible for guarding the walls. Diggs and Oakheart Witherspyk were not seeing eye-to-eye on the business of guard duties. Moreover, an officious shrew named Divvery had decided that the Guosim were not going to take orders from anybeast who was not of their tribe.

Diggs had selected all the able-bodied creatures he could find, regardless of who they were. The tubby young hare split his command into two shifts, one for daytime, the other for night. It was a good and fair system: Moles, Abbeybeasts, Guosim and Witherspyks found themselves standing together on the ramparts.

Those not on guard were employed at making weapons. Bows, arrows, slings and spears were being constructed down in Cellarmole Gurjee's cellars. The whole scheme worked fine for a day. Then things started to go awry.

Friar Soogum forgot to send lunch up to the walltops, so Divvery took the shrews off to the kitchens. Instead of taking their food back up to the walltops, they went into the orchard to eat. Oakheart was not too pleased at being

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left lunchless on sentry duty. The large, florid hedgehog was halfway down the wallsteps when he ran into Diggs, who blocked his path.

"Tut, tut, Oakie, wot's this? Desertin' your bloomin' post? Back up t'the jolly old walltops, this instant!"

Oakheart pushed past him indignantly. "Back up y'self, sirrah. There's only my goodself and a mere scattering of guards up there. Those shrew chappies have taken themselves off to lunch, if y'please!"

Diggs was taken aback. "Gone off to lunch? Deserted, just to feed their blinkin' faces! Right, leave this t'me. One thing I will not tolerate is rank disobedience. An' as for you, laddie me hog, back up on duty, before I put you on a bloomin' fizzer. On the double!"

Oakheart's stomach began rumbling. This made him take umbrage against Diggs. "Pish tush, laddie. I'm senior to you, both in season an' rank, and I intend to take lunch forthwith. You stop me at your peril, I warn ye!"

Trajidia came hurrying down the wallsteps. "Oh, Father, pray do not strike him down!"

Foremole Darbee came trundling along the ramparts. "Yurr, thur'll be no strikin' h'inside ee Abbey!"

Oakheart held up his paws. "Who said I was goin' to strike him?"

Drull Hogwife pointed a paw at Trajidia. "She did!"

Young Rambuculus Witherspyk sniggered. "Can I come to lunch with ye, Pa? I'll help ye to strike him!"

Oakheart was incensed at his son's insolence. "One more word out of you an' I'll tan your hide!"

"What's all this about beasts being struck within my walls? The very idea of it!"

Everybeast fell silent at the sudden appearance of Abbess Marjoram. Oakheart faltered lamely. "But we've had no lunch...."

Marjoram faced him squarely, her voice stern. "Is that any reason for argument and talk of striking?"

Trajidia uttered a dramatic sob. "My dear father is

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the gentlest of creatures. He would never strike another beast!"

Drull Hogwife spoke out. "Then why did ye say he would?"

Rambuculus chortled. "She's always sayin' things like that."

Marjoram had heard Rambuculus volunteering to help his father strike Diggs. She fixed both young hogs with a severe stare. "You two are relieved of wall duty. Go and see Gurjee. Tell him that you're on cellar-sweeping duty for the next two days."

She turned to Drull for further information. "Now, how did all this disagreement start?"

Drull explained, "All the shrews marched off to lunch."

Diggs spoke. "Leavin' the walls only half defended, marm."

Oakheart could not resist adding, "Aye, and us only half fed!"

The Abbess relieved the situation. "I'll have Friar Soogum send up lunch for you all. Stay by your posts-- it'll be here shortly. Diggs, Mister Oakheart, stay up here in joint command. As for the shrews, leave them to me."

Divvery and the other Guosim were enjoying a post-lunch nap in the orchard when the Mother Abbess, backed up by Sister Fumbril, marched in on them. Marjoram did not hesitate.

"Excuse me, are we disturbing anything?"

Divvery did not even bother rising. "No, you ain't. We're havin' our lunch, marm."

Marjoram nodded. "So I see. And what about guarding the walltops? Doesn't that interest you?"

Divvery shrugged. "Ain't no lunch up there. We came down to get somethin' to eat. Got a right to vittles, ain't we?"

The Abbess kept her voice level, betraying nothing. "Yes, of course you have. But now you're finished, perhaps you'd better resume guard duties."

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The other shrews looked to their self-appointed leader. Divvery had not stirred, so they stayed put.

Marjoram turned, as if to walk away. "Log a Log Jango will be pleased to hear of your conduct when he returns."

They leapt up immediately and began hurrying off. No Guosim wanted to face his Log a Log for disobedience.

The Abbess called Divvery back. "Not you. I've got a different job I need taking care of."

Sister Fumbril, who was much bigger and stronger than the shrew, tripped him and neatly relieved him of his short rapier. She held him firmly as he blustered, "Wot d'ye think yore doin'? Git yer paws offa me!"

Fumbril smiled sweetly, retaining her strong hold. "I will, young sir, as soon as yore down in the cellars with a sweepin' broom in yore paws. Come along now!"

Granvy had been watching the incident from a distance. He approached Marjoram. Together they watched the rebellious shrew being hauled off to the cellars.

The Recorder commented, "Was he troubling you, Mother Abbess?"

Marjoram settled both paws in her wide sleeves. "Not at all, my friend. The only thing troubling me is those missing Dibbuns. I can't help thinking about them, wondering if they're still alive and well."

In the caverns beneath Althier or--to give the place its real title--Brockhall, the remaining young ones were alive. However, they were not well. Confinement, rough treatment and poor food were taking their toll. Slack-limbed, and dull-eyed, Tura and Midda wandered amongst the youngest creatures, trying to comfort them by telling them to sleep. Mostly the young ones wept, either for their mothers or for food. Calla and Urfa, the leverets, were the youngest of all, mere babes who could hardly talk. Tura and Midda nursed the little hares, rocking them gently, murmuring softly to them.

"There, now, get some dinner soon, sleep now, hush."

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A mousebabe tugged Midda's sleeve. His name was Diggla, and he was at that age when young ones feel compelled to question everything. "Why d'we got t'go asleep?"

Midda pushed him gently down, tucking in his tattered smock. "Because it's time t'go to sleep."

Diggla persisted. "But wot time's sleep time?"

Midda explained patiently, "Nighttime is sleep time. Now, close your eyes."

However, Diggla was not about to comply. "Is it nighttime now?"

Midda pondered the question briefly, then spoke to Tura. "D'you know, I can't tell whether 'tis night or daytime down here, can you?"

The squirrelmaid yawned, lying back wearily. "It's got t'be nighttime 'cos I feel sleepy."

Midda snuggled down next to Diggla. "I suppose you're right. Let's all get some rest. If they bring vittles, those guards'll soon wake us."

Diggla tugged her sleeve again. "Singa warmer teddo song f'me."