Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

Buckler interrupted him. "I don't think they'll be com

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ing back today, Diggs. We had a small run-in with Zwilt an' a few others back there. Four of 'em went down, but Zwilt got away. Shame, really. I was longin' to cross blades with that evil scum."

Twilight was falling over the orchard by the time everything had been talked about.

The Abbess went over what had been said. "So what you're saying is that this Warrior mole Axtel knows exactly where the young uns are imprisoned."

Skipper nodded. "Right, marm. I know the place myself. In fact, I'm sure I could find it. That big oak, it's a whole pile o' caves an' passages under the roots."

Granvy interrupted. "It's the hideout which the vermin call Althier--but really it's the old Corim headquarters that was known originally as Brockhall."

Marjoram sipped some cold mint tea. "Then I take it you intend attacking the place to free the young uns. But what about the Sable Quean and the beast called Zwilt?"

Buckler shrugged. "It doesn't look like they'll be payin' us a visit today but that doesn't mean they won't show up, marm. Maybe they're on their way here right now, though somehow I doubt it. Anyhow, if they don't show up by midday tomorrow, it ain't likely that they will. But the Abbey must still be defended, or at least, seem to be defended."

The Abbess put aside her tea. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Skipper winked at Marjoram. "Let me explain, marm. Just after midday tomorrow, Buck an' Diggs are goin' to slip out o' Redwall. With them'll be the Log a Log an' all the Guosim fighters. They've laid their plans for a surprise attack on Althier, an' if'n it all goes well, the rest o' the young uns will be back at our Abbey afore long."

Marjoram looked slightly perplexed. "But doesn't that leave us short of defence here?"

Now it was Diggs's turn to speak. "Not at all, dear

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marm, for I have worked out an absolutely spiffin' wheeze. Haha an' hoho, leave it to clever old Subaltern Meliton Gubthorpe Digglethwaite, the super tactician, an' be not alarmed, O Superior Mother of this Abbey!"

Marjoram turned appealingly to anybeast within earshot. "What in the name of all seasons is he talking about?"

Diggs was about to reply when his attention was distracted by the delivery of more food to the lunch table. With an adroit move, he commandeered a platter of rhubarb and apple crumble. This allowed Oakheart Witherspyk to take the floor.

Sweeping off his floppy hat, the portly hedgehog made an elaborate bow. "Allow me, Abbess. The defence force will be made up of my goodself, Skipper, Bartij, Sister Fumbril and such Redwallers and members of my troupe as are required. Not a lot, you may say, an' rather few warriors. But what will win the day for us? Why, subterfuge, illusion and trickery, what else? Look up to the west wall threshold. Tell me, what do you see?"

Marjoram stared up at the wall. "Three tall, cloaked figures armed with spears. Where did they come from?"

One of the tall figures swept back the surrounding cloak, shouting down to Oakheart, "Well, what d'ye think, Pa?"

It was young Rambuculus, holding up a window pole on which the cloak and hood were propped.

Oakheart called to him, "That's the style, you young scamp, but hold the spear higher and tell Trajidia not to start declaiming to unseen foebeasts."

Trajidia emerged from another hooded cloak. She stamped a footpaw moodily upon the parapet. "Oh, Father, I'll get no acting experience at all just standing here like this pole I'm holding. I can sound really fearsome, y'know--listen to this."

She waved the spear, which was, in reality, a hoe with a carrot stuck on top. "Begone, vile vermin! Back, back, to the shadow of your dark lairs, ere ye provoke the wrath of a warrior hogmaid and bring calamity upon yourselves!"

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Oakheart clapped a paw to his brow. "No, no, my precious. Your voice is far too shrill an' ladylike. Try muttering it under your breath, fiercely, and in a gruff register."

Turning back to Marjoram, he reassured her, "Drull Hogwife has a double closet full of old habit cloaks, all hooded. Subterfuge, y'see, marm. We can make it appear as though the walltops are bristling with defenders, all well armed. A load of squinty vermin won't know the difference. An' we can bellow out orders, march back'n'forth, do a lot of stampin', salutin' an' commandin'. Well, what d'ye say, Marj, my old friend?"

Marjoram sighed. "It just might do at that, Oakie. If a couple of hundred Ravager beasts turn up outside our walls, I hope it does, for all our sakes!"

Granvy patted Marjoram's paw. "It'll work, don't worry. We won't just be yelling and rattling spears about. I'm working with Foremole and his crew. We're making some big ballistas to hurl stones and all manner of missiles. That should keep any invaders busy, right, Darbee?"

The Foremole nodded solemnly. "Ho urr, marm, us'n's wull give 'em billy oh, an' chuck gurt bowlders on they'm vurmint skulls, hurr aye!"

Somehow, the stolid mole's logic seemed to comfort Marjoram. She smiled briefly.

"So be it, then."

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20

Down in the depths of the escape tunnel, two lanterns reflected weakly as they flickered over the dark water, which stretched away as far as the eye could see. Tura hitched the mousebabe Diggla higher on her back as she waded in. The squirrelmaid shuddered. "Phwaah! It's freezin' cold!"

Jinty dipped her paw in, then leapt back. "I don't like this. Can't we go back an' see what it's like the other way?"

Trying to set an example, Midda splashed boldly into the water. "Oh, it ain't too bad once yore in here!"

Jiddle stood alongside his sister, loath to go in. "Maybe Jinty's right. Mightn't the other way be better?"

Midda turned on both Witherspyk hogs. "Listen, you two. I don't like this any more'n you do. But this is the way we chose, so this is the w7ay we're goin', see? Now, come on, get yore paws wet!"

Jiddle and Jinty still did not make a move. Jinty commented, "I wish Flandor was here. He was an otter. They're used to water an' things like that. He could've gone ahead to see how far it stretches."

Tura was in over her waist now. She backed her friend up. "Midda's right. We've got t'go on. If'n ye turn back, it's just losin' valuable time. Besides, you'd prob'ly walk

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slap bang into the vermin. I'll wager they've found how we escaped, an' it won't take 'em too long to unblock the hole. Come on!"

Both hogs hesitated reluctantly at the water's edge.

Midda became furious, wading back toward them, yelling, "Go on, just think of yoreselves. Forget these little uns that we're tryin' to save. Look, either you make a move right now, or me'n Tura will double up our loads with those babes yore carryin'. Then you can do wot ye please. Either stay there an' moan about how scared ye are, or go back an' tell the vermin yore sorry for escapin'. Well?"

Rather shamefaced, Jiddle and Jinty waded into the water.

They pushed on into the gloom. The water got gradually deeper, until they were going on tippaws, holding their chins up. Then the tunnel took a turn. Midda had now taken the lead, with Tura slightly behind her. Two little ones were holding on to the squirrelmaid's tail, treading water, as it had become too deep for them. Suddenly Midda went under. There was a small hiss as the lantern she was carrying went down with her. Urfa the little harebabe gave a bubbling squeal.

The shrewmaid fought her way back to Tura. She was spitting water and wiping her eyes. "Here, stay where you are, mate, hold on to this babe. I've done a bit of swim-min', so I'll go ahead an' sound out how much deeper this is an' how much further we've got to go. Be back as soon as I can!"

The escape party stood neck high, shivering in the icy water as they waited for Midda's return. Diggla liked the echoing sound of his voice, so he made full use of it.