Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

"Waaaah! Don't let 'im throw Diggla t'the pikers!"

Tura stepped quickly out into the rain. "Alright, you win. We'll start work right away. But we'll need tools--spades to dig, an' axes to chop down trees, an' sharp blades to trim 'em up with."

Triggut wiped his leaky blind eye, shaking his head until a few spikes rattled from it. "Axes, spades an' sharp blades? Hahahahaaarrr!" He bared his blackened tooth stubs viciously. "Triggut Frap might well be mad, but he ain't plain daft!"

Jiddle, who had not spoken until now, shrugged. "Well, sir, how d'ye expect us to build this house of yours without any tools to do the job?"

Triggut answered flatly, leaving no room for argument. "Yew kin dig with y'paws. Yew've got paws, haven't yew? An' there's plenty o' fallen trees on this island without havin' to chop any down. Anythin' else yew need, well, I'm sure yew can think of a way to get it done. After all, yews are the bright young uns with brains. Me, I'm only a pore crazybeast. Go on now, get to it, afore I decide t'go fishin' for big, wild, starvin' pikefish. They'll rip anythin' to bits, even a nice liddle mousey like this un. Hahaha ooo hahaarrr!"

Triggut lingered near the water's edge, stirring the surface and watching the pike rise. They had long, sinister

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greenish-brown bodies, with lime-hued spots; their ravenous jaws gaped wide in search of food. The sleek monsters gathered, waiting.

Mousebabe Diggla tugged on the rope to get as far away from the water as he could, pleading with his friends, " 'Urry h'up an' builda big 'ouse, Diggla not likes this beast. Whaw, 'e smell h'orful, pew stinky!"

Jinty saw Triggut beginning to tug on the rope, eyeing the water. She called sternly to Diggla, "You naughty liddle snip, don't talk about Mister Triggut like that. Mind your manners, please!"

It was an uneasy truce, and a very wet one, at that. On the tacit agreement that the smallest babes would be more hindrance than help, the main participants began work. With a pointed twig, Tura scratched out a rectangle on the ground. Inside of this shape, they commenced clearing grass, ferns, brush and other vegetation. They toiled away, with steam rising from their sodden coats.

After a while, Jinty complained, "Ooh, my back's killing me. I can't carry on like this--I'll have to lie down and rest."

Midda muttered gruffly to the young Witherspyk maid, "Just keep goin', mate. Try not to think of yore aches an' pains, but just imagine wot we'll do to that scabby nutbag when we get the chance. That'll help!"

Surprisingly, it did. Midda smiled inwardly, listening to the hogtwins gritting savagely in low voices as they tore out roots and stones from the muddy ground.

"I'll strangle Triggut Frap with me own paws when I get hold of the brute!"

"Aye, workin' us like slaves an' threatenin' to have our mousebabe eaten by pike. Oooh, just give me a short time an' a long stick. By thunder, I'll show him!"

Tura rubbed shoulders with the seething pair. "Not if'n I gets to him first, ye won't. I'll feed him, not Diggla, t'the pikefish, scrap by scrap!"

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Midda chuckled. "Who, that dirty, filthy ole scum? Huh, the fish'll spit him back as soon as they get a mouthful of Triggut, believe me!"

Jinty could not suppress a giggle. "Teehee, maybe that'll be our way off this island. Feed the crazy hog to the pike an' poison 'em all!"

Jiddle did a fair impression of a pike which had tasted Triggut's flesh. "Yurk! Oh, 'elp me, I'm poisoned, goin' mad an' dyin' all at the same time. Hahaha!"

Tura joined him. "Yaarggh! An' t'think we imagined he was our friend. Gurrrgh!"

Triggut Frap's harsh voice cut into their merriment. "Sharrap an' keep workin'. I don't know wot yew lot 'ave got to laugh about. Now, work, or I go fishin'!"

Saturated, mud-spattered and sore-pawed, the young captives laboured on in silence. However, Triggut could not stop them thinking their vengeful thoughts.

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BOOK FOUR The Battle of Redwall Abbey

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It was late evening before the rain ceased. Buckler, Axtel, Jango and the Guosim shrews emerged from Mossflower's dripping woodlands at the east wallgate of Redwall. Their progress had been somewhat hindered--Axtel's footpaw wound had slowed him down considerably.

Following the code of the Long Patrol, Buckler never left a wounded comrade behind. In fact, he had spent most of the march from Althier assisting the Warrior mole, whose injury had left him with a permanent limp. The worry uppermost in the young hare's mind was that Zwilt might reach the Abbey before he could. However, he felt reassured by the relative quiet and calm which surrounded Redwall.

Log a Log Jango was also relieved. "Well, at least we didn't arrive in the midst of an invasion, mate. Wonder wot happened t'the vermin?"

Buckler took a pace back, peering up at the walltop. "Here comes a sentry--we'll soon find out."

Jango shouted to the figure patrolling the battlements, "Ahoy, you, there, let us in, will ye? We're Guosim!"

It was Furm, Jango's wife, carrying a long cloak and hood propped up on an oven paddle. She peeped over the ramparts at the group below. "Is that you, Jango Bigboat?

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Well, I ain't lettin' ye in unless you've brought our little uns back with ye!"

Buckler answered sharply, "Don't fool about, marm. Redwall could be under attack at any moment. Open this wallgate on the double!"

Furm pattered speedily down the wallsteps and drew back the bolts, admitting the group.

Buckler and Jango rushed past her without a word, up the steps to the walltops, with the rest following them. Buckler rapped out orders. "Spread out along the walkways. See if ye can catch sight of the Ravagers before night falls!"

Skipper and Oakheart were on the west threshold above the main door. The Otter Chieftain noted Buckler's anxiety as he hurried up.

"Buck, wot's happened? Did ye get the babes back?"

The young hare shook his head. "Not yet, Skip, but we know that Zwilt an' his vermin are marchin' on the Abbey. Thank the seasons we arrived back ahead of them!"

Shielding his brow with a paw, he peered out into the setting sun on the western plain. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, he repeated the action. "Look out there, Skip--follow my paw. What d'ye see?"

The otter gazed keenly at the crimsoning sky and darkening horizon before speaking. "There's somebeasts there, I think. A bit far off to tell."

Oakheart Witherspyk drew an elegant crystal monocle from his belt pouch, declaring vainly, "I don't really need this, as I have perfect eyesight. However, I sometimes use it for long-distance objects. Hmm, let me see now, out there, y'say?"

Buckler continued pointing. "Aye, sir, due west."

Squinting his right eyelid around the monocle, he gazed steadily westward. Returning the monocle to his pouch, the florid hedgehog nodded gravely. "I fear you are right, sirrah. Even though they are trying to conceal themselves, there appears to be quite a number of crea

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tures out there. Whether they are vermin, alas, who can say from this distance?"

Buckler questioned Oakheart further. "About how many would you say there are?"

The Witherspyk patriarch shrugged eloquently. "Fourscore, mayhap five. I wouldn't venture to say accurately. But it seems only half the number who turned up outside our walls latterly."

Buckler nodded. "Thank you, Oakie. Oh, by the way, you haven't seen anything of Diggs yet, have you?"

Skipper shook his head. "No, mate. He ain't turned up here yet. Listen, you look tired'n'hungry, Buck. Go with Jango an' his Guosim. Get some vittles in ye an' take a breather. Go on, I'll double the guard on this wall an' keep an eye on the flatlands. If the vermin make a move, you'll be the first to know."