Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

Cellarmole Gurjee and Axtel Sturnclaw met them at the north wallgate. As they piled in, Buckler locked the gate behind them.

"Anything to report here?"

Axtel'o eyes were still blood-tinged from the berserk fury. He was limping about in circles as he touched his snout in a brief salute. "Oi h'accounted furr three o' they vurmints, zurr. Ee fourth un throwed hisself frum ee wall-top an' perished without offerin' a foight. Oi'm h'awaitin' further orders, zurr, thankee koindly!"

Jango glanced up at the twilight sky. "Best git yoreself up atop o'er the gate. There'll be battle aplenty for ye there soon!"

Buckler bounded onto the north wallsteps. "Right, mates, no time to waste now!"

367

Some of the defenders had wrapped damp cloths about their faces to counteract the black smoke billowing up from the ditch. The ram was blazing; the flames had taken hold. From down below there was silence--not a Ravager could be seen anywhere.

Trajidia Witherspyk lowered her face cover, trilling, "Hoorah! Victory is ours. The rascally foe have been routed! Rejoice, brave friends, rejoice!"

Oakheart fixed her with a withering glance. "Cease your foolish prattle, daughter dear. Well, my comrades in arms, what think ye?"

Skipper watched the dark, oily smoke clouding the setting sun. "I don't like it. Somethin's goin' on."

Jango nodded agreement. "Aye, they ain't just upped stakes an' left. They'll be back, y'can be sure. But when?"

Axtel gave an experienced warrior's opinion. "When ee doan't bees 'spectin' et, zurr, that's when."

Buckler paced back and forth, framed in the last rays of daylight. "Right, sir, it'll be sometime durin' the night. Vilaya will try to catch us nappin'. So we must be alert an' on guard all through the darkness."

Abbess Marjoram came up on the walkway. "Is everything under control? How are we doing?"

Skipper saluted with his javelin. "We've beaten 'em off once, marm, an' we're fit'n'ready for any vermin wot wants a second try. No need for ye to worry, marm."

Marjoram smiled warmly at the Otter Chieftain. "Why would I ever worry, with such brave warriors to keep my Abbey safe? I just came to tell you that Friar Soogum and his helpers will be arriving soon with supper."

Oakheart patted his rumbling paunch. "Kind of ye t'be so considerate, friend Marj. We could all manage a bite or two. It's been a long, weary day, an' the night will be far more tiresome, I suspect."

The Abbess tapped Buckler's paw. "I think perhaps you'd better come to the Infirmary. I'd like you to look in on Mister Diggs."

368

Buckler gave the matter some brief thought before replying, "Er, much as I'd like to, marm, I rather think my place is up here--in case of trouble, y'see. I'm sure Diggs would agree if he were here, marm."

Skipper gave the hare's shoulder a nudge. "Go on with ye, Buck. If'n anythin' breaks, we'll let ye know loud'n'clear. Right, mate?"

Axtel winked at Buckler. "Roight, zurr. Us'll raise a gurt showt that'd be hurd ten leagues off'n. You'm go an' see ee friend Diggsy!"

As Marjoram and Buckler passed through Great Hall, a song that was almost a dirge echoed out. It gave the Abbess a start. "Good grief. What's that?"

Buckler knew. He pointed out Clarinna, who was seated in a corner beside the body of Zwilt the Shade. She had a bowl of water, with which she was cleaning the blade of Martin's sword whilst singing the dirge to the slain enemy.

Buckler explained this to Marjoram. "Clarinna could not properly grieve the murder of her mate, my brother Clerun, until his killer was punished. It's an old Salamandastron custom."

Pausing, they listened to the eerie sound. Clarinna carried on singing, oblivious to their presence.

"Sleep now, my love, rest quietly in peace, the cost of thy blood now is paid, for I with mine own paw, fulfilled the warriors' law, exacting vengeance with this shining blade.

Thy son and daughter, too, who'll grow not knowing you,

I'll tell them that you dwell by tranquil streams, amidst the silent trees, mid fields of memories, mayhaps sometimes you'll visit them in dreams.

Sleep now, sleep now, my love, sleep on, for time will dry all tears and ease the pain, now justice has been done, sleep on, my love, sleep on, until the day when we shall meet again."

369

As they mounted the stairs, Buckler observed, "Clarinna won't recover properly until her babes are back with her. They're happy enough for the moment with Mumzy the old water vole, thanks to Ambrevina and Diggs. How's the old rascal doing, marm?"

Marjoram led the way up to the Infirmary. "See for yourself. Sister Fumbril has taken care of that dreadful head wound he took, but at the moment, he's drifting in and out of consciousness."

Diggs lay very still on his sickbay bed, his head swathed in a turban of herb salves and bandages. Buckler stood staring at his friend as he spoke to Sister Fumbril. "How's he doing, Sister?"

The jolly otter healer shook her head dubiously. "There's no way of knowin', sir, he's been like that since he was carried up here. It was a terrible wound, a stroke of a big sword, I think. He's lost an ear an' been scarred for life. I'm waitin' on him t'wake up, but he ain't respondin'."

Buckler eyed a table laden with food of all sorts. "Bring that table closer, Abbess. I've never known the tubby fraud to sleep through any mealtimes. Let me try."

Seating himself by the bed, Buckler started into the delicious repast, commenting loudly, "Mmmm, hazelnut'n'apple bake with arrowroot sauce. I wonder, should I save some for old Diggs? No, he never saved any for me back in the Long Patrol mess. Hello, what's this? Mushroom, leek and gravy pasty! I say, Diggs, d'you fancy a bite o' this? It's yore favourite. Yummy still nice'n'hot, too!"

Diggs groaned. Opening one eye, he glanced quizzically at Buckler and said in a voice like an old officer, "Wot... wot? An' who are you, sirrah? Speak up!"

Buckler smiled. 'C'mon, you great fat fraud. It's me, Buckler, your mate!"

Diggs opened the other eye, staring scornfully at his lifelong companion. "Buckler, eh? Bit of an odd handle for a chap. 'Fraid I've never had the pleasure of meetin' ye. An' who in the name of snits'n'scuts is Diggs, eh?"

370

Buckler poured himself a beaker of October Ale. "Diggs is you, y'great lardsack, that's yore name!"

Diggs snorted. "Piffle'n'balderdash, laddie buck. I'm Colonel Crockley Sputherington--known as Sputhers t'my friends, but you ain't no chum of mine, sah, so show a bit of bloomin' respect to a superior officer, wot, wot!" His friend held out a slice of the pastie.

"Oh, right y'are, Colonel, sah. How about tryin' a bit of this scoff? It's very good, y'know."

Diggs wrinkled his nose. "Take it away, this very instant, y'greedy buffoon. It looks disgustin'!"

Buckler appealed to Sister Fumbril. "It ain't like him to refuse vittles. What should I do?"

The cheerful otter shrugged. "Be thankful he's still alive, I suppose. I'd try humourin' him, if'n I was you."

Diggs glared at the Sister--he was outraged. "Humour y'self, y'great grinnin' planktail. One more word an' I'll have ye slapped on a fizzer for gross insolence, marm! Now, take y'self jolly well off, go on! An' take this gluttonous oaf with ye. Aye, an' all this mess y'call vittles. The very sight of it makes me ill!"

Deciding to take Fumbril's tip, Buckler stood to attention, throwing the patient a stiff salute. "Right y'are, Colonel Crockley Sputherington, sah. Come on now, marm. Let's shift all this stuff an' let the good officer get a spot of shut-eye. He must be tired."

Any further discussion was cut short by a thunderous war cry from out in the grounds. "Redwaaaaaaalllll! Red-waaaaaallll!"

Buckler hurtled from the Infirmary, calling to Sister Fumbril, "That's it, the attack! I'm needed on the walltops, they've made their move!"