Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

Dymphnia allowed Jiddle and Jinty to run off and be reunited with the rest of their family. "Oh, dear, I never guessed that. I knew he'd been injured, but nobeast told me about Mister Diggs thinkin' he was some other creature. Ah, well, not to worry, Buck. I'll soon fix him."

She hurried off after her babes, not explaining how she could effect a cure for Diggs.

Fortunately, the orchard decorations had been left up, and thanks to the good efforts of Friar Soogum and his staff, a further feast was set up, waiting. When everybeast

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was gathered there, Abbess Marjoram mounted an upturned wheelbarrow.

Skipper called the chattering, laughing crowd to order. "Ahoy, mates, silence one an' all for Marjoram, Mother Abbess of Redwall. Stow the gab an' quiet, please!"

Visibly moved by the sight of the freed captive young ones, Marjoram wiped a habit sleeve across her eyes and sniffed several times before starting her speech.

"Welcome to Redwall Abbey, my friends, both old and new! You are all free to live here in peace and safety. Please treat this place as your home for as long as you wish. Now, I won't waste a beautiful and happy summer's eve with lots of boring talk. I see you are hungry and tired. Sister Fumbril, Drull Hogwife and other helpers--not forgetting our new friend, Mumzy Water Vole--will tend to the babes. They will have fine new clothes, a dormitory with soft little beds and, who knows, maybe a good bath in our Abbey pond tomorrow. But for now I want you all to enjoy the feast. Eat, drink, sing, dance and be merry. And once more welcome, twice welcome and thrice welcome to Red-wall Abbey. Let the celebrations begin!"

Everybeast tucked in with a will. The appetite of the newly arrived young ones was so hearty that Friar Soogum stood wide-eyed.

"Goodness me, I'll have to get extra supplies from the kitchens if they carry on at this rate!"

Drull Hogwife shook her head in wonderment. "I thought those liddle uns was wearied out an' more'n ready to sleep. Good grief, lookit them eat!"

Tura lifted her smudged face from a bowl of blackberry sponge in arrowroot sauce. "Beggin' y'pardon, marm, but if'n you'd never seen vittles like this, wot'd you sooner do, eat or sleep?"

Smiling at the squirrelmaid's logic, Skipper filled himself a bowl of his favourite shrimp'n'hotroot soup. "Well said, missy, they can always sleep later. Ahoy, Colonel, d'ye want to try a bowlful o' this?"

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Diggs had not touched food thus far. He had been wandering about the orchard, chunnering to himself. Curling a lip at the Otter Chieftain, he snapped, "Doesn't anybeast think of anythin' but stuffin' one's flippin' face? A disgustin' exhibition, sah! Those young uns should be abed now, catchin' up on their shuteye, wot, wot? Well, alls I can say is that they'd better be up bright'n'early on the morrow. Ho, yes, I want t'see them all on parade, ready for a long route march! I'll lick 'em into shape, sah, see if I don't!"

Cellarmole Gurjee objected strongly. "You'mTl do nuthin' of ee sort, zurr. They'm likkle uns needs carin' furr!"

Dymphnia Witherspyk did not seem in agreement with Gurjee. "Oh, tut tut, sir. I'm sure a good long march'll do the babes a power o' good. Ain't that right, Oakie?"

Putting aside a hefty fruitcake, Oakheart nodded. "Quite right, m'dear! Oh, Colonel, might I have a private word with ye, a whisper in your good ear, sir?"

The Colonel strutted over to where Oakheart was sitting. Leaning down, he bent his unbandaged ear at the florid hog. "Whisper on, sah. What d'ye jolly well want?"

With a chunk of the cake clutched in one paw, Oakheart swung out, catching the hare a stunning blow to the back of his head. Colonel Crockley Sputherington fell to the grass, knocked out cold.

There was an immediate uproar. Buckler ran at Oakheart, his paws clenched. "What'n the name o' blood'n'vinegar did y'do that for?"

Trajidia wailed, "Oh, Father, what a cowardly thing to do, striking down a poor beast in such a sly manner!"

Oakheart merely grinned, consulting his wife's opinion. "How was that, m'dear? Did I do it right?"

Dymphnia clutched his fruitcake-filled paw. "Couldn't have done it better myself, Oakie. You hit him right on the button, just as I did to you, darling!"

The Abbess hurried forward with a pail of cold water and a cloth. "Will somebeast pray tell me what's going on?"

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Dymphnia obliged willingly. "My Oakie once struck his head on the tiller of our raft, knocked himself clean out. When he came to, he thought he was an owl. Egbert Whootfellow, we had to call him. We put up with him for six days, sitting perched on top of the mast making owl noises. In the end, I could stand it no longer. So, I climbed the mast when he was asleep one night and shoved him off. He wasn't really an owl, you see, couldn't fly. Fell to the deck headfirst, knocked out again. Would you believe it, when he came around again he was Oakheart Witherspyk once more. I think it was the second knock to his head that cured him."

Abbess Marjoram rolled up her habit sleeves. "Right, let's see, shall we?"

Whoosh! She emptied the bucket of cold water over the head of the senseless hare. He sat up groaning. Wiping water from his eyes, he swiftly viewed the splendid feast, then launched into a tirade.

"Yah, you rotten bunch o' cads, helpin' your bally selves to all this bloomin' tuck while I was asleep! I hope your scringey tails wither an' drop off!"

Buckler threw a paw about his friend. "Diggs, is it really you?"

Wrenching himself loose, his companion began heaping a plate with all he could lay his paws on. "Of course it's me, ye great blitherin' oaf! Who did ye think it was, a duck with a top hat on? Call y'selves friends, wot! Rotten, the whole bunch of you are, lowly bounders'n'cads. What a slimy trick t'pull on a starvin' young subaltern. I'll never speak to you again, never! Specially you, Buck Kordyne!"

Without warning, his mood changed. He smiled. "I say, that summer salad looks jolly nice. Mind passin' me a goodly portion, Buck old lad, wot?"

Everybeast laughed, cheering at the transformation. Diggs was Diggs once again, gluttonous as ever.

The feast continued until dawnlight, when lots of young ones fell fast asleep where they sat, bowls and spoons still

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in paw. Mumzy, Sister Fumbril and other dedicated helpers began carrying the babes off to their dormitories. Ambrevina wandered by, laden with four young creatures. She nodded to Buckler. "I think Clarinna would like a word with you. She's over in Great Hall."

Dawn rays were shafting through the tall windows, tinted by the stained glass. Buckler found Clarinna sitting by the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. He sat down beside her.

"Are Calla and Urfa both asleep now?"

Clarinna nodded upward. "Tucked up in the dormitory, bless them. Here, Buckler, these are for you." She placed the great broadsword and the coin medallion in front of him. Buckler sat staring at them awhile, then pushed them back to her.

"These are my poor brother Clerun's birthright. By family tradition, they belong to Calla, his eldest son."

Clarinna shook her head. "I and my little ones won't be returning to Salamandastron. It's my wish that they grow up here, with me at Redwall Abbey. I don't want to see them being raised under a Badger Lord, joining the Long Patrol and learning warriors' ways of war, regiments and weapons. Redwall is a place of peace, gentleness and wisdom."

She hung the medallion around Buckler's neck. "You must wear this. You have always been the true Blademaster. Clerun was a farmer at heart."

Buckler touched the bright gold emblem. "But it was you who slew Zwilt the Shade. You were the brave one, Clarinna."

She pointed to the figure of Martin the Warrior. "No, it was he who did it, really. Martin bade me to take his sword. After that, I remember nothing, only seeing the sable lying dead in front of me. I think Martin would not allow that evil beast to murder a babe in his Abbey. Nor would he see a bravebeast like you sacrifice his life to save that babe."