Brian Jacques - Redwall #21 - Doomwyte

but to go on many a day.

When you sit at the board, then rest assured,

you’ll be most wonderfied.

Yore mouth’ll water, you’ll lick yore lips,

an’ yore eyes’ll pop open wide.

‘The feast! The feast!’ all goodbeasts cry,

‘Just look at those vittles, oh me oh my!’

I’d sing you a ballad about this salad,

but that’d slow my pace,

now cut that cake, for goodness sake,

I’m dyin’ to feed my face.

There’s fruit an’ bread, or cheese instead,

there’s soup served by the pail,

ye can wash it down with Strawb’rry Fizz,

or rich October Ale.

There’s pasties an’ pies, ’tis no surprise,

there’s puddens an’ trifles galore,

an’ meadowcream, like a buttery stream,

o’er crumble or flan to pour.

Choose cordial or wine, it all tastes fine,

so come on, one an’ all,

we’re goin’ to attend a feast, my friend,

at the Abbey of Redwaaaaaaallll!”

Dwink had sung it so loud and fast that he ended up puffing for breath. When the surrounding applause was done, Spingo shot him a look of mock disappointment. “Don’t they ’ave porridge? I like porridge.” There was a moment’s pause, then the friends broke into laughter. Nokko winked at Bosie.

“She’s a maid an’ a half, that un!”

Apart from the Painted Ones, the marchers were in high good spirits. Redwallers, Gonfelins and Guosim chatted together, laughing and singing. Tugga Bruster was, of course, the exception. Sullen and ill-tempered, he went out of his way to find fault with everybeast. Tala, mate of the slain Chieftain, Chigid, knew the Guosim Log a Log was avoiding her vengeful stare, so she began taunting him.

“Looka me, spikeymouse, I watcha alla time. First chance Tala gets, she killya. Oh yes, I creep up, all quiet, an’ make worm meat of ye. Don’t turn ya back, don’t sleep, keep watch ’til Tala killya!”

Tugga Bruster began shaking with rage, gripping his iron club even tighter and panting rapidly.

Skipper tapped his shoulder, issuing a warning. “Don’t even think of attackin’ a captive, matey, or it’ll be the last thing ye ever do. Unnerstand?”

The Guosim Log a Log blustered, lying loudly, “I wasn’t thinkin’ of attackin’ nobeast, except that son o’ mine. Huh, dashin’ off without his father’s permission. No manners at all, these young uns!”

Bisky had overheard the exchange. He murmured to Dwink and Umfry, “If Dubble isn’t at Redwall by the time we arrive there, we’ll have t’go an’ search for him.”

Spingo stated flatly, “Aye, an’ I’ll be comin’ with ye, mate. But tell that ould Friarbeast t’save me lotsa feast grub, for when we gets back.”

Umfry chortled. “Hoho, there’s no h’arguin’ with ’er, looks like yore h’included, miz!”

Night had fallen by the time they reached Redwall. Bosie pounded on the main gate. “Open up, will ye, ’tis the Laird o’ Bowlaynee, with a braw company o’ friends, an’ many a rascally prisoner!”

Foremole Gullub Gurrpaw, who had been Gatekeeper that day, emerged from the Gatehouse, shaking his velvety head. “You’m must’ve smelled ee supper, zurr, they’m just settin’ daown to et in Gurt Hall. Coom ee in!”

Everybeast trooped in expectantly. Abbot Glisam, who had been taking a pre-supper stroll, came hobbling over with the aid of a yew stick. The old dormouse straightened up slowly.

“Ooh, this back o’ mine feels twice as old as me. Welcome back, friends, supper’ll soon be on the table. Is everybeast safe and accounted for? Laird Bosie, who are all these vermin you have roped together?”

Drawing the sword of Martin, Bosie pointed with a flourish. “Och, allow me tae present the Unpainted Ones, Father, we had tae clean ’em up a wee bit. Ah’ll dispose of ’em on the morrow, meanwhile we need a place tae keep ’em locked up safe.”

The Abbot stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Let me see…. Ah, the Belltower, it’s built separate from the main Abbey. They can sit on the floor, and up the stairs. Top window there’s far too high for anybeast to jump from. The belltower should be fine!”

Corksnout Spikkle volunteered to guard the captives. He ushered them into the tower, standing sentry over the single door, armed with his huge bung mallet. Corksnout issued stern commands. “Find somewheres to lay down or sit, an’ not a peep out of anybeast. Oh, an’ just let me hear one ding out o’ those two bells, an’ ye’ll find out just wot this mallet’s for, when it ain’t bein’ used on bungs!”

Nokko stared admiringly at the huge Cellarhog. “Now if’n I was a Painty One, there’s a beast I wouldn’t mess wid. Dat big ’ammer of his makes a sambag look like a baby’s toy!”

It was a strange experience for the Gonfelins, seeing inside Redwall Abbey. They had all heard of it, both in story and song, but for long generations no Gonfelin mouse had been inside the hallowed building. Their curiosity, however, was soon dismissed when they were introduced to their first Abbey supper.

Coveting a huge bowl of salad, a wedge of cheese and a fresh-baked farl, Bosie viewed them with awe, whilst repelling one or two of the raggedy mice from his own portion. “Och, will ye no’ look at the wee terrors, Ah’ve never seen beasts shovin’ vittles doon like that! Yowch! Away, ye fiend, that wee rascal bit mah paw!”

Glisam was being introduced to his new guests. Nokko shook the Father Abbot’s paw cordially. “Me name’s Nokko, Pike’ead of all Gonfelins, pleased t’meet ye, Abbo, sir!”

Bisky had to explain that all Gonfelin names ended with an o. Glisam smiled.

“Abbo, eh, I like it. Well, friend Nokko, allow me to present Brother Torilo, Friar Skurpo and our owl, Aluco.”

The tawny owl bowed. “Actually, my name really is Aluco, so I could be considered as a Gonfelin, in an honorary sort of way.”

Bosie raised his nose from the salad bowl. “Ah’m no bothered what ye call anybeast, as long as ye don’t refer tae me as Bozo!”

Nokko spotted Bosie’s one-string fiddle, the bow of which he also used for firing short metal rods. The Gonfelin inspected it, enquiring, “Is this thing a figgle, can ya play it?”

Amused by Nokko’s mispronunciation, the hare nodded. “Aye, ’tis a fiddle right enough, an’ Ah can play it. Do ye play the fiddle yersel’, Chief Nokko?”

Shaking his head, Nokko passed the instrument to Gobbo, adding, “No, I never learnt to figgle, but Gobbo can. Hah, it’s the only thing he’s useful for. Cummon now, Gobbo, me ould son, play the figgle an’ sing for yer supper, as a thank-ye to the Abbo.”

Gobbo twanged the string once. Satisfied with the tone, he sang the quickest ditty that any Redwaller had ever heard.

“Wot’s in a name, a Gonfelin name,

would ye really like to know?

Now just you wait an’ I’ll tell ye, mate,

they all ends with o …oooooh, there’s

Robbo an’ Dobbo an’ Bumbo an’ Bobbo, an’

Gobbo of course, that’s me.

There’s Glibbo an’ Fibbo, an’ Nokko, too,

our great Pike’ead is he.

There’s Slumbo an’ Tumbo an’ Jimbo an’ Jumbo,

an’ Filgo, now that’s me ma,

so I’ve gotta mention Nokko agin,

’cos he’s me blinkin’ da.

We don’t end in a b you know,

all Gonf’lins end in oooooooooooooooh!”

Amidst the general laughter and applause, Skipper Rorgus called out to the Gonfelin leader, “Ahoy, mate, I don’t mind bein’ called Rorgo, in fact, ye can call me wot y’want, long as ye don’t call me late for vittles!”

Nokko responded cheerfully to the Otter Chieftain, “I agree with ye there, bucko, these Redwall Abbey vikkles are the finest anybeast could sit down to, ain’t never tasted scran so great. Wot do yer say, mates?”