Brian Jacques - Redwall #21 - Doomwyte

As it happened, the owl in question was at that moment passing the Gatehouse doorway. With him was Brother Torilis, heading a party of Guosim shrews, who were assisting Tugga Bruster up to the Abbey Infirmary. Leaving them to go on their way, Torilis and Aluco popped in to see Dwink.

Torilis inspected the footpaw dressing, assuring his patient, “I’ve an old wheelchair which you can use to get back up to the Abbey. I’ll have it sent down, after I’ve dealt with that silly Guosim. Can you imagine it, being knocked senseless twice in one morning?”

Aluco stayed after Torilis and Bosie had left. The owl focused his huge, tawny eyes on Dwink. “Is there some way I can help you, friend?”

Having recalled his dream in full detail, Dwink related it to Aluco. Ruffling his feathers, Aluco hopped onto the bed, where he settled down fussily.

“I understand that when your warrior spirit sends a message, it is wise to heed it. So, I will gladly keep watch on the green stone which I donated to Redwall Abbey. Rest assured of that.”

Dwink returned his feathered friend’s stare. “But what d’ye make of the rest of Martin’s message?”

The owl swivelled his head, almost right around. “Well, obviously I’ll be watching for any creature who looks as if they’re envious of Redwall possessing the green jewel, but I can’t think of any immediate suspects, can you?”

“No, but I haven’t given it any serious thought yet. But the other part of Martin’s message, where he said that Redwall would gain the raven’s eye from a thief. What d’you make of that, Aluco?”

The tawny owl swivelled his head back and forth. “I would be hard put to narrow it down to a single beast, Dwink. After all, there’s a whole tribe of self-confessed thieves visiting the Abbey at this very moment. The Gonfelins!”

Dwink scratched his bushy tail as he mused, “Of course it’s hard to choose from a whole band of the rascals, they’re all so proud of being thieves.”

Both creatures sat in silence for a moment, pondering the questions which Martin’s message had posed. Dwink felt his eyelids beginning to droop once more. Aluco took his cue from the young squirrel. The owl was quite partial to frequent naps. He ruffled his plumage, settling his beak into it. Peace and quiet reigned in the Gatehouse as it fell into deep noontide shadow.

It was however, short-lived. Dwink and Aluco were roused by a racketing, rattling, whooping and shouting. Surrounded by a cloud of dust, Umfry Spikkle came stampeding into the Gatehouse, furiously pushing an ancient wheelchair, with Perrit as a passenger. He dragged it into a swerving halt, narrowly missing the bedside, laughing and shouting.

“Whoohoho! ’Ow was that, miss, fast h’enough for ye?”

The pretty squirrelmaid leapt from the chair, brushing dust from her apron. “Whew! That was faster’n I’ve ever been, yore a good chairpusher, Umfry.” She turned, smiling, to Dwink. “Brother Torilis sent us with this wheelchair, we’re to take care of you. Poor Dwink, does your footpaw hurt you a lot?”

Dwink blinked several times, then shook his head. “It doesn’t feel too bad now, thank you. Great seasons, don’t know wot Brother Torilis puts in his medicine, but it’s enough to knock out a regiment o’ badgers. He says I’ll be well by autumn, with plenty o’ rest.”

Umfry sighed dreamily. “Wish it was me, h’imagine bein’ able to rest for that long!”

Perrit giggled. “I’m glad you can’t, with the way you can snore you’d drive everybeast in the Abbey mad!”

Dwink sympathised with the huge, young hedgehog. “Is Corksnout working you hard, or have you finished tidyin’ up the cellars?”

“Oh, there h’aint much tidyin’ up left, h’I’ve almost finished the job now. Ole Corksnout gave me time h’off, t’be yore chairpusher. C’mon, Dwink, h’is there anyplace ye want me to shove ye to?”

Dwink recalled that he had not eaten that day. “I’m blinkin’ well starvin’, is afternoon tea finished yet?”

Perrit replied, “They’re having tea in the orchard whilst the weather’s fine. Look, this is a big ole chair, there’s room enough for two of us on that seat. Unless of course Umfry’s too weary to push us there.”

Flexing his paws on the chairback, Umfry assured his two friends, “Whenever vittles h’is mentioned h’I don’t feel weary h’anymore. C’mon, you two, let’s go for tea.”

“What about Aluco?” Perrit looked toward the owl as he opened his huge eyes.

“I will make my own way at my own pace, thank you.” As the owl settled back to sleep Dwink was out of bed and seated with Perrit in the ancient wheelchair.

Umfry justified the squirrelmaid’s judgement of him as a good chairpusher. Putting all his considerable force into the task, the big, young hedgehog whizzed them across the lawns with lightning speed.

They skirted the apple and pear trees, rattling and clattering into the orchard, amidst raucous cheers from the Dibbuns. Panting for breath, Umfry called to Friar Skurpul, “Three more for tea h’if ye please!”

Sister Violet served them, loading plates with plum tart, almond slice, honeyed nutbread and fresh fruit. She topped up their beakers with dandelion and burdock cordial, chilled from the cellars. As they ate, Dwink related what Martin the Warrior had said in his dream.

Perrit lowered her voice, trying to contain her excitement. “Listen, Umfry, if you’re still working in the cellars, you’ll have to investigate that door again, give it a good looking over.”

Dwink nodded his agreement. “Aye, I’ll wager there’s more clues to be found. Maybe a riddle, or some secret writing!”

Umfry muttered in embarrassment, “Er, that might be a problem, mates. Y’see h’I ain’t much good h’at readin’. Words just look like squiggles t’me.”

Perrit patted Umfry’s hefty paw. “Don’t worry, I’ll come with you, I’m a good reader, always have been since Abbey School.”

Dwink looked from one to the other. “Pardon me askin’, but wot about me?”

Perrit stifled a giggle. “You can come, too. That’s if you can go charging down a full flight of stairs in a wheelchair….” She saw the doleful look on Dwink’s face and regretted what she had said. “I’m sorry, mate, but that contraption wasn’t built for stairs an’ steps. It looks like you’ll have to wait at the top of the stairs. I’ll take some parchment an’ charcoal down there, if there’s anything to record you’ll be the first to see it.”

Dwink was getting painful little twinges in his footpaw. He scratched at the bandaged poultice, which Brother Torilis had bound on. “Righto, when is all this supposed to be happenin’?”

Perrit rubbed her paws gleefully. “As soon as we’ve had tea, no sense wasting time.”

Brother Torilis approached, opening his satchel. “Best let me take a look at the footpaw, young un. Is it paining you?”

The young squirrel sighed. “Aye, ’tis a bit, Brother.” He whispered to Umfry and Perrit, “You two go an’ look at the door. Leave me here, but come straight back if there’s anythin’ to report.”

Brother Torilis had Skipper lift Dwink from the wheelchair to a blanket spread on the ground. Seeing Dwink was in some discomfort, the good Brother administered more of his potion. Dwink began to feel drowsy again. Meanwhile, the Dibbuns commandeered the wheelchair, calling to the Laird Bosie eagerly.

“Us wanna ride, Mista Bosie, cummon, you be a pusher!”

Demolishing a sizeable portion of fruit pudding and meadowcream, the lanky hare obliged good-naturedly. “Right, mah bonnies, all aboard an’ hauld tight. Och, but dinnae blame me if’n mah speed affrights ye.” With four Abbeybabes sitting in the seat, and four more perched in various positions, Bosie took off like an arrow from a bow, yelling, “Awaaaaay Bowlayneeeee!”