Brian Jacques - [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain

Groffgut gasped as his stomach was kicked hard. “I’ll tickle yer ears wid me sword if’n yer don’t shut yer big noisy gobs. Threetooth, it’s yore turn. Gerron top of their ’eads afore yer sling der rope!”

Unknown to the gang, they had been observed as soon as they left the ditch. Abbess Lycian had spotted them as she stood up to pour tea for herself and Burbee. She quickly informed Oreal Gatekeeper, who shot off to the Abbey and brought Skipper, Brink, Foremole Grudd and his entire crew up to the west wall.

They took a secret peep at the rat gang and held a whispered conference. Skipper’s initial idea was to exit the Abbey by the south wickergate, surround the rats and finish them off. The Abbess was horrified by the plan.

“But Skipper Banjon, they’re the same age as your own daughter. How could you kill such young creatures?”

“Vermin, Mother Abbess, they’re vermin!” Brink reminded her. “If you don’t kill vermin they’ll kill you, or some other innocent creatures who can’t defend themselves. Skipper’s right, marm, they’re young alright, young an’ evil!”

Abbess Lycian stole a hasty glance at the rats on the path below. She turned away quickly, biting on her habit sleeve to stifle the laughter which was threatening to burst forth. “You should take a look down there. They’ve all collapsed in a heap. One of them is kicking the others’ tails. Good gracious, what language! Can you hear it?”

Foremole Grudd shook his velvety head in disgust as he peered down at the rat gang. “They’m a-tryin’ t’stand h’on each uther’s thick ’eads agin, so’s they’m can cloimb up yurr. Boi okey, oi never see’d such bunglybeasts in all moi borned seasons!”

Skipper set his jaw grimly. “Vermin are vermin, no matter which way ye look at ’em!”

However, the Abbess was not one to back down on her principles. “Be that as it may, Skipper Banjon, I will not have them slain. They’re nought but a few scruffy young water rats. I don’t consider them to be a threat to our Abbey, or a danger to us, in their present position. As Mother Abbess of Redwall, I forbid the slaughter of those vermin!”

The Abbess blenched with fright as Skipper grabbed her roughly and pulled her to one side. It was a swift and timely act. The curved scythe blade, with its attached rope, came looping over the walltop. It would have struck Lycian had it not been for Banjon’s intervention. The rope was jerked tight from below, leaving the blade lodged firmly around the angle of a battlement.

Skipper kept his voice calm and level. “Well, marm, what do we do now?”

Loud, hoarse whispers could be heard from the rat gang as they urged their comrade on.

“Gudd t’row mate, up yer go!”

“Aye, get dat big gate h’opened, let’s see wot dey got in der!”

“Yeeheehee! An if’n der cook don’t cook gudd pies, we’ll roast ’im in ’is own h’oven!”

It was the first time any Redwaller had ever seen their Abbess bare her teeth and growl fiercely. “Kindly leave this to me, please!”

As Threetooth’s villainous head appeared over the walltop, Lycian was waiting for him. She dealt him a mighty blow with the teapot, which was still half full of hot tea. It made a peculiar sound. Punngggg! The water rat fell backward with a shocked gurgle, plummeting down onto the rats below.

Flinging the teapot at them, Lycian yelled out in a most un-Abbesslike manner, “Give ’em blood’n’vinegar! Redwaaaaaalllll!”

Skipper chortled, but the smile was quickly wiped from his face as Lycian turned to confront him. “Roast the cook in his own oven, eh? Skipper Banjon, my order against killing still stands. But you have my permission to take a party down there, armed with heavy sticks. Give those vermin the beating of their lives and send them packing!”

By this time, everybeast was leaning over the walltop to view the effect of their Abbess upon the would-be raiders.

Molemum Burbee shook her head gravely. “Ee woan’t catcher yon vurmints naow, Skip, they’m taken h’off loik arrers. Burr, an’ moi gurt teapot with ’em!”

Banjon watched the rat gang scurrying off up the ditchbed until they were swallowed up in the darkness. “Good grief, marm, you certainly fixed ’em up right’n’proper. Those vermin are drenched with ’ot tea an’ spittin’ tea leaves. Hah, I fear that’s the last ye’ve seen o’ that best teapot. I could swear it was stuck on one rat’s ’ead!”

Now that the excitement was over, Lycian collapsed into her little folding chair and gulped down what tea was left in her mug. She seemed totally overcome. “Oh dear, I can’t believe I did that! Look, Burbee, my paws are all a-tremble, I’m shaking like a leaf!”

The molemum had almost a full mug of tea, which she kindly donated to her friend. “Ho, you’m a gurt terror, marm, an’ no mistake. But oi wish’t you’m hadden’t given ee best teapot to yon villyuns. Hurr, ’twas far too noice furr ee loikes o’ they’m!”

Grudd Foremole tugged his snout politely. “Off to ee beds naow, marms. Brink’n’Skipper, too, off ee go, zurrs. Me’n moi crew’ll stan’ guard up yurr ’til ee mornen loight. Us’ll give’em owd ’arry if’n ee ratters cooms back yurr agin furr more!”

Panicked, dispirited and chastened, the rat gang did not stop running until they were well into Mossflower Woodlands. Slumped on a streambank, they panted for breath, nursing hot water scalds and spitting tea leaves.

Rashback moaned as he slopped cooling mud on his afflicted back. “Aaaaargh, wot was dat dey t’rowed over us?”

Fleddy had missed most of it. He licked a paw where a bit of the liquid had splattered. “Dunno worrit was, but it don’t tastes bad t’me.”

Obbler sniffed at his companion’s paws. “Smells nice, too, not like dat swamp we felled in. Hawhawhaw! Lookit ole Plug, ’e’s wearin’ a new ’elmet!”

Plugtail, who had been lagging behind, tottered in to join the gang. The teapot was jammed on his head at a rakish angle, the spout covering one ear and the handle sticking out above the other. The rim covered his right eye, so he could only see with the left. Showing not a vestige of sympathy for his plight, the gang laughed at his woeful pleadings as he staggered about.

“Will youse stop laughin’ an’ get dis t’ing off me ’ead?”

Bonggg! Plugtail walked sideways into a tree trunk and tripped over Groffgut’s paws. The gang leader, who was sitting with his back to the trunk, dealt him a hefty kick, snarling, “Gerritoff yerself, thick’ead! Can’t yer see I’m wounded?”

Frogeye, probing at a loose tooth he had suffered in the melee, stared over at Groffgut. “Where are yer wounded, Chief?”

Groffgut returned his stare sourly. “None of yer bizness, squinty lamp!”

Still seated with his back to the tree, the gang leader muttered savagely, “By the ’ellgates an’ bluddtubs, I’ll make dose Wallred crowd sorry dey ever messed wid me, jus’ yew wait’n’see!”

Threetooth, who had now lost every tooth he possessed, winced as he felt the enormous lump between his ears. “It wuz a mistake tryna take a place dat size. I ain’t goin’ back der no more!”

Groffgut sprang up, waving the rusty scythe blade. He chased Threetooth along the streambank. “Yew’ll go where I tell yer to, or I’ll flay yer mangy ’ide. Get back ’ere right now!”

Hoots and guffaws greeted the rearview of Groffgut as he ran after Threetooth.

“Hawhawhaw! Lookit, ’e ain’t got no tail!”

“Haharrharr! Wot ’appened t’yer ole wagger, Chief? Did yer leave it be’ind?”

“Thunderin’ tripes! I bet dat ’urted, ’e’s got even lesser’n ole Plugtail now!”

Groffgut left off chasing Threetooth. Standing with his back to some bushes, he glared hot anger at the scoffers. “One more snigger, go on, jus’ one more laugh from any of yer. Anybeast who t’inks it’s funny, say so, right now, go on!”