Brian Jacques - Loamhedge

Toran ran back to the Abbey, shouting, “That ’un today’ll look like afternoon tea to the feast I’ll make ye when ye return, I promise!”

They watched him go inside, then walked to the south wall gable and struck off southeast into Mossflower.

15

Horty stood at the dormitory window, watching as Toran returned and assisted Old Phredd in closing the main gate. Both beasts then headed for the orchard and what remained of the Summer Feast. The young hare turned to his two companions, who were sprawling about on their beds.

“Well, chaps, Toran’s back an’ the gate’s closed, wot! That means those two aging relics have finally gone off on the quest. Is everything ready, you blighters?”

Springald leaned over and pulled three bulging sacks from under her bed. “These are going to take some carrying!”

Horty scoffed. “Pish an’ tush, m’gel, one can’t have enough tuck. It’s vital, mark m’words, bally vital!”

Fenna gathered their walking staffs and three travelling cloaks from the wall closet. “But how do we get out of the Abbey without being spotted? It won’t be dark for hours yet. Huh, you’d think Bragoon and Saro would’ve waited until dawn tomorrow.”

Horty sat down on his bed, ruminating. “Hmm, you’ve got a jolly good point there. I’ll have to think up a cunning plan. Spring, pass me one of those sacks. A chap can’t think on a blinkin’ empty tummy, wot!”

Springald kept a tight grip on the foodsacks. “Forget your confounded stomach, Horty! Get thinking, and be quick about it. We can’t sit around here until it’s dark and we’ve lost their trail.”

Horty rose and strode back to the window, muttering, “Forget one’s tum, wot? Easy for you t’say, Miss Mouse. I’m a flippin’ hare, y’know. Forgetfulness of the old stomach is bally impossible to types like me . . . Ahah, Dibbuns, the very chaps!”

Flinging the window open, Horty called down to Muggum and a crew of Abbeybabes who were cavorting on the lawn below. “What ho there, my pestilential friends!”

Shilly the squirrelbabe looked up and pointed an accusing paw. “Naughty ’orty, you been sended up t’stay inna dormitee.”

Horty stared down his nose at the little squirrel. “Let me inform you, my broom-tailed friend, I am here merely out of choice. I can come down when I flippin’ well please. Now listen closely, you little bounders. Would you like to hear a secret, wot?”

Muggum wrinkled his button nose. “Ee seekurt? Us’n’s gurtly fond o’ seekurts. Ho urr aye!”

Fenna called out in a hoarse whisper. “Horty, what are you up to? Who are you talking to?”

Waggling his ears at her, the young hare looked secretive. “I’ve just thought up a super wheeze, a plan t’get us out unnoticed, wot. Create a diversion, that’s the idea. Leave this to Hortwill Braebuck, marm!”

A hogbabe named Twiglut, having grown impatient, squeaked up at the window. “Are ya goin’ a tell uz dis seekrut? Well ’urry h’up, or we go an’ play wiv sticks!”

Horty waved his paws earnestly to gain the Dibbuns’ attention. “No no, don’t go an’ play with sticks, my tiny pincushion. I’ll tell you the secret. This mornin’ we went down to the pond, an’ guess what? We saw lots of big fishes . . .”

Muggum butted in. “Wurr they’m gurt hooj fishies, zurr?”

Horty stretched his paws wide, indicating their size. “Huge? They were blinkin’ colossal! Anyhow, they gave us rides on their backs all round the jolly old pond. Oh, it was loads o’ fun, I can tell you, absoballylutley top hole an’ all that, wot!”

The Dibbuns began dancing with excitement.

“Will ee fishies still be thurr?”

“Uz wanna ride on der fishies!”

Horty scratched his ears. “Hmm, they said they’d be there late afternoon, just before evenin’. I say, you chaps, it’s round about that time now, isn’t it?”

Roaring delightedly, the Dibbuns thundered off in the direction of the Abbey pond.

Horty called after them. “Have fun, you little savages. Tell the fishies Horty sent you!”

The realisation of what was taking place suddenly hit Springald. Leaping up, she hurled Horty away from the window. Cupping both paws to her mouth she yelled. “No, don’t go! Come back this instant, all of you, come back!”

But the Dibbuns could not hear because of the din they were setting up. Like a small stampede, they ran out of sight around the Abbey corner.

Springald turned on Horty. “You blathering fool, what have you done? Idiot!”

Horty flapped his ears airily. “Creatin’ a small diversion. No need to get your fur in an uproar, old thing, wot?”

Fenna’s tail went stiff as Horty’s foolish act dawned on her. “You puddenbrain! Can’t you see that those babes will be drowned if there isn’t anybeast responsible to watch over them?”

The young hare slapped a paw to his brow. “Oh corks, you’re right! I never gave that a flippin’ thought.” Leaning wide out of the window, he bellowed, “I say, little chaps, come back this very instant. D’ye hear?”

“Dearie me, what’s all the shouting about?”

Horty found himself staring down into the questioning face of Brother Gelf, who was returning some bowls to the kitchen when he heard the commotion.

Fenna pushed past Horty, her voice shrill with anxiety. “Hurry, Brother, the Dibbuns are down at the pond alone. There’s nobeast with them. Oh hurry, please!”

The mouse sped off as fast as his paws would carry him.

In a trice, the bells of Redwall were tolling out an alarm. Creatures could be seen hurrying toward the pond. Toran was out in front, shedding his apron as he ran and plunging straight into the water. Luckily, none of the Dibbuns was harmed. Most of them were garnered from the shallows by willing paws, though Toran had to swim for Muggum. The molebabe was well out of his depth, floating about like a ball of downy fur. Foremole Dwurl’s resounding bass tone could be heard, calling to the Abbot, as he panted up, pushing Martha’s chair.

“They’m awright, zurr h’Abbot, oanly ee bit wetted!”

Horty was shaking all over as he turned to his friends and laughed with relief. “No harm done, chaps. At least my diversion worked, wot?”

Springald and Fenna leapt upon him, boxing his ears and kicking his bottom. They were furious.

“No thanks to you and your bright ideas!”

“You great waffling flannel-brained nincompoop!”

Horty broke loose and seized the travelling gear. “What’s done is done. Sorry, chaps, an’ all that. We’d better make ourselves scarce. Let’s go while the goin’s good!”

Sister Setiva was towelling the babes dry with Toran’s apron and her shawl; others were helping, using anything that came to paw. The shrewnurse railed on at the Dibbuns, alternately drying and hugging each one.

“Och, why wid ye want tae do sich a silly thing, mah babbies? Have ye no been told aboot playin’ alone by the water, eh?”

Under the stern eyes of Abbot Carrul, Martha and a dripping wet Toran, the whole story emerged. Martha could scarcely believe her ears when she heard that it was her brother who had encouraged the little Dibbuns. Seething with righteous wrath, she turned to Toran.

“Mr. Widegirth, would you kindly push me up to the Abbey? I wish to have some severe words with that brother of mine!”

The ottercook bowed politely. “Certainly, Miz Braebuck. I’m shore there’s one or two wants words with Master Horty, one of ’em bein’ me!”

A procession of Redwallers followed Martha into the Abbey. The Dibbuns were enjoying the affair hugely, seeing some other beast getting blamed for their escapade. They tagged along, muttering darkly of tail chopping and bottom-skelping punishments. Some were even speculating that Horty would be boiled in a soup pan.