Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

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By midmorning the searchers were leaving Redwall Abbey with Skipper and his two stalwart otter mates acting as guards. The party was composed mainly of grownup creatures, with Ruggum and Bikkle hemmed neatly in the middle of the shrews, still protesting at being excused from their tart-baking duties. Apodemus locked the main gates behind them and climbed up to the north ramparts. He stood watching his creatures trudge away up the path until they cut off at an angle into Mossflower Wood.

The going was fair, as they kept up a leisurely pace through the woodlands.

Log a Log Groo and the Guosim shrews knew the exact location where they had found the two Dibbuns. This took a lot of guesswork out of the route.

Crikulus tramped alongside the shrew leader. D’you happen to know that old Guosim song, ÔFootlecum Durr, I think it was called? I heard one of your beasts singin’ it when you visited the Abbey last winter. I like it.

Log a Log Groo kept his eyes on the path ahead. Even if I did, I couldn’t sing it, old ‘un. I’m more of a dancer than a singer. Hoi, Burrl, you know that’n, don’t ye, ÔFootlecum Durr’? Sing it out good’n’loud for us.

Burrl was a smallish, skinny-looking shrew, but he had a voice like a foghorn. He sang out loud and clear:

Young Footlecum Durr, I do declare, Was a fanciful little shrew. With waxy grease he curled his fur An’ wore a greatcoat o’ blue. His ma was ever so fond of him, That lest his paws should bruise She made for him from aspen skin A brand-new pair of shoes.

Well, pickle my fur, I tell you, sir,

Do you believe the news?

O what to do, a Guosim shrew,

Clompin’ about in shoes!

With laces green, the best you’ve seen,

An’ silver bells each end,

He strutted here an’ swaggered there,

An’ jigged about no end

Til Footlecum took off his shoes,

An’ paddlin’ went one day.

Then a big old owl, the thievin’ fowl,

Swooped down an’ stole’em away.

So now in the night, if you wake in a fright At a strange sound in the air,

Tis only that bird that you have heard

In the shoes of Footlecum Durr.

Too whit too woo, a ding dong clomp,

He’s dancin’ round out there,

Pursued by a shrew, cryin’ out ÔHey you, They’re the shoes of Footlecum Durr!’

Ruggum thought the song was hilarious and shook Burrl’s paw. Gurtly singed, zurr. Fooklum Gurr, ee’m wurr a sillybeast!

It was sometime before midnoon when Log a Log called a halt. This is about where we found the riddle’uns. Let’s’ave lunch an’ see if’n they can tell us which ways they went from’ere to find that big ole tree with the door in it.

Malbun and Crikulus doled out barley farls, soft white cheese and flasks of pale cider. Both were glad to be rid of the extra weight they had been carrying. Skipper split his farl and packed it with cheese. Before he took a bite, he called the two Dibbuns to his side and questioned them. Well, me ole mates, d’ye know where the old oak is from’ere?

Bikkle gestured in a wide arc nonchalantly. H’east nor-fwest, or souf I fink!

Crikulus could not help wagging a stern paw at her. East northwest and south, that’s a great help. Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Ruggum, eh?

The little mole clapped his paws together and chortled. Hurr hurr, oi did loike ee song bowt Fooklum Gurr, zurr!

Malbun stroked the molebabe’s velvet-soft head. Crikulus means do you know the way to the oak tree where you and Bikkle sheltered from the storm?

Ruggum answered candidly. Oi carn’t be sayin’, marm, et wurr dark an’

gurtly rainy ee see.’Tain’t gudd furr foin-den ee way abowt in darkly rainy weathers, burr no!

Sister Vernal’s murmur was audible. They’d have been more useful in the kitchens baking tarts!

Malbun was about to say something when she was knocked suddenly backwards by a big dark bird, which had zoomed down without warning. She clutched her chin and cried out, Aargh, what was that?

Another one followed like lightning, pecking the cheese from Gurdle Sprink’s paw. He swiped at it and missed. The bird swooped away into the trees amid a chorus of harsh cawing.

Skipper roared to his two otters and the shrews, Crows, a whole gang o’ the villains! Protect those two babes, mates. I ain’t got a sling!

Anybeast carryin’ sling an’ stones with’em?

Log a Log drew his rapier, casting an eye at the treetops. The big, dark-feathered scavengers were massing in the branches, watching the Redwallers menacingly. The Guosim leader kept his voice low and spoke calmly.

My shrews never brought slings along, not that chuckin’ stones’d do much good. There’s too many of’em. It looks like we’re in real trouble, mates!

Curdle rubbed at the deep scratches on his paw. Those birds are after our vittles! lis the food they want. What d’ye think, Skip?

The otter nodded, forming a plan in his mind as he spoke. Aye, 1 think yore right, mate. We can’t stand an’ fight, they’ve got us outnumbered.

Best thing we can do is to get out of’ere safe an’ sound. Log a Log, you an’ yore shrews will be up front when we go. Keep the two Dib-buns, old Crikulus an’ Sister Vernal with ye. Malbun, Gur-dle, an’ the rest, you stay close be’ind’em. Me’n’ my two ottercrew’ll cover yore backs.

Skipper sidled casually over to where the two foodpacks were lying.

Sliding his javelin through the handles, he lifted them cautiously off the ground.

The crows began crying out with renewed harshness. Skipper warded off two of them with a swipe of his rudder. They perched boldly on a raised tree root nearby. Hopping along the high branches, the rest of the crows dropped down to lower boughs threateningly Skipper’s keen eyes flicked from side to side, assessing the situation fully. He spoke gently to his friends.

Lissen now, you start movin’ out, slowly does it. But when you’ears me shout Red wall, then go as fast as yore paws’ll carry ye. Log a Log, get out o’ the woods an’ onto the path as quick as ye can. Now, get goin’, easy-like.

As soon as the party tried to shuffle off quietly, the crows dropped even lower, cawing agitatedly Skipper distracted the birds’ attention by grabbing the food packs and laughing loudly.

Haharrhar, ye winged vermin, is this wot ye want? Fresh bread an’ good soft cheese? I wager there’s a few liddle cakes in these packs, too, let’s take a look, eh!

Loosening the straps on the two small knapsacks, he swung them in the opposite direction from the retreating Redwallers. There were cakes, some candied chestnuts, too; the whole lot, together with bread, cheese and cider flask, scattered wholesale, bouncing off treetrunks and spilling into the shrubbery. Squawking and pecking at one another, the scavenging crows fought among themselves as they pounced on the food.

Skipper threw back his head and roared,

Redwaaaaaallllll!

Stunning the birds in his path with thwacks from his javelin, he took off after the main party, who were now plunging headlong through the woodlands. Ruggum and Bikkle had not been scared since the crows’ first appearance, surrounded by big, grown-up Redwallers. They felt perfectly safe. Bikkle was swept along, two shrews holding her paws. Lifting both footpaws from the ground, she was carried onward, giggling as she dangled in the air. It was good fun. Ruggum ran on his own for a while, then stumbled and fell. Before he could be alarmed at the main body passing him by, he was swept up onto Skipper’s powerful shoulders. Grabbing the otter’s ears, the mole-babe hung on, gurgling, Hurrhurrhurr, ee bee’s a gurt game, can ee goo farster, zurr Skip?

By the sound of the crows behind him, Skipper could tell they had decimated the foodpacks. Keeping his eyes on the path ahead, he assured the incorrigible molebabe, Aye, mate, we’d best step the pace up. Those birds’ll be comin’ after us soon. Move on up there, mates, faster!