Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

Some of the older creatures were panting hard, so Skipper’s two ottercrew mates and the Guosim shrews gallantly lent helping paws to speed them on to the safety of the path. Now the crows were on their trail, their raucous cawing echoing louder as they approached. Curdle Sprink slowed his pace, allowing Skipper to catch up with him.

The Cellarhog glanced over his shoulder, puffing and panting. Can’t go on much further, Skip. You go on, I’ll stay’ere an’ make a stand for us. Should’old em off awhile.

Skipper shoved an end of his javelin into the hedgehog’s paws. No such thing, mate. Who’d be left t’brew good ale an’ cordials for the Abbey?

See, there’s the path up yonder. Grab ahold of this javelin with me, we’ll run together!

Ruggum reached over and patted Gurdle’s spiked head. Yurr, coom on, zurr, us’n’s won’t leaven ee behoind!

Log a Log was first onto the path. He shouted to his shrews as they hurried out of the woodlands, Grab some stones, Guosim, we’ll show those scurvy scum!

More Redwallers poured out onto the open path, as they took the shrew’s advice and gathered pawfuls of rough stones. A big crow was flying up behind Skipper, homing in on the back of Ruggum’s neck, when a stone struck it square on the beak. Other crows found themselves pelted with a lively salvo of large pebbles and chunks of rock.

Skipper was last, but finally he made it to the path. Lifting Ruggum down, he picked up stones and began whizzing them off at the angry crows with amazing accuracy, chuckling wolfishly. Haharr, buckoes, come an’

chew on some o’ this!

But the crows would not leave the tree cover, knowing they would be at a disadvantage on open ground. They took to the branches, hopping awkwardly about and cawing harsh disapproval of their would-be quarry’s tactics.

Old Crikulus was a surprisingly good rock thrower. He knocked a crow clean out of its tree with his first try. You great filthy cowards, how d’ye like some of your own medicine, eh, eh? Here, try this’n for size!

The unexpected retaliation was too much for the crows, and they quickly retreated back into the safety of the woods. Skipper hooked his rudder under Ruggum’s smock cord, hauling him back as the molebabe went to chase after the crows with a rock he could scarcely carry.

Cease fire, me ole mate, we’ve sent’em packin’.

Ruggum rolled his rock off among the trees and dusted his paws. He shouted after the distantly cawing birds.

Yurr, an’ doant ee cum back or oi’ll give ee billyoh, you’m gurt villyun rarscals!

The remainder of the journey was uneventful. Skipper and his party reached the Abbey in time for afternoon tea. Abbot Apodemus opened the gates for them.

Great seasons, you lot look as if you’ve been through some sort of adventure. What happened, my friends, tell me?

Skipper made his report as they strolled across the lawns to the Abbey.

The Father Abbot reflected on the story. No treasures found todayÑbut some lessons learnt. Ah well, no great harm done. You’re all back safe and sound, just in time for afternoon tea, I might add.

Sister Vernal smiled eagerly, for teatime was her special favourite.

Oh good, blackberry cream tarts!

Apodemus shook his head woefully as they entered the Abbey. Please, sister, don’t even mention blackberry cream tarts to me. They’ll haunt my dreams for seasons to come.

Malbun stifled a smile. What happened? Did something go wrong with the Dibbuns’ tart baking?

The Abbot was still shaking his head with despair. Did anything go right?

It was the Dab organisation, you remember: Dibbuns Against Bedtime.

On some pretext or other they got Memm and Foremole out of the kitchens, then the rascals ran back and bolted themselves in. Come and see.

When they arrived at the kitchens the door was off its hinges. Gooch the cook and his assistant, Furrel, were sorting through a selection of damaged tools they had borrowed from the wine cellars to unscrew the door hinges.

Gurdle Sprink clapped his paw to his brow. Oh corks, is that my best bungspike? Looks more like a confounded corkscrew!

Memm Flackery emerged from the kitchens, spattered from ears to tail with blackberry preserve and meadow-cream. Steady on, old lad. Don’t blame poor Gooch,’twas me who borrowed your gear.’Fraid we had to, wot!

Those little cads locked us out! We had to break back in, or the jolly old kitchens would’ve never been the same again!

Crikulus peered in at the chaos that had been caused. Hmm, looks like they took to decoratin’ the place with flour, preserve an’ cream. Where are the Dibbuns now?

Foremole Urrm wiped flour from his snout. Oi got’em all locked oop in ee veggible store, zurr. Tukk moi loife in moi paws doin’ et. They’m was fierce h’infants!

Skipper called on his two ottercrew to support him as guards. Right, shipmates, let’s parade these fierce h’infants out an’ see wot they got to say for’emselves!

Some of the Dibbuns were so coated with baking ingredients that they were unrecognisable. Malbun pointed to one, who looked like he could be a mole.

You there, stand up straight and take your paws out of that apron pocket.

What’s your name? Speak up!

The Dibbun licked cream from his chin. Oi’m Roobil, marm.

Friar Gooch pointed accusingly at him. Roobil, that’s him. He was the ringleader!

Malbun Grimp stared at the line of bespattered babes. You know where you are going now, don’t you?

A small voice murmured regretfully, H’up to bed, marm.

Memm eyed Roobil. Tell him he’s jolly well wrong. Explain to him where you wretches are going first, wot wot wot?

Roobil scuffed a footpaw across the floor, leaving a smear of blackberry preserve as he did. Burr, straight in ee barff oi apposes.

The Harenurse waggled a paw under his snout. Correct, sah, straight into the blinkin’ bath, an’ one whimper out of anybeast an’ I’ll bathe you twice!

Sister Vernal lectured the miscreants severely. Look at you, look at these kitchens! Shame on you. Rogues! Right, it’s bath, bed and no supper for the lot of you!

Roobil rubbed his small but bulging stomach ruefully. Us’n’s couldn’t manage no more vikkles to be eaten, marm.

Friar Gooch stamped a paw on the floor. Don’t dare talk back, you dreadful Dibbuns. You should be ashamed o’ yoreselves. Away with you and get bathed. That’s unless you have anything to add, Father Abbot?

Apodemus used his sternest tone. I’ll see you all in Great Hall tomorrow before breakfast. That’s when I’ll decide what must be done. You’re all on Abbot’s Report!

The Dibbuns exchanged shocked glances as they were led off, dumbstruck: Abbot’s Report was a very serious matter.

It was only when they were safely out of earshot that Skipper broke down laughing. Aharrharrharr! Did y’see the liddle faces on’em, harr harr!

Memm Flackery sniffed at the otter’s remark. I fail t’see anythin’ funny at all, sah!

The Abbot tried hard to keep a straight face, but failed. That Roobil, hahaha! We could’ve stood him on the table as an ornament at a feast.

Hohoho! I’ve never seen anybeast with that much preserve and cream on him. He, hahaha, he looked like a little statue!

Suddenly they were all laughing, even Memm. Hawhawhaw! That mousebabe Turfee, he will turn into a bloomin’ statue if all that flour’n’water dries on him, wot!

Everybeast had forgotten about Ruggum and Bikkle, who were still present.

Both were quite peeved at having missed all the fun.

Ruggum viewed the matter sternly. Hurr, they’m surr-pintly vurry naughty beasts. If’n oi wurr ee, zurr h’Abbot, oi’d choppen thurr tails off, burr aye!

With a swift paw gesture the Abbot warned the others to cease their merriment.