Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

Curbing his impatience, Apodemus nodded graciously. I’m sure we can find you breakfast, friend, but will you please tell me immediately where Crikulus and Malbun are?

Ovus nestled his chin into his puffy breast feathers. Thank you, Father Abbot. Now, your two Redwallers, let me tell you their location. I’d left my home south of here and gone to visit some family, in the north, you know. Can’t say why they chose there to settleÑcold, hostile country, I’ve always thought. Never really liked the north, y’know.

Curdle whispered to the Abbot, Beats round the bush a bit, don’t he?

You think he’d get on with it!

Ovus swivelled his head in the Cellarhog’s direction. Iheard that, y’know. I didn’t come here to be insulted. Huh, I think I’d be better off keeping myself to myself!

Apodemus nudged Gurdle sharply, warning him to be silent with a severe glance. I must apologise for my friend. His back is playing him up a bit, touch of rheumatism. He didn’t mean to be rude.

The tawny owl gazed down at his own enormous talons. Hmm, the rheumatiz gets us all once the young seasons are gone. Take me, now, my talons give me dreadful twinges, especially in the winter. You wouldn’t think owls would have that complaint, would you? Well, we do, let me tell you!

Apodemus gave a polite cough. Ovus blinked several times, then got on with his account.

Hmm, let me see now, ah yes. I was on my way back south from visiting family in the north, night flying, of course. It must’ve been three, no, I tell a He, two hours before dawn. I heard weeping and sobbing, southeast of here, just beyond a patch of bogland in Mossflower Woods.

Recognised the pair right away, your old Gatekeeper shrew and that woodmouse who does a bit of healing. Malbun, is it?

Gurdle was about to speak when Ovus held up a wing. I know what you’re going to ask. Let me continue. I saw it was the old shrew who was crying.

The woodmouse was unconscious, not badly injured, merely knocked out by something or other. So I had a brief chatÑI can be brief, y’knowÑwith the shrew. Told him to stay put and not to move. Said I’d fly to Redwall and get help. Well, here I am!

Apodemus heaved a sigh of relief. Many, many thanks, Ovus, many thanks!

I take it you will be so kind as to lead us to them?

The owl spread his wings as if to take off, then thought better of it and folded them again. Of course I’ll lead you to them. I can put my talon on the exact spot where they are right now. Straight after I’ve had breakfast. Oh, one other thingÑdon’t expect me to gobble my food down. I suffer from indigestion, too, y’know!

Skipper looked at the Abbot resignedly. We’d best git our mate Ovus some brekkist, Father.

Crikulus tapped his paw upon a treetrunk impatiently and judged the sun’s traverse. Where in the name o’ seasons are they? It’ll soon be midmorn. D’you think the owl has really gone back to Redwall?

Malbun sat with her back against the tree, holding a compress of herbs against her injured cheek. No reason why he shouldn’t. Ovus knows he’s sure of a meal there. I never knew the owl who could resist a bite or two at our Abbey. Relax, they’ll come for us, I’m sure.

Neither of the pair had discussed the fear and horror that had caused them to flee on the previous night. Nor did they feel that they wanted even to mention itÑthe dreadful odour, the rippling grass, the horrific feeling. It seemed like a bad dream in the broad, sunny light of day, so they avoided speaking of such things.

Crikulus rubbed his lean stomach. Breakfast at the Abbey, I could use that right now!

Malbun pressed her paw gently to the bump that had developed on the side of her head, smiling ruefully. I’m absolutely useless without my first beaker of hot mint and comfrey tea in the mornings. I’d love to have one right now, with a drop of feverfew to reduce this headache.

The ancient shrew paced up and down, guessing who would come searching for them. It’ll be Skipper for sure, with them two big young otters.

I’ll wager Log a Log an’ his Guosim shrews come, too. Malbun, d’you think I’d best take a walk and see if I can spot them coming? I won’t be long.

Malbun held up a paw for silence and craned forward, listening intently to a distant sound. No need for you to go anywhere, Crikulus, I think I hear them coming. Listen, can you hear it, too?

The old shrew could not, even though he waggled a paw in his ears to clear them. No, I can’t hear a thine yet.

Malbun relaxed and leaned back against the tree. Let’s hope they’ve brought some food with ‘em, eh.

Crikulus rubbed his paws in anticipation. I’ll give them a shout, that’ll jolly ‘em along a bit. Let them know our position, too.

Cupping both paws around his mouth, he yelled aloud, We’re over here, over heeeere! Come on, you lazy lot, over heeeeeere! Bring us some foooooooooood!

He sat down next to Malbun. As they waited, Crikulus would give out with the odd shout, Over heeeeeere! He persisted in doing this until Malbun stopped him.

Great fur’n’feathers, d’you have to bawl your face off like that? My head is really beginning to bang!

Crikulus stopped then, but he became a bit sulky. Only trying to help.

Letting them know where we are.

Aye, so ye were. Thank ye fer the ‘elp, old feller!

Three rough-looking stoats strolled out of the trees. Malbun eyed them suspiciously. Who are you?

Their leader, a lanky specimen with yellowed broken stumps of teeth, drew a curved sword from his tattered robe. Grinning nastily, he pointed the blade at them.

Never mind who we are, mousey. Who are you, an’ who’s yer noisy liddle pal? Wot are ye doin’ in our woods, eh?

Swallowing hastily, Crikulus tried not to look scared. You’ll pardon me saying so, but Mossflower Woods do not belong to anybeast. They are free to all creatures.

One of the stoats, a fatbellied beast with a marked stoop, leaned on his spear, cackling. Heeheehee, ye’ll pardon me sayin’, ain’t that nice.

Heehee, ‘ow about that, Wicky. Are yer gonna pardon ‘im, or slit ‘is throat? I’ll do the job if ye like. Heeheehee! He advanced on Crikulus with his spear held ready.

Malbun stood up and called out indignantly, Don’t you dare! We are creatures of Redwall Abbey!

The third stoat, an undersized vermin with a big single brass earring, whipped out a hatchet, leering nastily So wot’s that to us, eh? Yew shut yer mouth, or I’ll part yore ears. Where’s yore vittles an’

valuables, quick!

Crikulus bravely placed himself in front of his friend. We don’t carry valuables an’ we haven’t any food. Now leave us alone, I warn you. Some other Redwallers will be here any moment, three big otters an’ a band of Guosim shrews.

The one called Wicky shaded a paw across his eyes and leapt about, waving his sword. Otters, shrews, I don’t see any otters or shrews, d’you, mates? May’aps they’re ‘idin’ close by.

The spear carrier thought it was all very funny. Heeheehee, Redwallers comin’, otters’n’shrews. Who d’ye think yer foolin’, granpa? That’s the oldest trick in the book. Tell us where yore vittles’n’vallibles are an’ we’ll let ye go. But no fibbin’Ñfibs make us angry.

Wicky unwound a long, thin line of greased cord from under his cloak.

He made a running noose and lassoed both Crikulus and Malbun with an expert cast. In a trice they were both bound to the tree that they had their backs to.

Crikulus whispered urgently to Malbun, Where in the name of seasons have Skipper an’ Log a Log got to? What’s keeping them?

Wicky cuffed the old shrew’s ear. Shut yer gob, I’ll tell ye when to talk! Now, I’m goin’ to ask ye once more. Where’s the valuables an’