Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

Straight from the bathtubs, a horde of Dibbuns in clean smocks came dashing in to claim their favourite places at table. Memm, Sister Vernal, and Malbun shepherded them in, issuing cautions as they tried to keep order.

Don’t run! What’ve you been told about running, eh? Walk nice and slowly now. That includes you, Turfee!

I say, go around the table, you little rip, don’t you dare try to climb over the Father Abbot!

Come here, Toobles; there’s still soap in your ears. Gotcha!

The tiny hedgehog squealed outrageously as Malbun cleaned out the soap with her apron corner. Waaah! I bein’ slayed,’elp me!

Old Crikulus the Gatekeeper covered both ears and closed his eyes tightly, until peace was restored and the Dibbuns seated. Abbot Apodemus rose from his chair to recite a grace.

Be thankful for the season, And happy for the day, Be grateful for the bounty, Which comes to us this way. Good food from the earth is grown, And brought unto our table, By honest toil and labour, Let’s eat, whilst we are able!

The silence was broken by Turfee the mousebabe, banging his spoon upon the table and roaring, Where are me pudden?

Gurdle Sprink glared severely at the rowdy Dibbun for a moment. Then he called out, Aye, where’s that child’s pudden? Bring it right away!

Amid hoots of laughter the puddings were served.

Halfway through the meal, Skipper of otters was pouring out dandelion cordial for some of the little ones, when he glanced around and scratched his rudder.

Where’s liddle Ruggum an’ Bikkle, anybeast seen’em? Sister Vernal looked at Memm. I can’t recall bathing them, can you, Memm?

Not really I say, Malbun old thing, did you scrub those two rascals, wot?

Malbun tapped a paw against her chin thoughtfully. No, marm, but I recall we had two clean smocks left over when we dressed the Dibbuns. J just thought they were extras.

The Abbot addressed the other Dibbuns, who were spooning in whortleberry pudding and swigging cordial as if they had survived a seven-season famine.

Did any of you see Ruggum or Bikkle this evening?

Foremole murmured into the Abbot’s ear, No use ar-skin’ they’m h’infants, they’m busy h’eatin’ puddens.

Memm Flackery chuckled drily. Indeed they are, old scout. You’d get more sense out o’ the puddens than those ravenous scoundrels. Just look at’em eat!

Gooch and Furrel went and took a quick look around the kitchens. The two missing Dibbuns were nowhere to be seen.

Old Crikulus shrugged his narrow shoulders. They’ve prob’ly pinched a couple of puddens for themselves and gone off to eat’em without gettin’

bathed first.

Apodemus was inclined to agree with him. That’s right, they’ll turn up sooner or later. I wager they’re snoozing in some quiet corner. If anybeast should find them, I’d be grateful if you’d bring them both up to my room. I intend to have a severe word or two with the master Rug-gum and miss Bikkle!

Out in Mossflower Woods darkness had descended. Moonshadows and shifting breezes created an eerie pattern through the leafy tree canopy.

Somewhere an owl hooted and a nightjar’s churring staccato rent the woodlands. Ruggum and Bikkle huddled together in the shelter of a fallen beech tree. Both were cold, hungry and frightened little creatures.

Yurr Bikk, oi’m a thinken et bee’s toime t’go’ome. Bikkle was of the same mind as her molefriend. Me wanna go’ome too, but Memm be shoutin’

at us an’ send us to beds wiv no puddens. Me still wanna go’ome, though.

Yurr, then us’ns go roight now, and you be knowen ee way, Bikk?

I not know. You said you knowed.

Hoo urr, you’m gurt fibber, oi never said oi knowed ee way.

They sat looking at one another, then chorused aloud, Waaaaaah, we’s lost!

3

Nightdark waves lapped softly upon the western shores, like a black velvet cloak, endlessly unfolding. A full hon-eydipped moon shed its light over the scene below, softening the rugged formation of the mountain fortress known as Salamandastron. Four creatures, two badgers and two hares, leaned on a smooth, wide windowledge, about halfway up the mountain. Watching the activity of two young creatures below, they conversed in hushed tones.

Lord Hightor, the great badger ruler, heaved a sigh of resignation.

Oh well, if he’s got to go, then I suppose’tis inevitable. Maybe out there Sagaxus will learn a bit of sense. I can’t take much more of that young rip. It’s probably all for the best. If he stays here disobeying me, we’re bound to meet head-on before long. I still have my doubts about it, though!

Hightor’s wife, the Lady Merola, stroked his paw soothingly. It didn’t do you much harm when you ran off for a few seasons as a young badger, you told me so yourself. Two male badgers on the same mountain,’twould never work, even I can see that. Poor Sagaxus, he’s a born rebel. I can’t help worrying about him, he’s got a lot of hard lessons to learn out there. I do hope he’ll be all right.

Colonel Whippscut of the Long Patrol was a hare of the old school.

Twirling his waxed moustached whiskers, he puffed out his medal-clad chest and murmured confidently, All right, m’Lady, h’rumph! Why shouldn’t they be jolly well all right, wot wot? Your son an’ my son leavin’ home for a bloomin’ good adventure or two, do’em a bit o’ good, I say. Keep the blighters out of our fur for a while. D’you know, it’s flippin’ hard t’tell who’s the worst rascal between’em, young Sagaxus or that Bescarum o’ mine. Rogues! Rogues’n’ bounders, the pair of’em!

H’rumph, they won’t come t’much harm, believe me.

The Colonel’s wife, Dunfreda, interrupted him sharply. I should say they won’t come t’much harm, Whippy,’cos you’ll be out there followinem.

Every pawstep of the way!

The Colonel looked slightly deflated. He began blustering, I say, steady on there, old gel. Me, followin’ those two rips for a couple o’ seasons?

What d’you think I am, a bloomin’ stalkin’ duck? H’rumph! Out o’ the question, I’m afraid. I’ve got my command to attend to here, wot wot?

That did it. Dunfreda whipped out a small kerchief and commenced weeping inconsolably. Whoohoohoo, you heartless hare, waaaaah, my poor little Bescarum an’ Merola’s only son, wanderin’ round the world willy-nilly like two homeless waifs. Whoohoowahaaah!

Whippscut raised his eyes in despair, apologising to Lord Hightor, as Lady Merola comforted Dunfreda. Beg pardon, sah, the good lady wife can’t resist a jolly good blubber now’n’again, wot. Here y’are, old gel, take my kerchief. That’n won’t be enough t’stop the tide comin’

in, wot!

Lord Hightor placed a paw about his friend’s shoulders. Dunfreda’s right, you’d best follow them. Keep an eye on that pair. It’ll only be for a season or two, but it will put all our minds at rest. I’ll look after the mountain.

Colonel Whippscut was flabbergasted. Wot, wot, wot? Harrrumph! Y-y-you don’t really mean that.

O’ course he means it, you waxy whiskered clot. Go on, follow the two poor dears, right now, this very instant. Go!

Hightor peered out of the window at Sagaxus and Bescarum on the beach far below. Both were starting to head north, carrying massive backpacks of food, purloined from Salamandastron’s kitchens. The Badger Lord could not resist a chuckle.

Look at that lot they’re carrying,’tis enough to keep a regiment going for a full season. No need to hurry, Whipp-scut. At the rate they’re travelling, you’ll pick up their trail quite easily after breakfast tomorrow morning. Huh, that’s if they’ve left enough vittles in the kitchens for the cooks to make a meal.

Bescarum tried to set the pack more evenly between his shoulderblades, grunting with exertion. Wait f’me, Sagax old lad. Me blinkin’ paws are sinkin’ in the sand with this confounded heavy pack!