Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

Apodemus inspected the object, holding it near to the firelight. It was bright yellow metal, a thick oblong band, smooth to the touch. On either curve of the oblong a jet black stone twinkled. Sculpted at the centre of the band was a curious inset design.

The good Father Abbot passed the stone on to Crikulus. I can’t make head nor tail of it. You take a look, old one.

Nodding his head, the ancient shrew Gatekeeper spoke. Hmm,’tis a pawring, meant to fit over the broadest partof somebeast’s paw. Very nicely crafted too, from the finest gold. You see these two black stones? They are true jet, rare precious gems. But as for the markings on it, I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea what they mean.

Ruggum and Bikkle were sufficiently recovered to sit up. They looked at their elders sheepishly. Hurr, zurrs, we’m gotten losted.

Bikkle nodded vigorous agreement, then decided to blame Memm and Skipper.

She pointed an accusing paw at them. Youse locked d’gate on us, we was shutted out. Us knock an’ knock, but nobeast’ear us. So we go for a walk inna woodses.

The Harenurse muttered under her breath. Locked’em out? Fibbin’ little wretches, wot wot!

Foremole Urrm, the traditional leader of all Redwall moles, came trundling in. Urrm had brought supper for the runaways. Yurr, oi saved ee summ workleberry pud-den an’ a beaker of strawbee corjul apiece.

Tho’ you’m b’aint deservin’ of et. You’m a roight pair o’ scallywag-gers, hurr aye!

The Dibbuns hugged Foremole Urrm, then set about eating like ravenous beasts.

Apodemus whispered to the Foremole. Baby Bikkle is a dreadful liar, we won’t get the truth out of her. See if you can coax Ruggum to tell you what happened.

Urrm wrinkled his jolly face as he winked both eyes at the Abbot. You’m leave et to oi, zurr. Oi’ll foind out ee trooth!

Dibbuns liked and trusted the Foremole, and Urrm soon had the molebabe telling all. Licking pudding from his wooden spoon, Ruggum related his story:

Yurr now, let oi think. Ho yuss, we’m was losted in ee furrest, summwhurrs east norf south. Et wurr a comen on to rain, us’n’s run round an’ round looken furr shelter. Ee skoi went all darkened an’ wind blowed an’ rain failed. Et wurr tumble, zurr, jus’ tumble! H’all of ee sudding we foinded a gurt h’oak tree, burr ay, wi’ a likkle door in et. So uzz opinged ee dor an’ getted in owt ee rainwet.

As if not wanting to explain further, the molebabe went silent and began licking his pudding bowl out. Foremole Urrm took the bowl from him and shoved the pawring under Ruggum’s nose.

Tell ee zurr H’Abbot’ow ee gotted this yurr h’object.

Ruggum babbled out a veritable deluge of words. Oi failed down ee gurt’ole wi’ stairs on et an’ grabbed ee h’objeck. Thurr wurr ee gurt monister surrpint an’ ee snowy whoite giant, oi runned away vurry farst afore they eated oi! Ruggum threw himself facedown on the blanket, wrapping it round his head, an indication that he would speak no more to anybeast.

Foremole Urrm took Bikkle upon his lap. Yurr, ee’m a silly ole feller, bain’t ee. You’m a gudd choild, tell oi abowt ee likkle door in ee h’oak tree.

Bikkle dipped her paw in the strawberrry cordial and did a scrawl upon the floor near the hearth. Me fink dat was writted onna door.

The squirrelbabe’s markings were hard to decipher. B o k a I. The gaps in between the letters were filled in with Bikkle’s fanciful swirls.

Urrm studied it, scratching his chin.

Lukks loike ee wurm wriggle to oi.

Malbun, however, grew quite excited. She turned to Crikulus. Can you see what it looks like?

The ancient shrew peered at it and shrugged. I’m afraid not. Should I know?

Without replying, Malbun took a charred twig from the hearth and wrote underneath Bikkle’s attempt the word Brockhall. She compared the word to the letters the Dibbun had made.

See, there’s the B, an o, a k, an a and one of the I’s. It’s Brockhall, sure as the fur on your face, they’ve found Brockhall!

Memm Flackery busied herself wrapping both Dibbuns in their blankets, ready to be carried up to the dormitories. What’n the name of my aunt’s pinafore is Brockhall, wot?

Malbun explained patiently. Brockhall was once the home of badgers, but it was used by Redwallers before the Abbey was ever built. It was so long ago that the exact location of the place has been lost. Crikulus and I read of it in some old gatehouse records. We’ve been researching it, trying to find out more about Brockhall. It’s a vitally important part of our Abbey’s early history. Now the Dibbuns have stumbled upon it purely by accident. Who knows what we might find inside that ancient place?

Memm twitched her long ears fussily. Indeed. Great monster serpents an’ snowy white giants, if Ruggum’s to be believed, wot?

Foremole Urrm brandished the jet-studded gold pawring. Hurr, an’ gurt wunnerful treasures loike this’n, may’ap!

All eyes were fixed on the pawring. It glinted in the firelight.

Gooch the squirrelcook gave voice to what they were all thinking. A store of’idden jewels’n’gold.’Twould be a treasure hunt!

Sister Vernal, normally a shy, austere mouse, leapt up, crying, A treasure hunt! That’s for me! When do we start?

7

The ketch Stopdog plowed her way merrily northward, westering a slight touch. Kroova, having shown Sagax the rudiments of tiller, ropes and sail, was taking a nap beneath the broad seat in the bows, which served well as a tiny cabin. Like a fish to water, the young badger had taken to the seafaring life. He enjoyed the freedom of wind and wave.

Scarum turned his back upon Sagax. Sitting on the bowseat, he began rummaging in the knapsacks, muttering to himself, Nutbread an’ cheese an’ apples, wot wot. That’s the stuff t’put the twinkle in a chap’s eyes. I say, what bounder’s gone an’ scoffed all the blinkin’ apples, eh, wot?

Keeping the ketch on a level keel, Sagax answered the hare. You have, you great stomach on legs. What’re you doing rummaging in those packs again?

Scarum looked up indignantly. Doin’? What’n the name o’ perishin’

barnacles d’you think I’m doin’, eh? I’m makin’ a meal t’keep jolly old body’n’fur together. A chap can’t survive on fresh air, y’know!

Sagax stared severely at his gluttonous friend. That’ll be your fourth meal today, and it’s barely noon. Go easy on those suppliesÑthey’re all we’ve got.

Scarum held up a wedge of thick yellow cheese. Oh, right, well, I’ll just have a smidgeon of this to tide me over until dinner. Hawhaw! Tide me over, wot. Now, there’s a nautical expression for you, me ole heartie, me old seadog, me old barnacle bottom, eh, eh, hawhawhaw!

Sagax quickly lashed the tiller arm to a sailrope. Bounding for’ard, he grabbed the cheese from Scarum’s paw and dropped it back into the knapsack. Then, taking both packs, he made his way aft and stowed them under the stern seat.

You’ve eaten quite enough for one day, mate. I’ll take charge of the supplies. You can just wait until dinner this evening, like me and Kroova.

The hare glared at him and flopped his ears indignantly. You, sah, are a flippin’ grubswiper, a pirate! Huh, de-privin’ a poor young’un like me of vittles. You’ll stunt my growth. I’m warning you, if I die, it’ll be your rotten fault!

His friend chuckled. If you can stay alive until dinner, there’s hope for you. But just put one thieving paw near these rations and I’ll bite it!

Scarum scuffed the deck dolefully. Does this mean I’m goin’ to starve t’death?

The badger hardened his expression. Aye!

The hare’s mood changed in an instant. He became tough and resolute.

Grabbing a coil of rope, he declaimed aloud, Right then, so bloomin’