Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

"Hah, there's woodworm in that log paddlin' faster'n you lot!"

"Ho, is there now, cheekychops? You'll soon be eatin' our spray from behind, matey!"

"Gurr, doan't ee strain you'mselfs, zurrs. Jus' ee stop in us'n's wake, naow!"

"Wake, is it? We thought ye were asleep, hohoho!"

"Scallywag, I'll bend my paddle o'er yore 'ead fer that!"

"Tut tut, me ole messmate, you'll 'ave to catch us first! Give 'em vinegar, Kubbashow 'em the ole double-stroke!"

"Come on, sah, wield that paddle as if it were your sword, wot!"

Kubba's booming shout rang out over the sunflecked waters.

"Ship yore paddles, stop that fuss,

Let the stream work carryin' us!"

Everybeast stowed paddles, allowing the boats to skim elegantly along on the silent current.

Brocktree leaned back, breathing heavily. "Whew! We must have covered a day's distance in half a morn there. What d'you say, Ruff?"

"Aye, we made the fishes look as if'n they was stannin' still."

Dotti flopped down upon the prow, wiping spray from her ears. "By the left an' by jingo, I'm kerfoozled! What about you?"

Gurth's smile split his dark-furred features almost in half. "Uz floo loik burds, miz. Et wurr wunnerful!"

The remainder of that memorable day on the stream passed in similar fashion, sometimes racing, other times cruising, with banter, shanties and good comradeship prevailing over all. In the late afternoon Grenn passed on orders to make landfall at a recognized Guosim camping spot, a shallow sunlit cove. They waded in the clear water, stretching and getting the feel of paws on solid ground again. A few of the younger shrews went deeper for a swim. Gurth watched the cooks setting up their fire and digging out supplies and cauldrons. The kindly mole gave their rations a quick look over before having a word with Dotti.

"Gurth says you lot can have the evenin' off," the haremaid announced to the delighted shrewcooks. "He'll be chef today. You chaps are in for a treatmy molepal's going to make gurt tunnel stew, followed by preserved apple'n'plum pudden with sweet chestnut sauce. How does that sound, wot?"

The cooks patted Gurth's back and hugged him thankfully. Then in the true manner of shrews they hung about, observing him at work, offering advice and criticism and arguing among themselves.

"You needs to peel those turnips thinner. Don't waste any."

"Pay no 'eed to that'n, Gurth. You peel 'em 'ow you like, but I'd roll me pastry wider if I was you."

"Rubbish. The mole's rolled it too wide as it is, can't y'see!"

"That cauldron'll boil over if'n you don't watch it!"

"Shows 'ow much you know, sniggletail. A watched cauldron never boils, that's wot my mum alius said!"

"Yore doin' that dried fruit all wrong, Gurth. 'Ere, let me show yer 'ow 'tis done!"

Dotti had a quick word with Lord Brocktree, who soon settled the argument. Drawing his great battle blade, he sliced a dead limb from an old willow with one mighty stroke.

"Some wood for your fire, Gurth. Oh, while I've got my sword out, d'you want me to stop any shrews from interfering with your cooking? I could whack off a few tails, eh?"

By the time Gurth turned to answer the shrews had fled. "Thankee, zurr Brock. They'm surpintly muddlin' argifyin' likkle h'aminals. Oi never see'd ought like urn!"

Log a Log Grenn approached Dotti, Ruff and Brocktree and pointed downstream. "I was going to take a stroll along the bank. We have to cross a ford before we reach the river tomorrowjust thought I'd best check t'see if the ford level is high enough to sail over. If not we'll have to carry the boats along the bankside. Would ye like to take a walk with me, friends?"

Brocktree sheathed the sword upon his broad back. "Be with you in a moment, marm. I want to check on Skittles. D'you know I've not seen hide nor hair of that rascal since morn?"

Ruff pointed out a group of young shrews frolicking in the stream, Skittles splashing and giggling with them. "There's the rogue. He's been with that gang all day, travelin' up front in the lead boat with Grenn."

The shrew Chieftain turned her eyes to the sky. "I always make the young 'uns sit in my boat so I can keep an eye on 'em. But seasons o' vinegar, I've never had to cope with one like that Skittleshe's more trouble than a barrel o' beetles!"

The Badger Lord smiled and shook his head. "Aye, he is that. As soon as I mentioned getting a wash this morning he vanished like smoke. Look at him now, playing in the stream like a little fish. I couldn't get him near water for the life of me. Come on, let's get going before he notices us."

They padded silently off down the bank. Before they had got around the bend, however, the hogbabe sprang out of the water in front of them, a wicked grin on his face. He scrambled up onto the badger's back, seating himself on the sword hilt before anybeast could stop him.

"Heeheehee, finked you was goin' off wivout Skikkles, eh?"

Brocktree turned his head, growling in the hogbabe's face. "Be off with you, pestilence!"

Skittles tweaked the badger's nose impudently. "See, I nice'n'cleaned now, B'ock. I come wiv ya, mate!"

Lord Brocktree turned his face to the front, smiling hugely, though his voice was gruff and stern. "Huh, I suppose you'll have to, seeing as you're up there, but sit still and no nonsense out of you, sir!"

Skittles saluted. "An' no nonsinks outta you, sir, or I chop you tail off wivva yore sword. Chop!"

It was a pleasant walk in the warm evening. Dragonflies hovered over the stream, hunting for midges and mayflies, pepper saxifrage and yellow-cupped silverweed grew in profusion close to the stiller edges. Noon had turned to early evening gold, with pink and cream cloudbanks massed prettily to the south. Log a Log Grenn halted them in sight of the ford.

"You can glimpse the river not far from here, friends. Stay well on the banks, now. If the water's deep enough on the ford our boats should pass over it with no trouble. I'll have to test it with a stick, so keep well on land. The waters hereabouts have streamwolves aplenty huntin' in 'em, an' they hide themselves well, so 'tis best to take care."

On reaching the ford, Grenn demonstrated what she meant by tossing a few crusts she had brought along into the water. Four long pike shot out of the reed cover and fought each other viciously for the food.

"Wowow! Where a they corned from, B'ock?"

Brocktree glanced back at the startled hogbabe on his shoulder. "Streamwolves lie in wait for food, then they pounce! Just like the one Ruff saved you from in the watermeadows."

While the pike were busy, Grenn poked a stick into the ford. '"Tis deep enoughour craft should pass over safely. Though I wouldn't trail my paws in there if I was you, Skittles. Look, further down the bank, you can see the river where it meets the stream."

Dotti skipped down the bank apiece. "I say, chaps, cranberriesscads of 'em growin' down here!"

Dainty pink flowers with curling petals stood swaying on wispy thin-leafed stalks; beneath them the small orange-hued berries grew in profusion. They were sweet but sharp to the taste. The friends gathered in the welcome addition to their supplies, sampling the fruit as they picked.

"Mmm, nice'n'tasty, marm. I wager Gurth an' yore cooks could make a batch or two o' cranberry tarts with these!"

Dotti chided the juice-stained hogbabe. "Steady on, Skittles, you'll make y'self ill if you scoff too many. Don't be greedy, now!"

Lord Brocktree raised an eyebrow at Ruff. "That's the best one I've heard for a whilea hare telling another creature not to eat too much. Wonders never cease!"

Dotti overheard the remark, and turned primly on the badger. "Manners don't cost anythin', y'know. My mater always said enough was as good as a feast, sah. Merely advisin' the little tyke... Skittles, come back here, you rip!"