Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

sake.' "

The moles fell about, rolling on the grass with helpless merriment.

"Ahurr hurr hurr! Yon zur Gonffen, 'ee wurr a tricky un!"

"Boi 'ecky, 'ee wurr a villyun aroight, a scrumpin' 'ee gurt cake. Hohurrhurr!"

"Come on there," Saxtus called to a mole named Willyum. "What about a song from you, Willyum? You're the champion mole singer, aren't you?"

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Willyum heaved his tiny fat body up from the grass; he needed no second bidding. Smoothing down his velvety coat and polishing his nose, he clasped his huge digging paws in front of him and began singing in the traditional manner of the moles, his voice a deep rusty bass, surprising in one so small.

"Oi luvs a woodland stew, oi do; oi do loik apple

tart, An' good October ale that foams is dear unto moi

'eart. Of rabs'rry cream oi oft do dream, et makes moi

eyes to shine, Tis a fact that oi loiks anythin, when oi sets daown

to dine. O mole, mole, daown thee 'ole, doant you'm eat

none o' mine, Else oi won't get a bite to ate, when oi sets down

to diiiiiiinnnnneeee."

He bowed and kissed his paws to the company as they applauded, wrinkling his nose until his round black eyes were almost lost behind chubby cheeks.

Turning to Saxtus, Willyum returned the compliment. "Now et be thoi turn to sing a song, zurr Sackuz."

Saxtus waved his paws, blushing modestly. "No no, I'm the worst singer in the Abbey, my voice sounds like a mad owl with his beak trapped in a log."

Dandin clapped his friend upon the back. "Go on, you dusty old bookworm, you're as dry as Brother Hubert. Ah, I've got an idea! Why don't you recite us a poem? You've learned lots of them from those old books and parchments in the gatehouse. Go on, Saxtus. Have a go!"

Saxtus remained seated, he shuffled and coughed nervously.

"Oh, all right, if you really must, but I'm not too good at this sort of thing. Right, here goes. This is a

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rhyme I found on a scroll in the gatehouse some seasons ago, I'm not sure what it means, but I like the words." Saxtus summoned up his courage and began reciting.

"The wind's icy breath o'er the land of death

Tells a tale of the yet to come.

'Cross the heaving waves which mark ships' graves

Lies an island known to some,

Where seas pound loud and rocks stand proud

And blood flows free as water,

To the far northwest, which knows no rest,

Came a father and his daughter.

The mind was numb, and the heart struck dumb,

When the night seas took the child,

Hurled to her fate, by a son of Hellgate,

The dark one called The Wild.

You whom they seek, though you do not speak,

The legend is yet to be born;

One day you will sing over stones that are red,

In the misty summer dawn."

An eerie silence had fallen over the young creatures sitting beneath the oak in the sunlit midday grounds of the Abbey. Saxtus fidgeted with embarrassment as they stared at him. Treerose, the pretty squirrel, was the first to break the silence.

"Well, that was a silly, nasty little rhyme. I didn't like it one bit there's no story and no point to it. What a load of old mumbo jumbo!"

She shot off up the trunk of the oak, showering them with leaves and twigs as she did. To break the mood Dandin began applauding loudly.

"Hurray! Well done, Saxtus. Very good!"

The others joined in until they were interrupted by Mother Mellus.

"Come on, young 'uns. Bring any of those Dibbuns you can find along with you. Lunchtime! Come on, it's being served in the orchardturnip 'n' mushroom flan

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with beetroot and scallions, followed by honeysuckle sauce and acorn dumplings. And I want to see clean paws before anybeast gets served!"

As they washed their paws in a rain barrel by the Abbey's south wall, Dandin questioned Saxtus.

"Where in the name of fur did you learn that poem? It was very strange."

"Told you, didn't I. It was on some dusty old scroll in the gatehouse. I read it when Brother Hubert dozed off, now the confounded thing seems to have burnt itself into my memory."

Blind Simeon joined the friends, dipping his paws into the butt with them.

"Yes, some things have a habit of doing that, don't they? Still, who knows, they may come in useful through the seasons to come. I'd be glad I remembered it, if I were you, young Saxtus."

"Would you, Brother?"

"I certainly would. There is much knowledge in ancient writings. Actually, I was standing near the oak when you recited it. You were right, the words do have a certain ring to them. Oh, and Dandin, would you like something to remember also?"

"Yes please, Brother Simeon. What is it?"

"Remember to leave some of those acorn dumplings for us old ones. We can't make it to table as fast as you young 'uns."

Dandin smiled as he winked at Saxtus. "Come on then, Brother. Hold our paws. We'll lead you round to lunch and you'll get as much as anybeastwe'll see to it."

The two young friends led the blind herbalist off to the orchard, astounded by his perception of their movements.

"Dandin, why did you wink at Saxtus when you said you would take me to lunch?"

"I meant nothing, Brother. Why do you ask?"

"Because I remember a similar wink passing between

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those two little otter villains Bagg and Runn, when they said they would assist me in to supper. I ended up in the dusty old gatehouse while they dashed off and scoffed up all the oat muffins with clover butter. But you wouldn't do a thing like that to me, would you?"

This time it was Saxtus who winked at Dandin.

"We couldn't, Brother. You're holding our paws far too tight!"

00

Earlier that same morn the Darkqueen had nosed her bows into Terramort cove. As Ledder gave the order, a double-fluked anchor splashed into the clear water. Saltar the Corsair came ashore with his crew. They were fully armed, but relaxed by the sight of the empty cove. The searats were still wading through the shallows to the shingled beach when the rocks in front of them came alive with a hundred of Gabool's fighters, armed with long spears and cross-hilted pikes. Saltar cursed beneath his breath, but showed no alarm. Standing with his crew, knee-deep in the shallows, he faced the bristling pikes boldly.

"Bilgerats! What's all this about? Where's Gabool?"

Blaggtail, the leader of the shore party shrugged. "In Fort Bladegirt. He said you're to come up."

Ledder waded up level with Saltar, drawing his scimitar. "And what if we choose not to?"

Blaggtail waved his pike twice in the air. Fifty archers stood up in the rocks above his head, each one with a shaft notched to his taut bowstring.

"Gabool said to tell you he only wishes to be hospitable."

The sound of Darkqueen's anchor being hauled up caused Saltar to turn around. His worst suspicions were confirmed the ship was drifting gently out into open water. Graypatch and five score grinning searats lined the decks.

"Don't worry, shipmate," he called out to Saltar in a mocking voice. "She'll come to no harm. We'll take her

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for a sail around the bay, while you're jawin' an' chat-tin' with Gabool."

Ledder made as if to hurl his sword at the sneering Graypatch, but Saltar muttered in his ear, "Stow it, mate. Leave this to me."

Saltar strode up the beach, pushing Blaggtail's pike to one side as he went.

"Come on, let's go and see what his High Lordship wants."

The banqueting hall tables were piled high with food and drink. Gabool threw himself down in his throne at the head of the biggest table. He was wearing no sword and smiling expansively.

"Hey, you seascum, here comes the best Captain in me fleet and his brave crew. Sit down, Saltar old messmate, and you, me favorite waverobbers, pull some chairs up and fill those bellies. Only the best for the best."