Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

Abbot Hubert slipped Mariel a clean kerchief and stood in front of her as she scrubbed at her eyes.

"Splendid idea, Tarquin. A good sensible talk never hurt any creature. Come on, we'll all go together. Many heads are better than one."

The gatehouse proved far too dusty and cramped, so they sat on the low steps in the shade of the west rampart. The Abbot ordered lunch to be sent out to them, with cold mint and rose cordial.

Mother Mellus folded her paws. "Now, where exactly do you plan on going?"

"Terramort Isle." Mariel's answer was loud and clear.

"Do you know how to get there, or where it is?"

"No, but don't worry, I'll find it myself."

Simeon chuckled. "As the blind squirrel said, reaching for a cloud."

Mariel bristled. "What does that mean, that I'm stupid!"

"Don't be silly," Tarquin interrupted. "Oh, haha, I say, 'scuse me. Lunch, chaps. Here comes lunch!"

As they sat eating, the Abbot gave Mariel a friendly wink. "Simeon didn't mean anything. All he said really was that you need help. I think the first thing to do is to find out where Terramort Isle is; at least that will be a start. Has anyone ever heard of Terramort in the past, any mention from travelers, scrolls, books, old rhymes anything at all?"

"I think I may be of some help there." Brother Hubert had been eavesdropping on the conference from the door of the gatehouse. He wandered over cleaning dust from his spectacles. "Hmm, is that food I see? I think I'll join you."

Seating himself comfortably, he began helping himself to cheese, bread and cold cider.

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Simeon coughed politely. "Ahem! I don't suppose that you've ever heard of Terramort, Hubert?"

Brother Hubert blinked over the top of his spectacles. "On the contrary, as soon as I heard the name it brought to mind a young mouse who should have been learning the precepts of Redwall Abbots in bygone days. Yes, he thought I was dozing and he began leafing through the scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler ..."

Tarquin hastily swallowed a redcurrant muffin. "Fieldroan! Well, there's a thing! My Father Lorquin knew him, of course. Old Fieldroan had more seasons to gray his hairs than a hedgehog has spikes when he and the jolly old pater were chums. D'y'know, I thought I recognized that poem young Saxtus recited at the feastknow bits of it m'self. Blow me if it isn't one of Fieldroan's very own rhymes!"

Brother Hubert sniffed severely. "Indeed. Well, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, Fieldroan was a compulsive traveler. I met him one winter and sheltered him in the gatehouse through half a season of deep snow. He left some of his scrolls with me because they were becoming too bulky to carry about on his journeys."

This time it was Dandin's turn to interrupt. "Where are they, Brother Hubert? Do you have them?"

"Patience, young mouse, patience. I'll have to search them out. Unfortunately my gatehouse has become a little, ahem, untidy of late."

Leaving the meal half finished, everybody hurried to the gatehouse, intent on being the first to discover the scrolls. Brother Hubert scurried about in alarm.

"Don't touch anything. You don't know my storage system, any of you. Valuable writings could be lost, my collating disturbed ..."

"You old fraud, Hubert," Simeon chuckled. "Your system is nothing but layers of dust. Even I can feel that at a single touch. Don't worry, friend. By the time

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we're finished we'll free the gatehouse of rubbish and dust and provide you with a proper tidy system. I think everything will have to be moved out here onto the lawn. It's the only way we'll find anything from that

jumble."

oo

Midafternoon saw the sunlit lawn dotted with piles of manuscripts, books, scrolls, parchments and pamphlets. Covered in dust, the friends sat by the wall, sipping cold mint and rose cordial.

Saxtus shook his head for the umpteenth time. "No, it wasn't any of that lot. I'd know them the moment I saw them."

Bagg and Runn sat on top of the wallstairs, laughing and giggling. "Hoheeheehee. . . . Whoohahaha. What a bunch of dustbags!"

Brother Hubert tried to ignore them. "Yes, I'd recognize those scrolls instantly myself ..."

"Teeheeheehee! Rec'nize them himself. . . . Yahah-ahaha!" They rolled about on the ramparts, kicking their legs in the air and wiping tears of merriment from their eyes as they went into fresh gales of laughter.

Mariel liked the fun-loving otter twins, but this was neither the time nor the place for fun and games. "Hi, you two," she called up to them. "Are you both sitting on a feather, or is it just a mad fit of the giggles?"

Bagg and Runn were laughing too much to answer. They fell about, slapping their paws down against the wall top and shaking their heads from side to side. The laughter was so infectious that Mariel and Saxtus began chuckling, and even Brother Hubert could not suppress a dry smile.

Simeon turned his sightless eyes toward the walltop. "Now then, you young villains. What's so funny? Let us in on the joke, please."

Bit by bit the story came out from the laughing twins.

"Woohoohoo! You're all lookin' for scrolls. . . . Hohoho!"

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"And you've. . . . Teeheehee! Shifted everythin' out of the gatehouse. Haha!"

"Yahahaha! But when you started carryin' all that stuff out. Ohohoho!"

"Br-Br-. Brother Hubert. . . . He-he. . . . Heeheehee! Gave old scrolls to Simeon t' stick under the gatehouse door an' keep it open. Hawhawhawhaw!"

"An' I said to Bagg. . . . Ohoohoohoo! S'pose they're the scrolls that everyone's lookin' for. Ahaahaahoho-hoheehee!"

Simeon turned his face to Brother Hubert, who looked guiltily toward the Abbot, who shook his head in disbelief. He was about to say something to Mariel, but the mousemaid was already at the gatehouse door, easing the flattened bundle of scrolls from under it.

"It's them, all rightthe scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler."

Rubbing dust and sweat from his brow, Dandin nudged Hubert. "Well, at least your gatehouse got a good free tidy-out, Brother!"

Smiles broke into chuckles, which gave way to open laughter all around.

Sister Sage shook a quilt out at the infirmary window and began folding it neatly as she reached for her feather duster.

"Well, it's nice to know that all some creatures have to do is sit out on the Abbey lawn in the sunshine and laugh all afternoon, I must say!"

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Graypatch drew his sword, waving it and roaring as he waded from the stream. "Now we'll see what yer made of, you sons of searats! Catch 'em in the shallows afore they're ashore an' massacre every rat of 'em. Sharp now. It's our necks or theirs. Charge, me buckos. Charge!"

The Creenfang had sailed into shore as close as Garrtail could take her. She listed slightly in the shallows then settled askew. Garrtail had his crew ready. Lining the rails, they gripped weapons between their teeth and waited his order as Graypatch's rats thundered across the sands.

Garrtail vaulted over the side, landing chest deep in the sea. "Follow me, lucky lads. It's booty for all aplenty when we've slain that load o' turncoats an' traitors. Over the side, all of yer!"

Quick thinking and speed had given the advantage to Graypatch. His searats were at the water's edge as Garrtail's crew came over the rails of the Creenfang.

Wading out, Graypatch called over his shoulder, "Keep to the shallows. Don't go too deep, lads, but hold Garrtail's scum in the deeper waters where they can't fight so good. Bigfang, get back to the Darkqueen. Kybo, you go with him. Get hold of any long boathooks

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or pikes you can find. Look lively now I'm not goin' back to Terramort with me head in the bows an' me body in the stern for Gabool to gloat over!"

Garrtail was out ahead of his crew. Realizing the urgency of the situation, he waded and cursed as he made his way toward Graypatch.