Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

Saxtus helped himself to more mushroom-and-cress soup. "Read it again, Mariel. Perhaps it may sound clearer if you do."

Mariel drew a deep breath. "Right, here goes for the tenth time . . .

If I were fool of any sort, I'd leave Redwall and travel forth, For only fools seek Terramort Upon the pathway leading north. This trail brings death with every pace; Beware of dangers lurking there, Sticklegs of the feathered race And fins that in the ford do stir. After the ford, one night one day, Seek out the otter and his wife. Forsake the path, go westlands way, Find the trail and lose your life. When in the woods this promise keep,

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With senses sharp and open eyes,

'My nose shall not send me to sleep'

For buried ones will surely rise.

Beat the hollow oak and shout,

'We are creatures of Redwall!'

If a brave one is about,

He'll save any fool at all.

Beware the light that shows the way,

Trust not the wart-skinned toad,

In his realm no night no day.

Fool, stay to the road.

Where the sea meets with the shore,

There the final clue is hid;

Rock stands sentinel evermore,

Find it as I did.

The swallow who cannot fly south,

The bird that only flies one way,

Lies deep beneath the monster's mouth,

Keep him with you night and day.

His flight is straight, norwest is true,

Your fool's desire he'll show to you."

Brother Hubert made a show of polishing his spectacles busily. "Complete balderdash and nonsense, of course. Fieldroan was, like most old travelers, given to tall stories and half-truths. The very idea of it! Sticklegs and fins, otters' wives, sleeping noses and buried ones rising. Huh! Truth was a cuckoo's egg to that fellow."

Tarquin left off chewing an enormous turnip 'n' leek pastie. "I say, that's a bit strong, old boy. What reason would old Fieldroan have to tell a pile of fibs? Personally I'm inclined to believe the bally poem, even though I can't make head nor tail of it."

Simeon touched Mariel's paw. "What do you think, young one? After all, the decision to travel upon this information is yours."

Mariel patted the blind herbalist's shoulder. "Thank you, Simeon. I will tell you what I think. I never knew

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Fieldroan so I cannot say if his poem is totally correct, but it is all I have to go on if I am to reach Terramort, so I will do what the rhyme says to rescue my father and return the great bell to Lord Rawnblade."

The Abbot pursed his lips. "But that is not all you intend to do, Mariel."

The mousemaid's voice had a ring of determination which no creature could deny.

"I have only one other thing to do I must slay Gabool the Wild. None of you can know the hatred I bear toward this barbarian. He must be sent to Hell-gates so that decent creatures can live in peace; only then will I rest. I must do this alone. I thank you my friends for all the kindness and hospitality you have shown to me, a stranger in your midst. Continue to live, prosper and be happy in your wonderful Abbey, but do not try to follow me. The responsibility is mine alone, and I cannot allow any Redwaller to risk life and limb on my behalf. Now I must sleep. Tomorrow my

journey begins."

oo

When the mousemaid had retired to the dormitories, Dandin looked at the friends around the table in Cavern Hole.

"I am going with her. She cannot achieve her aims alone."

Mother Mellus rapped the table. "You'll stay right here at Redwall, Dandin."

The young mouse turned to the Abbot. There was no change of verdict.

"Dandin, we are creatures of peace, and also duty. You must obey Mother Mellus. You are still a very young mouse in our care."

"But ..."

The Abbot held up a paw in a gesture of finality. "No more arguments, please. The hour is late and sleep beckons."

t *

Shadows of drifting nightcloud meandered past the moon. A light breeze made the hot night more tolerable, and trees rustled and sighed in Mossflower Woods, sending their whisperings echoing around the stones of Redwall. Simeon sat propped up by cushions in his armchair near the open windowhe seldom slept in bed. It was sometime after midnight. Unsure of whether he was half awake or half asleep, the blind herbalist felt a presence in the room.

"Is that you, Bernard, old friend?" he said softly into the darkness.

The voice that replied was not that of the Abbot; it was strong, firm and reassuring, a voice that Simeon instinctively felt he could trust.

"Simeon, friend, Dandin must go. Mariel needs him."

The blind mouse felt a light touch against his paw. All around was the scent of woodland flowers, columbine, wood anemones, bryony, honeysuckle and dog rose. The voice spoke again.

"The blood of Gonff flows in Dandin. Mariel needs a friend as I once did. Do not be afraid, come with me."

Simeon arose from the chair and left the room, guided by his strange visitor, though somehow with the odd feeling that none of this was real and he was still sitting in his chair. Convinced that he was asleep, Simeon decided to settle back and enjoy the dream.

oo

Down stairs and down more stairs, along winding and twisting corridors, never touching the walls as he usually would, yet not putting a paw wrong, as he was guided by the friendly presence, the blind herbalist practically floated. He heard a door creak softly as it opened. Gliding through, Simeon sensed that he was in a rock chamber somewhere deep beneath the Abbey. It was so peaceful and quiet here, yet wistful, with a breath of summers long gone, and autumn mists hanging like dried tears. Simeon could not suppress a long

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sigh in the silent calm of the chamber. Something was pressed into his paws; he felt it as the voice spoke

again.

"Leave this with Dandin. Do not wake himhe will

understand."

Drawing the thing from its long case, the blind herbalist felt it. From the smooth pommel stone, across the curving hilt and down the perilous blade to the winter-keen tip, Simeon touched it. He had never felt a sword before, but the blind mouse knew that had he felt ten thousand swords, none would have been fit to compare with this one. The balance was perfectwieldy, yet light as a feather; dangerous, but safe as a rock to the paw that held it; a blade of death, yet of destiny and

justice.

Simeon hardly remembered the journey back. He dimly recalled leaving the sheathed sword alongside Dandin as he lay sleeping. Then he was back in his armchair, wide awake, with the cool night breeze wafting on him through the open window, the woodland flower scent, and a fading voice calling from far off: "Goodbye, Simeon. May the seasons rest easily upon

you ..."

Simeon smiled and settled back in his chair as sleep

closed in on him.

"And may the peace of Redwall Abbey be upon you,

Martin the Warrior/'

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The sails of the Darkqueen had to be tight furled to avoid overhanging trees. Oarslaves had been brought up from the galleys, pitiful wretches; they stood on deck, using the long oars to punt the massive vessel upriver. Graypatch stood at the helm, supervising the movements, moonlight patching down through the night foliage upon his lean figure. Floodtide had lifted the Darkcjueen's nose from the sandbank, and then with a favorable night breeze she had spread sails and glided across the shore toward the forest-fringed dunes.

oo

Pakatugg had been following the progress of the ship since he first spotted it offshore from the dunes. The recluse squirrel had followed along the shoreline and seen everything, from the near mutiny of Graypatch's crew as they hauled the Darkqueen, to the murderous encounter with Garrtail and the burning of Greenfang. Pakatugg was on the scavenge; anything he could steal from the searats he considered would be his by right. When he saw the ship sailing across the beach toward the forest, his respect for Graypatch grewhe would have to treat this searat with some respect. A ship in full sail, gliding over a beach in the night, what a strange sight!