Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

Still laughing to himself, the mad King reached the bottom of the steps. He entered a side room and took a spear from its wallhanger. At the center of the room

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was a circular stone with a thick iron ring attached. Gabool thrust the spear through the ring and levered the stone upward. Sliding it to one side, he took the spear and crouched over the hole in the floor.

"Skrabblag, matey, it's me, Gabool. Sing outare y'there?"

There was no reply. Gabool jabbed down into the inky darkness with the long spear. There was a dry, rustling sound, accompanied by an odd clicking noise. The searat grinned.

"Aharr, you murderous villain, I can hear yeh. What's it like down there, livin' on rotten fishheads an' scraps o' dead seabird?"

The rustling and clicking increased. Something caught the spear blade, but Gabool pulled it back quickly.

"Hoho, not so fast, bucko. I know you'd like to drag me down there, but you bide your time and old Gabool will give yer a little gift. Remember Graypatch? Aye, he was the one that helped catch you an' take you from your nice warm island to this cold dark berth, Well, you stop down there an' think what you'd like to do to Graypatch. Pretty soon now I'll let him drop in an' pay you a call. You'd like that, wouldn't yer?"

The clicking and rustling increased. Gabool laughed heartily as he slid the stone back into place with the spear.

Outside, the wind moaned around the rocks of Terra-mort and the stones of Bladegirt. The restless sea pounded coves and inlets as seabirds deserted the skies for nests and perches. Gabool sat once more in his banqueting hall, chin in claws as he slouched across the table and spoke to his bell.

"Hah! Yer gettin' dirty now since there's no slaves to spit an' polish yer shiny hide. An' that's the way it should be, big an' dirty with a brassy voice. One day the bell tower will be built, then I'll string you up there an' make you sing every time I tug the rope. I'll make

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yer sing or be quiet, just as I please. What've y'got to say to that, eh?"

The great bell remained silent, Gabool sat watching it until his weighted eyelids began drooping over weary blood-seared eyes. A ship in flames passed his vision, followed by another lying on its side in a creek, overgrown by trees, and yet a third ship washed up and holed upon a reef. Bluddrig, Garrtail, Saltar and Orgeye floated lifeless in the waves sweeping across his fevered dream, dead rats all. Through the shifting gray mists a huge armored badger strode. Raising his sword, he struck.

Gabool was awake once more, glaring his hatred across the table at the bell whose very presence haunted his every moment.

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22

"Haharr, me old shipmates, how was your voyage?"

Graypatch had his sight back now, though his eye was still quite swelled. He sat on a fallen log with Fishgill, watching his sheepish crew. Bigfang kept noticeably out of the way. Kybo, still the unofficially elected spokesrat, unfolded the unfortunate encounter with the hares and reported on the sorry state of the vessel Darkqueen. Graypatch listened to the woeful narrative as he sat sketching on the ground with his sword-point. When Kybo had finished, the other searats gathered around to hear what Graypatch had to say. He kept them waiting awhile before he spoke.

"A sad an' mis'rable tale, mateys, but what ship can last forever? Darkqueen was a good craft, but she'd be a floatin' death warrant for us against the might of Gabool. Leave 'er to rot in the creek, I say. Redwall Abbey's worth a hundred Darkqueens, we'll be Lords of this land, country gentlerats if y'please, instead of floatin' bilgeslops at the mercy of wind 'n' water, tryin' to grab a livin' with one claw while usin' the other to fend off that madrat Gabool. No more of that fer us, messmates. This is the warm soft country, and it can be all ours if yer willin' to follow me. Well, what d'yer say?"

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There was an immediate roar of approval. Many claws reached out to pat the searat Captain's back.

"We're with you, Skipper!"

"Aye, Graypatch always led us right!"

"You give the word, Cap'n, an' we'll follow yer to Hellgates an' back!"

Graypatch tapped his swordpoint at the drawing he had been working on. "Right then, buckos, here's me plan. This here's the Abbey. Now what we'll do is this: there's nigh on a hundred of us, closer to a hundred an' twenty countin' the oarslaves. Bigfang, here's yer chance, mate. Rush 'em an' burn the gates you said, as I recall. Well, that's exactly what you're goin' to do. Take Frink, Fishgill, 'ere, and five others. Keep the oarslaves so you'll look more like an army. Try burnin' those big Abbey gates down any way you can. Now then, I'll be in front on the flatland t'other side of the ditch with Ranzo, Dripnose an' a score or so others. We'll make a great show of firin' arrows an' slingin' stones; that way the attack will look like it's comin' from the front, but it won't. Kybo, you take the rest round the east side and sneak through the woodlands they're good 'n' thick there. Use ropes an' grapnels, just as if you were takin' a tall fat merchant ship. Ropes an' grapnels, lads, that's the key. Nice an' quiet like, slide over those walls. There's a little wallgate I've noticed on the north side. Get that open an' we'll be with yer in a trice. Bigfang should have the gates well ablaze by then. Do as I say an' we'll be takin' supper in Redwall Abbey tonight!"

Everyone cheered aloud, with the exception of Bigfang. Somehow he felt as if he had been tricked by Graypatch, though being in disgrace and having the whole crew against him left him in no position to complain.

CXO

Hot summer vegetable soup was being served with large flat oatcakes, there was fourseason plumcake and

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elderberry cup to follow. The sentries on the Abbey walls took theirs as they watched the surrounding countryside for signs of movement. The food was being served in the orchard. Sister Sage and Mother Mellus dished it out to the little ones, and each carried their portion to a corner of the orchard where the Abbot, assisted by Simeon and Foremole, stood ready to give them a lecture- Seated in a group beneath a gnarled apple tree, the Dibbuns began eating. Abbot Bernard cast a kindly eye over them, shook back his habit sleeves and began.

"Righto, my little friends. Carry on eating while I talk to you. Er, Grubb, stop dipping your oatcake into Baby Turgle's soup and listen to me, please."

Grubb did as he was told but immediately started complaining. "Yurr zurr Habbit, 'ee squirrel Turgle's a-drinken moi drink!"

The infant squirrel grinned over the top of Grubb's beaker and sucked noisily at his stolen elderberry cup. The Abbot turned his eyes skyward as if looking for patience. Foremole went among the Dibbuns and took charge of the situation.

"Gurr, you liddle terror, give 'ee drink back ter Grubb, an' yew, maister Grubb, touch yon Turgle's soup agin an' oi'll bite 'ee tail offen."

The Abbot took a deep breath and continued. "Now, as you may know, there are some very naughty creatures who've been hanging about outside our Abbey, but there's no need for you to worry or be frightened we'll take care of them. Meanwhile, I want all you Dibbuns to be very good little creatures. Do what you are told by those who look after you, Mother Mellus, Sister Sage, Sister Serena, Simeon, Brother Saxtus, myself ..."

"An' Bruvver Hoobit, too?"

"Yes, and Brother Hubert too."

"An' Foremole as well, Habbit?"

"Yes yes, Foremole as well."

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"An" Muvver Mell's too?"

"Yes, I've already said Mother Mellus. Now listen to me please ..."

"An' the fishes inna pond?"

"Now don't be silly, I said listen to wha -"

"An' a big red strawberry too?"

"Big red strawberry? What big red strawberry? Oh dear, Simeon, help me, please!"