[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain (13 page)
Read [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain Online
Authors: Brian Jacques
Out on the lake, Leatho was keeping the coracles chasing after him, making sure they held to the left shore, where he knew they would not come into contact with the escaping slaves.
Groodl was shouting orders to his coracle crews from the shore. “Don't throw those spears, idiots! Hold on to 'em and try to stab 'im. You guards with bows, don't go shootin' at shadows, try t'get a clear target. D'ye hear me?”
What they did not know was that there were now eight otters in the water, not just one. They began popping up in different places, taking turns at mocking the catguards.
“Ahoy there, scruffywhiskers, I'm over here!”
“Ye don't want him, fishbrain, I'm the one yore lookin' for!”
“Belay there, I'm the Shellhound, not that 'un!”
Water sloshed over the sides of the flimsy craft as they wallowed about on the dark lake. Guards wobbled to keep their balance as they hurled spears and fired arrows willy-nilly, completely ignoring their scorecat's orders as they sought to silence their foes.
Groodl was hopping and leaping about in the shallows, ranting hoarsely, “Ye bunglin' mudheads, they're makin' fools of ye!”
Atunra came hurrying from the pier with Riggu's latest order. “Lord Felis says you must break off searching for Shellhound. Call those boats in immediately. We need everybeast on the bucket line!”
Catguards were passing buckets, jugs, bowls and pails, paw to paw, in a line which stretched from the pier end to the fortress. Water hissed and sizzled as they threw it on the flames around the base of the fortress. The guards in the coracles had been lured a fair way out onto the lake. They were only too glad when they heard their scorecat yelling for them to return to shore.
Leatho surfaced and almost bumped heads with Kolun. The big fellow was grinning from ear to ear. “Felis ain't holdin' prisoners no more, buckoe. Our crews got 'em well away an' safe. What now?”
The outlaw nodded toward the retreating coracles. “Let's teach a few o' those landlubbers a lesson!”
Big Kolun shot them a scornful glance. “My babes make a better shape at rowin' than that lot!”
Only three vessels made it to the safety of land. Between them, the two otters overturned the other three. Yowls, splashes and splutters of cats rent the night air as they were tipped into the water. Leatho and Kolun swam smoothly off, satisfied that their plan to free their otterfriends had succeeded.
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The last craft that the otters had tipped upside down was the one containing Jeefra and Pitru. Both cats went under immediately, but Pitru was the first to surface. He hauled himself up onto the hull of the coracle and grabbed a paddle from the water. He had made scarcely a stroke shoreward when the vessel heeled, lurching perilously over to one side. Jeefra had a tight hold of it, digging his claws into the birchbark covering as he strove wildly to pull himself aboard. He was in a mad panic, choking and spluttering between mouthfuls of water.
“Help me, help! Don't let me drown, Pitru!”
Pitru glanced around at the other survivors. They were all floundering toward land, oblivious to what was going on behind them. Pitru bared his fangs as he brought the paddle down twice, as hard as he couldâthe first time, on Jeefra's paws and the second on Jeefra's head.
Throwing the paddle away, Pitru flattened himself on the upturned hull, staring into the dark waters that Jeefra had disappeared under. Then he began paddling landward with his paws, crying out pitifully, “Jeefra, where are you? Has anybeast seen my poor brother?”
Riggu Felis had spoken truly when he had said that one day his son would become a dangerous beast.
9
Brother Perant would not allow Tiria, Tribsy or Brinty back into his Infirmary, even though they pleaded with him. Standing in the doorway, he blocked the entrance, resisting all their efforts.
“No, no, 'tis out of the question, I'm afraid. Those two birds are under my care. I cannot risk you stirring up any more squabbles between them. Please go away!”
But the ottermaid continued trying to reason with him. “I promise you we won't, Brother, really. It's most important that I speak with them. If we can't come in, then perhaps you could allow them to come out. You have my solemn word we'll return them to you as soon as I have the information we require.”
The Infirmary Keeper could be rather stubborn when he had a mind to, a quality he viewed more as a virtue than a fault. “Allow them out? Certainly not, miss! The birds are both injured creatures. They need to recover under my care. That's my final word. Now be off with you!”
Perant was about to slam the door when Abbess Lycian arrived upon the scene with the hogbabe Grumby in tow. The Dibbun hid behind her habit, sucking on his paw.
Lycian smiled disarmingly. “Ah, Brother Perant, have you a moment to spare for a wounded kitchen helper?”
The little hogbabe was still sucking lustily on his paw as the Abbess ushered him forward. “Tell Brother Perant what happened to you.”
Lycian removed the paw from Grumby's mouth so he could speak. “I'm hurted meself, Bruvva, sticked me pore likkle paw onna 'ot h'oven an' cookered it!”
The good Brother forgot his stubborness, softening instantly. “Oh lack a day and dearie me! Friar Bibble never told me we were having small cooked hogpaws for supper. Come in, young sir, let's see what we can do about your poor paw!”
Grumby hung back reluctantly. “Baby Taggle say you gonna choppa off me paw wivva big knife. Then she say you choppa me tail off, too!”
Crouching down level with Grumby, the healer chuckled. “Don't you take any notice of Dibbun Taggle, she's a dreadful fibber. Wait until I see her . . . why, I'll put nasty ointment on her tongue and bandage it up!”
Grumby giggled at the idea. “Tharra teach 'er to fib!”
Perant led him into the Infirmary. “I'll tell you how I treat cooked paws. First, I bathe them in nice cool water. Then I apply some soothing salve and a dressing. While I'm doing this, you can use your good paw to help yourself to some candied chestnuts from my special jar. How does that sound to you, sir?”
Grumby rattled his spikes with pleasure. “Sounders fine t'me, Bruvva. . . . Yeek, the big birdies gonna h'eat me!”
He scooted out of the Infirmary, straight into Tiria's paws. Recognising an opportunity, she smiled winningly at Perant. “I'm sure they wouldn't, but he's only a Dibbun, probably never seen a hawk or a goose close-up, Brother. Please, won't you reconsider letting us take them off your paws for a while so you can attend to little Grumby?”
Though Lycian did not know exactly what was going on, she spoke up on behalf of Tiria and her friends. “The birds won't come to any harm with these young ones, Brother. They're almost fully grown-up now. I'll keep an eye on them, too. What do you say, friend?”
Besides being stubborn, Perant was also highly conscious of Abbey protocol and courtesy. He bowed gravely. “If that is your wish, Mother Abbess!”
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Afternoon tea was being served on the front lawn, not far from the gatehouse. Redwallers broke off momentarily, some of them showing apprehension at the arrival of an osprey and a barnacle goose. Lycian reassured them calmly.
“We've brought some friends to tea. This is Brantalis, and this is Pandion. They're very well-mannered. Do make them welcome, please.”
Tribsy, like all the younger creatures, greatly admired the ease with which Lycian was able to deal with everybeast, even though many of the Abbey's residents were older than their Abbess. “Burr, you'm surrpinkly gotten ee way abowt you'm, marm. H'ole Perant bee'd abowt to shoo us'n's off, but you'm soon fixered 'im. Hurr hur, naow you'm a settlin' h'eveybeast completeful to ease with ee gurt burds!”
Tiria and Lycian took the birds to the buffet table, allowing them to choose what they liked. Brantalis opted for soft cheese and watercress sandwiches, which he immersed in a bowl of pea and cabbage soup and gobbled down with evident relish. Pandion favoured preserved fruits and a leek and mushroom turnover, both of which he seemed to enjoy. The Redwallers dining nearby were amused by the barnacle goose's quaint mode of speech.
“This good food, I am thinking it is very likeful. Soon I am thinking I will try some of that tireful!”
Brinty laughed. “That's called trifle, not tireful. I'm sure you'll like it. Maybe Pandion will, too.”
The great fish hawkpecked at his turnover pastry crust. “Kraaah! I will have the soup with watershrimps in it. Pandion likes watershrimp!”
Tiria interrupted politely. “It's also a favourite among otters. Actually, all Redwall vittles are good. But first I must ask you some questions.”
A group of Dibbuns had formed a ring on the lawn. They flexed their tiny limbs, hopping about, as Sister Doral, the Abbey Beekeeper, tuned up her fiddle.
Once prepared, the jolly Sister called out, “Please take your places for the Bee Dance. Abbess Lycian and Hillyah, will you oblige us by singing the verses?” Without further ado, she struck up the lively introduction.
Brantalis began bobbing his head up and down in time with the tune. “Music is good! Tiria, I am thinking I will be answering your questions not now. Later!”
Pandion commenced tapping his talons upon a platter. “Dances, I like dances and song. Kreeeekyaaaaaarr!”
Tiria watched the pair, surprised that they wanted to watch and listen. She settled back with a sigh. “Be my guests, please. I'll wait until it's finished.”
Within moments, the ottermaid was tapping her rudder along with the infectious tune.
“Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for
me!
Fly o'er lawn and buzz o'er lea,
fetch that honey for my tea,
visit all your special flowers
blooming through the summer hours.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
Woodruff clover poppy thyme,
spurrey sorrel columbine,
dogrose heather harebell blue,
violet pansy speedwell too.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
From the blossom's nectar sweet,
comes a hearty honey treat,
I can't wait 'til you arrive,
at my table from your hive.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
Golden rich and gooey thick,
sticky likkle paws I lick,
scrumptious munchious gorgeous stuff,
Dibbuns just can't get enough.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for
me!”
me!
Fly o'er lawn and buzz o'er lea,
fetch that honey for my tea,
visit all your special flowers
blooming through the summer hours.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
Woodruff clover poppy thyme,
spurrey sorrel columbine,
dogrose heather harebell blue,
violet pansy speedwell too.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
From the blossom's nectar sweet,
comes a hearty honey treat,
I can't wait 'til you arrive,
at my table from your hive.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for me!
Golden rich and gooey thick,
sticky likkle paws I lick,
scrumptious munchious gorgeous stuff,
Dibbuns just can't get enough.
Heyla huppla Mister Bee, make some honey just for
me!”
Abbess Lycian knew the song well, and she sang it prettily. Watching her Abbeybabes dance always gave her enormous pleasure. However, she also found it puzzling: The little ones were normally stumbling, bumbling toddlers, but the instant they heard music, they were completely transformed. Away they went in perfect rhythm, clapping, jigging, bowing, twirling and performing some artful high kicks and fancy paw-work. Some of them could actually somersault and cartwheel.
The applause from the Redwall audience was almost drowned out by the two big birds as they reared up, beating their outspread wings furiously. Brantalis honked, whilst Pandion threw back his head and skriked to the skies. Encouraged by the ovation, the Dibbuns threw themselves into the dance again as an encore. Tiria began wondering if she would ever get the chance to interview the two birds.
After a while, Sister Doral put the fiddle away and went to get her tea. Tiria was about to speak with Brantalis when her father and Brink came and joined them. Banjon sat on the lawn, enjoying some warm scones, damson preserve and hot mint tea.
“Ahoy, Tiria, me gel! Me'n Brink been out trollin' the woodlands for yore water rats. We lost their trail in the nor'east woodlands, by the marshes borderin' the watermeadows. I don't think ye'll be seein' them again. Ain't that right, Brink?”
The sturdy Cellarhog seated himself laboriously, trying to balance a trencher that was piled high with salad, pasties, soup, bread and cheese. He winked at the ottermaid. “Aye, beauty, those vermin are either sunk without trace, or they made it o'er the watermeadows an' headed up north out o' Mossflower. Are ye alright now, missy? That was a funny liddle turn ye took, back in the ditch earlier.”
Tiria decided to let them in on her dream experience. “I wasn't ill at all. It was that I'd suddenly recalled a dream I had last night. If you've a moment to spare, I'll tell you all about it.”
As the shadows began lengthening, Skipper Banjon listened avidly to his daughter's narration of her vision and the subsequent events. When Tiria had finished, he stared oddly at her.
“Rip me rudder, gel, I always knowed you was fated for somethin' other than Abbey life. Ever since we lost yore dear Ma, fates rest her memory. You was nought but a liddle furball then, but I sensed it in ye. Aye, the more ye've growed, the more certain of it I am. Tiria, yore different from the others. A true Wildlough, that's wot ye are!”
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