The Sable Quean (42 page)

Midda had taken the knife from Triggut’s belt. She brandished it. “Kill him—that’s what he deserves after the way he made us suffer. Kill the scum, I say!”

Diggs wrested the knife from the shrewmaid. He smiled wanly at Ambrevina. “Typical Guosim, eh? Not very bloomin’ maidenlike. I know one just like her, name o’ Flib.”

Midda grasped the hare’s paw. “She’s my sister. Is she still alive?”

Diggs nodded. “Aye, missy, an’ just as jolly well feisty as you, if I ain’t much mistaken.” He pointed the knife at Triggut. “Well, then, me stinky old scout, looks like you ain’t too popular this season.”

The crazy hog grovelled at Diggs’s footpaws, wiping at his leaky eye as he wailed, “Waaah haaah! Don’t kill me, kind sire. I never meant to ’urt ’em. ’Twas all a joke. Spare me, I beg yew!”

Diggs, whose mind was still on food, posed a question. “Right, I’ll see what I can do if you can tell me this. The mainstream yonder—does it run twixt some high rocky banks where a good old water vole has her home, wot?”

Triggut’s bare head bobbed up and down furiously. “Aye, sir, I’ve seen ’er, though we ain’t never talked together. Ole water vole, wears frilly aprons an’ bonnets. Just follow the stream down a ways. Yew’ll see ’er place. On the right bank it is, sir. Now, will yew spare me?”

The chubby hare grinned cheerfully. “Why, of course, my dear chap! I say, young uns, wait’ll you taste old Mumzy’s vittles, real first-class scoff!”

Tura gave Triggut a none-too-gentle shove. “An’ what do we do about this rotten thing?”

Triggut began giggling insanely. “Heeheehee! Don’t yew fret, missy. Jus’ leave pore Triggut Frap ’ere. I won’t never ’arm another creature. Yew kin take me word on that! Heeheehee!”

Ambrevina uncoiled the rope which the mad hog had used to restrain Diggla. She began binding Triggut until he could not move a paw. Tossing the rope over a branch growing midway up a nearby hornbeam, she hoisted him into the air. Securing the rope’s end around a lower limb, she left him dangling.

Jiddle yanked on the rope, watching the unfortunate beast bounce up and down. The Witherspyk hog smirked. “There now, laugh that off!”

Having reinforced Triggut’s old raft with the willow trunk, the entire party boarded it. They pushed off onto the watermeadow, in full view of their former tormentor, waving mocking farewells.

“G’bye now, don’t forget an’ finish that nice big house off someday after you’re loose!”

“Aye, an’ don’t go paddlin’. There’s still some pike left. They aren’t too fussy about what they eat!”

“Haha, nothin’ worse than hangin’ about, is there?”

Diggs was in such high spirits at the prospect of good food that he composed a shanty right there and then.

Jinty fluttered her eyelashes at the tubby hare. “Did anybeast teach you to sing, Mister Diggs?”

Diggs puffed his chest out proudly. “No. Why d’you ask?”

She smiled innocently. “Oh, nothing, really, but it might’ve been nice if they had.”

Diggs thought about this for a moment, then gave the hogmaid an icy glare. “See here, marm, I’ve seen creatures thrown overboard for remarks like that. It’s bloomin’ mutiny, y’know!”

Midda nodded as if in agreement. “I know what y’mean. My pa’s a Guosim Log a Log, an’ I’ve seen him do the same to awful singers.”

Everybeast aboard laughed heartily. Life had suddenly become good for them after so long.

Apart from keeping a weather eye out for high-sided banks, there was little to do. The fast downstream current meant they did not have to row or punt. Diggs, having promoted himself to captain, steered with a paddle from the stern. The rest took their ease, allowing the cold water to run through their paws, watching speckled trout through the clear stream.

Ambrevina judged Midda to be the young ones’ leader. The badgermaid spoke to her. “I suppose it was a lot worse than that island, being held underground in those caves?”

The Guosim maid turned her face to the sun, closing her eyes, enjoying its summer warmth. “It was all bad, being held prisoner—in the caves or on the island—until you and Diggs rescued us. I can’t thank you enough, Ambry.”

After a brief silence, the badgermaid continued, “When you were taken prisoner, did you chance to come across a young otter? His name was Flandor.”

Midda did not speak. She opened her eyes, letting the tears run down her face. She nodded.

Ambrevina felt a sudden sadness, like a leaden weight pressing on her heart. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Midda wiped the back of a paw across her eyes. “Flandor was murdered by the Sable Quean. He was trying to defend us. I’ll never forget him. He was a very brave otter. Did you know him, Ambry?”

Ambrevina stared at the passing fields and woodlands, radiant with bright summer. She sighed deeply. “I was searching for him. Flandor was my only friend.”

Diggla, who had been using the huge badgermaid as a hill, clambered over her shoulders and stared into Ambrevina’s deep-brown eyes as they softened with unshed tears. The mousebabe placed a tiny paw on each side of the big striped muzzle.

“Don’t you not cry, now. Us all yore mates.”

Ambrevina was a very large creature, so she took special care as she hugged Diggla. “Thank you. I couldn’t wish for nicer friends.”

A nautical shout from Diggs broke the spell. “Avast an’ ahoy, ye lubbers, there’s the place, a-hovin’ up on our por . . . starb. . . .” He pointed. “On that side with the tall rocky bank! Now listen, crew, this good volemum is called Mumzy. So I want you all to call out to her, jolly loud. Right, one, two . . .”

“Muuuuummmmzzzeeeee!” the young ones bellowed at the top of their voices.

Suddenly, there she was, standing on the high banktop, waving a tablecloth. “Ah, sure, an’ doesn’t that sound like young tubgutt Diggs. So, now, I see ye’ve brought company for tea with Mumzy. Young uns an’ babbies are always welcome at my ould fireside for a sup an’ a bite. Corks an’ cloudbursts, will ye look at the size of that fine badgermaid? Faith’n’mercy, don’t eat me out of house an’ home, miz, will ye?”

Ambrevina cheered up, waving back to the water vole. “I’ll try not to, Mumzy, but I can’t answer for Diggs!”

Inside her comfortable dwelling, Mumzy sat the young ones down. Rubbing her paws gleefully, the water vole addressed her guests. “Sure, an’ it does me ould heart good t’see such a grand lot o’ babbies. Just ye bide here whilst Mumzy fixes up such vittles that’ll put a shine in yore eyes an’ a sheen to yore fur. Miz Ambry, you, too, Diggs, I’ve got news to report, so lissen careful, now.”

Diggs and the badgermaid paid attention to Mumzy as she began chopping nuts into honey for a pie filling.

“Buck an’ Jango were here with their crew, but they got word that the Ravagin’ vermin were marchin’ on Redwall, aye, the full shebang o’ the villains. So yore friends didn’t wait about—they went off at the double. I think they were tryin’ to beat that ould Zwilt an’ his rascals to the Abbey. So, ye’d best be on yore way, if ye wish to help ’em out.”

Diggs saluted her. “Naturally, marm, call of duty an’ all that, y’know! Oh, corks, does that mean we’ll miss a decent spot o’ scoff, wot?”

Ambrevina reminded him sternly, “What would you rather do, sit here stuffing your face, or go to the assistance of your comrades?”

The tubby young hare shrugged. “I know what I’d like to jolly well do, but I also know what I’ve bloomin’ well got to do. Forward the buffs, true blue an’ never fail. On to Redwall, posthaste!”

Mumzy threw a few things into a small flour bag. “Here, now, take these t’help ye on yore way. ’Tis only an’ ould chestnut’n’mushroom bake an’ a bite of blackberry tart, but ’twill keep ye goin’!”

Diggs grabbed the bag. “Grateful t’ye, marm, but what about those little blighters?”

The motherly water vole smiled fondly at the young ones. “Ah, don’t fret yore fur about the babbies. They’ll come t’no harm with me. Sure, I’d keep ’em for good if’n I could. Just do what ye’ve got t’do, then send for ’em whenever ’tis safe t’do so. Go now, an’ may kind breezes be ever at yore backs an’ fortune smile kindly on ye!”

Ambrevina was immediately off, though Diggs lingered a moment as Mumzy told her young guests what she was planning for their lunch. “Right, me liddle darlin’s, how’d ye fancy a honeynut tart with hot arrowroot sauce, some raspberry cordial an’ a fine ould bowl of apple’n’pear crumble?”

Diggs gritted his teeth as he climbed to the bank top. “Lucky blighters. Serves ’em right if they scoff too flippin’ much an’ end up with tummyache, wot!”

Ambrevina had to wait for Diggs to catch up. “Which way to Redwall?”

He took the lead. “Follow me, Ambry, old gel. By the left, though, you look jolly keen for a crack at the vermin, wot?”

Keeping hot on his footpaws, the badgermaid hastened him on. “I just want to catch up with those who murdered my friend Flandor. Can’t you go any faster?”

The gluttonous hare fed on pawfuls of food from the flour bag as he panted forward. “You’ve prob’ly heard that hares are built for speed. Well, not this bloomin’ chap, I can tell you. My pal Buck can deal with the vermin until we arrive—he’s a Blademaster, y’know. There’s him, Jango, Skipper, Axtel, Bartij an’ absolute scads o’ Guosim shrews an’ useful Redwallers. They’re sure t’keep a firm paw on things ’til we arrive. I say, d’you want any o’ this tucker, Ambry? Jolly tasty stuff, wot!”

Ambrevina cast a jaundiced eye over the mixed mess of congealed chestnut and mushroom bake mingling with blackberry tart. “Aye, give it t’me, will you?”

Diggs reluctantly passed the bag to her. “Have a bite or two, but leave some for a famished young chap—share an’ share alike, wot wot?”

She flicked the lot off into the undergrowth. “This is not the time for meals. We’ll eat when we get to Redwall Abbey. Now, shake a paw, will you!”

Diggs increased his pace, knowing it would be unwise to argue with a badger of his companion’s size. However, that did not stop him chunnering to himself. “Huh, shameful waste, that’s what ’tis. Chuckin’ good scoff away to the blinkin’ insects. By the left, if my old mess sergeant caught y’doin’ that, marm, you’d be on a real fizzer, quarter season in the bloomin’ guardhouse. Hah, an’ you’d richly deserve it!”

They passed on, leaving the half-finished bag of food hanging from a bramble in the undergrowth. A scrawny paw reached out and retrieved it.

 

Gliv clutched the bag to her, crawling back through the bushes to where Vilaya lay resting.

The sable’s glittering eyes watched the stoat keenly. “Who was that passing by? What did you steal from them?”

Gliv sat down just out of reach. She began eating from the bag. “It was just one of those rabbets an’ a big stripedog. From wot they was sayin’, I think they’re bound for that Abbey. Looks like Zwilt will have a fight on his paws if’n ’e has t’face the stripedog. She was big—looked like a fighter t’me.”

The injured Sable Quean was inching closer. “And they gave you those vittles?”

Gliv stuffed a pawful of Mumzy’s food down, licking her blackberry-stained mouth. “ ’Course they never gave me it. The stripedog slung it away, said they didn’t ’ave time fer meals.”

Holding her wounded side, Vilaya rolled rapidly over, seizing the bag from Gliv. Casting aside any pretence to daintiness, she wolfed the remainder down. “Go and find me some water. I’m thirsty.”

The stoat sneered. “Feelin’ better, are we? Ye’ll soon be up an’ about. I thought you was gonna die for a while back there.”

Vilaya stood up, leaning against a sycamore. “No time for dying. I’ve got a score to settle!”

Gliv grinned coldly. “Huh, so have we both!”

27

Seeing his friends with their backs to the west wallgate, illuminated by the shafts of firelight, Skipper roared out the order. “Open the gates! Everybeast to the entrance! Quick!”

The main entrance was pulled open in a trice. Ducking down, Buckler, Bartij, Jango and the Guosim crew retreated hurriedly inside. The defenders hurled a salvo of javelins, rocks and slingstones at the advancing Ravagers. Temporarily blinded by the sudden burst of light from the bonfire in the open gateway, the vermin were taken by surprise. They scattered both ways along the path, seeking to avoid the onslaught of missiles, some slipping backward into the ditch.

Zwilt lashed about him with the flat of his broadsword, yelling hoarsely, “Forward! Forward! Keep going, can’t you see the gates are open? Forward! Chaaaaarge!”