Mariel Of Redwall Part 8

"Graypatch? He's Gabool's best steersrat. It could mean that Gabool has left his island. Darkqueen is the only ship he would sail in if he did."

Brigadeer Thyme ventured an opinion. "M'Lord, if old Gabool has taken to sailin' again, there could be trouble."

Rawnblade arose. He strode across to the window, where he stood gazing at the restless sea ebbing and flowing eternally.

"The prophecies carved on Salamandastron's walls tell of a time coming soon when trouble will become a byword; my destiny and trouble walk the same path paw in paw. Eat and sleep now, my faithful patrols. Our fortunes and fates are written in these rocks. Leave the worrying and wondering to the waves and clouds."

A night mist had fallen when Graypatch anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e. A longboat was lowered to take the reconnais- sance crew ash.o.r.e. Graypatch stayed aboard with Frink, his lookout, always watching north and west for signs of Gabool in pursuit.

Graypatch called down to Deadglim, his bosun, "See if you can find a likely spot, mate -fresh water and cover in plenty."

Deadglim took the scimitar from between his teeth long enough to answer. "Leave it t' me, Skipper. I've got a nose for likely coves."

Mist-shrouded moonless night enveloped Deadglim as he led the sh.o.r.e party forward into the dunes. He peered into the darkness.

"Not much 'ereabouts, lads. Nought but sandhills. Here, Gurd, gerrup on yer paws-time fer sleepin' when we're back aboard Darkqueen. Gurd?"

Gurd lay still, unable to answer because of the toad trident lodged in his throat. Immediately a score of tridents descended amid the unsuspecting searats. The screams of two wounded pierced the still night.

Deadglim waved his scimitar, yelling at the silent dunes, "Come out an' fight! Show yerselves, you cree-pin' bilgewashers!"

Suddenly the dunes echoed to thunderous croaking as countless toads hopped out, armed with tridents. Deadglim knew his challenge had been a foolish one. Throwing valor to the winds, he took to his paws shouting, "Retreat! Retreat! Back to the longboat!"

From the ship's rail, Graypatch and Deadglim could see the tideline teeming with trident-waving natterjacks. Deadglim shuddered.

"Cap'n, if anybeast ever tells you a toad is slow, don't believe it. We barely made it t' the longboat ahead of those slimy devils. There must be thousands of the croakin' sc.u.m."

Graypatch turned from the rail. "Set another course nor' an' east, Fishgill. We'll try our luck farther up the 89.

coast. Jump to it now, you swab. I don't want Gabool hovin' over the briny at our wake!"

Gabool the Wild could not sleep. He paced around and around the bell, chopping at midair with his sword, relating his thoughts to the brazen prize.

"Graypatch'll curse the day he was sp.a.w.ned when I catch up with him. I'll boil his skull an' bring it here for you to see, my beauty -see if I don't. Haharr, first Bludrigg an' then his mizzuble brother Saltar. Corsair, huh! He's nothin' but fishbait now. Like the other two, the scratchy liddle mousemaid an' her dear daddy Joseph, haharr! He's the one that made you, isn't he? Gone to fishbait for his foolishness."

Bongggggl Gabool jumped back with a yell, then he ran around the bell in a wide circle, searching and seeking, but there was n.o.beast in the room save for himself. Gradually he became calm.

"Haharr, 'twas only the wind playin' tricks."

Striding back to the bell he stroked it fondly. "Belay! So what if yer do talk, you can tell old Gabool all your secrets."

The bell remained silent. The King of Searats gazed up with narrowed eyes at the figures embossed around the top of the bellskirt.

"h.e.l.lsteeth! What do it all mean? Tell me, what's all those pretty liddle pictures, mice, badgers, rats, ships, an' all manner o'things? You tell me; I'm your master now. Speak! D'you hear me? Speak!"

But the bell remained still and voiceless, an inanimate metal object.

Gabool's wild temper rose. He spat upon the bell and kicked it. Still no sound came forth. In high bad mood he strode from the room, turning in the doorway and brandishing his sword at the great bell.

"h.e.l.l 'n' gullbait! You'll talk to me afore I'm done with yer!"

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He slammed the door furiously and strode off to his bedchamber.

Behind him in the empty room the bell tolled one booming knell.

Gabool's nerve deserted him. He cut and ran. Leaping into bed, he threw the covers over his head and lay there shivering.

cxo Sleep was a long time coming to Gabool the Wild, but when it did he wished that he had stayed awake. Badgers, mice, searats and spectral ships sailing upon phantom waves pursued him down the corridors of his restless imagination. The figures around the bell had come to life to torment him throughout the long dark night.

Lord Rawnblade too was sleeping. His vast form lay sprawled upon the bed near his armorer's forge in Sala-mandastron mountain. The sword Verminfate lay upon the bed, close to paw as it always was. In his dream the badger Lord found he was looking at the bell that he had commissioned Joseph the Bellmaker to cast for him. It was beautiful, just as he had imagined it would be, shining with a dull sheen, graven round top and bottom with the poem and the mysterious pictures which only badger Lords could interpret. Now a shape was materializing through the burnished curve of the bell metal-his archenemy Gabool the Wild. Curving sword in claw, the Searat King advanced, ornaments jangling, golden emerald-studded teeth glinting in a fiendish smile. Rawnblade's reaction, even in sleep, was instantaneous; he seized his broadsword and leaped from the bed, striking out with savage force. Clangggggl "Er, I say, M'lord, old chap, are you all right?" Colonel Clary was at his side. Rawnblade came fully awake, rubbing his eyes with one paw, he gazed down at the sword in the other.

"What? Er, oh, yes, thank you. Clary. It was merely a dream."

"My aunt's kittens! That must have been rather a jolly dream, M'lud. Look what you did to that shield!"

Rawnblade stared at the shield which had been in the way of his swordswing. The thick metal plate had been sheared in half. It lay on the floor, completely severed. Absentmindedly the badger Lord tested the unmarked blade of Verminfate.

"No alarm, old friend. Go back to your rest -it was only a dream."

"A dream, eh? Something out of the past, perhaps?"

Rawnblade lay back on the bed and held the formidable blade tightly.

"No, this was something from the future. I know it."

Gabriel Quill stood up amid the tables and multicolored lanterns that graced the orchard. He held a tankard of best October ale high and cried, "Righto, everybeast. Let's give a real Redwall toast to our Abbot!"

Every creature stood, raising bowls, beakers, tankards, cups and flagons. The soft summer night echoed as the mult.i.tude called aloud in one voice, "Abbot Bernard! Father of Redwall Abbey! Hurraaaaaaah!"

Saxtus sat down with a groan, holding his middle. "Whoof! Shouldn't be yelling like that on an overfull stomach."

Tarquin scoffed as he relieved Saxtus of his plate. Emptying the Forest Trifle, strawberry flan, pear gateau and hazelnut cream junket into his own oversized wooden bowl, he grabbed a spoon and tucked in.

"Haw haw! What's the matter, laddie buck? Little turn too full, is it? Scrumff! Old TarkersTl show you how to navigate yer way round a bowl of tucker, mmm! I say, any more of that summercream pudden stuff left?"

Grubb the Dibbun mole replied as he nodded sleepily forward toward an overheaped plate of woodland sum- 92.

mercream pudding, "Burr, baint no more pudden, zur. Oi snaffled 'ee last o' it. Snurr!"

Buxton and w.i.l.l.yum mole immediately left off eating huge portions of steaming Bernard Bread and dug into either side of Grubb's plate, eating furiously as the baby mole's sleepy head drooped nearer the pudding.

"Ho, save the choild, 'urry up an scoff quick now, lest the hinfant be drownded in yon pudden. Hurr hurr!"

Tarquin joined them indignantly. "I say, you chaps, chew each mouthful twenty times and leave this to me. Bally unthinkable, poor little blighter bein' drowned in a plate of pudden. Do not worry, young sire, help is at spoon. I'll save you. Gromff!"

Storm tried to stop spluttering Gabe Quill's giggly b.u.t.tercup 'n' honey cordial across the table. She shook with unbridled laughter at the antics of Tarquin and the two moles rescuing the dozing Grubb. The mouse-maid had never been so happy in any of the life she could remember-the food, the delicious drinks, the food, the kind Abbey creatures, the food, the good friends about her, and, of course . . . the food. Never had she tasted such marvelous things. Alternating between Bernard Bread, blackcurrant pie, summer salad, cheese 'n' nut flan, mintcream cakes and honey-glazed preserved fruits, she held her own with the best trencherbeasts.

Dandin was showing off slightly for her benefit, tossing redcurrants up and catching them in his mouth. He was quite good at it.

"Here, watch this, Storm. Betcher can't catch redcurrants like me."

"Haha! Who can't? I'll show you. Watch!"

Unfortunately the giggly cordial had got the better of her. Storm tossed a redcurrant high and missed it completely. It bounced off Foremole's head and lodged in the ear of Treerose, who was feeling tired and sulky.

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"Whahaah! I've gone deaf in one ear. She threw something at me!"

Foremole flicked the offending redcurrant out onto the gra.s.s. Taking up a great spoonful of otter's hotroot soup, he held Treerose's nose and poured it down her open mouth.

"Yurr, missie, 'ee doant eat vittles boi stickin' 'em in 'ee earlugs. Daown thy mouth et should be a-goen, loik this, liddle missus."

Treerose was not heard to complain again that night. She was too busy pouring cold water down her throat to kill off the taste of the otter hotroot soup, which it was said could thaw out an icy river in midwinter.

Most of the eating was now over, and speeches began. Abbot Bernard thanked the Friar for supervising the wonderful feast, also the helpers, layers of table, Gabe Quill for the excellence of the drinks and all present for attending. In response various creatures stood up to thank the Abbot, toast Redwall and congratulate their hosts. Rufe Brush called for some dancing but was silenced by an oat scone; dancing and jigging was out of the question after having eaten so much. So the singing began. Never being backward at coming forward, Tarquin was up on his paws, chewing the last of a celery surprise as he tuned his harolina. Finishing the food, he launched into the song of the long patrols.

"Oh, it's hard and dry, when the sun is high And dust is in your throat, When the rain pours down, near fit to drown, And soaks right through your coat.

But the hares of the long patrol, my lads, Stouthearts they walk with me, Over hill and plain, and back again, By the sh.o.r.es of the wide blue sea.

Through mud and mire to a warm campfire, I'll trek with you, old friend, 94.

O'er lea and dale, in a roaring gale, Right to our journey's end.

Yes, the hares of the long patrol, my lads, Love friendship more than gold.

We'll share good days, and tread long ways, Good comrades brave and bold."

Drubber mole banged his tankard upon the table amid the applause. "Gurr! That'n be a gurt ballad, bringen tears to moi eyes, it do."

Then it was w.i.l.l.yum mole's turn to get up and sing the mole song. He did it solemnly in the correct mole manner and was cheered loudly, though this time it did bring Drubber to tears. He wept unashamedly.

"Burrhoohurr! B'aint nothen loik music to soften a hanimal's 'eart."

Dandin was called upon. He rose and performed a newly written tribute to Abbot Bernard, accompanied by Tarquin on the harolina.

"Long may you rule, Father Abbot, Long may you reign over all The woodlands of Mossflower And the Abbey of Redwall.

When I was a young mouse I learnt at the knee Of the Father of Redwall, The lessons for you and the lessons for me From the Father of us all.

In those good Dibbun days, I learnt many kind ways, To be honest, strong and true, And wherever I go, I'll remember always, That I learned them, sir, from you. Long may you rule, Father Abbot, Over all of these creatures and me, And may we all say in our own simple way, Have a happy Jubilee."

Every creature present insisted on singing the song 95.

again, with Tarquin calling out the words from a scroll. It was a huge success, though Drubber broke down completely and had to be comforted by Danty and Buxton.

"Yurr now, doant 'ee take on so, Drub, owd lad. Et be on'y a song."

"Hurr aye, doant be a-sobben naow. Take moi 'anker-chiefy."

Several more singers were called on to perform. Durry Quill sang the comic song "Why Can't Hedgehogs Fly?" The otter twins Bagg and Runn recited the epic poem, "Otter Bill and the Shaking Shrimp." This led to more demand for poems, and Saxtus was finally coaxed up to recite the poem he had memorized in the gatehouse. Nervously Saxtus stood up, clasping and unclasping his paws as he began falteringly.

"The wind's icy breath o'er the land of death Tells a tale of the yet to come.

'Cross the heaving waves which mark ships' graves Lies an island known to some, Where seas pound loud and rocks stand proud And blood flows free as water, To the far northwest, which knows no rest, Came a father and his daughter.

The mind was numb, and the heart struck dumb, When the night seas took the child, Hurled to her fate, by a son of h.e.l.lgate, The dark one called The Wild.

You whom they seek, though you do not speak, The legend is yet to be born; One day you will sing over stones that are red, In the misty summer dawn."

In the silence that followed before the applause, Storm Gullwhacker gave vent to a hoa.r.s.e strangled sob, which echoed amid the startled revelers.

96.

12.

A light morning sea mist hung over the waters around Terramort Isle. The last four ships of Gabool's fleet were returning. They silently nosed into the cove, sails hanging slack, oars shipped as the oily swell carried them noiselessly into harbor. The King of Searats knew they had returned; he had watched them break the night horizon, hours before the mist started to descend. Now Gabool would need all his cunning and slyness if he were to win his Captains over completely. Saltar had never been a popular Captain, neither had his brother Bludrigg; but the fact remained, they were both Captains and he had slain them. Naturally the other four shipmasters, Orgeye, Hookfin, Flogga and Garrtail, would feel their positions threatened-they would need rea.s.suring. Once they were happy with Gabool's continuing rule, their crews would follow them into the very fangs of h.e.l.lgates. The Warlord knew all this and set his plans accordingly.

The morning remained gray and uncertain as hordes of searats marched past the rock portals into Fort Blade-girt. Gabool watched them from the banqueting hall window, voicing his thoughts aloud. "Look at 'em, the rakin's an' sc.r.a.pin's of the earth, sc.u.m from the wharves, taverns an' cellars, their mothers were bilge- 97.

rats an' their fathers were barrelsloppers. Murderers, thieves, pillagers, all of 'em. Haharr, they'd steal the very fires of h.e.l.l to keep 'em warm of a winter night and singe the Dark One's whiskers. Vermin after me own black heart. Haharrhahaharr!"

The Warlord's description fit every searat from the tip of his ragged tail to the point of his scarred nose. They were clad in motley rags, some wearing worn-out seaboots and threadbare frock coats, others dressed in the tattered silks of corsairs. Bra.s.s ear, nose and tail rings were much in evidence, eyepatches, skull bandages, missing ears and fearsome scars. But every searat was armed to the teeth; cutla.s.ses, scimitars, straight swords, sabers, claymores, daggers, dirks, bodkins, spears and pikes bristled everywhere throughout the barbaric mob.

Gabool sat grim-faced on his throne, facing the great bell. All around, the banqueting tables were piled high with food and drink; nervous slaves stood waiting, ready to serve their savage captors. The searat crews crowded in. Those who could not find seating leaned against the walls or slouched upon the floor. n.o.body touched a morsel of food. An expectant hush settled over all; the King of Searats was not his usual roaring commanding self. Claws settled upon weapons, ready to fight at a moment's notice, it was a taut and perilous situation. The Captains grouped together at one table, Orgeye of the Waveblade, Hookfin of the Blacksail, Flogga of the Rathelm and Garrtail of the Greenfang, They were joined by the masters of the three ships that were under repair, Riptung of the Nightwake, Catseyes of the Seata-lon and Grimtooth of the Crabclaw. Against these seven Gabool was facing mighty odds, their cold, quick eyes watched him mistrustingly -even Garrtail, who now had his own ship and felt equal to other Captains. The threat of instant death hung heavy in the air.

Gabool's heavy sigh broke the stillness. He stood up, slowly drawing his curved sword. He dropped it; the 98.

bright blade clattered on the floor in front of him as he pointed to the nearest rat.

"You there, matey. You've got the look of a poor old searat who don't have two crusts to rub together. What's yer name, shipmate?"

"Weltskin, sire," the ragged searat said in a puzzled voice.

Gabool nodded. "Well, you pick up that fine blade, Weltskin. My sword belongs to you now. Go on, take it, matey."

The searat Weltskin picked up the sword, his eyes shining. No common crewrat had ever owned such a weapon.

Gabool faced the a.s.sembly. Throwing his arms wide, he appealed to them.

"Aaahh, shipmates, what's it all come to? Treachery, deceit an' lies, aye, that's the sad fact, mateys. A Cap'n who scorned me, Bludrigg, an' his brother Saltar out fer revenge, who tried to slay me when I was unarmed in me own home ..."

Gabool shook his head sadly. "Aharr, bad weather 'n' black days, lads, though I knew all the time those two searobbers was plottin' against me. Still an' all, I offered 'em welcome an' vittles in Fort Bladegirt-their crews too. Why, some of you was there an' ate the same food an' drank the same drink an' saw it all happen. Base traitors they were, messmates. I'd heard them whisperin' together; they wanted it all-my island an' your ships. You Cap'ns there, aharr, I wish you'd been here to see it-you would've sided with old Gabool, I know you would. Faithfulness always has its reward."

Gabool struck the side of the bell with a drinking cup. Twenty slaves bearing chests of plunder staggered in and turned out the glittering contents at Gabool's feet. Necklaces, stones, bracelets, goblets, silks and fine weapons cascaded out across the floor in a sparkling heap. Gabool's quick eyes noted the greedy glances the 99.