Mariel Of Redwall Part 22

"Burr aye, a-snoren like hinfant 'ogs, us'n's wuz, marm!"

Saxtus was coming from the dormitory with a scroll he had been studying. As he crossed the Abbey lawn he witnessed a strange incident. A whoos.h.i.+ng noise in the air caused him to look up. He saw what looked like a small comet of fire with a rope tail. It soared upward, mounting high into the blue, then dropped toward earth, plummeting like a stone. The young mouse mentally charted its course and yelled aloud: "Sister Serena, look out!"

Saxtus was rus.h.i.+ng toward the south steps as he shouted. Serena, not knowing what the alarm was, immediately did the thing closest to her dutiful instinct: she flung herself upon the three Dibbuns sitting on the lower step, s.h.i.+elding them with her body. Hurtling through the air, the blazing rock, bound around with oil-soaked gra.s.s, shattered on the step where Serena had been sitting. Friar Alder gasped with shock as a sliver of rock cut his face and a heap of burning material landed on his spotless white ap.r.o.n. Creatures disturbed from their meal dived for cover, beating at smoldering garments and ducking the flying shards of rock that ricocheted from the stone wallstairs.

Saxtus beat at Sister Serena's habit. Luckily it was only scorched, and the Dibbuns she had protected were shocked but unharmed. Farther over to the center of the Abbey grounds, another fire-swinger shot out of the sky and burst on the winding gravel path, showering splintered rock and flame across the lawn. Saxtus, Flagg 242.

and the Abbot dashed about, roaring out warnings at the top of their lungs.

"Under cover, everybeast. Quick!"

"Inside the Abbey. Hurry!"

"Get those Dibbuns inside!"

Saxtus and Flagg ran upstairs. Rufe Brush was already there. Notching an arrow to his bow, he aimed in the general direction of the grinning, jeering crew of searats standing on the flatlands around a fire. Rufe gritted his teeth, drawing the bowstring back to its limit.

"Sc.u.m, I'll wipe the smiles off your dirty faces!"

The arrow fell miserably short, causing further merriment among Graypatch and his crew. Saxtus, Flagg and Rufe stood watching as Deadglim dipped a fire-swinger into the fire; it flared up instantly. The searat began swinging it in clockwise circles alongside his body. Faster and faster it swung until it was like a blur of light. He let it go and off it sped like a rocket, out and upward.

Flagg could only stand and watch as it whooshed by overhead. He followed its course. Luckily it shot straight into the Abbey pond, extinguis.h.i.+ng with a splash and a hiss. The big otter took the bow and arrows from Rufe.

"Here, matey. I'll put one across their bows!"

Flagg was a powerful fully grown male otter. He drew back the shaft to its point and let fly at Graypatch.

Again the arrow fell woefully short. Flagg grabbed a spear and hurled it with all his considerable strength. It did not even go as far as the arrow. Saxtus tried his slingshot. It went farther than either the spear or the arrow, but still not far enough. On the flatlands the searat crew howled their derision, dancing and jigging as they screamed out insults at the Redwallers.

"Yah country b.u.mpkins, what's up? Can't y'throw?"

"Here, mousy, fire an arrow at me. Haharr!"

"Couldn't hit a crab in a pail. Hohoho!"

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The three defenders watched helplessly as another fire-swinger came roaring over. This one had been thrown by Bigfang. It hit the partially finished bell tower, setting light to the wooden-frame scaffolding.

Saxtus hurried from the wall. "We'll have to organize fire-fighting crews!"

"Aye/' Flagg agreed miserably. "Those things they're chuckin' have twice the range of any of our weaponry."

It was midafternoon. The Dibbuns would normally have been playing outside, racing around the orchard, paddling at the pond's edge, or frolicking on the lawns. Now they had to stay inside the Abbey building. It was a hot dusty afternoon and they were becoming fractious.

"Wanna go ou'side. Gonna play inna pond!" "You come back here this instant, young squirrel!" "Oi wants to sit in 'ee orchar'. 'Tis wurm in yurr!" "You'd be a lot warmer if one of those flaming things. .h.i.t you. Now lie down and take a nap. That'll cool you off if you lie still."

"I'm lyin' down, an' I'm still roastin'. When's tea-time?"

"Not for a while yet. Now be good!" "Burr, oi wantser be naughty, oi loiks 'aven a liddle naughty now 'n' agin. 'Tis noice."

A fire-swinger hit the main Abbey door with a loud crash, and the Dibbuns broke into startled squeaking. Mellus distributed candied chestnuts as she rea.s.sured them.

"Hush now. It's nothing. Saxtus and Flagg will deal with it."

Graypatch tore at the roasted meat from the fire. Grinning wolfishly at Kybo, he winked.

"This is the life, eh, messmate! A whole Abbey at 244.

our mercy an' n.o.beast to stop us. Ahoy, Ranzo. Any more of these skylarks skylarkin' round?"

Ranzo fitted an arrow to his bow, squinting upward. "Leave it till evenin' Cap'n, they start to come down then."

The searat sprawled on the gra.s.s in the warm summer noon. "Aharr, this is a land of plenty, not like those cold northern isles." He stuck an apple on a stick and began toasting it.

Bigfang came to the fire to light another fire-swinger. Graypatch leaned close and whispered in his ear, "Brains, Bigfang. That's what it takes-brains. You leave the thinkin' to old Graypatch, matey. I'll guarantee they'll want to talk terms by this time tomorrow."

Bigfang held his silence, determined not to rise to Graypatch's bait. He would wait to settle their score.

Evening brought no change in the situation. The fire-swingers poured in with perilous regularity, each one coming from a different angle to land in an unexpected place, according to the mood of the searat that hurled it. Tired and red-eyed from fighting conflagrations which had sprung up all over the Abbey grounds, Saxtus and Flagg with their fire crews sat drinking cold mint tea, awaiting the next fire-swinger attack. Rufe Brush and his sentries on the west wall shouted warnings at the approach of each missile.

"Hiyo the grounds, fire coming in high and north!"

They dashed over as the incendiary missile appeared at the north end, Sister Sage calling out, "It's. .h.i.t the north wall wicker gate. Quick!" Stumbling and tripping in the dark, they reached the blaze and began beating the flames down with wet sacking and green boughs. It took a while to defeat the blaze as they were bone-weary and dog-tired.

"Hiyo the grounds," Rufe Brush's voice called out once more. "One coming in dead center, right over me!"

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The fire-fighters. .h.i.tched up their habits and began das.h.i.+ng off in the direction of the main gateway. Saxtus tripped and fell flat. He rested a moment with his scorched face against the gra.s.s. A rapping sound caused the young mouse to look up. He gazed around in the darkness quizzically. There it was again. Saxtus stood up and investigated the noise further. It was coming from the wicker gate. Now there were voices.

"Y'don't suppose they've bally well gone to bed, wot?"

"Hardly, old chap. After all, they are under invasion, y'know."

"Imagine sleepin' through a fire-swinger attack. Whoohahahahooh!"

"Please, Rosie, don't laugh so close to me poor old ear, it's jolly well deafenin'. In fact, don't gurgle at all if y'can help it, old gel. Just think happy thoughts, eh."

"Oh come off it, Clary you old bodger. If I didn't have a good hoot now and again I'd prob'ly swell up an' burst!"

"Hmm, no such blinkin' luck, wot?"

"Oh, whoohahahahooh! You are a card, Brig Thyme."

Saxtus unbolted the wicker door. Searats didn't laugh like that!

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In the fading eventide light the four travelers breasted the big hills to find themselves confronted by a breathtaking sight. A long rocky beach lay beneath them. Lapping up to the sh.o.r.e, the rippling waves broke in a dark blue cascade, glittering red as the setting sun caught the sea, turning it to an iridescent green midway, which faded to purply black on the horizon. The huge crimson half-circle sank slowly in the west, throwing up gold and umber shadows on the undersides of long cloud layers with cream tops. Dandin and Durry had never seen the great waters before. They stared at the magnificent spectacle, awestruck by the immensity of sky and sea.

Durry sat down on the hilltop, spreading his arms wide. "I've seen the Abbey pond and that stream wi' the pikes a-swimmin' in it, but this . . . 'tis too much fer one poor lad's eyes to take all in."

Dandin could add nothing to the truth in his friend's simple words.

They descended to the sh.o.r.e and found that what looked like a rocky beach from above was a ma.s.s of tall stone outcrops which gave them the sensation of wandering through a mazelike canyon.

Tarquin glanced up at the huge blockform monoliths.

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"We'll camp somewhere hereabouts for the night, wot?"

"Ye'll be washed away by the night tides if ye do!"

A fat old dormouse had appeared from nowhere. He stood smiling at them over the top of his quaint square eyegla.s.ses. "My name's Bobbo."

Tarquin bowed with the old-fas.h.i.+oned elegance common to hares. "Pleasant evenin', Bobbo. Allow me to introduce us ..."

As Tarquin went through the formalities, Mariel quietly a.s.sessed their new acquaintance. The dormouse was quite old and plump; he carried a k.n.o.bbly stick which he leaned heavily upon; his garb consisted of a faded velveteen longcoat, tied about the middle with tough dried seaweed; all in all a curious character. His homely eyes twinkled behind the gla.s.ses as he wagged his stick up at a towering rock close by.

"Weary travelers all, come ye up to my abode. Follow Bobbo, if ye please."

He was such a friendly, harmless-looking old character that they followed, reeling instinctively that somehow they could trust him.

The dormouse's house was a sizable cave set high in the rock, and they made their way to it up natural ledges which formed a stairway in the stone.

A cheerful sea-coal fire illuminated Bobbo's home; the walls were hung with homemade fishnets and odd-shaped pieces of driftwood sculpted by sand and tide; rush mats scattered about served as seats, and delicious odors wafted from a black stockpot set on a tripod over the fire. Bobbo took a ladle and stirred the contents of the pot.

"It's only shrimp-and-sea-cabbage stew with a few turnips thrown in, but ye be welcome to share it."

He issued them with deep scallop sh.e.l.ls and bade them help themselves.

Durry nearly sat on a small yellow-throated newt, 248.

which scampered fearfully away to a ledge at the back of the cave. It sat watching them, eyes blinking, throat pulsating. Bobbo strained some of the cooked shrimp from the pot and placed it on the ledge beside the newt.

"Take ye no heed to him, wayfarers. He fell from yon hilltops at high tide and was washed here by the sea waters. I named him Fid. Though he never speaks to me, he's a grand listener, aren't ye, Firl?"

The small newt blinked and began eating. Bobbo drew them each a drink of cloudy liquid from a gourd he kept hanging near the entrance, where night breezes kept it cool.

"'Tis dandelion flower and wild-barley water. The plants grow plentiful on the hillside. Do ye like it?"

Durry took a long draught from his sh.e.l.l bowl. "By 'ecky! Most afres.h.i.+n'. My old nuncle Gabe would dearly like t' know how you brew this, Mr. Bobbo. Would y'tell me how to make it?"

The dormouse added more sea-coal to his fire. "All in good time, Master Durry. 'Tis a long night and I've sat alone here many a season, longing for the sound of another voice. But first, let me tell you how I came to this place, then you can tell me all about yourselves and your long journeys from the good homes you left."

Outside, the tide washed in through the rock canyons, swis.h.i.+ng and hissing as it threw spray against the walls of sea-scoured stone. The wind made a hollow moaning dirge of its night pa.s.sage through the flooded maze. High in the safety of the dormouse's den the four travelers sat in comfort, listening to him. The high-toned singsong voice causing them to blink and nod around the fire as Bobbo's uncomplicated tale unfolded.

"Ah me, 'twas more seasons ago now than I do remember, a winter's night, and there was I, chained to a galley bench in a searat s.h.i.+p. They had taken me captive when I was very young, do you see. I had no memory of parents, home or even my name; the galley bench was all I knew. Well now, didn't an awful storm 249.

spring up, a fearful thing! Waves washed over the side and flooded the galleys where we poor wretches were chained to the oars, pulling until our backs were nigh broken, whipped, starved and ill-treated. Myself was chained next to a poor weak creature, a vole who just gave up life and died, right next to me, there on the galley bench. Listen now, for I tell you true, the master of this s.h.i.+p was a searat, the blackest-hearted scoundrel who ever stepped aboard s.h.i.+p-Gabool the Wild was his name!"

Mariel's eyes came wide open, but she did not interrupt Bobbo, who by now was in full flow.

"Ah well, there was I, chained to an oar and a dead creature, trying to pull my weight with the others as we battled against wave, storm and the slavedriver's lash. Gabool came down into the galleys.

" 'Why isn't that oar workin'?' says he. 'Because one of 'em's dead/ says the slavedriver. Then Gabool says; The way that oar isn't pullin', it looks like they're both dead. Throw 'em overboard an' get two more in their place!' Now before I could call out, the slavemaster bashes me over the head and I'm in the sea, chained to the poor dead vole. What took place next I cannot be telling you for I must have pa.s.sed out. But the chains and the body of my dead oar partner saved my life, as I awoke next morning, high up on these rocks where the tide had thrown the two of us. The body of the vole was caught in a crevice. Without him I would have been washed back into the sea again, for I was hanging in my chains by both paws, high up on top of this very rock, with the sh.o.r.e far below me. When I could muster the strength, I climbed up to my dead partner. His paws were so thin and wasted that I found little difficulty slipping the manacles and chains from them. Do you know, I often wish that he had lived, for then I would have had some creature to talk with. Be that as it may, 'twas in climbing down these rocks that I found this cave.

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"So here am I, Bobbo. The vole lies buried on the green hillside-I think he would have liked that. When I had freed myself of the chains, I threw them far into the sea from the high rocks. Here I have lived a solitary peaceful life, though not without its perils. I did try to make my way inland but was lost in the swamps for many days. Lucky I was to find my way back here. 'Tis best that here I stay. Maybe one day I will teach little Firl to speak, then we can talk together."

Bobbo left off, staring into the fire.

"So then, there you have it all. Look now, I can see you are for sleeping. Lie down and rest; you can tell me about yourselves in the morning. It is warm and safe here. You will sleep well."

Tarquin, Dandin and Durry needed no second bidding, but Mariel was not tired. The mousemaid sat up far into the night, questioning Bobbo about Gabool, though the dormouse had little information to impart. He was, however, eager to hear about the travelers, so in return for his kindness Mariel did not keep him in suspense until the morrow. She related all their adventures as Bobbo sat keenly drinking in every word, with Firl making tiny snoring sounds on the ledge behind them.

The squeal of sea gulls wakened Dandin as rosy dawn banished the coverlet of night. He lay still, only his eyes moving about, taking in their new surroundings. The other three were still fast asleep. Dandin rose and stretched as Bobbo stumped in, followed by Firl, his faithful newt. The dormouse bore twigs and a full sack. "Dandin, it is a good morning I am bidding you. Look, dried applewood and sweet herbs to burn-it makes my abode smell fresh in the mornings. Now, you will find a small rockpool outside to wash in, and I will prepare wild oatcakes, small fish and gorseflower honey to break your fast."

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The young mouse grinned. "That sounds excellent to me, Bobbo. Thank you."

He was back in a short while, splas.h.i.+ng water over his sleeping friends. "Rise and s.h.i.+ne! Wakey wakey! Oatcakes, honey and fis.h.!.+ Last one washed doesn't get any!"

Tarquin sprang up, shaking himself. "I say, you sly young cad, why didn't y'wake me earlier? By the pattern on me aunty's pinny, Bobbo, that smells good!"

Morning sunlight was beginning to flood the cavern as they sat eating.

Mariel had a surprise to reveal. "You'll never guess what I learned last night while I was talking to Bobbo."

Durry licked honey from his paws and juggled with a hot oatcake. "No, marm, you're right. We'll never guess, so hurry up an' tell us."

The mousemaid recited the appropriate lines of the poem: "Where the sea meets with the sh.o.r.e, 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.

Do you remember that part of the rhyme? Well, last night while you were all snoring, I sat up telling Bobbo of our quest, and guess what?"

Tarquin dipped his oatcake in the amber honey impatiently. "Whatwhatwhat?"

Mariel smiled intriguingly from one to the other. "Bobbo knows where the swallow is!"

"I say, good egg! What a spiffin' old Bobbo you are, wot!"

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