The Rogue Crew (45 page)

On the Abbey's walltop, the fire was still burning a red-gold warning against the night sky. However, it was a somewhat diminished blaze, owing to Ding Toller's rationing of wood. Foremole Roogo had his back to the comforting warmth.

Dorka Gurdy noted the blissful look on his face. “Wot'll ye do when winter comes, huh, a-warmin' yore back agin' that fire on a warm summer night?”

Foremole wrinkled his velvety snout, chuckling. “Hurrhurrhurr, Oi do loike a foire ennytoime, marm, be it warmish or cold. Boi 'okey, 'tis a gurt feelin'!”

Fottlink had been dozing against a battlement. His head drooped forward, bumping against stone. He righted himself quickly, remembering he was on guard duty, then peered north up the path. The mouse Recorder became instantly alert. “Look, the vermin ship's moving!”

Abbot Thibb, who had been resting on the north steps, came running. “Moving, did you say? Which way?”

Those on guard, the Abbot included, hurried to see. Dorka Gurdy shielded her eyes against the firelight. “Well, I never. They must've built some sort o' bridge, 'cos the vermin are pushin' it o'er the ditch!”

Ding Toller hissed, “Get down, everybeast down! We don't want 'em t'know we can see wot they're doin'!”

Everybeast crouched below the wall, leaving Ding to spy on
Greenshroud.

“The ship's over on the western flatlands now. They're hoistin' the sails. Wot d'ye think, Father, are they goin' away?”

Abbot Thibb scratched his ears. “I hope they are, friend, but who can tell? What are they doing now?”

The tall, sombre squirrel reported. “So that's how they got over the ditch—six logs made into a bridge. Now they're bindin' 'em t'the ship's sides an' takin' 'em along. All the vermin are back aboard. I can see that Wearat at the tiller. I tell ye, it does look odd t'see a ship sailin' along on wheels.”

Dorka Gurdy prodded Ding's back. “We know that! Which way's the ship bound?”

Ding pointed. “Straight into the west. She's only goin' along slowlike. There's nought but a breeze to help 'er. But there she goes. It's safe enough now. See for yoreselves.”

Heads popped up all along the west walltop. Foremole Roogo shook a clenched paw after the vessel. “Goo orn, away with ee, durty ole vermints. Burr aye, an' doan't ee cumm back yurr no more!”

Friar Wopple came trundling up the stairs; the old vole was in a panic. Thibb helped her onto the ramparts. “Friar, what is it?”

The good cook was quite out of breath, but she did the best she could to explain. “I . . . I . . . was out in my liddle'erb patch behind the Abbey, pickin' some fresh mint for brekkist tea, y'see. Then I 'ears noises from outside. There's creatures in the woodlands at the east wallgate, Father!”

Dorka thumped her rudder hard on the stones. “I knowed those rascals was up to somethin'. I could feel it in me whiskers, I swear I could!”

Fottlink grabbed her paw. “What d'ye mean, marm?”

The ottermum snorted, “A trap, a trick, that's wot I mean. That great scummy Wearat was tryin' to makes us think he'd sailed off. But he's split his crew. I wager there's a gang o' the murderin' scoundrels tryin' to break in the back o' the Abbey whilst we're all watchin' the front wall!”

Ding Toller looked grim. “Aye, that makes sense. Good job ye heard 'em, Friar. I'll sound the bells an' raise our creatures!”

Abbot Thibb halted him. “No, wait. Our bell sound carries a long way. The Wearat could hear it. Knowing we're wise to his plan, he'd come back and attack us, maybe at the south wall, where there isn't a fire burning.”

Fottlink waved his paws in agitation. “Oh, dear, what'll we do?”

Thibb did not hesitate. “We'll sneak over to the east wall and see how many vermin there are. Once we know that, I'll be able to put some sort of plan into action. Come along, all of you, but go quietly as you can.”

They crept off in a bunch along the north walltop. As they neared the northeast gable, Fottlink gave a squeak of alarm. “There's somebeast on the battlements yonder—a rat, I think!”

An indignant voice hailed them. “Rat yoreself, old mouseyface! Don't ye know a Guosim Log a Log when ye see one?”

Dandy Clogs hopped nimbly from the battlements and swaggered up to meet them. “Has everybeast at Redwall got moss in their ears? We've been knockin' on that liddle wallgate for long enough!”

Chuckling with relief and joy, Thibb held out a welcoming paw. “Guosim! Thank the good seasons for that. Do ye have some of your warriors with you, Log a Log?”

Dandy clasped the outstretched paw warmly. “Oh, I've got a couple o' Guosim with me, but our bunch is mainly a load o' Long Patrol hares an' Rogue Crew sea otters. They've only come along 'cos they've heard o' Redwall's fine vittles, so ye'd best warn yore cook. Right now ye'd do well to open that small wallgate, afore Skor Axehound decides to take his battleaxe to it!”

Abbot Thibb was ecstatic as he saw the warriors crowding in through the wickergate. Captain Rake performed a smart salute with his blades. “Ah'm Captain Rake Nightfur, commandin' a score o' Long Patrol fighters frae Salamandastron. This is mah companion, Skor Axehound, Chieftain o' the Rogue Crew from the High North Coast. We're at your service, mah friend!”

Thibb waved his paws excitedly. “Let's not stand on ceremony, Captain. I'm Thibb, Father Abbot of Redwall, but I'm sure we'll all become acquainted soon enough. Right now I'm sure you'd much sooner be enjoying our hospitality at supper. How does that sound?”

Any reply Rake made was drowned by enthusiastic cheers. Abbot Thibb found himself hoisted onto the brawny shoulders of Ruggan and Big Drander, who bore him swiftly forward.

“Point the way, Father, an' send somebeast to warn the cook!”

Dorka Gurdy spotted Uggo. She ignored his spikes, giving him a fond hug. “Well, well, look wot the wind blew in. Have ye brought my brother Jum back with ye, Uggo?”

The young hedgehog shook his head. “No, marm, but last time I saw Mister Jum 'e was well enough. I 'spect he'll turn up sooner or later. This is my friend Posy, but she ain't a Wiltud.”

Dorka smiled. “She's far too pretty for that. Yore a lucky young beast, Uggo. Well, come along. I 'spect yore all ready to take a bite o' supper.”

All the Redwallers, even the Dibbuns, who had been wakened by the din, flooded into Great Hall to mingle with the new arrivals. Extra help was brought into the kitchens, and more trestle tables were laid out.

Rogue Crew and Long Patrollers, who were experiencing their first visit to the Abbey, were overwhelmed by the sheer size and grandeur of the place. Friar Wopple soon had helpers scurrying out, filling the boards with food from their trolleys. Everything was in a glorious state of organised chaos.

Abbot Thibb had a quiet word with Ding Toller, who carried the cloak-wrapped form of young Swiffo off to rest temporarily in the entrance chamber of the belltower. Thibb seated himself in the Abbot's chair, with Rake and Skor sitting either side. Silence fell over the gathering as Thibb rose and recited a special grace.

Skor raised a tankard of best October Ale. “Thankee, Father, I'll drink to that!”

Then supper commenced in earnest.

Huge summer salad, garnished with hazelnut and chestnut cheese, sage- and thyme-crusted bread, leek and onion soup, mushroom and carrot pasties in gravy. Followed by plumcake and sweet arrowroot pudding with blackberry sauce, latticed apple tarts, mixed fruit turnover and meadowcream. All was washed down with a variety of drinks. October Ale, hot mint tea, dandelion and burdock cordial or rosehip and elderflower water.

Whilst they dined, the Abbot listened to their journey account, then brought them up to strength on the latest news of Razzid Wearat and the
Greenshroud.

Rake held a short conference with Skor, then issued orders. “Sergeant Miggory, Ruggan Axehound, Ah'd be obliged if ye would take a score of our braw lads tae guard the walls. They'll be relieved throughout the night. Ah want ye tae pay special attention tae the westward plain. Let us know if the vermin ship is sighted anywhere aboot!”

Thibb placed his paw on Skor's huge mitt. “I was sorry to hear about your young son, Lord. Is there anything we can do to aid you in this matter? Please don't take offence at our simple offer.”

The sea otter Chieftain stared at the tabletop. “No offence taken, Father—I'm grateful to ye. My son was more a creature of peace than war, but Swiffo was a fine young un. Is there a place to bury his body within your Abbey walls, somewhere quiet?”

Thibb nodded. “Indeed there is. Just behind the belltower there's a peaceful spot shaded by an old yew tree. I'll make arrangements with our bellringer for tomorrow.”

Some of the Dibbuns were curious as to who old Drogbuk Wiltud was. He pointedly ignored them as he stuffed his face with food. Guggle the squirrelbabe was trying to peer inside the garb which Pinny had tailored from the vermin cloak.

“Pardin' me, but wot sorta h'aminal are you?”

Drogbuk pulled his outfit closer to his spineless frame. “Go 'way, ye nosey liddle wretch!”

Murty molebabe chuckled, wrinkling his snout at Drogbuk. “Oi'm thinken you'm a blizzard or ee toadybeast, zurr!!”

Kite Slayer took Murty on her lap, allowing him to nibble at her plumcake. “Nay, liddle un, he's only a daft ole 'og wot's lost his spines, ain't ye, Drogbuk?”

The ancient hog was reaching for a tankard of October Ale when Fottlink rescued it, pushing a beaker of cordial forward. “Drogbuk, eh? I recall that name—you'd be a Wiltud, the one who's been banished twice from Redwall.”

Dorka Gurdy wagged a paw at Drogbuk. “I thought I recognised ye, old un. Well, ye can stay, but keep yore rovin' paws off vittles that ain't yores an' no ale or strong wine, either. I'll be watchin' ye!” Dorka turned her wagging paw upon Pinny. “An' you too, marm. Yore a Wiltud. One false move whilst yore at our Abbey an' out ye'll go!”

Posy smiled winningly at the big ottermum. “Oh, Dorka, don't shout at Miz Pinny, please. She's a nice, kind Wiltud.”

Dorka sniffed. “Aye, missy. Well, she's yore responsibility from hereon. Keep 'er out of trouble, y'hear!”

Friar Wopple was called from the kitchens, shuffling her footpaws. She took a bow amidst the rapturous applause afforded her by the new supper guests.

“I say, marm, well done. Top-hole vittles, wot!”

“Aye, we ain't got scoff anythin' like this up on the coast!”

“Indeed, marm, any chance o' givvin' us some of your recipes, 'specially the one for that jolly nice pasty with the gravy? That'd perk up some o' the lads back at the mess in Salamandastron, eh, wot!”

Wopple smiled shyly. “Wait'll ye taste my breakfast tomorrow.'Twill be a treat for hearty eaters like yoreselves.”

This prompted further cheers from the trencherbeasts.

Later that night, when the guests had been shown to Cavern Hole, which was to be their sleeping quarters, a conference was held by those still at table.

Lieutenant Scutram allowed the Abbot to replenish his tankard. “So, what d'ye make of all this kerfuffle with the Wearat an' his vermin, eh, Father?”

Thibb pondered the question before answering, “Well, as I've already told you, I think my disguise as Martin the Warrior, plus the bonfire we built on the walltops, was enough to put the vermin off attacking us. Now, earlier tonight, they went away, out across the flatlands. We're rather hoping they've left for good. But I'm sure you know more about the ways of vermin, so I'd value your opinion, friends.”

Skor Axehound growled flatly. “They'll be back!”

Captain Rake nodded his agreement. “Aye, Ah doubt ye've seen the last of them, Father. Razzid Wearat didnae come all this way tae turn tail an' run awa'. Skor's right, he'll be back!”

Fottlink licked his lips nervously. “But when?”

Sergeant Miggory replied, “When yore least h'expectin' it, sah—that's the way with vermin murderers. We've h'already seen 'is work at Salamandastron.”

Rake gripped his beaker so tightly that the earthenware cracked. “Aye, an' we're lookin' forward tae the return engagement, Father, so Ah'd be grateful if ye'd leave the business of bloodshed tae me an' Skor!” He said it with such a coldness in his voice that the Abbot felt his fur tingle.

Thibb nodded. “Just as you say, Captain, but my Redwallers will be here to offer you any help you require.”

Skor patted his back fondly, knocking the wind from Thibb. “Thankee, Father, but you look after yore liddle uns an' keep our beasts in drink'n'vittles—that's all we ask of ye!”

Dawn broke calmly, with ascending larks trilling beneath a sky awash with pale pastel hues. Out on the flatlands, grasshoppers set up their rusty chirruping as varicoloured butterflies flitted silently around the soft blue forget-menot, bright gold tormentil and pinky cranberry blossoms skirting the ditchside.

Lancejack Sage viewed it all from the threshold battlements, commenting dreamily, “Jolly pretty, ain't it, wot!”

A stern voice in her ear startled her to attention. “You h'aint up 'ere to sniff the flowers, missy. Yore supposed t'be on watch for vermin. Now git those lovely eyes workin'. Do yore duty an' don't let me catch ye nappin' agin, or yore on a fizzer!”