The Sable Quean (49 page)

Vilaya tried to put on an extra spurt of speed, which she actually did for one brief interval. Then it was as if she was moving waist high through water. She had run out of breath; her pace began flagging. Devoid of energy, she felt her adversary’s hot breath on the nape of her neck. Quick as a flash she loosed her long silken cloak. It billowed out and fell, catching the badger’s footpaws, snarling her up so that she stumbled.

Ambrevina felt her balance go. Automatically, she threw herself into a headlong leap. She collided with Vilaya’s back, sending herself and her quarry thudding to the ground. Being on top, the badgermaid was first up. Swinging her loaded sling, she hefted the sable with a footpaw, turning her over.

The Sable Quean’s face was tight with horror. She gasped, “You . . . you’ve killed me!”

Her paw clasped the crystal poison holder and the lethal blade which it sheathed. It had broken and pierced her chest. Vilaya could smell the sickly aroma of serpent venom as it oozed around the wound. Her eyes blazed hatred at the badgermaid standing over her.

“Y-you . . . k-killed . . . the Sable . . . Quea. . . . !”

Ambrevina saw Vilaya’s body contort once, twisting like a corkscrew. It went stiff; she died like that.

Flandor, the young friend of Ambrevina Rockflash, had been avenged. She turned and walked away without a backward glance, blinking as the sunlight shone into her eyes, mingling with her tears.

 

Redwall Abbey’s twin bells, Matthias and Methuselah, boomed out a warm brazen message of peace over Mossflower Country. In the aftermath of a temporary breakfast, with the promise of an afternoon feast, Redwallers and their allies flooded joyfully out into the Abbey grounds.

Buckler, Jango, Oakheart and Skipper accompanied the Abbess, gathering on the gatehouse steps to deal with current matters. Marjoram looked to Buckler for assistance.

“First there’s the problem of your friend Diggs. Where do you think he’s gone? Maybe you can organise a search party. He could be anywhere in the Abbey, even in the grounds. Very odd, him going off like that.”

Buckler did his best to sum up the situation. “Aye, marm, I’ll arrange a search locally. As y’say, it is odd, but Diggs was acting strangely after his head wound, as you saw. But I don’t care if he thinks he’s some old officer.” Here Buckler chuckled. “Colonel Crockley Sputherington, wasn’t it? Huh, Diggs is Diggs, basically—he can take care of himself. An’ as for not wanting vittles, he’ll show up faster’n a scorched frog as soon as his stomach tells him it’s dinnertime. Leave the problem of Diggs t’me, marm. Now, what next?”

Oakheart held up a paw. “What’s become of our two friends, the real heroes of the battle, Ambrevina an’ Axtel? They seem to have disappeared, too.”

Jango did not seem unduly worried. “There’s a pair that don’t need any lookin’ after. I pity any score o’ vermin wot gets in their way, mate.”

Skipper nodded agreement with his Guosim friend. “Right, matey. Ambry an’ Axtel are two fearsome warriors. They’ll come back if’n they feel like, but if they wants to wander an’ travel, well, fortune be with ’em both, an’ may the sun shine warm on their paws.”

The gatehouse door opened. Big Bartij strode out, wielding a shovel. He was followed by Foremole Darbee, plus a procession of moles, all suitably geared out with picks, shovels, hoes and rakes. Darbee gave orders to his crew.

“Go ee an’ foind summ wheelybarrows. They’m prol libly bee’s in ee h’orchard. Discuse oi, marm, us’ns gotten wurk t’be dunn!”

Marjoram shook her head in wonder. “I didn’t know that many creatures could fit into our little gatehouse. Must’ve been quite a crush in there!”

Bartij tugged his headspikes respectfully. “Oh, it was, marm, but we’re all about our tasks now. We’re goin’ to open the gates an’ clear that pile o’ rubble away. Then there’s the lawns an’ flower beds t’be set right an’ proper agin. One thing me’n the Foremole can’t abide is untidy Abbey grounds!” He strode off without awaiting a reply.

The Mother Abbess’s smile lit up the summer morn. “Right, that’s one problem we don’t have to worry about! Shall we adjourn to the walltops and keep out of their way?”

Trajidia Witherspyk, who was already on the ramparts with Flib, sang out shrilly, “Ahoy, below, I see two creatures approaching from afar!”

After a moment’s pause, Flib called, “It’s Ambry an’ Axtel. She’s carryin’ him on ’er shoulders.”

Shortly thereafter, a Guosim crew went racing out to meet them. The shrews were carrying a stretcher, on which Axtel was placed, despite his protests. Flib commandeered the warrior’s war hammer, granting herself the honour of carrying it back to the Abbey. Sister Fumbril met them at the south wallgate, shaking her head at the mole.

“Mister Axtel, sir, wot’ve I told ye about travellin’ on a wounded footpaw? It’ll never get better at this rate!”

Axtel Sturnclaw treated the Sister to one of his rare grins. “Oi’ll take ee h’advice then, marm. Frum naow on, oi’ll goo everywhere by stretcherer. These yurr shrewbeasts’ll carry oi. B’aint that roight, mateys?”

A groan of despair arose from the Guosim bearers. Axtel was no small wispy beast.

Not expecting to find Diggs within the Abbey, Buckler had organised a party of Redwallers to search the building. He was in the upper dormitories when he accidentally bumped into Clarinna. She was slipping out of the Infirmary with a bundle on her back. The young hare halted her progress.

“Good day t’ye, marm. Forgive me, but I didn’t get time to thank you for savin’ my life. It was a brave thing you did, slaying Zwilt.”

She curtsied, trying to get past him. “I only did what I saw as my duty. You were the one that acted bravely. Now would you stand aside, please?”

Buckler stayed where he was, indicating the bundle. “Where are you going in such a hurry, and what’s in there?”

He saw her jaw tighten. “I’m going to get my babes, Calla and Urfa. I know they’re safe, but they’ve been gone for so long. They need me—please, let me go!”

Taking the bundle, he set it down. “But you haven’t the faintest idea of where to go. You’ll be lost before you get far. Listen, I’ve got to find Diggs, he’s missing. But if I haven’t found him by tonight, then tomorrow noon I’ll take you to get the babes myself. Ambrevina will come with us. She knows exactly where she and Diggs left them. That’s on my oath as a Long Patrol Warrior. Agreed?”

Clarinna nodded. “Agreed. Come on, I’ll help you to search for Diggs.”

Late afternoon shadows were lengthening when the Abbess went to the orchard. Friar Soogum was there, supervising the feast preparations.

“Mother Abbess, d’you think this’ll do?”

Marjoram clapped her paws in delight. “Oh, Friar, it’s perfect. What a feast this will be!”

The table linen was spread upon the orchard grass, with pretty blossom arrangements decking the fruit trees. Lanterns hung, ready to be lit by evening. Casks of strawberry fizz, October Ale, dandelion and burdock cordial and jugs of mint tea or pennycloud brew were placed in the tree shade. Scones, tarts, pies and pasties were there in abundance, alongside trifles, broths, oven-baked breads and delicate almond wafers. The entire effect was magical or, to quote the Abbess, “the setting for an evening’s delicious enchantment!” And it really was just that.

Glowing from their day’s chores and tasks, everybeast trooped into the orchard. Early evening twilight was enhanced by lighted lanterns of pink, gold, blue and green, circled by fluttering moths of varied hue. Over excited Dibbuns were issued with beakers of strawberry fizz and warned to keep a modicum of silence whilst the Abbess said grace.

Decked out in her best pale-fawn habit, belted with a spotless white cord and sporting a small circlet of woodland flowers round her brow, Marjoram recited the special words, penned earlier that day by her friend Granvy.

A tiny squirrelbabe held up his beaker. “I drink to dat!”

Laughter echoed round the orchard as they fell to in earnest. Skipper blew on a bowl of his favourite freshwater shrimp’n’hotroot soup, winking at Buckler. “D’ye think all this scoff might tempt ole Diggs out from wherever he’s stowed hisself?”

The young hare picked up a slice of greengage tart. “Well, if he doesn’t, I’ll wager he’s at least three leagues away, the great lard barrel!”

Clarinna passed a long cheese’n’hazelnut roll to Ambrevina. “It was kind of you to say you’d accompany Buckler and me tomorrow. Thank you so much!”

The badgermaid accepted the offering with a nod. “I’ve seen your babes, marm, Calla and Urfa. Two charming little creatures. I can see why you wish dearly to be reunited with them. My pleasure!”

Baby Dubdub sprayed crumbs about as he spoke through a mouthful of honeyed scone. “My pleasure! My pleasure!”

Oakheart beamed over the rim of his October Ale tankard. “The babe’s learnin’, Dymphnia. Did y’hear that? A real actor in the makin’, a true Witherspyk!”

His wife brushed crumbs from her apron, then wiped Dubdub’s face with a corner of it. “Indeed, Oakie. I just wish he wouldn’t practice his lines at mealtimes.”

Jango speared a hunk of cheese with his blade. “I’ll come along with ye on the morrow, Buck, just for a walk, chance to stretch me paws, eh!”

Flib was over her war shock now. She winked at Jango. “An’ I’ll toddle along with ya, Pa, t’make sure ye don’t get into any trouble!”

Axtel had joined the molecrew in seeing off a huge cauldron of the mole’s speciality, deeper’n’ever’turnip’ n’tater’n’beetroot pie. He held up a piece in his paw. “Oi’ll goo with ee, zurr’n’marms. Thurr may bee’s vurmints a-lurkin’ in ee wuddlands. Oi’ll give ’em ole billyoh!”

Marjoram put on a face of mock despair, managing a wail. “If any other beast volunteers to go, there’ll only be me left behind here!”

Friar Soogum poured a tiny crystal goblet of elderberry wine. “Here, marm, drink this—you’ll feel better. Don’t fret, marm. I’ll stay here with ye. I’ll make a special liddle supper, just for me’n’you. We’ll sit up in the belltower an’ share it. Oh, an’ more o’ this fine wine, eh!”

Trajidia Witherspyk fluttered her eyelashes at the Friar. “I never said I was deserting this beautiful Abbey. Will you find room for a young un like me at your table, oh, kind and handsome Friar, sir?”

All those who heard Soogum mention the special supper suddenly expressed a fervent desire to remain at Redwall.

“Er, me, too, please, could I come?”

“Hurr, an’ oi h’also. Oi carn’t walk too furr wi’ moi paws!”

“An’ can I bring a few of the Dibbuns? They’d enjoy a treat, bless their liddle paws!”

‘I’d like t’come, too, but only t’keep an eye on the babes!”

Marjoram waved her paws, miming alarm. “Stop, stop. We’ll never get you all into one belltower!”

In the softly lit orchard, the sound of woodlanders laughing drifted up to the starry night sky which had now cloaked Mossflower.

 

It was high noon of the following day. The sun hung like a burnished gold medallion in the cloudless sky. Abbess Marjoram was on the path outside the newly cleared west gate. Other Redwallers were with her to wish a hearty goodbye to the travelling party. Friar Soogum and his kitchen helpers fussed around the group, passing out haversacks of food and drink.

The good Friar’s constant worry in life was that anybeast would not have enough to eat. He pressed a further package upon an already overloaded Clarinna. “Just some dainties, candied chestnuts an’ crystallised fruits, for your little uns, marm. Oh, an’ I slipped in two small flasks of best pear cider—babes always like that.”

The Abbess was forced to intercede on behalf of those leaving the Abbey. “Friar, you’ve provisioned them handsomely, but that’s quite enough now. Any more and they won’t be able to move. Buckler, are you ready to go?”

Adjusting the shoulder straps of a huge haversack, the young hare managed a quick salute. “Ready, marm! Ambry, Axtel, Jango, let’s march!”

With Buckler and Clarinna following Ambrevina, and an escort of twenty Guosim backed up by Jango, Axtel and Flib, the column moved out, going south down the path. The remaining Redwallers cheered them on their journey.

Skipper shouted out, “Come on, Buck, mate, get ’em goin’ with one o’ yore Long Patrol marchin’ songs!”

Buckler promptly obliged with an old parade-ground air, which could be speeded up or slowed down to accommodate the marchers. They soon picked up the rhythm, as it was not a difficult song.

Axtel wound a spotted kerchief around his mouth.

“H’it bee’s ruther dusty marchin’ at ee back!”

Once they were out of sight from the Abbey, Ambrevina turned off into the woodland. Buckler shepherded them across the ditch, patting backs and mouthing words of encouragement.

“Well done, mates, a nice little walk so far, eh?”

Unused to his parade-ground pace, they were all quite breathless. Flib was heard to mutter, “Huh, a nice liddle walk fer you, y’great lankypaws!”

Buckler glared at the shrewmaid. “What was that, miss?”

Axtel, who had grown rather fond of Flib, placed a heavy digging claw on her shoulder. “She’m just sayin’, zurr, that moi ole h’injured paw b’aint wurkin’ vury gudd.”