The bee buzzed, vibrating its tiny wings. Phredd pointed a bony paw at it. “Oh, that’s easy for you to say, my friend. But the curtains have been ripped, the cupboards flung open and the bed linen will have to be scrubbed twice before I use it again. Thrice, even!”
Carrul reassured his old friend. “Don’t worry so! Stretch your paws and enjoy being outdoors in our own Abbey again. We’ve time aplenty to put everything right, Phredd—the remainder of summer and all the autumn.”
Foremole Dwurl and a crew of his worthies trundled up to the table. The mole tugged his snout in respectful salute. “Me’n moi moles’ve cleared opp all ee gurt ’eap o’ rubble wot was blocken ee h’Abbey door h’entrence, zurr. Et bee’s ready furr use naow, arfter they’m scrubbed ee wuddwurk daown!”
Carrul beamed gratefully at the Foremole. “Well done, Dwurl, come and have some more breakfast. There’s lots of it left here, do help yourselves.”
Dwurl and his molecrew, needing no second invitation, fell to with a will.
“Thankee, zurr. Much h’obliged oi’m shurr!”
Toran and Martha came running across the lawn. The ottercook called out, “Gangway, make room there, mates, two more ’ungry workers comin’ in for second brekkist!”
Carrul indicated two spaces either side of himself. “Well, what have you two been up to? I haven’t seen you since first serving at dawn.”
Martha cut herself a slice of fruitcake. “Unblocking the windows in Great Hall, Father. Brother Gelf says he’s got extra panes in the attic storeroom. The Dibbuns have gone up there to sort them out with him.”
Foremole Dwurl looked up from his mushroom pastie. “Hurr, better’n sennin’ they’m likkle villyuns into ee h’orchard to ’elp wid ee fruit’n’berries. Hurr hurr, they’m loike to h’eat umselfs sick afore sundaown!”
Sister Setiva was next to put in an appearance. “Och, ye should see the state o’ yon dormitory, it’s no fit for worms tae crawl in. Ah’m goin’ tae need some bonny helpers tae make et habitable again. Martha lassie, have ye seen that braw badger taeday?”
The haremaid shook her head. “No, Sister, last beast to see him was Granmum Gurvel. He took a few scones from the kitchen and hurried off. Wonder where he’s gone?”
Toran supplied the answer. “Lonna said he’d sworn to wipe out all the Searats. A few of ’em escaped yesterday by the wallgates. I saw ’im fillin’ up his quiver, an’ waxin’ that big bow, after we left the walltop last night. I thought better of askin’ ’im where he was bound.”
Martha poured pennycress cordial for the ottercook. “I don’t blame you, mate. Lonna can flare up like lightning. If and when he returns, I won’t be pressing him about where he’s been. I pity those Searats, though. If it were me, I’d have let them go. They’ve learned their lesson, and a hard and bloody one it was, too!”
Old Phredd spoke to a bowl of oatmeal he was finishing. “Ah, but Martha isn’t him, is she? Big badger warriors like that are different from anybeast. If he swore to wipe out all those Searats, well that’s just what he’ll do. Every one of them, down to the last rat!”
The last rat was, in fact, running for his life, out on the western flatlands. His tongue lolled from one side of his mouth as he looked over his shoulder at the distant figure of the avenging giant. Lonna was standing still, a long distance away. The Searat stopped as well, collapsing in a heap, his limbs wobbling and trembling uncontrollably. Then he bared his stained fangs at the sky and laughed breathlessly.
“Haharrharr . . . Done it! Can’t get me now, stripedog . . . Outta yore range now . . . I escaped ye . . . stripedog!”
The big badger grunted with exertion as he leaned down on the bow, bending it so that he tightened the string by taking another loop around the end of the thick yew wood. He shed his quiver. Going through the arrows, Lonna selected one. Then, holding it to his eye, he peered down the shaft to check that it was straight and true. Spreading both footpaws, Lonna gripped the ground firmly, wetted his upper lip and raised his head to feel which way the breeze was blowing. Satisfied, he looked toward the Searat, gauging the distance. Then he placed the shaft on his bowstring and drew back. The string was resting against one scarred ear, the bow strained in a mighty arc to its full capacity. After glancing once more at the distant Searat, Lonna elevated the bow slightly skyward and let fly.
The Searat rose upright, waving his sword at the tiny figure out on the flatlands. “Outran ye, stripedog! I beat ye, didn’t I?”
A distant, blood-curdling cry answered him. “Eulalillllaaaaaa!”
The arrow came like a thunderbolt out of the blue.
Lonna strode out to view his last work of vengeance. Spread-eagled on the coarse grass, the Searat lay faceup. His eyes were wide open, staring at a sun that he would never see again, the long arrow standing out from the centre of his forehead.
The badger gazed down at the last rat of Raga Bol’s once mighty crew. “Nobeast can outrun Lonna Bowstripe’s arrow. Nobeast!”
Unstringing the bow, Lonna placed it lengthways across his broad shoulders, resting his paws on the weapon. Turning his back on the Searat, he strode east through the high summer midday to Redwall Abbey.
Night had fallen as the travellers neared the great gorge. They were weary after marching since early morning that day.
Bragoon called a halt within a short distance of the rim. “We’ll take a breather, but without any fires. Eat’n’drink wot ye need, ’cos we’ll be leavin’ the rest behind.”
Horty slumped down gratefully. “I say, what’s the point of leavin’ bloomin’ good scoff here? Silly if you ask me, wot!”
The otter spoke in a low voice to the three young ones. “Keep yore voices down ’til we’re on the other side o’ that gorge, mates. I didn’t like the place last time we crossed it, an’ I likes it even less now. We’ve got to travel fast’n’light when we crosses that big tree trunk, so keep yore wits sharp!”
Saro had the rope. She tied a short, thick piece of wood crosswise to one end of it. “Those broken staves we stuck atop o’ the other side should still be in place. If’n I throws it right, this chunk o’ wood will lodge atween ’em, an’ we can climb up sharpish.”
Springald cast a worried glance at the pair. “You two don’t like that gorge one little bit, do you? Don’t fret, we’ll cross it as quick and quiet as you like.”
Saro tested the knot she had tied around the wood. “Aye, you do that, Spring. I’ll be in front of ye, an’ Brag’ll bring up the rear. Just do as yore told, an’ everythin’ will be alright. I don’t like that gorge any more’n Brag does. That place has a bad feel to it!”
Fenna’s voice was small and shaky as she tried to make a joke. “Don’t worry about us. We’re young and we’ve got a lot to learn, but we’re willing to listen to experienced old fogies.”
Grasping her paw, Bragoon smiled in the darkness. “That’s the spirit, missy. Right! Up on yore hunkers, mates. Let’s get ye safe back to Redwall.”
Drawing the sword of Martin from behind his shoulder, the otter led them off toward the rim.
Horty took one rueful glance at the small heap of provisions on the ground, then uttered a small sigh. “What a flamin’ waste. Ah well, this is it, chaps, off we jolly well go!”
The edge of the chasm loomed up, sooner than they had expected. Saro found the same boulder she had used on the previous trip. Making a wide loop in the rope’s free end, she placed it about the big stone, lowering the end with the wood attached into the gorge below. Bragoon went first. Climbing carefully, he reached the ledge in front of the three cave entrances. He held the wood, so that it would not clack against the rock wall. Springald came next, followed by Horty, then Fenna. Saro was last to descend. She flipped the rope deftly, catching the end as it unlooped from the boulder and dropped down.