Southpaw and Bobweave had been missing since the end of the Bragging contest. Grenn joined the others on the streambank as supper was served. "Are those hare twins back yet?"
Baron Drucco peered out into the darkness. "No sign of 'em yet, marm. You know 'ares, they've prob'ly gone off to some celerybrayshun or other."
Grenn looked to Mirklewort. "Celerybrayshun?"
The hogwife touched her snout knowingly. "Don't let our big words fool ye, marmDrucco means they've gone off to a party. Oh no they 'aven't, 'ere they come now."
Southpaw and Bobweave slipped into camp and helped themselves to supper.
"Sooper dooper, scones with strawberry preserve, wot!"
"An' hot mulled pennycloud'n'bulrush cordial. I say, you chaps certainly know your vittles from your vitals, eh!"
Gurth tapped his digging claws impatiently. "Did ee get yon jobs, zurrs, tell us'n's?"
The hare twins laughed, as if sharing a secret joke.
"Oh, the jobs of waitin' on table, you mean?"
"I'll jolly well say we did, eh, South?"
"Rather. That old head cook'll do absolutely anythin' for three flagons o' pale cider, wot!"
Drucco waddled angrily over to them. "So that's wot's 'appened to me fine pale cider. All three flagons! I was savin' that for me Season Spikeday!"
Mirklewort clipped one of his headspikes neatly with her ax. "Stop moanin', Drucco, yew'll wake Skiddles. Lissen, if'n we wants the 'aremaid to win we've got to make sacriphones!"
Fleetscut chuckled. "Aye, an' some sacrifices, too, marm."
Mirklewort nodded sagely. "Them, too!"
Brocktree took off his sword and lay down by the fire. "Good. I hope this plan of yours and Ruff's works out, Grenn."
Unsheathing her rapier, the Guosim Chieftain stuck it in the ground and lay down next to it. "Aye, I hope so, too. 'Tis costing the Guosim their last keg of old plum'n'beetroot wine!"
Ruff chided her. "Oh, come on, Grenn, stop whinin' about yore wine. Hoho, that's a good 'un, whinin' about wine!"
But Grenn did not see the joke. "We've carried that keg with us more seasons than I care to remember. There ain't a wine like it in all Mossflowerask any Guosim. One drop of it can cure any ailment of 'ead or stomach. It can clear up coughs, sniffles an' colds in the wink of an eye, take my word for it!"
The hare twins shared the last of the scones.
"Should do the trick then, wot!"
"Aye, provided miss Dotti knows her blinkin' lines!"
Chapter 24
Dawn arrived bright and sunny. Ruro shielded her eyes as she glanced skyward. "More like midsummer's day than the second day o' the season, what thinkest thou, Fleetscut?"
"Goin' t'be what we hares call a bloomin' scorcher, marm!" The old hare turned to Dotti as she walked with her friends to the Feasting challenge. "How d'ye feel today, young miss? Chipper, wot?"
The haremaid's reply was summed up in two fervent words. "Flippin' famished!"
Fleetscut stared at her sympathetically. "I know exactly what y'mean, miss. But remember, pace yourself. Don't go wallowin' in there an' scoffin' like a gannet in a ten-season famine. Cool an' jolly well calm, that's the ticket for you, m'gel, cool an' calm."
The crowd had already gathered around the arena, but they parted to allow Dotti's party to enter the ring. Bucko was already there, surrounded by supporters. His minions had spent most of the night planting tales of provocation, enlarging the insults to their king until it appeared to the gullible ones that he was the injured party.
A table with two chairs was laid in the center of the ring, bare save for two plates, two goblets and cutlery. Bucko was already seated, and Dotti took her place at the table's far side. Bucko tilted his chair back onto two legs and smiled sarcastically.
"Och weel, here the lassie is. Better late than never, eh? Don't weep, nowah willnae raise a paw to ye, pretty one. But mind, ah'm wise tae all yer wee tricks noo, ye ken?"
Dotti shook out a clean kerchief, of which she had brought a goodly supply to use at table. She greeted him civilly. "Good morrow to you, sah. I hope you're in good appetite."
"Dinnae fret yersel', lassie, ah could eat every morsel yon servers put up for both of us. Aye, an' still go hame an' enjoy mah dinner!"
Dotti carefully wiped the rim of her goblet, not looking up. "You can? Oh, that is nice to know, sah!"
Further conversation was curtailed as the bankvole referee entered the ring, followed by a line of servers pulling trolleys laden with food and drink. His considerable voice had lost none of its volume.
"Hearken to me! H'attend all creeeeeeatures! Toooooday is the Feastin' challenge! Choice of vittles is left to the contestants, h'as is choice of drinks! No wastin' of fooood h'or drink by spittin' out or throwin' h'away. Theeeeee contest will take place until sunset, h'or until one or t'other contestant is unable to finiiiiiish! Let the Feastin' begiiiiiin!"
The servers began loading food onto the table. Southpaw set lots of salad, both fruit and vegetable, on Dotti's side, and winked furtively at her.
"Good luck, miss!"
Bobweave tapped the keg of plum'n'beetroot wine, filled Bucko's goblet and came around to serve Dotti. The haremaid covered her goblet with a paw.
"I'll take water or cold mint tea, if y'please. That wine looks far too jolly strong for me."
Bucko swigged from his goblet and smacked his lips. "By the mountain rocks, that's a guid drop o' stuff! Ach, a shame et's too jolly strong for the wee lassie, but ah'm a King o' Hares, an' naething's tae strong for Bucko!"
He piled salad, a wedge of cheese and an onion-and-leek turnover on his plate, and dug in eagerly. Dotti could tell that he, too, had been fasting. She piled salad on her plate and forced herself to eat at a normal rate, though the ten chews per mouthful routine that her mother had enforced at home was too much for her.
Bucko quaffed his wine and signaled for a refill. With lettuce leaves, watercress and scallions hanging from his mouth corners, he gulped the lot, waving his fork at Dotti. "Nibble away there, pretty missie, ah'll show ye the way a king eats. Mmmmff! This is braw wine, suits me fine! D'ye not fancy a dram of et, mah pretty?"
Dotti dabbed her lips with a kerchief. "No thank you, sah, I prefer mint tea."
Bucko held his goblet daintily and mimicked her. "I prefer mint tea, sah! Ach, away wi' ye, ye wee fuss-budget. Here noo, watch how a wild March hare warrior eats!"
He bolted down the wedge of cheese, tore apart a warm rye farl, stuffed it in his mouth and washed the lot down with another goblet of wine before attacking his turnover. Dotti was so hungry, after nearly three days, that she almost did likewise. However, she checked herself at the last moment, allowing Southpaw to serve her some sliced apples.
By midmorning Dotti was still maintaining her sedate pace, though she had eaten a latticed pear tart, some gooseberry crumble with meadowcream topping, two plates of vegetable salad and a plate of fruit salad. Which was only about a quarter of what King Bucko Bigbones had downed. His supporters were yelling encouragement, egging him on.
"Ye show her how 'tis done, sire!"
"Aye, scoff her under the table, Yer Majesty!"
Bucko dug his spoon into a steaming apple sponge pudding. "Ah'm verra partial tae apple sponge. Here, server, brang me yon pitcher o' custard so ah can pour et over this!"
In the crowd, Jukka murmured to Drucco, "Keep silent now. Don't encourage her to eat fastleave that to yonder bigboned fool."
Drucco could not help shaking his head in admiration. "By the spike, that longear king can scoff, though, no doubt about that. The beast's a glutlet!"
"Yew mean 'e's a blutton, ain't I right, Ruff?"
Ruff nodded, knowing it was useless to argue. "Correct, marm. Look, Bucko's callin' the referee over!"
The officious bankvole listened as the king registered his complaint. "Ah'm fair sweatin', ye kenyonder sun's beatin' doon on mah heid like a furnace. Can ye no brang me a sunshade?" The referee went to the ringside and consulted with several other pompous-looking bank-voles. After much paw-waving and arguing, the huddle broke up and he returned to the table.