Blind Simeon smiled. "Well done, young Dandin. You're just the type of mouse Redwall Abbey needs. One day when the Abbey is fully built and completed, who knows, you could be our next Abbot."
Dandin wrinkled his nose, not too pleased with the idea. Abbot Bernard laughed heartily.
"No Abbotship for you, eh, young rip? It's easy to see that you come from the line of Gonff the Mousethief. I wish that Martin the Warrior had left ancestors behind."
Simeon held up a paw. "Maybe he did, my friend
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not direct descendants, but spiritual ones. Martin was a Warrior and the founder of Redwall; his presence is all around us in these very stones. I have never talked with a creature whom I felt was actually touched by Martin's spirit, but then we have never needed such a one in this time of peace. However, I feel that one day before my seasons have run, I will meet some creature whose life has been touched by the shadow of our Warrior."
Rufe Brush looked up from a plate of hazelnut cream and apple pie.
"Not on a night like this you won't, Simeon. Listen to that rainstorm. Any creature out on a night like this must be drowned by now."
Simeon was about to answer when he suddenly turned his face aside and clasped a table napkin to his nose.
"Whaaaw! Somebeast's eating wild garlic!"
A fat mole named Burgo several places down with a clothespin fitted snugly upon his nose was tucking into a big basin with a spoon. He waved a paw at Simeon.
"Burr, nor c'n oi stan' the smell o' garleck. Oi do dearly luvs the taste of it tho'. 'At's whoi oi keeps moi snowt pegged! Garleck woild soup! Nuthin' loik et, zurr."
Amid the laughter that followed, Dandin turned to Rufe Brush.
"By the fur, Rufe, that rain sounds as if it were trying to knock our Abbey down. You were right, anybeast out in this must be well drowned by now!"
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3
Fort Bladegirt stood at the edge of the high rocks which towered above Terramort cove, the big window of its banqueting hall facing out to sea. It had a courtyard and a high wall which ran around its perimeter where the ground was open, though part of the actual fort building integrated with the outer wall where it overhung the cove. The entire structure was built from solid rock with heavy wooden doors at the entrances both to the fort and courtyard. On three sides it was overlooked by hills. Gabool the Wild had taken it as his by right; indeed whoever owned Bladegirt was absolute King of Searats, as long as he could hold it. Inside the fort chaos and misrule were the order of the day. Corsair rats left their ships to come ashore after long plundering voyages. They made their way to Bladegirt in droves, leaving their ships at anchor in the cove. Roistering, fighting, gambling and drinking, the searats enjoyed their shore leave after the hardships of a life at sea.
In the high banqueting chamber Gabool sprawled on a carved rock throne, which he had made more comfortable by covering it with the skins of his slain enemies. He stared with loving fascination at a great bell dominating the center of the floor; monumental in its size the prize stood, reflecting the torchlights and
revelry through its burnished sheen. Copper, silver, brass and gold had been used in its casting. Heaving himself up, Gabool strode forward, sword in one claw, a chalice of wine in the other as he traversed the perimeter of his greatest prize. Grinning like a child with a new toy, he tapped his swordblade against the marvel-ous bell; the soft musical note vibrated gently like a giant harp strummed by the wind. As he walked, Gabool's restless eyes roved up and down, from the strange figures embossed around the top to the intricate words ranging around the wide base of the great bell.
Gabool was puzzled as to their meaning, but they were pretty decorations which made his prize all the more fascinating to look upon.
"Blood 'n' thunder, Cap'n. Give it a good belt an' let's hear it ring out!" A burly drunken searat named Halfnose pulled a wooden cudgel from his belt and thrust it toward Gabool. With lightning speed the Warlord grabbed the club and crashed it down on Half-nose's skull, at the same time landing a thrusting kick into the drunkard's belly, which sent him reeling into an open cask of wine. Halfnose slumped across the wine, his head submerged. Gabool roared with laughter.
"Drink or drown, seascum. Nobeast comes near Gabool's bell!"
The carousing searats shrieked their appreciation at his joke. Gabool pointed at Halfnose with his sword.
"If he ever gets out o' there, give him a cup of wine t' revive him."
This caused further merriment, except from the table where Bludrigg, Captain of the ship Greenfang, sat with his mates. Though Gabool laughed as heartily as the others, Bludrigg had not escaped his notice. Everyone was laughing, but not BludriggBludrigg the surly, Bludrigg the argumentative, Bludrigg the trouble-causer, the seadeck lawyer. Gabool watched him
closely. Bludrigg, who could sense the scheming mind behind his King's false merriment.
Things between the King of Searats and his Captain had been building to a head for a long time; Gabool decided to settle accounts with Bludrigg now. Gulping wine from the chalice and allowing it to spill freely into his beard, Gabool pretended to stagger drunkenly. He winked in a friendly manner and thrust his. sword point down into a chest of booty. Tottering over to the table, Gabool banged the half-empty chalice down in front of the Greenfang's Captain.
"Bludrigg, me old matey, c'mon, drink up!"
Bludrigg' s face was sullen as he thrust the chalice aside.
"Don't want no wine. I can drink all I want aboard me ship."
All around the hall they stopped drinking, singing and gambling; an air of expectancy settled over the searats. Gabool blinked, as if trying to shake off the effects of the wine, and swayed slightly.
"Food then. Can't have my Captain starvin'. Roast meat, fruit, fish, sugared preserves? Here, bring m' friend Bludrigg some vittles."
Bludrigg's swordclaw fondled the hilt of his sheathed scimitar.
"Leave the food, Gabool. I eat well enough."
Gabool sighed, shaking his head as if in puzzlement. He sat next to Bludrigg and threw a comradely claw about his shoulders.
"Hmmm, no wine, no food, no smile on me old shipmate's face. What d'you want then, bucko?"
Bludrigg shook Gabool's claw off. He stood upright, knocking the chair over behind him, his eyes blazing with suppressed rage at the drunken Warlord.
"I want my share of the plunder. There's been none from the last three sailings. I'm tellin' you, Gabool, I want my portion of the booty an' I'll have it tonight, come hell or high water!"
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From around the packed hall there were murmurs of agreement. Gabool spread his arms wide and smiled.
"Blow me down! Is that all? Why didn't you say so sooner?"
Bludrigg was lost for words; the expected clash had not come. Now he felt slightly foolish in front of his crew. He shrugged, mumbling halfheartedly; he tried excusing himself as if he were complaining on behalf of his searats.
"Well, I never thought. . . . It's just that my crew were startin' to complain, they thought you'd forgotten us ..."
Gabool looked injured. He went over to the chest of booty, where his sword stood upright amid a heap of armlets, goblets, baubles and shiny stones. Drawing forth the sword, he turned one or two items over with its point until he found what he sought. Gabool flicked the sword up as a shiny gold coronet studded with gems slid along its blade.