Redwall!"
oo
Four ships lay ready to sail from the cove at Terramort. Captain Durry Quill stood at the helm of Waveblade, renamed Gabriel after his favorite "nuncle." Captain Tarquin L. Woodsorrel now commanded the Hon Rosie, formerly the Blacksail. Captain Dandin rested his paw on the tiller of Nightwake, renamed the Abbot Bernard. The Crabdaw had been restored to her former name,
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Periwinkle, at the wish of her new Captain, Joseph the Bellmaker. He stood proudly with Mariel and Rawnblade on her swaying deck, watching the crew of former oarslaves tying down the final lashings of the great bell. Above them a huge hole gaped in the seaward side of Fort Bladegirt, where the bell had been lowered to the Periwinkle's deck. Dark smoke curled from the breach in the fort as Rawnblade nodded his head in satisfaction.
"I've never used fire on anything in my life, but I was glad to put the torch to that evil building. It will never burn away its memory, but maybe someday in the seasons to come the wind and rains from the seas will scour its blackened stones clean."
Joseph patted the deckrail. "Good old Periwinkle. Remember when we first set sail in her, Mariel? Now we can complete that voyage and deliver Lord Rawn-blade's bell to Salamandastron, where it belongs."
But the badger Lord had other ideas. "No, friend Joseph, this bell must go to Redwall Abbey, and I will tell you the reason why. When I was down that pit with the scorpion on me I was in the grip of Bloodwrath and did not know what was going on. The creature would have killed me. However, I was saved by Martin the Warrior. It was his spirit that entered me and enabled me to act so quickly. He saved my life, so I must repay him."
Dandin touched the hilt of the sword. "Good old Martin! So it was he wrho really slew Gaboolor was it him through you, sir, or was it just a bad-tempered scorpion? We'll never know. What do you say, Mariel?"
"I say, here, take this little swallow and hang it where my father can see it. Give me your sword. You won't need it for a moment."
Armed with the sword of Martin the Warrior, the mousemaid stood high on the bowsprit and shouted her orders to the little fleet.
"Hoist anchors and set all sails! There's a running
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tide and fair wind to take us to the shores of Mossflower country and Redwall!"
The great bell gave out a mighty boom as Rawnblade struck it. The sound echoed around the headlands, mingled with the joyful cheers from hundreds of free creatures as the breeze filled the sails and carried the four vessels out onto the seas in golden summer sun-light.
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The seasons turned and autumn arrived in due course. Though Saxtus and his friend Simeon kept up their vigil on the ramparts of Redwall, there was still no sign of the returning travelers. The Abbey orchard was now in burgeoning fruitfulness, and each day the crop gatherers were busy with ladders, long poles and industrious energy as they picked and basketed the plums, apples, damsons, pears and berries of many different varieties. The kitchens were working at full capacity, cooking, preserving and storing the fruits. Gabriel Quill's cellar was also a hive of activity; cordials, wines, squashes and October ale were being squeezed, brewed and fermented. The days of autumn continued fine and warm, though darkness started to draw in earlier. Peace and plenty had returned to the Abbey; every creature was happy.
Well, nearly every creature . . .
The three little Dibbuns, Bagg, Runn and Grubb, were totally dissatisfied with their lot and feeling highly mutinous. Two, three, sometimes even four scrubbings a day were commonplace for them during harvesttime. They had been caught in different color changes by Mother Mellus and the good Sisters who cared for them, purple from blackberries, crimson from redcur-
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rants, yellow from greengages, green from gooseberries and generally filthy from climbing trees, falling into bushes, being covered in dust from the cellars, or appearing coated in oven grime and ashes from the kitchen ovens.
Besides being sent to bed early for cheeking some venerable Abbey dwellers, the three miscreants were now being instructed in sewing by Brother Hubert, so that they could repair their own ripped clothing. Hubert had also hinted darkly that they would soon be attending gatehouse school and Abbey history study.
This news was the final clincher, being met with awful scowls and rebellious mutterings, and culminating in the terrible trio swearing a deathly oath underneath a dormitory bed, where they were hiding from their latest misdeeds. They were leaving the Abbey the very next morning to seek their fortunes far afield, or as Grubb succinctly put it, "Sumplace where gurt beasties doant keep scrubben an' barthen us'ns!"
Dawn came soft and misty with warm sunlight, turning the low-lying shrouds of mist from white to pale yellow. The three Dibbuns let themselves out by the north wallgate and trundled up that path, rustling the carpet of brown leaves brought down by autumnal night winds. Each of them had a kerchief bulging with food swinging from a stick across his shoulder, and their mood was decidedly carefree as they strode out with a will.
"Wait'11 ol' Ma Mell's finds us'ns are gone. I bet she shakes 'er head an' says 'oh dearie me' a lot then, eh?"
"Heeheehee, she won't 'ave nobeast to chuck inna tub an' scrub no more."
"Hurr, oi 'spect she'll scrub Gab'1 an' Froir an' the Habbit. Serve 'em roight!"
"An' we'll be far, far 'way an' all mucky f'rever. Hahahaha!"
"An we won't go t' bed no more an' learn hist'ry off Bruvver Hoobit."
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"Burr aye, an' woant they all be a-cryen fer us. Boohoohoo, 'ee'll say, whurr be all they luwerly Dibbuns a-gone?"
"Aaahhhh, will they? Never mind, we'll come back when us'ns are big 'uns, eh?"
"Oh aye, an' we'll spank 'em all an baff'em an scoff every thin'!"
"Hurrhurr, that'll teach 'em a lessing!"
oo
Late breakfast turned into early lunch as they sat at the side of the path, telling each other what tyrants they would be when they returned to the Abbey fully grown. Suddenly Runn squeaked with fright. The three Dibbuns sat petrified at the sight of a giant armored badger who had strolled up out of the mists.
With a strange light in his dark eyes, he swung his massive sword high and placed it into the carrier straps on his back. The badger knelt down, bringing his wide-striped head close to their terrifed faces. His voice was growling, deep, but gentle as he could make it.
"Well well, what have we here, three marauders lying in wait for poor honest travelers?"
"U-u-us'ns be oanly Dibbuns, zurr."
"Dibbuns, eh? A likely story. You look more like bloodthirsty rogues to me. All right then, supposing you are Dibbuns, where are you from?"
Bagg found his tongue. "Please sir, Redwall Habbey, sir!"
Rawnblade lifted them carefully in his hefty battle-scarred paws. "Redwall HabbeyI think I may know that place. You'd better come with me. I'll soon find out if you're telling me the truth."
oo
The badger made his way through the hordes of Trag warriors eating breakfast at the side of the path. He halted by a wide flat wooden cart with a great bell upon it. The three Dibbuns sat gazing at their reflections in the burnished metal surface of the bell as they perched
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upon Rawnblade's paws, their legs swinging over the big blunt claws. Lord Rawnblade lowered them toward Dandin and Durry, winking at the two friends as he did.