Mokkan lay back and closed his eyes, the sunlight making him almost invisible as it dappled leaf patterns down upon his body. "Don't worry, you'll have your revenge tonight on the Redwallers, a much quicker vengeance than your idea of all-out war."
Chapter 10
Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop had decided that the best thing for creatures going into action was to inspire them with a stirring ballad. Accordingly he kitted himself out in a heroic toga, brandished a floppy sword and glared at his audience ferociously through a monocle with no glass in it. The Redwallers sat about in a semicircle by the Abbey pond, while Florian pranced about on the water's edge and treated them to a rendition of "The Battle for the Final Crumpet." Roop, the mole, accompanied him on a small accordion and Runktipp sang the refrain. Florian scowled savagely at a few tittering Dibbuns as he launched into the opening lines of the song.
"Oh 'twas on the umpty-ninth of spring,
When a duck blew on a trumpet,
I led me army from behind,
To the battle of the final crumpet.
Some wore boots an' some wore clogs,
An' some wore big long faces,
An' two fat moles fell down with colds,
Before we'd marched ten paces. "
At the battle of the final crumpet,
I very near lost me life,
When I got punched upon the nose,
By a big bad hedgehog's wife.
Then all broke out in mutiny,
When a mouse with a mustache said,
'Lie down me lads afore they charge,
So they'll all think we're dead!'
Well there we sat while all around,
The spears an' shafts were thuddin',
A-drinkin' goosegog cordial wine,
An' eatin' cabbage puddin'.
We finally defeated them,
When the duck tripped on his trumpet,
An' I got a feather in me cap,
"Cos I ate the final crumpet!"
Florian sang the final two lines while waving his sword and dancing energetically backward for effect. He stumbled on one of his outsized boots and fell into the pond, to riotous applause. Skipper shook tears of helpless mirth from his eyes. "Sink me rudder, mates, we're in fer a lively time if'n that 'un's defendin' the Abbey tonight!"
On the walltop there was great hilarity. Song, Dann and Dippler chuckled aloud, watching the two moles, Roop and Muggle, trying to haul the ungainly hare from the pond. Friar Butty tapped the tattered volume with his quill. "Can we get back to our work, please?"
Still smiling, the three friends turned to the parchment the old Recorder had translated from the washed-out, ink-stained journal of Abbess Vale, a wise creature who had ruled Redwall in the far-off seasons. Dippler was no great scholar, and he stared at the Friar's neat rows of writing blankly. "What does it all mean?"
Friar Butty flicked the pages of the ancient book. "As far as I can make out it was written by a squirrel called Samkim in his latter seasons. He must have been a tricky creature, thoughhe wrote directions to the Great Lake in the form of a riddling rhyme. Listen to this.
"At the rear of redstone wall,
Find me o'er where breaks the day,
You cannot, shall not walk at all,
Just follow as I run away.
Discover the speechless hidden mouth,
Alas, my friends, our ways part there,
Go down green tunnel, bounden south,
Through trees with blossoms in their hair.
Then when the sky show s blue and light,
And clear down to the bed you gaze,
Be not deceived by rainbows bright,
Beware tall stones and misted haze.
Leaping boiling, stealing breath,
None can stand against this might,
Which sweeps the traveler down to death,
In caves of grim eternal night.
And should you live to seek the lake,
Watch for the fish of blue and gray,
Betwixt those two's the path you take,
Good fortune wend you on your way!"
Dippler scratched his fur beneath the weighty chain-mail suit. The young Guosim shrew was still puzzled by the cryptic words. "Sounds pretty enough, but I still ain't got a clue, mates."
Friar Butty smiled at Dippler's inexperience. "Fiddley dee, young feller, you'd be the wisest creature around if you did. Riddling poems are not written so that we may solve them at a glance, right, Song?"
The pretty young squirrel nodded as she scanned the verse. "That's correct, Friar. We need to study this thing hard, take it a line at a time and concentrate upon the words."
Dann settled his chin on both paws, staring hard at the puzzle. "Hmm. By the look of it this doesn't mention any-thin' about Marlfoxes."
Dippler struggled out of the chain mail, which had finally become too uncomfortable for him. "Maybe it doesn't, Dann, but it might lead us to know 'em better- where they come from, why they made such a journey, an' so on."
Friar Butty patted his young friend's back heartily. "Well said, Dippler! I think you've the makings of a great scholar."
Accompanied by Log a Log and some of his shrews, Janglur and Rusvul were collecting together all the serviceable weapons they could lay paws upon. Carrying bags made from old curtain drapes, they approached the gatehouse, where Cregga had told them there was a cupboard full of disused armaments. Suddenly, Rusvul stopped so sharply that Janglur almost collided with him. Log a Log looked at the warrior squirrel, who was glaring grim-faced at the walltop.
"Rusvul, wot's the matter, matey?"
Ignoring the shrew Chieftain's question, Rusvul shouted angrily, "Dannflor Reguba, what'n the name o' blazes d'you think yore playin' at up there?"
Still sitting poring over the writings, Dann waved cheerily down to his father. "We're tryin' to solve a riddle. 'Tis all about that isle on the great lake an' how t'get there."
Rusvul slammed his javelin point hard into the ground. "A warrior who's put on guard duty should be doin' just that, guardin' the walltops! Not foolin' about with games!"
Janglur cautioned his friend in a quiet voice. "Go easy, mate, Dann's still only a young 'un."
But Rusvul's unpredictable temper allowed no margin for reason. "Supposin' the foebeast launched an attack on the east wall while yore sittin' foolin' about on the west wall, what then?"
Friar Butty hastily bundled up the rhyme and passed it to Song, who stowed it in her tunic as all four stood up. The Friar spread his paws wide, bowing slightly to the party below. "You mustn't blame them, friends, 'twas all my idea. I thought that young fresh minds would help me with my investigations."
The burly shrew Fenno pointed an accusing paw at Dippler. "Hah! Might o' known he'd be part o' this. Remember wot 'appened to our logboats when he was supposed t'be guardin' 'em, eh?"
Fenno found that he could say no more, because Log a Log's rapier point was beneath his chin, forcing his head back. The shrew Chieftain spoke calmly. "Who asked yore opinion, loudmouth? Keep out o' this or I'll pin yore big tongue t'that liddle thing y'call a brain!"
Song tried to calm things down by addressing her father. "We really were guarding the walls. It was only when lunch arrived that we took a little break and had a look at the Friar's rhyme."
Janglur Swifteye winked lazily at his daughter. "I ain't complainin', missie. I felt good'n'safe down below in Cavern 'Ole while you an' yore pals stood sentry up there." He shrugged and nudged Rusvul playfully. "Wasn't you ever young yoreself, mate? Come on, let it be. Dann's a fine son, just like my Song's a good daughter. We should be proud of 'em."
But Rusvul would not let it be. He pointed an accusing paw at Dann. "A guard's a guard an' a warrior's a warrior, not some kind o' dusty scholar. More so if yore name is Reguba. That's a title to live up to, son, always remember that!"
A voice boomed out behind them. "Stop all this! I will not have arguing and bad feeling within these Abbey walls!" Cregga Badgermum strode up, with Skipper at her side. The big otter stood forward and spoke for her.
"Log a Log, put up yore blade, mate. 'Tis against RedwalTs rules of 'ospitality to draw steel agin' another while yore a guest 'ere. An' the rest of you, 'ear this. If you got any grievances while yore at Redwall Abbey, then the council of elders'll sort 'em out. All must live in peace 'ere without arguin' or fightin'. So settle any differences or ferget 'em. Show an example t'the young 'uns, eh?"