Doogy and Ferdimond shook paws as best they could. The young hare grinned lopsidedly. “Sorry for what I said about you, old lad. I was wrong. You, sir, are a true flippin’ warrior!”
Doogy attempted a wink, but both his eyes were swollen. “Och, yer no’ sae bad yoreself, matey. ’Twas all mah fault, ye’ll have tae excuse me for bein’ so touchy, ye ken!”
Holding each other upright, they staggered into the stream to the accompaniment of hurrahs and backslapping.
“What a go! Well fought, you two!”
“Here’s to two perilous beasts, wot!”
“Rather, that scrap’ll go down in Long Patrol annals!”
“Aye, never seen one like it in me blinkin’ life!”
Tam squatted by the fire with Wonwill. “Haha, just look at Doogy, wipin’ Ferdimond’s nose. They seem happy enough now, eh Sarge?”
The old veteran smiled. “Like the Brigadier said, better’n seein”em carved to death by swords. A good ’ealthy boxin’ match h’is just the ticket for clearin’ the air, Tam!”
Crumshaw, who had joined them, sniffed the night air with relish. “Only one thing better’n the smell of a streambank on a springtime evenin’—skilly an’ duff for supper, wot wot!”
Corporal Butty Wopscutt, assisted by the haremaids Folderon and Flummerty, were cooking away industriously. Tam took in the savoury odour from the cooking fire. “Hope it tastes as good as it smells, sah.”
Crumshaw stirred the fire with his swagger stick point. “Young Wopscutt’s the finest cook we’ve ever had, a real treasure, that ’un. An’ he ain’t put off by those pretty gels! By the way, Tam, that comrade o’ yours, Doogy wotsisname, quite a game feller, put up a superb fight. I’ve a feelin’ we’re goin’ to need chaps like him before the season’s out.”
Tam watched Doogy and Ferdimond splashing in the stream. “Aye, yore right there, sah. Goin’ up against the Gulo beast an’ his vermin, we’ll want good warriors to conquer beasts who are so savage that they eat their enemies!”
12
On the morning following the moles’ celebratory supper, young Burlop Cellarhog was up and about his duties before Abbot Humble awakened. Burlop busied himself in the cellars, selecting a new barrel of October Ale. Having found the one he had marked out, the young hedgehog upended it, single-pawed. He began knocking a spigot through the centre bung so the liquid could be tapped. Humble emerged from his bed in the corner, fastening the waist cord of his habit.
The stout young Cellarhog touched his headspikes apologetically. “Father Abbot! I’m sorry, did my noise wake you up?”
Humble stifled a yawn, smiling at his protégé. “Certainly not, Burlop. I merely slept a bit late after last night’s mole supper. What a pleasant evening it was, eh?”
Burlop gave the spigot a final knock and set a tankard under it. “ ’Twas most enjoyable, Father, though the moles and our creatures finished off a barrel of the October Ale. I’m just replacing it. Would you care to taste a sip?”
He stood back respectfully as Humble sniffed round the barrel staves, tapping his paw on the lid several times and then listening, as if for an answer. Burlop always deferred to his Abbot’s expertise. Humble turned the spigot tap, allowing a measure of ale to gurgle forth into the tankard. He spilt a drop on his paw and held it up to a lantern, checking on its colour and clarity. Burlop looked on anxiously as the Abbot took a sample mouthful.
The old hedgehog rolled the ale round his palate, then swallowed it slowly. Beaming happily, he smacked his lips. “Excellent! Marvellous judgement, young Burlop! Of all the October barrels within our cellars, you could not have chosen a finer one!”
Burlop bowed low, allowing his spikes to stand up and then letting them fall back flat several times—the typical hedgehog way of receiving a great compliment. “Thank you, Father. I learned all I know from you, and I’m always ready to heed your wise counsel.”
Humble gazed fondly over the top of his spectacles. “I wouldn’t trust my cellars to any hog but you, friend. Now, what was I about to do, eh?”
“Go up to breakfast perhaps?” Burlop suggested helpfully.
The Abbot scratched his chinspikes reflectively. “Hmm, yes, but there was some other business also. Ah, I remember now! I’ve got to get Brother Gordale, my cousin Jem and old Walt together. Today we begin trying to solve the rhyme puzzle. If anybeast comes looking for me, please tell them I’ll either be in the kitchens or the orchard.”
Burlop helped Humble with his overcloak. “Certainly, Father.”
Humble stared around the kitchen passage at those being served with breakfast. None of the three he wanted was there.
Sister Armel, the pretty young Infirmary Keeper, approached him cheerfully. “Good morning, Father Abbot. Are you looking for somebeast?”
Humble accepted a plate of hazelnut and honey turnovers from Friar Glisum absently. “Er, good morning, Sister. Have you seen Gordale or Jem or Walt about?”
Armel put aside her tray. “No, but I’ll soon find them for you. There’s quite a few still abed after last evening’s festivities. I’ll give them a call.”
Humble began loading up his tray. “Oh, thank you, that would be a help. Tell them I’ll have breakfast set up in the orchard. We’re supposed to be solving that rhyme puzzle today, you know.”
Sister Armel’s big brown eyes lit up. “May I help you, Father? I’m very good at puzzles.”
Humble chuckled. “Of course you can, pretty one. A young head might prove a welcome addition to us elders.”
The orchard was carpeted with pink and white petal blossoms, shed by the many apple, pear, plum, cherry, damson and almond trees.
Brother Demple, the mouse who was Abbey Gardener, put aside his trowel as he saw Humble approaching with a heavily laden tray.
“Good morning, Abbot. Doesn’t our orchard look pretty today? Here, let me help you with that tray.”
Humble willingly allowed the sturdy mouse to assist him. “Thank you, Brother Demple. My word, I didn’t realise one tray could be so heavy. There’s breakfast for three there.”
Demple took up the tray. “Thank goodness for that. At first I thought it was all for you, Father!”
He guided Humble to a sunny corner where he had set up a potting bench. “Friends for breakfast, eh? What’s the occasion?”
Humble sat on the bench alongside the tray. “We’ve arranged to try and solve a puzzle.”
Demple rubbed his paws together eagerly. “I love a good puzzle. D’you need any help?”
The Abbot smiled, eager to accept such a ready offer. “By all means, be my guest—the more the merrier. Ah, here they come now.”
Gordale arrived with Walt and Jem. Slightly behind them came Armel, with Skipper’s niece Brookflow. The fine, strong ottermaid had brought along an extra tray piled high with more food. Brookflow, or Brooky as she was known to all, was a jolly creature, possessed of an infectious laugh. Carrying the heavy tray on one paw, she waved with the other.
“Yoohooeeee! I heard there was a riddle t’be worked out, so I worked myself in. Is it alright if I join these other duffers, Father? Hahahaha!”
Humble raised his paws in mock despair. “Come on, you beauty, come one come all! Soon we’ll have everybeast in the Abbey here!”
Breakfast was shared out, as there was plenty for everyone. In the middle of it, Humble smote his forehead and groaned. “Sister Screeve has the written copy, and I forgot to invite her along. What was I thinking of?”
Yet even as he spoke, Screeve entered the orchard waving a parchment, the one she had recorded the rhyme on. “Friar Glisum told me you’d be here, Father. Hope you’ve not started without me!”
Brooky giggled into a scone she was demolishing. “Teeheehee! How would we manage that? I think old Screeve’s gone off her rocker. Teeheeheehee!”