Doogy selected a candied chestnut mournfully. “Och, are ye sure yore Martin dinnae mean me, lassie?”
Tam picked up the sword. Swinging it in a flashing arc, he clipped the candied chestnut that his friend was holding neatly in half. He twirled the blade back and forth, watching the sunlight from the window playing along its edges as it cleaved the air.
“Great seasons o’ slaughter, what a weapon! The balance and lightness, the way it fits my paw. I could face any ten vermin armed with this sword!”
Armel rapped Doogy’s paw as he reached for another chestnut. “Mr. Plumm, those are only for injured Dibbuns!”
Tergen cackled as he grabbed another from the jar. “Kraahahaa, an’ wounded birds who be not feared!”
The banquet supper that evening was a splendid affair. Redwallers sat cheek by jowl with Long Patrol hares, chattering and laughing as they did justice to the culinary triumphs of Friar Glisum and some of Burlop’s best cellar produce. The centrepiece was a huge meadowcream trifle garlanded with pink rosebuds of almond icing. Soups, dips and salads took up the border of the table. Behind them came pasties, turnovers, tarts and flans; closer in were the crumbles and cakes. As each course was completed, the dishes were removed and the next course brought forward. Burlop presided over a side trestle which was lined with drinks—from October Ale and pale cider, to cordials and squashes, with mint and fragrant herb teas. Even the ravenous hares were sated after a while, yet there was plenty left, and always new dishes being ferried in by helpers with trolleys.
A variety of entertainment was provided by numerous of the banquet attendees: a mole did some magic tricks; a trio of mousemaids danced an intricate reel, which involved weaving multicoloured ribbons into a plaited circle; then a party of Dibbuns performed a high-kicking jig, their little faces screwed up with concentration as everybeast called out encouragement to them.
During a lull when the tankards and beakers were being refilled, Tam and Doogy obliged with a sword dance from their northern home. They received great applause but had to warn some enthusiastic Dibbuns about attempting to imitate them.
Banging their tankards on the tabletops, the Long Patrol called to Wonwill and Crumshaw.
“I say, sah, how about you an’ the Sarge givin’ us a ballad?”
“Yes, give us that jolly one about Algy an’ Bobbs!”
“Aye, clear the floor there for the Brigadier an’ the Sergeant. Give order please, you chaps!”
Crumshaw and Wonwill got up, much to the delight of the younger hares. They sang an old Salamandastron barrack room ballad, waltzing about paw in paw with a dignified air.
“Old Algy an’ Bobbs an’ me,
received the official call,
to attend A.S.A.P.
at the Regimental Ball.
All togged up in our best,
weren’t we a sight to see,
combed an’ brushed an’ polished,
old Algy an’ Bobbs an’ me!
Honour an’ bow to your partners,
chaps of the Long Patrol.
Whirl’n’curl’n’twirl your tail,
as round the floor we roll.
All the pretty ladies, lookin’ for company,
an’ didn’t we oblige them,
old Algy an’ Bobbs an’ me!
Refreshments then were served,
an’ Bobbs slipped on a flan.
He bumped the Colonel’s daughter
headfirst into a pan.
Then Algy slung a pudden,
hit the Major’s bride-to-be.
An’ the Sergeant fired a crumble
at Algy an’ Bobbs an’ me!
O pass me a trifle smartly,
with a cherry on top for luck.
It smacked the Quartermaster,
he was bowled out for a duck.
Lathered in cream an’ howlin’,
‘Arrest those bloomin’ three.’
We wound up in the guardhouse,
old Algy an’ Bobbs an’ me!”
Finishing with a swirl and a flourish, the brigadier and the sergeant bowed and curtsied to hoots of applause from the rankers.
The banquet continued as Foremole Bruffy signalled to Skipper. “Ee garmunts you’m arsked for bee’s ready in ee kitching, zurr.”
Those who had been picked excused themselves and went to get kitted out. Shortly after, they emerged, clad in simple, short smocks of subdued brown and green. Their blades had been smoke-blackened over a fire by Friar Glisum.
Brigadier Crumshaw looked them over. “Stap me, ye look like a right crew o’ rogues, wot!”
Wonwill saluted. “Beggin’ yore pardon, sah, but they h’aint goin’ out for no dress parade!”
With his good arm, Crumshaw clasped his faithful sergeant’s paw firmly. “Let’s hope they come back safe, wot.”
Tam’s fifty hares took a moment to bid good-bye to their comrades and the friends they had made at Redwall.
“Well, toodle pip, old lad, an’ chin up, wot!”
“Hah, you lucky toads have got the hard job, stoppin’ back here an’ scoffin’ all that super grub, eh?”
“Aye, we’ll be thinkin’ of ye. Give ’em a few biffs for us, will you?”
Kersey, who had been sitting in the background, presented Ferdimond with Dauncey’s sling and pebble bag. “Take this along with you, and watch out for yourself.”
He bowed gallantly. “I’ll be lookin’ out for you when I come back, if I may?”
A faint smile creased Kersey’s lips. “Thank you, Mister De Mayne, that would please me.”
Armel gave Tam a small satchel. “This is a few herbs and dressings in case you’re wounded, Tam.”
He winked at the pretty squirrelmaid. “I’ll use ’em to bandage up Doogy’s mouth if he starts grumbling. Stay safe now, and don’t worry about me.”
The border warrior turned to salute the brigadier. “All present an’ correct, sah. Ready t’move off!”
Crumshaw smiled at Tam. “I knew I could count on ye, MacBurl. Right, forward the buffs, eh wot! True blue an’ never fail, that’s the ticket!”
Skipper tweaked Brooky’s nose lightly. “Behave yoreself now, missy. Don’t ye go whoopin’ an’ laughin’ an’ upsettin’ everybeast while I’m gone.”
The ottermaid hugged her uncle tightly. “Right ho, Skip. I’ll cry in the night an’ keep ’em all awake until you get back.”
Brother Gordale opened the east wickergate, patting each one on the back as they stole off silently into the night-shrouded woodlands. He bolted the door shut, remarking to Sister Screeve, who had accompanied him, “Well, there they go, luck and fortune go with them.”
The Recorder mouse shuddered, drawing her cloak close. “Thank the seasons that Redwall has such brave allies!”
22
Gulo the Savage was in a killing rage, the proof of which was laid out in front of him. Every white fox and ermine who served the insane wolverine stood in horrified awe, staring at the torn remains of the four vermin whose responsibility had been to guard the camp on the previous night. Gulo had personally killed them. He had literally destroyed all three, using only his fangs and claws. So overwhelming was his anger that he had also vented it on the carcase of the fourth sentry, the one whom Doogy had put paid to with his blade. Gulo’s warriors stood to rigid attention, scarcely daring to breathe as he prowled amongst them, berating everybeast with his increasing wrath.