Hit from behind, Brother Demple went down like a sack of cabbages. The Borderer spun him over swiftly. Clamping a paw across Demple’s mouth, he whispered urgently, “Brother, I don’t have time for idle chitchat, understand?”
Demple nodded, and Tam continued. “Has the Abbey been attacked by vermin?” Eager for an answer, Tam released his paw from Demple’s mouth.
The gardener licked his lips nervously. “Aye, they actually got inside the grounds.”
The border squirrel’s jaw tightened. “Where are they now, inside?”
Brother Demple sat up. “No, they were all slain. We buried them out on the flatlands.”
Skipper and the hares gathered around him.
“I say, good show, wot!”
“Indeed, old lad, at least the chaps we left behind didn’t spend all their time jolly well feastin’ an’ nappin’ whilst we were dashin’ round the blinkin’ woodlands.”
Brother Demple wiped drizzle from his eyes. “We helped the hares. In fact, we Redwallers actually took out quite a few of the vermin. How did you lot get on?”
Skipper helped Demple up. “Oh, we did our bit, mate, but let’s get in out of this rain. We can swap yarns over a good meal. Yore dealin’ with ’ungry beasts here!”
Everybeast came rushing into Great Hall to meet the returning creatures. Friar Glisum threw up his paws in alarm, squeaking at his helpers.
“Stoke up the oven fires, load up the ovens! We need lots of fresh bread! Extra salad, cheeses, pasties, mushroom an’ cauliflower soup, a crumble—no, six large rhubarb’n’blackberry crumbles, with sweet arrowroot sauce! Er, er, scones, extra batches of hot scones, with plum’n’damson preserve! Hurry ’em along, Murly. These famine-faced hares need feeding!”
The mole hitched up her pinafore. “Gurt seasons, get ee frum under moi paws, you’m Dibbuns. We’m got lots o’ vikklin’ t’be dun!”
Abbot Humble embraced Tam fondly. “Welcome back to Redwall Abbey, my friend. Welcome!”
“Mister MacBurl, thank goodness you’re safe and well!” Tam found himself gazing over the Abbot’s shoulder into the Sister’s gentle brown eyes.
He winked at her roguishly. “I would’ve torn down the Abbey walls t’be back here with you, Sister!”
She cast her eyes down, smiling. “Is that a compliment or a threat, Tam?”
Releasing himself from Humble’s grip, Tam bowed gallantly. “Beauty is to be complimented, not threatened, Armel. See, I kept my promise—I brought back the sword.”
She stayed his paw as he grasped Martin’s blade. “Please, keep it by you, Tam. I’ll explain later, but the Abbot and I think you’ll have need of it.”
The border warrior looked puzzled. “But why?”
Skipper was whirling his niece, Brookflow, round the floor. They both collided with Tam and Armel, almost knocking them over.
The ottermaid hooted with laughter. “Whoohoohoooo! Never mind that now. Give the pretty Sister a kiss. She’s done nothin’ but mope since you went away!”
Armel glared reprovingly at her friend. “Really, Brooky!”
The hares had begun ragging their comrades good-naturedly. The ones who had remained at Redwall were singing.
“I can’t believe me eyes, what a horrible surprise,
yore as welcome as a famine at the door.
Look what the wind blew in, all bedraggled, wet’n’thin,
an’ look at the mess yore makin’ on the floor!
Come sit down by the fire, if eatin’s your desire,
there’s not a bit o’ scoff nowhere about.
You missed breakfast, lunch’n’tea, an’ I’ll tell ye candidly,
you’ll have to call again when we are out!”
Sergeant Wonwill’s voice cut across the banter. “Nah then, you dreadful lot, fall in line an’ get down to Cavern ’ole. Clean up an’ get out o’ those rags! Cartwill, Folderon, Flummerty . . . issue ’em with their proper regimental tunics. On the double now!”
Owing to the efficiency of Redwall’s kitchens, lunch was prepared and laid out before midday. Lancejack Wilderry had brought Captain Fortindom up-to-date on the losses they had sustained, whilst the sergeant broke the news about Brigadier Crumshaw to the returning hares. But nobeast could give Tam any information about the whereabouts of his friend Doogy.
Normally Tam never worried too much about his Highland friend. He and Doogy had been separated many times in the past. However, he could not help feeling a growing anxiety about Doogy. This was confirmed as he sat down at table with Armel. She recited Martin’s words to him.
“Behold two swords and a banner,
watch out for the Walking Stone.
The brother is gone, ’tis the warrior
who must face the Savage alone.”
The Borderer looked grim. “So, is that why you told me to hold on to Martin’s sword?”
He turned to Skipper. “Do you think that Gulo is still alive, Skip? Maybe the waterfall didn’t kill him.”
The otter chieftain looked up from a bowl of shrimp’n’hotroot soup, which Friar Glisum had made specially for him. “Well, accordin’ to ole Log a Log Togey, nobeast could ride over those falls on a log an’ live. A Log a Log of the Guosim knows wot he’s talkin’ about when it comes to rivers’n’streams, mate. But who can tell? That Gulo ain’t nobeast like we’ve ever seen!”
The homecoming meal was not the jolly event Abbot Humble had hoped it would be. There was an undercurrent of sadness over lost comrades; even the Long Patrol hares seemed to lack their usual gaiety, though Hitheryon Jem noted they had lost none of their ravenous appetites.
“Hmm, they ain’t jokin’ an’ singin’ much, but those buckoes can certainly tuck the rations away. Eh, Tam?”
The warrior chuckled. “Aye, I’m a wee bit peckish myself.”
Sister Armel passed him a hot leek and mushroom pastie. “No doubt you’ve been missing our cooking.”
Tam tackled the pastie appreciatively. “I wonder some of you Redwallers aren’t as fat as barrels, eating food as delicious as this. By the way, Armel, I don’t see our goshawk Tergen around. Is he still with you?”
Armel topped up a tankard with October Ale for Tam. “Don’t mention that bird to me. He’s become very sulky and bad-tempered because his wing hasn’t healed yet. I think he also misses the Brigadier a lot, they were such close friends. I worry about Tergen, he’s taken to living in the attics above the dormitories, and he won’t talk to anybeast. We never see him at meals—I think he eats very little. He never comes to the infirmary. I think Tergen is feeling forlorn.”
Wandering Walt dug his spoon into a crumble and served himself a hefty portion. “Hurr, that ain’t apprisin’, missy. Ee burd were used to flyen’ an’ huntin’ all ’is loife, b’aint gudd t’be ee hawk wi’ a broked wing—no, marm!”
Desultory talk went back and forth over the lunch. Outside the drizzling rain continued for longer than the Redwallers had predicted. After eating, some of the hares retired to the dormitories, while others went down to Cavern Hole to nap the dull noontide away.
Whilst Sister Armel tended to the Dibbuns, Tam went outside. He roamed the walltops, peering into the misty veils of drizzle in the hope that he would spy the short, sturdy figure of Doogy Plumm returning to Redwall Abbey. But there was no sign of his Highland friend.
35
Fortune, they say, favours the valiant—though not always, for Dame Fortune is a fickle lady. Sometimes she is quite impartial to the goings-on of those in her charge and gives her favours to evil creatures.
Gulo the Savage was alive!
When the huge fallen willow tree shot off wildly down the rapids with its cargo of vermin, it was spinning about from roots to foliage, whirling uncontrollably on the racing current. On and on it careered, revolving crazily. The vermin clung on with fang, tail and claw, their screeches and screams drowned out by the ever-increasing roar of the approaching waterfall. Gulo lodged himself between the roots, enveloped in boiling white spume as he grasped the limber taproots fiercely. Just ahead of them he spied the dead end of the rapids, where the maddened waters were transformed into a cataclysmic torrent. A fearful howl ripped from his mouth as the tree went round and round like a top, headed for destruction.