Tansy and Craklyn pushed into the foliage, all concern for the owl’s predicament.
“Oh, you poor bird! Three eggs and your home’s de—
Viola, come quick! Arven, Skipper, hold this branch steady. Stay still, my dear, we’ll have you and your eggs out
of there safely in no time at all!”
The Redwallers flocked in to help; carefully they extricated the Little Owl from the crack. The nest, with its three
eggs intact, was lifted out as gently as possible. Then, chopping away twigs and foliage, they led the bird out into the
open.
Tansy found out that the owl’s name was Orocca. They brought her to the fire, placing the nest on a pile of
blankets. Orocca was small but looked formidably strong and fierce. She ruffled her feathers and sat on her nest,
staring aggressively at everybeast, the pupils of her immense golden eyes dilating and contracting in the firelight.
Mother Buscol gave her warm candied chestnuts, hazelnuts crystallized in honey, and some strawberry fizz.
“Indeed to goodness, bird, you need sweet food to get over your shock. Eat up now, look you, there’s plenty more.”
As Orocca ate voraciously, Viola approached her with herbs and medicines. The owl shot her a glare that sent her
scuttling. Timidly she stood behind Skipper and called to Orocca, “When will your egg babies be born?”
The answer was terse and irate. “When they’re ready, and not a moment before, silly!”
Foremole Diggum and his team arrived at the fire. Diggum clacked his digging claws together in delight. “Hoo arr,
loo-kee, Drubb, ’unny apples an’ chesknutters by ee foire! Gurr, us’n’s be fair famishered. ’Scuse oi, marm, ’opes
you’m doant objeck to molers settin”longside ee?”
To everybeast’s surprise, Orocca actually smiled at Diggum. “Please be seated, sir, I enjoy the company of moles
immensely. I find them wise and sensible creatures, not given to ceaseless chatter and inane questions.”
Foremole and his crew sat, heaping their platters with food.
Arven scratched his head in bewilderment. “Orocca doesn’t seem too fond of us, yet she took to you straight away.
What’s your secret, Diggum?”
Foremole’s homely face crinkled into a knowing grin. “Hurr, oi ’spect ’tis our ’andsome lukks, zurr!”
Striving to keep a straight face, Arven sat next to Diggum. “Oh, I see. But pray tell me, sir, apart from admiring
yourself in a mirror, what else have you been up to this afternoon?”
The mole poured himself a beaker of strawberry fizz. “Us’n’s been a diggen, oi’ll tell ee wot oi found, zurr!”
Later on Arven sought out Tansy, who was in the dormitory with Mother Buscol, bedding down Dibbuns for the
night. Peeping ’round the door, Arven watched in silence, recalling fondly his own Dibbun times. The Abbeybabes lay
in their small beds, repeating after Abbess Tansy an ancient poem. Arven had learned it from Auma, an old
badgermother, long ago.
He listened, mentally saying the lines along with the little ones.
“Night comes soft, ’tis daylight’s end,
Sleep creeping gently o’er all,
Bees go to hive, birds fly to nest,
Whilst pale moon shadows fall.
Silent earth lies cloaked in slumber,
Stars standing guard in the skies,
Til dawn steals up to banish darkness,
I must close my weary eyes.
Safe dreams, peace unto you, my friend,
Night conies soft, ’tis daylight’s end.”
Mother Buscol stayed with the yawning Dibbuns while Tansy drifted quietly outside to see what her friend
wanted. Together they descended the stairs and strolled out into the beautiful spring night, and Arven related what
Diggum Foremole had told him.
i;V “Diggum and his team located the exact spot where the f frouble with the south wall began. Today while we
were deal-jpng with the tree, he and his moles began excavating. I’ve “arranged with him to show us what he found.”
Holding lighted lanterns, Diggum and his stout crew waited them at the edge of a sloping shaft they had dug
into ground near the wallbase.
Tugging his snout courteously to Tansy, the mole Chieftain sted her. “Gudd eventoid to ee, marm, thurr be summat
yurr oi wanten ee t’cast thy eye ower. Oi’ll go afront of ee an’ moi moles’ll foller, keepen furm ’old o’ yon rope.”
Sensibly the moles had pegged ropes either side of the shaft walls, forming a strong banister. Gingerly, everyone
followed Diggum into the shaft. The earth was moist and slippery un-derpaw.
Following Diggum’s advice, Tansy held tightly to the ropes. By lantern light she saw that the shaft leveled out into
a small tunnel, where she was forced to crouch, her gown sweeping its sides.
“Burr, oi’m sorry you’m “abit be gettin’ amuckied oop,” Foremole murmured apologetically. “‘Tis only a place fit
furr molefolk, marm.”
The Abbess patted the broad back in front of her. “Oh, ’tis nothing a washday won’t solve, friend. Lead on, I’m
dying of curiosity to see what you’ve discovered.”
When she did see it, Tansy was almost lost for words. She stood awestruck at what the flickering lantern light
revealed.
“Great seasons o’ sun an’ showers, what is it?”
Book Two: A Gathering of Warriors
20
Between them both, Hogspit and Lousewort knew virtually nothing about scouting ahead for the Rapscallion army.
Their promotion to the rank of Rapscour was greeted with scorn by the twoscore vermin trackers each had under his
command. All day they had trudged steadily north, with the eighty vermin ignoring their commands pointedly. They
went their own way, foraging and fooling about, pleasing themselves entirely.
Lousewort was completely bullied and cowed by Hogspit; the big nasty weasel took every available chance to beat
or belittle his fellow officer. Lousewort bumbled along in Hog-spit’s wake like some type of menial lackey.
It was about early noon when they breasted a long rolling hill with a broad stream flowing through the fields below
it. Hogspit immediately gave his verdict on the area.
“It’ll do fer a camp tonight, I s’pose, good runnin’ water an’ plenty o’ space. Wot more could Damug ask fer ’is
army?”
Lousewort gave his opinion, for what it was worth. “Er, er, not much shelter, though. Wot iffen it rains?”
Hogspit fetched him a clip ’round the ear. “Iffen it rains then they’ll just ’ave ter get wet, blobberbrain. That’s
unless you’ve got ideas of buildin’ lots o’ nice liddle wooden ’uts t’keep ’em dry.”
Lousewort thought about this for a moment. “Er, er, but there ain’t no wood around, mate, an’ even if there was
it’d take too Ion—Yowch!” He jumped as the weasel booted him hard on the behind.
“If brains wuz bread you’d a starved to death afore you was born!”
The conversation was ended when a weasel came panting up the hillside and pointed down to where the stream
curved ’round the far side of the tor. Throwing a smart salute, he rattled out breathlessly to the two officers,
“Boatloads o’ scruffy-lookin’ mice down that way, sirs!”
Hogspit swelled his chest officiously, sneering at the messenger. “Ho, ’tis ’sirs’ now, is it? A lick o’ trouble, a
coupla foebeasts, an’ all of a sudden we’re officers agin, eh! Right then, ’ow many o’ these scruffy-lookin’ mouses is
there?”
Lousewort tried hard to look like a commander of twoscore as he parroted Hogspit’s last words. “Er, er, aye, ’ow
many is there?”
The big weasel silenced him with an ill-tempered stare before turning back to the tracker. “Never mind goin’ back