“Well done, missie, we’ll make cooks of you hares yet. Tammo, are you ready with the first layer?”
Tammo wielded a ladle, enjoying himself immensely. “Wot? I’ll say I am. Now don’t tell me, Butty, just watch
this!” He spread the chopped button mushroom and grated carrot mixture on its pastry base, making sure it was level.
“There! Righto, Pasque, you an’ Midge chuck in the next layer!”
Watched by the Friar, the two hares spread sliced white turnip and chopped leeks as a second layer. Then Butty
placed a third layer of diced potato and slivered white cabbage.
He winked at Tammo and stood back, wiping his paws on a cloth. “Go on then, Tanun, I’m not tellin’ you what’s
next, ’tis up t’you.”
Tammo took the lid off a panful of dark rich gravy. “Mmm, smells absolutely super duper! Stand clear, please!” He
poured the gravy over the layered vegetables evenly, watching it soak through, pulling his paw back swiftly to avoid a
slap with Butty’s damp cloth.
“No takin’ secret licks at the pan, or I’ll tell yore Sergeant an’ he’ll have yore tail for supper, or wotever it is he
does. C’mon now, take an end o’ this cover each.”
Gingerly they lifted a big pastry top between them and flopped it gently over the dish. Butty took a knife and
trimmed it while Tammo and Midge crimped the edges. Pasque borrowed Butty’s knife to cut a series of arrowhead
slits in the center, then she brushed the top with a mixture of light vegetable oil and finely chopped spring onions.
The squirrel Friar shook their paws. “Well done, good effort for y’first Mossflower Wedge. Now, how long does it
stand in the oven?”
Pasque and Tammo spoke out together, “Until it tells you it’s done!”
“Right! And when’s that?”
“When the crust is golden brown an’ shiny, an’ there’s no more steam coming out of the slits in the middle!”
“Correct! See, I told you I’d make Redwall cooks out of you. Now, let’s see how good y’are at makin’ Abbey
Trifle ....”
29?
A single lantern had been left burning at the platform dug by the moles beneath the south outer wall. The pale light
flickered, sending its radiance down into the depths of the darkened chasm, where it shone feebly on the spray-
drenched stones by the rushing water. In the dim light, bunched wet scales glistened, savage rows of ivory-hued teeth
showed briefly, and two slitted eyes filmed over. The creature had heard the furry creatures above, it had seen them, so
it waited hungrily, knowing that sooner or later they would be descending into the gloomy rift. Coiling its sinister
length around a rock to prevent it being swept away ... it waited.
Sneezewort sat on the hillslope enjoying the mid-morning sunshine. In an old upturned helmet he was boiling up a
broth of frogspawn and some stream vegetation on his fire. The rat watched his companion approaching, then turned
his gaze upon the helmet, pretending to be engrossed with the task of cooking.
Lousewort came damp-furred and shivering. An enormous lump showed between his ears as he squatted by the fire
to dry his shivering body.
Sneezewort spoke to his former companion without looking up. “Thought yew was supposed ter be an officer
gettin’ punished.”
Lousewort peered hungrily at the mess bubbling in the helmet. “Er, er, well, I ain’t a ossifer no more, mate. Er, er,
that looks good. I’m starvin’.”
Sneezewort stirred the broth with his dagger. “Don’t you ’mate’ me, I ain’t yore mate no more. Why aren’t yer still
Stannin’ up t’yer neck in chains inna river?”
The other rat shrugged noncommittally. “Er, er, they all escaped durin’ the night, with Borumm an’ Vendace, but I
got left be’ind.”
“Left be’ind? Didn’t yer wanna go wid ’em? Better’n free-zin’ yore tail off inna stream, I woulda thought.”
“Er, well, I got knocked over me ’ead an’ left senseless.”
“Harr, harr! Wouldn’t take much t’leave you senseless. Wot ’appened then?”
“Er, er, well, I woke up an’ shouted the alarm. Lord Damug sent Skaup the ferret out wirra ’undred or more, to ’unt
’em down. Er, Lord Damug said t’me that at least I was loyal, stoopid but loyal ’e called me, an”e said that I wasn’t fit
ter be an ossifer an’ told me I’d got me ole job back, servin’ in the ranks. So ’ere I am, mate, we’re back together, jus’
me’n’you.”
Sneezewort snorted as he picked the helmet off the flames between two sticks and set it down by the fireside.
“Hah! So y’think yer can come crawlin’ back t’me, eh? Where’s all yer brother officers now, tell me that? An’
anudder thing, don’t think yore sharin’ my vittles, slobberchops! Go an’ get yore own, y’big useless gully-wumper!”
Lousewort sulked by the fire, looking hurt and touching the lump between his ears tenderly. Then, as if
remembering something, he reached into his sodden garments and drew out a big dead gudgeon, its scales glistening
damply in the morning sunlight.
“Er, er, I stood on this an’ killed it when I jumped off the rock in the stream. D’yer think it’ll be all right to eat?”
Sneezewort nearly knocked the helmet over as he grabbed the fish. “Course it will, me ole mate. Tell yer wot I’ll
do, I’ll shove it in wid this soup an’ cook it up a bit on the fire, while you scout for more firewood, mate. You kin ’ave
the ’ead’n’tail, those are the best bits, I’ll ’ave the middle ’cos yew prob’ly damaged that part by jumpin’ on it, mate!”
Lousewort rose, smiling happily. “Er, er, then we’re still mates?”
Sneezewort’s snaggle-toothed grin smiled back at him. “I was only kiddin’ yer a moment back. We wuz always
mates, me’n’you, true’n’blue! If yer can’t find a spot by yer fire an’ a bit t’spare for yer ole mate, then wot sorta mate
are yer, that’s wot I always says. You nip along now an’ get the wood!”
a Damug squatted at the water’s edge, honing his swordblade against a flat piece of stone as he conveyed his
orders to the
Rapmark Captains.
“There’s plenty of food and water here. We’ll camp by this stream until they bring back Borumm and Vendace and
the others. When they do I’ll make such an example of them that no Rapscallion will ever even think of disobeying me
again.
Gaduss, we’ve got no scouts at present, so you take fifty with you and go north. I want you to do a two-day search
in that direction, but if you find anything of interest before that, report back immediately.”
The weasel Gaduss saluted with his spear. “It shall be done, Firstblade!”
Nearly a full day’s journey up the same stream bank, the water broadened, running through two hills whose tops
were fringed with pine and spruce trees. Log-a-Log, Chieftain of the Guosim shrews, was busily cleaning moss from
the bottom of a beached and upturned logboat, assisted by another shrew called Frackle.
They paused to watch the other shrews fishing. Frackle wiped moss from her rapier blade, nodding toward them.
“Lots o’ freshwater shrimp in that landlocked stretch o’ water,” she said.
Log-a-Log ran his paw along a section of hull he had cleaned off. “Aye, freshwater mussels, too. Minnow an’
stickleback were there in plenty last time I fished that part. Take a stroll over there, Frackle, easy like—an’ don’t look
up at yonder hill on the other bank, we’re bein’ watched by some o’ those thick-’eaded Rapscallion vermin who tried
attackin’ us yesterday.”
Frackle sauntered away, murmuring casually, “Aye, I see the glint o’ the sun on blades up in those trees at the