Fwirl caught on immediately. Her tail whirled excitedly. "Somebeast in the Abbey is putting them there. Right?"
Mhera gripped Fwirl's paws and squeezed them. "Exactly! We're going to keep our eyes open from now on, Fwirl. Because whoever it is holds the key to this whole mystery!"
Filorn came down the wallsteps to find Mhera and Fwirl whirling each other around, chanting singsong style, "Hittagall pittagall wittagall uittagall! Hittagall pittagall wittagall wittagall!"
"Mhera, what have I told you, miss?" Filorn whispered urgently. "Redwallers are watching you. Think of your responsibilities!"
The ottermaid halted momentarily and smiled impudently. "Boorab's a commander, and if he can go around saying A and B the C of D, wot wot, then I'm allowed a bit of fun too. Besides, I'm younger than him. Come on, Fwirl, I'm enjoying this!"
Squirrelmaid and ottermaid started whirling around again. "Hittagall pittagall wittagall uittagall!"
Filorn relented. She helped Brull push the empty trolley back to the Abbey, smiling and shaking her head. "Just look at those two young 'uns. Mad as march hares!"
Brull nodded admiringly as she watched the performance. "Hurr hurr, bless ee gudd 'earts, missus, they'm h'only young once. Oi cudd darnce loike that once; wish't oi cudd naow. Hurr hurr hurr, oi'm gurtly fattied. Moi darncin' days be's long dunn!"
Chapter 25
The Dillypin raft was well into deep woodland, floating leisurely along the broad river. It was one of those halcyon summer afternoons Tagg would always remember. After a superb lunch of pancakes and bilberry cordial, he lounged on the stern rail with Jurkin, keeping the raft on course and watching the current. Smooth flowing and deep the water ran, clear to its bed. Long trailing weed tresses, submerged flat rocks and fleet darting minnow shoals passed beneath the rudder. Dragonflies and other insects patrolled the shallows, sheltered by overhanging trees from swallows and willow warblers. Jurkin studied the land, as did Tagg, both with the eyes of experienced trackers. The hedgehog nodded sagely.
"Aye, see the broken sedge yonder? Yore vermin passed this way. Bound fer Redwall, if'n I ain't mistaken, matey."
Tagg had been following the telltale signs. He looked up. "Redwall? You mean they're going to the same place I'm heading?"
Jurkin kept his eyes on the bank and shallows. He shrugged. "Mebbe so. We'll find out tomorrer when we comes t'the big rocks. We'll stop then, an' if'n y'see their trail goin' off inland, then you'll know fer sure. Great pins'n'prickles, lissen to that liddle mousemate o' yourn. 'E's a worse fibber'n me!"
Nimbalo was entertaining the Dillypin hogs, who sat around listening wide-eyed as he related a monologue of his adventures. Waving a celery stick, he parried and thrust at invisible foes as he leaped about, reciting dramatically.
"I'm Nimbalo the Slayer, haha hoho,
A strange ole name ye may say,
So I'll tell ye how I won me title,
Long ago, on a fine summer day.
1 was the son of a mighty King,
Me an' two hundred others,
Half of them was sisters of course,
But the other two halves was brothers.
We was out on a picnic one evenin',
In a forest all dark'n'thick,
Some picked ants out the pudden,
While I just picked on a nick.
Suddenly we was under attack,
By ten thousand vermin, 'twas bad,
Some began shoutin' for 'elp an' aid,
An' others for Mum an' Dad!
There was willful weasels, rotten rats,
Fat foxes, fierce ferrets an' stoats,
With swords an' knives, to take our lives,
An' one had a spear in 'is coat!
When this I did spy, 'Hoho,' sez I,
'It looks like you scum wanna fight?'
So I slew a score wid my left paw,
An' another twelve with me right.
'That mouse is a slayer,' their leader cried,
'But by me spear he'll die!'
So I knocked that rat flat,
With a swipe of me hat,
An' the crust off a dead apple pie.
Then takin' a sword, his whiskers I chopped,
All the while he was shoutin' out 'Save me!'
But in the din 'twas hard to hear,
I thought he was shoutin' out 'Shave me!'
Those villains dashed off in a panic,
'Cos they saw I was in a bad mood,
'Go boil yore bottoms,' I shouted,
(an' other things far more rude).
That's why me name's Nimbalo,
An' I'm a Slayer bold,
I'll fight the good fight,
From morn until night,
But not if me supper gets cold!"
"Did you chase da naughty villuns an' catch 'em, Mista Nimbal?" a hogbabe piped up when the applause had died down.
The harvest mouse chomped on his celery sword. "No, they caught me an' killed me, but I'll get 'em next time!"
Tagg shook his head in mock despair at his friend. "You're a dreadful fibber, Nimbalo."
Patting his well-filled stomach, the harvest mouse winked. "After that good lunch, matey, I'm a sleepy dreadful fibber. I think 'tis about time fer me noontide nap." He stretched out on a deckmat and was soon snoring.
It was not long after that Tagg noticed the hogbabes and young ones chattering excitedly.
"We're coming up t'the water meadows," Jurkin explained. "They likes to paddle in the shallows an' pick berries. Some good 'uns grow 'round there. But if'n yore in an 'urry, Tagg, we'll sail on by 'em."
Tagg would not hear of the idea. "No no, let the little 'uns have their fun. We can always make up the time later. I like water meadows too, you know."
Jurkin chuckled. "So do I, mate. Thankee."
The hogbabes were all agog, dancing and waving their paws. "Warty medders! There's a warty medders!"
The barge hove in to the vast woodland-fringed area. It was a pretty sight. No more than waist deep, the entire expanse was carpeted in water lilies, plant life and bulrushes. All manner of insect life, including many beautiful butterflies, hovered on the still noontide air. Whooping and yelling, the Dillypins scooted off, some to paddle, others to gather berries and fruit. Tagg left Nimbalo sleeping and joined a bunch of mothers and babes with baskets. They found pears, apples, hazelnuts, blackberries, raspberries and wild damsons, all around the far-flung margin.
They returned aboard in the late noon, happy with their harvest, speculating on the flans, pies, puddings and preserves that would be made with them. The otter put down the two babes he had been carrying shoulder high and waved to Jurkin, who had stayed aboard the raft.
"I enjoyed that. 'Twas well worth it, mate. Where's Nimbalo?"
The Dillypin leader nodded for'ard. "Sittin' up yon with a face like stone. 'E woke just after you went, been sittin' like that all afternoon."
Nimbalo did not even look up when Tagg sat beside him. Never had the otter seen his harvest mouse friend so glum and depressed. By the marks on his face he had obviously shed tears. Tagg leaned close and lowered his voice.
"What's up, matey? Are you all right?"
Nimbalo continued gazing into the water. "Aye, I suppose so. It's just this place, I can't stand it."
Tagg was astonished. The water meadow was a place of great beauty. "Why, what's so awful about it? Tell me."
Nimbalo indicated the far margin with a nod. "Jus' beyond there was where I was reared by my papa. I never knew my mother. Maybe she died when I was young, that's wot I like to think. But 'twas prob'ly Papa drove 'er to run off. 'E was a hard cruel beast. I hid in these 'ere reeds many a time, when Papa was goin' to take a belt to me, for not doin' the chores the way 'e wanted 'em done. There was jus' me an' Papa t'keep the farm goin'. I was never allowed any friends. Little food an' lots o' beltin', that was my life. Said 'e did it to bring me up proper. Papa used to trade with beasts usin' the river, like these Dillypins. I never met 'em, Papa made me stay 'ome an' scrub out the farm'ouse. Always took 'is belt off t'me when 'e got back. Said I was lazy an' shiftless. Enny'ow, one night when I'd growed a bit, Papa took the belt off once too often, I fought with 'im an' ran off. Never been back since. That's why I ain't fond o' this place: 'twas my ole stampin' grounds. Will ye do me a favor, Tagg?"