The Bellmaker Part 5

Foremoie continued shaking his head. "Oi wishes et wurrn't, zurr. We'm be goin' aboard a boat, oi feels et in moi diggen claws. Bohurr, oi'd rather walk anywhurrs than sail on ee boat. Oi'm gurtly afeared o' drownen. But if Marthen says et, then oi'm bound t'go!"

Joseph smiled as he took the heavy digging claw Fore-mole extended to him. "Bravely said; we will need your logic and strength. Now, I wonder who the fifth one is, laughing flower with eye of hawk. Perhaps it is Tree-rose?"

Oak Tom's pretty wife shook her head. "Not me. But I can tell you who I think it is-watch!" She crept over to the bottom step where Hon Rosie was sitting. Stealing up behind her, Treerose tickled the hare's long eartips. Rosie exploded. "Whoohahahooh! I say, stoppit! Whoo-hahahooh!"

Treerose stopped. "There she is. Rose Woodsorrel, the laughing flower! Though I don't know about her having an eye like a hawk."

Hon Rosie stiffened her ears indignantly. "Eye of hawk? Hawkeye! I say, that's what old Colonel Clary used to call me when I was in the Long Patrol. I'm absolutely top hole with any sort of weapon y'know: bow 'n' arrows, slings, javelins, hit anythin' you name. Dead on target, first time!"

Recognition suddenly dawned on Rosie and she burst out afresh. "Whoohahahooh! Oh I say, the thingummy, the rhyme, it meant me! What a wheeze, you chaps, I'm goin' with you!"

Rosie's husband, Tarquin, drew himself up huffily. "Steady on there, old gel! Do I take it that you intend swannin' off an' leavin' me here with our young uns?"

Rosie was an excellent mother and she loved Tarquin dearly. But being caught up in the throes of an adventure appealed to her wild spirit. "Got to do what Martin the bally Warrior commands, old lad!" She saw Tarquin's ears droop miserably and relented. "But if you're against it, m'dear, then I won't go!"

Knowing both hares well, Joseph came up with a ploy. "You're right, Tarquin. Here at Redwall with the young ones and your good self, that's the proper place for Rosie! Of course, this changes everything. I was thinking of giving my duties as menu setter and food taster to you, Tarquin. Mellus would look after your young leverets, give mem a bit of Abbey schooling, they'd make friends and get a good education. Right, Mellus?"

The badger caught Joseph's wink and agreed. "Indeed ft is. Oh, then there's also the temporary Cellarkeeper's {fades. I'm sure Durry needs some reliable beast to check jQn all his cellar stock. October ale, strawberry fizz-got ;tto be tasted each day and kept at the right temperature.

n*t that right, Durry?"

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The hedgehog caught on to the ruse and he nodded firmly. "Need somebeast with a good stomach for sam-plin' an' checkin'. Cellar should be cool 'n' quiet in the summer."

Tarquin L, Woodsorrel set his jaw in a decisive jut. "Who said you couldn't go, m'dear, eh? Show me the curmudgeon an' I'll give him two pieces of me mind! Our young uns need schoolin'. Never hurt anybeast. Now not another blinkin' word, Rosie. You're goin'! Oh I know it's a jolly hard sacrifice, but I'll stay right here. Samplin' ale 'n' cordial, tastin' grub an' makin' menus. Don't you fret, my beautiful gigglin' blossom. I'll keep m'self busy. You nip off; the break'll do you good!"

Laughter and applause greeted Tarquin's n.o.ble offer. Saxtus tapped the parchment whereon he had recorded all.

"Listen to this, and see if anybeast can make it clear.

Birds of cloth that fly o'er water, Guide trees of the forest through the sea..."

Simeon interrupted the poem. "I solved that last night-it's simple to a blind one who has had to have things described to him all his life. Trees of the forest going through the sea-that's a s.h.i.+p; the white birds of cloth are its sails, they guide and propel the s.h.i.+p through water."

Joseph shook his head in admiration. "Well done, Simeon! Read the other two lines, Saxtus."

"Where a snake begins, find thy daughter, Go now, turn thou, due to my plea."

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The Abbot looked at the Bellmaker. "Turn thou, Joseph!"

Joseph did as he was bid; standing up, he turned around. "Done that. Now what do I do?"

Simeon shook with silent laughter. The Abbot glared in his direction. "This is no laughing matter, my friend!"

The blind mouse took a little time to compose himself. "Sorry, Saxtus, but I did hear Joseph actually stand and turn then. That's what I was laughing at. You've got it all wrong; the rhyme means that you turn the word thou."

Saxtus thought about it for a moment, then he tried. "Uoth! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Try turning it a bit more, switch the letters O and U around."

"Outh? Still means nothing."

Simeon took a sip of his mint tea. "It won't until you find where a snake begins."

The Abbot looked puzzled. "At its tail, I suppose. That's where all snakes begin."

"Oh really!" the blind Herbalist snorted impatiently. "I'm Simeon, that begins with S. You're Saxtus; that begins with 5. Now what does snake begin with? An 5!"

Saxtus still looked blank. "I'm sorry, Simeon-you've tost me. Could you explain it all?"

Simeon spoke in a slow and patient tone. "Put the letter S with the word outh and you have South. Due South! Martin is pleading with you to sail due south!" ';,, Saxtus swept the cup from Simeon's paw and gave it to Rufe. "Mint tea is no fitting drink for a genius. Rufe- take this to the cellars and fill it with the finest old black- berry wine, for a blind mouse who can see further than *,-.

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anybeast in Redwall Abbey. Simeon, accept my humble congratulations!"

Long into the afternoon they labored at the final verse, Joseph reading it over and over: "Five will ride the Roaringburn, But only four will e'er return, Urgan sits in Gael's Royal House, Warriormaid and Warriormouse, Say hasten, and give aid."

Rufe Brush repeated the second line. " 'But only four will e'er return'? Will one of us die, Durry?"

The hedgehog shook his spiky head. "Pay it no 'eed, Rufey. We'll take care o' each other. Besides, it may be a trick line. Martin the Warrior always says one thing an' means another. Don't you worry, mate."

"Durry's right-no use wondering how a journey will finish before you start it," said Mellus, as she pa.s.sed Rufe a cup of cider. "Warriormaid and Warriormouse must be Marie! and Dandin, as you said, Joseph, and you must hasten and give aid to them. But what do the other lines mean?''

Hon Rosie gave a careless shrug. "Five riding the Roaringburn and Urgan sittin' in Gael's Royal House, wot? What's a Roaringthingy and what's an Urgan or a Gael, even if they do have a Royal bally House? We either know or we don't, an' take it from me, chaps, I certainly don't! Never was much good in the brainbox department, but I'm frightened of nothin'. So why worry about it, eh?"

Simeon rose slowly, straightening up his old frame with 83 a grimace. "That's the wisest thing I've heard all day, Rosie."

Joseph stood and offered his paw for Simeon to lean on. "Right! We've got the five and we know which direction to travel. That's good enough for me! Tomorrow at first light we set out to find Mariel and Dandin!"

8.

The dead heat of a still summer night was rudely broken. Columns of gray rats, armed to the fangs with all manner of weaponry, flooded out of Castle Floret. Nagru was abroad with his horde, out to hunt down Serena, her son, and their otter allies. The Foxwolf and his Captains led the army out across the valley floor, speeding their trot to a run as they raced up the wooded tor. Bringing up the rear was a cage. Six rats with cross-hilted pikes pushed it from behind, while up front, sweaty with fear, Mingol and Vengro pulled on the towing ropes. The wheeled cage rattled forward with the two rats tugging in panic, keeping the ropes taut to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the occupants of the close-barred prison cage.

Thrusting his paws into the metal-sheathed wolf claws, Nagru threw back his head, baying a hunting call to the night sky.

' 'O w w wooooorrrr! * *

Like an icy wind it chilled the blood of every horderat.

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The Urgan Nagru, their master the Foxwolf, was out with his Dirgecallers to taste blood. Stumbling and clanking amid weapons and arms, the lead platoons crested the hill, grinding to a breathless, quivering halt at their Captains' signals. Leaving the escape trail of Serena and the otters clear, they dispersed into the surrounding woodland. There they concealed themselves in many places, some even climbing up into the trees. Trembling with terror and exertion, Mingol and Vengro arrived with the cage. Nagru dismissed them with a growl, and they fled thankfully into the thickets with the others.

The Foxwolf drew two sc.r.a.ps of cloth from his belt. One was a torn kerchief which had belonged to Queen Serena, the other a feeding bib of Truffen's. The barred cage door faced head-on to the path taken by the fugitives. Nagru dangled the pitiful rags against the cage door, chanting in a singsong voice: "Ho, Dirgecallers, swift and sleek, You shall have your share. Fangs will rip and blood will leak, Scent your victims. There!"

He jumped back laughing as the bits of fabric were s.n.a.t.c.hed inside the bars. The cage began reverberating; eerie screamlike growls mingled with the rake of scratching claws and grinding teeth. Shreds of ripped cloth flew from the madly buffeting pen. Fascinated and fearful, the horderats peeked from their hiding places at the spectacle. The Urgan Nagru gave a throaty chuckle, enjoying the sight of his Dirgecallers working themselves into a blood frenzy as they took the scent of their quarry. The wolfhide

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swirled out, starlight pinpointing Nagru's metal claws. He called to his horde: "What is black and what is red?"

The answer echoed back from the trees and bushes.

"Night is black and blood is red!"

Placing a claw on the cage latch he shouted: ' 'What is the color of death?''

The reply rang out to the dark skies.

"Foxwolf and his Dirgecallers know the color of death!"

The cage door sprang open with a clang, and the Dirgecallers came bounding out.

Brought across seasons of heaving seas from the lands of ice by Nagru, maddened through a life of confinement, crazed from lack of live prey, two fully grown female ermine snuffled and wailed. Sleek maniac killers both, glazed red eyes s.h.i.+ning against the dull brown of summer coats, teeth white as snow and sharp as spikes. Flexing claws as black as their tailtips, the two predators intertwined sinuously, weaving together into a perilous blur of teeth, claws, and eyes. The Dirgecallers suddenly went rigid, then with an earsplitting wail they sped off down the trail into the darkness. Nagru charged after them, his whole being suffused by their bloodl.u.s.t.

' "They've found the scent-the hunt is on! Ooowwooorrr!"

Bush, shrub, and flower were trampled underpaw as the horde chased their savage master and his trackers; ma.s.ses of armed rats thundered out along the trail. Then their cries died into the distance. The scene that moments ago had echoed to chaos regained its silence, and the lonely tor slipped back into the deep of night.

In the hour before dawn, Serena found herself shaken into wakerulness by Iris. She picked Truffen up as the otter hustled them both to the streambank.

"Hurry, Serena. It will not be safe here soon. Get aboard this log!"

The Squirrelqueen and her son hopped aboard the broad trunk of a dead fir lying in the shallows. Faint noises from afar floated on the predawn breeze. Serena rubbed sleep from her eyes, asking, "Iris, what is it? Where are we going?''

Greenbeck' s strong head broke the surface by the log. "The Foxwolf is comin' this way, marm, huntin' with a full pack. He'll find this place by dawn, but don't fret yoreself; we'll take you somewheres safe by water. That'll put 'is foul snout off the scent. Stream water don't leave many tracks to follow; otters know that!"

Truffen was still asleep aboard the broad log. Serena covered him with her cloak, lying alongside him as the quiet waters rippled by. Powered by a small contingent of otters, the fir trunk swept onward smoothly. Greenbeck and his friend Troutlad held a murmured conversation as they swam with the log.

"Squirrelqueen's goin' t'get 'erself an' the liddle un captured if'n she don't leave Southsward, mark my words, matey. That sc.u.m Nagru won't rest 'til they're both slain."

"Aye, that's true. But you 'card 'er. She's stayin' put. Trouble is, where's a good cove to 'ide 'em?"

"If'n we puts Nagru off their scent Iris should take 'em to ole Furpp's dwellin' in the mounds by the wastelands. They'll be snug 'n' safe enough there, I reckons."

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Iris's head popped up between them. "Stow the gab and save your energy for pus.h.i.+n'. Hear that!"

Greenbeck blew stream water from his nostrils. "Sounds like more'n rats in our wake ..."

"Wonder what's makin' that awful wailin' din?" Troutlad said as he began shoving the trunk faster. "Come on mate, put yore back into it an' let's get movin'!"

Serena stared anxiously back over her shoulder, pulling little Truffen close. Her teeth chattered with fright at the unearthly, dirgelike wails of the pack that were on the trail of her and the babe.

It was a bright blue summer morn when the questers and a party of well-wishers left Redwall Abbey. Above the breeze the sky was ridged with high white clouds, patterned like rippled sand after the tide leaves a beach. Many Redwallers had turned out to march along with the five to the River Moss. They lined the banks, pa.s.sing supplies from paw to paw to the shrews aboard four log-boats. Abbot Saxtus embraced the shrew Chieftain warmly.

"Log-a-Log, old friend, thank you for the warmth and help you have always shown to us."

Log-a-Log brushed aside the compliment modestly. "Aye, Guosim, the Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Moss-flower, that's us, always here to help our chums. But let's go over these plans again, Father Abbot. You say that I've got to take your five to the sea in our logboats. Fair enough, but what happens then?"

Saxtus hemmed and hawed as he filled a beaker with October ale for the shrew, knowing he was about to ask go rather a lot from the Chieftain of the Guosim. ' 'Er, well, haha, hmmm, it's rather hard to explain ..."

Log-a-Log sipped his ale, both eyes never leaving Saxtus. "Come on, spit it out, Saxtus. What d'you really want?''

Plucking up courage, the Abbot ventured forth on his tale, from the night of Joseph's dream. Log-a-Log sat swirling the ale in his beaker as he listened open-mouthed to the strange story. When Saxtus had finished he looked hopefully at the shrew, asking, "Well, my old friend, what do you say?''

Log-a-Log sat silent awhile, watching his quarrelsome tribe of Guosim shrews-small, spiky furred, each wearing a colored headband, broad belt, and short rapier. They argued and fought constantly, over who would sit where, which paddle was to be wielded by one or another, how best to stow the supplies and accommodate the pa.s.sengers. Their gruff ba.s.s voices and aggressive manners marked them indelibly as Guosim shrews. Log-a-Log shook his head.

"Adventures, quests, battles, and the seasons knows what! That's just what my tribe needs; they're gettin* too fat and argumentative sittin' on the riverbank fis.h.i.+n' their days away. But I'm afraid we don't have what you want, Saxtus. Let me explain. A shrew logboat is fine for rivers, streams, and big lakes, but you couldn't put to sea in one. They're not built big or strong enough to stand high seas, waves, or gales. A good storm'd send our logboats straight to the bottom. That's the truth, friend."

Saxtus was crestfallen. All the hopes and plans of Red-wall's five questers had been dashed by Log-a-Log's announcement. Then the shrew's eyes twinkled merrily, and 91 he slapped the Abbot's back soundly.

"Cheer up, old frogfeatures. I didn't say I wouldn't help, did I? There's more'n one way of sh.e.l.lin' an acorn. Hah! Imagine trying to leave the Guosim out of adventures an' battles and so on!"

Saxtus immediately brightened up. "You're going to help us," he said. "I knew we could count on you!"

Log-a-Log stood up, resting both paws on his large belt. "Aye, what we'll need is a real s.h.i.+p, and I happen to know just the creature who'll get us one. Bear in mind, a s.h.i.+p needs a proper crew, watershrews, not landlubbers. Anyway, don't worry; me and the Guosim'll be going along for the voyage. Now don't go pestering me with more questions-I've got work to do before we get under way. Hi, Bandle! What d'you think yore doin' with those casks? Put 'em abaft of the bundles in the stern of my boat. Patch! Make that headrope secure or somebeast'll fall in the water trying to get aboard-tighten the back-spring, too!"

He strode off issuing orders left and right, leaving Saxtus to join the rest in bidding farewell to the five travelers. Log-a-Log's shrews were getting more quarrelsome and impatient to be off, so most of the Redwallers' good-byes were shouted as they ran along the banks when the log-boats paddled off.

"You'm taken gurt care of eeself, zurrs. Doant fall in ee h'ocean, burr no, tis vurry wetten!"

"Have a super time, Rosie old gel. Don't fret over the young uns-I'll look after the blighters. Oh, an' try not to laugh too much. Those shrew chappies, y'know, pretty short-tempered an' not too jolly, wot?"

"I've packed October ale aplenty for ye Durry, think 92 .

of yore ole pals when you sup it!"

"Don't worry about the bellringing, Rufe. We'll all take turns. Be good and come home safe!"

"Joseph, ole mate, next time I see that grizzly gob of yourn I'd like to see Marie! kissin' it. Good luck, mate!"

"Cheerio mater, pip pip an' all that. Bring us back somethin' tasty to eat, toodle pip!"