[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain Read online

  The Abbess explained patiently to the young mole. “Guosim are our shrew friends. Each letter of their name stands for what they are: Guerilla Union Of Shrews In Mossflower. Guosim! Their chieftain is called the Log a Log. Skipper, I never knew that Log a Log Urfa was a friend of yours.”

  Banjon cut himself a slice of the wholesome-looking plait. “Oh aye, marm, that ’e was, though it was afore you was Abbess. We was young buckoes t’gether. I sailed many a stream with Urfa before they chose ’im as a Log a Log.”

  Tiria helped herself to a tart. “And you think he’ll help me to get a boat, Skip?”

  Her father winked broadly at her. “Urfa don’t forget ’is ole mates. You’ll see, gel!”

  Burbee poured more tea for herself and Lycian. “Hurr, that bee’s if’n Miz Tiria doan’t get too h’old to sail ee boat, boi ee gurt toime they’m scholarybeasts taken to solve ee riggle!”

  Girry called over to Quelt and Snowdrop, “Well, have you two found anything in that old book yet?”

  Without looking up, the old Recorder answered, “Yes, it seems we have, young ’un.”

  Girry’s tail rose stiffly, a sure sign of indignation in squirrelfolk. “Well, thanks a lot for not telling us!”

  The Abbess reproved him instantly. “Girry, don’t be so rude to your elders! We must make allowances for old scholars. They don’t see things as we do.”

  She turned politely to Old Quelt and his assistant. “Pardon me, but would it be possible to see what you’ve discovered, please?”

  Between them the pair carried the open book over. Sister Snowdrop tapped the page. “Right here you will see two references concerning the information you seek. However, we have yet to solve them. Girry, perhaps you’d like to read the first clue out.”

  The young squirrel read aloud from the Geminya Tome.

  “Linger sure for the lee,

  I set my trick carefully,

  my home lies o’er the sea,

  you’ll find the title names me . . . Is.”

  The ancient Recorder Librarian peered over his glasses. “Personally, I think Sister Geminya was only doodling, but you’ll find that out, if you’ve wit enough. Well, can any of you bright creatures throw some light on it?”

  They stared at the four lines a while, then Brinty spoke. “I think it’s telling us to discover a name. Right, sir?”

  Old Quelt shrugged. “Don’t ask me, my brain is old and slow. Try having confidence in your own judgement.”

  Girry chimed in. “I think Brinty’s right. We’re looking for the name of somebeast, agreed?”

  Sister Snowdrop adjusted her glasses. “That much is fairly obvious, but where among the lines of the poem do we begin to look?”

  Skipper, who was studying the rhyme intently, spoke without taking his eyes from the page. “I think I know, Sister. I’ve read this thing through six times now. Most of it makes sense, all except one line.”

  Tiria interrupted her father. “You mean the first line, Skip? ‘Linger sure for the lee.’ I noticed that, too. Hmm, wonder what it’s supposed to mean?”

  Brink tried to help with a suggestion. “I know the lee is the sheltered side of anythin’. Is that a clue? Are we lookin’ for a shelter?”

  Quelt shook his head. “No no, Mr. Greyspoke, you’re just confusing the issue. Try using the whole line as a guide.”

  Tribsy wrinkled his snout comically. “Hurr, you’m means all ee wurds’n’letters of ee line?”

  Sister Snowdrop began giving out charcoal sticks and scraps of parchment for everybeast to use. “Precisely! We must treat the entire line as an anagram. You know what that is—a lot of letters which you can jumble up to arrange into a new phrase.”

  Molemum Burbee sucked her tea noisily. “Hurr, oi never see’d that dun afore, marm. Oi bain’t used to riggles’n’puzzlers. They’m makes moi ’ead ache.”

  Abbess Lycian topped her friend’s mug up with fresh tea. “There now, don’t you fret about it, Burbee. Girry, maybe you and I could work at it together.”

  They paired off into twos. Only Quelt sat alone, watching them like a master observing his pupils.

  Tiria and Brinty were first to come up with something. The ottermaid cried eagerly, “Listen to this: ‘Eels rue fling her tore’!”

  Brink scratched his headspikes. “Wot does that mean?”

  Tiria shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? Have you two got anything yet?”

  Skipper Banjon, who was Brink’s partner, read out their effort. “ ‘Forges the line ruler,’ or ‘Rules the line forger.’ Huh, I think we left a letter E out. It’s hard alright!”

  Old Quelt polished his glasses nonchalantly. “Dearie me, you aren’t even close. Would you like me to tell you the answer?”

  Girry called out abruptly, “No, we wouldn’t!”

  Quelt answered with a touch of irony in his tone. “Please yourself, young ’un. I suppose you’ve solved it, eh?”

  Abbess Lycian’s eyes twinkled. “Yes we have, actually. It says ‘The Ruler of Green Isle.’ Then there’s the last word of the rhyme, it says ‘is.’ I’d forgotten about that, but now it makes sense.”

  Girry was elated. “Abbess Lycian and I solved it, by arranging all the letters of the line in a circle and staring hard at them. It suddenly just popped out at us. The Ruler of Green Isle . . . Is!”

  Brinty looked expectantly at his young squirrel friend. “Is who?”

  Sister Snowdrop pointed to the Tome. “We don’t know yet, apart from the fact that it’s somebeast who lives over the sea. Now listen carefully while I read you the second part of the puzzle.”

  The little Sister recited the odd words slowly.

  “Three aitches, two ee’s, two I’s, two N’s,

  Wherever there’s Q, there’s a U, or two.

  One G, one L, one A, one R,

  So I leave the answer to you.”

  Molemum Burbee covered her ears with both paws. “Ho gurt seasons! ’Tis enuff to droive a pore beast to discratchun!”

  Lycian and Girry were already forming up the letters into a circle. The Abbess whispered to Girry, “She means distraction. Right, let’s see what we’ve got!”

  Girry rubbed his paws together, chuckling happily. “Really enjoy doing these puzzles, Mother Abbess!”

  Brink Greyspoke wiped charcoal dust from his paws in disgust. “Well, I’m glad ye do, Girry mate, ’tis all a duck’s dinner to me. I’m only good at bein’ a Cellar’og!”

  Girry addressed Quelt in a bantering manner. “You’re the scholar here, sir. I don’t suppose you’ve got the solution yet?”

  The Recorder Librarian eyed him severely. “No, I haven’t, and I don’t suppose you’ve got it in so short a time, young fellow!”

  Girry stood up and began pacing the room. Clasping his paws behind him, he did a little hopskip, twirling his bushy tail.

  Tiria stared at him incredulously. “Girry, you haven’t solved it, have you?”

  Girry nodded, smirking like a Dibbun who had evaded a bath. “Got it as soon as I set eyes on it. Straight off!”

  Molemum Burbee shook a huge digging claw at him. “Then take ee smugg lukk off’n ee face an’ tell uz!”

  The young squirrel was enjoying his moment. Performing another hopskip, he stuck his nose in the air. “Shan’t!”

  Sister Snowdrop pleaded, “Oh please, tell us. I’ll have Friar Bibble cook something special just for you!”

  Girry grinned sweetly at her. “No, shan’t!”

  Skipper rose menacingly from his seat. “Tell us right now, ye young rip, or I’ll kick yore fluffy tail down the stairs!”

  Abbess Lycian cried out severely, “No you will not, sir!”

  She cast an icy glance at Girry before continuing. “I will, and I’ll box his ears into the bargain. Come here, you annoying rascal!”

  She made an undignified charge at Girry, who fled shouting, “Yaaaah! ‘High Queen Rhulain,’ that’s the answer!”

  Lycian strolled back to her
seat, smiling calmly. “So then, there we have it, straight from the mouth of my obedient assistant.”

  She held out her paw to Girry, who had regained his composure sufficiently to announce, “The Ruler of Green Isle is High Queen Rhulain!”

  He bowed elegantly but could not resist one last hopskip as he bounded to the Recorder Librarian’s side. “Hoho, this is the stuff! Come on, Quelt sir, and you, too, Sister. Where’s the next puzzle, eh? Just show it to us and we’ll crack it like Friar Bibble cracking a hazelnut with a bung mallet. Won’t we, mates?”

  There was ready agreement from the rest until Sister Snowdrop put a damper on their enthusiasm. “I’m afraid we haven’t found anything else yet. You’ll just have to wait.”

  Girry’s tail stood up like a flagpole. “You don’t mean to tell us that’s all, do you?”

  Old Quelt closed the book, patting its cover. “Not at all, young sir. There’s probably lots more about Miss Tiria’s dream and the journey she’ll be making.”

  Tiria could not conceal her disappointment. “Well, why can’t you find it for us now?”

  Removing his glasses and dabbing at his eyes with a kerchief, the ancient squirrel explained. “I’m certain there has to be more, because Sister Geminya has given us a keystone clue, the High Queen Rhulain. I can follow her reasoning, though she could be an exceedingly aggravating creature. But when she has a tale to relate, or a mystery to set out, this is the roundabout way she has of writing it down. Sister Snowdrop and I must study the Tome carefully. Just one oversight, and we lose it all. It is not the work of a moment, you must understand. Our research will be long and arduous, but we’ll get there. Now, my friends, I am very old and very tired. It will have to wait until tomorrow morning. I bid you good night!”

  Sister Snowdrop arose, rubbing her back as she joined him. “Please don’t judge us harshly, friends. Sleep can be a bother and a waste of time to the young, but as the seasons pile heavily upon one it becomes a blessing and a comfort. I, too, will see you all in the morning. Good night!”

  The pair shuffled off, carrying the big book between them.

  After the door of Cavern Hole had closed behind them, Abbess Lycian threw up her paws in frustration. “Oh bother! Just when we were getting somewhere. I’m not a bit tired yet. Oh well, what must be must be. Is there any tea left in the pot, Burbee?”

  “Burr, nary ee drop!” Burbee said, as she held the teapot spout down to demonstrate. “Oi bain’t one fur fancy likkle teapotters, oi’ll go an’ make summ in our own gurt big ’un.”

  Lycian picked up their large earthenware mugs. “Good idea. I’ll get our folding chairs and meet you up on the walltop. There’s a full moon out, and it’s a pleasant summer night. I like it up there, don’t you?”

  The molemum was feeling tired herself, but she agreed. “Yuss, marm, oi’ll see ee up thurr!”

  12

  It was a beautiful night outside, still warm from the long, hot summer day. Like a ball of newly churned butter surrounded by stars, the moon reigned over a dark, cloudless sky. Groffgut and his gang lay in the ditch opposite the Abbey’s west wall. They had been passing the time there since midnoon, napping and eating food they had gathered along the way. The water rats had been content during daylight hours, but they were distinctly uneasy now that night had spread its canopy over all. They were awed at the sight of Redwall and none too anxious to pay it a visit or meet its inhabitants. However, it was fairly obvious that their leader was planning something by the way he sat apart from them in the dry ditchbed, focussing his attention on the monumental building which loomed over them.

  Pointing his rusty makeshift sword at the west walltop, Groffgut tried to whip up the gang’s enthusiasm. “Willyer lookit dat place, mates? Just sittin’ there, all fulla good stuff fer us!”

  Threetooth provided the only response, which was not overly encouraging. “Dey got a h’eagle in dere, an’ anudder big burd, too. I saw dem!”

  Groffgut contradicted him, lying blatantly. “O no, yer never! Didden’t I show youse de h’eagle flyin’ away, jus’ afore it went dark?”

  Threetooth knew what he had seen, and he said so. “Dat burd was too ’igh up inna sky. ’Twasn’t no h’eagle, neither, it was a seagill.”

  Groffgut threw himself on Threetooth and gnawed on his ear. “Are yew callin’ me a liar, eh? I said it was a h’eagle!”

  Threetooth was sorry he had spoken. “Owowow! Awright awright, it was a h’eagle. Wowoow! Stop eatin’ me lug’ole, Chief, it was a h’eagle!”

  Groffgut kicked him to one side. He curled his lip in scorn at the other vermin. “Yer know the trouble wid youse? Ye’ve all gone soft on me! Yer frykinned of yer own shadders. Right, y’see dis sword?”

  He brandished the rusty scythe blade under their noses. “Well, I’ll be usin’ it ter slay anyrat wot’s not wid me. ’Cos if’n yer not wid me, yer agin me, see! Now, up wid yer paws all dose who’s wid the chief o’ dis gang!”

  Knowing Groffgut’s dangerous temper, the gang had no option but to raise their paws. Groffgut made a point of counting and naming them to reassure himself.

  “Dat’s Frogeye, Plugtail, Rashback, Obbler an’ Fleddy. Oi, Threetooth, is yore paw up or down?”

  Threetooth, who had been nursing his chewed ear with both paws, sullenly raised one. “S’up, Chief.”

  The gangleader nodded. “Dat’s good, ’cos I’m gunna need yew.” ’

  Frogeye knew that he was waiting for somebeast to ask, so he obliged. “Are yer gunna tell us de plan, Chief?”

  Groffgut dropped his tone dramatically. “Der’s seven of us, right? Lissen, we sneaks up to dat wall, an’ four of us, me’n Frogeye’n’Rashback, an’ Plugtail, lets Obbler an’ Fleddy climb up an’ stand on our shoulders. Next, the climber gets up onto Obbler’n’Fleddy’s ’eads. It’s easy den. All the climber does is slings my sword up onna rope an’ catch der top o’ that wall, pull hisself over an’ open dat big door to lerrus all in. Good plan, eh mates?”

  Threetooth began protesting as he backed off down the ditch. “Y’mean I’ve gorra be de climber? I’m no good at climberin’, I swear I ain’t, Chief!”

  Groffgut shoved Rashback and Frogeye forward. “Grab’im!” They seized the unfortunate Threetooth firmly.

  Groffgut spat on his rusty blade, eyeing his victim. “I told yer, if’n ye ain’t for me, yer agin me. So, where d’ye want it, eh? In the gut, across yer throat or in yer lousy ’eart, ’old ’im tight, mates!”

  Threetooth babbled like a brook in flood. “I don’t wanna get kil’t, I’ll climb, don’t slay me, Chief! I’ll climb der wall for ye!”

  Groffgut thrust his face close to Threetooth. “Ho yer’ll climb right enuff, or I’ll skin yer alive afore I kills yer. Plug, where’s dat rope we tied de h’ eagle up wid? Knot it round me sword ’andle, will ye.”

  All the gang members were young rats, Obbler and Fleddy the two youngest. The latter was becoming quite taken with the idea of burgling Redwall Abbey, but he had a question to ask of his leader first.

  “Ye said der was all sortsa good stuff in dat place, Chief. Wot sorta good stuff?”

  Groffgut saw this as an opportunity to fire his gang to great efforts. Unfortunately, he was not good at speech making. “Er, lotsa good stuff! Everythink’s in der, mates.”

  Young Fleddy pressed him further. “Y’mean good stuff like nice vikkles, Chief?”

  The gang leader nodded sagely. “Aye, more’n yew could eat, loads more!”

  Obbler picked his teeth with a grimy claw. “Huh, I ’ope der’s more’n Fleddy kin eat, ’cos I wanna fill me belly, too. I likes h’ apple pie, ’cos I ’ad a bit once, an’ it tasted nice!”

  Groffgut clapped him heartily on the back. “Don’t fret yer’ead, mate. They got enuff h’apple pies fer all of us!”

  A moment later, Groffgut was sorry that he had spoken. It seemed that the rest of the gang were fond of pies, though each had his own individual favourite.

  “An’ strawb’rry pies
, too, Chief?”

  “My ole granny used ter bake tater pies, wid onions in ’em. D’yer think dey’ll ’ave tater pies like me ole granny’s?”

  “Blackberry pies is bestest, big fat juicy ones!”

  “Worrabout plum pies, bet they’re juicier, eh, Chief?”

  “Roobab pies is good, wid lotsa ’oney on, though. D’yer think dey puts ’oney on their roobab pies in der, Chief?”

  Groffgut kicked the last speaker soundly, having heard enough about their favourite pies. “Will youse all shurrup? Yis yis, dey’ve got loadsa diff’rent pies in der. Now let’s gerron wid it, eh!”

  Creeping out of the ditch, the gang made it across the path, into the shadow of the wall. Groffgut and the three he had nominated flattened themselves against the wall.

  Their leader whispered urgently to Fleddy and Obbler, “Cummon youse two, up yer get. Stand tight, mates!”

  It was not as easy as it had sounded. There were muttered complaints as soon as the two younger rats began clambering over the four who formed the bottom line.

  “Nyyurk! Don’t stand on me nose like dat, clumsypaws!”

  “Oooh, yew stuck yore footpaw in me eye, gerroff!”

  “Stop ticklin’ an’ git yer tail outta me ear, willyer!”

  Groffgut gasped as his stomach was kicked hard. “I’ll tickle yer ears wid me sword if’n yer don’t shut yer big noisy gobs. Threetooth, it’s yore turn. Gerron top of their ’eads afore yer sling der rope!”

  Unknown to the gang, they had been observed as soon as they left the ditch. Abbess Lycian had spotted them as she stood up to pour tea for herself and Burbee. She quickly informed Oreal Gatekeeper, who shot off to the Abbey and brought Skipper, Brink, Foremole Grudd and his entire crew up to the west wall.

  They took a secret peep at the rat gang and held a whispered conference. Skipper’s initial idea was to exit the Abbey by the south wickergate, surround the rats and finish them off. The Abbess was horrified by the plan.

  “But Skipper Banjon, they’re the same age as your own daughter. How could you kill such young creatures?”