Part 10 (1/2)

Standing waist-deep in the shallow river, Graypatch eyed the lines of crew and oarslaves either side of the banks. He raised his sword, bringing it down with a splash into the water as he yelled, ”Pull! Pull! Bend yer backs an' curse yer mothers! Pull, I say!”

Grunting and sweating, the crew heaved on the taut ropes across their shoulders, digging their claws into the sand for purchase.

”Pull, you 'orrible seasc.u.m, pull! You couldn't drag a worm out o' bed between the lot of yer. Pull!”

The ropes creaked and groaned as Darkqueen began to move forward, fraction by agonizing fraction. Gray-patch waded from the river and took a place at the head of the port rope.

”Hoho! She's movin', me lazy lads. Pull, pull as if you were pullin' buckets o' dark wine from a barrel. Pull!”

Darkqueen had moved twice her own considerable length when the river shallowed out drastically, and she buried her nose in a sandbank.

Bigfang threw down the rope. Followed by many others, he waded into the river and began drinking the fresh running water.

114.

Graypatch drew his sword in high bad temper and began bellowing hoa.r.s.ely, ”Get out of there, you worthless idlers! Get back on your ropes, you frog-hearted, backbitin', jelly-clawed slackers. I'll carve the hide from your bones. I'll strangle every jackrat of yer. I'll Across the open sea, just beyond the tideline, Garrtail's s.h.i.+p Greenfang was bearing down on them under full sail!

”Mariel, your name is Mariel, daughter of Joseph the Bellmaker.”

The mousemaid hauled her Gullwhacker in from the infirmary window, where it had hung to dry. She swung it experimentally, nodding with satisfaction at the clean knotted hemp.

”I know my name, Dandin. And I know my father's name. I can remember everything now. Stand aside.”

Dandin and Saxtus followed her down the stairs, across Great Hall, into the Abbey kitchens. Mariel picked up an empty floursack and shook it out. She started packing it with any food to paw. Saxtus nibbled his paw agitatedly. ”What are you doing, Mariel?”

The mousemaid continued filling the sack. ”Packing rations, Saxtus.”

Friar Alder and his young a.s.sistant c.o.c.kleburr came bustling up.

”Hi there, young missy. What do you think you're up to?”

Mariel tested the weight of the sack and threw it across her shoulder. ”Borrowing some supplies, Friar. Don't worry, I'll repay them.”

Friar Alder held out a restraining paw. ”Now, hold on a moment, please.”

Mariel grasped Gullwhacker tightly. ”Stay out of my way, Friar, please. You have all been very kind to me at Redwall and I would hate to harm any Abbey crea- ture, but there's something I've got to do-and n.o.beast will stop me.”

c.o.c.kleburr hopped up and down, stumbling on his ap.r.o.n. ”Walloping winters, Friar. Get out the way. I've seen her use that Gullywhacker thing!”

Dandin jumped between the Friar and Mariel. ”Violence is no answer, Mariel. We are creatures of peace. It's wrong to offer harm to a Redwaller.”

The mousemaid shook her head. ”Don't you understand, Dandin? I don't wish to harm any creature in this Abbey, but I have scores to settle with my enemies. Look, just let me go and leave me alone, will you.”

”Oh, and what do you plan to do then, Storm Gullwhacker?”

Mariel turned. Standing in front of the great oven was Mother Mellus, accompanied by the Abbot, Simeon and Tarquin.

”My name's not Storm Gullwhacker, it's Mariel,” she said defiantly.

Blind Simeon tapped his way forward until he touched her sleeve. ”Then start acting like Mariel and not behaving like the old Storm Gullwhacker. We are trying to help you, child.”

Mariel looked at the floor. ”Don't need any help.”

”Not true, Mariel.” There was a touch of firmness in Mellus's voice as she interrupted. ”Every creature needs help. How do you suppose we live here in harmony together? By helping each other. This Abbey was not built by one creature; it needed cooperation and help. Tell me, where do you think you are going with a knotted rope in a borrowed habit carrying a sack of stolen food?”

Suddenly Mariel felt helpless in the face of all this peaceful opposition. The sack slipped from her paw as she brushed away a threatening teardrop.

Tarquin saved the situation by throwing a rangy paw about her shoulders. ”Come on, old gel. Chin up an' never say boo to a goose, wot? Tell you what we'll do- 116.

let's tootle over to that dusty old gatehouse place an' hold a council o' war. Get the stew sorted from the dumplin's, eh?”

Abbot Hubert slipped Mariel a clean kerchief and stood in front of her as she scrubbed at her eyes.

”Splendid idea, Tarquin. A good sensible talk never hurt any creature. Come on, we'll all go together. Many heads are better than one.”

The gatehouse proved far too dusty and cramped, so they sat on the low steps in the shade of the west rampart. The Abbot ordered lunch to be sent out to them, with cold mint and rose cordial.

Mother Mellus folded her paws. ”Now, where exactly do you plan on going?”

”Terramort Isle.” Mariel's answer was loud and clear.

”Do you know how to get there, or where it is?”

”No, but don't worry, I'll find it myself.”

Simeon chuckled. ”As the blind squirrel said, reaching for a cloud.”

Mariel bristled. ”What does that mean, that I'm stupid!”

”Don't be silly,” Tarquin interrupted. ”Oh, haha, I say, 'scuse me. Lunch, chaps. Here comes lunch!”

As they sat eating, the Abbot gave Mariel a friendly wink. ”Simeon didn't mean anything. All he said really was that you need help. I think the first thing to do is to find out where Terramort Isle is; at least that will be a start. Has anyone ever heard of Terramort in the past, any mention from travelers, scrolls, books, old rhymes -anything at all?”

”I think I may be of some help there.” Brother Hubert had been eavesdropping on the conference from the door of the gatehouse. He wandered over cleaning dust from his spectacles. ”Hmm, is that food I see? I think I'll join you.”

Seating himself comfortably, he began helping himself to cheese, bread and cold cider.

117.

Simeon coughed politely. ”Ahem! I don't suppose that you've ever heard of Terramort, Hubert?”

Brother Hubert blinked over the top of his spectacles. ”On the contrary, as soon as I heard the name it brought to mind a young mouse who should have been learning the precepts of Redwall Abbots in bygone days. Yes, he thought I was dozing and he began leafing through the scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler ...”

Tarquin hastily swallowed a redcurrant m.u.f.fin. ”Fieldroan! Well, there's a thing! My Father Lorquin knew him, of course. Old Fieldroan had more seasons to gray his hairs than a hedgehog has spikes when he and the jolly old pater were chums. D'y'know, I thought I recognized that poem young Saxtus recited at the feast-know bits of it m'self. Blow me if it isn't one of Fieldroan's very own rhymes!”

Brother Hubert sniffed severely. ”Indeed. Well, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, Fieldroan was a compulsive traveler. I met him one winter and sheltered him in the gatehouse through half a season of deep snow. He left some of his scrolls with me because they were becoming too bulky to carry about on his journeys.”

This time it was Dandin's turn to interrupt. ”Where are they, Brother Hubert? Do you have them?”

”Patience, young mouse, patience. I'll have to search them out. Unfortunately my gatehouse has become a little, ahem, untidy of late.”