As the rats scurried to do his bidding, Ziral sat down beside him, nibbling at a juicy grass blade. "The Abbey of Redwall is not far west of here."
Mokkan closed his eyes, savoring the sun's warmth. "I know that, but we don't make a move until the trackers find Vannan, Ascrod, Gelltor and Predak and bring them back here. Relax, vixen, there's no hurry."
However, Ziral was unable to rest. She paced the bank, honing her ax blade on a sliver of shale. "I'll relax when we're back on the island with that mother of ours. Halfwitted old fool, you'd think she has enough possessions, but no, all she does is witter on from morn till night, 'I must be surrounded by beauty, I must be surrounded by beauty!' I don't know how our sister Lantur stands it. I'd like to surround her with a couple of boulders tied to her neck and drop her in the lake, then she could be surrounded by fishes!"
Mokkan opened one eye. "It's treason to speak about the High Queen in such a manner, you know that?"
Ziral snorted contemptuously and flung her ax. It buried its blade deep in the sycamore trunk.
Mokkan sniggered dryly. "Temper, temper, sister of mine! That sort of behavior won't do you any good."
Ziral's pale eyes blazed. She pushed aside a water rat, sending the creature staggering into the shallows as he tried to hold on to the bundle of kindling wood he was carrying. The vixen Marlfox jerked her axblade viciously from the sycamore trunk. "High Queen? Silth is nought but a doddering old wreck who hides behind silken curtains. Why doesn't she die and leave the island to us, her own brood?"
Mokkan raised himself on one paw, smiling. "That's when the trouble will really start. There're seven of us, we'd never be able to share all that wealth and rule the island together from Castle Marl. Not without killing each other off. Remember, we're Marlfoxes, born to stealth and deceit. Only one of us could ever rule the island."
Ziral made as if to sheathe her axblade beneath her cloak, then instead she suddenly brought it about in a scything swipe, only to find it locked against the curve of her brother's ax. Mokkan forced the vixen's ax to the ground and trapped it beneath his footpaw. He continued smiling at Ziral.
"You see what I mean, sister!"
Chapter 6
Janglur Swifteye gazed in awe and admiration at the tapestry hanging on the west wall of the Abbey's Great Hall. It depicted vermin fleeing in all directions from the figure standing boldly at its center, Martin the Warrior. The armor-clad mouse leaned upon the hilt of his fabulous sword, a friendly reckless smile on his striking features.
Janglur whistled softly. "Now there stands a warrior among warriors, by the seasons! He looks so confident an' strong, small wonder those vermin are fleein' for their lives, mate!"
Rusvul pointed to the name embroidered on the border. "Aye, that's Martin the Warrior. He was the creature who freed Mossflower from tyranny an' helped to found this Abbey of Redwall. I felt just as you do, when I first saw him. This tapestry means a great deal to any creature calling itself a Redwaller. But come an' join the company at vittles afore that hare an' his performin' troupe do a vanishin' act with all the food. Twist me tail! Those actors can put it away!"
Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop was on his fourth, bowl of summer salad with celery cheese and barley bread. Between salads he had demolished a number of strawberry cream tarts, a mushroom and leek pasty with gravy and a portion of woodland trifle topped with meadowcream that would have fed four Dibbuns for two days. The hare waggled his ears appreciatively. I say, you chaps, this spread is absojollylutely enscrunchable! My compliments to the cook, Lady Cregga, marm!"
The Badgermum put aside her apple turnover with maple syrup. "Tell him yourself, mister Florian. He's just resigned at the thought of having to cater for you again!"
The entire table of guests fell about with laughter. Florian looked slightly baffled, and attacked a wedge of plum pudding pensively.
"Flippin' strange feller. You'd think a cook'd enjoy servin' up dinner to a chap who enjoys his tuck, wot?"
Dannflor sat between Song and Dippler, advising them on the fare. "Here, Dipp, try some o' this candied fruit sponge, you'll like it. Song, here's some deeper'n ever turnip 'n'tater'n'beetroot pie."
Foremole winked broadly at the pretty young squirrel. "Hurr, you'm gonna loik et, missie, us'n's h'eat et noight'n'day. 'Tis ee moles' fayvurrt grub, burr aye!"
Rusvul treated Janglur to a tankard of October Ale and a thick slab of yellow cheese studded with hazelnuts and carrot, with a small farl of hot brown bread. "Git that down yore famine-fed chops, mate. 'Twill make yer feel like a real warrior!"
Janglur's hooded eyes gazed around at the scene. "I came here once when I was but a mite. Have y'ever seen a more cheery an' welcomin' bunch than these Red-wallers? No wonder travelers tell tales an' legends of this Abbey!"
Dwopple was sitting on Skipper's lap, in company with Blinny and Wugger. The otter Chieftain allowed them to sample his soup.
"Eat 'earty, mateys. 'Tis called watershrimp an' 'otroot soup, full o' dried watershrimps, bulrush tips, ransoms, watercress an' special spices. Otters like it 'cos it makes 'em big'n'strong!"
Sister Sloey rapped Skipper's paw with her fork. "You are naughty, Skipper. Those Dibbuns won't be able to cope with your dreadful hot spicy soup."
The big otter chortled as he saw the Dibbuns ladle soup from his bowl. "Marm, beggin' yore pardon, but I'm a great believer in lettin' young 'uns find out things for theirselves. This'll learn 'em a lesson."
However, contrary to expectations Dwopple and the molebabes thoroughly enjoyed the fiery concoction.
"Burr, ee soop be luvly an' warm. Oi dearly loiks gudd soop!"
"Mmmm! Dwopple 'ave more a diss soop, tasty nice!"
The delicious repast continued into late evening, when candles and lanterns were lit in Great Hall. During a lull in the proceedings, Log a Log hailed Florian.
"Ahoy there, matey, how's about you an' yore troupe puttin' on that show you promised when we rescued yer cart from the swamp?"
The hare stood and bowed to the assemblage. "Why not indeed? The Wandering Noonvale Companions would be churlish in the extreme not to return the compliment of such fabulous fare. But I know that seated here at table this evenin' is one among us who possesses a voice of pure gold. Janglur's daughter, who is aptly named Song. Mayhap she would honor us? In anticipation of this, I meself scribed a small ballad." Florian produced a scroll with a resounding flourish. "Ahem, a few simple lines I recorded while in the paws of the muse, wot wot! Goes to the tune of 'Breeze in the Meadow.' D'you know that one, Song?"
The young squirrel took the scroll and studied the lines. "I'd be pleased to, sir. These words fit the tune nicely. Father?"
Janglur smiled proudly as he played the introduction on his reed flute. Song clasped her paws in front of herself and took a deep breath. All eyes were riveted on her as the first heartbreakingly sweet notes poured forth, echoing slightly through the ancient hall.
"Our thanks to you friends, our thanks to one and all,
For kindly asking us to join you at Redwall,
We saw from afar, just as we thought we should,
Your Abbey like a gem, set in Mossflow'r's green wood.
The welcome you gave us was like we'd never known,
Like family you treat us, as if we were your own,
The bells tolled so pretty, out o'er the countryside,
A message of friendship, it echoed far and wide,