Boooooommmm! Didjety struck the drum hard with her cooking pan. “Silence, the pair of ye! This is gettin’ us nowhere. Any more arguin’ an’ I’ll settle it with this pan over both yore thick skulls, d’ye hear me?”
They both sulked about like two Dibbuns being sent to bed.
“Och, ’twas yore husband that started it, marm!”
“Ooh, did ye hear that, Didjety? He’s tryin t’put the blame on me now!”
“Aye, well that’s where the blame belongs, mah friend.”
“Oh no it doesn’t!”
“Och yes it does!”
Bonk! Bonk! Didjety once again wielded the pan as Yoofus and Doogy both stood, rubbing their heads. “I warned ye! Now let’s pack up an’ get goin’. I’ll lead the way. You two follow, I’ll find Redwall for ye.”
Yoofus touched his head gingerly. “But, me luv, ye’ve never been to Redwall Abbey afore!”
The volewife squared her shoulders decisively. “Maybe not, but I can’t make much more of a mess findin’ it than you two bright sparks. Come on, quick march!”
They crawled out of the little shelter, and Doogy shrugged. “Quick march sure enough, marm, but which way?”
Didjety placed her pan on the ground and spun it. She nodded at the direction the panhandle was pointing. “This way!”
Then she looked at Rockbottom. The little tortoise nodded his agreement.
Though they had to ford a shallow stream and skirt some patches of marshland, the going was fairly smooth. Wherever possible, the volewife kept to what looked like obvious paths betwixt the tall trees. Doogy followed behind her, rolling the great drum along, whilst Yoofus trudged in the rear.
The volethief began grumbling and muttering to the tortoise who was strapped to his back. “Sure I thought you’d have taken my side o’ things back there agin those two, but ye never supported me cause by a nod or a wink, did ye? Now look where it’s got us! We’ll wind up at the back of noplace like this. I’m tellin’ ye, me liddle stony friend, my Didjety’s a darlin’ creature, but she couldn’t find the floor if she fell on it. See, I told ye, she’s had to halt.”
Yoofus approached his wife triumphantly, nodding and smirking. “Sure, an’ why’ve ye stopped, me ould duckodill? Lost, are ye?”
Didjety looked up from the watercress she was gathering from the side of a tiny brook. “Does it look like I’m lost, ye great omardorm? Go an’ gather some firewood an’ I’ll make us somethin’ to eat. Mister Plumm, will you gather those wild mushrooms an’ pick some of that ransom? Not too much, though, it can taste a bit strong in a soup.”
Upon the mention of food, Yoofus hurriedly began gathering dead twigs and dried grass. “Soup! Will ye lissen to her? Mister Plumm, sir, don’t ye wish ye had a grand liddle wife like me?”
When it came to cooking, the volewife certainly knew what she was doing. Toasting the crusts of oatcake over the fire, she crumbled them into her cooking pan, which she had filled half full with brookwater. Borrowing Doogy’s dirk, she chopped her ingredients into the pan—a touch of the wild garlic known as ransom, a few dozen of the white mushrooms, lots of watercress, some dandelion roots, charlock pods, wild radish, hedge mustard, sweet woodruff petals and a good pinch of the rock salt which she always carried in her apron pocket. Yoofus and Doogy sat by the brook, sniffing appreciatively at the savoury aroma emanating from the bubbling pan over the fire.
The Highlander winked at the volethief as he fashioned some scoops from a piece of bark. “Yore a braw lucky beast, mah friend, havin’ a wee wifey who can make a meal out o’ nothin’. That soup smells bonny!”
Yoofus smiled. “An’ she can sing, too. Lissen!”
The Highlander pushed him playfully. “Aye, an’ ah ken she sings far better than ye do!”
Didjety stirred away at the thickening soup, singing in a clear, sweet tone.
“Now me mammy once said, don’t ye live all alone,
keep yore bits an’ small pieces together,
for one day you’ll need them to furnish yore home,
’neath a roof warm an’ safe from the weather.
For of all the fine places a heart’s ever known,
sure there’s none that I love like me dear little home.
Then go find ye someone who will care for ye good,
to sit quiet by yore side at the fire,
an’ if he treats ye decent as you hoped he would,
you’ll have all that your heart can desire.
For of all the fine places a heart’s ever known,
sure there’s none that I love like me dear little home.
Let the wind howl outside an’ the rain batter down,
with the hearth snug an’ cosy indoors,
no Queen in a palace who wears a gold crown,
knows a life full and happy as yours.
For of all the fine places a heart’s ever known,
sure there’s none that I love like me dear little home.”
Yoofus smiled fondly. “How would ye like a grand sweet wife like that now, Doogy Plumm?”
The Highlander rubbed his head thoughtfully. “Aye, she could slay all mah enemies by beltin”em o’er their skulls wi’ that cookpan o’ hers.”
The soup was thick and delicious. They shared it equally, with a small portion set aside to cool for Rockbottom.
Doogy watched the little creature as Didjety fed him from a folded dockleaf. “D’ye reckon he’ll ever talk one day?”
The volewife giggled. “Sure if he ever does, ’twill be only to ask wot’s for dessert! Won’t it, me little darlin’?”
The tortoise seemed to smile and nod his head. The Highlander was still curious about Rockbottom, though Yoofus and Didjety did not seem bothered at all.
Doogy stroked the little fellow’s head with his paw, enquiring further, “Ah wonder, has he ever ventured out o’ yon shell?”
The volethief replied, straight-faced, “He doesn’t like anybeast seein’ him wearin’ only his nightie. I saw him once, but he ran back into the shell.”
Doogy looked as if he believed Yoofus for a moment, then realised the water vole was joshing him. “Ye wee fibber!”
Yoofus looked innocent. “No I’m not!”
Doogy retorted, “An’ I say ye are!”
Didjety raised the empty cooking pan. “Here now, let’s have no more of that. Let’s be on our way.”
They continued the journey, Yoofus and Doogy lagging behind slightly, whispering to each other.
The Highlander shook his head. “Ah wonder if Tam an’ the Patrol made it back tae the Abbey.”
Yoofus watched his wife’s back as she plodded on with dogged determination. “Sure we’ll never know, mate. We’ll be wanderin’ this land until we’ve both got long grey beards an’ walkin’ sticks.”
Doogy nodded agreement; his confidence in their pathfinder was at a very low ebb. “Ah thought when we set out this mornin’ that yore wee wifey had some idea o’ the route tae go.”
Yoofus hitched Rockbottom up in his harness. “Mark my words, ould Doogy Plumm, we’re well lost. I don’t know wot possessed me t’let her lead the way. My Didjety’s never been much further than her own doorstep.”
A hill appeared ahead of them. Didjety hurried forward, ascending the steep slope. Yoofus stared up at her before commenting, “Didn’t we go up this hill yesterday? The pore creature’s demented, she’s dashin’ about like a madbeast now. Look!”
The volewife had reached the hilltop. She was dancing up and down, pointing frantically and shouting, “There it is! Redwaaaaaalllll!”
After a hasty scramble, Yoofus and Doogy joined her on the summit. The Highlander shaded a paw over his eyes. There in the distance he could see the south side of the Abbey.
The volethief cut a jig. Grabbing his wife, he hugged and kissed her, crying jubilantly, “Hahahaha! I knew ye’d find it, me own darlin’ sugarplum! Ye’d take us t’Redwall ye said, an’ sure enough ye did! Wasn’t I just sayin’ to Doogy here, if’n anybeast can get us to that Abbey, then my Didjety’s the one t’do it?”