I? shouting, "Be sure to watch the shore tomorrow, Urthstripe.
'f See what I'm going to do with your pet bunnies. Hahahaha!"
Urthstripe put his shoulder against the boulder and heaved
it back into place. Bart Thistledown poured a small beaker of
' water from their meager supply and made Pennybright drink
v it slowly.
- "Don't fret, Penny old gel. Losin' a battle doesn't mean we've lost the war."
..; Ferahgo watched as Klitch directed his soldiers to.drive stakes '!--deep into the sand. Keeping his voice casual, the Assassin
-$-, addressed his son.
f "Forgrin and Raptail are both dead. Your little plan
;gt; failed."
V Klitch picked up a mallet and gave one of the stakes a
" knock. "Oh yes? And what plan was that, old one?"
; Ferahgo seized Klitch's paw, holding the mallet still. "The
ft plan to kill me. I killed Forgrin and Raptail."
H "Very clever, I'm sure." Klitch wrenched his paw away
-s-'4 and went on hammering at the stake. "But I know nothing of gt;any plan to kill you. My plan was to take hostages, and I've done that. If I'd planned to kill you I wouldn't have failed at that either. Out of my way, old weasel!"
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Big Oxeye peered through the net holes at Klitch and his soldiers driving stakes into the sand. "What I wouldn't give for two minutes alone with that evil little brat!"
"We fell fer that one, Ox." Sapwood rubbed his head ruefully. "Hi wonder what they're a-cookin' up for us?"
A ferret jabbed a spearbutt at him, laughing nastily. "Wouldn't yer like to know! Well, you 'ave a nice sleep an' you'll find out tomorrer!"
33
The Joseph Bell tolled out mournfully across a quiet summer morning. Mrs. Faith Spinney sat on the west wallsteps, sobbing gently into her flowered apron. Her husband Tudd sat beside her, resting his chin on his walking stick as he stared across the Abbey grounds through tear-dewed eyes.
"Pore old Burrley. I can't believe he's dead. .Not Burrley me best cellarmate. Who'll 'elp me to brew October ale an' roll those liddle casks o' berry wine about?"
Faith sniffed loudly as she dried her eyes and stood up. **Oh, that dreadful Dryditch Fever. Wot did we ever do wrong that made fortune visit it upon our Abbey? Pore Mr. Burrley, he were such a gentle ol' mole. Ah well, tears won't make anythin' aright. I'd best make meself busy. There's lunch t' :be made an' sickbeasts to care for. Now don't you sit out 'ere too long, my Tudd. Go an' 'ave a nap in your chair. You still ain't well enough t' be out an' about." ; Tudd pulled himself up shakily on his walking stick and hobbled alongside Faith toward the Abbey. "I'll go an' set awhile in the cellar among the barrels. That's where me 'n' Burrley sat yamin' many an' ot afternoon. Oh, smash my prickles! I wish it'd been me as was taken, an' not that good lt;H' mole feller."
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The Abbey door opened and Foremole trundled out with his crew, bearing with them the sad little bundle that had been their friend Burrley. Foremole wiped his eyes on a spotted kerchief and tugged his snout respectfully to the two hedgehogs.
"Burr, 'tis a sad mom oi bid 'ee, guddbeasts. Us'ns will 'ave ol' Burrley putten to rest at late noontoid. Will 'ee tell everbeast within 'ee Abbey?"
Tudd patted the bundle and nodded brokenly. "Thankee, Foremole. I'll let 'em all know. They'll want t' be at Burrley's last restin'. He were greatly loved by all."
In the Infirmary and the upper gallery the beds were packed end to end. Abbess Vale and Furgle the Hermit hovered anxiously about Brother Hollyberry's bed, mopping his brow and rubbing his paws. Hollyberry lay still, his old face thin and ashen. Vale pawed her girdle cord distractedly.
"Oh, Furgle, can't you do anything to snap him out of it?"
"I wish I could, Abbess." The woodvole Hermit shrugged helplessly. "Hollyberry is in a deep faint. I know naught of such things. If he goes any deeper we'll surely lose him."
Bremmun levered himself weakly up off his pillows. "Ooooh, I'm aching all over! Don't even think of losing Brother Hollyberryonly he knows how to mix the medicine that's keeping us all alive. If he goes then who will be able to make it?"
Thrugann had been bathing little Droony's brow. She hurried over and hushed Bremmun. "Keep yore voice down, squirrel. These sick creatures got enough t' worry about without you startin' off a panic!"
Abbess Vale grasped the otter's paw beseechingly. "You'd know how to make the medicine, Thrugann. You collected the herbs for Bremmun. Surely he told you how to blend them together?"
"Oh, Abbess, marm, I only wish he had." Thrugann shook her head sadly. "I can find herbs an' pick 'em, but make 'em into medicine, never!"
Droony the infant mole woke up and began crying. "Whurr
be moi ol' nuncle Burrley? Burrhurrhurrhurr."
Thrugann hurried to comfort the little fellow, drying his tears and reassuring him. "There there. Hushabye, mole. Nuncle Burrley's gone away, but you'll see him agin some sunny season."
Abbess Vale swayed slightly, clasped a paw to her face and fell with a bump to the gallery floor. Faith Spinney had just arrived with a jug of soup and some bowls. She set the tray down and hurried across to help her old friend. The Abbess lay senseless.
"Oh, mercy sakes, somebeast 'elp 'er, please!" Faith looked around wildly.
Thrugann swept the frail form up in her strong paws. "Lan' sakes, I knowed this'd 'appen. She's been runnin' about 'ere takin' care of everybeast except 'erself. Furgle, it looks like one o' those faints to me. What d'you think?"
The Hermit needed only one glance to confirm his worst fears. "Lackaday! This is the worst thing that could happen right now."
Thrugann looked around gnawing her lip worriedly. "There's not an empty bed in the whole place for 'er."
"Oh yes there is." Faith Spinney dropped her voice to a whisper. "Burrley's bed is still empty in the dormitory. We'd best take pore Vale down there."
The dormitory was silent. Hastily Thrugann !aid Abbess Vale on the bed and dashed around checking on the patients. They had all gone into a deep faint, with the exception of Blossom the mousemaid, who was feebly shaking her comatose sister, Turzel, and weeping softly.
"Wake up, Turzel. Please, please wake up."
There was a pawstep on the stairs. Thrugann and Faith turned to see Furgle standing in the doorway.
"Er, er, the medicine has just run out and er, er.... " The Hermit stood fidgeting with an empty medicine bowl in the doorway until Faith Spinney snatched it impatiently from him.
"Goodness me, Mister Furgle, stop stammerin' about. Is there somethin' you've got to tell us?"
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He sighed and sat down on the floor. "There'll be another empty bed in the upper gallery. We've just lost Bremmun!" Thrugann shook her head. "But that ain't possible. I was only talkin' to Bremmun a moment ago. Oh, tell me 'e ain't dead, Furgle!" The Hermit shook his head. "I wish I could, marm. I was wiping his brow when he looked me in the eye and said he was tired, then he just turned on his back and closed his eyes and died."
Faith Spinney sat down on the floor, her face pale and shocked. "Oh dearie me, that means there's only we three an' my Tudd down in the cellars who ain't down with Dryditch Fever. We're all that's left standin' on our paws in Redwall Abbey!"