"Hah! Ole scaletail thinks he's throwin' us off the scent by jumpin' in the ditch an' sloshin' through the water. Just look 'ere, Martin, bruised nettles, broken reeds, mud sloshed everywhere, it's plainer'n the nose on yer face!"
They walked along the edge of the ditch following the signs as the sun rose on a bright spring day.
Chapter 20
Breakfast at Redwall that morning was a subdued affair. Tansy hardly noticed little Arven and the molemaid Diggum helping themselves slyly to the blackcurrant muffins on her platter. She looked up from a beaker of mint tea growing cold in front of her; Auma the badger Mother was rising from her seat. A gradual hush fell on the diners as Auma's paw went up.
"Friends, there is a lot of gossip and rumor abroad in our Abbey since last night, so let me set matters straight. Our Abbot and young Viola bankvole have gone missing; they are probably lost in Mossflower Wood somewhere. Martin has taken some companions and gone to search for them. I am sure that eventually they will all come home safely. Meanwhile, our life at Redwall must carry on as usual; Abbot Durral would wish it so. Therefore I ask you to carry on with your work as you always do, look after the Dibbuns, do not wander outside the Abbey gates, see to your chores, and above all please do not indulge in gossip and scaremongering. That is all."
Diggum absently took a gulp of Arven's pennycloud cordial. "Worrum 'bout ee gurt blizzard, will ee cum back an' eat us oop?"
Arven considered this as he stole Diggum's nutbread. "Naw, blizzards on'y eat h'Abbots an' voles's!"
Tansy wiped cordial from Diggum's chin. "The word is lizard, not blizzard. And don't say such horrible things. What has Mother Auma just said about gossiping?"
Arven wrinkled his nose at the hogmaid as he climbed down from the dining bench. "She din't say Dibbuns not gossip, we be likkle an' don't know no better. C'mon, Diggum."
With their paws about each other's shoulders, the unstoppable pair ambled off chanting at each other, "Gossip gossip gossip gossip gossip!"
Rollo joined Tansy, nodding in the Dibbuns' direction. "What are those-two up to?"
Tansy shook her head, smiling fondly at the retreating Dibbuns. "Oh, they're just gossiping, they're too little to know any better."
Rollo adjusted his glasses higher on his nose. "Let us gossip a bit about these pearls. Auma tells me we need all six of them to ransom Viola and the Abbot from their captors."
Tansy got up and accompanied Rollo outside. "That's a lot easier said than done. This third rhyme has me well and truly stumped, Rollo. Did you dream up any solutions during the night? I know I didn't."
Piknim and Craklyn were already outside, sitting on the ramparts over the gatehouse. Teasel the hogwife was with them, sipping at a large mug of dandelion tea.
"Mornin', Rollo, mornin', Tansy. My, wot a nice day 'tis. I'm just coolin' my ole paws out 'ere an' takin' tea, them kitchens gets so steamy 'ot after breakfast."
Rollo and Tansy went up to the walltop and continued studying the rhyme with Piknim and Craklyn, whilst Teasel sipped tea and hummed to herself.
Tansy passed the thin paper to Piknim. "Oh, here, you have it. I'm getting dizzy just looking at that rhyme and getting nowhere with it. My sad third tear is shed, for one who now lies dead, a friendly foe it was to me, a cunning old adversary. Hmm, I can repeat it by heart now. Teasel, you knew Fermald the Ancient as well as any; what friends did she have to your knowledge?
The good hogwife scratched her headspikes. "Friends, y'say? I don't know as Fermald ever spoke of otherbeasts as friends, 'ceptin' that wounded vermin Graylunk an' maybe ole Grimjaw, an' that'n she spoke of as friend an' foe in the same breath. Aye, Fermald were a right ole strange 'un!"
Rollo looked up sharply from the rhyme. "Grimjaw? Who in the name of autumn apples was Grimjaw?"
Teasel sipped at her tea, rocking back and forth. "Fermald often told me about Grimjaw, though goodness knows wot she'd 'ave done with the thing if ever she'd 'ave caught it."
Rollo blinked impatiently over his glasses at the hogwife. "Really, marm, will you please stop talking in riddles and tell us what you know about this ... this Grimjaw!"
Teasel blew huffily on her tea to cool it. "Now don't you get all sharp wi' me, mister Recorder, or I shan't say another word. Politeness don't cost pear pudden, they say!"
Tansy smiled winningly, stroking the ruffled hogwife's paw. "There, I'm sure Rollo didn't mean to be sharp, missus Stump. Please tell us about Grimjawit's very important that we know."
Teasel cast a fond glance at the young hogmaid. "Well, all right, missie. Never mind that ole grump, I'll tell you. Every time there was about t'be a feast or celebration, Fermald brought out her rod'n'line to fish the Abbey pond. She was forever try in' to catch a big ole grayling that'd lived there for more seasons than most could remember. Fermald wanted that fish to grace the Abbot's table, but she never did manage to catch it. She'd stop out there from dawn till dusk, empty-pawed an ungry. Later, I'd serve 'er supper leftovers. 'Teasel,' she'd say, 'that grayling is my best friend and my worst foe. The long hours I spent trying to catch that fish,' she'd say, 'but he won't be caught, the old villain, he always escapes my line!' That's wot she'd say."
Suddenly everything became clear to Craklyn. She waved the paper, chanting,
"Inside the outer walls I lie,
Without me you would surely die.
I am not earth nor am I stone,
No shape at all to call my own,
Not bird or beast or flow'r or tree,
Yet captives live within me free!
"The answer is water! Without it anybeast would surely die. Water's not earth, stone, beast, bird, flower or tree. It has no shape of its own. Fish swim freely in it, though they are really captives of whatever stretch of water they live in. Our water lies within the Abbey wallsI can see it from here, the Abbey pond!"
Teasel watched the young ones scampering down the steps and speeding over the lawns, with Rollo in their wake. She sipped her tea. "Dearie me an' lackaday, dashin' an' a rushin' about, where'11 it all end? Ah well, leastways now a body can sup 'er dan'elion tea in peace 'n' quiet, afore it's time t'get lunch prepared!"
The four searchers stood at the edge of Redwall's pond. It was a pretty spot. Rushes and sedge sprouted thick in the shallows of its far edge, and an old, flat-bottomed punt lay moored at the east bank. At its southern end the ground was light and sandy, running from a soft mossy hillock into the sunwarmed shallows. Deeper out the water took on an emerald-green hue, and myriad small flying insects dipped to cause ripples in the stillness.
Gazing at the peaceful scene, Tansy raised a question which had been bothering her since she had first heard about the grayling.
"How do we know old Grimjaw is dead? Fermald never caught the fish and we've only her word that he died. Maybe Grimjaw was just too old to rise to the bait; perhaps he's still alive down there."
It was a sobering thought. None of them fancied searching a dim pond where a big grayling might be lurking in the depths or hiding among the reeds to defend its territory against intruders.
Then Tansy came up with a quick solution. "Hi, Glenner, got a moment to spare down here?" she called to the walltop.
Glenner was a young female otter, one of Skipper's crew. She was still on walltop patrol, keeping an eye out for gulls or vermin. Glad to be relieved of the monotonous task, she bounded readily down, calling, "Good morrow, mates, anythin' I can do for ye?''
Flicking a pebble into the pond, Tansy watched the ripples spread. "Glenner, d'you think there's a big old grayling in there?" she asked.
The otter thumped her tail thoughtfully on the bank. "I dunno, could be. Skipper always told us when we were young never to disturb big ole fishes, they can be very dangerous an' bad-tempered. There's an ole otter poem we had t'learn as young 'uns.