"Vikkles to 'ungry beaks!" Dubdub echoed.
Packing all they needed, the travellers set off at a leisurely pace into the woodlands. Jango walked up front with Buckler.
"I don't reckon we'll make Redwall Abbey tonight. Still, no hurry--we'll take brekkist in the Abbey tomorrow mornin', if'n we gets an early start. Then we'll talk to Abbess Marjoram an' her elders about the problem of our young uns. I'm sure she'll be able to 'elp us."
Buckler ducked an overhanging yew branch. "You seem to have confidence in Redwall an' its creatures, Jango."
116
The Guosim Chieftain smiled. "Aye, an' so would you, if you'd ever visited the Abbey afore, mate."
They trudged steadily onward. In his mind, Buckler was going over all that had happened to him and Diggs since they had left Salamandastron. Lord Brang was right, travel was an adventure, and there was more to come!
Much more.
117
11
The two fox jailers, Thwip and Binta, usually struck fear into the hearts of their little prisoners at Althier. Wielding whip and rod, they would swagger about, snarling and threatening the young creatures, reducing them to quivering wrecks.
However, this was not the case with the shrewmaid, Petunia Rosebud--or Flib, as she had named herself. The instant she was unbound from the spearhaft she had been carried on, she flew at her captors, attacking them savagely.
"Ya scrinjee-gobbed babe robbers, git yer filfy paws off a me or I'll rip yore 'eads off!"
Thwip cracked his lash. "Hoho, a tough un, eh?"
Binta came at Flib, swishing her cane. "Get in there with the others afore I beat the hide from yore back.... Eeeyah, she bit me!"
The shrewmaid had her teeth into Binta's ear. She hung on, growling like a wild beast. Thwip could not use his whip for fear of striking Binta. He grabbed Flib, trying to pry her loose from the other fox's ear.
"Right, I'm goin' to teach ye a lesson yer won't forget missy ... gnnarrrrgh!"
118
Two well-aimed kicks from Flib smashed into his mouth.
"Yeeeh yeeh! Guards! 'Elp us ... 'eeeeelp!"
It took four other Ravagers to subdue Flib. Swiftly binding her paws, they managed to fling her into the gloomy holding cavern.
Thwip held three broken teeth out to the guards. "Look wot she did ter me! That un's crazy mad, I tell yer!"
One of the guards passed Binta a pawful of dried moss. "Git that on yore lug, afore ye bleeds t'death."
The vixen could taste her own blood--it was running down the side of her muzzle. She spat out spitefully, "No vittles or drink for two days--that goes for 'em all! Maybe that'll calm 'er down, when the others see it's 'er fault they ain't gettin' fed!"
One of the guards, a stern-faced ferret, spoke. "That ain't fer you t'say, Binta. Our orders come from the Sable Quean, not from you. Now go an' get their grub ready."
Flib stared at her younger brother and sister in the badly lit cave. "Midda, Borti, wot are youse two doin' in 'ere?"
Borti began crying. Midda covered his mouth. "Shush, baby--look, it's our big sister!"
Flib was simmering with rage. She gnawed at the cord binding her paws, snapping at her younger sister, "Why'd ye let 'em capture Borti, eh?"
Midda snapped back at her, "If I'd run off an' left Borti, I might have got away You were on yore own--why did you let 'em capture you?"
Flib never answered. She bit away madly at her bonds, staring around at the pitiful groups of young beasts who cowered in the wall shadows. As she did, her temper became more unreasonable. She snarled at them, "Wot are yew lot starin' at? Why don't ye all try to escape, instead of jus' mopin' round?"
Flandor, the young male otter, gave her the answer. "Right, we charge the vermin without a weapon twixt us. A pile of young uns, some who can just about toddle,
119
an' some with little uns to look after, like yore sister. Have ye got any more bright ideas, shrew?"
Flib finished chewing through her bonds. She flung the cord away angrily. "No, riverdog--have yew?"
Flandor dropped his voice. "I'm rackin' my brain for a way out of here, but it ain't that simple. Most of 'em in here are too hungry t'think of plans. They're more worried about where their next meal is comin' from an' if it's goin' to be enough t'live on."
Tura the squirrelmaid sided with Flandor. "Aye, we heard the way you fought Thwip an' Binta out there. Very brave of ye, I'm sure. But think about this--they'll prob'ly stop our vittles as a punishment."
Even Midda was in agreement with Flandor and Tura. "Us older ones can stand a few days' hunger, but what about these poor babes? There's not just Borti. Infant mice, squirrels, hedgehogs, moles, even two little hares arrived just afore you did. How long d'ye think any of those can last without vittles?"
Flib was in no mood to be reasonable. She carried on rebelliously. "They can't stop the vittles. Let's all tell 'em so. C'mon, all of ye shout, We want vittles! Right, all together, now. One, two ... we want vittles!"
At first there was only Flib shouting. She began seizing others and shaking them. "Shout out, will ye? We want vittles. Shout! Shout!"
For some unknown reason, everybeast obeyed. Not only did they cry out, but they repeated, louder and louder, "We want vittles! We want vittles!"
The stern-faced ferret guard bellowed back at them, "Alright, stop that noise. The vittles are on their way!"
Flib felt triumphant. Her mood changed to one of optimism. She grinned at Flandor.
"See? I told ye so. If'n ye shout loud enough, they gotta do somethin' about it. Ahoy, wot's that you've got?"
Flandor held up a small wooden spoon. "It's my spoon. I had it with me when I was captured."
120
Flib took the spoon. She inspected it carefully before putting out a general question to all the prisoners. "Who else has a spoon, or any thin' like one?"
Several creatures had spoons, but the one who caught the shrewmaid's eye was a young mole. She had what looked like an old broken knife made of iron. "Et wurr moi ole granfer's, but et bee'd broked, so ee give'd et to oi."
Flib took it, along with several other spoons that were strongly made and a fork carved from some type of thick bone.
Midda cautioned her sister, "Hide 'em. The foxes are here with our vittles!"
Thwip had armed himself with a spear. He waved it at Flib. "Keep yer distance, shrew. I ain't servin' yer. Wot's left in the cauldron after they've all been served will do fer you!"
Flib silently joined the back of the line. When it was her turn, she scraped out the remains of the meagre meal. Plopping it on the piece of slate which Midda used as a plate, Flib said gruffly, "I don't want any o' that bilge. Give it t' Borti."
When the meal was over, the foxes removed the cauldron and the water tub, leaving the captives alone in the gloomy cavern.
Flib posted Jinty and Jiddle Witherspyk at the entrance. "Youse two, keep yer eyes peeled an' yer ears open. If'n ye hear anybeast comin', let us know, sharpish! Flandor, fetch me those tools--the knife'n'fork an' those spoons I picked out."
Tura the squirrelmaid watched Flib going to the rear of the cavern. "What are you goin' to do?"
The Guosim shrewmaid stared at the walls speculatively. "I was keepin' me eyes open when they carried me 'ere hangin' from that spearpole. I think this whole place is built underneath an ole giant of an oaktree. Look up. Can ye see the great thick roots runnin' all ways above us? My guess is right, eh?"
121
Flandor passed over the eating implements. "Maybe so, but wot does that prove?"
Flib explained, "No tree as big as an oak could grow on solid rock. Trees need earth, soil to grow in. Now, you there, molemaid, wot's yore name?"
The molemaid who had donated the broken iron knife curtsied, introducing herself. "Oi'm Gurchen, marm."
Flib could not help smiling. "Well then, Gurchen, yore a mole--take a look round this place an' tell me, where's the softest spot t'start diggin'?"