"When I woke, it was late evening. Our babes were gone, Clerun was lying there dead, and the little home we had built together was in ruins, robbed and plundered. I staggered off into the woodlands, calling out for my little ones. After that, I don't recall anything else, until I woke up here. Oh, Buckler!" She broke down grieving again.
Buckler was rigid with sorrow and rage. He loosed his paw from Clarinna's, gritting out through clenched teeth, "Ravagers, eh! And there's that name again, Sable Quean! Hah, now we have another one to add to the list. Zwilt the Shade, carrying my family's broadsword and the Coin!"
Clarinna fell back upon the pillow, wailing, "My babies. What would anybeast want, stealing two tiny leverets, little helpless things!"
Buckler's long rapier swished as he drew steel. Dry-eyed and stone-faced, he kissed the blade. "I swear that Zwilt the Shade and his Ravagers--aye, and the one they call the Sable Quean--will die by my paw. Nor will I rest until the babes are safely back with their mother, the wife of my brother Clerun. I will wear the Coin of the Blade-master and pass on my brother's broadsword to his son. I take this oath upon the honour of the Kordyne family. This is my word!"
The high, bright sun was up and dawn well broken when Log a Log Jango led his Guosim in by the main gates. Buckler and Skipper took breakfast on the west walltop, watching them troop in.
The Otter Chieftain called out, "Ahoy, Jango--did ye have any luck out there?"
The shrew shook his grizzled head. "Nary a vermin
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whisker in sight, but don't worry. Soon as we're rested, we'll set out agin, matey. Oh, how's the hare lady farin'?"
Buckler replied, "She's not too good, mate. Bring your breakfast up here an' I'll tell ye the whole tale. Er, where's Diggs? I don't see him with your lot."
Jango came striding up the wallsteps. "I chased him off. Don't know where the nuisance is."
Buckler nodded. "I might've known that'd happen. Ole Diggs takes some gettin' used to. Was he chunnerin' again? Nothin' can silence that fat rogue."
Jango stamped a footpaw on the ramparts. "Chunnerin', is that wot ye calls it? The rascal never stops--he's like a babblin' brook, goin' on an' on. I kept warnin' Diggs to shut up, but he wouldn't. I told 'im he was endangerin' us all with the noise he was makin'. Enny'ow, one thing led to another, an' I told 'im to get lost. I think yore Diggs took my advice, 'cos we haven't seen 'im since."
An unmistakable sound, that of the chubby subaltern, rent the morning air. "Halloooo! I say there, you rotters, are you goin' to open this bloomin' gate an' let us in, wot?"
The shouts were coming from beyond the east wall.
Skipper and Buckler ran around there by way of the walltops. There was Diggs, looking up at the battlements, grinning like a demented frog. He had with him a ferret, whom he whacked with his loaded sling every time the vermin made a move.
Skipper smiled down at him. "Ahoy, young Diggs. Who's that scallywag ye have in tow?"
The tubby hare kicked the prisoner's tail end cheerfully. "C'mon, don't stand there like last season's leftover pudden. Tell the nice chap your flippin' name--smartly now, laddie buck!"
"Gripchun, sir, me name's Gripchun!" the unhappy captive shouted.
Two Guosim unlocked the east wickergate, and Diggs swaggered in, kicking the ferret before him.
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Jango glared at the garrulous hare. "Where did ye get that un?"
Diggs waggled his ears at the Shrew Chieftain. "Oh, nowhere, really, old Log a Thing. I just came across the blighter prowlin' round the shrubbery, so I surrounded him an' chunnered him into submission, wot!"
Jango glared at him sourly and stalked off.
Buckler clapped his friend on the back. "Good old Diggs! A captive, eh? I'll make him talk!"
Diggs threw a headlock on the wretched ferret. "Rather y'didn't, Buck. Leave old Gripchun t'me. I'll soon have the blighter talkin' faster'n me." He applied the headlock tighter. "Ain't that right, my stinky old friend? Dastardly Diggs the Terrible Torturer, that's what they call me!"
Assisted by Fumbril and Marjoram, Clarinna was escorted into Great Hall, where Diggs had bound Gripchun to a sandstone column.
Buckler pointed to the ferret. "Was this one of the vermin who attacked you, Clarinna?"
She shook her head. "No. They were all large rats, except for the dark-furred one, Zwilt. He's not one of them, I'm sure."
Diggs made a great show of rolling up his tunic sleeves. "Right ho, then, Gripchun, me foul old vermin. Let's find out a little bit about you, wot! Now, there's no sense in beatin' round the jolly old bush, so we'll get right to it. Can some kind creature please bring me a large sharp axe, the larger'n'sharper, the better? Oh, an' some boilin' water, about a cauldron full. Hmm, I suppose we'd better have a few iron pokers an' stuff to light a good roarin' fire. That'll do for now, wot. No good interrogatin' victims without the proper stuff!"
Abbess Marjoram was horrified. "Mister Diggs! Surely you're not planning on torturing this beast inside my Abbey?"
Diggs saluted cheerily. "Pardon me, marm. I'll take the
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scoundrel outside, if the noise bothers you, wot. These rascals do screech an' wail a bit, y'know!"
Turning his back on the ferret, Buckler tipped Marjoram a huge, mischievous wink. "You leave it to Diggs, marm. I've never known a vermin that wouldn't talk after a session with him!"
Marjoram knew then that it was all a ruse to loosen Gripchun's tongue. She kept up the pretence. "Well, take him outside, over to the west wall steps. I'm not having this Abbey messed up with the result of axes, pokers, boiling water and fires!"
Diggs bowed, making an elegant leg. "My thanks t'ye, marm. It shouldn't take too long."
Skipper chuckled. "Oh, I think it will--ole Gripchun's just fainted clear away with fright. Look at him!"
They carried the ferret out to lay him on the wallsteps, then waited until he stirred.
Buckler watched him closely, remarking to Diggs, "I think he should sing like a skylark now. Leave this to me-- you go and find something to eat, mate."
The tubby hare needed no second invitation. At the mere mention of food, he scooted off kitchenward.
Buckler borrowed a beaker of water from the gatehouse. He sprinkled it on Gripchun until the ferret was awake once more. Wide eyed, he lay there, not daring to move.
"That fat rabbet, Diggs, 'as 'e gone, sir?"
Buckler nodded. "Aye, but I can bring him back if ye so wish--"
The ferret let out a wail. "Noooooo! Don't let 'im near me, sir, please. I'll tell yer wot ye wants ter know, on me 'onner I will!"
Buckler patted his tear-stained muzzle. "That's the stuff--but trust me, I'll know if you're lying. So I want straight answers. Now, who is this creature they call the Sable Quean, and what is she doing here in Moss-flower?"
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Gripchun swallowed hard. "I've never seen 'er, sir, on me life I ain't. I'm just one of the Ravagers. Zwilt gives all the orders, an' we just carries 'em out."
Buckler nodded. "So this Sable Quean prob'ly gives Zwilt his orders, and he passes 'em on to you?"
The ferret's head nodded vigourously. "That's right, yer 'onner. There must be about tenscore of us Ravagers by now. Zwilt brought in a mob o' new beasts, river rats, they are."
Buckler exchanged glances with Skipper, who was sitting on a higher step, taking it all in. He put his next question to the prisoner.
"An' what exactly are your orders?"
Gripchun replied obediently, "To take any youngbeasts we comes across, liddle woodlanders. We catches 'em an' passes 'em over to Zwilt. I don't know where 'e takes 'em though, I swear!"
Buckler leaned closer, staring hard at the ferret. "Don't you have any idea where the young ones go to?"
For answer, Gripchun spat on his pawpad, then dabbed it on either eartip--a vermin habit to show that he was speaking truly. "If'n I knowed, I'd tell ye, sir."