"I've found it! Writing carved into the stone, but I can't read or write words down. What should I do?"
Mhera and Brother Hoben came up with a simple scheme right away, and shortly thereafter Fwirl scampered back down and found the sandstone block with the carving on it. She spread a clean white table napkin, its four corners smeared with honey, over the writing. Then, taking a stub of beeswax candle, the squirrelmaid colored in the white linen all over and made a perfect rubbing of the characters beneath the cloth. A cheer went up from the onlookers as she pulled it from the wall and waved it like a banner, crying shrilly, "I did it! I've got it!"
Cregga's room became jammed to the door again. Everybeast listened in breathless silence as Brother Hoben read out the message carved into the wall of the Abbey long seasons ago.
" Twas I slew the Scourge in days of old,
Then I was one, but now we are two.
We who are dumb, yet sound so bold,
Day and night to order you.
We are those who announce a feast,
Or victories of the brave-hearted.
We are those whose solemn farewell,
Mark sadly a loved one departed.
On our oak see knowledge unfold,
We never speak 'til we're told?
We never speak 'til we're told?"
In the brief silence that followed, Fwirl shook her head. "What a puzzle. Great seasons, what's it supposed to mean?"
Her comment was greeted by roars of laughter. Broggle bristled. "Don't laugh at her, it's not fair!"
Mhera pounded the small tabletop until she restored silence. "Broggle's right, you shouldn't laugh at Fwirl. She's only just come to our Abbey. How is she supposed to know about Redwall?"
Everybeast began explaining at once, until Cregga roared, "Silence, please! Floburt, would you like to explain it all to Fwirl? I don't want to hear a murmur from anybeast except Floburt, thank you!"
The hogmaid recited what every Redwaller had learned at Abbey school.
"The poem means our two Abbey bells. They're called Matthias and Methuselah. A long time ago Redwall had only one great bell, called the Joseph Bell, after its maker. Our Abbey was captured by an evil rat, Cluny the Scourge, but a mouse named Matthias fought him. Matthias took the great sword of Martin the Warrior and cut the ropes holding the Joseph Bell. It fell on Cluny and killed him, but the bell was split by its fall. Later, the metal was melted down and recast into two smaller bells, Matthias and Methuselah, the pair we have in our bell tower today. If you know this the answer becomes clear. Bells cannot speak, yet they make sounds, ringing out at midnight, midday and eventide. They ring for feasts, triumphs and also for a death. The line that's repeated at the poem's end is a clever play on words. We never speak 'til we're told. Think about it. A bell will make no sound until you toll it, so they never speak 'til they're tolled!
Old Hoarg the Gatekeeper sat down on the bed. "Hah! I didn't see that 'un 'til you explained it, Floburt. Very clever indeed. But wot about the line speakin' of knowledge unfoldin' on our oak? Where do we find our oak?"
Mhera whispered something to her mother. Filorn nodded understandingly, then she made an announcement. "You'll learn the answer right after the entertainment contest!"
Everybeast appeared bemused at this.
"What entertainment contest?"
"Hurr, furst oi yurr'd abowt et."
" 'Tis a new one on me too."
"I didn't know about any entertainment contest, did you?"
Mhera restored order. "It's to be held by the gatehouse very shortly. Give your names to Gatekeeper Hoarg if you wish to enter. Any kind of entertainment will be considered. My mum will present the winner with a large woodland fruit trifle, topped with meadowcream. Line up outside the gatehouse if you'd like to put your name down!"
Seconds later, Broggle gazed around the deserted bedchamber. "Well, Mhera, that certainly cleared the place. They went out of here like ants chasing honey. Still, who wouldn't for one of your mum's woodland trifles with meadowcream? Whose idea was that?"
Mhera giggled like a Dibbun. "It was mine. The entertainment contest, too. We don't need that lot following us around all day. Come on, let's go and take a look in the bell tower. That appears to be the place where this riddle is centered."
Cregga shook her great striped head as she rose from her chair. "You're a crafty otter, Mhera. That was cleverly done. Now, I'm too old for climbing bell tower stairs, there's too many of 'em for my liking. But you could drop me off by the gatehouse. I want to hear about this entertainment contest. Who knows, I might put my name down. I'd dearly love one of your mum's trifles all to myself."
The search party assisted the Badgermum down the stairs, joking.
"What'll you do, Cregga? Sing the song of the ancient badger?"
"Ee cudd resoite summ gurt dramatuck vursus, marm!"
"Haha, or play tunes on Boorab's haredee gurdee!"
Cregga sat on the bottom stair to catch her breath. "Insolent wretches! I'll have you know I was very skilled at entertaining in my younger seasons. Maybe I'll perform a quick acrobatic dance, that should do the trick!"
Mhera and Fwirl were laughing so hard that they could not help Cregga upright again.
Inside the bell tower it was dim and cool, but the spiral stairs seemed to go on forever. Halfway up, Brother Hoben had to sit down and rest awhile. "Phew! Lackaday, now I know why Cregga didn't want to come!"
Fwirl's voice came from high above them. "Put a move on down there, I'm already up here!"
Gundil wiped a paw across his brow, trudging doggedly on. "Hurr, easy furr ee t'say, moi booty, but this choild bain't nuthin' but ee pore molebeast, not fitted furr cloimbin' oop sturrs wot goes 'round an' 'round!"
Together they stood up near the small conical roof, astride a massive wooden beam with stout ropes bound around it. Below them was a dizzying drop, with two tolling ropes hanging the length of it. Mhera pointed out the two bells suspended from the beam below their footpaws.
"The one on your left is the Matthias bell, this one on the right is the Methuselah bell. See their names embossed around the edges? A pretty awesome sight, isn't it?"
Gundil's nosetip had gone dry. He turned his eyes aside, moaning, "Bwhurr, oi bain't no burd, an' oi bain't feelen too gudd noither!"
Mhera and Fwirl assisted him off the beam and sat him lower down on the steps. The mole turned his face to the wall. "Oi woan't be 'arpy 'til oi'm saferly on ee gudd furm grownd."
Broggle inspected the beam on all fours. "This is definitely made from a great oak. Look at this huge scar cut across it. Wonder how that happened?"
Brother Hoben, being the Recorder, instinctively knew. "That's where Matthias severed the bell rope with Martin's sword. Such a forceful blow he struck that he scored the beam deeply."
Broggle picked at it with his small kitchen knife. "Must have hit the hem of his habit, too. Look, there's a piece of cloth wedged in the cut."
Mhera saw what was going on as she returned to the beam with Fwirl. "Don't damage it in any way, Broggle. Try as carefully as you can to get the cloth out all in one piece!"
Broggle shaved the wood delicately away, either side of the cloth. "That's easy. See, it just lifts out!"
"He's a real artist with that little blade," Mhera whispered to Fwirl, loud enough for Broggle to hear. "There's nobeast in Redwall more skilled with a kitchen knife than our Broggle."
Blushing with modest pride, the assistant cook gave the cloth to Mhera. It was only a small square of light green material, simple and homespun, nothing elaborate or special. Mhera sniffed it before laying it flat on the beam.
"Hmm. Still got a faint scent of lilac on it. I wonder who it belonged to? Ah, there's letters inked onto it. Let's see . .. HITTAGALL? What's that supposed to mean? The letters aren't even written straight across horizontally, like ordinary writing. They're written vertically. HITTAGALL all in capitals from top to bottom. Brother Hoben, what d'you make of it?"