Whooooaaarrr! Coom on! Quick loike!
Bikkle dug her footpaws in, reluctant to be out in the weather. However, the look of shock and dumb terror on Ruggum’s face and the fearful glance he shot over his shoulder at the dark hole behind them soon decided her. Wordlessly she ran headlong beside him, out into the darkness of the storm-torn woodlands.
Brambles snagged their smocks, sodden shrubbery made them stumble, rain beat in their faces. Both Dibbuns fled as though a pack of foxes were after them.
Over here, I see ‘em, there they go!
The strange gruff-sounding voice sent them scurrying even faster, hearts pounding fearfully, sobbing for breath. Suddenly they were seized in a grip of iron. Their tiny footpaws left the ground as they were whirled high into the air.
Haharr, gotcher, me liddle beauties!
6
Skipper of otters held the two limp figures close to him. Log a Log Groo took a swift look at them, shaking his head reprovingly at the otter Chieftain.
Wot were ye thinkin’ of, y’great riverdog? You gone an’ scared the liddle’uns right out their senses. Pouncin’ on’em like that, shame on ye!
Skipper’s face was such a picture of dismay that Log a Log was forced to smile. He clapped his friend’s back. No real harm done, Skip. They’re safe enough now. Let’s get’em back to Redwall. Memm Flackery an’ ole Malbun’ll soon’ave the rascals as right as rain!
Skipper covered the unconscious pair with his cloak. Ain’t nothin’ right about rain, matey. Don’t tell Memm or Malbun this, or they’ll’ave me rudder for rugstrings!
Gurdle Sprink and old Crikulus were keeping watch on the northeast wall battlements. Peering out into the rainswept night, they held their lanterns high.
The Cellarhog was first to hear Skipper’s powerful shout. Ahoy the Abbey, anybeast’ome? We’re comin’ in!
Crikulus swung his lantern to and fro as Gurdle yelled, Come in by the northeast wicker gate, Skip me ole mate!
Hurrying down the wallstairs, the Gatekeeper and the Cellarhog withdrew the bolts on a small gate in the centre of the rampart wall. He held up his lantern.
Over’ere, Skip! Hah, I see you got some Guosim with ye. Welcome, friends, get in’ere outta the weather. Well well, ye found the Dibbuns. Good trackin’, pals!
Blankets were laid near the hearth in front of the fire at Cavern Hole.
Abbot Apodemus watched anxiously as Malbun Grimp tended to the little ones’ bruises and scratches. Skipper warmed his paws by the blaze.
Groo spotted’em east an’ a touch north in the woodlands. I’m surprised two babes could’ve gotten that far alone.
Memm Flackery held a small camphor vial under the Dibbuns’ noses.
Screwing their faces, they coughed and whined as they began to come around. The Harenurse spoke without looking up. Huh, I’m never surprised at anythin’ flippin’ Dibbuns can get up to, wot. Especially these two fiends, wot wot? f say, Groo old lad, what’s that thing you’ve got there?
Log a Log Groo passed the shining object over to the Abbot. It fell from the molebabe’s paw when Skipper grabb ... er, picked’im up.’Tis’eavy enough, I tell ye.
Apodemus inspected the object, holding it near to the firelight. It was bright yellow metal, a thick oblong band, smooth to the touch. On either curve of the oblong a jet black stone twinkled. Sculpted at the centre of the band was a curious inset design.
The good Father Abbot passed the stone on to Crikulus. I can’t make head nor tail of it. You take a look, old one.
Nodding his head, the ancient shrew Gatekeeper spoke. Hmm,’tis a pawring, meant to fit over the broadest partof somebeast’s paw. Very nicely crafted too, from the finest gold. You see these two black stones? They are true jet, rare precious gems. But as for the markings on it, I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea what they mean.
Ruggum and Bikkle were sufficiently recovered to sit up. They looked at their elders sheepishly. Hurr, zurrs, we’m gotten losted.
Bikkle nodded vigorous agreement, then decided to blame Memm and Skipper.
She pointed an accusing paw at them. Youse locked d’gate on us, we was shutted out. Us knock an’ knock, but nobeast’ear us. So we go for a walk inna woodses.
The Harenurse muttered under her breath. Locked’em out? Fibbin’ little wretches, wot wot!
Foremole Urrm, the traditional leader of all Redwall moles, came trundling in. Urrm had brought supper for the runaways. Yurr, oi saved ee summ workleberry pud-den an’ a beaker of strawbee corjul apiece.
Tho’ you’m b’aint deservin’ of et. You’m a roight pair o’ scallywag-gers, hurr aye!
The Dibbuns hugged Foremole Urrm, then set about eating like ravenous beasts.
Apodemus whispered to the Foremole. Baby Bikkle is a dreadful liar, we won’t get the truth out of her. See if you can coax Ruggum to tell you what happened.
Urrm wrinkled his jolly face as he winked both eyes at the Abbot. You’m leave et to oi, zurr. Oi’ll foind out ee trooth!
Dibbuns liked and trusted the Foremole, and Urrm soon had the molebabe telling all. Licking pudding from his wooden spoon, Ruggum related his story:
Yurr now, let oi think. Ho yuss, we’m was losted in ee furrest, summwhurrs east norf south. Et wurr a comen on to rain, us’n’s run round an’ round looken furr shelter. Ee skoi went all darkened an’ wind blowed an’ rain failed. Et wurr tumble, zurr, jus’ tumble! H’all of ee sudding we foinded a gurt h’oak tree, burr ay, wi’ a likkle door in et. So uzz opinged ee dor an’ getted in owt ee rainwet.
As if not wanting to explain further, the molebabe went silent and began licking his pudding bowl out. Foremole Urrm took the bowl from him and shoved the pawring under Ruggum’s nose.
Tell ee zurr H’Abbot’ow ee gotted this yurr h’object.
Ruggum babbled out a veritable deluge of words. Oi failed down ee gurt’ole wi’ stairs on et an’ grabbed ee h’objeck. Thurr wurr ee gurt monister surrpint an’ ee snowy whoite giant, oi runned away vurry farst afore they eated oi! Ruggum threw himself facedown on the blanket, wrapping it round his head, an indication that he would speak no more to anybeast.
Foremole Urrm took Bikkle upon his lap. Yurr, ee’m a silly ole feller, bain’t ee. You’m a gudd choild, tell oi abowt ee likkle door in ee h’oak tree.
Bikkle dipped her paw in the strawberrry cordial and did a scrawl upon the floor near the hearth. Me fink dat was writted onna door.
The squirrelbabe’s markings were hard to decipher. B o k a I. The gaps in between the letters were filled in with Bikkle’s fanciful swirls.
Urrm studied it, scratching his chin.
Lukks loike ee wurm wriggle to oi.
Malbun, however, grew quite excited. She turned to Crikulus. Can you see what it looks like?
The ancient shrew peered at it and shrugged. I’m afraid not. Should I know?
Without replying, Malbun took a charred twig from the hearth and wrote underneath Bikkle’s attempt the word Brockhall. She compared the word to the letters the Dibbun had made.
See, there’s the B, an o, a k, an a and one of the I’s. It’s Brockhall, sure as the fur on your face, they’ve found Brockhall!
Memm Flackery busied herself wrapping both Dibbuns in their blankets, ready to be carried up to the dormitories. What’n the name of my aunt’s pinafore is Brockhall, wot?