Doomwyte

Nokko’s pretty wife, Filgo, called out in protest, “All us Gonfelins are thieves, just as Prince Gonff was. But we ain’t sly villains, my Nokko would never steal from friends, or commit evil acts. It ain’t fair, that’s wot it ain’t!”

Bosie interrupted her tirade. “Ah’ll have tae ask ye tae be silent, marm, there’ll be no interferin’ wi’ this investigation, ye ken. So hauld yer wheesht an’ be a guidbeast, or Ah’ll have tae banish ye tae the orchard.”

Nokko smiled fondly at his pretty wife. “He’s right, me ole darlin’. Leave it to our Redwall mates, they’ll git t’the bottom o’ this.”

Angry words erupted across Great Hall, from the stairs. It was Tugga Bruster, who was being hauled to the scene by Skipper. The Log a Log was blustering and struggling in the Otter Chieftain’s firm grip.

“Git yer paws off’n me, riverdog, yew can’t make me go anyplace where I don’t wanna go!”

Skipper kept tight hold of the dark green habit that the shrew was wearing. “You come along quiet now, mate, there’s nothin’ t’fear from a few questions if yore innocent.”

The Guosim Log a Log clapped a paw to his bandaged head, slumping back as though he was fainting. “Leggo, can’t yer see I’m injured?” He caught Skipper unawares, sliding free of the flowing habit and kicking him hard in the stomach.

The otter responded with surprising speed. Falling backward on the stairs, he lashed out with his hefty rudder. Tugga Bruster received a thwack on the back of his neck which sent him tumbling down the remaining steps. He hit the floor facedown. There was a noise, like a pebble dropping, as the round, green emerald popped from his belt purse. In the silence which followed, it rolled slowly over the stones, coming to rest in front of the Abbot.

Tugga Bruster sprang upright, avoiding Skipper’s paws. He stared desperately about, yelling, “It’s a trick, that riverdog planted it on me!”

Bosie confronted him contemptuously. “Ach, ye canna’ dress a worm up as a warrior. Yer a miserable robber wi’ no a scrap of honour tae yore name!”

The culprit ducked around Bosie, grabbing the short rapier from the belt of a nearby shrew. He called to his tribe, “Rally t’me, Guosim! We’ll teach these stupid Redwallers a lesson afore we leaves this place. Logalogalogalooog.”

The battlecry went unheeded. Not a shrew moved. Turning cold faces from their shamed leader, they stared at the floor in stony silence.

Lacking his iron club, Tugga Bruster slashed the air with the rapier blade, shaking with rage. “Wot’s the matter, have ye got soil in yer ears? Charge ’em, that’s an order from me. I’m Tugga Bruster, Log a Log of all the Northern Guosim!”

One of the older shrews, Garul, shook his head. “Not anymore you ain’t, run whilst ye still have the chance, Bruster. Guosim don’t know ye anymore!”

Hatred flashed from the deposed Chieftain’s eyes. He flung the rapier, catching Garul in the shoulder, then he sped from Great Hall. Roaring in anger, the Guosim tribe chased after him.

Skipper curled his lip scornfully. “Let the coward go, an’ good riddance to him.”

Garul looked up from the floor, where Brother Torilis was tending his gashed shoulder. “Stay out of it, sir, Guosim deals out their own justice!”

Abbot Glisam bowed his head at Nokko. “Please accept our apologies, my friend, we were wrong ever to suspect you.”

The Gonfelin Pikehead laughed the whole thing off. “’Twasn’t yew t’blame, Abbo. Anybeast who took on a tribe of thieves as guests would be crazy not to suspect ’em if’n anythin’ went missin’. The main thing is that ye got yore nice, green jool back agin, ain’t that right, Filgo me beauty?”

The Gonfelin wife agreed. “Aye, that’s right enough, Father Abbo, wot belongs to Redwall should come back to Redwall. I think ye might get a nice surprise shortly. Who knows, another pretty stone could turn up, I’m thinkin’. Right, Nokko?”

Her husband began waffling. “Er…er…I don’t know wot yer talkin’ about, me liddle honeyplum.”

Further discussion was cut short by the return of the Guosim. Nokko changed the subject hastily, by asking them, “Well, did ye get ole Bruster?”

Tenka, a young shrew, shook his head. “No.”

Garul looked perplexed. “Y’mean he escaped?”

Tenka explained, “Oh, he never got away. Bruster ran like wolves was chasin’ him, we couldn’t catch up. He threw those front gates open, an’ dashed out o’ the Abbey, onto the path. Hah, that was when she popped up….”

Bosie was overcome by curiosity. “Who’s she?”

Tenka continued, “That Painted One, you remember, the beast whose mate he slew. Tala, I think ’er name was. As Bruster was crossin’ the path, she jumps right out o’ the ditch, all scraggy an’ mad lookin’, armed with a big, pointed tree branch. Afore he could wink an eye, she stabbed ’im, right through the ’eart. Then she dashes off cacklin’ an’ laughin’, shoutin’, ‘I swore I’d get ye! When ye gets to Hellgates tell ’em Tala the Painted One sent yer!’”