High Rhulain

He bowed elegantly but could not resist one last hopskip as he bounded to the Recorder Librarian’s side. “Hoho, this is the stuff! Come on, Quelt sir, and you, too, Sister. Where’s the next puzzle, eh? Just show it to us and we’ll crack it like Friar Bibble cracking a hazelnut with a bung mallet. Won’t we, mates?”

There was ready agreement from the rest until Sister Snowdrop put a damper on their enthusiasm. “I’m afraid we haven’t found anything else yet. You’ll just have to wait.”

Girry’s tail stood up like a flagpole. “You don’t mean to tell us that’s all, do you?”

Old Quelt closed the book, patting its cover. “Not at all, young sir. There’s probably lots more about Miss Tiria’s dream and the journey she’ll be making.”

Tiria could not conceal her disappointment. “Well, why can’t you find it for us now?”

Removing his glasses and dabbing at his eyes with a kerchief, the ancient squirrel explained. “I’m certain there has to be more, because Sister Geminya has given us a keystone clue, the High Queen Rhulain. I can follow her reasoning, though she could be an exceedingly aggravating creature. But when she has a tale to relate, or a mystery to set out, this is the roundabout way she has of writing it down. Sister Snowdrop and I must study the Tome carefully. Just one oversight, and we lose it all. It is not the work of a moment, you must understand. Our research will be long and arduous, but we’ll get there. Now, my friends, I am very old and very tired. It will have to wait until tomorrow morning. I bid you good night!”

Sister Snowdrop arose, rubbing her back as she joined him. “Please don’t judge us harshly, friends. Sleep can be a bother and a waste of time to the young, but as the seasons pile heavily upon one it becomes a blessing and a comfort. I, too, will see you all in the morning. Good night!”

The pair shuffled off, carrying the big book between them.

After the door of Cavern Hole had closed behind them, Abbess Lycian threw up her paws in frustration. “Oh bother! Just when we were getting somewhere. I’m not a bit tired yet. Oh well, what must be must be. Is there any tea left in the pot, Burbee?”

“Burr, nary ee drop!” Burbee said, as she held the teapot spout down to demonstrate. “Oi bain’t one fur fancy likkle teapotters, oi’ll go an’ make summ in our own gurt big ’un.”

Lycian picked up their large earthenware mugs. “Good idea. I’ll get our folding chairs and meet you up on the walltop. There’s a full moon out, and it’s a pleasant summer night. I like it up there, don’t you?”

The molemum was feeling tired herself, but she agreed. “Yuss, marm, oi’ll see ee up thurr!”

12

It was a beautiful night outside, still warm from the long, hot summer day. Like a ball of newly churned butter surrounded by stars, the moon reigned over a dark, cloudless sky. Groffgut and his gang lay in the ditch opposite the Abbey’s west wall. They had been passing the time there since midnoon, napping and eating food they had gathered along the way. The water rats had been content during daylight hours, but they were distinctly uneasy now that night had spread its canopy over all. They were awed at the sight of Redwall and none too anxious to pay it a visit or meet its inhabitants. However, it was fairly obvious that their leader was planning something by the way he sat apart from them in the dry ditchbed, focussing his attention on the monumental building which loomed over them.

Pointing his rusty makeshift sword at the west walltop, Groffgut tried to whip up the gang’s enthusiasm. “Willyer lookit dat place, mates? Just sittin’ there, all fulla good stuff fer us!”

Threetooth provided the only response, which was not overly encouraging. “Dey got a h’eagle in dere, an’ anudder big burd, too. I saw dem!”

Groffgut contradicted him, lying blatantly. “O no, yer never! Didden’t I show youse de h’eagle flyin’ away, jus’ afore it went dark?”

Threetooth knew what he had seen, and he said so. “Dat burd was too ’igh up inna sky. ’Twasn’t no h’eagle, neither, it was a seagill.”

Groffgut threw himself on Threetooth and gnawed on his ear. “Are yew callin’ me a liar, eh? I said it was a h’eagle!”

Threetooth was sorry he had spoken. “Owowow! Awright awright, it was a h’eagle. Wowoow! Stop eatin’ me lug’ole, Chief, it was a h’eagle!”

Groffgut kicked him to one side. He curled his lip in scorn at the other vermin. “Yer know the trouble wid youse? Ye’ve all gone soft on me! Yer frykinned of yer own shadders. Right, y’see dis sword?”

He brandished the rusty scythe blade under their noses. “Well, I’ll be usin’ it ter slay anyrat wot’s not wid me. ’Cos if’n yer not wid me, yer agin me, see! Now, up wid yer paws all dose who’s wid the chief o’ dis gang!”

Knowing Groffgut’s dangerous temper, the gang had no option but to raise their paws. Groffgut made a point of counting and naming them to reassure himself.

“Dat’s Frogeye, Plugtail, Rashback, Obbler an’ Fleddy. Oi, Threetooth, is yore paw up or down?”