Skipper dearly loved the Abbey, having lived on and off there through his young seasons, often leaving to live for a time with boisterous river otters and wild sea otters. But he always returned to Redwall, where he could trace his forebears right back to the famous otter Warrior, the one they had called Taggerung. Abbot Apodemus had tried to press onto Skipper the honour of being Redwall's Warrior, though he refused on the grounds that he had never felt himself to be the Chosen One. Skipper did, however, take on the role of Master at Arms to the Abbey, training others in weaponry and warskills, though there had never been the need for anything like that in living memory. Redwall's seasons of peace and plenty stretched back many, many seasons. But the big otter had chosen to stay in case he was ever needed.

Great Hall was an island of serenity when it was not being used for feasting. Rising sunlight cast soft strips of multicoloured light from the stained-gla.s.s windows onto the smoothworn stone floor. Skipper took his tray and settled down with his back against the base of a sandstone column. From there he could view the ancient tapestry depicting Martin the Warrior, the Abbey's first Champion. Foxes, rats, stoats, weasels and all manner of vermin could be seen fleeing from the armoured mouse who formed the centre of the picture. Martin had a face anybeast could trust: strong, smiling, kindly, yet with raw danger shining in his resolute eyes, which warned any evildoer to beware. He leaned upon a sword. Over the tapestry, on two silver spikes, the real one rested. Such a blade! It had a red pommel stone and a black bound handle with a cross-hilt. Like any warrior's weapon, it was proficient, plain and simple. But the blade, double-edged shining steel, had a point like an ice needle. Legend said that it had been forged by a Badger Lord in the fires of Salamandastron, from the metal of a fallen star. With such a sword in his grasp, a warrior could face any odds.

Eating in leisurely fashion, Skipper continued staring at Martin and the blade which rested above the skilfully woven tapestry. For some unknown reason, his eyelids began feeling heavy; and he had put aside the breakfast tray, when a sudden flash of sunlight shimmered on the swordblade. Skipper blinked at the spots of gold and silver dancing across his vision. Martin seemed to be staring at him from the tapestry. A voice, warm and distant, echoed around the room; the otter was not sure whether it was actually a real sound, or something inside his mind.

"Look to the summer, Watch for the maid, A young running slave Who will hold my blade."

Time stood still for Skipper. The sunspots diminished and mist swirled slowly before his eyes.

"h.e.l.lo there, big fellow. Not like you to be taking a nap this early in the day."

Skipper shook his head, coming back to reality at the sight of Abbot Apodemus standing over him.

"Er, wot? Er, er, g'mornin', Father Abbot...."

Apodemus looked around at Great Hall. "Wonderfully calm in here, isn't it? I'd join you, only 'tis too much effort sitting down there and having to heave oneself up again. Pity I'm not as fit as you, Skip."

The otter rubbed his eyes and stood up, respectfully allowing the Abbot to lean on his paw. He supported the old mouse as they walked toward the door, listening to what the good creature had to say.

"Cavern Hole's like a battleground at breakfast rime, far too noisy, between Dibbuns squeaking and scrambling about, and every otherbeast shouting about going on a treasure hunt. Oh dear, it was all too much for me. Let's take a stroll down to the gatehouse. Malbun and Crikulus are taking their breakfast quietly there, sensible creatures."

Skipper walked along in silence with the Abbot, trying hard to remember what it was he had wanted to tell him. But the otter's mind was a blank for the present.

Shining dust motes, like tiny slow-motion fireflies, swirled gracefully around the piled-up ma.s.s of parchments, scrolls and old volumes on the desk inside the gatehouse. Malbun Grimp and Crikulus the Gatekeeper both had quill pens behind their ears. The quaint pair munched on warm damson scones and sipped elder-bark tea as they sorted through the jumble. Crikulus moved a pile of scrolls from an armchair and allowed Skipper to plump the Abbot down in it, causing more dust to rise.

The ancient shrew peered over his rock crystal spectacles at them both. "A good mornin' to ye both. What brings ye here to this dusty dungeon on such a fine day, eh?"

Apodemus placed both paws in his wide habit sleeves. "This so-called treasure hunt. 1 want your opinion and advice as to such a fanciful venture."

Malbun, a normally placid mouse, became quite animated. She waved her paws about in excitement. "Oh, it's a must, we've just got to go, can't you see, treasure or no! Brockhall must be rediscovered. You've no idea how important it is to our Abbey archives!"

Malbun's outstretched paw hit a stack of heavy volumes, which toppled to the floor, causing a veritable eruption of dust. The Healer Recorder went into a fit of sneezing. a.s.sisting the Abbot from his armchair, Skipper shepherded all three creatures out into the sunlight. Malbun stifled her face in a blue spotted kerchief.

"Achoo! Achoo! Ah ... Ah ... Achoooooh! Whew, pardon me!"

They sat on the wallsteps together. Raising his eyebrows in resignation, the Abbot sighed. "Oh well, if it's that vital I suppose we'll have to organise the whole thing and do it properly. Skipper, would you like to be in charge of things?"

The otter waved his rudder respectfully. "My pleasure, Abbot."

Apodemus leaned back, closing his eyes at the bright sun.

"Thank you, my friend, I know I can rely on you. Mmm, it's nice and warm here. Summer'll soon be upon us."

Skipper began to remember what it was he had been going to say. Unfortunately his thoughts were interrupted by Memm Flackery, leading a pack of dancing Dibbuns toward them, each one of the little creatures singing uproariously, "Summer summer summer sun, Rumpetty dumpetty dumpetty dum, See birds a-chirpin' in the air An' bees a-buzzin' everywhere. With sun to shine an' warm my fur, Oh how could I have a care, a care, Oh how could I have a care?

Summer summer summer sun, That's the time for havin' fun, Gra.s.shoppers whirr an' hop around, Flowers come shootin' out the ground, b.u.t.terflies pa.s.s without a sound, As bright long days abound, abound, As bright long days abound!

Summer summer summer sun, Can't catch me 'cos off I'll run, I'll dash into the stawb'rry patch An' every one I see I'll s.n.a.t.c.h. Gobble it up, right down the hatch, A fine tummyache I'll catch, I'll catch, A fine tummyache I'll catch!"

Panting and blowing, Memm Flackery plumped down on the wallsteps, mopping her brow with an ap.r.o.n corner. "Whoo, I'm getrin' too blinkin' old for this lark, wot! Just lookit those little fiends, each one of 'em could scoff enough breakfast to sink a ship and then sing like a pack of wolves an' dance the bloomin' paws from under you!"

The Dibbuns swarmed over Abbot Apodemus, sitting on his lap, leaning on his shoulder and clambering on his back.

"Goo' mornin', Farver H'Abbot, lubberly day izzenit!"

Apodemus groaned under the weight of Abbeybabes, chuckling. "So, what do you villains want from your Abbot, eh?"

Turfee the mousebabe tugged on the Abbot's whiskers. "Us wanna go onna treasure 'unt with you, h'all of us!"

Skipper scooped tiny bodies off Apodemus.

"Ahoy there, mates, we can't take you all. There's far too many in yore crew, you'd be gettin' lost all over Moss-flower. Ruggum'n'Bikkle's the only two we need."

The Dibbuns, who could shed bitter tears at a moment's notice, set up a heartrending chorus of wails. "Waaaaaha-hawaaaaaaahwannagooooo!"

The Harenurse tweaked Skipper's rudder severely. "Y' great heartless beast, sah, fancy upsettin' my babes like that. S'pose I'll jolly well have to make the peace." She pulled a tiny mole out of the pack and wiped his eyes. "Listen up, young stumptail, I want y'to go and find Fore-mole. Tell him that Memm will be baking blackberry cream tarts today. Oh, an' ask him if he can find some jolly helpful creatures t'lend a paw to make 'em. Run along now, wot!"

As if by magic the wailing and weeping ceased. Dibbuns bounced up and down like mad frogs, waving their paws and shouting at the Harenurse. "Me! Me! I 'elp you, Memm! Me, me, I wanna 'elp!"

Memm shook her head, as if doubtful. "Tut tut, I never heard anybeast sayin' please."

One of the Dibbuns shouted "Please!"

Memm scratched her ears, turning to Skipper. "What d'you say, old lad, d'you think they look like good helpers for makin' blackberry cream tarts, wot?"

Skipper nodded vigorously, watching the hopeful infants. "Ho aye, marm, I don't think ye could 'ave a better crew in yore kitchens. They looks big'n'strong enough t'me."

There was no time for Memm to reply, as she was grabbed by her ap.r.o.n strings and tugged away to the kitchens by the Dibbuns, all of them yelling and shouting. "c.u.mmon, Memm, where our ap.r.o.ns?" "I the bes' berrycream tart baker inna world!" "Yurr, uz make lots'n'lots'n'lots, gurt 'eaps of em!" "Looka, me paws be clean, me don't 'ave to wash 'em!" Malbun was laughing as she nudged Skipper. "Heehee! You'd best go an' rescue Ruggum'n'Bikkle, they've trone off with the rest!"

The big otter dashed after the baking party. "Ahoy there, you two, get back 'ere. Yore needed by us treasure 'unters! Come back 'ere, I say!"

The Abbot rose stiffly, patting Malbun's paw. "Well, I see you're off to a good start. I wish you luck with your enterprise, old friend!"

1O.

By midmorning the searchers were leaving Redwall Abbey with Skipper and his two stalwart otter mates acting as guards. The party was composed mainly of grownup creatures, with Ruggum and Bikkle hemmed neatly in the middle of the shrews, still protesting at being excused from their tart-baking duties. Apodemus locked the main gates behind them and climbed up to the north ramparts. He stood watching his creatures trudge away up the path until they cut off at an angle into Mossflower Wood.

The going was fair, as they kept up a leisurely pace through the woodlands. Log a Log Groo and the Guosim shrews knew the exact location where they had found the two Dibbuns. This took a lot of guesswork out of the route.

Crikulus tramped alongside the shrew leader. "D'you happen to know that old Guosim song, 'Footlec.u.m Durr/ I think it was called? I heard one of your beasts singin' it when you visited the Abbey last winter. I like it."

Log a Log Groo kept his eyes on the path ahead. "Even if I did, I couldn't sing it, old 'un. I'm more of a dancer than a singer. Hoi, Burrl, you know that'n, don't ye, 'Footlec.u.m Durr'? Sing it out good'n'loud for us."

Burrl was a smallish, skinny-looking shrew, but he had a voice like a foghorn. He sang out loud and clear: "Young Footlec.u.m Durr, I do declare, Was a fanciful little shrew. With waxy grease he curled his fur An' wore a greatcoat o' blue. His ma was ever so fond of him, That lest his paws should bruise She made for him from aspen skin A brand-new pair of shoes.

Well, pickle my fur, I tell you, sir, Do you believe the news?

O what to do, a Guosim shrew, Clompin' about in shoes!

With laces green, the best you've seen, An' silver bells each end, He strutted here an' swaggered there, An' jigged about no end Til Footlec.u.m took off his shoes, An' paddlin' went one day.

Then a big old owl, the thievin' fowl, Swooped down an' stole 'em away.

So now in the night, if you wake in a fright At a strange sound in the air, Tis only that bird that you have heard In the shoes of Footlec.u.m Durr.

Too whit too woo, a ding dong clomp, He's dancin' round out there, Pursued by a shrew, cryin' out 'Hey you, They're the shoes of Footlec.u.m Durr!' "

Ruggum thought the song was hilarious and shook Burrl's paw. "Gurtly singed, zurr. f.o.o.klum Gurr, ee'm wurr a sillybeast!"

It was sometime before midnoon when Log a Log called a halt. "This is about where we found the riddle 'uns. Let's 'ave lunch an' see if'n they can tell us which ways they went from 'ere to find that big ole tree with the door in it."

Malbun and Crikulus doled out barley farls, soft white cheese and flasks of pale cider. Both were glad to be rid of the extra weight they had been carrying. Skipper split his farl and packed it with cheese. Before he took a bite, he called the two Dibbuns to his side and questioned them. "Well, me ole mates, d'ye know where the old oak is from 'ere?"

Bikkle gestured in a wide arc nonchalantly. "H'east nor-fwest, or souf I fink!"

Crikulus could not help wagging a stern paw at her. "East northwest and south, that's a great help. Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Ruggum, eh?"

The little mole clapped his paws together and chortled. "Hurr hurr, oi did loike ee song bowt f.o.o.klum Gurr, zurr!"

Malbun stroked the molebabe's velvet-soft head. "Crikulus means do you know the way to the oak tree where you and Bikkle sheltered from the storm?"

Ruggum answered candidly. "Oi carn't be sayin', marm, et wurr dark an' gurtly rainy ee see. 'Tain't gudd furr foin-den ee way abowt in darkly rainy weathers, burr no!"

Sister Vernal's murmur was audible. "They'd have been more useful in the kitchens baking tarts!"

Malbun was about to say something when she was knocked suddenly backwards by a big dark bird, which had zoomed down without warning. She clutched her chin and cried out, "Aargh, what was that?"

Another one followed like lightning, pecking the cheese from Gurdle Sprink's paw. He swiped at it and missed. The bird swooped away into the trees amid a chorus of harsh cawing.

Skipper roared to his two otters and the shrews, "Crows, a whole gang o' the villains! Protect those two babes, mates. I ain't got a sling! Anybeast carryin' sling an' stones with 'em?"

Log a Log drew his rapier, casting an eye at the treetops. The big, dark-feathered scavengers were ma.s.sing in the branches, watching the Redwallers menacingly. The Guosim leader kept his voice low and spoke calmly.

"My shrews never brought slings along, not that chuckin' stones'd do much good. There's too many of 'em. It looks like we're in real trouble, mates!"

Curdle rubbed at the deep scratches on his paw. "Those birds are after our vittles! "lis the food they want. What d'ye think, Skip?"

The otter nodded, forming a plan in his mind as he spoke. "Aye, 1 think yore right, mate. We can't stand an' fight, they've got us outnumbered. Best thing we can do is to get out of 'ere safe an' sound. Log a Log, you an' yore shrews will be up front when we go. Keep the two Dib-buns, old Crikulus an' Sister Vernal with ye. Malbun, Gur-dle, an' the rest, you stay close be'ind 'em. Me 'n' my two ottercrew'll cover yore backs."

Skipper sidled casually over to where the two foodpacks were lying. Sliding his javelin through the handles, he lifted them cautiously off the ground.

The crows began crying out with renewed harshness. Skipper warded off two of them with a swipe of his rudder. They perched boldly on a raised tree root nearby. Hopping along the high branches, the rest of the crows dropped down to lower boughs threateningly Skipper's keen eyes flicked from side to side, a.s.sessing the situation fully. He spoke gently to his friends.

"Lissen now, you start movin' out, slowly does it. But when you 'ears me shout Red wall, then go as fast as yore paws'll carry ye. Log a Log, get out o' the woods an' onto the path as quick as ye can. Now, get goin', easy-like."

As soon as the party tried to shuffle off quietly, the crows dropped even lower, cawing agitatedly Skipper distracted the birds' attention by grabbing the food packs and laughing loudly.

"Haharrhar, ye winged vermin, is this wot ye want? Fresh bread an' good soft cheese? I wager there's a few liddle cakes in these packs, too, let's take a look, eh!"

Loosening the straps on the two small knapsacks, he swung them in the opposite direction from the retreating Redwallers. There were cakes, some candied chestnuts, too; the whole lot, together with bread, cheese and cider flask, scattered wholesale, bouncing off treetrunks and spilling into the shrubbery. Squawking and pecking at one another, the scavenging crows fought among themselves as they pounced on the food. Skipper threw back his head and roared, "Redwaaaaaallllll!"

Stunning the birds in his path with thwacks from his javelin, he took off after the main party, who were now plunging headlong through the woodlands. Ruggum and Bikkle had not been scared since the crows' first appearance, surrounded by big, grown-up Redwallers. They felt perfectly safe. Bikkle was swept along, two shrews holding her paws. Lifting both footpaws from the ground, she was carried onward, giggling as she dangled in the air. It was good fun. Ruggum ran on his own for a while, then stumbled and fell. Before he could be alarmed at the main body pa.s.sing him by, he was swept up onto Skipper's powerful shoulders. Grabbing the otter's ears, the mole-babe hung on, gurgling, "Hurrhurrhurr, ee bee's a gurt game, can ee goo farster, zurr Skip?"

By the sound of the crows behind him, Skipper could tell they had decimated the foodpacks. Keeping his eyes on the path ahead, he a.s.sured the incorrigible molebabe, "Aye, mate, we'd best step the pace up. Those birds'll be comin' after us soon. Move on up there, mates, faster!"

Some of the older creatures were panting hard, so Skipper's two ottercrew mates and the Guosim shrews gallantly lent helping paws to speed them on to the safety of the path. Now the crows were on their trail, their raucous cawing echoing louder as they approached. Curdle Sprink slowed his pace, allowing Skipper to catch up with him.

The Cellarhog glanced over his shoulder, puffing and panting. "Can't go on much further, Skip. You go on, I'll stay 'ere an' make a stand for us. Should 'old em off awhile."

Skipper shoved an end of his javelin into the hedgehog's paws. "No such thing, mate. Who'd be left t'brew good ale an' cordials for the Abbey? See, there's the path up yonder. Grab ahold of this javelin with me, we'll run together!"

Ruggum reached over and patted Gurdle's spiked head. "Yurr, coom on, zurr, us'n's won't leaven ee behoind!"

Log a Log was first onto the path. He shouted to his shrews as they hurried out of the woodlands, "Grab some stones, Guosim, we'll show those scurvy sc.u.m!"

More Redwallers poured out onto the open path, as they took the shrew's advice and gathered pawfuls of rough stones. A big crow was flying up behind Skipper, homing in on the back of Ruggum's neck, when a stone struck it square on the beak. Other crows found themselves pelted with a lively salvo of large pebbles and chunks of rock.

Skipper was last, but finally he made it to the path. Lifting Ruggum down, he picked up stones and began whizzing them off at the angry crows with amazing accuracy, chuckling wolfishly. "Haharr, buckoes, come an' chew on some o' this!"

But the crows would not leave the tree cover, knowing they would be at a disadvantage on open ground. They took to the branches, hopping awkwardly about and cawing harsh disapproval of their would-be quarry's tactics.

Old Crikulus was a surprisingly good rock thrower. He knocked a crow clean out of its tree with his first try. "You great filthy cowards, how d'ye like some of your own medicine, eh, eh? Here, try this'n for size!"

The unexpected retaliation was too much for the crows, and they quickly retreated back into the safety of the woods. Skipper hooked his rudder under Ruggum's smock cord, hauling him back as the molebabe went to chase after the crows with a rock he could scarcely carry.

"Cease fire, me ole mate, we've sent 'em packin'."

Ruggum rolled his rock off among the trees and dusted his paws. He shouted after the distantly cawing birds.

"Yurr, an' doant ee c.u.m back or oi'll give ee billyoh, you'm gurt villyun rarscals!"

The remainder of the journey was uneventful. Skipper and his party reached the Abbey in time for afternoon tea. Abbot Apodemus opened the gates for them.

"Great seasons, you lot look as if you've been through some sort of adventure. What happened, my friends, tell me?"

Skipper made his report as they strolled across the lawns to the Abbey.

The Father Abbot reflected on the story. "No treasures found todaybut some lessons learnt. Ah well, no great harm done. You're all back safe and sound, just in time for afternoon tea, I might add."

Sister Vernal smiled eagerly, for teatime was her special favourite. "Oh good, blackberry cream tarts!"

Apodemus shook his head woefully as they entered the Abbey. "Please, sister, don't even mention blackberry cream tarts to me. They'll haunt my dreams for seasons to come."

Malbun stifled a smile. "What happened? Did something go wrong with the Dibbuns' tart baking?"