Doomwyte

Corksnout shuffled his huge footpaws. “Sorry, I got excited. Go on, you can have the next one.”

Dwink looked baffled. “Wot next one?”

Samolus whispered in his ear, “I’d guess it’d be ‘red meals.’”

Dwink murmured out of the side of his mouth, “Why d’you guess that?”

Bisky had been eavesdropping; he grinned from ear to ear. “Ha ha, I know wot ’tis without puttin’ the letters in any circles. It’s emeralds!”

The Abbot’s expression was one of complete surprise. “Great seasons, how did you guess that so quickly?”

The young mouse winked broadly. “It just suddenly came to me, Father. Rubies was the first one. We’re looking for red stones and green stones, two of each. So I thought, rubies are red, what jewels are green? I looked at the words red meals, and it sprang out at me. Emeralds!”

Corksnout rubbed his big paws together in a businesslike manner. “C’mon, c’mon, wot’s next, mates?”

Samolus read the next line out. “‘Two bruise and two mere lads, where are the nests O?’ Give me that charcoal and I’ll write it down. I think ‘two bruise’ first, eh, Father?”

Abbot Glisam looked secretly pleased. “Don’t write ‘two bruise,’ just ‘bruise’ on its own. In fact I’ve got it, no need to write it down—”

Dwink sprang up. “Bruise, buries, same letters. It’s rubies again.”

Bisky chuckled. “So it is. Two rubies and two mere lads. Hah, mere lads. Sounds like an anagram of red meals. Emeralds! Two rubies and two emeralds. What’s the rest? ‘Where are the nests O?’”

Corksnout puffed out his chest, declaring, “That ole Prince Gonff wasn’t so smart, tryin’ to baffle brains like ours. Huh, rubies an’ emeralds are jewels, they’re precious. ‘Nests O!’ My grannie’s spikes, that’s stones, precious stones!”

Gullub Gurrpaw left off reading the mole scrolls and took his friend severely to task. “Oi wishes ee’d stop a-showtin’ owt ee arnswers an’ give they’m young uns a charnce, zurr. They’m’ll lurn nawthen iffen ee doan’t give ’em no h’oppertunery!”

Corksnout was mortified. He sniffed so hard that he unseated his false nose, almost swallowing it. Stalking off down the cellar floor, he called huffily, “I was only tryin’ to help, but I’ll get on with me own work, there’s plenty for me to do, thankee!”

Umfry pointed an accusing paw at Gullub. “You’ve h’upset ’im now, Mister Gurrpaw!”

The mole gave a gruff bass chuckle. “Eem doan’t loike wurkin’ alone wi’ cumpany abowt. Ole Corky’ll coom back anon, mark moi wurd, zurr!”

Dwink wriggled excitedly. “Just one more line to solve!”

Abbot Glisam read the final segment out. “‘A pincer those five hid them well.’”

Umfry began to complicate the issue. “Five ’idden well! Wot five, h’I thought we was h’only searchin’ for four stones. H’another thing, wot’s h’a pincer doin’ h’in this riddle?”

Corksnout must have been listening. He called out from the corner where he was working, “I’ve got a fine pair of pincers, for grippin’ hot iron hoops when I ’ammers ’em into shape!”

Gullub smiled as he shouted back to his friend. “They’m pincers bees called tongs, zurr!”

The big Cellarhog strolled back to join them. He was wielding a pair of tongs. “Well, I’ve allus called ’em pincers, just like my dad did.”

To avoid further argument, the Abbot agreed. “I knew your dad, so if he said they were pincers, that’s good enough for me. Pincers they are!”

Corksnout donned his tiny glasses again, peering at the line on the page. “A pincer those five hid them well? That says pincer, not pincers. Wot are ye babblin’ about pincers for?”

5

Without any warning there was a panicked squeak from outside the cellars. The young squirrelmaid Perrit came tumbling in, flinging her apron over her face, a sure sign of distress in little maids. She shrilled at them, “Eeeek! Father Abbot, Mister Sam’lus, come quickly!” She started running willy-nilly, but Corksnout swept her up in his strong paws.

“Now now, missie, wot’s all the fuss about?”

Perrit peeked over her apron hem, she began babbling like a brook. “Oh, sirs, Skipper Rorgus says for you to come to the big gate right away ’cos carrying birds tried to steal likkle Dugry!

The entire party went thundering up the cellar steps and across Great Hall. Samolus panted to Bisky as they ran together for the main Abbey door, “Carrying birds? I think the young un must’ve meant carrion birds. The robbin’ scum!”

Slamming the doors open wide, they rushed out onto the rainswept lawns. Across at the outer threshold gate there were several creatures grouped about something. Running just behind Bisky and Samolus, Umfry Spikkle hooted out in alarm. “Hoi! Who opened the main gates, get ’em shut!”

Molebabe Dugry was being comforted by Sister Violet, who had the little fellow wrapped in a shawl, rocking him to and fro. “There there now, my dearie, the big, nasty bird has gone. Shame on him, tryin’ to steal you away like that!”

Dugry seemed none the worse for his ordeal. He jabbed the air with a tiny paw, yelling gruffly, “Eem gurt naughty burd carried Oi roight h’up inna sky. Roight, roight ’igh h’up Oi go’d!”