Doomwyte

“I think it would be wise for us all to spend the remainder of the night down here. Bisky, Dwink, would you please see that there are plenty of blankets and pillows brought in. Sister Violet, keep a good fire burning in the hearth, please. Samolus, I’d like all doors and window shutters secured, and bolted where possible. Skipper, take Corksnout, Gullub Foremole and some molecrew with you. Our Abbey must be searched thoroughly, make sure there are no more strangebeasts within the grounds, or this building. Only Friar Skurpul and anybeast on breakfast duty is authorised to leave Cavern Hole. Settle down now and try to get some sleep. Thank you!”

The Redwallers began occupying every ledge, nook or comfortable place they could find. Before he departed with the search party, Corksnout had a word to say.

“Er ’as anybeast seen that grand’og o’ mine, Umfry?”

Dwink staggered in, carrying a load of cushions. “Umfry? Hah, he’s curled up in the dorm, fast asleep an’ still lickin’ rose’ip syrup off his paw, sir.”

The big Cellarhog nodded grimly. “Righto, young un, when he wakes, tell ’im t’wait in the cellars. I wants a word or two with an idle Gate’ouse Keeper who leaves the main gates swingin’ open at night!”

Far from settling down to rest, a festive atmosphere pervaded Cavern Hole. Abbot Glisam retired to a corner, not wanting to spoil the happy mood. He reasoned that it would help to dispel any fears of strange lights haunting the Abbey. Sister Violet started up the singing, whilst the incorrigible D.A.B. showed off their jigging prowess. The song took the form of a repeating line, which required a clever singer. Sister Violet held her own. She had a pleasant voice, though she was pleased when others joined in. None of the older Redwallers attempted the dancing; this was the speciality of the Abbeybabes. Dibbuns can be very athletic, and quite competitive. It was not a jig for the fainthearted. Jumps, turns, somersaults, backflips and special pawshuffles were executed energetically. Two old moles on flute and side drum accompanied Sister Violet and the singers.

“Well there was an ole hogwife who dwelt in the wood.

The wood the wood, oh summer be good!

And this is the song she’d sing.

I eats plum pudden an’ gooseberry pie.

Oh pudden an’ pie some more says I!

I’m as happy as bees in blossom trees.

Those bees in trees do as they please!

Whilst the birds fly up in the sky.

The wood the wood, oh summer be good!

Oh pudden an’ pie some more says I!

Those bees in trees do as they please!

’Tis better to laugh than to cry!”

Outside, the searchers braved the rain-drenched night, after securing the main outer gates. Bosie went through the gatehouse for a second time, accompanied by Corksnout. The mountain hare looked around admiringly. “’Tis a braw wee hoose, but there’s naebeast here, eh, Corkie?”

The huge hedgehog ducked as he went through the doorway. “Right y’are, Bosie, let’s search the orchard. Leave the pond area to Skipper’n’Gullub.”

The gluttonous hare stepped out with a will. “Lots o’ guid fruits in yon orchard, eh?”

Corksnout blew rainwater from his replacement snout, which landed over his left eye. “Never mind the good fruit, mate, you just look for the bad foebeasts!”

Bosie grinned. “That’s a grand trick ye do wi’ yore auld nose, could ye teach me how tae do it?”

Corksnout searched in his broad apron pocket. “Certainly, just let me find my bung knife, an’ I’ll cut yore nose off an’ carve ye another…. Hi, where are ye runnin to? Come back, mate!”

Up in the Belltower two shining, dark eyes watched the searchers below. This was one Wyte who had vowed not to return to the reeking cavern without a live captive.

9

The rain stopped falling an hour before dawn, making the daybreak beautiful in its serenity. Daylight showed the skies in banded layers of pink and pearl grey, with smooth cloud banks illuminated gold underneath by the rising sun. Birds were trilling everywhere as blossom and leaf raised their drooping faces to the growing warmth. Five ravens, weary and bedraggled, landed in the branches of the birch tree, outside the cave entrance. Veeku, leader of the carrion crows, looked them over with a keen, observant glance. He bowed in a servile manner to the ravens. “Kraah, my Lords, the Doomwyte awaits you!”

Korvus Skurr did not wish to confront his brothers from an exalted position in the yellow-fogged atmosphere of the big cave. With Sicariss perched upon his head, the big raven stalked about at the edge of the dark pool. He watched four of the ravens carrying the fifth one between them. They were all capable-looking birds, but none as tall and powerfully built as Korvus, the leader of the brood. They laid the injured bird down at the poolside. Korvus could plainly see the thin metal arrow protruding from the back of his left wing.

“Garrah, who did this to ye, Murig?”

The raven managed to lift its head. “Yaark! ’Twas a long-legged earthcrawler, who lives in the Redstone house. I am hurt bad by this thing.”