Eulalia! (10 page)

The haremaid thought of enforcing her ban on the owl's breakfast, but one look at the wicked talons stuffing a scone between the razor curves of the lethal beak changed Maudie's mind. However, she was not her normal cheerful self, and treated Asio coolly as they shared the scones. After they had eaten, the owl began pacing back and forth, swivelling his head. “Ah've been thinkin', lass!”

The haremaid replied snootily, “Oh really, is that where the noise was coming from!”

Asio chuckled. “Nay, pudden'ead, owls don't make noises when they think!”

Maudie immediately felt sorry for her waspish remark. “Sorry, what was it you were thinkin', old lad?”

The owl explained. “This badger thou art lookin' for, ah can tell thee, hide nor hair of him ain't been sighted hereabouts all season. But if there was such a beast in the land, ah'll wager somebody at Redwall Abbey would've spotted 'im. Aye, Redwall, that's the place, lots o' travellers visits there, lass!”

Maudie's ears stood up straight. “Oh, corks, I've just remembered, that's where I was ordered to go. Redwall. Oh, I'd dearly love to visit that jolly old heap, I've heard so flippin' much about it, from the chaps at Salamandastron who've been there. I say, Asio, you don't actually know how t'get there, do you?”

The owl winked a huge yellow eye at her. “Ah did once upon a day, but ah've forgotten now. Still, never fret, lass, ah know who does, an' ah can take ye to 'em as well!”

Maudie began packing her scant belongings. “Splendid, right, lead on, O feathered matey. Er, by the way, who exactly is it that you know, wot?”

Asio pecked at a few scone crumbs that had stuck to his talons. “Hasn't thee heard of the Guosim?”

The haremaid stood, ready to leave. “Oh, y'mean the shrew chaps, Guosim. ‘Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower,' first letter of each word, that's how they got their name, y'know, Guosim! I came across 'em one time, when I was out with the jolly old Long Patrol. Pretty odd bunch, the Guosim, singin' and feastin' one moment, then arguin' an' scrappin' the next, wot!”

The owl's yellow eyes widened in awe. “Well, blow mah feathers away, lass, ah never knew that was wot the name Guosim meant! Mossflower's Shrews in Union of Guerillas. How dids't thou remember all that? Ah were right when ah fust met thee. Magic, that's wot thee are, lass, magic!”

Maudie did not provoke further discussion with Asio by arguing. She followed him as he set out into the deep woodlands. The owl flew gracefully slow, keeping near to the ground, and gossiping constantly.

“Ah were plannin' on poppin' o'er to visit the shrews, but ah went an' forgot. Woe to birds that gets owld, that's wot ah says, lass. This head o' mine has gotten like a leaky pot, nothin' stays long in it these days.”

Maudie nodded. “Just as long as you know which way we're goin', old chap, don't want t'get jolly well lost.”

Asio hooted scornfully. “Get lost goin' to Bulrush Bower? Ah could find mah way theer blindfold, an' with both wings tied behind mah back, lass.”

They ploughed deeper into the vast woodland tracts, to areas where the tree canopy was so dense that only a soft, green light prevailed. It was mossy underpaw, and silent, the monolith trunks of giant trees reared upward, like columns of black stone.

Asio winged toward a soft pool of golden radiance, which could be seen some distance off, remarking, “Ah'd have t'be daft to miss Bulrush Bower, sithee, there 'tis, lass. May'ap we'll be in time for lunch.”

Maudie perked up at the mention of food. “Indeed, they sound like a jolly lot, can you hear 'em singin', listen.”

Sure enough, the sound of rough bass voices, both old and young, became plain as they drew closer.

Maudie found herself skipping along to the catchy air.

Asio merely muttered grumpily. “Huh, wot's all that supposed t'mean?”

The haremaid chided her friend. “Why should it have to mean anythin', it's just a jolly happy song, an' I for one blinkin' well like it!”

Bulrush Bower was a small pond in a clearing. It was, of course, fringed entirely by bulrushes. The place was packed with Guosim shrews, small, spiky-furred beasts with long snouts. Each one wore a coloured headband and a broad, buckled belt, into which was tucked a little rapier; their only other clothing was a short kilt. They showed no fear of their two visitors, though one fellow, an aggressive-looking type, drew his sword, barring their way. “Where d'ye think yore off to, eh?”

Maudie bowed formally, she knew how to deal with creatures like this. Her tone was cool and distant. “I'm a messenger from the Lord o' Salamandastron, take me to your chief. Don't stand there lookin' useless, put up that blade, an' bloomin' well shift yourself, laddie buck. Sharpish, wot!”

The shrew immediately did as he was bidden, they followed him, with Asio murmuring, “Marvellous! Ecky thump, ah knew the lass were magic!”

A large area of the sunny sward had been covered with picnic tablecloths, it was spread with scores of pies, each one with a cream topping. A fat-bellied shrew, with overlarge ears, was striding around amid the pies. Dabbing his paw into odd ones, he would taste it, then pull a wry face. Turning to meet the visitors, he wiped his lips with a kerchief.

“Asio Bardwing, yore a day late, the festival started yesterday. I suppose you forgot as usual. Hello, who's this, a friend o' yourn?”

Asio blinked several times, revolving his head. “This is er, er…oh, tell him who thou art, lass!”

The haremaid held out her paw. “The name's Maudie Mugsberry Thropple, sah, from Salamandastron.”

The shrew seemed impressed, he shook Maudie's paw in a grip like a steel nutcracker. “Salamandastron, eh? Welcome, miss. I'm chieftain o' these Guosim an' my name's Log a Log Luglug.”

Log a Log was always the given title for a shrew chieftain. Luglug pointed to his oversized ears. “Don't even bother askin' how I came by the name o' Luglug, or ye could find yoreself in trouble.” Picking up a pie, he offered it to them. “I'd like ye to try this, an' tell me wot ye think. Our best cook an' her mate are off visitin' relatives. So some of the young 'uns volunteered to 'elp out with pie makin'. Wot ye see is the results of their efforts.”

The pies looked appetising enough, but a taste from each of Luglug's guests confirmed his worst fears. After just one bite, Maudie and Asio pulled horrible faces, reaching for water to wash away the taste. Asio squinched his eyes hard.

“Burst me beak! Art thou tryin' t'poison us, Luglug?”

Maudie's ears shot up stiffly as she gasped out, “By the left! Pie, d'ye call that? Guuurrrgh! It's enough t'give you the clangs'n'collywobbles for ten seasons. What did they blinkin' well put in it?”

Log a Log Luglug shrugged. “Some fruit from three seasons back, swampvetch, stinkweed, pounded ransom, an' swine parsley. The usual stuff young scallywags put in when they wants to upset their elders. I wish we had a decent cook with us, I really do.”

Maudie was not normally one to volunteer, but she saw an opportunity to curry favour with the shrew chieftain. “Say no more, sah, I'm the very chapess you're lookin' for, I was assistant cook at Salamandastron. Now, where's the bloomin' galley, an' some fresh ingredients, wot?”

Luglug called some of the older shrews over. “Show Miz Maudie the supplies, an' get a good fire goin' under them clay ovens. Do as she tells ye, an' mayhaps we'll get somethin' good to eat t'day.” He shook his head irately at the array of dreadful pies. “Dig a hole an' bury these, as deep as ye can!”

Maudie had a sudden idea. She approached Luglug, whispering in his ear, “'Scuse me, sah, but how about this for a wheeze…”

Luglug listened to the haremaid's scheme, then he grinned broadly and smote her heartily on the back. “I don't know wot a wheeze is, but if'n that's wot ye call it then I'm all for it!”

He hailed a passing young shrew. “Ahoy, Dinger, was you one o' the pie-makin' crew?”

Dinger and several of his young friends smirked maliciously. Their culinary atrocities had not gone unnoticed. Dinger took a sweeping bow. “Aye, me an' me mates made 'em special for ye!”

Luglug selected two pies, passing one to Maudie. The shrew chieftain winked at Dinger. “That was good of ye, but we ain't greedybeasts, we'll share em with ye!”
Splaaattt!
The pie caught Dinger square in the mouth. Maudie's pie came a respectable second, landing flat on the forehead of a young shrew close to Dinger. A few of the young shrews got behind Maudie and Luglug, pelting them vigorously with the cream topped pies. That did it! Within moments, Bulrush Bower became the scene of a fully fledged pie fight. Amid howls of laughter, the dreadful missiles flew back and forth between young shrews and their elders. Pies squelched into faces as the shrews slithered and slipped to take aim, or to avoid flying pies.

When the first pie was launched, Asio fled into the cover of a spruce tree, being of the opinion that owls were pretty poor pie fighters. Not so with Maudie and Luglug; caked from tip to tail with squashed cream, crust and filling, they battled on heroically, giggling, gurgling and falling over backward whenever they were hit. It was enormous fun while it lasted, but finally the pies ran out, and everybeast sat down amid the slutchy residue.

Asio flew down to a lower perch, casting a jaundiced owl's eye over the haremaid and the shrew chieftain. He pointed a wing accusingly at them. “Thou wert the ones that started all this, look at the mess of ye, ah've never seen owt like it!”

Young Dinger rose from the debris, blowing pie filling from the tip of his snout. Exchanging reproving glances with Asio, he shook a paw at Luglug and his contingent, exclaiming, “Old 'uns these days, I don't know, wot's the world coming to, eh?”

The statement caused roars of unbridled laughter from all the Guosim. Heaving themselves upright, and supporting one another, the entire shrew tribe tottered into the pond shallows to clean up.

 

There were willing paws aplenty to help Maudie with her cooking, by midnoon her offering was ready. The haremaid did not attempt anything fancy, she prepared food that was plain, but satisfying. Flatcakes with nuts and berries, fresh fruit salad, some shrew cheeses, chopped celery stalks and a cordial of dandelion and burdock. The Guosim chieftain complimented her as they sat eating together.

“This is a perfect feast for a happy summer's day, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun!”

Young Dinger called out, “Aye, me, too, Chief. Wot d'ye say we do this once every summer, pie fight an' all?” There were shouts of agreement from the Guosim.

Asio helped himself to another flatcake. “Mayhaps thou could call it Mad Maudie Day!”

Luglug clinked his beaker with the haremaid's cup. “Mad Maudie Day it'll be, thank ye, friend, if'n there's anythin' we can do for ye, just ask me anytime.”

Maudie was in like a shot. “Er, actually there is, sah, I was wonderin' if you could possibly show me the way to Redwall Abbey. I need t'get there, doncha know?” She explained the mission Lord Asheye had sent her upon, asking if the shrews had seen the badger with the flame, who walked with the banished one.

Log a Log Luglug stroked his snout reflectively. “Ain't seen nobeast like that 'ereabouts, miz, a badger like that'd stick out like a lantern at night. As for takin' ye to Redwall, well, that's quite a journey. But nothin' a Guosim couldn't manage. I'll do ye a deal, though: you stay 'ere an' cook supper for us this evenin'. Then first thing tomorrer we'll break camp an' take ye to the Abbey. Is that a bargain?”

Maudie shook Luglug's outstretched paw. “Rather, I'll say it is, how'd you like a drop of woodland broth to sup round the fire tonight, wot?”

Mad Maudie (the Hon.) Mugberry Thropple had been trained by the best cooks at Salamandastron. Even the great Lord Asheye always asked for seconds when she served up broths, which were her speciality. That evening she produced a woodland broth which had the Guosim savouring every drop.

Asio assured the shrews solemnly, “Ah tell thee, yon lass is nowt but magic, an' thee can tek mah word on it!”

After supper, Maudie sat by the campfire with the Guosim as the young ones sang and danced. It was a soft summer night, with the darkened skies reflecting starlight upon the still surface of the pond at Bulrush Bower. Tomorrow she would start the journey to Redwall, and see the fabled Abbey for herself. Asio was dozing, though he opened one eye, to comment on the Guosim music.

“Hmm, tain't too bad, mayhaps ah'll give 'em a song later.”