Read The Sable Quean for Free Online
Authors: Brian Jacques
“Yore like an ole frog wirra warty bum. Stop worryin’. Look, you stay ’ere—this won’t take long. I’ll be in an’ out afore ye knows it. Tell yer wot, I’ll bring ye a pie back, all for yoreself. How’d ye like that?”
Dinko spat out a sour blackberry. “Wot sorta pie?”
Globby, having reached the desired branch, looked down. “I dunno. Wot sort d’yer like? Apple or maybe plum? Suit yerself.”
Dinko gave it some thought. “See if’n they got apple an’ plum, an’ damson, too, or strawberry.”
Globby sniggered. “Wot, all in one pie?”
Dinko looked indignant. “Well, ye never know. Daclaw said they must ’ave a big cookin’ place in there. I betcha they could cook all sorts o’ pies.”
Globby ventured out onto the branch, halting as it wobbled slightly. “Righto. I’ll see wot I kin get!”
A moment later, he made his daring leap and was clinging to the battlements, hauling himself up, muttering, “Knowed I could do it. Now, where’s the big cookin’ place?”
4
The endless hiss of breaking waves was softened to a weary sigh by the ebbing tide. Gulls wheeled and soared over the dawn-lit sea. Clear skies and a rapidly blooming sun predicted another fine summer day. Leaving two sets of pawtracks in their wake, Buckler and Diggs travelled east from Salamandastron.
Buckler was packing one of the bellropes next to his long blade. He marched energetically, with a spring to his paw-step. Diggs, however, was already lagging behind, panting and blowing. He was burdened down by an overfull haversack, bulging with food. The bellrope he carried trailed the ground, constantly tripping him. Buckler halted, waiting for him to catch up.
“Pick those paws up, mate. It’s a wonder you can walk at all. The size of that breakfast you scoffed would’ve staggered a regiment. Where’d you shove it all?”
The tubby Diggs hitched up his huge backpack. “Take my tip, old scout. A chap needs lots o’ fodder t’keep himself goin’, wot. Ever heard the sayin’ that an army marches on its jolly old stomach?”
Hiding a smile, Buckler jollied him along. “I’ll march on your jolly old stomach, if y’don’t keep up. Hup two three, Diggs—let’s see you stepping out. I’d like to get to Redwall while I’m still young enough to enjoy the place.”
Diggs caught up with an amazing burst of speed. “Red flippin’ wall! Y’mean the blinkin’ Abbey?”
Buckler nodded. “Must be. I’ve not heard of any other Abbeys called Redwall, have you?”
The revelation spurred Diggs to increase his pace further. “I say, simply spiffin’, wot! All those wonderful vittles, the banquets an’ whatnot, picnics an’ super suppers. Hoho, I’ll bet breakfast’s a real treat. Wonder if they serve it t’you in bed, wot?”
He halted suddenly in a swirl of sand, rounding wrathfully upon his companion. “Just a tick . . . you cad! You flippin’ rotter! You never said anything t’me about goin’ to Redwall. I thought we were goin’ to visit your bally brother. Oh, yah boo sucks t’you, Buckler blinkin’ Kordyne. Some friend you jolly well turned out t’be, wot!”
Buckler had to double march to keep up with his indignant companion. “Sorry, mate. I must’ve forgotten to tell you we were going to Redwall first. But what d’you suppose these ropes are for?”
Diggs continued his rapid pace, waving his paws about in agitation. “How’m I supposed t’know, eh? You said your brother was a flippin’ farmer. I thought ropes were things farmers used for . . . for tyin’ up their confounded crops, or whatever. Alls I know is that this rope I’m carryin’ is jolly heavy, heavier’n yours, I bet, wot!”
Buckler explained. “They’re both the same weight, because they’re bellropes. A gift from Lord Brang to Abbess Marjoram. He asked me to deliver them.”
Diggs huffed. “Oh, very kind of him, t’be sure. Hah, you’d think a chap could deliver his own bloomin’ bellropes instead o’
Dinko spat out a sour blackberry. “Wot sorta pie?”
Globby, having reached the desired branch, looked down. “I dunno. Wot sort d’yer like? Apple or maybe plum? Suit yerself.”
Dinko gave it some thought. “See if’n they got apple an’ plum, an’ damson, too, or strawberry.”
Globby sniggered. “Wot, all in one pie?”
Dinko looked indignant. “Well, ye never know. Daclaw said they must ’ave a big cookin’ place in there. I betcha they could cook all sorts o’ pies.”
Globby ventured out onto the branch, halting as it wobbled slightly. “Righto. I’ll see wot I kin get!”
A moment later, he made his daring leap and was clinging to the battlements, hauling himself up, muttering, “Knowed I could do it. Now, where’s the big cookin’ place?”
4
The endless hiss of breaking waves was softened to a weary sigh by the ebbing tide. Gulls wheeled and soared over the dawn-lit sea. Clear skies and a rapidly blooming sun predicted another fine summer day. Leaving two sets of pawtracks in their wake, Buckler and Diggs travelled east from Salamandastron.
Buckler was packing one of the bellropes next to his long blade. He marched energetically, with a spring to his paw-step. Diggs, however, was already lagging behind, panting and blowing. He was burdened down by an overfull haversack, bulging with food. The bellrope he carried trailed the ground, constantly tripping him. Buckler halted, waiting for him to catch up.
“Pick those paws up, mate. It’s a wonder you can walk at all. The size of that breakfast you scoffed would’ve staggered a regiment. Where’d you shove it all?”
The tubby Diggs hitched up his huge backpack. “Take my tip, old scout. A chap needs lots o’ fodder t’keep himself goin’, wot. Ever heard the sayin’ that an army marches on its jolly old stomach?”
Hiding a smile, Buckler jollied him along. “I’ll march on your jolly old stomach, if y’don’t keep up. Hup two three, Diggs—let’s see you stepping out. I’d like to get to Redwall while I’m still young enough to enjoy the place.”
Diggs caught up with an amazing burst of speed. “Red flippin’ wall! Y’mean the blinkin’ Abbey?”
Buckler nodded. “Must be. I’ve not heard of any other Abbeys called Redwall, have you?”
The revelation spurred Diggs to increase his pace further. “I say, simply spiffin’, wot! All those wonderful vittles, the banquets an’ whatnot, picnics an’ super suppers. Hoho, I’ll bet breakfast’s a real treat. Wonder if they serve it t’you in bed, wot?”
He halted suddenly in a swirl of sand, rounding wrathfully upon his companion. “Just a tick . . . you cad! You flippin’ rotter! You never said anything t’me about goin’ to Redwall. I thought we were goin’ to visit your bally brother. Oh, yah boo sucks t’you, Buckler blinkin’ Kordyne. Some friend you jolly well turned out t’be, wot!”
Buckler had to double march to keep up with his indignant companion. “Sorry, mate. I must’ve forgotten to tell you we were going to Redwall first. But what d’you suppose these ropes are for?”
Diggs continued his rapid pace, waving his paws about in agitation. “How’m I supposed t’know, eh? You said your brother was a flippin’ farmer. I thought ropes were things farmers used for . . . for tyin’ up their confounded crops, or whatever. Alls I know is that this rope I’m carryin’ is jolly heavy, heavier’n yours, I bet, wot!”
Buckler explained. “They’re both the same weight, because they’re bellropes. A gift from Lord Brang to Abbess Marjoram. He asked me to deliver them.”
Diggs huffed. “Oh, very kind of him, t’be sure. Hah, you’d think a chap could deliver his own bloomin’ bellropes instead o’