The Secret of Loora
It was a lazy autumn afternoon in Redwall Abbey. The chores were done and goodbeasts milled about the lawns, chatting and sitting to enjoy the leaves' golden glow. Harvesters carried baskets of the last ripe fruits to the kitchens, while goodwives picked wildflowers to grace the picnic tables for their outside suppers. However, in a corner of the orchard, it wasn't as quiet.
"Pway it agin, miz Roguelilly!" a tiny squirrel Dibbun cried out. The tall mousemaid had been playing jigs and reels for the Dibbuns, the Abbey's little ones, all day.
"No, no, I've had enough of the Windrush Reel!" Roguelilly panted for breath, laying down her small flute, the one that had been handed down for generations by her family from her great-great grandfather Gonff.
"Then I tickle you!" The squirrelbabe leapt onto the mousemaid, tickling her all over.
"Whooohaha! No, sto-whoooohahahaha! Please, I-hahahaha!" Roguelilly rolled about on the grass, laughing uncontrollably, the squirrelbabe on top of her.
"Honestly, Roguelilly, I don't know who's worse. You, the Dibbuns, or the otters," said Abbot Saxtus , looking toward the otters who wrestled with the slightly older Dibbuns, or caught them as they jumped out of trees. Suddenly, they heard the Joseph bell toll out suppertime.
"Come now, my little ones!" the Abbot called, "It is time for supper."
Supper that evening was nothing fancy, but it was definitely delicious. Abbot Saxtus sat next to Simeon, the blind Herbalist.
"It will be a fine evening, eh, Simeon?" The Abbot looked toward his companion, but the blind old mouse didn't look as happy.
"Father Abbot, I believe you had better get everyone inside, right this instant."
Instantly, the Abbot of Redwall was up and calling for attention. He trusted Simeon's opinions greatly, for the Herbalist was rarely wrong in his opinions.
"Everybeast, pack up and get inside!" Quite suddenly, there was a deafening crash of thunder and blinding flash of lightning as black clouds poured in from the southern skies. Everybeast was drenched in their rush to get inside by the torrential downpours of rain. Picnic tables and food forgotten, everybeast ran to get dry in the Great Hall.
******
Once inside, Roguelilly drew the blind Herbalist Simeon aside.
"Simeon, didn't yah know about the storm earlier? Why didn't yah tell us, matey?"
"My dear little Roguelilly, I didn't even know until but a few moments ago!"
"Are ye sure, sir? That's very uncommon for you."
"I can assure you, Rogue, I know it's uncommon. But what can I say?"
"You're right, sir, forgive me. I need to learn to trust the word of my elders. A thief like my ancestor Gonff I am, but a mind-reader I am not. I cannot steal your thoughts."
Simeon was about to reply when a pounding on the main gate caught the attention of the Abbeydwellers. Outside, they heard a voice and the crying of a babe.
"Please, let us in!"
The Abbey Bellringer, Rufe Brush, ran with squirrel agility out the door to the top of the battlements. Quickly as he could, his best friend Durry Quill followed him, and Durry was followed by the Abbot.
At the main gate there was a young vixen, holding a bundle of cloth that appeared to be a baby. Rufe was leery toward the fox.
"What business do ye have here, vixen?" he snarled down to the pitiful creature. The vixen, seemingly unaccustomed to being regarded as dangerous, looked imploringly at the three figures on the battlements.
"Please, good sir, there's no time to explain! Please, let me in! Please, before the Bloodeyes gets me!" The vixen looked terrified, tears streamed down her already rain-matted face. The Abbey Bellringer showed no pity or remorse for the female fox. Just as he was going to turn her away, the Abbot placed a light paw on his shoulder.
"Fox are usually regarded as vermin, Rufe, I know. But this one has a babe with her. What of the babe, should we turn it away too? Should we let it die from this Bloodeyes, whatever it is, solely because the fox may be a vermin? If you do not think of the vixen in your decision, think of the babe." Rufe Brush looked from the Abbot to the vixen and back to the Abbot. Finally, he relented.
"Alright, vixen, come on in. But mind you, don't try anything. I'll have my eyes on you. And remember, I'm only doing this for the babe." With that, the strong squirrel nimbly ran down the battlement stairs to unbolt the doors. Scarcely had the doors been cracked open than the vixen scrambled through, the babe tucked in her cloak. Relief but fear flooded her face.
"Oh, thank you, kind sirs, thank you so much! Bless your good hearts! Thank you for saving me from Bloodeyes," she managed to say between sobs of relief and exhaustion. It was only then that they saw how badly the vixen was trembling. The Abbot placed a paw around her shoulders to escort her to the Great Hall. Before they walked off, using the Abbot's hood as shelter from the rain, Rufe demanded one last question of the vixen.
"Who is Bloodeyes?"
"You'll know soon enough." With that, a piercing scream rent the air. Rufe and Durry rushed to the top of the battlements once again as the Abbot led the vixen and babe to the Abbey.
The two friends watched in horrified amazement as threescore vermin came their way, headed by a white figure on the back of the largest shrike they had ever seen. The group stopped in front of the Abbey's main gates. The shrike neatly stopped and landed. Durry and Rufe struggled greatly to see the face of the beast on its back, but the sky was rapidly darkening with the mix of the black thunderclouds and the twilight turning into night. The white figure, obviously the leader, shouted up to them.
"We know ye 'arbor th' vixin 'ere! Wot've ye done wid 'er?" she snarled.
"What vixen are you talking about, vermin?"
"Ye know wot vixen, squirrel! Th' one thah ran here wid th' babe!"
"We've got no idea wot yer talkin' about. There's no vixen roundabouts here. Be gone with ye, darken our Abbey no longer!" Durry Quill yelled down. This answer did not please the white beast.
"Alright, ye've chosen not to answer the Lady Bloodeyes! Keep the vixen fer now, but I tell ye, this isn't the last ye've seen of us! Oh, no, me laddos, 'tis just th' beginnin'!"
At that moment, a brilliant flash of light illuminated Mossflower woods, and the white beast's face. It was an ermine, pure white and tall. She had a delicate pink nose, and her mouth, which was open in a snarl, was also a pale pink. But this was not what made her frightening to the friends on the walltop. What made her frightening was her eyes. They were a blood red, and slanted. For several moments Durry and Rufe could not tear their gazes away from those eyes. Durry was the first to recover.
"Yah, be gone wid ye, ermine. You 'ave no business here!" he spat to the red-eyed ermine. With that, the shrike gave an unearthly, piercing shriek and took off in the air, Lady Bloodeyes on its back, with the vermin following them.
The squirrel and the hedgehog remained on the battlements for a few more moments before rushing back to the Abbey to report to Abbot Saxtus.
It was a lazy autumn afternoon in Redwall Abbey. The chores were done and goodbeasts milled about the lawns, chatting and sitting to enjoy the leaves' golden glow. Harvesters carried baskets of the last ripe fruits to the kitchens, while goodwives picked wildflowers to grace the picnic tables for their outside suppers. However, in a corner of the orchard, it wasn't as quiet.
"Pway it agin, miz Roguelilly!" a tiny squirrel Dibbun cried out. The tall mousemaid had been playing jigs and reels for the Dibbuns, the Abbey's little ones, all day.
"No, no, I've had enough of the Windrush Reel!" Roguelilly panted for breath, laying down her small flute, the one that had been handed down for generations by her family from her great-great grandfather Gonff.
"Then I tickle you!" The squirrelbabe leapt onto the mousemaid, tickling her all over.
"Whooohaha! No, sto-whoooohahahaha! Please, I-hahahaha!" Roguelilly rolled about on the grass, laughing uncontrollably, the squirrelbabe on top of her.
"Honestly, Roguelilly, I don't know who's worse. You, the Dibbuns, or the otters," said Abbot Saxtus , looking toward the otters who wrestled with the slightly older Dibbuns, or caught them as they jumped out of trees. Suddenly, they heard the Joseph bell toll out suppertime.
"Come now, my little ones!" the Abbot called, "It is time for supper."
Supper that evening was nothing fancy, but it was definitely delicious. Abbot Saxtus sat next to Simeon, the blind Herbalist.
"It will be a fine evening, eh, Simeon?" The Abbot looked toward his companion, but the blind old mouse didn't look as happy.
"Father Abbot, I believe you had better get everyone inside, right this instant."
Instantly, the Abbot of Redwall was up and calling for attention. He trusted Simeon's opinions greatly, for the Herbalist was rarely wrong in his opinions.
"Everybeast, pack up and get inside!" Quite suddenly, there was a deafening crash of thunder and blinding flash of lightning as black clouds poured in from the southern skies. Everybeast was drenched in their rush to get inside by the torrential downpours of rain. Picnic tables and food forgotten, everybeast ran to get dry in the Great Hall.
******
Once inside, Roguelilly drew the blind Herbalist Simeon aside.
"Simeon, didn't yah know about the storm earlier? Why didn't yah tell us, matey?"
"My dear little Roguelilly, I didn't even know until but a few moments ago!"
"Are ye sure, sir? That's very uncommon for you."
"I can assure you, Rogue, I know it's uncommon. But what can I say?"
"You're right, sir, forgive me. I need to learn to trust the word of my elders. A thief like my ancestor Gonff I am, but a mind-reader I am not. I cannot steal your thoughts."
Simeon was about to reply when a pounding on the main gate caught the attention of the Abbeydwellers. Outside, they heard a voice and the crying of a babe.
"Please, let us in!"
The Abbey Bellringer, Rufe Brush, ran with squirrel agility out the door to the top of the battlements. Quickly as he could, his best friend Durry Quill followed him, and Durry was followed by the Abbot.
At the main gate there was a young vixen, holding a bundle of cloth that appeared to be a baby. Rufe was leery toward the fox.
"What business do ye have here, vixen?" he snarled down to the pitiful creature. The vixen, seemingly unaccustomed to being regarded as dangerous, looked imploringly at the three figures on the battlements.
"Please, good sir, there's no time to explain! Please, let me in! Please, before the Bloodeyes gets me!" The vixen looked terrified, tears streamed down her already rain-matted face. The Abbey Bellringer showed no pity or remorse for the female fox. Just as he was going to turn her away, the Abbot placed a light paw on his shoulder.
"Fox are usually regarded as vermin, Rufe, I know. But this one has a babe with her. What of the babe, should we turn it away too? Should we let it die from this Bloodeyes, whatever it is, solely because the fox may be a vermin? If you do not think of the vixen in your decision, think of the babe." Rufe Brush looked from the Abbot to the vixen and back to the Abbot. Finally, he relented.
"Alright, vixen, come on in. But mind you, don't try anything. I'll have my eyes on you. And remember, I'm only doing this for the babe." With that, the strong squirrel nimbly ran down the battlement stairs to unbolt the doors. Scarcely had the doors been cracked open than the vixen scrambled through, the babe tucked in her cloak. Relief but fear flooded her face.
"Oh, thank you, kind sirs, thank you so much! Bless your good hearts! Thank you for saving me from Bloodeyes," she managed to say between sobs of relief and exhaustion. It was only then that they saw how badly the vixen was trembling. The Abbot placed a paw around her shoulders to escort her to the Great Hall. Before they walked off, using the Abbot's hood as shelter from the rain, Rufe demanded one last question of the vixen.
"Who is Bloodeyes?"
"You'll know soon enough." With that, a piercing scream rent the air. Rufe and Durry rushed to the top of the battlements once again as the Abbot led the vixen and babe to the Abbey.
The two friends watched in horrified amazement as threescore vermin came their way, headed by a white figure on the back of the largest shrike they had ever seen. The group stopped in front of the Abbey's main gates. The shrike neatly stopped and landed. Durry and Rufe struggled greatly to see the face of the beast on its back, but the sky was rapidly darkening with the mix of the black thunderclouds and the twilight turning into night. The white figure, obviously the leader, shouted up to them.
"We know ye 'arbor th' vixin 'ere! Wot've ye done wid 'er?" she snarled.
"What vixen are you talking about, vermin?"
"Ye know wot vixen, squirrel! Th' one thah ran here wid th' babe!"
"We've got no idea wot yer talkin' about. There's no vixen roundabouts here. Be gone with ye, darken our Abbey no longer!" Durry Quill yelled down. This answer did not please the white beast.
"Alright, ye've chosen not to answer the Lady Bloodeyes! Keep the vixen fer now, but I tell ye, this isn't the last ye've seen of us! Oh, no, me laddos, 'tis just th' beginnin'!"
At that moment, a brilliant flash of light illuminated Mossflower woods, and the white beast's face. It was an ermine, pure white and tall. She had a delicate pink nose, and her mouth, which was open in a snarl, was also a pale pink. But this was not what made her frightening to the friends on the walltop. What made her frightening was her eyes. They were a blood red, and slanted. For several moments Durry and Rufe could not tear their gazes away from those eyes. Durry was the first to recover.
"Yah, be gone wid ye, ermine. You 'ave no business here!" he spat to the red-eyed ermine. With that, the shrike gave an unearthly, piercing shriek and took off in the air, Lady Bloodeyes on its back, with the vermin following them.
The squirrel and the hedgehog remained on the battlements for a few more moments before rushing back to the Abbey to report to Abbot Saxtus.