Free The Sable Quean by Brian Jacques

makeshift bedroom. The old water vole shook his head in disbelief. “You mean t’tell me one vermin did all this to my kitchen? Drull, you see to the packed lunches. You, what’s your name?”
    The young stoat avoided the Friar’s icy stare. “Globby.”
    Soogum rolled up his habit sleeves in a businesslike manner. “Well, listen to me, Globby. You’re goin’ to clean this kitchen from top t’bottom. What are you goin’ t’do?”
    Globby saw the Friar pick up the oven paddle and give the air a few experimental whacks.
    “Er, leave it t’me, sir. I’ll ’ave the ole place shinin’ like a new pin afore ye knows it!”
     
    Dawn was streaking the skies with pale light as Dinko dropped into the ditch beside Daclaw and Raddi. His arrival wakened Daclaw, who had been catching a nap. He glared sourly at the young rat.
    ‘Wot are yew doin’ ’ere? Yore supposed t’be watchin’ the back gate with yer mate.”
    Dinko told his group leader what had taken place. “Well, it’s like this, y’see. When we was round there last night, Globby kept on about the nice vittles wot must be inside. So ’e climbed a big tree, crawled along an ’igh branch an’ jumped onto the top of the wall. Said ’e was goin’ t’look for stuff to eat. Any’ow, he went in, an’ I ain’t seen ’ide nor ’air of ’im since, Chief. So I thought I’d better tell ye.”
    Daclaw paced up and down the ditchbed irately. “Went into Redwall, did ’e? Jelly-brained idjit! Young Globby’s dead either way. If’n those inside don’t slay ’im, Zwilt the Shade will fer disobeyin’ orders. Frogskins an’ ’ells teeth, wot am I goin’ t’do now, eh?”
    Raddi came to his help. “Git the others round ’ere, where we can keep an eye on ’em. We’ll carry on watchin’ this front gate for a while.”
    Dinko shrugged. “Wot good’ll that do?”
    Daclaw cuffed him across the ears before speaking. “Aye, wot good’ll that do, eh?”
    Raddi explained, “Well, if’n they’ve slayed Globby, they’ll throw ’is carcass out ’ere in this ditch, mebbe. Then we can tell Zwilt wot ’appened. It’ll show ’im that at least we was carryin’ out orders properly. Don’t stand there gawpin’, young Dinko. Get the others an’ bring ’em round ’ere, go on!”
     
    Granvy unbolted the small east wickergate, peering out at the verdant woodland. “It looks peaceful enough to me.”
    Skipper strode out ahead of Brother Tollum and some squirrels, all of whom were carrying woodcutting tools. He paced the tree line closest to the wall. Looking up, he noted several long limbs and branches, some of them almost touching the battlements.
    “Brother Tollum, start with yonder sycamore, then take that beech next to it. Oh, an’ there’s an oak further along. Tell yore crew t’chop ’em well back, all those long branches.”
    The gaunt Bellringer nodded solemnly. “Right y’are, Skip. We’ll get right to it!”
    The Otter Chieftain made for the east wallsteps, where he met a group of Dibbuns about to go up.
    “Ahoy, mateys! Where do ye think yore off to?”
    Guffy the molebabe was waving a table fork, which he deemed a very useful implement. “Ho, doan’t ee fret about us’n’s, zurr. We’m a-goin’ up thurr to ’elp out, hurr aye!”
    The big otter smiled. “Well, thankee, mates, but you ain’t allowed on the walltops until you’ve growed a bit. I’m afraid ’tis a bit dangerous for Dibbuns. Run off an’ play, now, there’s good liddle beasts.”
    Foremole Darbee and his crew were on the ramparts. Though not greatly fond of heights, the moles worked industriously. Tollum’s squirrels would tie ropes to the chosen branches, throwing them across to the moles. Tugging hard on the ropes, the molecrew stopped the branches springing and bouncing. It was a lot easier to cut the wood once it was held steady. Whenever one was sawn or chopped through, Skipper would yell, “Ahoy, mates, heave ’er away!”
    Some hefty limbs were