[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain by Brian Jacques Page A

beyond the west ramparts. The sound blended melodiously with the cooing of woodpigeon from the woodland on the far side of the east wall.
    The poignant moment was broken by the interruption of two gruff voices singing raucously. Tiria knew it was her father and Brink, coming up from the Abbey pond after their night fishing. She also realized that a meeting with the jolly pair would result in being questioned. What was she doing outdoors so early, couldn’t she sleep, had she eaten a good breakfast yet? Avoiding the tiresome interview, the ottermaid stepped behind a protruding buttress and waited for them to go indoors. However, the happy pair were in no hurry.
    Carrying a splendid grayling between them in a net, Brink and Banjon sang away lustily.
    â€œO I knew a worm who turned to his tail,
an’ this is wot he said,
I wish that you’d stop followin’ me,
as though we both were wed.
Said the tail to the head stop pullin’ me,
’cos I’ve no wish to go,
besides, I think yore really a tail,
an’ I’m the head you know!
This caused the worm some great concern,
he said, I’m sure yore wrong,
an’ they both began to bicker about,
to whom did the stomach belong?
Both tempers did boil, while disputin’ a coil,
they fell into an awful fight,
they wriggled an’ squirmed an’ waggled an’ turned,
for worms as ye know can’t bite.
Then a big blackbird, who’d heard every word,
came flutterin’ out of a tree,
I’ll oblige ye both, the blackbird quoth,
an’ he ate them both for tea.
So that was that, he settled their spat,
an’ I’ll bid ye all good day,
for it’s head to tails when reasonin’ fails,
a worm should crawl away!”
    They finished the song, but Tiria had to wait whilst they performed a little jig on the Abbey steps, shaking paws and patting each other’s backs triumphantly. The slam of the Abbey door told the ottermaid that they had gone inside. She came out of hiding and continued her rambling walk.
    With no real purpose, Tiria made her way up the wallsteps to the northwest corner of the ramparts, where she stood staring out over the flatlands. Across these plains, she had been told, were hills, mountains and the shores which bordered the Western Sea. Like many Redwallers, she had never traversed that far, but being an otter, Tiria knew that someday she would. Oblivious to the sounds of Abbeydwellers commencing their day’s activities behind her, she remained, caught in a reverie of unknown problems.
    At first, she did not notice that the dark shape was coming toward her. Only when it got closer did Tiria see that it was a bird—a large barnacle goose, much bulkier than an osprey. She wondered why it was flying so low, and alone, too. Geese usually flew very high in a V-shaped gaggle known as a skein. It soared straight in over the battlements, landing on Tiria in an ungainly heap.
    Fortunately, the ottermaid was no weakling. Holding on to the bird, Tiria was able to stop them both from toppling off the walkway to the lawns below. Once its progress was arrested, the goose scrambled free of her and crouched back into the lee of the wall. It was a striking creature. Greyish black with white underfeathers, it had a quaintly comical face which looked rather friendly.
    Tiria straightened up, but all she could think of to say was “Er, good morning!”
    The barnacle goose nodded affably. “I am bidding you a good morning also. I am thinking that this is the place of Red Walls. I am of the Skyfurrows. Some of them have been here before, though not for many seasons. Here is where you have healers, I am told?”
    Tiria noticed a tattered mass of mud and leaves sticking to the newcomer’s neck. “Healers? Oh yes, we have a healer at our Abbey. Has your neck been injured?”
    The goose bent his beak toward the remnants of the makeshift dressing. “It is injured by an arrow I am. The Shellhound