Chapter 3.

Extract from the writings of Old Friar Butty, Squirrel Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower country.

I had a twinge in my left footpaw a moment backI hope that's a sign of rain. We could certainly do with a good shower. Everything seems to be drooping or wilting. Badgermum Cregga says 'tis the dryest summer she's ever known, and she's seen more summers than the rest of us put together! Redwallers have had to form a chain from the Abbey pond to the orchard, bringing pails of water for the thirsty trees and vines that produce our fruits and berries. A pity we haven't more able-bodied creaturesRedwall Abbey seems to be populated by the elders or the very young these last few seasons. I can remember in the times when Abbess Tansy ruled, there seemed to be no end of willing otters, moles, mice, squirrels and hedgehogs to perform the daily chores of Redwall. But that was a long time back, when I served as an assistant cook in the kitchens under Old Mother Buscol. Who would have thought the days would arrive when I would be called old? Yes, Old Friar Butty, that's me, too old to cook and far too rheumaticky to serve as Abbot, even though there was a time when everybeast seemed to keep asking me to take up the position. 'Tis a sad reflection, Redwall Abbey without Abbot or Abbess, but that's the way things are this season. Poor old Arven, who was once Abbey Warrior, served as Abbot for three seasons, after Abbess Tansy had gone to her rest. Unfortunately he passed on to the sunlit pastures during the spring, having survived a rough winter. So now there is only myself and Badgermum Cregga, with the good mouse Sister Sloey running the Infirmary, Tragglo Spearback our hedgehog Cellarkeeper, Dig-gum and Gurrbowl, his mole helpers, and Gubbio, who is now Foremole. All that is left of our old friends. The sword of Martin, our Founder and first Abbey Warrior, hangs on the wall in Cregga's room. His brave guiding spirit is blended into the ancient red sandstone of our beautiful Abbey. Seasons have been kind and peace has reigned here many, many summers. I think it is thanks to the spirit of Martin. Oh, I forgot one other still here from the old days. In fact I can see him now, from the gatehouse window where I am sitting, Nutwing the owl. He was one of three born here at Redwall. His brother and sister have long flown off, but Nutwing has stayed and remained faithful to the Abbey. He is, how shall I put it, an unwise old owl, having great lapses of memory in his latter seasons. You will pardon me, I'm sure, but I feel I'm about to be lured away from my recording duties. I just hope 'tis nothing too strenuous.

The owl waddled right up to the gatehouse window and peered in through tiny thick crystal-lensed spectacles, perched on his beak curve. "Hmm, mm. Is that you, Butty?"

The old squirrel poked his head out of the open window, facing Nutwing nose to beak. "Who else would it be, pushing a quill pen, inkstained paws, buried among scrolls on a beautiful summer morn like this? Certainly not yourself, you feathered old fraud."

Nutwing shook his head absently. "Hmm, mm. No, it wouldn't be me. Don't like writing one little bit. D'you think it's likely to rain soon?"

Butty nodded toward the hot blue cloudless sky. "I've had one paw twinge today, but that could mean nothing. I ,ook up and tell me what you think."

Nutwing flapped his wings resignedly. "Hmm. Sky's too far up for me to see. I don't bother with it."

Friar Butty came around outside the gatehouse to where the owl stood. "Well, friend, I'm sure you didn't come this far just to chat about the weather. What d'you want?"

Nutwing thought long and hard, blinking and moving his head from side to side. "Hmm, mm, er, let me see, was it something t'do with ... No, that wasn't it... Perhaps it was . .. Hmm, no, I'd forgotten about that..."

Butty smiled indulgently. "Was it anything to do with strawberries, perhaps?"

Nutwing looked astonished. "How did you know?"

"Because when you flapped your wings a strawberry Jell out on the grass. There it is."

It was a giant of a fruit, shiny red, plump and speckled with seeds. Nutwing grinned happily. Retrieving the strawberry, he gave it to the squirrel. "I brought this beauty over for you, friend. They're taking the berries to tin' kitchen, and your advice is needed." was a giant of a fruit, shiny red, plump and speckled with seeds. Nutwing grinned happily. Retrieving the strawberry, he gave it to the squirrel. "I brought this beauty over for you, friend. They're taking the berries to tin' kitchen, and your advice is needed."

Friar Butty bit into the fruit, wiping juice from his whiskers as he chewed. "Oh, delicious. I hope they're all lln" same quality as this'n. What a wonderful thing a strawberry is. It has a flavor and fragrance all of its own the taste of a good summer. Right, let's go to the kitchens and taste of a good summer. Right, let's go to the kitchens and see how I can be of help." see how I can be of help."

IWigermum Cregga was totally blind, though it did not seem to hamper her greatly. She waited at the Abbey's main door to greet the pair. "Ah, well done, Nutwing, you remembered your errand. Come on, Butty, finish eating that strawberry and get along to the kitchens."

The old Friar was amazed. "But how did you ..."

Redwall's blind Badgermum forestalled the question. "I know 'tis you because you limp a bit on that rheumatic paw and any creature with half a nose and one ear can tell by the aroma and the sound of chomping when some-beast is enjoying a big strawberry. Now, hurry along before the Dibbuns decide what to do with the entire crop."

Gubbio Foremole and Sister Sloey had their paws full, trying to control the greedy Abbeybabes, the Dibbuns, from ravaging the baskets of fruit that were piled up everywhere around the kitchens.

"Yurr, you'm rarscal, git'n ee paws outen yon barsket!"

Foremole lifted a tiny mouse down from the shelftop, where she was rummaging in a basket to find the biggest berries. Sister Sloey menaced two small moles who were stained from ear to smock with crimson juice, shaking a wooden spoon at them as they stuffed strawberries into their mouths with both paws.

"Not another one, d'you hear me? Stop immediately!"

Through a mouthful of the fruit one of the molebabes explained patiently to the Infirmary Sister why they had to complete their self-appointed task. "Nay, marm, us'n's be on'y h'eatin' ee ones that'll go bad soon. Hurr, it'n 'ard job furr ee loikes of uz h'infants!"

The Sister did not share their viewpoint. "The only things that'll go bad are your tummies. You'll be sick as stuffed frogs, the pair of you. Now, stop it this instant!"

All the Dibbuns froze as Cregga's voice boomed severely through the kitchens. "Just point out any Dibbuns who've been pinching strawberries an' I'll deal with them, by the thundering seasons of strife I will!"

The molebabe, Wugger, tugged Friar Butty's habit cord and whispered, "Yurr, zurr Butty, doan't ee tell Badgermum oi bin pinchin' st'awbees an' oi woan't tell on ee!"

The old Friar winked secretly at Wugger and spoke out loud. "Cregga, marm, how could you say such things? I'm sure none of the Dibbuns would be so villainous as to pinch strawberries. They're merely helpin' to carry them in and stack the baskets."

A chorus of agreement burst from the Dibbuns.

"Yuss, Friar be right, marm!"

"Us'n's be gudd an' 'onest beasts!"

"Nono pincha st'awbees, not never!"

Cregga nodded solemnly. "Well, I'm very glad to hear it, because once, many seasons before any of you were born, we had a Dibbun at Redwall who . . . D'you remember what happened to him, Sister Sloey?"

Sloey pursed her lips forbiddingly as she continued the tale. "Oh, I recall that one right enough. He ate strawberries from dawn to dusk on the day of the harvest, never listened to a word when he was told to stop, kept on pinchin' and scoffin' all the biggest and juiciest ones. Guess what happened to him as he was on the stairs to the dormitory?" Sloey gazed around at the wide-eyed Dibbuns hanging on her every word. Suddenly she clapped her paws sharply and shouted out, "He went... Bang! Just like that! Exploded! Was never seen again! Isn't that right, Friar Butty?"

The old squirrel nodded sadly. "Aye, that's what happened, Sister. You can still see the red mark he left halfway up the stairs, poor greedy little mite!"

Shocked and horrified Dibbuns unloaded strawberries from their smock pockets back into the baskets, stunned by the fate of the gluttonous Dibbun in that far gone season. Then they rushed from the kitchens, squeaking and shouting as they headed for the dormitory stairs where the incident was reputed to have taken place.

When they had gone, Cregga popped a strawberry into her mouth, chuckling. "Haha! That story works every summer. I wonder what that bright red mark on the stairs is, though? It feels quite smooth. Probably a lump of quartz in the stone." mouth, chuckling. "Haha! That story works every summer. I wonder what that bright red mark on the stairs is, though? It feels quite smooth. Probably a lump of quartz in the stone."

Nutwing watched Cregga feel around in the basket beside her for another large strawberry. "Hmm, mm. I've seen it. A bit too big for a Dibbun. Must've been a greedy badger who wouldn't stop pinchin' strawberries, eh?"

Tragglo Spearback the Cellarkeeper, an immense hedgehog, lumbered in. Stuffing both paws in his wide canvas apron pocket, he grinned and winked at Nutwing. "Aye, may'aps 'twere a badger. Now then, ole Butty, which ones are mine? Make sure they're good'n'juicy enough to brew into a barrel o' strawberry fizz."

Friar Butty did his rounds of the baskets, sniffing and prodding gently at the fruit they contained, and marking certain ones with a charcoal stick.

"Those should be enough for you, Tragglo, a dozen good baskets. Sister Sloey, you take this one, to sweeten up those herb potions you give to sick Dibbuns. Brother Melilot?"

A fat dormouse emerged from an unlit oven with scrubbing brush and pail in his paws.

"Last time I let moles make damson jam in my oven. Sticks like glue when it bubbles over. Did y'want me, Friar?"

Butty indicated the unmarked baskets. "These are all yours. What d'you plan on making? Strawberry tarts, obviously. I noticed a pot of redcurrant jelly cooling on the windowsill as I came in."

Melilot took off his greasy apron and began tying on a freshly laundered one. "Strawberry tarts for sure, with good shortcrust pastry and lots of whipped meadow-cream on top. I'll probably do some strawberry and pear flans too, and a big strawberry trifle if you'll be good enough to help me, Friar."

Butty agreed willingly. "Oh, yes, an extra big trifle, with plums and raspberries in it too."

Everybeast began contributing its ideas of what made the perfect trifle. the perfect trifle.

"An' lots o' flaked almonds an' hazelnuts sprinkled on top!"

"Aye, with a good beaker of elderberry wine poured in."

"Be sure to set it in blackberry jelly."

"With lots of honeysponge slices t'make it nice an' soggy!"

"Sweet arrowroot custard too, good'n'deep!"

"Burr hurr, an' gurt globbets o' clotted meadowcream .itop o' that!"

The discussion was interrupted when a stocky older M iiirrel strode in, a younger one in his wake, both carrying pails in either paw. The older squirrel, Rusvul, was obviously hot and rather irritated.

"Anybeast interested in lendin' a paw to fetch water from the pond for that orchard out there? Seems there's only the pond for that orchard out there? Seems there's only me an' my son left t'do it." me an' my son left t'do it."

Cregga placed a paw across her brow. "Oh, I'm sorry, Rusvul. I meant to send Nutwing over to tell you the orchard's been watered enough for today."

Nutwing smiled behind his pebble-thick glasses. Hmm, mm. Glad I'm not the only creature who forgets things."

Rusvul had been at Redwall less than three seasons. He had been a wanderer and a warrior, but when his wife died he'd come to stay at Redwall, bringing with him his son Dannflor, a quiet young squirrel. Both were strong and good workers, but Rusvul had changed since the death of his wife. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky creature of former days, but was often quick to take offense, and sometimes difficult to get on with. of former days, but was often quick to take offense, and sometimes difficult to get on with.

He nodded at the creatures assembled in the kitchen, then turned to Dannflor. "Let's put these pails away an' get turned to Dannflor. "Let's put these pails away an' get washed up afore lunch, son." washed up afore lunch, son."

Outside, the Abbey pool seemed to cool Rusvul down a bit. Dannflor washed his paws in silence, watching his father sluice water across his face with both paws, blowing and snorting as it entered his nostrils. Dannflor glanced up at the sky. "Wish it'd rain, then there'd be no need t'carry water, eh?"

Rusvul wriggled a paw in one ear to get the water out. "Aye, son. Wouldn't have been a bad idea for somebeast to tell us the orchard had enough water, an' all."

Dannflor shrugged good-naturedly. "It's not the Badgermum's fault she forgot. She carried as much water as both of us earlier on."

Rusvul nodded grudging agreement. "Mebbe she did, but this place needs a leader, an Abbot or an Abbess. I liked ole Abbot Arven. When he was alive things seemed t'run smoother."

Dannflor dried his paws on the grass. "That's 'cos Arven was a warrior one time, just like you. Prob'ly the reason you got on so well together."

Rusvul smiled one of his rare smiles, and flicked a pebble at his son. "True enough, Dann. Me'n'you are the only warriors left in Redwall now, an' we get on well t'gether, don't we?"

Dannflor caught the pebble and skimmed it out over the pond. "Of course we get on, 'cos I'm your son an' yore my dad. But I've never been in a fight or seen battle, so you couldn't really call me a warrior. I was only a Dibbun before we came here, y'know."

Rusvul's eyes hardened. He took his son's paw and held it tight. "But you are a warrior, Dannflor, I know it. The blood of warriors runs in yore veins. Never forget that, son!"

They rose together and walked toward the orchard, where lunch was being served in the shade of the trees. Dannflor paced easily beside his father. "But Redwall Abbey's the most peaceful place a creature could wish to be. How will I know when I've become a warrior?"

Rusvul stopped and stared at him. "Yore name is Dannflor Reguba. In ancient squirrel language the Reguba was the greatest warrior in all the land. I am called Reguba, as my father was before me. When danger threatens an' you have to face the foebeast, then you will know you are Reguba, bravest of the brave!"

Lunch was a fairly simple one: sliced fruitsapple, pear, greengage and plumsome fresh-baked scones and damson jam, and dandelion and burdock cordial, loamy and cold from Tragglo Cellarhog's vaults. Rusvul sat chatting with Tragglo, while Dannflor chose to sit next to Cregga. The Badgermum reached out a huge paw and ran it gently over his face.

"You are troubled, Dann. What's going on in that mind ill yours?"

The young squirrel sucked foam noisily from the top of his beaker. "Not so much troubled as puzzled, marm. They say you were once a great warrior. My father likes the company of warriors, but he never seems to talk at .my length with you. Why's that?"

Cregga shrugged lightly, her blind eyes facing straight ahead. "Probably because I never talk about my seasons as. a fighter. That is all in the dead past to me. Peace and this beautiful Abbey are what matter in my life now. Do you beautiful Abbey are what matter in my life now. Do you like Redwall, Dann?" like Redwall, Dann?"

"Aye, I like it a lot. It's really home to me."

Cregga smiled, nodding her great striped head. "Good. Tis my home too, though I've never seen it with my eyes. I was blinded in battle before I ever arrived at Redwall. Do me a favor, Dann, look at it and tell me what you see. You can be my eyes. Go on. Let's see if we both live in the same place." my home too, though I've never seen it with my eyes. I was blinded in battle before I ever arrived at Redwall. Do me a favor, Dann, look at it and tell me what you see. You can be my eyes. Go on. Let's see if we both live in the same place."

Dannflor held the blind Badgermum's paw as he spoke. "A path runs from north to south, and Redwall stands by the side of it. Mossflower Wood grows around the north and east walls and partially on the south. A big main threshold gate faces the path, with a little gatehouse just inside; the outer walls are high, thick and solid, built from old red sandstone, like the rest of the Abbey. Battlements and a wide walltop run round the outer walls, making it like a safe fortress. Inside there are gardens and lawns, a pond and this orchard. But in the middle of it all stands the Abbey. It is a huge old building, very high, with a weathervane atop the great long roof, and marvelous stained-glass windows, great arches and columns. Built against one side is a belltower with two bells inside, which are tolled at dawn, midday, twilight and softly at midnight. I like the bells. They have a warm, friendly sound, as if they're watching over us." north and east walls and partially on the south. A big main threshold gate faces the path, with a little gatehouse just inside; the outer walls are high, thick and solid, built from old red sandstone, like the rest of the Abbey. Battlements and a wide walltop run round the outer walls, making it like a safe fortress. Inside there are gardens and lawns, a pond and this orchard. But in the middle of it all stands the Abbey. It is a huge old building, very high, with a weathervane atop the great long roof, and marvelous stained-glass windows, great arches and columns. Built against one side is a belltower with two bells inside, which are tolled at dawn, midday, twilight and softly at midnight. I like the bells. They have a warm, friendly sound, as if they're watching over us."

Cregga squeezed the young squirrel's paw gently. "You have a good eye and a kind heart, Dannflor. Your picture of our Abbey is the same as the one I carry in my imagination."

While they had been talking the sky was starting to cloud over from the southeast, gradually at first, but the clouds increased as a breeze sprang up to drive them along, blotting out the blue summer noon. Friar Butty felt his footpaw twinge again.

"Hah! I knew it. We'll have rain before long, friends."

Splot! Splack! Two large raindrops hit the leaves of a plum tree, one of them rolling down to burst on Foremole Gubbio's nose.

"Ee rain bain't awaitin' on yore word, Butty, et be yurr right naow!"

As the mole spoke, long-awaited rain came splattering and battering suddenly down, a proper summer storm, driven sideways on the wind. Thunder rumbled afar, with a distant lightning flash flaring briefly in the east. Dust turned immediately to mud, dry yellowed grass was flattened against the wet earth, and a tremendous din of countless large drops pattering against foliage and rapping upon treetrunks as it hissed around the Abbey virtually drowned out all other sound.

Brother Melilot and Rusvul swept the linen spread off the ground, and knotting it loosely into a large sack with foodstuffs and dishes inside they bore it off between them to the Abbey. Cregga Badgermum boomed out over the din, "Everybeast inside!" Ambling sideways, she shielded many elders and young ones with her bulk. Sister Sloey tugged at Tragglo's apron, rain pouring down her face into her open mouth as she called to him. the Abbey. Cregga Badgermum boomed out over the din, "Everybeast inside!" Ambling sideways, she shielded many elders and young ones with her bulk. Sister Sloey tugged at Tragglo's apron, rain pouring down her face into her open mouth as she called to him.

"Mister Tragglo, there's two Dibbuns not here!"

Dannflor joined them, his fur plastered flat by the downpour. "That'll be the two molebabes, marm, Wugger an' Blinny. They went off toward the gatehouse as my father an' I were comin' up from the pond."

Tragglo Spearback shooed Sister Sloey off to the Abbey. . "You get yoreself indoors, marm. Me'n'young Dann'll find 'em!" . "You get yoreself indoors, marm. Me'n'young Dann'll find 'em!"

Dannflor and Tragglo dashed across the lawns, heads down, footpaws sloshing and slapping through the wet grass, as the thunder boomed closer and a great fork of lagged lightning rent the sky asunder. Both creatures were driven flat against the gatehouse wall by the wind, and stood there a moment regaining their breath before fighting their way around to the gatehouse door. It was flapping back and forth, for Butty had left it open, and they hurried inside out of the storm. Tragglo cast a quick eye about.

"I.iddle rascals. They ain't 'ere, Dann, an' we never passed 'em on the way 'ere."

The young squirrel wiped rain from his eyes on a window curtain. "Let's think. I know! Maybe they're up on the walltop. Dibbuns are always being told not to go up there, so that's the likely place for them to be."

Sheeting rain swept the ramparts, dancing across the stones and gurgling noisily out of small downspouts, so heavy that visibility was virtually nil. Tragglo and Dannflor were running almost doubled up past the north battlements when a peal of thunder exploded with frightening; force directly overhead. In the crackle of chain lightning that followed the hedgehog pointed to the northeast gable end and the two small figures huddled there.

"Haharr, there they be!"

It was hard to imagine two more saturated and frightened little creatures. The molebabes wailed and threw themselves at their rescuers.

"Whhauhau! Us'n's be gurtly drownded, zurrs!"

Tragglo untied his stout canvas apron and placed it over the Dibbuns, then between them he and Dannflor picked them up and started down the east wallsteps, watching carefully where they trod as the steps were awash. Reaching the lawn, they skirted the rear of the Abbey, almost blown around the corner of the belltower by the increasing wind. Wugger and Blinny held tight to the canvas apron covering them as it ballooned and flapped. More thunder banged sharply overhead and lightning sheeted the scene, illuminating it momentarily in an eerie white flash.

Cregga and Sloey were waiting at the door, holding it open against the weather's onslaught, when the four of them rushed inside, breathless and bedraggled.

Sister Sloey gave Dannflor and Tragglo a towel apiece. "You found them! Thank goodness. Where were they?"

The hedgehog rubbed vigorously at his face. "Just where you'd expect the rogues t'be, Sister, top o' the bloomin' wall at the northeast corner, wetter'n water-weed an' yellin' to be saved from a drownin'. Anyways, they're safe now."

As the little group passed through the Great Hall more lightning flashed outside, throwing cascades of bright pattern from the colored stained glass onto the worn stone floor. A fire was burning in the Cavern Hole where all the Redwallers were gathered, towels flapping wetly about and steam rising from damp fur. Sister Sloey and Gurrbowl Cellarmole dried the two Dibbuns off, none too gently. Wugger's head shook from side to side as the Sister rubbed at it, scolding, "Time and time again you've been told not to go up on that walltop to play. So what were you both doing up there, eh? Speak up!"