She overbalanced and toppled back, screeching, into the moat.

The four otters rushed Serena along at a cracking pace. Truffen was seated on the st.u.r.dy shoulders of a young male called Trout lad. Muta brought up the rear; for all her seasons and girth, she was still nimble and swift. Tree shadows threw alternating patterns of sun and shade over the Southswarders as they fled up the thick-timbered hillside.

Nagru halted at the bottom of the causeway steps leading down from the castle plateau. His keen eyes picked up the movements of the small group racing up the wooded tor across the valley. A rat Captain named 32 .

Gatchag stuck his sword into the ground and sank down on his haunches beside the quivering weapon, shaking his head knowingly. "Huh, they're away like two brace o' woodpigeons. Nah! You won't catch 'em now. Take my word fer it!"

Swift as a flash, the Urgan Nagru grabbed Gatchag's sword and slew him with a single, powerful slash. The shock that ran through the rats was registered in a single moan, like a sudden gale running through long wheat. Nagru threw the blade down on the lifeless body.

"Anybeast got more strong opinions to voice can join him! Up on your paws, slopmouths, before I let daylight into some of your skulls! Mingol, take twelve and circle right. Riveneye, take another twelve and circle in from the left. The rest of you follow me. We'll go straight up after them. If we shift fast enough, they'll be cut off from three ways. In my horde, a slow rat is a dead one. Now move!"

Rab Streambattle and six of his otters watched anxiously as the fugitives toiled uphill. Rab's mate, Iris, fitted a stone to her sling. "Those rats are coming on fast, Rab. They're going to pincer in front of our lot before they get here-what'll we do?"

The otter leader loosed an arrow, picking off one of Mingol's front-runners. Laying another shaft on his bowstring he took aim and said, "We'll have to buy them some time by holding off the rats. Lay on and make every shot count!"

The otters attacked with a will. Arrows, slingstones, and short javelins whipped skillfully down the wooded slope to left and right, peppering the horderats and har- 33.

rying their pincer movement. Rab hurtled forward and reached the fugitives. He ran past them, calling out, "Keep going-there's help ahead, mates. Hurry! Nagru's right behind you. I'll keep him busy!"

Rab Streambattle was a warrior who did not know the meaning of fear. The most skilled weaponbeast among otters, now he showed his mettle. Planting both footpaws firmly, he threw off his quiver and with a speed born of desperation began zipping arrows into the ranks of Nagru's rats.

The Foxwolf was sorry he had not slain the fierce otter on first sight. Leaping to one side he dodged behind a scrub oak, leaving the rat immediately behind to die by the arrow that was meant for him. Another rat screamed and leaped high, transfixed by Rab's next shaft. Nagru cursed silently, wishing he had brought a bow and arrows along. Hailing his claws wildly, he shouted, "Idiots! Move about, duck and dodge, use your arrows and spears-he's only one otter!"

A deadly shot from Rab pinned a rat to a rowan tree. Grim faced, he called out as he strung another arrow, "Aye, I'm only one otter, but here I stand. Try an' pa.s.s, sc.u.m!"

Serena came gasping and stumbling into the outstretched paws of Iris. The otter embraced her briefly before going back to slinging rocks. "Serena, no time to chatter now. We must get you an' the liddle un to safety!" "But Gael... and Rab, what about them?" Keeping her eyes on the target, Iris bowled a rat over as her stone cracked his skull. "If your Squirrelking doesn't escape, there's nothin' we can do at the moment, 34.

maim. As for my Rab, you know he'd swap his life for friends-that's what he's doin' now. I've got to get you away, that's my job!"

A spear had furrowed Rab's side. He ignored the searing pain and dropped a rat with an accurate snap shot. Then he counted his remaining arrows. Three.

Using bush and tree cover, Nagru's rats were surrounding Rab. Without turning his head, the brave otter roared, "Get them out o' here, Iris. Go!"

Snuffling a tear aside, his courageous mate hustled Se-rena and her babe along with the otters. "You heard my Rab. Come on, move yourselves!"

They fled over the hilltop, zigzagging north through the trees. All but one.

A deep rumble shook Muta's huge frame; anger and hatred shone in the badger's dark eyes. With unbounded strength she seized the thick, overhanging limb of a dead whitebeam. Her sinews stood out like ropes as she tore it from the trunk with a resounding crack. Regardless of twigs and splinters, Muta swung the large limb above her head, and like a whirlwind she thundered forward, launching herself upon Nagru and his vermin. Keen as March wind through a stormlashed forest, a high-pitched whine tore from her throat. The wide, twigged end of the bough caught Nagru, sending him muzzle over tail, soaring high into the air like a dead leaf. The Foxwolf thudded painfully against a hornbeam, his shocked eyes taking in the destruction Muta was wreaking on his hordebeasts as he fought to regain his breath. Finally he managed to shout: "Kill them both! Mingol, Riveneye-surround them! Use arrows; cut them down with spears ... Anything!"

35.

Back to back, the otter and the badger stood, battering away madly, one with a broken bow, the other with a tree limb. Wounded in a dozen places, they fought like mad-beasts as the gray vermin closed in on them.

Extract from the writings ofSaxtus, Father Abbot of Red-wail Abbey in Mossflower Country.

It occurs to me that small bees are as foolish as they are fat and fuzzy. Take for example, this fellow. Humming and b.u.mbling around me as if I were a flower. Very disturbing when one is penning a chronicle. I think he wants this crumb of honey pudding, stuck to my whiskers. Here, take it, you rogue. No, the crumb, not my paw! Dearie me, are all bees as shortsighted as this one?

What a Recorder I am, playing with bees when I should be writing. Alas, the summer is to blame. It makes me want to dash outside and play with the Dib-buns (our Abbey young ones). It is they who hold the hope of Redwall's future; our Abbey would not flourish without the young. Many old friends have pa.s.sed on to quiet pastures: Abbot Bernard, Friar c.o.c.kleburr, Old Gabriel Quill, and a few other dear companions have 37.

38 .

run their seasons peacefully to a close. But the earth and its creatures continue lo be renewed. Please forgive my ramblings and reminiscences under the spell of a warm summer. Let me tell you what has taken place of late at Redwall Abbey.

It all started as I was strolling in the orchard with Mariel's father, Joseph the Bellmaker. We were enjoying the early morning peace together. Joseph told me that he had been thinking about Mariel a lot and worrying about her. More than four seasons have pa.s.sed since she went off adventuring with that rogue Dan din, a friend of my young days. He is a wild mouse, but with a good heart. Mariel and Dandin are kindred spirits, both with a yearning to wander.

Joseph's main worry was the lack of information about his daughter. He had received no news of Mariel from anywhere. Travelers, visitors to Redwall, pa.s.sing birds-no creature knew their whereabouts, or had heard anything at all concerning Mariel or Dandin.

However, honest ones with troubled minds are often rea.s.sured by the appearance of Martin the Warrior in their dreams. Martin is the champion and founder of Redwall Abbey, a great warrior mouse who lived countless seasons ago. His guidance is peerless, and his words, though often shrouded in mystery, always carry a message of hope and truth. Little wonder then that a stout-hearted beast like Joseph the Bellmaker should find Martin, the spirit of Redwall, appearing in his dreams. I must confess that I was full of curiosity to learn of the message Martin had imparted to Joseph as his mind wandered the realms of slumber. But my good 39.

friend the Bellmaker was not ready to speak. He had not yet understood the meaning of Martin's words.

A single loud knock on the gatehouse door disturbed Sax-tus from his writing. Without looking up, he called out, "I recognize that sound; only Joseph the Bellmaker has a paw like an oak club!"

There followed a deep chuckle from outside as Joseph replied, "Saxtus, have you dozed off in there? Come on, dinnertime!"

Hitching up his robe, the Abbot hastened to open the door. ' 'Good afternoon, Bellmaker, or is it early evening? No matter. I cast aside the pen in favor of the spoon."

Joseph was a strongly built mouse, with a neat gray beard and a cheerful manner. He patted the Abbot's stomach playfully. "Aye, I think the spoon is your favorite weapon these days, great Father Abbot."

Saxtus strode out ahead of the Bellmaker, to show him that a bit of extra weight had not slowed him down. "Hah! 'Great Father Abbot,' indeed! I'm only slightly older than your daughter. As for you, graybeard, you're old enough to be my father!"

Joseph matched his stride, eyes twinkling mischievously. Walking across flower-bordered lawns, they headed toward the main Abbey building. It loomed ma.s.sive against an early-evening sky, ancient red sandstone tinged dusky rose, framing a harlequinade of stained-gla.s.s windows by the glow of a lowering sun. stepped up his pace, leaving Saxtus panting in his wake.

"I may be old enough to be your daddy, but I'm still spry enough to be your son. Come on, Father, keep up!"

"Enough, enough. Slow down, ageless one!" said Sax- 4o .

tus, catching hold of his friend's sleeve. "Why is it that everybeast seems to be in a hurry today? Look, there's Foremole, going as if his tail were afire. Hallo, sir!"

The Redwall mole leader halted and, tugging his snout respectfully, he addressed them both in quaint mole dialect: ' 'Gudd eve to ee, zurrs. Whurr be you uns a-rushen to?"

He fell in step with them as Joseph replied, "We weren't really rushing, just stepping out a bit on our way across to dinner."

"We'm gotten guestbeasts furr dinner," said Foremole, wrinkling his b.u.t.ton nose sagely. "Oak Tom an' Treerose c.u.mmed in from ee woodlands."

Saxtus raised his eyebrows. "Well, that is a pleasant surprise. We don't see enough of Tom and his wife at Redwall. Those squirrels spend most of their time in Mossflower Wood together. Never know where they are from one season to the next. Any other guests?"

"Hurrhurrurr!" Foremole's dumpy frame shook with a deep chuckle. "Oi'd say ee best step out fast agin, zurrs. Missus Rosie an' Tarquin, they'm bringed all thurr h'infants to ee Abbey furr to stay awhoil."

Saxtus threw up his paws in mock despair. ' 'Great seasons of famine! Tarquin and Rosie Woodsorrel with their twelve young hares, that's fourteen walking stomachs altogether. They'll eat us out of house and home, then pick their teeth with the doornails!"

"I don't mind not eating," said Joseph, clapping the Abbot on his back happily. "My dream is beginning to work out."

Saxtus halted beneath a drooping lilac. "What do you mean by that, friend?"

41 "I can tell you this much," the Bellmaker said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Martin said some things to me in my dream last night of which I can only speak later on. But the first words he spoke I will repeat now. They went like this: With sixteen more faces at table, Bellmaker recalls his quest. At daylight's last gleam you'll remember My words whilst you were at rest."

Foremole scratched his velvety head saying, "Wot do et all mean, zurr?"

Joseph shrugged, but Saxtus nodded wisely. "It means that Martin will reveal all when the time is right."

Joseph continued walking to the Abbey. "I'm glad you said that, Saxtus," he said, "because beyond those few words the whole thing is very hazy. I can't remember anything else Martin said."

The Father Abbot deliberately steered the conversation away from his friend's dream, knowing that, if Martin had spoken, all would be revealed in good time. He held up a paw. "Listen, Joseph. I love to hear the sound of your bell!"

Scented orchard blossom fragrance lay heavy on the summer evening air as the great Joseph Bell boomed out its warm, brazen message. Calling all Redwallers to cease their ch.o.r.es and come to Great Hall, for the day's main meal.

A group of Dibbuns-small mice, moles, squirrels, and hedgehogs-trooped round the south gable from the orchard. Singing l.u.s.tily, they marched paw in paw.

42 .

"Give us dinner every eve, Or we'll pack our bags and leave. Where we'll go to we don't know, Up the path a league or so. If we don't find comfort there, Back to Redwall we'll repair. We'll eat pudden, pie, and cake, All the Abbey cooks can make!"

They stopped to let their elders pa.s.s indoors first. Bowing politely and scrubbing paws across strawberry-stained faces, they chanted dutifully: "Good evenin', Father Abbot. Evenin', Joseph, sir, evenin' to you, Foremole, sir!"

Saxtus raised his eyebrows. Peering at them over the spectacles balanced on his nose, he said, "Well, good evening to you, young sirs and ladies. Pray tell me, where are you all off to?''

Scrubbing furiously at her face, a little molemaid replied, "Whoi, furr ee dinner, zurr. Us'n's worked 'ard all day."

Joseph surveyed the guilty-looking band. Pursing his lips in mock severity, he said, "Hmm, guarding the strawberry patch against robbers, no doubt. A very difficult job, I'd say, eh?"

A tiny mousebabe, covered from ear to tail with strawberry pulp and seeds, puffed out his chest and squeaked, "Most 'ardest job I doo'd in all me life, sir!"

Foremole prodded the babe's swollen stomach gently. "Burr, you'm sure ee can manage dinner arter all yon 'ard wurk ee dunn?"

An equally small mole patted the mousebabe heartily. "Ho aye, ee surpintly can, zurr. Ee be a growen choild 43.

an' needen lots o' dinner, doant ee, matey?"

The mousebabe nodded vigorous agreement. Saxtus looked to Foremole and Joseph, giving them a quick wink. "What do you think, sirs? Do these warriors deserve dinner as a reward for guarding our strawberries?"

Foremole scratched his chin with a hefty digging claw. "Aye, oi do berleev they'm do, zurr, tho' they'm lukk in need o' a good scrubben furrst, hurr hurr!"

"Oh yes, we can't have em sitting at table like that," the Bellmaker agreed judiciously. "All stained and scarred from their long, hard duties. Right, line up here, all down to the shallow edge of the Abbey pond. First one back and cleanest washed gets the biggest dinner. Ready, get set... Go!"

"Redwaaaaall! Chaaaaaarge!" The Dibbuns sped off helter-skelter. Shaking with laughter, the three friends strode in to dinner.

From time out of mind Redwall Abbey had been renowned as a haven of comradeship, good manners, and legendary food. All Redwallers met each evening to share the fruits of their toil. Saxtus entered the Great Hall, warm in the feeling of being Father Abbot to the creatures of his beloved Abbey. Early-evening sunlight slanted down through the stained-gla.s.s windows, casting rainbow hues over the laden tables. Young and old alike sat together, the hum of their chatter rising to hallowed timber roof-beams. Garlands of rose, st.i.tchwort, sorrel, violet, and anemone decked the inner table borders. Duty cooks and servers bustled about on the outer perimeters, pushing trolleys and carrying trays heaped with culinary delights. Hungry onlookers commented eagerly upon the delightful 44.

fare. The two hares, Tarquin L. Woodsorrel and his wife, the Hon Rosie, together with their twelve leverets, wiggled their ears in delight.

"I say, I say, jolly old meadowcream pudden, wot?"

"Just lookit those b.u.t.ton mushrooms fallin' out o' that leek an' onion pastie, m'dear. Absolutely spiffin'!"

Hon Rosie was known for her strident laugh, which it was said could curdle cream at great distances. "Whoo-hahahooh! Woodland salad an' yellow nutcheese with Abbey dressing, top hole! They must've known we were comin', Tarkers, wot?"

Foremole took his seat, nudging a molefriend. "Yurr, be that turnip'n'tater'n'beetroot deeper'n'ever pie oi sees, Rungle?"

"Ho aye, that et be, zurr, wF damsoncream pudden t'foller," said the other mole, as he polished a small wooden ladle eagerly. "Boi 'okey, if'n moi mouth waters much more oi'm afeared oi'll be drownded, hurr!"

Blind Simeon, the ancient mouse Herbalist, and old Mother Mellus, the matriarch badger of Redwall, sat on either side of Saxtus. The Bel I maker was seated next to Mellus-all four were close friends. Joseph leaned toward the badger as two hedgehogs pa.s.sed bearing a tray piled high with freshly baked scones.

"What a delightful aroma, Mellus. Honey and blackberry scones, with maple icing, too. Splendid!"

A smile hovered about the badger's silver muzzle. "You're naught but a flattering fraud, Joseph. You knew I baked them specially for you. They do smell nice, though."

"Those scones will taste twice as good as they smell," said Saxtus, unfolding his table napkin.

45.

The old badger smiled graciously. "How gallant. Thank you, Father Abbot!"

"How is it that I'm naught but a flattering fraud and Saxtus gets thanked for his gallantry?" grumbled the Bellmaker, as he attacked a salad busily.

Mellus ladled fragrant dark gravy over a carrot and scallion pastie and placed it in front of Joseph. "Compliments are like clouds, my friend: very pretty, but if we had to dine on them we'd starve. Eat and be thankful."

Looking rather guilty, Saxtus stayed the Bellmaker's paw. "Oops. Forgot to say grace. 'Scuse me, please!"

He rang a small bell, specially made for the table by Joseph. All chatter ceased; silence fell over Great Hall. The Father Abbot arose, solemn faced. He was about to speak when the newly washed orchard guard clattered in through the doorway. With a frown and a paw to her lips, Mellus beckoned them silently to her. They tip-pawed across, Saxtus holding his silence as the badger whispered, ' 'Late for dinner, my little Dibbuns?''

A mousebabe piped up indignantly. "Nona our fault; we was sended for a wash after us worked 'ard inna orchard all day long!"

The Dibbuns nodded in unison, backing up their spokesmouse. Mellus's huge paws scooped two of them onto her lap. "Now sit quietly the rest of you; not a word until Father Abbot has said grace."

She nodded to Saxtus, who coughed importantly and began: "Fate and seasons smile on all, From sunrise to the dark nightfall, This bounty from both earth and tree, 46 .

Was made to share, twixt you and me.

To Mother Nature let us say, Our thanks, for life and health this day."

There was a mighty Amen. The little bell sounded, and dinner commenced in earnest.

It was a joyous meal for honest creatures. Dishes were pa.s.sed to be shared, both sweet and savory. October ale and strawberry cordial, tarts, pies, flans, and puddings, served out and replaced by fresh delights from Redwall's kitchens. Turnovers, trifles, breads, fondants, salads, pasties, and cheeses alternated with beakers of greensap milk, mint tea, rosehip cup and elderberry wine. Rufe Brush, the Abbey Bellringer, shared a heavy fruitcake with his friend Durry Quill, hedgehog Cellarkeeper and nephew of the late good old Gabe Quill, from whom he had inherited his duties.

The Abbot watched Joseph leaning back in his chair. "What is it, Bellmaker?" he said. "Not hungry?"

"Saxtus, when will my dreams be revealed?"

"Eat first; talk later. It will happen in good time. Is that a hot scone I see lying on your plate?"

Joseph turned too late; the scone was claimed by the mousebabe sitting on Mellus's lap. Joseph blinked. "You little scallywag! I suppose you'd like to guard the kitchen baking ovens tomorrow as a change from the strawberry patch."

The mousebabe shook his head and winked furtively. "No, but we guard the win'owsill, where cakes an' pies be," he said.