Mariel hugged the ancient Herbalist. "Simeon, the sight of you is worth a thousand quests!"

"Aha! Is that my old friend Foremole?"

"Burr aye, zurr Mallen, tis oi.'appy as a buzzybee. See yurr, Bowly Pintipers, an' all ee shrews, well famishered an' willin' to eat, hurr, hurr!"

"Logalogalog, we be shrews an' sail in boats onna pond!"

The Guosim Chieftain chuckled as he was bowled over by a gang of Dibbuns. "Hohoho! Lookit you, y*great fat f mousebabe, I'm goin' to tickle you thin!"

"Yeeheeheehee! Stoppit! No, more! Yeeheeheehee!"

It took quite a while to get the greetings over and every-beast seated at the festive board. The Abbot was about to ring his bell when Sister Sage broke down weeping pit-eously. They gathered around to find the cause of her distress. The old Sister shook her head despairingly. "The rhyme, the rhyme, don't you remember?" Oak Tom's wife, Treerose, repeated the first lines: "Five will ride the Roaringburn, But only four will e'er return ..."

In the silence that followed, Oak Tom could be heard calling off the names of the questors.

"There's Rufe Brush, Durry Quill, Rosie Woodsorrel, and Foremole. Four came back!"

Sister Sage left her seat and threw herself sobbing upon the mousemaid. "Oh, Mariel, your poor father; what a good brave creature our Bellmaker was .,."

Saxtus looked stricken. ' 'No, not Joseph?''

Simeon provided the voice of reason amid the upset. "Silence, please. The rhyme said that only four would return. It never said anything about death. Mariel, tell us what happened to your father!"

Mariel looked gratefully at Simeon. "Thank you, friend. Now if I can get a word in edgeways, let me explain. Joseph the Bellmaker is far from dead; here is a letter he told me to deliver to Abbot Saxtus."

Unrolling the small scroll, Saxtus read aloud: 392.

"To my good friend the Father Abbot and all Red-wallers. The needs of Southsward are great, and I have decided to stay here to help rebuild their home. I am fashioning a beautiful bell to ring out over this land to honor those who died in the great Battle of Southsward and to remind me of my friends at Redwall.

I wager you are in the midst of a feast. I wish I were there with you. But as I am not, do not let me detain old friends from their enjoyment. Mariel, Dandin, and the crew of Pearl Queen will have plenty of time to relate the story, around a good fire on cold winter nights. Be happy, grow strong, take care of each other and your beautiful Abbey of Redwall. No doubt we will all meet again some day.

Each of you has a special place in my heart. Joseph the Bellmaker."

Mariel smiled fondly as she added, "He has been honored with the t.i.tles of King's Advisor, Honorary Commander to the Army of Southsward, and Lord Warden of Floret. But you know my dad; he wishes to be known only as Joseph the Bellmaker. Lift your beakers, friends. I give you a toast to my father, Joseph."

The very rafters rang as every Redwaller shouted aloud, "To the Bellmaker!"

As they drank, Saxtus finally got to ring the bell. "All talk and tales, both sad and happy, must wait until tomorrow. The hour grows late and we have a feast before us. Let full justice be done-but only after I have said the grace.

393 "Autumn comes, the summer's flown, Travelers' journey ends. Harvest is in, the table laid, Sit you down 'midst friends!"

And so they did, until dawn's light flooded through the ancient stained-gla.s.s windows. n.o.beast crept away to bed, not even Dibbuns. Good food, songs and poems, close comradeship and a few tears, all combined to welcome the return of the questors and honor the memory of Mother Mellus.

Father Abbot Saxtus blinked against the morning sunlight reflecting off his bell, mentally composing what he would write in his Abbey Record book. "One of Red-wall's great feasts, to be remembered for long seasons to come."

The mousebabe sat in Rufe Brush's lap, half awake as he nibbled a red-currant tart. Mariel was about to doze off in her chair when she noticed mousebabe watching her. ' 'What are you looking at, cheeky whiskers?'' she asked.

"I wanna be a warrior like you."

The mousemaid winked at him as she took a sip of mint tea. "Then you'll have to grow up honest and true to your friends-a warrior needs good companions to learn from. One day you may become a warrior, as great as the squirrel who is taking care of you right now. Isn't that right, Rufe?"

Rufe Brush smiled down at the Dibbun. "Aye, it's right enough, but first you'll have to get Durry Quill to teach you to roar like this."

Rufe threw back his head and roared.

394.

*'Grooooarrarranrrgh!"

Mousebabe leaped with fright, and Rufe stroked his tiny ears until he began to doze. The young squirrel talked to him in a low, gentle voice. "But that's only part of it. I had to learn many things, but I was lucky, I had the right teachers to guide me. The fighting spirit of Finnbarr Galedeep, the friendship of Durry Quill, and a brave Guo-sim shrew named Patch. Wisdom and strength are needed by a warrior, and I got them from Mariel's father, Joseph the Bellmaker."

Mousebabe repeated the final word before sleep overtook him.

"Bellmaker!"

Epilogue.

's tale took three days in the telling, three days in which the storm never once abated. Food and blankets were sent in to the gatehouse, and each night the two old friends and the Dibbuns slept there. On the fourth day they woke to find the sun beaming through the windows from a gentle blue sky. But the Dibbuns would not move until certain questions had been answered.

"Did our Abbey get another badger, sir?"

The ancient squirrel smiled and shook his head. "Ah, that's a story for another day."

The little mouse Jerril climbed down from the arm of the chair. "What 'appened to Mariel an' Dandin?" he asked.

The old hedgehog answered from the depths of his armchair. "They stopped at Redwall for a season, then one mornin* Dandin, Mariel, an' Bowly Pintips took the Peart Queen an* sailed out, to see what was over the horizon they said. I was goin' to go with 'era, but in the end I stayed home with my old matey 'ere."

395.

396.

The ba.s.s-voiced molebabe wiped a tear from his eye. "Ee sea h'otter, Finnenbarr Galeydeep, 'twere sad ee was slayed; oi would've loiked to 'ave met Mm."

The squirrel exchanged glances with the hedgehog. Rising slowly they went over to a cupboard. The squirrel talked as he rummaged among objects that he treasured. "Finnbarr Galedeep was a mighty warrior, maybe you'd like to see his swords."

He drew the pair of matched curving blades from the cupboard, pa.s.sing one to the hedgehog. A gasp of wonder arose from the Dibbuns as they stared openmouthed at the two shining weapons. The molebabe clambered into the armchair vacated by the hedgehog. "Whurr did ee get em frumm, zurr?"

The ancient squirrel straightened his back proudly. "Joseph the Bellmaker presented them to us when we left Southsward, a token of our bravery as warriors in the battle, he said they were. Right, Durry?"

Durry Quill whirled the blade he was holding above his head, and it glittered in the morning sunlight. "Aye, right Rufe, I'll never forget that day. I named this sword Finnbarr!"

Rufe Brush blinked back a tear as he stared at the name engraved upon the blade of his sword. "And I named mine Fatch!"

The Dibbuns poured out yelling into the spring morning. They roared and shouted as they fought again the Battle of Southsward. Rufe and Durry stood in the gatehouse doorway watching. The young mouse Jerril ran back to them for a final word.

"Did any of them ever come back to our Abbey?"

39?

Durry leaned on the doorframe and nodded. "Aye quite a few times, as I recall. Log-a-Log, Blaggut, even Joseph the Bellmaker and his three friends one summer Though Wincey, Benjy, an' Figgs was so big I scarce recognized 'em. But y'know what we always say?"

The molebabe came trundling past, stick in paw, serving as his sword as he fought off two small squirrels. "No, wot do ee allus say, zurr?"

Rufe answered for Durry. "We always say that Red- ^ wall is here to welcome any with a good heart. Call in,

our door is open to all friends."

The molebabe thought about this for a moment befbwfj replying, "Hurr, vurry good, zurrs, but ee know wot, allus say?"

Rufe smiled at him. "No, tell me what you The ba.s.s-voiced molebabe waved his stick in the and charged off shouting. "Red waaaaaaaaallllU!"

About the Author.

is first of all a storyteller. Born and bred in Liverpool, England, he has told his stories as a dramatist, comedian, folksinger, and radio-show host. But it is as the creator of the Redwall tales that he has gained international acclaim, entertaining and enchanting readers in Europe, the United States, and the Far East. He would tell you that story is the way of a good Scouse, as a Liverpudlian is known.

Brian began writing his Redwall tales for children at the Liverpool School for the Blind. Unbeknownst to him, a former teacher showed one of his ma.n.u.scripts to a publisher, who saw the genius in it. Thus began the Redwall series, which now includes Red-wait, Mossflower, Mattimeo, Mariel of Redwall, Sal-amandastron, and Martin the Warrior. Brian has also published a collection of short stories, Seven Strange and Ghostly Tales.

The response of American readers to the Redwall series has been unprecedented, and since the first of the books was published, Brian has visited cla.s.srooms and libraries across the United States. The real testament to his achievement is the loyalty and dedication his readers have shown toward his books, and their enthusiasm for the brave and courageous characters in them.