Bella beckoned to them both. ‘Sit down, I have something to tell you. It was no long dead badger kin of mine that appeared in my dream, but one whom I knew well in the old days. Martin the Warrior, hero of Redwall and Chief Founder of this Abbey.’
Abbess Meriam’s usual composure deserted her. ‘Martin the great Mouse Warrior! He spoke to you?’
Bella closed her eyes, smiling happily. ‘Yes, I can see him now. His message was not only for me, but for all Redwallers. Listen now. I was sleeping here in my chair, some moons ago, when he appeared before me. Full armoured and carrying his great sword, Martin told me of my son, of how he would defeat the Warlord Sixclaw and lose his friend Skarlath the hawk. He said that Sunflash would come to this Abbey when the leaves turned brown and that I would live to see him. He made me feel happy; a great peace, such as I have never known, filled my heart. Then he gave me this message to pass on to you . . .’
The two mice sat entranced as Bella spoke.
‘Good creatures dwelling within these walls,
Be faithful, honest and true.
My spirit is near, when harm befalls,
I will comfort and counsel you.
Throughout all seasons, I will be here,
Fear neither evil, nor strife.
The Warrior protects all you hold dear,
To my Redwall comrades, long life!’
Soft morning sunlight flooded through the window, enveloping Bella in an aura of light, twinkling and sparkling off her ancient silver-furred form, clothing her in mysterious radiance.
Meriam’s voice was hushed with wonder. ‘Martin the Warrior is the spirit of peace and courage; our Abbey will remain safe for ever with him to guide us.’
Bella broke the spell, holding out her paws for assistance. ‘Come on, you two young uns, help me up. Only a light breakfast today, save your appetites until after they arrive when the noon is high.’
By mid-morning everything was ready. Bella and the Abbess had pronounced the preparations well done and perfectly in order. Redwall’s newest additions, Ole Hoffy the dormouse, with his grandmice, Young Hoffy and Brund, led the procession to the outer walltops. Banners and pennants fluttered in the breeze, flowers and vines were draped over the west and north-facing ramparts. Every Redwaller was scrubbed, brushed and wearing their festive finery. Sumin perched upon the northwest battlements, scouring path and woodland with his keen eyes, listening for any sound that would announce the arrival of visitors. A mood of gaiety prevailed; Dibbuns and young ones danced excitedly, their elders speculating eagerly.
‘How big and fierce is a Badger Lord supposed to be?’
‘Phwaw! Big as three of us stood atop of one another!’
‘Aye, they’m sayen ee carry a gurt warclub, hurr, et’d take foive o’ us’n’s to lift it, they’m callen et ee macer!’
‘Haha, if the Badger Lord’s that big he’ll take some feedin’!’
‘Hurr oi wager ee’ll eat more’n ten ’arebeasts cudd!’
Even Abbess Meriam’s customary serenity was strained. ‘Is it near midday, Barlom? I hope they’ll be here soon. Can you see any sign yet, Sumin, do you hear anything?’
The little molemaid Figgul tugged Meriam’s gown. ‘Oi gets scolded furr arskin’ too many questions, marm, moind ee owd badgermarm doan’t send ee off t’bed, hurr!’
Bella pursed her lips in mock censure of the Abbess. ‘She’s right, Meriam, one more word from you and it’s up the stairs and no feast! They’ll come when they come, and not before, isn’t that right, Friar Bunfold?’
‘Right y’are, Bella marm, y’know what I always say:
Apples is ripe when they’re ready,
When pears is ripe they’ll fall,
What must happen will happen,
Or it won’t happen at all!’
Heartwood glanced imploringly at the clear blue sky. ‘Huh, that’s a great comfort t’know an’ no mistake.’
‘Hist, there! Let me listen, quiet, everybeast!’ Sumin cupped a paw around his ear and, gripping the battlement gable with his tail, he leaned outward facing north. Silence fell over the Redwallers; every ear was strained into the southerly drifting breeze.
Myrtle the hogwife coughed, and everybeast turned to glare at her.
Then Sumin signalled wildly to Barlom. ‘Throw open the gates, it’s them, I hear ’em comin’!’
Leading the column, Skipperjo stepped out of the woodlands and onto the path, pointing with his javelin.
‘There’s the spire o’ Redwall yonder, mates. Let’s see if ’n we can make ’em ’ear us. D’ye all know “Home Returnin”?’
There was not a beast marching who had not heard or sung the famous old marching song before. They roared lustily:
‘See the smoke curl from the chimney,
An’ the mat beside the door,
On the path there stands the family,
Like you left ’em long before.
Home returning, home returning,
Seasons gone an’ young uns grown,
Home returning, home returning,
Back to those I call my own!
There the fire burns and the ale brews,
And the bread bakes soft an’ brown,
While my friends wait with the good news,
Bring my chair an’ sit me down.
Home returning, home returning,
Comes the warrior from the war,
Home returning, home returning,
Home to wander nevermore!’
Voices rising to their limit, they sang the last chorus over again, drawing out the last word with all their might.
Bella gripped Sumin’s paw like a vice. ‘Do you see my son? Where is Sunflash?’
The squirrel shook his head in admiration as he pointed. ‘I see him fine, marm! He strides out until they run to keep up with him, he stands out like an oak among ferns. Great seasons in the land! Now I know what a Badger Lord looks like!’
The Abbess, Sumin and Ole Hoffy stayed to assist Bella.
All the other Redwallers clattered down the wallstairs to the main threshold gate, where they stood on the path, waiting until Bella arrived, because it was her special day above all days. The Abbey dwellers raised a cheer as Bella stood out on the path, ready to lead them. She turned smiling.
‘Well, would you like to hear the warcry of a Badger Lord? When I give the signal, shout out the word Eeulalia, but make it loud and long. Ready, set, go!’
‘Eeulaliaaaaaa!’
Sunflash swung his mace in circles above his head and, drawing air into his cavernous chest, he bellowed back the badger warcry.
‘Eeulaliaaaaa!’
Foremole clapped paws over both ears. ‘Whurr, et sounden loik thunder afore ee storm! Lookit, yurr he’m a comen!’
Sunflash had caught sight of the silver badger leading the Redwallers along the path. He knew it could be only one creature, his mother, Bella. Passing the mace to Skipperjo, he ran the final distance, paws pounding the path like hammers, spurting dust up in a cloud, to the accompaniment of loud cheers from both groups.
He skidded to a halt and walked the last three paces slowly. There before him was the gentle old face he had seen in dreams. In the silence that followed, only two words were spoken.
‘Mother.’
‘Son.’
And that is how Sunflash the Mace, Lord of Salamandastron, came to Redwall Abbey and found his mother, Bella of Brockhall.
* * *
48
On that same hour of the next day, the feast was still in progress and showed no signs of slackening.
Bryony sat beneath her favourite old apple tree in the orchard with Barlom and Abbess Meriam. The Redwall Recorder had brought quill and parchment to document the mousemaid’s story. She told it frankly, leaving out no detail. Abbess Meriam sat in silence until the recital was at an end.
The calm kind eyes of Redwall’s Abbess met those of the mousemaid. ‘So, Bella and I were wrong, there was some good in Veil, even though it cost
him his life to show it. Can you accept my apologies, Bryony?’
The mousemaid kissed her Mother Abbess’s paw respectfully. ‘There is no need for your apology. Veil was bad, I know that now. Bella was right. Some creatures cannot help being the way they are. In all the time we knew him, Veil did not perform one act of kindness to any living creature. I have thought a great deal since he died and wondered if he would have saved me if he knew his father was really going to throw that javelin? I couldn’t help loving him, because that’s the way I am, but I know that the world is a better place without Veil or Swartt bringing death and misery to it.’
Meriam cast a knowing glance at Barlom before she replied, ‘You have grown, Bryony. Your courage and compassion were never in doubt, but you have returned to us wiser and more sensible, far more mature than I ever was at your age. What do you think, Barlom?’
The Recorder finished rolling his scrolls. ‘I think in the seasons to come Redwall will not lack a good Mother Abbess; that is, of course, marm, when you feel the need to pass on your title.’
Meriam placed a paw around Bryony’s shoulders. ‘I could think of no one better to be Mother of Redwall some day.’
Bryony could scarce believe what she was hearing. ‘Me – Abbess of Redwall?’
‘The same as Togget will be made Foremole when the time comes. You have both earned admiration and respect from many elders.’
Myrtle the hogwife trundled a fresh cart laden with hot scones, cheese and salad vegetables from the kitchens to the dining tables of Great Hall. Most of the feasters were resting, or playing with the young ones, but the die-hard core of trencherbeasts remained.
‘’Ain’t you lot finished yet?’ Myrtle groaned.
Rockleg smiled winningly at her. ‘Not as long as there’s such splendid food bein’ served!’
Myrtle sighed, then sat down with them. ‘Then I might as well join you; pass the mint tea please.’
Duddle Pollspike pushed it across obligingly. ‘Mint tea, there you are, my chubby-cheeked chaffwarbler. It almost makes me wish I was a landlubber, dinin’ in this wunnerful Abbey. What say you, my liddle larkspur?’
Tutty Pollspike looked up from a raspberry crumble. ‘Lands an’ lakes! ’Tis all very nice, but we’ve been water-beasts too long to change our ways now.’
Redfarl broke the crust of a pastie, letting the gravy spill out. ‘Wot about you, longshanks – thinkin’ of changin’ yore ways?’
Jodd cut himself a slice of fruitcake, a silly grin all over his face as he twisted his ears at Fleetrunn. ‘Whazzat? Oh, er, rather! I’d sooner be a square any time than a hirrel!’
Fleetrunn giggled. ‘Don’t you mean you’d sooner be a hare than a squirrel, you great duffer? Fancy bein’ called a squirrelhare, daft name!’
Jodd bolted the fruitcake reflectively. ‘Oh, I dunno really. I don’t mind daft names, as long as a chap has a good sensible real name. By the way, Fleetrunn, I never told you my real name, did I? Well, it’s actually Wilthurio Longbarrow Sackfirth Toxophola Fedlric . . .’
Outside on the sunlit lawns of Redwall Abbey the happy laughter of old and young alike rose to mingle with high larksong on the warm autumn afternoon.
* * *
Epilogue
The young hare Burrbob twitched his nose inquisitively at Rillbrook the Wanderer.
‘Is the tale finished? Oh, rats! I wanted it to go on an’ on an’ jolly well on f’rever!’
The old otter stood and stretched, balancing back on his rudderlike tail. ‘Well, young cheekychops, y’know wot they say. There’s bread an’ cheese upon the shelf, want another story, tell it y’self.’
The harewife brought out rosehip and daisy cordial and some plum and damson cake. Together with the group of leverets she had been listening spellbound to the story, only absenting herself occasionally to bring food. Placing the cake and cordial in front of the old otter, she questioned him, ‘What happened to Jodd and Fleetrunn? Did they marry?’
‘Aye, and stayed on at Redwall. Rockleg didn’t though, he came back to Salamandastron with Sunflash. But that was many seasons later, after old Bella had passed on to the Dark Forest. Sunflash would not leave the Abbey while his mother lived. She went peaceful and happy, long beyond her allotted seasons. They say no badger ever lived longer than Bella.’
‘And did Bryony ever become Abbess?’
‘Yes, she was in her middle seasons when Meriam retired and passed on the title to her. Togget became Foremole too. Now can I get on with this food, or are you goin’ to ask me questions until I goes blue in me ole face answering?’
‘Just one more thing. Is it true that Sunflash gave up being a warrior after he returned here? I have heard old ones say that he did.’
‘No, he was always ready to defend the coastline or make war on searats and such vermin. Though he loved growing things so much that he was only known to his enemies as the Mace. Here at Salamandastron he cultivated the slopes of this mountain the way they are now, fertile and beautiful. As the seasons passed he became an expert farmer and creatures travelled from far and wide to learn from his great wisdom. In time, he changed his warrior name from Sunflash to the more gentle Sunstripe. Also he was the first Badger Lord to write poetry, an unusual quality in anybeast who was ever possessed by the bloodwrath.
‘Here, come with me and I’ll show ye something.’
Followed by a curious group of leverets, the harewife and Rillbrook made their way up a rocky path bordering a terraced garden. The otter halted at a stone slab seat. ‘Watch now, I’ll show you something my father showed me, just as his father showed him . . .’
The cheeky Burrbob muttered under his breath, ‘An’ his father showed him, just as his Auntie Bangtail showed him an’ . . . Yowch!’
The harewife tweaked his ear warningly, and he fell silent as Rillbrook continued.
‘There’s not many seen this. My ancestors were showed it by an old Badger Lord who came after Sunflash. Here, watch now.’ The seat was made by two flat slabs placed one on top of the other. He lifted the top slab to reveal the bottom stone beautifully carved in fine badger script.
Here I often gaze out o’er the seas,
When winter snows have gone to spring so fair,
Alone, except for butterflies and bees,
Remembering the times we used to share.
Your spirit soars o’er places where I’d walk,
Not holding any friend on earth so true,
Upon my shoulder, good and faithful hawk,
O Skarlath, there was never one like you!
With heavy heart I sit alone in grief,
Lord of the mountain, ruling over all,
Wishing I could split a single leaf,
To bring you back again, with our old call.
The harewife traced her paw over the letters carved countless seasons ago, saying quietly, ‘A great and wise badger with many unusual qualities.’
The old otter leaned on his travelling staff, watching the young hares gathered around the stone reading the poem. ‘Aye, Salamandastron flourished under his rule. It would be good for these young uns to learn from one like Sunflash.’
Burrbob looked up from the carved seat. ‘There’s not been a jolly old Badger Lord here for absolute ages, sir – well, not in my lifetime there ain’t.’
Rillbrook put his paw around the young hare’s shoulder, smiling and shaking his head. ‘Great seasons, not in your lifetime? That must be a fair old span of dusty days!’
Burrbob looked hopefully up at the old storyteller. ‘D’you think a badger will ever come to Salamandastron again, sir?’
Rillbrook sat the young hare down upon the stone seat. ‘This mountain is never without a Badger Lord for too long. The warrior spirit seems to draw them here from afar. If you sit here for a short time each day and watch those shores below, some day you’ll see that badger come striding along. Grow up strong and honest, all of you, and serve that badger well. It is the duty of Salamandastron hares to do this.’
As he picked his way slowly down the mountainside the harewife called after him, ‘Wait on the shore below, I’ll bring you a haversack of food!’
Rillbrook waved his staff in acknowledgement.
Remembering their manners, Burrbob and the young hares scrambled to assist the old otter down the slope.
‘What ho, sir, lean on me!’
‘Where do you journey to now, sir?’
Rillbrook winked at the pretty leveret who had asked the question. ‘Why, to Redwall Abbey, where else? It will take me several seasons to haul my old carcass that far, but fate and friends have always been good to me. Never fear, I’ll make it by next autumn. It’s a pretty place to be at harvest time and the door is always open to friends. Maybe some day you’ll visit there. I’m sure they’d make you welcome.’
The young hares and the harewife stood on the beach, watching Rillbrook the Wanderer growing small as he trekked off east into the golden afternoon.
Burrbob raised his paw. ‘Let’s send the old un on his way with a good ol’ warcry.’
Throwing back their heads they roared out the time-honoured call of Salamandastron.
‘Eeulaliaaaaaaa!’
Outcast Of Redwall Page 31