Outcast Of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  Heartwood smiled at the otters. ‘By ’okey, mates, it do smell good!’

  Blatt and Scrimmo were allowed to wield flat beechwood spreaders, covering the bottom layer until it was one thick smooth circle of dark red conserve. Then Togget and Bryony took their turn, layering the middle tier even more thickly with meadowcream. Heartwood and the Friar carefully placed the three circles together in their former positions, and coated the cake generously with the remainder of the meadowcream.

  The six cakemakers began decorating, working around the sides and top with a random pattern of hazelnut and almond flakes, sliced early strawberries and tiny young rose leaves crystallized in honey. The finished cake attracted great attention. Redwallers gathered round to admire and comment on the masterpiece that had been created in their kitchens.

  ‘It’s the very picture of a spring afternoon!’

  ‘Bo urr, et surpintly lukks wunnerful cool’n’ cream-loike!’

  ‘Yes, shame it has to be eaten, really.’

  ‘Hah! Y’mean ’twould be a shame not to eat it!’

  ‘Bet I could eat the lot, all on my own!’

  ‘Greedyguts, you’d be sick for two seasons!’

  ‘But it’d be well worth it for a cake like that!’

  ‘Hush now, here comes Mother Abbess!’

  All work in the kitchens stopped as Meriam Abbess of Redwall entered; never appearing to walk, she glided in like a swan crossing a still lake. Meriam was tall for a mouse, slender and of middle seasons, though her great wisdom and serenity would have done credit to one twice her age. Clad in a simple long robe of pale green belted by a soft white cord, paws folded into her wide sleeves, the Mother Abbess of Redwall radiated calm and respect to everybeast about her. A rare fleeting smile hovered about her hazel eyes as she viewed the confection, and said, ‘A truly beautiful cake, Friar Bunfold.’

  Bunfold bowed, his chubby face glowing with pleasure. ‘Thankee, marm, I had lots o’ good help t’make it.’

  A brief nod passed between Bryony and the Abbess, who said, ‘I would not doubt the truth of that, Friar. It might have spoiled in the oven whilst you were napping in the orchard, had it not been for the vigilance of Togget and our little flower Bryony.’

  The surprise on Bunfold’s face was forestalled as Meriam continued speaking, lowering the tone of her voice. ‘You are a good old Friar – a little rest each noontide is not begrudged you, Bunfold. Leave this now, I am sure your helpers can prepare the festive food well enough. I need the wise counsel of yourself and Heartwood. Please accompany me to the gatehouse, Barlom has a visitor waiting there.’

  Friar Bunfold swiftly untied his apron and hung it up, wiping face and paws on a clean towel as he issued orders to Togget. ‘Could you make up a tray and bring it to the gatehouse, my friend? Hot mint tea, a flagon of cold fruit cordial, some of those scones we baked this morning, oh, and a plate of the thin arrowroot and almond slices which the Abbess favours, there’s a good mole!’

  ‘Hurr that oi am, roight away, zurr Bunny!’

  Togget’s words were lost upon Bunfold; he and Heartwood were scurrying off in the wake of Abbess Meriam, who was gliding away from them rapidly.

  Barlom was self-appointed as Gatekeeper – the gatehouse was one of the few places he could carry out his Recorder’s duty in relative peace. A solid-looking squirrel named Sumin often dropped by to chat with him, and he was headed there that day on Barlom’s request, to discuss the strange visitor’s arrival.

  Sumin arrived with the Abbess and, in his stout, no-nonsense way, held open the door for her, nodding curtly. ‘Marm, ’tis a kestrel within your gatehouse, don’t be feared. I’m sure he means harm to nobeast.’

  The Abbess gestured for Sumin to enter. ‘Mayhap you should hear what this bird has to say. Please come in with us, my friend.’

  When Bunfold and Heartwood arrived they entered also, leaving the gatehouse door ajar. The fierce, handsome kestrel was perched on a chairback, watching all with keen golden eyes. As Meriam introduced herself and the others, the hawk watched them in silence, his head coming up sharply as a knock sounded on the door, followed by Togget’s voice.

  ‘Yurr’s drink’n’vittles furr ee goodbeasts insoid o’ thurr!’

  Heartwood took the tray and closed the door. The food was placed before the kestrel, who dipped his beak courteously, and said, ‘My name is Skarlath. I serve Sunflash the Mace, Lord of Salamandastron, a great warrior!’

  Meriam held her paws outward, a sign of peace. ‘You are welcome within our walls, Skarlath. Redwall Abbey is open to all goodbeasts who come seeking rest and food.’

  Hunching his wings, the kestrel leaned forward. ‘My thanks to you, Abbess, but I have time for neither food nor rest. I felt duty bound to bring news when I saw your Abbey. My Lord Sunflash has a great and merciless foe, Swartt Sixclaw the ferret Warlord. They are sworn enemies for many long seasons now.’

  Meriam poured herself a little mint tea. ‘We have heard often of Salamandastron – it is a place that stands for freedom and justice, protecting the far coast. Though you will forgive me for saying that we have no knowledge of Sunflash the Mace, or of this Swartt Sixclaw. What have they to do with us, Skarlath?’

  The kestrel opened one wing and pointed north. ‘Even as I speak, Swartt is coming this way with his great horde of vermin. Your Abbey lies in his path. I came to give you warning. Sixclaw is strong and evil, and, though he seeks Sunflash, I am certain that he will try to conquer Redwall if he sets eyes upon it.’

  Sumin was well experienced; he had spent many seasons ranging Mossflower country. He nodded in agreement with Skarlath. ‘You are right, friend, this is always the way with vermin, especially those who travel in great bands. But what would you have us do? Salamandastron is too far away to ally ourselves with your Lord.’

  Skarlath swooped from the chairback to the door. ‘If Swartt comes to Salamandastron, Sunflash is well able to deal with him. I do not know the strength of your warriors here, so I cannot suggest your course of action – I merely come to warn you of the danger. Now I must be gone; my Lord will want to know of the ferret’s movements. Seasons and fates be with you!’

  Without further ado, Skarlath unlatched the gatehouse door and soared off. The Abbey dwellers stood in the doorway, watching the hawk’s flight, south by west. When he had been swallowed up by the blue vault of the sky they went indoors to hold counsel.

  Abbess Meriam looked from one to the other. ‘Friends, this is serious news. Redwall appears to be in great danger. What do you think?’

  Barlom spoke up. ‘Where is this ferret Warlord and his horde? Skarlath didn’t say, exactly. One day away, two, maybe a week . . . or just a few hours, who knows?’

  ‘Then we must find out straight away.’ Heartwood’s voice held no hesitation. ‘I say we raise our own army and train them. Swartt won’t get Redwall without a fight.’

  Friar Bunfold stamped his footpaw angrily. ‘Aye, we’ll show the vermin a thing or two!’

  ‘Wait, not so fast,’ Sumin interrupted the irate Friar. ‘You talk as if Redwall were full of trained warriors and fighting beasts, but I doubt if any of us but Bella has ever seen a real vermin horde, or realize the damage and slaughter they could inflict upon Redwall!’

  Barlom thumped the tabletop, sending quill and parchments fluttering, then he banged the table once more for effect. ‘What’s to stop us training our own army? Better that than to sit about waiting for a Warlord’s horde to conquer us!’

  Meriam placed a restraining paw on her Recorder’s shoulder. ‘Shouting will get us nowhere, Barlom. I think we should hear more of what Sumin has to say.’

  The sturdy squirrel outlined a plan that had been forming in his mind. ‘What if this Swartt never gets as far as our Abbey, what if he has to take a different route to Salamandastron?’

  Heartwood looked mystified. ‘Why should he do that, mate?’ he shrugged. ‘You heard the hawk say Swartt was headed down the path towards us. Why should he change cours
e?’

  The Abbess placed a paw to her lips. ‘Sshh! Listen to Sumin and find out! Carry on, friend.’

  The squirrel outlined a bold and daring scheme. ‘Squirrel archers an’ otter slingthrowers, that’s what we need. I’ll bet me an’ Heartwood could raise a goodly band of ’em from around this part o’ Mossflower. Now, we take them north up the path an’ intercept the vermin, stayin’ on the east side of ’em all the time. Then we hit an’ run, all the while stayin’ out o’ sight, so Swartt doesn’t know what numbers he’s up against. A good squirrel archer or otter slinger who knows the lay o’ the land can make himself seem like six, workin’ undercover. We strike an’ hit an’ keep on strikin’ an’ hittin’, dodgin’ an’ hidin’ all the time! Make the ferret realize he can’t stay out on the path in the open, force him off into the woods on the west side so the vermin have t’take to the west shores an’ follow south lookin’ for Salamandastron. That way Swartt won’t use the road an’ he’ll never know the Abbey is here!’

  Barlom was quivering with eagerness. ‘You’re right, Sumin, I’m coming with you!’

  The strong squirrel shook his head decisively. ‘No, Barlom. I take only squirrels who can vanish into trees or otters who can fly underwater – an invisible army!’

  Bunfold bit his lip in disappointment. ‘Why can’t we go an’ strike a blow for Redwall an’ freedom? Me’n Barlom would make good warriors!’

  The Abbess placed her paws around both their shoulders. ‘Of course you would, that’s why you’ll be needed back here. If Sumin’s plan fails, I’ll need fighters on our walls to defend the Abbey. I’d like you and Barlom to be in command of Redwall should the need arise.’

  Bunfold tried to swell his chest, but only succeeded in puffing out his stomach. Barlom quivered slightly with pride, and busied himself rearranging his parchment and quills.

  ‘Nobeast in Redwall must know of Swartt and his horde,’ Abbess Meriam cautioned her friends. ‘What passed between us in this gatehouse remains secret. I will not have panic in my Abbey – most unseemly. We carry on with the feast this evening as planned.’

  Friar Bunfold noted the sad looks of Sumin and Heartwood. ‘Don’t worry, brothers, you won’t miss anything. When you return from defeatin’ the vermin I’ll make you both a special welcome-back victory feast with my own two paws!’

  * * *

  20

  That evening the Abbess stood up on the west battlements of the outer wall to watch the sunset. Bryony accompanied her; the two were special friends. Meriam turned from the evening sky and viewed her Abbey.

  ‘What are you thinking of, Mother Abbess? You look sad,’ said Bryony, tugging the wide, pale-green habit sleeve.

  The calm eyes blinked momentarily, slightly moist. ‘I was thinking of our long-gone heroes, little one, how they helped to build this beautiful place from rose-coloured sandstone. Your own great grandsire, Gonff the Mousethief, and his goodwife Columbine were part of it all. See the wonderful Abbey building beyond the gardens and lawns? It soars to the sky, oaken doors, stained glass windows and carved stone. Every room inside, from the wine cellars to the kitchens and larders, Cavern Hole where the Dibbuns play on winter nights, Great Hall where we go to feast this evening, the dormitories, sickbay, passages, stairs and corridors, all, all were built for us and otherbeasts who will come after.

  ‘Nothing must happen to this wonderful place – not to the pond, the orchards behind our main building, or even the gatehouse, set in the side of the main gate over which we stand on these ramparts. Look at this great wall, battlemented and constructed to keep out fear and famine. See how it stands open to the west flatlands, bordered by the great trees of Mossflower Wood on three sides. You and I and others to come will add to it. One day when these stones are old, Redwall shall have a belltower and a bell, libraries, tapestries and a schooling place. Is that not wonderful, Bryony?’

  The little mousemaid looked up into Meriam’s face. ‘Wonderful indeed, but you still look sad, Mother Abbess.’

  Meriam smiled one of her rare smiles. Taking Bryony’s paw, she led the way down the gatehouse steps. ‘Sad? Why should I be sad – we’re going to a feast together! What happier occasion than that, my pretty one?’

  The mousemaid laughed aloud then, for the great Mother Abbess of all Redwall Abbey did a most unlikely thing. Picking up the hem of her gown in one paw she skipped across the lawn with Bryony, the two of them giggling and chuckling like a pair of Dibbuns escaping on bath night.

  As they entered Great Hall a chorus greeted them; the young ones were impatient to get started.

  ‘Cut the cake, cut the cake,

  Cut the cake for goodness sake,

  Me an’ my mate have each got a plate,

  An’ here we have to sit an’ wait.

  So cut the cake, say the grace,

  Let’s get cream upon me face,

  An’ sticky paws as a slice I take,

  Oh cut that cake for goodness sake!’

  Gliding across to her big chair the Abbess put on a mock frown. Silence fell in the hall like a stone.

  Meriam waited until two small fat moles pulled her chair back so she could sit. Tucking paws into her sleeves she remained standing, gazing out across the foursquare set tables. Candle and lantern lights twinkled against spotless white linen, posies of buttercup, kingcup, daisy and apple blossom lay wreathed amid the festive fare. Bunfold’s great cake dominated all; it stood above the fresh loaves of wheat, oat and barleybread, goldenbrown crusts glowing. Cheeses lay sliced and quartered, coloured from deep yellow through to pale white. Woodland trifles, topped with honeycream, jostled for position among carrot flans, watershrimp and mushroom pasties, spring vegetable soup and the favourite of moles, deeper’n’ever turnip’n’tater’n’beetroot pie. Latticed fruit tarts sat alongside fruit pies and applecream puddings. To refresh the palate there was old cider, October Ale, cellar-cooled mint tea, fizzy strawberry cordial and dandelion burdock cup.

  And still all was silence as Abbess Meriam stared severely about her, repeating aloud the Redwall grace for the occasion.

  ‘This feast we’ve made to remember you,

  Who made our Abbey great,

  Comrades, stout of heart and true,

  Belov’d by valorous fate.

  Dinny, Gonff and Columbine,

  Good Martin and Abbess Germaine,

  I raise to you this glass of wine,

  And to others, too many to name,

  So join me friends, this toast I call.

  Redwall heroes one and all!’

  The last line was echoed by everybeast; a sip was taken from each drink. Still the silence held under Meriam’s stern gaze. Suddenly she winked and flashed a swift smile. ‘Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving!’

  Amid applause and roars of laughter she sat down. Then the feast of the Redwall Heroes was begun.

  Not half a league away, the night foliage of Mossflower rustled and a streambank came alive. By the light of a silver half-moon a hundred creatures readied their weapons. Heartwood turned to a huge brawny otter who had sprung from the water armed with javelin and sling. ‘Yore warriors ready, Skipperjo?’ he said.

  Rocks clacked in the big fellow’s slingpouch as he patted it. ‘Right as rain an’ fierce as thunder, matey!’

  Sumin patted the shoulder of a small but extremely fierce-looking female squirrel. ‘What d’ye say for your lot, Redfarl?’

  She licked the barbed tip of an arrow, grinning in anticipation. ‘Anything for Redwall an’ a chance of a vermin scrap. You point the way, bucko, we’ll be there before ya!’

  ‘I say, old thing, goin’ t’be a minor tussle, wot?’

  Sumin peered through the gloom and was surprised to see a lanky hare carrying an immense bow and a quiver of arrows bigger than any he had ever seen. The squirrel blinked in surprise, but Redfarl merely waved her bushy tail, saying, ‘He’s all right, we found him wandering lost a few seasons back. Best shot I’ve clapped eyes on, though hi
s arrers are like spears. Would y’believe, he wants to be a squirrel like us? Great fighter though, but sometimes I’ve got my doubts, he fights like ten an’ eats like twenty!’

  The hare was indeed a curious sight; his short bob tail was looped around with a cord which led up his back and was fastened to his ears. The normally taciturn Sumin hid a smile as he whispered to Redfarl, ‘What’s his name?’

  Redfarl shook her head. ‘You don’t want to know.’

  Sumin coughed to disguise a giggle. ‘Yes, I do.’

  The squirrel warrior smiled wryly. ‘Go on then, ask him.’

  Sumin pointed at the strange creature. ‘What’s your name, hare?’

  Bending his lanky legs the hare stooped and then shot up, landing in the lower branches of a stunted oak. ‘Got the species wrong, old thing. I’m a squirrel now, doncha know. Oh, don’t tell me, I’ve got the bally old body of a hare, but here, where it counts, in the head’n’the heart, I’m a blinkin’ great treewalloper, a squirrel!’

  Sumin tried not to look astounded. ‘I never asked your species, hare, er, squirrel, I asked your name! What is it?’

  The squirrelhare leapt to a higher branch, missed it and fell flat on the ground in front of Sumin. ‘You don’t want to know!’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I do!’

  ‘Oh, all right, then. M’name is Wilthurio Longbarrow Sackfirth Toxophola Fedlric Fritillary Wilfrand Hurdle-frame Longarrow Leawelt Pugnacio Cinnabar Hillwether . . .’

  ‘Stop, stop! You were right, I don’t want to know!’

  The squirrelhare twanged his bowstring musically. ‘But you can call me Jodd. D’you want to know what that’s short for?’

  Redfarl gave the creature an exasperated glare. ‘No, he doesn’t. Come on – let’s get goin’!’