The Bellmaker

Book One: The Dream

It is said that in the hungry land of ice and snow from whence he came the beast was known and feared by the names he had taken. Fox wolf! The Urgan Nagru!

He and his mate, Silvamord, commanded a vast horde of savage gray rats. They ravaged the northlands unopposedtundra, forest, and mountain lay under the claws of Nagru and his vixen. But the Foxwolf knew there was one enemy he could never defeat, one foe more ruthless than any living thing. Winter!

Snow, ice, howling blizzards, and famine were the real rulers of the country he had despoiled, a bone-chilling starkness that conquered all. Nagru and Silvamord were forced to yield, realizing that starvation and death stalked the country they had stripped bare. So it was that Nagru took Silvamord and all the horde in three great ships to search for the sun.

Those were the dangerous seasons. Battered across dark, roaring seas they went, narrowly dodging huge floating ice mountains, the ships sails and riggings frozen stiff with rimy spray. Sometimes they lay becalmed in ghostly latitudes, wreathed in spectral mists with the waters beneath them still and fathomless. Completely lost, the Foxwolf plowed onward, driven across trackless wastes where no vessels bow had ever cut spray, avoiding leviathans of the deep and shoals of unnamed sea-beasts. Strange, hostile waters closed over their wake as the weary convoy sailed deeper into the unknown.

Then one morning the lookouts saw that the seas were gentler. Small fish swam playfully alongside the wave-scoured hulls, and the weather turned fair. Gazing upward, the eyes of Foxwolf beheld fleecy white clouds with sun peeping between them. Looking out to the horizon, he saw the thin green-brown line of land. The Foxwolf threw back his head and howled triumphantly.

He had defeated the wide, wintry seas. Silvamord joined him on deck, and together they bayed their defiance at the blue spring sky. Roaring and screeching, the gray rat horde thronged decks and rigging to cheer their leaders. It was a curious sight: three big, battered ships, swarming with thin, wild-eyed creatures, tattered sails flapping above creaking decks as they rode the ingoing swell toward shore. And so it was that Urgan Nagru came to the far south!

The land lay like a dream out of time under the spell of early spring. Southsward! A soft, peaceful region of plenty that had never felt the cruel breath of war. Stowing the three ships up a heavily wooded creek, Nagru waded ashore with Silvamord and their ragged, murderous followers. Lean from hunger and privation, eager for loot and conquest, they pressed hurriedly inland. The time of the Foxwolf had come to Southsward!

From his vantage point on a wooded hilltop, Rab Stream-battle gazed across the valley to Castle Floret. The otter had watched and planned almost every day as spring passed into summer. Castle Floret stood atop a high flat plateau, its north side abutting the sheer cliff face. The castles other three sides were surrounded by a crescent-shaped moat. A mighty drawbridge commanded almost a third of the front south side, and at this edge the plateau had a long flight of broad steps carved into the living rock from top to valley floor.

Rab stared sadly at his old home. It resembled a beautiful forgotten cake left standing on the green-clothed tableland. Against a sky of dusty blue, cream-colored towers shimmered beneath quaint, circular red-tiled roof-caps. Dark green ivy and golden saxifrage flourished amid the crenellations. Campion and climbing roses burgeoned carelessly over windowsills and framed doors. The hot afternoon did not contribute the slightest breeze to ruffle the variegated pennants draped idly around tall flagpoles.

Rab dismissed the dreamlike qualities of his old home, riveting his worried brown eyes on the window alongside the drawbridge top. Had something gone wrong? Did Nagru know of the escape that had been planned? His friends, Gael Squirrelking, Queen Serena, and little Truf-fen, had they received the message from Relph the blackbird? The otter clutched his bow tightly, staring at the window, awaiting the signal as thoughts raced through his troubled mind.

Why, oh why, had Gael not listened to him? Rab recalled the day he had first argued with his friend. The quarrel had become furious and bitter and had ended with Gael ordering his old friend either to curb his tongue or leave the castle. Stone-faced, Rab stalked angrily out of Floret, taking the entire otter castle guard with himnot because he feared Nagru, but because he could see the evil that Gael was blind to.

Rab hated and loathed the cunning Foxwolf with an intensity that banished all fear. Now his friend the Squir-relking and his family were prisoners in their own home. The wickedness of Nagru was a specter that would soon blight the whole of Southsward. Gael should have heeded the warnings Rab had issued, but instead he chose to play the king and offer the Foxwolf hospitality.

Suddenly, Rabs eye caught a flutter of iridescent blue-black wings carrying a scrap of red cloth to the window by the drawbridge.

Rab Streambattle notched an arrow to his bowstring.

The escape was on!

The sun hung like a hot merciless eye, watching two small creatures huddled in the shade of a shale outcrop on die wasteland floor. The mousemaid Mariel of Redwall shook an empty flask over the outstretched tongue of her friend Dandin. Two single drops fell slowly, then no more.

“Put your tongue away, she said, sadly. “The sun will think were mocking him.

The young mouse nodded skyward as he withdrew his parched tongue. “Huh, hes been mocking us for the last week.

They both sat staring at the empty flask. Mariel gently kicked her slack haversack. “Two stale oatcakes in there. Dyou fancy one?

Dandin smiled ruefully. “No thanks. Theyre the two you said youd keep as a memento of Redwall Abbey. Its four seasons since we left thereId break every tooth in my head trying to chomp on them. Besides, Im too dry to eat. Whew, its too hot even to talk!

Mariel closed her eyes, settling back into the shade. “Sleep then; well carry on tonight when it gets cooler.

Dandin lay down clasping his paws behind his head and called out to the sun, “Did you hear that? Were going to sleep, turn the heat down a bit, will you!

Mariel opened one eye. “Get to sleep, thirstygut, she said.

Dandin closed his eyes. There was a moments silence, then he began talking aloud to himself. “Itll be teatime back at the Abbey now. I bet I know what theyll be having, too. Cold strawberry cordial from deep in the cellars, October ale, dark and cool in foaming tankards. Probly mint tea as well, icy cold, brewed since dawn, clear and fragrant, just right for sipping on a hot day like ...Yowch!

Mariel brandished the haversack over her friend. “One more word and Ill let you have it again!

“Cant hear you, old mouseypaws, Dandin said as he flopped against her, rolling his eyes comically. “Youve knocked me senseless with those two oatcakes in there.

“Good. Perhaps youll be quiet now.

“Quiet? I havent said a single word!

“Right, then Ill say a single word. Goodnight!

“Dont you mean good afternoon?

“I mean goodnight, or Ill brain you with this haversack!

“Oh, righto. Goodnight!

Mariel woke in darkness. Warned by her warrior instinct, she lay motionless. Somebeast was trying gradually to sneak the haversack out from under her head. It was not Dandinshe could hear his snores drifting gently up to the canopy of the star-strewn night. As the final corner of their supply bag eased slowly away, she sprang into action. Slamming a footpaw hard on the haversack, she prevented the thief from making off with it. In the dim light, Mariel could make out a small, fat figure scurrying off into the wasteland. Snatching one of the two ancient oatcakes from the bag, the mousemaid hefted it like a discus, yelling as she flung it.

“Redwaaaaallll!

Thonk!

It struck edge on, right between the robbers ears. He dropped in a heap. Dandin leaped up, still half asleep, his paws waving.

“More October ale there! Wha ... Who ... Mariel!

As she ran toward the felon, the mousemaid was yelling, “I knew those oatcakesd come in usefulgot the blaggard!

Dandin followed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. When he arrived upon the scene, Mariel was kneeling crestfallen over her quarry. “Oh dear, whatve I done? she wailed. “Hes only a little un!

It was a small hedgehog. Dandin stooped to feel the big bump in the center of its head.

“Middle of the night, running target, great shot Id say.

Mariel turned on him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Dandin, how could you say that. Id never have thrown at such a little feller intentionally. But it all happened so quickly, I couldnt see who it was.

Dandin picked up the oatcake and chuckled. “Not to worrylook, the little rogues coming around fine. Haha, this is a true Redwall missile. See, theres not even a mark on it!

The small hedgehog sat up slowly, gingerly pawing his head. He blinked at them and said, “Ooh! Where be I? Wot appened?

Before Mariel could answer, Dandin chipped in, “You tripped and bumped your head, old lad.

Glaring at Dandin, the little beast bristled. “Me name dont be oF lad. I be Bowly Pintips, an Ill thank ee to address I proper!

Dandin adopted a look of mock fear and bowed respectfully. “Accept my humble apologies, Your Royal Bowlyness!

Bowly snatched the oatcake and brandished it. “See this ere rock as I tripped over? Well, you make sport o me, an Ill biff ye with it! Wots yore names? Speak up now afore I loses me temper with ye both!

The hedgehogs impudence caused Mariels mood of pity to vanish instantly. She grabbed Bowly firmly by his nose, pulling him up on tippaw, and said, “Listen to me, you cheeky little robber. Im Mariel of Redwall and this is Dandin. Were both warriors. So keep a civil tongue in your head, or well give you two more lumps to go on top of the one youve already got!

Tears streamed from Bowlys eyes as his nose was squeezed. “Yowow! Leggo ob be doze, yore hurtig bee!

Mariel released him and he groveled in the sand, rubbing at both bump and snout. The mousemaid nodded as she sat by him.

“Thats better. Now, whats a little snippet like you doing out in the wastelands all alone? Wheres your mum n dad?

Bowly shrugged glumly. “Never ad none as I cd remember. Two weasels ad me catchered south of ere, made me slave for em, tied me to a post at nights, but I scaped an mimed away.

Dandins friendly face grew grim. “How far south are these two weasels, Bowly? he asked.

“About arf a nights march from ere. I only scaped just afore dark, Mister Dandy.

“My names Dandin, not Mister Dandy, said Dandin, pawing the long dagger at his belt. “These two weasels, have they got food and drink?

“O aye, they got vittles aplenty. Robs travelers, they do.

Mariel had retrieved the haversack. She knotted the carrying ropes together, exchanging a slow smile with Dandin. “Lets go and pay these two weasels a visit, she said.

The sand and shale were still warm from the days heat, but the night air was cool as the three creatures strode south. Bowly Pintips giggled aloud when Dandin explained their plan to him.

Spurge and Agric the weasel slavers sat by their fire as dawns rosy paws probed the eastern horizon. They were trying to brew a pan of mint tea, and making a total mess of it. At the side of the fire lay a stack of raw apple pancakes. Spurge burned his paw on the pan handle and danced about waving it. “Rot me ears,ow does that Hddle spikedog brew this stuff?

Agric prodded the pancakes with a wicked-looking willow cane. “Search me, he said. “Huh! I aint sure ow tcook these pancakes the rascal made las night. Rotten liddle pincushion, well track im down; he cant go far without water in the wastelands. Waitll I lay claws on im. Ill make that runaway weep fer a season or more! He swished the cane through the air, grinning crookedly in anticipation of giving Bowly a severe whipping.

“Mornin, sirs. Sorry I runned off liken that las night!

Spurges jaw dropped. There was Bowly, ambling around the big shale rock that marked their camp. Quivering with rage, Agric pointed with the cane to a wooden post driven into the ground with a heavy shackling rope attached to it.

“Yew liddle scum, Im goin to bind you t that post an lash the prickles offa yore hide. Cummere!

Spurge knocked the cane aside. “After brekkfist, matey. We want im fit t cook our vittles first. Get to it, yew lazy lump!

Obediently, Bowly stirred crushed mint leaves into the bubbling water, setting the pancakes on a thin shale slab which he balanced over the fires edge. As he worked, Mariel strolled into the camp, smiling foolishly. She waved a paw at the two weasels.

“Morning! Lovely day, isnt it? Any breakfast going spare for a hungry traveler?

Spurge and Agric could not believe their luck. Not only had the runaway surrendered, but they had suddenly got themselves a simpleton mousemaid traveling alone. It surely was turning out to be a nice day.

“Wot ygot in there, mousey? said Spurge, eyeing the haversack their new arrival was carrying.

Mariel winked and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, a bit of this V that, yknow.

The weasels went into a huddle, sniggering and whispering. After a while Agric turned to Mariel saying, “If yew wants to eat you gotta elp, see. Theres fresh fruit an water in that holler under the rock. Yew elp that lazy edgepig to ready the vittles, then well see yew gets somethin nice, wont we, matey?

Spurge gave a malicious chuckle. “Ho yerss, itll be a real surprise!

The food stock was good. Mariel busied herself preparing a fruit salad of strawberries, apples, plums, and pears. Pouring honey and water into a gourd, she crushed damsons in it and began shaking up a cordial. The weasels sat in the shade of the rock as the morning sun got up. They nudged each other, sniggering with ill-concealed mirth. Mariel winked at Bowly as she called out,

“Mornings risen and breakfasts here, Eat, my friends, and be of good cheer!

Flipping his long dagger from paw to paw, Dandin strode boldly into the camp, kicking the weasels foot-paws out of his way, instead of stepping over them.

“Well, well, Mariel the Gullwhacker, am I invited to eat?

Mariel gave a roar of laughter quite inappropriate for a simple traveling mousemaid. “Hoho! Dandin, you old warrior, welcome!

Mariel and Bowly laid the food down on the ground.

Dandin sat down between the two astonished weasels, calling out to Bowly, “Come on, little un, grab a plate and spoonjoin us.

Bowly obeyed with a will, helping himself to a hot apple pancake and a cooling beaker of damson cordial. As the weasels reached out for food, Dandin dealt them a couple of sharp slaps with the flat of his dagger blade and clucked disapprovingly at them. “Teh, tch! Wheres your manners? Guests and young uns first. Ill tell you when its your rum.

By this time, the two weasels were looking distinctly uneasy. A lone mousemaid was one thing, but this Dandin looked like a seasoned warrior.

Mariel, Dandin, and Bowly ate heartily, letting the mint tea cool as they sipped damson cordial and treated themselves to hot apple pancakes and fruit salad.

“Youd have to be a robber and travel wide to get stuff like this, eh, young un? Dandin said cheerfully to Bowly.

Bowly nodded sagely. “Aye, that ywould, Sir Dandy.

“Robbers must have to be good cooks. What dyou say, Bowly? said Mariel, sipping some mint tea appreciatively.

“No, marm, some robbers is slavers too. They catchers a liddle slave an makes im do all the work. Robbers is awful creaturesthey beats their slaves an ties em up nights to a post wi a big eavy rope, like thatn yonder.

The weasels were very nervous now. Dandin caught their attention as he slit a pancake neatly in half with the keen edge of his dagger. His voice was low and dangerous as he said, “I dont suppose honest creatures like you would know of two such slavers, would you?

Agric developed a sudden stammer. “N ... n ... no S ... sir! he squawked, his throat bobbing nervously.

Bowly gurgled, spraying mint tea as he tried to suppress an attack of the giggles. The weasels were robbers and bullies, but when faced with the two warriors they were cowards.

Dandin stared hard at the trembling slavers and, picking up the willow cane, he swished it under their noses. “Mariel, what dyou think, are these two telling the truth?

The mousemaid strode across to the wooden post the weasels had driven into the ground to tether Bowly. She unfastened the short, heavy rope from it. Winking at Bowly and Dandin, she began tying a solid, complicated 4 knot in the ropes end. “Oh I dont know, she said. “They look like fairly respectable beasts to me.

From the weasels food cache she produced half a dozen mixed beech and hazelnuts, still in their shells. Placing them in a line on a flat rock, she turned to Spurge and Agric.

“See this knotted rope? I used to own one like itcalled it my Gullwhacker. I could lay a big seabird flat with one blow. Now I cant see any gulls hereabouts, but there1 d be other things to whack if I thought certain creatures were lying to us.

Spinning the knotted rope in a skillful blur, Mariel dealt six lightning blows to the nuts on the rock.

Whack! Smack! Crack! Thud! Bang! Splat!

The weasels squeaked with fright. Trembling, they stared wide-eyed at the line of kernel and shell fragments, which was all that remained of the six nuts. Mariel dangled the Gullwhacker a fraction from their noses. “See what I mean?

Bowly grinned from ear to ear as he patted the weasels none too gently on their heads. “Nay, nay, youve made a mistake. I cn see these are two good vermints. Why, I wager given arf a chance theyd thank us for callin in to brekkist an give us water n vittles to elp us pore travelers on our way, wouldnt you?

Spurge and Agric took the hint swiftly. Leaping up, they loaded their food and drink store into the haversack. Bowly stood by, tossing the two hard oatcakes up and down.

“These be my throwin rocks. I been knowed to fetch foebeasts down at fair distances with em, cos I be a warrior too, see.

Dandin removed sufficient supplies for a day from the pack and laid them in front of the weasels. “You havent had breakfast yethere, take this with our compliments. Were traveling south. Which way are you bound? Spurge shrugged unhappily. “North, I think, sir. Mariel swung the Gull whacker expertly across her shoulders. “Well, keep an eye out for those two thieving robbers we mentioned, and be carefulits dangerous country out here.

Dandin spun his dagger in the air. Catching it by the hilt, he thrust it into his belt. “Aye, take care; never know who you might bump into.

And the three friends strode off calling cheerful goodbyes to the crestfallen weasels.

Thoroughly refreshed, they stepped out with a will. A mere half mornings walk brought them in sight of green, hilly scrubland and the promise of gentle, fertile countryside. Bowly trudged alongside Mariel, tossing his two oatcakes in the air.

The mousemaid caught one and said, “Now then, you young rip, what are we going to do about you?

The small hedgehog snatched the oatcake back indignantly. “Ive told ye my name be Bowly Pin tips; I aint no young rip. I be goin wi you an Dandy; I be a warrior from now on!

Dandin sliced an apple into three with his dagger and gave them each a piece, winking at Mariel over the small hedgehogs head. “What dyou thinkhas he got the makings of a warrior?

Bowly scrunched his face into a ferocious scowl to show that he had. Mariel returned Dandins wink. “Being a warrior doesnt always mean a fierce face; warriors are also renowned for their gentleness.

Bowly immediately changed his expression until he thought he looked gentle enough to charm baby birds from their nests. Stifling their smiles, Mariel and Dandin carried on extolling warrior virtues, while Bowly took note of all they said.

“Oh yes, warriors are handsome beasts. Bowly wobbled his head, fluttered his eyes, and tried hard to look handsome.

“Youre right, Dandin, but Ive known warriors who can look very stern too. The handsome Bowly suddenly transformed into one with a grim jaw jutting and what he imagined were cold, gimlet eyes. Mariel spluttered and coughed on a bite of apple, while Dandin held his ribs tight to stop the laughter bubbling out.

“Aye, but give me the warrior with that devil-may-care look, one who can slay ruthlessly but still manage to laugh merrilynow thats the fellow for me! Bowlys small face contorted as he tried to glare out of one eye while twinkling merrily with the other, and he brandished his two oatcakes as if ready to slay with them at a moments notice, at the same time emitting a savage growl which he tried to couple with a merry laugh. Turning to his two companions, who were shaking with unexploded laugher, he sighed wearily.

“Phwaaw! It do take much ard work to look like a warrior!

The two teasers laughed heartily, patting Bowlys tender young prickled head. “We think youll make a splendid warrior, dont we, Dandin?

“Right! Well be three warbeasts traveling south through thick and thin to wherever our adventures take us!

Bowlys face lit up in a happy grin, and he clasped the paws of his two comrades firmly. “Aye, an never fear. Til take care of ee both!

Queen Serena watched her little son, Truffen, sadly as he sat alone in the center of Castle Florets banqueting chamber. Poor squirrelmite, forced to spend his days and nights in captivity, often separated from both parents, with only his old badger nurse, Muta, to protect him. Serena and her husband, Gael Squirrelking, sat together at one side of the chamber, with Truffen at his bench in the center, while on the opposite side Nagru and Silvamord occupied the positions of honor at high table, surrounded by rodent Captains. Serena clutched Gaels paw tightly, and they fixed their eyes on the tiny hostage.

Serena let her mind wander over past events. Was it only a season ago that Nagru and Silvamord had arrived at their gates? It seemed as though they had been in Castle Floret for an eternity. She recalled the night they had allowed Nagru and his mate into their home. It was a windy, drizzling evening in early spring, and the two foxes had looked half dead, starved, and bedraggled. Her husband, Gael, ordered that they be admitted, fed, and clothed warmly. Serena regretted that Gael had not heeded the urgent warnings of their friend Rab Stream-battle. But the Squirrelking could be stubborn, and he would not hear of Castle Florets hospitality being denied to any needy creature. Rab continued to oppose him, and the argument escalated until the angry otter stormed out of the castle, taking his otter guard with him.

Within the space of two sunsets the foxes had taken over everything. It was done with fiendish simplicity. Silver-tongued Silvamord had lured Muta to a side chamber and locked her in. Nagru snatched little Truffen and held him breathless with fright, the fearsome hooked wolf-claws a hairbreadth from the babes throat. Gael was forced to lower the drawbridge, and in a trice the castle was teeming with rats, savage, dirty gray rodents, eager to maim, destroy, or kill at a nod from their leaders, Nagru and Silvamord.

From that moment their lives had hung by a thread. All loyal friends and courtiers who resisted were slain or imprisoned in Florets dungeons, while those who were not considered dangerous were forced to wait on the foxes and their officers. The far southern sun no longer shone over a peaceful and happy land. A new king and queen held sway, backed by a horde of murderers.

Nagru was big for a fox. Lean and powerful, he was mottled bluish gray from tip to tail, and his cruel eyes resembled chips of granite flake floating in a sea of carmine blood flecks. His only clothing was the full pelt of a wolf, its head resting on top of his own like a cowl with eyeless sockets. The hide trailed down over his back with the front limbs covering his own. The wolfclaws had been replaced with sharp iron hooks, and when Nagru slid his own paws inside them they became awesome weapons.

His mate, Silvamord, was smaller in stature, but no less savage. Her fur was whitish gray with a silver-striped muzzle and back markings, and her eyes were dark obsidian green. Her regalia was a thick skirt of animal tails with glittering chips of crystal cunningly sewn into them. She moved sinuously to its strange tinkle, the equal of her mate in cunning and evil.

Now the barbaric pair sat side by side, sipping elderberry wine from Florets cellars and sharing the gamey meat of a long-dead plover. Nagru spiked a damson with his claw and shot it viciously at a fat old rat who stood nearby holding a stringed lutelike instrument.

“Yoghul, play my song!

The rat began playing, singing the dirge in an eerie, high-pitched voice.

“Where do you come from, where do you go to, From tundras of white and bright sunrises few, Cross mountains and forests, oer seas wide and blue, The one they call Foxwolf, the Urgan Nagru.

Yoghul was playing the verse over again when Nagru called across to Gael, “Hey, Squirrelking, dyou know why they call me Foxwolf?

Gael sat silent, and Nagru answered his own question. “Because I am the only fox that ever slew a wolf. This is his hide I am wearing. Ill wager youve never even seen a wolf, much less had to fight one. Well I did, and I won. Nobeast alive can stand against me!

The Squirrelking ignored his captor, who continued boasting. “Ill tell you something else. That wolfs name was Urgan. So I took it and turned it backward and made a name for myself, Urgan Nagru! Try saying it both ways, it comes out the same. Thats to let my enemies know that I can come at them backward or forward, both ways. But I have no enemies, theyre all dead. Only fools and dreamers are left, like you and your Queen. Its your own fault, squirrel. You let me in here. Aha! I see you are glaring at me. Good! You are wishing that the Fox wolf were dead, eh? The wishes of the weak are like raindrops on the face of the sea; they count for nothing. Play on, Yoghul!

While Nagru drank wine and tore at his meat, Silva-rnord had been staring fixedly at Muta, the old badger nurse. Muta could not speak. Sometimes in peaks of joy or distress she would make hoarse barking noises, but it was unusual for her to make any sound at all. She crouched at little Truffens side, always faithful to him. It irritated Silvamord to see the dumb badgers devotion to her small charge, and the vixen never missed an opportunity to humiliate or torment Muta. Calling Yoghul across to her, Silvamord divested him of his cloak, a small red thing trimmed with yellow. Then she snatched the cap from his head. It was floppy and conical with two tiny bells hanging from it. Flinging both hat and cloak at Muta, Silvamord called out derisively, “Come on, up on your paws, stripedog. Put those on and do a dance for me. I command it, dance!

The big badger did not move. She stood glaring at the vixen. Silvamord beckoned Riveneye, one of the Captains seated nearby. “If that stupid beast doesnt start dancing right now, she barked, “I want you to take your sword to the squirrel brat and tickle a dance out of him!

Riveneye stood and drew his sword.

Muta had no choice. Rather than see Truffen hurt, she donned the small cloak and tied the ribbons of the ridiculous little hat beneath her chin. Slowly she commenced a shuffling dance.

Silvamord aimed a kick at the minstrel rat. “Play, Yoghulplay faster. I want to see the big fool dance!

Around and around Muta shambled, trying to keep up with the speed of the music, the bells tinkling wildly on her silly hat. Silvamord and the rats jeered cruelly at the badgers stumbling efforts. A single teardrop spilled down Mutas face.

Queen Serena turned away, unable to watch the cruel exhibition. Gael leaned in close as if sharing her sympathy and began whispering so only she could hear. “Its all right, Serena. Dont worry. Listen to me and try not to show any surprise. Remember our singing blackbird, Relph? Rab has sent me a message through him. There will be otters waiting in the castle moat today. We will accompany Muta when she takes Truffen for his afternoon nap. Relph will hang a red cloth on the window nearest the drawbridge to tell Rab we are coming. When we leave here, watch for the window with the red cloth on the sillthats the one we jump from. When we land in the moat, the otters will take us to safety. Dont look around; just nod if you understand ... Mutas hoarse bark caused the Queen to turn.

Truffen could not understand that Muta was being made fun ofthey had often played at dancing together. Seeing her dance now made the little fellow chuckle happily. It was a game! He began hop-skipping alongside her, giggling as he clapped his paws together in time to the music.

Muta threw back her head and made happy barking sounds, and the two danced wildly, leaping and jigging back and forth. Truffen pulled the cap from Mutas head as she bowed to him and waved it about, jingling the bells and shouting uproariously, “Fasta! Fasta! More!

Nagru flicked a damson contemptuously at Silvamord. “Well, I see youve managed to make them both happy, a prancing whelp and a jigging badger. Good work! Tell me, who looks die bigger fool now, you or the badger?

Silvamord flung a wooden bowl at Yoghul. “Stop playing, you oaf! she shrieked.

The music ground to a halt. Truffen jangled the cap bells. “More dances, Uta. Want more dances!

Taking advantage of the moment, Serena hurried over. Sweeping her little son up, she took Muta by the paw and began leaving the room. Gael joined them. “Time for Muta to take you for your nap, Truffen. Come on, Mummy and Daddy will go with you.

They were almost at the door when Silvamord called out, “Halt! Who said you could leave without our permission?

Nagru idly flicked another damson at his mate. “Let them go, huh. Theyre not going anywhere.

Silvamord leaped up, eyes blazing. “Stop flicking damsons at me, spotblotch. Ill say when they can go! You just carry on slopping wine!

Nagru was not one to be insulted. He rose in a hot temper, sending dishes spilling and clattering. “Youll feel these claws if you talk to me like that, vixen! If I say they can go, my word is final! Dont try taking your sour mood out on me because your joke went wrong!

All the time the little party was edging farther out of the banqueting chamber. Silvamord grabbed a spear from a Captain named Hooktail and pointed it at the Foxwolf screaming, “Put those claws near me and Ill gut you! c Stop those creatures from leaving, now!

Two more rats, Sourgall and Ragfen, drew swords and leaped up. As Gael pushed the others ahead of him into the hall outside, Serena forgot herself and cried out, “Look on the windowsillthe red cloth!

Gael felt Sourgalls claws clamp on his shoulder. He jumped backward, cannoning Sourgall into Ragfen as he called out to the badger, “Muta, out of the windowjump for the moat! Help is waiting there. Save my family!

Then Gael went down. He was trampled and knocked aside as other rats, led by Silvamord, came charging into die passage. Muta dashed to the window where the red cloth fluttered, sweeping Serena and Truffen with her. Thrusting the little squirrel into his mothers outstretched paws, the big badger lifted them both bodily over the sill. A spearshaft broke across Mutas back. She grunted and flinched, then, gathering her mighty strength, she hurled mother and babe outward, so that they would not strike the castle walls in their descent to the moat. Turning, she ripped the dancing cloak from her shoulders. Muta smashed two rats flat with a single blow and smothered another two with the cloak, shoving them roughly into those behind and causing a melee of confusion in the enclosed space.

Now the corridor was packed with rats. Muta could not reach Gaelit was death to try. There was only one way left open to her. Lifting her bulk onto the windowsill, the badger glanced down at the long drop to the moat. Suddenly, claws sank into her lower back. Silvamord had climbed over the milling rats and seized her tight.

“Got you, stripehead! Now you 11 die long and sloooooo ... ! Without a second thought Muta had clamped her footpaws around the vixen and rolled off the windowsill, carrying her enemy through with her.

Rabs otters already had Serena and Truffen out on the bank as Muta and Silvamord came plummeting down and hit the water with a resounding boom. Locked together, they plunged beneath the surface. Muta rolled over, thrusting the vixen beneath her, then, stepping on Silvamords head, she pushed up toward the surface. Seconds later Muta was hauling herself up onto the bank and scrambling off in pursuit of her friends and their rescuers.

Terror and panic gripped Silvamordthe badgers footpaws had pressed her down into the muddy moat bottom. The vixens ears, nose, and mouth filled with water as she kicked and scrabbled furiously, then, coming free with a dull sucking noise, she drifted upward.

Whump!

The drawbridge thudded down onto the moatbank, and the rat horde came pouring out intent on catching the escaped prisoners. Spitting water and mud, Silvamord splashed up and down screeching, “Help! Save me, you fools ... Glubble ... I cant swim!

Trie rats halted, fearful of ignoring the Foxwolfs mate. Several long pikes and spears were stretched out quickly into the water, one so hastily that it clouted the drowning fox, half stunning her.

Nagru came bounding out over the drawbridge in time to see Silvamord hauled dripping from the moat. Her bedraggled skirt of tails clung wetly as she buffeted the head .of a rat called Crookneck, shouting, “I said save me, you addle-brained toad, not brain me!

As she sank exhausted to the grassy bank, Nagru berated her. “Idiot, why did you let them escape?

“Why did I let them escape? she shrieked, spitting moat water and mud at him venomously. “Where were you, bogbrains? Still swilling wine and feeding your face?

Nagru sighted the receding figures vanishing into the trees on the wooded hillside. He pointed to a group of twoscore or more rats standing on the bank. “You lot, follow me. Ill catch them!

Silvamord tottered upright at the waters edge, foot-paws seeking purchase in the wet grass. The Foxwolf could not resist giving her a hefty slap on the back. “You stay here and dry off, vixen!

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

The four otters rushed Serena along at a cracking pace. Truffen was seated on the sturdy 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 Gatchag stuck his sword into the ground and sank down on his haunches beside the quivering weapon, shaking his head knowingly. “Huh, theyre away like two brace o woodpigeons. Nah! You wont catch em now. Take my word fer it!

Swift as a flash, the Urgan Nagru grabbed Gatchags 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. Well go straight up after them. If we shift fast enough, theyll 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. Rabs mate, Iris, fitted a stone to her sling. “Those rats are coming on fast, Rab. Theyre going to pincer in front of our lot before they get herewhatll we do?

The otter leader loosed an arrow, picking off one of Mingols front-runners. Laying another shaft on his bowstring he took aim and said, “Well 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 harrying their pincer movement. Rab hurtled forward and reached the fugitives. He ran past them, calling out, “Keep goingtheres help ahead, mates. Hurry! Nagrus right behind you. Ill 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 Nagrus 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 Rabs 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 spearshes 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, Im only one otter, but here I stand. Try an pass, scum!

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 doesnt escape, theres nothin we can do at the moment, maim. As for my Rab, you know hed swap his life for friendsthats what hes doin now. Ive got to get you away, thats my job!

A spear had furrowed Rabs 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, Nagrus 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 Mutas huge frame; anger and hatred shone in the badgers 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, Riveneyesurround them! Use arrows; cut them down with spears ... Anything!

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 bumbling 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 Redwalls future; our Abbey would not flourish without the young. Many old friends have passed on to quiet pastures: Abbot Bernard, Friar Cockleburr, Old Gabriel Quill, and a few other dear companions have 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 Mariels 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 passed 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.

Josephs main worry was the lack of information about his daughter. He had received no news of Mariel from anywhere. Travelers, visitors to Redwall, passing birdsno creature knew their whereabouts, or had heard anything at all concerning Mariel or Dandin.

However, honest ones with troubled minds are often reassured 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 friend the Bellmaker was not ready to speak. He had not yet understood the meaning of Martins 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 Abbots 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! Im only slightly older than your daughter. As for you, graybeard, youre 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 massive against an early-evening sky, ancient red sandstone tinged dusky rose, framing a harlequinade of stained-glass windows by the glow of a lowering sun. The Bellmaker stepped up his pace, leaving Saxtus panting in his wake.

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

“Enough, enough. Slow down, ageless one! said Saxtus, catching hold of his friends sleeve. “Why is it that everybeast seems to be in a hurry today? Look, theres 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 werent really rushing, just stepping out a bit on our way across to dinner.

“Wem gotten guestbeasts furr dinner, said Foremole, wrinkling his button nose sagely. “Oak Tom an Treerose cummed in from ee woodlands.

Saxtus raised his eyebrows. “Well, that is a pleasant surprise. We dont 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! Foremoles dumpy frame shook with a deep chuckle. “Oid say ee best step out fast agin, zurrs. Missus Rosie an Tarquin, theym bringed all thurr hinfants 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, thats fourteen walking stomachs altogether. Theyll eat us out of house and home, then pick their teeth with the doornails!

“I dont 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?

“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 daylights last gleam youll 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. “Im glad you said that, Saxtus, he said, “because beyond those few words the whole thing is very hazy. I cant remember anything else Martin said.

The Father Abbot deliberately steered the conversation away from his friends 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 chores and come to Great Hall, for the days main meal.

A group of Dibbunssmall mice, moles, squirrels, and hedgehogstrooped round the south gable from the orchard. Singing lustily, they marched paw in paw.

“Give us dinner every eve, Or well pack our bags and leave. Where well go to we dont know, Up the path a league or so. If we dont find comfort there, Back to Redwall well repair. Well eat pudden, pie, and cake, All the Abbey cooks can make!

They stopped to let their elders pass 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. Usns 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, Id 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 dood in all me life, sir!

Foremole prodded the babes swollen stomach gently. “Burr, youm 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 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 theym do, zurr, tho theym lukk in need o a good scrubben furrst, hurr hurr!

“Oh yes, we cant 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-glass 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, stitchwort, 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 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 button mushrooms fallin out o that leek an onion pastie, mdear. 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 mustve known we were comin, Tarkers, wot?

Foremole took his seat, nudging a molefriend. “Yurr, be that turnipntaternbeetroot deepernever pie oi sees, Rungle?

“Ho aye, that et be, zurr, wF damsoncream pudden tfoller, said the other mole, as he polished a small wooden ladle eagerly. “Boi okey, ifn moi mouth waters much more oim afeared oill 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 Bellmaker was seated next to Mellusall four were close friends. Joseph leaned toward the badger as two hedgehogs passed 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 badgers silver muzzle. “Youre 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.

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

“How is it that Im 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 wed starve. Eat and be thankful.

Looking rather guilty, Saxtus stayed the Bellmakers 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. Melluss 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,

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 passed 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 Redwalls 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 Melluss lap. Joseph blinked. “You little scallywag! I suppose youd 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 winowsill, where cakes an pies be, he said.

Mellus tickled his ribs until he giggled and squirmed. “Oh no you wont, bucko. My pies and cakes are quite safe cooling alone on the windowsills. Though I once recall a certain Abbot when he was a Dibbun, spent three days in sickbay after guarding those windowsills. The greedy little snipdo you remember him, Saxtus?

The Father Abbot of all Redwall applied himself to a plate of summercream pudding, pretending he had not heard.

The evening wore on until the Dibbuns began yawning, one or two coming perilously close to falling facedown upon their plates with drooping eyes. Saxtus stood and rang his little bell.

“Anybeast on dormitory duty, please take the Dibbuns up!

Wails of protest arose from the fretful babes. “Yaah, not fair, snot fair, us allus ave tgo tbed!

“I wish us big uns could go off to bed right now, said Oak Tom, pulling a long face of comic dismay. “We have to stay up and wash pots n pans V dishes clean for morning.

Tarquin L. Woodsorrel flapped his ears in agreement. “Indeed, scout, tis a rough old life bein a big un, wot? Praps the Dibbuns arent really sleepy; what say they stay up an help? Bet theyd make jolly good pot washers, eh?

There was a sudden clatter of chairs and benches as the panicked Dibbuns dashed for the stairs yelling, “Gu-night, Father Abbot, night night everybeast. We goin abed! They scampered up the stairs amid peals of laughter.

Flooding evening sunlight had now dimmed to a golden filter, illuminating the tapestry depicting Martin the Warnor which hung upon the wall of Great Hall. Saxtus felt himself arise unbidden from his Abbots chair. He went to stand behind the Bellmaker. A dreamy feeling he could not explain had cast its mantle over the Abbot; it was as if time and the earth were standing still. A great silence lay upon the big chamber: golden dust motes hung lazily on the still air, gleaming in the last faded yellow sunrays. Amid the tangible hush Red wallers sat immobile, each in their place, like figures captured in eternity upon some vast canvas. Across the peace that lay over all, Saxtus heard his own voice. It was low, yet the sound carried from floor to roofbeam, reaching every shadowed corner of Great Hall.

“My friends, I have something to say to you. Of late Joseph, our Bellmaker, has been thinking deeply about his daughter, Mariel, and her companion, Dandin. I know that all Redwallers remember both those mice with great fondness; I certainly do. Dandin and I were brought up together, like brothers, in tlus very Abbey. Scarcely a day passes when I will not see somewhere we played together, and then I think of him, off on adventures with Mariel the Warriormaid. Alas, there has been no news of them for more than four seasons now. Where are they? I think Joseph may provide us with some help. Last night he was visited in a dream by Martin the Warrior

To Joseph, the Abbots voice behind him sounded like a distant murmur. He had not heard a word that was said. Now that Saxtus had finished speaking, every eye was turned upon the Bellmaker. He sat upright, staring hard at the likeness of Martin upon the tapestry. Saxtus watched himJosephs lips were moving slowly as if he were holding a conversation with somebeast. The room became dark; Saxtus watched as dusk heralded nightfall. The suns final ray reflected through a high window, wreathing the form of Joseph in a fleeting nimbus of light. Saxtus recalled the lines of the rhyme: “At daylights last gleam youll remember.

Then the daylight was gone.

Candles and walltorches burned bright as Joseph stood and looked about him.

“Listen now, and I will speak as Martin the Warrior told me!

It was much cooler among the green hills of the scrubland. Mariel, Dandin, and Bowly took a leisurely lunch from the supplies they had commandeered from the two weasels. The travelers rested, half napping as they lay back on a mossy hillock, listening to the high trill of a skylark backed by the drone of bees and the dry chirrup of grasshoppers. Dandin was the first to hear other noises; shaking himself out of a semi-torpor, he cupped an ear to the light breeze.

“Listen. Can you hear it, Mariel? Sounds like some-beasts doing a bit of roaring and shouting somewhere.

Mariel prodded the sleeping Bowly firmly on his snout. “Stop snoring and do something useful; sit up and tell us what you can hearcome on, dozybones!

The young hedgehog sat up, snuffling and grumbling. “Call yselves friends? Huh, wont even let a young warrior ave is slumber. Youll stunt me growth wakin me like that. Bowly had very sharp hearing, and he assessed the situation in a trice.

“Sounds like some creatures tormentin a mole. See that big hill yonder, third one goin south to the right? I reckons its comin from ahind of there.

Moles were friendly. No one hesitated. Mariel readied her Gullwhacker, and Dandin drew his dagger. Bowly sighed aloud, picking up his two hard oatcakes as he followed them on their way to the big hill. “Time for trouble agin. Mercy me, somebeasts got no consideration at all. Coin gittin theirselves into distress jus when its warriors nappin time!

Bowly was correct. It was a fat old mole in trouble. Six gray rats were trying to bind him with grass ropes. The old creature was giving a good account of himself, but the rats were overwhelming him, prodding him with spears as they looped the coils about him and struggled to get a halter round his neck. Nearby three small young moles were weeping in distress, closely guarded by a seventh rat.

The old mole pulled a paw loose as he roared, “Youm vurmints, oill never tug moi snout to no foxerwulf, ee Squirrelyking be the oandly one oi bow to, hurr!

They had not yet seen the three friends. “Me and Mariel will take the six who have the old fellow, Dandin whispered to Bowly. “Dyou reckon you could deal with that rat guarding the young uns?

Not stopping to answer, Bowly hefted one of his oatcakes and flung it hard with amazing accuracy. It whacked the rat solidly across the jaw, dropping him in a heap. The young hedgehog grinned from ear to ear. “I done that. Dandy. Wot next?

All activity below ceased as the six rats turned to stare up at the intruders. Dandin sighed in resignation. “Bowly, you might have waited until I gave the wordweve completely lost the element of surprise.

Mariel had her Gullwhacker ready as they strode down to confront the rats. She addressed the one who looked like their Captain. “You, frognose, get your filthy paws off that mole!

The rat leered crookedly at her. “Well, well, what have we here, a little mouseymaid? Whats your name, pretty one?

The Gullwhacker belted him square in the mouth and he sat down hard, spitting out a broken fang. Mariel smiled. “Should have whacked you over the ears; it would have cleared some of the muck from them. I never asked for complimentsI told you to let the mole go.

“Youve just signed your death warrant, mouse, said the rat, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. “Theres more than seven of us. Youll see! He blew several sharp blasts on a bone whistle which hung from his neck, but before he could blow more, a kick from the old mole felled him. Knowing reinforcements would be arriving promptly, Mariel and Dandin hurled themselves headlong at the remaining five rats.

“Redwaaaaaalllll!

Sheathing his dagger, Dandin tripped the first rat and grabbed the spear from his claws as he fell. Using the spear butt as a club, he set about belaboring the grounded rat furiously. Mariel tangled the footpaws of another in the coils of her Gullwhacker, whipping it free to punish him with the hard knotted end. Bowly leaped on the back of a third rat, striking hard with his remaining oatcake.

Reinforcements arrived in the form of ten more rats dashing over the hill. Mariel saw them coming and rapped out a swift order: “Form foursquare around the little moles. Quick!

They dashed to obey, facing outward with the young moles at their center. Dandin brandished the spear, jabbing. Mariel swung her rope in an arc, daring any rat to step within its range. Bowly and the old mole had picked up spear and sword; growling, they waved the weapons wildly. The rats who had been felled began to recover and rise, hopelessly outnumbering the four defenders. A rat leaped back, sneering, as Dandin jabbed out with his spear.

The Captain whose fang Mariel had knocked out staggered upright, wiping blood from his chin. “Youll wish youd never interfered with Captain Bragglin of Nagrus horde. Hitting me with that rope was the biggest mistake of your life, mouse!

Some of the rats had bows. They began fitting shafts to their bowstrings in readiness. Dandin shook his head. “Bowly, I told you it was wrong to knock that rat down before we had a chance to size up the situation.

Quivering with anticipation, the rats began slowly closing in on the little party. For the first time Bowlys swaggering attitude deserted him and his voice sounded small and frightened. “Taint much fun bein a warrior; looks like were nigh to gettin ourselves slayed!

Mariel knew Bowlys words to be true. But desperate situations call for reckless remedies: the mousemaid hurled herself into action with lightning ferocity.

Snatching the dagger from Dandins belt she clamped it firmly between her teeth, then, thundering forward, she struck hard, left, right, and center with the Gullwhacker. Totally unprepared for such an aggressive move, several rats were floored by hefty blows. They fell, bumping into : others and knocking arrows awry from bowstrings. For the second time in a short space Captain Bragglin found himself in the path of Mariels weapon. She swung it in a vicious arc, thudding the knot into his stomach. His mouth gaped wide as the breath was belted from him in a loud whoosh. Before the rats had time to recover, Mariel had thrown herself upon their Captain. She held the dagger point at his trembling gullet, roaring wildly, “Dont even think about moving, or this scum dies!

As the attackers froze in their tracks, Bragglin shouted, “Be still, dont make any false moves! Grinj, cover her! The rat called Grinj was an experienced archer. As the rest stood stock-still he slid close to Mariel, an arrow straining against his taut bowstring. Bragglin managed to gasp against the daggertip tickling his throat, “Kill her if she moves this blade a fraction!

Dandin heaved a loud sigh of dismay. It was a standoff. Noontide shimmered over the grass-topped sandhills as both parties stood poised in a silent tableau.

“Thisns a right mess we be gotten into, said Bowly, shooting Dandin a pleading glance. “Wots a warrior supposed to do now, Dandy?

Dandin knew the situation rested on a daggertip and an arrowhead. Squinting up at the high hot orb of the sun he whispered calmly, “Learn patience and obedience, thats the way of the warrior. Dont show fear, Bowly; stand up straight and wait for the next movebut be ready when it comes!