Did your parents ever tell you that you were born to do great things? Mine did, a few times.
If only we knew how wrong they were back then. When you think about it, you come to realize something. We don't make great things happen. For the vast majority of beasts, it's great things that happen to us.
--
The Northlands felt unusually cheerful for this time of year, even though the seasons were passing into early spring. The bubbling and whistling of wayfaring brooks and vagrant breezes filled the air. Distant bird calls of hardy sparrows, delicate robins, and talented nightingales wove their way through the thick branches and tall trunks of the pines and other proud evergreens in the meandering stretch of Greymarch Forest. At least, that is what its more civilized inhabitants knew it as. Located east of the small mountain chain that Mossflower and its bordering lands backed up to, it was a little world of its own, and was quite happy to remain that way. The forest itself seemed content, as the trees reared upwards to the sky and scattered the sun like elderly giants stretching their stiff limbs, and the morning dew was not cold and messy, but dappled and soft. The days in Greymarch were, predictably, mostly grey. Today, however, the sun shone with the vibrant energy of a newborn, and rained down bright shafts of shimmering gold that splintered through the foliage. It was a day of peace and a morning of new promises.
There was, however, one sound in all the forest's expanse that did not quite fit in with the rest. In the small territory known as Birchshire, which was not too different from all the other places in the forest save a few choice meadows, the morning calm was rattled regularly by the sound of wood being struck. Thock, thock, thock, it went for a good while, guiding any listeners to a small home on the side of one of the main paths in and out of Birchtown, the main center of living and commerce in this particular shire. It was a simple house of no special architecture, with a typical slanted roof and walls of sturdy timber pushing into the little hillock that the house had been built into; the utilitarian nature of the abode spoke of the assistance of local moles and hedgehogs.
But it was no mole or hedgehog that made the strange sounds. It was in fact a male mouse, young but solid and buff nonetheless like most working mice his age. He had the look of a blacksmith if his muscles were any indication, but he was far too young and his paws were not nearly calloused enough for him to be considered a master, even though they were working hard with the axe handle they gripped tight. The mouse lifted the tool above his head and brought it crashing down on the logs without mercy. In the North, winters could be terribly harsh, and fuel for fire was just as essential as food and water. Even though he liked to avoid work where he could, this youngster was very much aware that life often hung by a thread wove only of hard labor.
The mouse split one final log and let the axhead rest on the verdant, cool ground, wiping a paw across his brow which was knotted with exertion. He lazily dropped his tool onto the ground and flumped onto his back, thankful for the cushion of healthy green grass surrounding his home. Dropping an arm over his eyes, he breathed in the stiff, bracing air of the Northlands, glad that his chores were done. Things piled up quickly in the North, and if one wasn't careful they'd quickly be overwhelmed by all they needed to do. His father had given him a long and impassioned lecture about duty and responsibility not two hours ago, which had motivated him to get through his own work before his mother shamed him by doing it herself. Well, he wouldn't have to worry about that for a while!
Pushing himself up on his sore arms, he headed into the house, not bothering to wipe his back free of dirt and dry grass. Before he could soil anything, however, his mother accosted him at the door, thrusting a large satchel at his nose, which twitched irritably.
"Raya!" she said with impatience. From inside the home came the unmistakable sounds of Raya's younger brother and sister fighting over leftover tarts. Raya wisely kept his mouth shut as his aggravated mother went on.
"Take this basket. I need you to go to market. There's a list inside, I just know you'll forget if I only tell you…"
Without any hesitation, Raya simply nodded and turned away to head around the house, when his mother grabbed his arm.
"Here," she said as she dropped a small satchel into the basket. "For doing the wood."
"Thank you, Mum!" Raya called before she ducked back inside and slammed the door shut, which abruptly swung open again.
"Thank me by remembering what's needed! There's some currency in the basket." She disappeared from view once more. Raya could faintly hear her restoring order with her blaring voice, and shook his head as he skirted their home and went onto the path. He opened the satchel, his eyes darting through the contents. There was a flask, which he quickly unplugged and took a swig from. Cider! At least his mother wasn't a complete overlord.
--
A little ways down the road, another young creature was only just now starting his day. It was nearly ten o'clock, and he planned on getting something done. As opposed to his mouse counterpart back up the trail, this youngster was possessed of a little more forethought. He had done his chores well before yesterday's dinner, and now had very little to do except wait and see what he was given today. He was currently lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering as all growing folk do about idle and trivial things. His ears perked up as he listened to his sisters just finishing breakfast (he had eaten a pawful of cheese and scones well before they did). But being a squirrel, he couldn't sit still for long.
Without warning he rolled over the side of his bed and sprang up, levering off the tough wooden floor his grandfather had laid down, threw on a sturdy old brown tunic over his bright, almost orange fur, jogged down into the lower part of the treehouse, and fully expected to see some kind of commotion erupting. But his mother Jayma kept an orderly house, proud to have well-behaved and modest children. "A quiet house is a safe house," she would say whenever somebeast remarked on her family.
"Not to mention stuffy," her husband would mutter, which always got him a swift yank on the tail.
Today Castus' mother was just finishing dusting down their newly finished wardrobe, courtesy of the father of the drey, Carus. As a mayster Carus often put his skills to work tidying up their home or creating new buildings for Birchtown, the only reasonably large, permanent settlement in the area.
"Castus? Castus, come here child," Jayma said without looking over her shoulder. "I need you to run to town and grab a few things. I'm feeling a little under the weather…"
"Of course. What d'you need?" Castus asked in a plain, responsible voice, as he often carried himself as a plain, responsible beast. His mother pointed outside with her feather duster.
"The list is next to the door. Take a few of the salt bags your father acquired; you're sure to get quite a bit for them. And be back before noon tomorrow! Be careful if you stay the night!" she called, as Castus was already heading out.
"Right, mum!" Castus answered, and without preamble, swung outside, and scrambled up another branch to their storage room, where the essentials were kept. He slung a few packs of salt around his shoulders, hefting the weight easily. He clambered down the trunk of their tree, and jogged past his sisters who were out picking berries from the bushes their parents had planted a few seasons back.
The eldest, Edwina, spoke to him as he went by, brushing her full and lustrous tail free of brambles as she stood up from her labor.
"Castus! Are you going to the market?"
"Aye!" the young male answered over his shoulder, skidding to a halt just short of the main path. He was never one to speak too much unless he had good reason.
"Make sure to get more watercress, if the otters have brought any fresh!"
"I will!"
"Ooo!" spoke up the second eldest sister, Aubrie, her deep brown eyes alight with youthful vivacity. "Castus, get some cabbages, too. I hate them, but Mother wants them for soup."
"I won't forget!" Castus turned away again before he was stopped once more.
"And some hazel nuts!"
"Yes!"
"And don't forget the scallions!"
"All right!" Castus called back, a look of long-suffering on his face as he was finally free to swing out onto the path and head for the main village, twirling the salt packs around, careful to not look too eager.
In truth, despite his apparent neutrality about his new chore, he always liked going to the closest thing they had to a city. The village of Birchtown was a close-knit assortment of multi-story stone and wood buildings (some even three stories high!) packed to the brim with businesses like general stores, thatchers, carpenters, clothiers, and blacksmiths, and a few inns of a generally reputable nature. All in all, it was the premier gathering place for everybeast in Birchshire who wanted news, supplies, or a place to rest their head while traveling the few main roads that crossed through the shire.
Not that there were many on the road in the first place. Birchshire was spread over a large swath of Greymarch, but it was sparsely populated compared to other lands. Very little actually happened that was of real, earth-shattering importance, and only vague, whispered rumors of greater things like wars, treasure hunts, and Redwall ever even reached the borders of Birchshire. As a result, Castus, who was by nature a restless creature, was always eager to meet travelers and receive news of Elsewhere, drinking in the tales of bards who rested in the inns like they drank the fancy ales Birchshire was almost famous for. The town of Ivybridge currently held that inauspicious championship.
Hurrying along the path, Castus turned at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Fair day, Castus!" Raya shouted to the squirrel, jogging to meet him.
"Raya!" Castus replied, stopping short so his friend could catch up, his tail twitching merrily. "How are you today? Saddled with chores again? What are you in for?"
The mouse gave a despondent shrug.
"Helping Pa in the forge. All day. For a week. What about you?"
"Retrieving the incredible edible cabbage," Castus said, sticking his tongue out. "Among other things. Thought my chores were done yesterday, but no rest for the weary, as they say. Come on then! Maybe we'll see some traveling troubadours, or something else of interest for once in our lives."
As Castus started off at a brisk pace, Raya bent down to grab a head of grass to put between his teeth, and then set out beside his friend.
"Troubadours, eh?" he remarked with a cheeky roll of his eyes. "You say that every time we go to town, and every time, nothing of the sort even happens. Face it, Castus, everything exciting happens in the villages we trade with. Nobeast tries anything here. Which is all well and good for me. It means we'll die in peace and comfort like every other creature that came before us. And that is a cheerful thought."
Castus smiled wryly. Raya was always a very blunt and practical mouse. Sometimes Castus thought his friend would have been better off being born a hedgehog, or a mole.
"Well we do have a market, right? And everybeast who's anybeast goes to the market. Don't be so glum! You never know what a new day will bring."
Castus sighed wistfully as he thought of all the good tidings that could come upon them at market. Birchtown usually had little going on except the occasional fairs, so the market had gained a reputation as being the area where anybeast went when they wanted some variety in their otherwise monotonous and work-filled days. Almost all the inns were situated around it. Maybe they'd go into some of them to meet a few travelers. Maybe Theresa would be working in one, and she'd be their waitress. He could just imagine her sashaying over to their table, eyes sparkling and lustrous tail swishing back and forth, so hypnotically…
"Castus? Castus!" Raya jerked his friend out of his daydream, giving him a thump on his shoulder. "What are you rocking your head around like that for?"
"Oh, er, me? Nothing! Nothing at all. Just… doing my morning stretches," the abashed squirrel replied. It was silent for a while after that, and Castus reflected on previous town visits. There were very few days where he could say Theresa paid more than any small bit of attention to him, and still fewer when anything exciting happened, such as a group of soldiers going through town or one of the city lords inspecting the lands. But what memories they were when something of note did happen! It was almost like the world was trying to balance itself out, letting the boredom build and then slipping in a few wonderful happenstances of excitement and encouragement.
"You know I heard rumors of a badger traveling about?" Castus remarked. "A real live badger in our land!"
"As opposed to a fake dead one?" Raya answered with a smirk. Castus rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on, Raya. You need an appreciation for news from the outside world. Badgers are big business!"
"They're certainly big."
"I mean, haven't you ever listened to the village elders or the town historians? Talking about Burnstripe the Second and his war to end vermin domination over the Quarry Road. Or chronicling Serno, Eric and Esta, who founded the Alliance of the Vale? Or even about how river pirates are acting up down south again? It's important to know all these things, Raya!"
"I just know it's important to know how to farm and build a house. Pa says that's how he caught Ma's eye, by building a good house."
Castus wrinkled his nose.
"Well I really don't think marriage has everything to do with the house, Raya."
"Oh, no? What are you going to impress your girl with, your extensive knowledge of times gone by? Not everybeast is as enamored with history and big battles as you are, Castus. Assuming I ever find females as more than an annoyance to the rest of the world, why should I ask for anything special? We'll meet, we won't mind each other, and we'll enjoy being stuffed in the ground and stuck into Dark Forest together." Raya gave a petulant shrug. "But like I always say, Castus, girls are trouble. They never talk about anything except the weather and whether or not you think their fur is oh so well groomed. My sister is proof of that." He offered up a loud snort to that. "As if anyone can get their fur well groomed in damp places like Greymarch."
"Well, I wouldn't be so quick to judge," Castus replied with a calm, sly smile. "It's sometimes the most hard-hearted in old stories who fall the hardest in love."
Raya seemed rather discomfited by that.
"It is?" he asked, sounding a bit nervous. His nose and whiskers twitched with agitation. "Is it? No it isn't. You're lying! That doesn't make any sense at all, why, it sounds all backwards..."
While Raya was dealing with this paradox, Castus reflected once again on how he'd like to meet his romance. It'd start out calmly, slowly at first. Perhaps they'd meet in a garden. They'd talk under the moon, and perhaps not see each other for a while to reflect on one another. And gradually, slowly but surely...
She'd have green eyes. Theresa had green eyes.
"Do you think Janus will be guarding the gate today?" Raya interrupted his thoughts. Castus thought about being indignant for being so rudely cut in on, but at the thought of Janus he shuddered.
"He's always guarding the gate. It's the place where he causes the least trouble for the watch."
Despite being a tightly knit community, Birchtown had its share of bad apples. Janus was no exception. The portly shrew was of no particular renown. In fact, very few even bothered to notice him, and he had taken it upon himself to tell the world how dutiful and tough he was. Rumor said that he used to handle cargo on the southern riverlands, which was why he was so burly and gruff. But many just said that he was an ignored middle son of a poor family with a grudge against the world.
Whatever the reason, he sounded angry as Castus and Raya approached the gate, waving his spear this way and that. His fellow watchmen looked either too bored or indifferent to interfere and watched with vague bemusement as Janus attempted to impose himself on the youngsters.
"Hey now! What do we have here? Our own liddle poacher Raya and his skinny, shifty friend Castus the Mute. Off to market and leaving your mums with extra housework, eh?"
"Of course, Janus. Dodging heavy labor is what I live for," Raya said without hesitation, in stark contrast to Castus. Castus rarely said anything out of turn, which led to inevitable ribbing about how he refused to say anything too loud, otherwise he'd hurt his delicate ears. If Castus wanted excitement, Raya couldn't think of anything more exciting than getting clapped into irons for assaulting Janus. In his mind it would almost be worth it.
Castus turned his head away, trying to give Janus as little permission as possible to turn on him too. Raya never backed down from a good argument, and Janus was never easily dissuaded when he got like this. He could see it now, they'd get up in each other's faces again until they started tussling, and then he and the guards would have to pry them apart, and he would have to give Raya another lecture on how he wasn't supposed to cause trouble.
But before the tension could escalate, a quiet, slightly nasal voice interrupted from behind the mouse.
"Cut that business out, Janus."
The surly shrew turned about to reveal a dark eyed, tough bodied river vole with sleek brown fur standing in the gate, arms crossed over his strong chest.
"Leave 'em be, Janus," he said with a shake of his head. "You're in a bad mood, we all know that. But we 'ave a fair in two weeks. Lighten up, will you? We're gonna get more beasts comin', an' most of 'em will need proper inspectin'."
Janus bristled. He never liked the handsome, fair-minded vole (considering him very much a soft-hearted creature with too much bravery for his size) almost as much as he didn't like everybody else. "This is official militia business, Hal-!"
"It's a waste of time an' you know it. Save your energy an' your bad temper for real trouble, mate."
Janus' nostrils flared, but he stepped aside and waved Castus and Raya on through. The other guards sighed with relief, glad that they didn't have to shift themselves to break up a fight today. With a simple nod to the youngsters, Halen turned and walked away.
"Halen thinks he's such a hero," Raya muttered as they headed into town, hurrying away from Janus and all the trouble.
"He's not that bad, once you get to know him," Castus answered shortly. He was always a believer in the good in beasts. Something that Raya found annoying. Whenever Castus talked like that, it made his tail curl in a manner most uncomfortable.
"He barely even talks! He's like a tree. A big, handsome, dumb tree. Not that I don't prefer him to Janus. Him, I'd like to tar and feather."
"I really doubt getting arrested will improve relations between you two," Castus reprimanded his friend at once. "Besides, he only picks on us because of you. That whole business last season with the dead fish and the wagon of wet grass..."
"It was funny, and that's all that matters! Besides, Janus needs to be taken down a couple pegs. Anyway, what're we here for again?"
"Food, Raya. And I-"
Castus stopped suddenly, ears up and tail twitching. Raya stared uncomfortably, feeling his tail curl again. His squirrel friend was almost completely still, head up and nose out, almost as if he was trying to sniff out a hidden treasure.
"Do you hear that?" he whispered. Raya turned his wide ears to the wind, but couldn't pick up anything.
"No."
"It's music!" Castus blurted out excitedly, then grabbed Raya's arm and began yanking him to the market square.
"Castus wait, I- ack!"
Castus, though lithe and athletic compared to his barrel chested, stout mouse friend, was still fit and hearty as befitting a growing male of his age. He didn't have much trouble tugging Raya along behind him, even while the mouse protested vociferously. But then, through his own shouting and the milling about of the crowds, Raya began to hear it himself. There was the unmistakable drone of a pipe, the plucking of a lute, and the beat of a drum. Suddenly his footpaws stopped resisting and began heading towards the music.
"We must have visitors," he said, somewhat entranced. Castus was the only beast who knew it, but Raya was a music lover. All of a sudden he began sincerely missing the reed flute he had left at home. Practicing with it was one of the few things he was dedicated to, and he was keenly feeling its absence on his hip.
"Of course we have visitors," Castus said breathlessly as they pressed into the crowds, hardly noticing when Raya was ripped from his grasp by the press of bodies who were all pressing together to get a look at the show. "That must be why it's so busy... the fair coming up is attracting more merchants! Isn't it exciting?"
"Not really," Raya growled as he stepped on another squirrel's tail to move him out of the way and pushed against a fat volewife. He hated crowds. "One side, you wretches! Dutiful youngsters coming through!"
Castus didn't seem to notice. His squirrel agility allowed him to slip between any gap he could find. In contrast to Raya, he was loving all of this. Merchants from far-off lands with stories of war and adventure. The fair with all its colors and activities. Oh, to be able to travel. To wander unknown roads and meet new creatures. To learn to write and read ancient histories. Now, today perhaps, he might actually be a part of those histories, or at least go home with more stories and pretend he could have been. In any case, he finally found himself at the front of the crowd with only one thought on his mind:
At last, something exciting is going to happen...
--
A/N: I do not own Redwall. Brian Jacques does. I own all original characters appearing in this story.
