Book Three: The wars of winter
A/N: And we're onto Book three. How exciting. Thank you to everyone who has been so kind as to help me with this project.
Chapter 1: To battle
Within hours of his mate being laid in the frozen earth, Fredik called a council of war. Having waited all autumn for the call to arise, the mink captains formed up in the main hall. They were joined by the mercenaries and wave vermin their master had enticed. The displeasure of the local minks was openly present in their dark eyes. Uniform tabards stood in stark contrast to the ragged travel cloaks and searat silks of the others.
After much insistence, Nicara joined those in attendance. She didn't wish to hear about the events second-paw from Vaniska. She and Konnel stood beside the young warlord, careful to watch who he conversed with. The minks tended to ignore Vaniska, or pay him little heed. They showed him no ill will, in part due to their fear of Yeevada's seer abilities. The wave vermin and mercenaries didn't know what to make of the young fox. They too showed hesitancy around him, as they rightfully suspected he was naught but a puppet to another. But as with many things in life, there was always an exception. One searat had taken a shine to young Vaniska. To Nicara's great annoyance it was none other than Captain Verdereaux. He had a reputation as the most feared, and admired searat to sail the region. As far as searats went Verdereaux served many capacities. He and his crew were fearsome pirates, a true boon to have on Fredik's side. They were also successful slave traders. The reason Verdereaux agreed to aid the mink, was the promise that he could take his share of woodland serfs. He also had a reputation of being quite eccentric in his dealings. Nobeast would dare say the rat was mad, while strange he still held a firm, if not askew grasp on sanity. He favoured exotic foods, fine wines, and garbs of the most elegant design. Had it not been the cutlass tucked in his sash or the crew at his back, he might appear as some elegant squire.
The colourful captain strolled about the main hall as if it were his own castle. Unlike many of the searats Nicara had previously encountered, he was curiously clean. Indeed his fur seemed freshly washed and combed, his long whiskers waxed and curled at the ends. He wore a frock coat of green velvet and a tri-corner hat. On each claw, which was carefully polished, he wore heavy gold rings embellished with varying jewels.
"Ah, Vaniska dees is de day we all wait for." The searat pulled with young fox towards him. "We sail t'glory n'blood. " He laughed clapping Vaniska heartily on the back.
Fredik arrived, holding up his paws to silence the assembly. When they were at last silent, he addressed them.
"Tomorrow at dawn ve vill sail into de landz of mine long time foe Tarza. She, who has cheated us, stole from us. Vorse still betrayed her fellow minkz in de election fer emperor. Vat t'do vit such a beast. I know dis answer. Ve burn her!"
There was a cry of support rising from the assembled vermin. Vaniska clenched his jaw, mentally preparing for the task ahead. While fire had long served him well, he did not especially look forward to the flames he would be asked to light for Fredik.
Orders were set. Vaniska and his crew would sail alongside Verdereaux and his rats. The searats would provide a distraction while Vaniska set to his work. To Nicara's great displeasure the other ships wouldn't land until after her creatures had set to their assigned task.
"We're to be fodder for Tarza's troops." She snapped as they left the main hall.
"Careful with your words Nicara." Konnel warned. "We have enough fighting beasts, I've sized up Verdereaux's rats, and you should be most safe." The white fox tried not to sound too condescending. He had served as a guard long enough to know, that the higher up a beast became, the more they feared for their own pelt. Konnel wished his lady had opted to remain in Fredik's territory. It would save him the trouble of having to fight against Tarza's beagles, and keep an eye on her. For all she thought herself a tactician, Nicara was no warrior.
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Yeevada would not be going into battle. The decree came from Fredik himself, not that Nicara would argue with it. The mink king wanted the vixen to remain with his young son. His orders were that she was to oversee his care. Fredik afforded to her any resources she may require in raising his most prized possession. While Yeevada knew the art of healing, and appeared to have the gift of a seer, she knew little of child rearing. The task had fallen to older vixens in her band, she knew some of the skills required but did not trust herself with such an important babe. It was clear she needed other females to help her. The vixen did not seek out the help of minks; she didn't trust them, as they didn't trust her. Instead she pulled from the vermin Nicara had brought with her from the south lands.
One old stoat stood out to Yeevada as a likely candidate. She remembered the stoat Grabul had been kindly to her during the voyage. When they first arrived in Fredik's land, she recalled this particular creature bragging that of the twelve kits she gave life to, eight lived to mature. A number any stoat could be proud of. Yeevada wasted no time seeking this beast out. Old Grabul was pleased to assist with the little prince; after all it meant she wouldn't have to follow the rest to the battle ground. While the stoat undoubtedly knew how to care for infants, there was one area she could not assist in. With no mother, the little mink still needed milk. Although it was the winter season, finding a suitable wet-nurse proved easier than the vixen expected. It seemed there was no shortage of females willing to let their whelps starve in exchange for a roof over their heads and warm food in their bellies. Yeevada selected one young weasel for the task. The whimpering weasel kit was left in the winter snow, while its mother joined the vixen and the old stoat.
"I can't git 'im t'take it." The young weasel complained. In her arms the tiny babe wriggled avoiding all her efforts to get him to nurse.
The old stoat was quickly losing patience and held a quick whispered conference with Yeevada. "Snidel's too young, shouldn't 'ave been allowed t'whelp herself let alone nurse a king's kit."
The vixen watched the weasel in her efforts. "Dis is vy I chose her, she's young. Ve only need her till vinters end, I didn't vant a beast to cause trouble." Sighing, she nodded to the stoat. "Help her Grabul afore she strangles the little mink.
Taking the babe from Snidel's paws, the Grabul spoke sternly to the young weasel. "Lie down before ye hurt ye'self." Motioning to the soft bed the chamber provided, Grabul carefully held the babe while getting Snidel into the desired position. Fluffing up a pillow she helped the weasel lay on her side, but not without the encouragement of a few well placed smacks. "Shift y'self y'worthless weasel. "
Once Snidel settled to Grabul's liking she set the babe down on the bed. The little mink wriggled and squirmed until he could latch himself on. Snidel was caught off guard. "How'd 'e do that?"
"No need to smother the babe and wear y'self down by pressing 'im to ya. When a babe's hungry he'll find y'hisself. "The old stoat explained sitting behind the weasel. Keeping an eye on the prince she patted Snidel's head in encouragement. For all that Snidel bothered her; Grabul couldn't help but feel an overwhelming pity for her. This weasel was little more than a child herself; she had no place having her own babes. Yet Grabul had lived long enough not to be so naive to the ways of weasel like creatures. Winter nights were cold, and weasels had to grow up quickly.
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At Salamandastron, the Long Patrol was also preparing to enter into battle. Despite the bitter cold, troops trained and prepared themselves for the long march north. The first set of patrols had already departed. Now those going to offer relief were preparing to meet with their comrades. The waiting game had begun, armed and ready, the hares selected to go could only bide their time and await official orders to move.
Troth the warrior mouse of Redwall, had been following the unfolding events closely. At the midday meal he joined Colonel Hardan at his table. "I would like to join the hares marching north." He announced, although it was no surprise to anybeast.
"Out of the question my dear mouse." The old hare didn't as much as look up from his soup.
"But, Sir, I have been a warrior my entire life, my skills are just as developed as any of your hares."
Wiping his drooping mustache with his napkin Hardan nodded. "That may be laddie buck, but I still can't let you go."
Troth was starting to feel like an imploring dibbun begging his elder to let him stay up past bedtime. "Why is that sir?"
"Quite simple actually, t'start with I can't bally well put the life of a guest in danger. However, more importantly, yer the blinking warrior of Redwall Abbey. Their chief line of defense dontcha know. True those vermin are only focuses around the northlands for now. But what if in a season or so, some escape my Long Patrol and decide to press inland. You'll be needed back at Redwall. "
Troth's face fell, he understood where his duty lay, yet he had hoped in joining the fabled fighting hares in battle. To cheer the mouse up Hardan quickly added.
"Y'know, with so many sword slinging chaps marching off, we'll need somebeast t'help teach our young cadets. Fancy taking on the job of instructor till winter's end?"
Troth had already been helping in a smaller capacity, so he was quick to nod in agreement.
"Capital." Hardan smiled, and returned to his soup. What had started as a quiet meal quickly became all the livelier as more of the officers came to sit at the table. Down at the far end of the table, Lieutenant Aubrey and Captain Bloomberry enjoyed their hot mushroom soup. A young runner scurried up to the pretty young Captain and passed her a folded piece of parchment. Giving a quick salute he grinned broadly then ran to join his young friends for lunch. Blomberry opened the message and smiled, reading it to herself. Waving a spoon at his friend Aubrey questioned.
"Wots all that then?"
Bloomberry quickly folded the paper and laid it beside her bowl. "If you must know, it's a poem Lieutenant Damrey wrote for me. "
"Humph, didn't think y'could use runners for those types of messages." Aubrey huffed.
"Am I sensing jealousy there chum?" Bloomberry smiled, reading over the message once more.
"Hardly! Me, jealous of Damrey? Are you courting the duffer then?"
Bloomberry shook her head taking another spoonful of soup. "No, I'm not involved with Damrey, despite his best efforts."
Aubrey reached a paw across the table. "Then you won't mind me reading the little poem then wot."His paw was quickly slapped, and the message tucked away in Bloomberry's tunic, where Aubrey's paws wouldn't stray. He rubbed his paw ruefully. "Well if you're not involved with him, why can't I read it?"
"Because it's private you silly scut."
Further banter between the pair was brought to a halt when the supplies quartermaster, a tubby sergeant by name of Hurdlow, marched up to the Colonel. Curiously Aubrey and Bloomberry watched as he addressed the senior officer.
"Sah, I believe there 'as been an h'error in a rations request." He presented the parchment to Hardan.
The older hare popped in his monocle and looked over the writing. "Hmm, let me see now: one flagon of damson port wine, two portions of golden cheese, two portions of basil and nut cheese, a loaf of wheat bread, a pot of raspberry jelly, a pot of honey, two large mushroom and leek flans, an apple pie, and half a dozen butter tarts?" Puzzling over this request he scratched his chin. "Great seasons, who ever requested this lot?"
Hurdlow leaned forward and pointed to the signature. "Why, you did sah. This is why I've questioned it. This manner of scoff isn't meant for rations request, Sah, mayhaps y'ment to request it for a council meeting or some such wot?" Hurdlow spoke very carefully; afraid Hardan might take his words to imply he was going senile.
"Nonsense, I know which form is which." Hardan put away his monocle, ears flexing in thought. "Which chap brought this request t'you?"
"It never went t'me personally sah. One of my corporals took it last night. I believe it was Lieutenant Brea delivered it."
"Brea eh, dashed strange. " Hardan looked about the table expecting to see the hare in question eating with the rest. "He's always the responsible type. Y'sure it wasn't Aubrey."
"Sah?" The sergeant looked insulted that Hardan would suggest such a thing. "H'all those managing our supplies 'ave been informed that Lieutenant Aubrey is not to be granted any access to the Salamandastron food stores. Nor is he to present request slips or sign off on them."
"Yes, well, dismissed for now Sergeant. I'll find Brea and sort this out." Hardan, still puzzled glanced down the table and called out to Aubrey. "Have you seen Brea about t'day?"
Aubrey looked down at his soup, for all the times he did it, he didn't especially like lying to Hardan. "Er, rather, not t'day, 'spose the chaps busy, wot with impending battle and wot not." What Aubrey didn't say was Brea hadn't returned to their shared living quarters the past night.
Bloomberry finished off her soup, and wiped her bowl clean with a piece of bread. "Romantic isn't it. I've never had a chap risk being put on charge for me."
Aubrey's ears wriggled in the Captain's direction. "If that's what it takes m'dear, I can toss insults at the Colonel until he sees fit to toss me in the guardhouse. "
This brought gales of laughter from several of Aubrey's peers, and a fatherly glance from Hardan.
"I'd watch it if I was you Lieutenant. You're just about one blinking pawstep away from being a Sergeant." He spoke in a light mannered way, but his words still carried the hint of warning.
The jovial Aubrey piped down immediately, and focused once more on his meal. While the winter winds whipped around their mountain stronghold the hares kept their spirits high with warm meals. It seems the cooks knew just the thing to keep the troops contented. Hot mushroom soup, with heavy wheat and nut bread, lots of cheese and scones dripping with honey for after. The whole mess filled with the aroma of hot apple cider, which was mulling away for suppertime. The smell hinting at future delights to come.
One young hare, on mess duties wandered up to the officer's table to collect unneeded bowls and plates to be washed. He pushed a trolley before him; it announced his presence wherever he went as the rear wheel was in dire need of grease. As with many young hares, he held a certain admiration for Aubrey. Perhaps it was his youthful antics, or the fact he always took the time to listen to the young cadets. The young hare saluted smartly.
"Afternoon sah, scrummy scoff wot?"
Aubrey smiled, and passed the young buck his bowl. Instead of carrying on, the young creature lingered a moment longer.
"Beg pardon sah, but are we expecting prisoners?"
The question caught Aubrey off guard. "Whatever do you mean young 'un?"
Keeping his voice to a whisper he explained. "Well sah, last evening Lieutenant Brea asked if I would add a fresh layer of straw in the guardhouse. Asked me t'move an ole table an' chairs there too. So I got t' thinking, mayhaps there's prisoners coming, an' nobeast is telling us younger set."
"Brea asked you to do this?" Aubrey passed a knowing nod towards Bloomberry. "Well young sirrah, I think it is safe t'say there are no prisoners bound for our guardhouse. So don't you fret y'self none." Clapping the hare on his shoulder he sent him on his way.
"Jolly strange, gone all night, table and chairs in the guardhouse, best blinking scoff taken from the larders..."
Bloomberry sighed smiling. "I dear say it is the most romantic thing I've ever heard."
Aubrey made a face. "Oh you would say that wouldn't you."
At long last Brea made his appearance, accompanied by Mayweed. Their arrival at the meal table was met with several low whispers. Ignoring these Brea took up his usual place alongside Aubrey.
"Are we expecting prisoners mate?" Aubrey asked trying to maintain a straight face. He couldn't help but note a flush in Mayweed's cheeks.
"Er, what in fur's name gave you that idea ole chap?" Brea largely ignored Aubrey, as he frequently did.
"An' where were you last night?"
"Guard duty." Brea answered, not skipping a beat.
Winking to Bloomberry, Aubrey grinned. "An' Captain, when was the last time you did guard duty here at Salamandastron."
Catching the wink Bloomberry made quite the show of tapping her chin and humming and hawing as she thought. "Let me see, not since m'days as a carefree young cadet. What about you Aubrey?"
"Not since I was a sergeant, watching over those carefree young cadets. Captain, tell me, have you ever heard of a Lieutenant…"
"One of the Sergeants took ill, I simply replaced him." Brea quickly cut Aubrey off.
"Which one?"
"Does it blinking matter?"
"Yes actually."
"Sergeant McFarrdow."
"Ha, that chap was not on guard rotation last night!" Aubrey clapped his paws in triumph. "Now tell me wots going on."
"An' how in the name o' seasons would you know that wot?" Bree was quite stunned by his friend's knowledge on the subject.
Wriggling his ears the cheek Aubrey replied. "Just because m'blinking eyes are closed doesn't mean I'm not listening during briefings."
The antics of the pair had attracted the attention of the rest of the table. All eyes fell on Brea, curiously wondering what exactly had happened. The usually responsible young officer put down his spoon and addressed the table.
"I had hoped to explain under far less, aggravating circumstances. " He cast a cool glance towards Aubrey. "But as you've probably already sorted, Mayweed and I are getting married. "
Mayweed, who had been previously hiding her paws, showed off a silver pawring Brea had given her. "It has been in Brea's family for seasons. He gave it to me last night." She explained to the onlookers and well wishers.
Amid all the paw shaking and back pounding, Aubrey sat in his seat with a bemused look. "Engaged?" He blinked several times. "Brea, Mayweed can't bally well live with us."
It was then Brea's time to look baffled. "'course not chum, I've already put in for new quarters. "
"New quarters? But what about me?" Aubrey's voice raised several octaves shriller.
Brea patted his friend's shoulders. "Come now Aubrey, y'are a big beast now, y'll be just fine wot."
