THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Three

Montybank and Winokur were up before sunrise. Two of the Abbey's other younger otters, Rumter and Brydon, helped them work the nets in the pond for catches of freshwater shrimp. Monty had replaced the sword of Martin in its rightful place in Great Hall, not wanting to get it wet in the pond. By the time the pale blush of dawn had blossomed into full summer morning, the four of them had hauled in two bulging netfuls of the tasty crustaceans.

"I think our little pond's getting shrimped out again, Montybank sir," Winokur said, struggling with his end of one load. "Guess it'll soon be time to make another trip to the River Moss to restock."

"Right you are, Wink laddo! Daresn't let our shrimp pool run low, eh? We'll make a rudder-walloping day trip of it - roll out th' barrels an' the ol' cart, pack a day's vittles fer all th' otters lads 'n' lasses ... and get Maura to play carthorse. Nobeast c'n pull that contraption like that great hulking stripemarm of ours!"

Rumter and Brydon were struggling with their burden. "Skipper," Rumter called out, "We're 'avin' trouble liftin' ours."

"Then open the top a scritch an' spill some back inta th' pond. There y'go - good work! Righto, now then, hearties, let's get these li'l wrigglers into th' kitchens. Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup fer lunch t'day, mates! All you can eat!"

Brydon sniggered at his companion as they all lugged off for the Abbey. "All we can eat, 'ee says? Not if'n he gets to it first, Rumter matey!"

"I 'eard that!"

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The Abbey kitchens were busier than usual for the morning after a feastday. Many Redwallers would normally skip breakfast altogether following a meal of such proportions, and some would scarcely eat all day. But the infants and young ones would never stand for a day without breakfast. And on this morning, Redwall had an important guest to think of as well, so there was no question of not opening the kitchens for the morning meal.

Sister Aurelia, unable to sleep after her strange encounter with Urthblood, had come down to the kitchens to lose herself in labor as she mulled over the experience. Working through the predawn hours, she'd prepared an entire batch of honey bread and had it laid out in pans and ready for the ovens by the time Friar Hugh joined her.

Now those loaves stood cooling upon racks and tabletops, while a second batch was rising in the multi-tiered ovens. The aroma could only be described as heavenly, and as it wafted up through Great Hall and to the dormitory levels, beasts of all species awoke to greet the day with mouths watering. More than one Redwaller who'd sworn not to eat a thing this morning would be persuaded by their noses to change plans ... which was just fine, because there was plenty for every creature at the Abbey.

Unless, of course, Montybank got to them first.

The squad of otters hit the kitchens like an unexpected tidal wave, swinging their heavily-laden shrimp nets this way and that without any regard for life or limb. Friar Hugh and his helpers had to scatter to get out of the way, while Sister Aurelia dove beneath the nearest table.

"Right ho, lads, that's good haulin'! Hey, wot's this? Ah, a reward fer yer hard-workin' Skipper!" In a single smooth motion Monty flung down his end of the net he and Winokur were carrying and plucked up one of the cooling loaves. Half of it disappeared in one bite. "Mmmph ... fine bakin'! Think I'll 'ave another ... Ouch!"

Friar Hugh, recovering from the otter onslaught, had grabbed his favorite ladel and rapped Montybank's paw as the gluttonous creature reached for a second loaf.

Monty stood rubbing his smacked flipper, a comical look of hurt innocence on his face. "Aw, now why'd y'go an' do that fer, me ol' Friar bucko?"

"Out! Out of my kitchen, you waddling feedbag!" Friar Hugh stood brandishing his prized utensil. The Friar was a tall, lean whipcord of a mouse, so wiry that some said he merely slipped between gaps in the wall bricks whenever he wanted to leave the Abbey. He was undisputed master of Redwall's kitchens, and although he probably weighed only a fifth what Montybank did, the otter Skipper was thoroughly cowed by Hugh's authority here.

Monty's expression of petulance deepened. "I do not waddle!"

"You have been a plague upon my kitchens every day since I became Friar! Scoffing everything in sight, raiding the stocks, grabbing ingredients while my back's turned ... it's a miracle I've been able to get a single meal prepared with you around! Now, get out!"

"Sorry, matey. Love t' oblige, but 'fraid I can't." Monty's paw shot out for a plate of candied chestnuts. By the time Friar Hugh's ladel came down, the nut was already in Monty's mouth. "Y'see, me mateys an' I've got some shrimp stew t'stew up. So clear us some table space, 'cos we got t'get choppin'!"

Friar Hugh glared at the loaded nets, mortified at the water leaking all over his immaculately clean floor. "Shrimp stew?"

"Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup, to be proper 'bout it. Oh, howdy, Sister Aurelia! Wot're you doin' down there? Yes, Friar, seems we didn't 'ave any of our otter soup secialty left over from yesterday, so's we got t'make some more. Got an important guest t' impress, don'tcha know?"

"No leftovers, eh? Wonder why." The Friar heaved a resigned sigh. "Okay, okay. Push those nets off to the side, and as soon as we're done getting breakfast ready, you and your gang can make your soup. But for now, get out! I don't want you scoffing up all my work before it even gets out of this kitchen."

"Nothin' wrongful 'bout scoffin', me dear mouse. A lot t' be said fer it, in fact." Monty ran his gaze up and down Friar Hugh. "You should try it yerself. Ain't friars s'posed t' be fat?"

"Two seasons of one's youth spent as a slave will leave its mark on anybeast. Maybe if you'd known a little hunger in your own days, you wouldn't be such a glutton now."

"Glutton? Will th' insults never end? Yesterday I was th' guest of honor at me own feast, now I'm just a waddlin', gluttonous feedbag!" Monty went into a mock swoon, then rounded on his otters. "Right, you 'eard our frymaster! Push those nets under th' table an' outta the way - whoops! Watch out fer Sister Aurelia! - an' we'll toddle off fer a bit while the breakfast shift tidies up. There, that's shipshape!" Monty turned back to Hugh an snapped an ostentatious salute to the Friar. "There, yer kitchen's back t' you, M'lord Cooker! Call us when th' soup cauldrons are free!"

Even as the quartet of otters trooped off toward Great Hall, a long, low rumbling came into the kitchen from a tunnel on the opposite end. A large cask appeared from the opening, rolling straight toward the kitchen staff and causing them to scatter once more.

Balla, the burly hedgehog cellarkeeper, appeared on the heels of the barrel, which rolled to a stop in the middle of the floor. Balla was the master of the drink cellars every bit as much as Friar Hugh was lord of the kitchens. She peered past the oversized cask, taking in the confusion all about her.

"Quiver my spikes," Balla said, "I coulda swore I heard that cheeky Skipper of ours, but he don't seem to be about."

"You just missed him and his gang of thieves," Friar Hugh informed her.

"Thank goodness for that. He'd've quaffed up all my cordial, an' left none fer the Brothers and Sisters."

Sister Aurelia stood brushing shrimpnet water from her habit. "Don't you know it, Balla." She cast an eye toward the barrel. "I say, should you have been rolling it along like that? I thought that would get it all clouded up?"

"Right you are, Aurrie. This'n here's an empty. T'was leaking a bit, so I drained off the clear portion into flagons fer today's meals. All that's left in here's the dregs. I'll wash her out an' try to patch her up. Failin' that, guess I'll jus' set her out in the cloisters. Might make a good rain barrel, or maybe a planter or somesuch."

"Well, I suppose that means we won't run short of drink this day. What flavor was it?"

"Strawberry. With a bit o' fizz to it."

"Ooo. The little ones will love that. It's their favorite." Aurelia glanced about the kitchens. "Fresh warm bread and cold strawberry cordial for all! I think this is going to be a good morning!"

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Breakfast was taken that morning on the Abbey lawns. The bright summer sun lit up Redwall in its full splendor of red masonry and dew-speckled grass, the tiny droplets refracting the sunlight into a million miniature points of rainbow sparkle on the fresh green carpet. Children who'd finished eating ran back and forth on the lawns, heedless of the dawn dampness that wet their footpaws. It was the kind of morning Redwallers cherished.

The Abbey leaders gathered around a table near the pond. Maura sat alongside Urthblood, who'd made a late appearance, while Geoff and the Abbess nestled together on a bench across from the two badgers. Even Montybank took a respite from his soup cooking duties to break bread with his companions.

"Glorious mornin', ain't it?" Makes a beast mighty glad t' be alive."

"Yurr, moighty glad indeed," Foremole agreed, pouring his third tumbler of the strawberry fizz.

Urthblood chewed his bread contemplatively, letting his gaze wander all about him. "Yes, this is a wonderful place you have here. Especially for the youngsters, and the old ones. No such sanctuary as this exists in the Northlands ... although perhaps someday we could build one."

"Wonderful idea!" Monty muttered through his doughy mouthful. "We can call it Redwall North ... mebbe open up a franchise, exchange emissaries an' all that."

Vanessa and Geoff chuckled at this suggestion, but old Arlyn smiled. "You know, I believe Martin the Warrior would approve of that idea. He was originally from the Northlands himself, after all. I think he would have built ten Redwalls in his life if he'd been able, all throughout the lands, to benefit as many creatures as possible. As it was, Martin barely lived long enough to see this one finished."

Urthblood raised his mug. "A toast then. To Redwall North!"

"And South, East and West!" Monty added, hoisting his own cup. "Why stop at one?"

"Multiple Redwalls?" Vanessa shook her head, laughing. "I'm sorry, but I just can't picture such a thing. Maybe my imagination simply isn't vivid enough, but ... oh, well!" She joined the others in raising her drink in salute. "Here's to as many Redwalls as the goodbeasts in all the lands can manage to build and maintain. And if that's not the strangest toast I've ever made, then I'm not Abbess!"

Everybeast at the table, and a few who stood nearby, laughed and toasted and revelled in the jollity of the moment. All except Urthblood, who seemed at ease but remained solemn and serious.

Vanessa turned to the badger warrior. "Forgive me if I'm prying, My Lord, but Sister Aurelia tells me you slept in your armor last night. That can't have been comfortable!"

Urthblood seemed untroubled by the inquiry. "In the north, comfort is a luxury that can get you killed. I realize I am not in the Northlands now, but the habits acquired over many seasons of hardship are not so easily shed."

"Nor is your armor, apparently," Monty laughed boisterously.

Urthblood looked at the otter without smiling. "Just so."

Brother Geoff leaned in with a change of subject. "My Lord, I did a little work in the archives last night before going to bed. I've got some of the records you were asking about. I haven't located the Abbey plans yet, but I've a good idea where they might be. It shouldn't take too long to dig them up. If you'd like to come down with me once we've finished breakfast, I can let you have everything you wanted."

"No need for haste," Urthblood assured the historian. "First I would like to have a more complete tour of the Abbey than the brief one I was given last night. That should take most of the morning. After that, I can stop down by you to collect the journals and plans. I would prefer to study them in the privacy of my room, where I will be able to concentrate fully. I trust that will give you sufficient time."

"Oh, plenty. They'll be waiting, whenever you're ready."

For the second time that morning, the mellow bonging of the twin Matthias and Methuselah bells rang out from the bell tower, announcing the official end of mealtime and the start of the day's appointed tasks.

The Abbess gave a chuckle. "I saw Cyril and Cyrus running off toward the tower a moment ago. Those two certainly do immerse themselves in their bellringing duties!"

"Enjoy it while you can, Vanessa," Maura said, "because once they start helping Geoff in the archives and we have to assign some substitute bellringers, I doubt you'll hear our two bells ring in such harmony for some time to come."

"Or perhaps never again," Geoff said with a smile, "once our young Cyril becomes a fearsome warrior and marches off to battle. I can only hope those two apply themselves to our archive search with the same enthusiasm they show toward bellringing!"

That comment met with much merriment among the Redwallers gathered around the table, and their laughter mingled with the pealing of the twin bells.

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Urhblood's tour of the Abbey did indeed take until the noon meal. He walked the entire ramparts of the perimeter wall, where he stopped frequently to gaze out over the battlements and scrutinize the lands that led up to Redwall in all directions. Next he visited Arlyn in his cottage by the main gate, at which point the retired Abbot mouse joined Alexander and young Winokur as their fellow tour guide for Urthblood. Foremole conducted the four of them through the underground tunnel system that connected many different parts of the Abbey grounds, then Balla showed them all the nooks and crannies of her beverage cellars. From there the tour went through Cavern Hole and up into Great Hall, Redwall's majestic gathering place for indoor feasts and celebrations, and thence up to the Infirmary and all the dormitory levels.

They visited the kitchens on their way back out to the lawns, where the tour ended with a climb to the top of the bell tower. Tall as it was, the tower only reached half as high as the steepled roof peak over the main Abbey. It was in those highest roof spaces that Highwing held court over the sparrowfolk, or Sparra, of Redwall. The enormous attic gallery was named Warbeak Loft, Urthblood learned, in honor of a Sparra queen who'd sacrificed herself in battle many seasons before to save Matthias, the warrior mouse who'd rediscovered the long-lost sword of Martin and defeated the dreaded searat Cluny the Scourge.

"There certainly is a great deal of history attached to your Abbey," Urthblood commented on hearing this latest tale as he stared out from the bell tower's open windows.

"That there is," affirmed old Abbot Arlyn. "More than enough to keep any ambitious historian occupied for a lifetime. Brother Geoff once tried to count the number of generations that have passed since Redwall was founded, based on the journals and diaries kept by the various recorders before him. He thinks it's over a hundred, but an exact count is probably impossible."

Urthblood nodded. "Can Warbeak Loft be accessed from inside the Abbey?"

"Not easily," answered Alexander. "There's a hatch door the birds can use to enter Great Hall, but for the most part the attic spaces are only safely accessible to flying creatures. In an extreme emergency, a squirrel such as myself could climb up from the outside, but it's no easy feat."

"I would consider that something of an architectural flaw," rumbled Urthblood observantly. "Why would your founders design Redwall so that neither this bell tower nor Warbeak Loft could be entered from within the safety of the main Abbey?"

"Um ... er ... " Nobeast at Redwall was accustomed to having the wisdom of their honored Abbey founders questioned in such an open manner. It left Arlyn and the others literally speechless.

"No matter. Such things can be corrected if need be."

Maura had wanted to be the one to show her fellow badger around Redwall, but some of the young ones had started acting rambunctious after breakfast, and her strong mother's paw had been required to settle them down. Vanessa joined Urthblood and his escorts for the indoor parts of the tour through the main Abbey, when she wasn't called away to oversee the various routine Abbey matters that always occupied the attentions of Redwall's Abbots and Abbesses.

The tour now complete, Urthblood joined all the Redwallers for lunch out in the orchard. The main course was, of course, Monty and the otters' shrimp and hotroot soup - two cauldrons' worth - plus varieties of fresh summer salads, plain and nutted cheeses, more breads from the ovens, and plenty of October ale to wash down the spicy soup. A carousel of several different kinds of fruit pie was wheeled out for those with a sweeter tooth, or who fancied a bite of dessert to follow the main meal.

The harmonious tolling of the twin Matthias and Methuselah bells heralded the start of the noontide meal. Since Geoff was still getting things in order down in the archives, he'd excused Cyril and Cyrus so that the mouse brothers could engage in their bellringing duties one last time before immersing themselves in the Abbey records.

The overhanging branches of the orchard's trees provided shady refuge from the hot summer sun, now almost directly overhead. The woodlanders took their meal at leisure; Urthblood ate with mechanical efficiency, commenting on the quality of the food and drink but giving no other sign of pleasure or enjoyment. He finished before most of the others, and strolled over to the edge of the orchard that afforded an idyllic view of the pond.

Monty, Geoff and the Abbess joined the badger warrior. A fish stirred in the distant pond, disturbing the surface with slow ripples that were as lazy as the summer day itself.

"Beautiful spot, isn't it?" Vanessa said. "I always loved coming here when I was a child, especially on hot days such as this. Just looking at the pond seems to cool a beast off."

Urthblood pointed over the pond to the walltop beyond. "If I were an enemy of Redwall laying siege to this Abbey, and I had large birds in my service, I would prepare bundles of strong posion and have my birds fly high over the wall, out of arrow range, and drop them into your pond, thereby destroying your source of drinking water."

The three Redwallers stared at him in mortified silence.

Urthblood nodded slowly to himself. "That is what I would do, if I were an enemy of Redwall." Apparently satisfied with this analysis and saying no more, the Badger Lord ambled off toward the gardens, leaving the other three gazing after him.

Montybank was the first to find his tongue. "Cheery fella, that 'un. Must'nt ferget to invite him to our next otter jamboree. He'll be th' life o' the party!"

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When lunch was fully over, Montybank and his otters put on a jousting exhibition for Lord Urthblood. Many Redwallers took a break from their afternoon tasks and duties to watch the display.

Forming a wide semicircle on the lawns near the main gate, the audience "ooed" and "ahhd" and applauded as Monty put his juniors through their paces with drills that were part javelin and quarterstaff duels and part acrobatic maneuvers. Urthblood watched the exercises with rapt intensity. He seemed thoroughly engrossed by the militaristic exhibition. It was the closest he'd come to having an out-and-out good time that any of the Redwallers had seen so far.

Alexander and his squirrel companion Elmwood walked over to Monty when the proceedings were concluded. "Trying to make us look bad, you old ruddertail?" he asked his otter friend with mock anger. "Grabbing all the glory for yourselves ... I'll bet we squirrels of the Forest Patrol could put on an archery display that would hold Lord Urthblood's attention just as well."

"Betcher could too, ol' chum." Monty was sweaty and breathing hard from his exertions. "But we thought of it first. Now, I'm off fer a splash an' a swim in th' pond. Awful hot in this sun, an' I daresn't offend, eh?" With that, he shot off toward the inviting coolness of the pond and dove in, Winokur and most of the other otters hot on his heels. The two squirrels stood watching them cavort for a bit, showing off their swimming skills for anybeast who cared to watch, or for nobeast at all.

"Elmwood," Alex said.

The other squirrel straightened to attention at the formal tone of command in Alexander's voice. They were old friends and both around the same age, but when Alex asserted his authority as head of the Mossflower Patrol, Elmwood was quick to fall in line. "Yes, sir?"

"Prepare some targets by the gardens, and pass word among the others of the Patrol. After dinner tonight, we'll put on a little show of our own."

"Yessir!"