Chapter Four

Four days later, Vanessa took the chick back up to the Infirmary to have his wing splint removed. Sister Marisol spent all morning at the task, meticulous and caring in her work. The bird was clearly eager to have the restrictive sling off, but the old healer mouse wanted to make sure she wasn't removing it too soon. After Marisol had painstakingly stripped away the bandages and slipped off the splint, she inspected the injured area from all angles, going so far as to feel around the base of every feather along the length of the wing. There was no way the young Sparra would have allowed anybeast to examine him so thoroughly had it not been for Vanessa, who stayed at his side the entire time with calming words and comforting pats.

Once the close examination was over, Sister Marisol had the chick lift and lower his wings repeatedly to test their range of movement, then walk up and down the length of the Infirmary several times to see how the wounded wing would affect his gait. At one point the bird seemed to think Marisol was asking him to fly, and began flapping his wings so quickly that both mice had to take hold of him to keep him from putting too much stress on his mending injury.

"My word!" exclaimed Vanessa, "I think he'd take off right now if we weren't here to hold him down!"

Sister Marisol grimaced. "That wing might not bother him too much when he walks, but I doubt it will ever be any good for flying. Nothing to be done for it now. As long as the bone has knit right and doesn't cause him any pain, there's no reason he can't live out his full measure of seasons in comfort down here with us."

Vanessa sniffed the air. "Whatever is Friar Hugh doing? Those aromas wafting up from the kitchens almost make me think he's preparing some kind of feast!"

Marisol hid a smile. "Shouldn't be surprised if he is. You know how our dear Friar gets in the dead of winter. He'll whip up a feast just to keep himself from getting bored!"

"Well, breakfast this morning was certainly sparse enough," Vanessa said sourly. "I was going to sneak back to the kitchens myself for a few extra bites, but Sister Grace warned me that Hugh had something special in mind for lunch today and I ought to keep out of his way."

Marisol glanced out the Infirmary windows. "It's almost noontide, so our rumbling tummies won't have much longer to wait, I'm sure. I want to give our bird friend here another couple of strolls across the Infirmary, then we'll head down to Great Hall. If he can make it down those stairs without too much of a problem, I'll be satisfied that I wasn't premature in removing the wing splint."

The chick was visibly happy when Marisol and Vanessa finally led him out into the hall; he'd grown tired of winglifts and pacing back and forth over the same stretch of Infirmary floor. He managed the spiral staircase without much trouble at all, although the two mice walked him down carefully, alert to lend a paw if he should falter on the stone steps.

At last they came off the stairs into Great Hall. Vanessa, intent upon the bird as she was, looked up and then looked up again; she needed the second glance to fully absorb the sight before her.

Great Hall was set up for a full celebratory feast!

The low winter sun slanting through the stained glass windows illuminated a festive scene. Redwall's largest gathering place was festooned with colorful streamers and banners, and every table stood trimmed with the finery of a full Abbey celebration. Dishes worthy of a Nameday feast sat upon the tables already, even as more were being carted out by Friar Hugh's kitchen staff. The savory mingled aromas of so many splendid offerings was almost overwhelming.

"Oh, my ... whatever is going on here?" Vanessa asked.

Abbot Arlyn had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "Why, isn't is obvious, my child?" the reverent old mouse smiled benevolently. "We're having a feast!"

"But ... what's the occasion?"

"What's the occasion, she asks?" The Abbot's smile became a foolish grin. "Why, you are, of course!"

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And so, for the second time that winter season, the Abbey of Redwall was host to a grand feast.

Being the dead of winter, there was no fresh fruit or salad to be had, but this shortcoming hardly prevented Friar Hugh from preparing a memorable spread. All manner of breads had been baked using the Abbey's substantial stocks of milled flour: sweet moist spicebreads; coarse bread with whole and chopped nuts baked in; soft loaves coated with seeds; honeybread studded with bits of dried fruit; garlic and onion bread; and the Friar's specialty, smooth white bread with nuggets of yellow cheese melted inside. Dried watershrimp and hotroot were brewed into a large crock of the spicy soup so popular with the otters, while other dried vegetables were used in a thick stew with dumplings. Dried fruits, along with a whole host of jams and preserves, were baked into scones, pasties, fritters, trifles, and an especially savory raspberry seedcake. An enormous gooseberry crumble with nutmeg cream was the centerpiece of the dessert tray, supported by an assortment of acorn crunch, candied chestnuts, honeyglazed pears, custards and puddings. Wheels and wedges of cheese - red, white and yellow, plain or with nuts - were placed at every table. Beverages included October ale and varieties of wines for the grownups, berry fizz for the youngsters, and hot mint tea for anybeast who wanted it.

It was safe to say that no Redwaller would leave the tables that day feeling hungry.

As the twin guests of honor, Vanessa and the sparrow chick were seated at the Abbot's left paw at the center table. Since chairs and benches were not designed for a bird's posterior, the young Sparra's seat consisted of a large wicker basket piled with enough blankets to bring his head up to a comfortable table level for partaking in the feast. And he wasted no time in pecking away at whatever fare was placed before him, sampling a little bit of everything.

Halfway through the festivities, Sister Marisol stood up at the Abbot's side. "If I could have everybeast's attention! Attention, please!" All eyes turned her way, while the laughter and conversation subsided to a low murmur.

"Now, then," the Infirmary keeper went on, "we're all gathered here to honor our brave mousemaid Vanessa, and this Sparra chick who benefitted from her bravery. We've all given her our cheers and toasts. Now, with our Abbot's permission, I'd like to honor Vanessa in my own way."

Abbot Arlyn smiled and nodded consent; he already knew what she had in mind. "Do go on, Sister Marisol."

Marisol had been fumbling for something in her habit robes; now she held it up for all to see. Vanessa, recognizing the object immediately, flushed slightly with embarrassment, but still had to grin in spite of herself.

"Eight days ago," Marisol announced, holding high the battered old item of footpaw-wear, "this sandal was but one half of a worn old pair of mine that I'd almost forgotten I owned. Today, however, it is now a respected and honored weapon, wielded in battle by this brave mousemaid in defense of another, and retrieved from the field of conflict by our dear Alexander. And so, in keeping with the Redwall tradition of honoring our courageous warriors and their regal weapons, I shall now display this in its proper hallowed place of dignity."

With an exaggerated air of pomp and solemnity, Marisol strode slowly across the floor toward a spot along one wall of Great Hall, holding the battered old sandal out before her like some sacred relic. Several of the Abbey children tittered and giggled at such silliness, and even many of the grownups could not wholly suppress their chuckles.

Marisol halted. Before her hung the ancient sword and shield of Martin the Warrior, the legendary mouse who had helped the good creatures of Mossflower defeat the wildcat tyrants of an age long past so that Redwall could be built. Martin was the Abbey's most revered historical figure, and it was often said that his spirit watched over and protected all Redwallers, through good times and bad. His venerable arms, the very ones he'd used in that ancient war, hung on display in Great Hall; they were among the most treasured of the Abbey's possessions. It had been many, many seasons since any Redwaller had needed to pick up those arms against an enemy. Now they served mostly as reminders of a more glorious - and more perilous - age gone by.

With a grand flourish, Sister Marisol looped the sandal's thong over one of the brackets holding the sword, leaving the shoe dangling beneath the splendid blade.

She turned back around to face her audience, paws raised high. "There, it's done! A valued addition to Redwall's armory!"

Cheers and laughter broke out, and nearly everybeast in Great Hall applauded heartily. Marisol's performance had proven the perfect entertainment, honoring Vanessa and amusing the feastgoers at the same time.

The Infirmary keeper returned to the main table, giving a bow and a courtsey to the delighted Redwallers before resuming her seat. "That's for you, too," she said to Vanessa. "Stand up and take a bow."

Vanessa blushed more deeply than before. She stood, nodded once, and sat down again, all so quickly that anybeast who'd blinked might have missed it.

Then, thinking better of this opportunity to command the attention of all her fellow Abbeydwellers, Vanessa got to her feet a second time and addressed those around her. Clearing her throat, she began tremulously, "The last time we were all gathered together for a feast such as this - back when I was just a simple novice mousemaid and not the celebrated hero that I am now - was for this season's Nameday. Well, I propose that we make this a Nameday celebration too.

"I have been told that the task of choosing a name for this Sparra must fall to me. And I have been badgered - no pun intended, Maura! - I've been badgered constantly by a few of you who are clamoring to know what name I'm going to pick. You fussbottoms know who you are - Alex, Monty! Well, clamor no more. I've made my decision, and what better place to announce it than this feast, where my new sparrow friend is my fellow honoree?"

Vanessa took one wingtip of the Sparra chick and lifted it high. The baby bird had been engrossed in devouring a plate of candied chestnuts, but now all his attention was on his favorite mousemaid.

"I hereby dub thee ... Highwing, Sparra of Redwall!"

The cheering and applause was even more thunderous than before. Some of the Redwallers - chiefly otters and squirrels, along with many of the Guosim shrews - shouted boisterously, "Yea, Highwing! Here's to Highwing!" and hoisted their mugs accordingly in salute.

"A wise and noble choice," Abbot Arlyn told Vanessa, "although I suspect you were thinking about his broken wing, which has set higher than the other, when you chose that name. I only hope it will not prove a burden to this creature as he goes through life, bearing a name that calls attention to his malady, and the fact that he will probably never be able to fly."

"Yes, I did consider that," said Vanessa, regarding the sparrow at her side. "But this is the right name for him. I know it ... I feel it ... "

The Sparra chick, already nonchalant about the attention focused upon him, casually went back to pecking at his candied chestnuts.

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As the feast was winding down, and the fading daylight coming in through the stained glass windows was replaced by the warm glow of torches and lamps, Vanessa and Geoff took Highwing over to the wall to show him the Warrior's sword and shield - and now, sandal! - more closely.

Near these weapons hung the Abbey's other prized treasure, the great tapestry. Started several generations after the founding of Redwall, the brightly embroidered work stood as tall as several beasts, and featured a colorful depiction of Martin the Warrior in his full glory during the wildcat wars. Although none who'd had a paw in the making of the tapestry had known Martin personally, it was said that they'd captured the essence and likeness of Redwall's founding mouse warrior perfectly.

When the sparrow and the two mice had beheld both sword and shield for long enough to suit their interest, they shifted over to stand before the tapestry. Maura the badger ambled over to join them in their contemplation of the ornate wall hanging, taking a break from her supervision of the younger Abbey children.

Vanessa was pointing up at the tapestry for the benefit of the Sparra chick. "See there, Highwing? That's Martin the Warrior. Can you say Martin? Try it with me ... Martin ... Martin ... Maaarrrtinnn ... "

"I'm afraid you're probably wasting your breath, Nessa," the big badger rumbled. "Sparra aren't known for their eloquence. And one this young - "

Maura was interrupted by Highwing, who chirped in a clear singsong voice with perfect pronunciation, "Martin!"

"Well, I ... " Maura was clearly taken aback. "I do believe I owe you an apology, Vanessa. And your birdfriend too. What a perfect little mimic!"

"Martin!" Highwing cheeped.

"Yes, that's very good." Vanessa patted Highwing on the back of the neck. "Very, very good."

"Martin! Martin! ... "

Geoff covered his ears. "Um, that's all very well. Now we'll have to teach him some other words. Hey, Highwing - " Geoff rapped lightly on the bird's beak to make him shut up, " - don't you know any other words, you wayward featherbag? You're wearing that one out!"

Highwing looked up into Geoff's face for several moments, then burst out joyfully, "Pinky!"

Geoff's paws came up to his nose. "Oh, no ... Vanessa, you taught him that!"

"I never did!" the mousemaid declared earnestly, laughing as she did so. "It must have been Alex, or Monty. We've all taken turns birdsitting him down in Cavern Hole."

"Pinky! Pinky!" Highwing cheeped happily.

"You, you stop that!" Geoff ordered the sparrow, trying to put on a stern and admonishing tone.

He might as well have tried arguing with the wind. Highwing danced about in one spot like a feathered dervish, flapping his wings and merrily singing, "PinkyPinkyPinky!"

"Great. Just great." Geoff covered his bright pink nose with both paws and stormed off, thoroughly mortified and humiliated. Alexander and Montybank, drawn by the commotion, approached Vanessa from the opposite way. "Hey, what's the ruckus?" the squirrel called out.

"PinkyPinky!" Highwing greeted for her.

Alex glanced toward Geoff's retreating back. "Ah, so that's what that was all about. I thought ol' dustywhiskers looked a bit deflated!" He turned to his otter companion. "Well, Monty, seems your student picked up on your lessons quite nicely."

Maura smirked at Montybank. "Should've known it was this ruddertailed troublemaker who was behind this. I'm glad you're an adult now, Monty - if I had to be your nursemaid for one season more, it'd put more gray in my fur than I could stand!"

"Pinky!" Highwing trilled, trying to keep all the attention on himself.

Montybank squatted down alongside the spirited chick and playfully ruffled Highwing's neck feathers. "Oo, yore so well spoke, a bird after me own 'eart! Jus' lissen t'yer Uncle Monty, an' I'll learn ya all y'needs t'know 'ereabouts!"

Vanessa and Maura both rolled their eyes toward the ceiling.