CHAPTER SEVEN
Morning came once again to Redwall Abbey, filling the windows of the great building with sunlight and wakening the inhabitants with a great deal of reluctance. Many who were still bloated from the previous day's feast struggled to remove themselves from their beds, and even those with stronger stomachs were sympathetic to the moaning Redwallers being shaken awake by their families and friends.
Like any other day, Abbot Peromus was the first up and about, despite also taking some time going about it. He checked his little garden and then wandered back to the abbey building, to help prepare for breakfast, although it was only to be a light one today: bread and jam was the main spread, the kitchens expecting the abbey dwellers to still be processing the food from yesterday. They were mostly right, with many not even bothering with breakfast.
Abbot Peromus managed some buttered toast and a herbal tea, but was quite full afterwards. Sister Bula mentioned that she would be spending the day with her brother, Kitch, down in the cellars. Kitch was the Abbey's brewery master and cellar keeper, the otter responsible for the continued creation of Bardon's Cider, which had been invented by his and Bula's great grandfather. As he could not remember the last time he had held a sufficiently long conversation with Kitch, Abbot Peromus decided to join her.
Located beneath the kitchens and its larders in the southwest corner of the abbey building, the cellars were deceivingly large. Over the years, the industrious capacity of the mole population at Redwall had seen massive growth to the originally fairly small underground area, to provide space for more great vats and barrels of beverages. In fact, Foremole, whose real name was Dubgar, was also present when Abbot Peromus and Sister Bula arrived, covering up the back wall with some large planks of wood.
'Gudd mornin' zurr an' marm,' he said gruffly in his rough molespeech. 'Ol' Kitch be in back. Cumm on, oi'll show 'ee.'
The cellars were in fact made up of five rooms, so as not to damage the foundation supports for the kitchens. From the main cellar area, three doorways were present along the left wall, leading to a cellar each for the brewing and storage of ciders, ales and wines. The fifth room was accessible through the one furthest along the wall, which contained ciders, and the fifth cellar was where Bardon's Cider was brewed. Its creator, Bardon Roving, had requested the expansion due to the large export quantities of the famous drink.
'Burr, Kitch, ee ol' Abbot an' yurr sister be 'ere,' Foremole Dubgar called out as he entered the Bardon Cellar.
Kitch was a lovable middle-aged otter, a couple of seasons Bula's junior, very handsome but just as cheeky; a reputation that Bula found incomprehensible in a father. The similarity, however, between Kitch and his son, the infamous Rogg, was uncanny.
'Mornin'!' grinned Kitch, emerging from behind a stack of kegs piled up in the far corner. ''Ow's yore food factories coping?'
'Don't start,' said Bula sternly. 'I don't know how you can stay so unaffected by it all.'
'Stamina, me beauty, stamina,' said Kitch.
'Burr, that be a pack o' loies,' perked up Foremole. ''Yurr 'ardly et nought, 'ee did!'
Kitch rounded on his mole friend. 'More'n I can say fer you, greedy guts!' he laughed, prodding Foremole's large stomach. 'The Redwall kitchens 'ardly need to wash the dishes wi' you around!'
'Least oi can take it, you beem jus' starvin' yerself! Pitch furr pitchfork 'ee shud be callin' you, it be 'bout your soize!'
'Pitch?' chuckled Kitch, 'least I ain't a lardbelly, Gutbar!'
Whilst this had been going on, Abbot Peromus and Sister Bula had been exchanging exhaustive glances. Eventually, Peromus put an end to the squabble.
'I don't see what difference it makes, really!' he cried. 'Whatever Pitch doesn't eat Gutbar can!' He paused, suddenly realising his mistake. 'I mean, whatever Kitch doesn't eat, Dubgar can! Now, Pi...ahem, Kitch, why don't you show us what you've been doing so far this morning?'
Kitch pointed over at a small pile of barrels that he and Dubgar had been rolling into the corner of the room near the door, ready to then be taken up onto the lawns. 'Gettin' ready for the seasonal deliveries,' he said, before beckoning Dubgar to assist him in moving the final barrel. The two abbey elders watched the cellar master and his friend pivot a barrel near the back of the cellar down from its high spot onto the floor, and then carefully rolling the large wooden casket down the aisles between the rows of barrels towards the selection piling up, now numbering ten in total.
'Right, why don't you two make yourself useful?' Kitch said to his sister and the Abbot. 'Could you start markin' the barrels?' He pointed to an old bookcase that had been moved down to the cellars for official usage. 'Use the stencils on the top shelf to mark all the barrels on the side near the top, and use the ones on the next shelf down on the first seven barrels. They're for Elmlow.'
'And the other three?' enquired the Abbot.
Kitch grinned. 'Why, they're fer us Redwallers!'
Abbot Peromus and Sister Bula set about marking all the barrels with the distinct logo of Bardon's Cider, a beaker with the letter "B" emblazoned on it, and then the first seven with the word "Elmlow". When they were finished, Kitch and Dubgar rolled the marked seven out of the cellars onto the lawn, with Peromus and Bula helping where possible. Once the other three had been carefully stored in Redwall's own storage cellar, Kitch locked up the cellars and started loading the barrels onto a small cart with help from Dubgar.
'Normally Vera helps us out with this lot,' said Kitch as they loaded the final barrel onto the cart. 'I wonder where she is?'
As if by magic, as soon as the words left Kitch's lips, Mother Vera emerged from the abbey building. Upon sighting Abbot Peromus, she walked over to him.
'Father Abbot, I've been looking all over for you!' she said. 'I don't know if you heard about our visitor last night?'
Abbot Peromus looked rightfully bemused. 'Visitor?'
'Yes,' continued Mother Vera, 'a fox by the name of Gibb Dartag, who called not long after the Long Patrol left. Apparently he is the former captain of a ship,' she added pointedly, widening her eyes as if trying to send a secret message to the abbot by her mind. It did not take long for the Abbot to receive it.
'You don't think...the ship Colonel Windscut was talking about yesterday?'
'I'm not sure,' said Mother Vera honestly, shaking her head as if to denounce what she had just said. 'But it does seem an odd coincidence. Do you think we should send a runner after the regiment? Let them know about our guest?'
The Abbot thought for a moment, then concurred with Vera's suggestion. 'Send Joss,' he said, referring to the squirrel bell ringer. 'Brother Caldo can take over her duties temporarily. She's a swift runner, as well as a champion tree-swinger. By the way, where is this Gibb Dartag?'
'Playing with the Dibbuns over by the pond,' she said, and noting the look of horror on the Abbot's face added, 'he's being watched over by Brother Arden and a couple of the masters-at-arms.'
The masters-at-arms were a product of one of the last wars to befall Redwall Abbey. Redwall's history was pockmarked with many battles and dark times, where champions had been called upon by the spirit of Martin the Warrior, one of the founders of the abbey, to take up his sword and defend the building from its enemies. The penultimate Champion of Redwall, an otter by the name of Norhilt, who found his calling many seasons ago during a great siege, had appointed and trained a group of individuals who supported him as battle commanders and fighters, called masters-at-arms. Following the end of the siege, and the start of the Great Peace, Norhilt decided to keep the group of eight trained soldiers, even after he hung up the great broadsword of Martin the Warrior. Over the years, the masters-at-arms became a sort of small guard for the abbey, often helping out with important chores that would not usually be able to be done by the Brothers and Sisters.
Vera Saxonos walked back to the abbey building to try and find Joss, whilst the abbot decided to wander over to the pond, saying his farewells to Sister Bula, Kitch and Foremole. As he approached the north wall to the dormitories, he could already hear the sound of shouting Dibbuns, the stressed voice of Brother Arden, two angry gruff voices and another, a seafaring voice that sounded like he was enjoying himself. Concerned, Abbot Peromus sped up his pace and soon came into view of the pond, where he was greeted with a rather unusual sight.
Standing on the edge of the pond was Brother Arden, shouting instructions at the two master-at-arms', who were waist deep in the water, trying to figure out what to do. In the middle of the pond, the rowing boat had been skilfully and artistically redesigned, clearly a collaboration of the mind of Captain Gibb Dartag and the youngsters: a mast had been affixed to the middle of the boat, and a jib strung across that, with a plank running along one side, creating a sort of diving board. The whole thing had been painted with random patterns and the name Brown Barnacle written on the bow. Gibb Dartag was helping the Dibbuns up onto the planks on the mast, who were all dressed in typical pirate gear, and throwing themselves off the boat into the water.
Taking one look at the scene that was in front of him, Abbot Peromus puffed out his chest and, with a concerted effort to assert his benevolence, shouted at the top of his voice;
'WHAT IN THE NAME OF MARTIN IS GOING ON?'
At the sound of the Father Abbot, all beings in proximity stopped and turned towards him. The Dibbuns in the water hurried back onboard the boat, and the two masters-at-arms attempted to stand to attention in the pond.
'Masters Simm and Pax, get out of the water and join Brother Arden by the jetty!' he commanded irritably before rounding on the vessel. 'As for all of those on the boat, you are to sail that...that thing back to the jetty and disembark! All you Dibbuns will be facing an early bath, an early night and no dinner!' He spied Gibb Dartag, who had paused still with a young hedgehog on his back, and his face was the picture of pain.
'As for you...whatever your name is,' the Abbot continued, 'I want a word with you right this instant!'
All parties involved went about doing the Abbot's bidding. Once the Dibbuns were off the boat, they were rounded up by Master Simm and Brother Arden and escorted off to the dormitories, where they would spend the rest of their day. As they were led off, the Abbot was not in the least bit surprised at catching sight of the ringleaders: Rogg and Zack. They were the only ones brave enough to chance a sheepish glance up at the Abbot as they walked by, who waited until they were gone before smiling and shaking his head.
'We did try to stop them before they set sail,' said Brother Arden, appearing next to the Abbot, watching the Dibbuns being led off into the Abbey via the east entrance by Master Simm. 'It all sort of happened so fast. We saw the mast go up and the ropes loosed off and then they were floating into the middle of the pond!'
Abbot Peromus turned to look at Brother Arden. 'I don't blame you old friend,' he said. 'I think the main leader here is our new resident.' As he said this, he turned to watch Master Pax, a heavy-set hedgehog, standing guard over Gibb Dartag, who was sat in the shade of a large willow by the pond's edge. The abbot walked off to join them, whilst Brother Arden went off to supervise the lecture that would be given to the Dibbuns.
Gibb Dartag saw Abbot Peromus approaching, and stood.
'You know, I don't like being strict,' the Abbot started before coming to a halt in front of Gibb. 'Particularly to young ones, who are after all only following a youthful instinct. But you, sir, should know better!' Gibb was about to speak when Abbot Peromus cut him off, pacing up and down in front of him. 'You should be ashamed of yourself! Whilst I do not usually mind some of the mischief that our youngsters get up to, what I do mind is when their safety is put at risk! Especially when supervised by an adult! Somebeast could have been seriously injured! Or drowned! You showed a total lack of responsibility by doing what you were doing, and I've a good mind to throw you out of my abbey!' Abbot Peromus stopped and looked up at the considerably taller Gibb.
'Can I just say...' said Gibb, '...hello.'
Master Pax stifled a laugh. The Abbot shot him an icy glare.
'This is not funny, Mr...'
'Dartag. Cap'n Gibb Dartag. An' can I say, yer grace, wot a magnificen' building you have 'ere in Redwall Abbey...'
'...well, thank you...'
'...an' that I 'ave not known such gracious hospitality in all me years as a pirate...'
'...well, I am glad to hear that, however...'
'...an' that I am sorry fer putting yer young 'uns at risk.'
'...you showed a total...' The abbot paused. 'Hold on, what did you say?'
Gibb Dartag bowed his head. 'I'm sorry if I put any of yer young 'uns in 'arm's way. I though' I had the situation under control, and clearly I didn'. Fer that, I apologise.'
Abbot Peromus stared in dumb shock at the humility shown by the fox, who had his head bowed and was staring uncomfortably at his footpaws. He turned to look at Master Pax, who shrugged, also bemused. There was a short pause, until Gibb looked at the Abbot.
'And, yer 'onour, please don't kick me out?' he pleaded. 'I don' fink I'd survive a day without your vittles. At least, I wouldn't want to!'
This brought a smile to the abbot's face.
'Very well, Mr Dartag, I will not throw you out,' Abbot Peromus said. 'However, I think that you should know that for every rule broken, or irresponsibility shown, there is a punishment, even for elder beasts.'
'Very wise yer grace. Tight ship – I like it.'
The Abbot eyed Dartag into silence before continuing. 'I cannot make exceptions for you simply because you are new,' he said, starting to pace again. 'However, I will make sure that the punishment is softened somewhat because you only arrived last night and have not had ample time to read the Abbey Charter.' The abbot stopped, contemplating his decision. 'As it happens, today is the day that a consignment of Bardon's Cider is delivered to Elmlow. You will assist our cellarkeeper, Kitch, and Foremole and his team in the delivery. Master Pax here will show you where to go.'
The hedgehog walked forward and pointed out a path in front of the fox, who followed it. The pair wandered off around the abbey building towards the front lawns.
Abbot Peromus walked down onto the jetty that jutted out into the pond, and stopped by the boat. It certainly wasn't the same boat anymore, and just as the abbot was considering asking Skipper Yeola to build a new one, he realised something. In the space of a morning, a lot of work had been done on the little rowing boat. The mast hadn't been clumsily jammed into place – rather, brackets had been secured firmly to the deck, the mast then secured to them: holes that had been created by the work of taking out the old seats had been packed with sealant, and new seats had been added at the stern of the boat, creating a platform above and a storage area underneath. Although the handiwork itself had some rough edges, Abbot Peromus was taken aback at just how much had been done on the boat, especially given the time restraints. Looking down the bank, he saw what looked like some sort of work area, with what looked like Brother Caldo's toolbox.
The Father Abbot went and got the toolbox to give back to Brother Caldo, all the while silently marvelling at the carpentry skills of their newest resident.
