Chapter Ninety
Another Nameday had come to Redwall Abbey!
The cloudy night, with its dark blanket of puffy, furrowed floating formations drifting across moon and stars to obscure the celestial lights, caused some concern on the part of the Abbeybeasts, who were looking forward to the traditional outdoor summer Nameday celebration. Comfort was taken in the fact that Balla and the other hedgehogs felt no storm in their spikes, so a heavy rain seemed unlikely. Still, a great sigh of relief went up when the morning dawned bright and clear, with a fresh breeze and crystal sunshine dispersing the cloud cover to scattered patches of innocent white banners trimming a rich blue sky.
While Friar Hugh and his army of helpers toiled in the kitchens, putting the finishing touches on the feast's numerous culinary offerings, the rest of the Abbey's residents and guests helped themselves to bowls of candied nuts and trays of sliced cheese that had been put out in Great Hall, along with pitchers of cool mint tea and sweet apple cider. Afterwards, everybeast pitched in to set up the tables and benches out in the orchard; now that the tenuous overnight clouds had been banished by the strong summer sun, it looked as if taking their food and drink under the trees' shade would be the necessary order of the day.
Two extra sets of tables and benches had been fashioned for this occasion by the Abbey carpenters, and it was well that they had; the unanticipated arrival of Tolar's entire swordfox brigade would have presented a seating challenge otherwise. There was some debate about bringing up the big table from Cavern Hole, but in the end it was decided that they could get by without it. Seating might be a bit tight and there might be some rubbing of elbows, but Namedays at Redwall were always about sharing and togetherness, after all. This season, the feastgoers would just be a little more together than usual.
The hard work helped build appetites and keep the eagerly anticipating woodlanders occupied until the feast was ready to be served. To keep the children (and Vanessa) entertained and out of the way, Tolar agreed to put his squad through some mock drills on the north lawns, using wood swords instead of their real blades. Maura stood by to make sure there was no trouble, but the youngsters were thoroughly enraptured by the lightning-fast duels, and were soon placing wagerless bets amongst themselves on which foxes would win which contests. Even Vanessa, Droge and Budsock sat engrossed in this display, too caught up in the action to think about causing mischief.
"I bet Mista Grayspeck's gonna whip Mista Goldtip!"
"Maybe, but Mister Halfear could beat 'em both!"
"No way, Nessa! Grayspeck's th' best!"
"What about Mista Blue-eyes against Mista Three-toes?"
"Aw, no contest! Blue-eyes could even beat Splitear!"
"You mean Halfear, don'tcha?"
"No, Halfear's over there, an' Splitear's right here. They're two diff'rent foxes!"
"What about Three-toes 'gainst Mista Limpy?"
"Which one? There's two Mista Limpy's ... "
The children were of course not using any of the foxes' real names; with nearly fifty of the swordsbeasts visiting the Abbey, it was all they could do just to tell Tolar and Roxroy apart from the rest. They found it far easier to pick out some small distinguishing physical feature or characteristic about each fox - no small feat, given their identical black uniforms and similar regimental bearing - and assign them their own names based on these observations. The labels weren't always the most flattering ones, but if the swordfoxes were bothered by the youngsters' verbal fun at all, they were too professional to show it.
Only two foxes duelled at any one time, giving the others a chance to stand back and relax as they watched, but it was still hot under the early summer sun. Even the youthful audience found themselves getting tired and sweaty just from the excitement of cheering on their favored combatants. When at last Cyril and Cyrus tolled the bells to announce the commencement of the feast, everybeast on the north lawns was more than ready to retire to the welcoming shade of the orchard where they could cool off and recharge their spent energies.
The feastgoers quickly seated themselves, not wanting to delay the naming of the season or the subsequent outpouring of food and drink for one moment longer than necessary. The foxes took a table for their own slightly apart from the others, preferring aloofness to a central position as any kind of guests of honor. The exceptions were Tolar and Mona, who were reserved places at the head table with Arlyn and some of the other Abbey leaders, and Roxroy, who was delighted to rub shoulders with Winokur at one of the woodlanders' tables. Otherwise, all species sat as they wished, moles with mice and squirrels with hedgehogs and hares with otters in no special order at all.
Vanessa was bade to sit at the head table at Arlyn's right paw, over her objections. She'd wanted to sit with the "other" children, and seemed at a total loss as to why the Abbey leaders would want her to take her Nameday feast among them.
"Is this some kind of punishment?" she asked wide-eyed in all seriousness.
"Not at all," the venerable old Abbot assured her with a fatherly pat on her shoulder as Maura herded her toward the leaders' table. "It's just that we don't know how we could possibly get through this celebration without having your effervescent personality at the center of things to inspire us all!"
"Effer ... effervessa ... "
"It means you're a little rip!" Maura mildly chastised from over her shoulder. "Now if you can bring yourself to behave for just this one day and not make the Abbot regret bestowing this honor upon you, we'll all appreciate it, and maybe you'll get an extra fine dessert out of this ... "
"Dessert?" The mention of this seemed to unsettle Vanessa. "What about dessert?"
"Don't you worry, my child," Arlyn reassured her, "Friar Hugh made plenty of desserts to go around, so you'll be sure to get your share ... "
"As if she didn't know that already," Maura snorted, "since she was helping out in the kitchens these past two days. And from what I hear, she actually made herself useful without causing a catastrophe, miracle of miracles!"
At last they were all seated, fox and woodlander, child and adult and oldster, revered Abbey leader and simple goodbeast, every creature awaiting the pronouncement of the name this season would bear. For those who had experienced many Redwall Namedays before, the anticipation was no less than for those swordfoxes and youngbeasts and former slaves who had never witnessed such an occasion before.
Arlyn stood to address everybeast around him. "Before I get to the preliminary benediction and naming of this summer, I have a few ... um, preliminary preliminary statements to make. So much has been going on around Mossflower this past season, I almost don't know where to begin. I can certainly say that Brother Geoff and Winokur and I had no shortage of material from which to draw when we were composing our prayer verse for today!"
The old mouse gestured toward the table of foxes on the fringes of the gathering, then to Tolar and Mona. "First of all, a special welcome to our newest neighbors. Tolar and Roxroy have been with us for Nameday before, but the rest of their brigade including all their young cadets have not - indeed, yesterday was the very first time many of them had laid eyes upon our Abbey or set foot within our walls. And after the recent losses they suffered during that unfortunate incident at Foxguard last season, they deserve the best of Redwall's hospitality that we can offer them. Just glance over our east wall and you will see ample evidence with your own eyes that not even Snoga's cowardly and murderous band could defeat Mossflower's newest defenders nor deflect them from their purpose. Foxguard rose in spite of those villains' nefarious best efforts, thanks to the dedication and single-minded fortitude of these valiant swordsbeasts and their Northlands helpers. Thus is Redwall joined by a second bastion of peace and order, an architectural marvel unlike any that has ever been seen in Mossflower before, and quite possibly anywhere else in the world. May Foxguard stand in partnership with us for a thousand seasons, and a thousand beyond that, watching over these lands for the good of all creatures."
Tolar returned Arlyn's benevolent gaze with a placid smile. "That is certainly my own hope, Abbot."
Arlyn looked toward the next table over, where Grayfoot sat with Judelka, bouncing Percival on his knee. "And Foxguard is not the only new habitation to rise in our midst this past season. Captain, I know you plan to return to your tavern with your family after our festivities here are concluded, but I sincerely hope this will not be your last Nameday with us. We have all grown quite fond of Percy, and will miss him once he leaves. All three of you will have an open invitation to visit us whenever you wish, and to stay for as long as your circumstances allow. I hope those visits will be more frequent than just once a season."
"Thank you, Abbot," the ferret replied. "You folks've already showed me 'n' mine more hospitality than we coulda asked fer. I'll be busy gettin' things up an' runnin' down there fer awhile, o' course, but I'll keep yer invitation in mind, an' take you up on it when I can."
"Splendid. Last but by no means least, I believe Colonel Clewiston and Melanie have an announcement to make before we get started, so I'll turn this over to them." The Abbot sat while Clewiston, seated with his wife several places away from Arlyn at the same table, stood to face the large gathering.
"Well, no use beatin' 'round th' bally bush 'bout this," the Long Patrol commander said, "an' some o' you have figured it out on your own already, so I'll just come right out an' jolly well say it: me an' Mel are gonna be parents - her for th' third time 'n' me for th' first."
Cheers and applause greeted this news, not least from some of the other hares who'd already guessed what Clewiston was going to say. The coming of a new life into the Abbey population was always cause for celebration, but for the Long Patrol, eager to increase their numbers, this was an especial reason to rejoice.
Clewiston sat back down, blushing ever so slightly about the ears, and Melanie patted his knee for a job well done. Arlyn rose once more.
"Well, I suppose there are more things that could be said, but we will have plenty of time to say them to each other over our meal. So, without further ado, the moment you've all been waiting for." Arlyn cleared his throat, then commenced his recitation.
"Friends and guests, let us join as one
Shaded here from the summer sun.
Joy and peace upon everybeast
As we sit down to share this feast.
Former slave and orphan poor,
Now part of our family evermore.
May strife and sorrow stay away
On this and every future day.
New lives will this season see,
Babes to fill our hearts with glee.
While to our south just down the road
A ferret true makes his abode.
And to the east, greatest of all
A redstone wonder proud and tall.
A new neighbor to guard the land,
Redwall and Foxguard together stand.
So welcome now at this hour,
The Summer of the Red Tower!"
Everybeast applauded anew, although a number of the swordfoxes sitting off at their own table looked somewhat embarrassed at being the sudden center of attention.
"That was a nice little poem," Vanessa remarked to Arlyn as he seated himself for the final time. "I think every Nameday should start that way."
He smiled at her. "I borrowed the idea from a very good friend of mine. A very clever young mouse of whom I'm quite fond ... "
"Anybeast I'd know?" Vanessa asked.
Arlyn's smile turned wistful. "No. Not at the moment, no."
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If Friar Hugh's intent had been to impress and overwhelm the visiting swordfoxes with the gastronomical riches his kitchen was capable of producing, he succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. Tolar, Roxroy and Sappakit all knew what to expect, having stayed at the Abbey recently or been present at previous Nameday feasts, but for the rest - especially the young cadets - the experience was an astounding one.
Which was not to say that the other feastgoers were any less awed by the culinary wealth on display that day. Far from it.
"Mmm, this raspberry honeybread is to die for!"
"Well, I'm gonna die if nobeast keeps that sweetmeadow custard away from me! Die happy, that is!"
"Watch you don't burn your lips or tongue on this celery and cream soup - it's piping hot!"
"It sure is delicious! But do we really need mad hot dishes in the midst of a heat wave?"
"Aw, ain't nothin' wrong with a liddle heat an' spiciness in yore food, any time o' year! Just do what this riverdog does, an' wash it down with some o' this wonderful cool mint tea!"
"Much prefer a jolly ol' jug o' this spankin' October ale, wot?"
"Aye, an' goes good with this shrimp an' hotroot soup too!"
"Well, I'll just stick with getting my shrimp in these dreamy mellow cheese and watercress pasties!"
"I'm getting so full on this redcurrant teabread and buttered acorn apple bread, I don't see how I'll have room for any of the deeper'n'ever pie!"
"Burr hurr, marm, thurr allers be room for poie!"
"The herbs and spices in this dressing for the lettuce, radish and rhubarb salad is simply heavenly!"
"Hooray for carrot cake, wot wot wot!"
"Would you please be so kind as to pass me that pitcher of elderberry cordial?"
"Why, of course, Abbot. Elderberry for the elder!"
"Can't decide which I like better - this wild-cherry flan, that bilberry pudding or that honeycream damson whip over there. Guess I'll just hafta sample more of all three!"
"Morra candied chestnuts! Morra raspberry seedcakes! Morra morra morra!"
The only hitch in the afternoon's festivities - and after the tragedies of the previous Nameday, it was a decidedly minor one - came with the serving of Friar Hugh's centerpiece dessert, a towering confection of moist, sweet cinnamon cake decorated with whipped cream icing of the purest white and the most delicate consistency and texture. When this masterpiece was sliced and sampled by the Abbeybeasts, however, it was not met with the reaction Hugh had hoped for.
"Well, that's ... interesting, Hugh," Arlyn ventured, smacking his lips uncertainly. "Not sure I've ever tasted anything quite like it."
"Can't say I entirely care for it," Lady Mina said with characteristic forthrightness. "The hot spices and the sweetness clash rather alarmingly."
"Hot spices?" Hugh's brow creased in puzzlement.
Arlyn set down his fork, mouth open to give his peppered tongue some air. The Abbot had forced himself to eat three forkfuls of the cake so as not to insult the expectant Friar who stood over him, waiting to receive his ovation and acclaim. Arlyn's first reaction - that this was some kind of joke Hugh was playing on them - faded into a vain hope that this was some exotic concoction that would improve as one developed a taste for it. Unfortunately, the case turned out to be quite the oppostie. His eyes were actually watering by the time he'd swallowed his third mouthful, and his tongue felt like it was on fire.
"My, that ... that certainly does creep up on you! Colonel, wh-wh-would you mind passing me that water flagon?"
"O' course, ol' bean." As the hare commander complied, he said to Hugh, "Gotta give it to ya, Friar chappie, you've truly gone an' created a dessert only an otter could jolly well stomach!"
"Wouldn't go that far, matey!" Montybank said from farther down the table.
The lean mouse cook was wide-eyed with mystification and disbelief by now. He sliced himself a thin wedge of the majestic dessert and levered it onto a plate, then held it up under his snout for minute inspection. The cake looked fine, just as it should - a rich yellow texture so moist it fairly glistened in the dappled sunshade, shot through with rust red flavor specks and bordered in flawless cream frosting. But a healthy sniff revealed that not all was as it should be. Instead of the faintly spicy aroma of cinnamon that should have been wafting up from the treat, Hugh's nostrils were assailed by a far more pungent and less appealing fragrance. He snatched up a clean fork and sampled the flawed delicacy to confirm his fears.
"Don't take it too hard, Friar," Brother Geoff said charitably. "We can't always have everything turn out exactly the way we want it to." The Recorder mouse had already pushed away his own helping of the cake after a single abortive sample. "The cream on the outside was fine. Maybe you could scrape it off and serve it on top of fruit ... "
"At least it never made it past our table, so thank goodness for small things," said Alex. "One of the down sides to getting served first, I guess."
Hugh nearly spat out his mouthful of the cake as its flavor swept across his taste buds; he had all he could do to swallow it. "Paprika!" he bellowed, outraged. "Somebeast put paprika in the batter instead of cinnamon!"
"Well, that's an honest mistake," conceded Geoff. "The two do look very much alike - I've nearly confused them myself on occasion. But, wouldn't you have noticed the odor while it was baking?"
"You've obviously never spent much time in the kitchens when we're getting ready for Nameday," Arlyn smiled, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his habit sleeve.
"No," Geoff responded with a trace of indignance, "because every time I've gone near the place at such times, I'm always chased away by an army of madbeasts brandishing ladles and cutlery!"
"And with good reason," the Abbot said. "Things are so fiendishly busy there, they can't afford to have even a single set of idle paws in their way. And with a dozen dishes cooking, baking, simmering and cooling at any given moment, it's not entirely surprising that the odor of paprika was lost in the confusion of aromas, and that this mistake went undetected until now."
"This was no mistake!" Hugh roared, slamming his plate down. "This was sabotage!"
"Oh, come now!" Arlyn chided. "Who could possibly have been helping you in the kitchens who would have done such a thing deliberately?"
Hugh's eyes bulged, red veins standing out against the white, as his paws clenched as tightly as his teeth. When at last he named the culprit, the accusation was like a volcano erupting.
"VANESSA!"
But the Abbess in question had quietly slipped from the orchard along with Droge and Budsock at the tainted cake's first appearance, and was now nowhere to be found.
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"I guess we should have called this the Summer of the Fire Cake instead!" Winokur laughed.
He and Roxroy lounged against the battlements atop the east wall, three meals' worth of food and drink gurgling happily in their stomachs. It was late enough on this, the longest day of the year, that the lowering sun now lay behind the main Abbey building and bell tower, which cast their evening shade over this section of the ramparts. The day was still quite warm, but after sheltering in the shade of the orchard all afternoon, it felt good to get up here where the gentle breezes were fresher and one could have a commanding view over the surrounding countryside. Before them in the distance rose the tower of Foxguard, many times the height of even the tallest tree, like some impossible children's toy. In the lingering summer sunlight, it glowed with a ruddy sheen that made it look even more surreal and fantastic than usual, sharp-edged and undeniable against the clear sky. It almost made the landscape look like a painting.
While some of the Abbeybeasts contented themselves with cooling their paws in the pond or strolling around the shadier parts of the grounds, a fair number had the same idea as the novice otter and cadet swordfox. Cyril, Cyrus, Smallert and several of the former slaves were among those who'd joined Wink and Roxroy on the walltop. So tall was Foxguard that it could still be easily seen even down on the lawns, but nothing could match the view of it from up here.
"Did you really help to name this season?" Roxroy asked his otter friend.
Winokur shrugged this off with a chuckle. "Abbot Arlyn has had plenty of experience picking season names - he was Abbot for something like twenty or thirty seasons before Vanessa became Abbess - and he had Brother Geoff to help him too."
"Is it hard to come up with a season name?"
"Depends on the season, I guess. Some are tougher than others." Wink waved a paw toward the lofty sentinel that towered over everything around it for as far as the eye could see. "It certainly wasn't any challenge finding one for this summer!"
Roxroy smirked in slight chagrin. "No, I guess not ... "
"Maybe come autumn, when we need a new name then, Arlyn and Geoff will let me help with suggestions. It'll all depend on whether the Abbess is any better by then, or if she's still running around trying to poison our desserts!"
The young fox shared Winokur's grin. "I know I really shouldn't laugh about it, but you have to admit, it was funny!"
"Aye, that it was," Wink agreed, "but that's often the way of things here at Redwall. We have a way of finding the silver linings in any clouds that darken our days, and finding humor and lightness in adversity. Vanessa's condition may be a sad state of affairs, but that doesn't erase the joyful silliness of some of her pranks. You lost a lot of friends and comrades in the attack on Foxguard, but I'm sure you never thought about those sorrows even once during today's feast."
"Well, actually," Roxroy admitted, "I did think of them quite a bit today, but only to stop and wish that they could have been here to enjoy these festivities as much as I was. Some of them were younger than I am, and never really knew such carefree hospitality as this in their lives. But I know what you mean. Redwall has something about it to set the heart at ease and soothe the spirit. Sharing this event with you folk has been good for all of us."
"Yes, this Abbey is renowned for its healing effect on those who need it. Last autumn, when the Long Patrol settled here after their defeat at Salamandastron, there was probably never any more disheartened or dispirited group of creatures seeking refuge at Redwall. Yet look at them today - laughing, singing, joking, starting families of their own. They'll probably always carry scars on their souls over their losses, but they've become part of our family, and as Redwallers I honestly believe they are happier here than they would be anywhere else."
"Yes," Roxroy nodded, "they do seem like any other contented woodlanders here. I must confess, I was a little nervous coming here the first time last winter, I'd heard so much about what grim warriors they were and what staggering losses they'd inflicted upon Lord Urthblood's troops at Salamandastron. Being a fox, I worried they might fight me just on principle, but they didn't harass me at all."
"Of course not. You were a guest of this Abbey, and they knew better than to besmirch our reputation for hospitality. They might not have been overjoyed by the idea of Foxguard itself, but they weren't about to disobey the Abbess and start a conflict over it on their own. Not most of them, anyway. Good thing not all of them are like Hanchett ... "
"I'll say!" Roxroy had learned of Hanchett's brutality against Browder and Kurdyla and his subsequent flight from the Abbey during his previous visit with Sappakit, when they'd come to Redwall to officially announce the completion of Foxguard's tower. "I never would have guessed he was that kind of vicious renegade when he showed up in the midst of our battle with Snoga, and pitched right in to help us fight off those villains."
"He really didn't have much choice, since Snoga was threatening the Abbess and the rest of us, and he's sworn to protect all Redwallers. Besides, by then I think the Colonel and the rest of the Long Patrol had come to accept that Foxguard was going to be a part of their lives and there wasn't much they could do about it. I mean, it would have been hard for even Hanchett to continue to view you as enemies with Snoga there."
"What do you think happened to that hare?"
Winokur sighed. "That's a question we've all been asking, Rox. Half of me thinks he sacrificed himself taking as many of Snoga's gang with him as he could, and the other half suspects he's going to just show up at our gates again sometime this season or next, whistling a happy tune and waggling his ears in the sunshine as if none of this ever happened."
"If he did show up, after the way he assaulted two Redwallers, what do you think the Abbess - er, I mean, the Abbot - would do?"
"That's a very good question. If he'd just beaten Browder and Kurdyla and then run away and not reappeared after that, I don't think there'd be any question of allowing him back into the Abbey. But now, after his valor at Foxguard and whatever unimaginable trials he's endured since, I just don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if Arlyn left the decision to the two beasts Hanchett wounded, since they're the ones who would have to live with him and only they know whether they could forgive him. Kurdyla especially; Mona says he might not be able to walk on his own until midsummer."
"At least he was able to enjoy today's feast. That wheelchair you folks put together for him was a really great idea."
"Aye, and this hot weather helped too, since nobeast feels like getting up and exerting themselves when they can enjoy a nice seat in the orchard shade. But I think when Mona finally gives him the okay to walk again, even if it's with a cane, that otter's gonna be up out of his bed so fast it'll set your tail a-spinning!"
"Do you think Mona's going to stay at Redwall that long? Until midsummer?" Roxroy asked. "Because we were sort of counting on her coming with us when we returned to Foxguard in a day or two."
"That's really up to Tolar and Mona herself. I know the Abbot would like her to stay if it's at all possible."
A little way along the walltop, Vanessa - who had thus far managed to keep her tail separated from Maura's punishing paw over the paprika incident - found Cyril where he was loitering with Cyrus and Smallert. As the fox and otter looked on in amusement, the affected Abbess draped her paws around Cyril's neck and hung upon him like a smitten schoolmouse. She seemed about to sneak a kiss on his cheek, but before she could he wiggled out of her uninvited embrace and fled from her toward Wink and Roxroy.
"Gah! What's wrong with her? Ever since I got back to Redwall, she hasn't left me alone! It's like she has a crush on me!"
"That's 'cos I think she does." The novice otter winked at Cyril.
"It's not right!" the young mouse stammered, clearly flustered. "She's the Abbess! She just called me 'sweetheart,' for Martin's sake!"
"Now Cyril, you know these days she's Abbess in name only. She thinks she's a carefree youngbeast again." Winokur looked him up and down; even though Cyril had returned to his duties as bellringer along with Cyrus, he still wore the woodlander shirts he'd adopted as his garb when he'd left the Abbey with Broggen ... which had more than one Redwaller wondering whether he still considered himself a novice of the order. It was not unheard of for young novicebeasts to seek lives outside the order when they reached adulthood. "She sees you as a dashing wanderer, back from an adventurous journey ... which isn't really too far from the truth. Maybe if you changed back into your habit, Vanessa wouldn't be quite so ... fixated upon you."
"Yeah, maybe. I'm ready to try anything at this point ... "
Roxroy decided to try his own paw at joshing with Cyril. "Oh, I don't know - if I had a fetching mousemaid like that falling over me, I might consider myself one lucky mouse."
Cyril stared at the cadet swordfox in mortification. "She's ... she's the Abbess! She's old enough to be my mother! That's sick!"
Roxroy whispered to Winokur, "That wasn't going too far, was it?"
"Naw," his otter friend replied lightly, "tho' I reckon Cryil might beg to differ."
Cyril sighed and leaned on the battlements alongside the other two. Glancing back the way he'd come, he said, "Well, at least Cyrus and Smallert have waylaid her for me. She'd probably have come chasing over here after me if it weren't for them."
Roxroy's gaze settled on Smallert. "How'd you folks take to having a weasel living among you?"
"Smalley?" Cyril shrugged. "Fine, once we got used to it, which didn't take long at all. He's a goodbeast ... just another Redwaller now."
"Aye," Wink agreed, "we don't even really think of him as a weasel anymore, just a big lovable oaf. He's an honorary otter, y' know - he an' Broggen both were. And in spite of what happened with Sister Aurelia, I still think it's safe to say that, thanks to Lord Urthblood's efforts, we're all looking at things very differently nowadays. Why, at this time last summer, it would have been almost unthinkable to have a weasel living here as an Abbeybeast, or a vixen as our Infirmary keeper, or to be helping a ferret build a tavern down where St. Ninian's used to stand while his wife gave birth to their son here, or to be welcoming an entire brigade of armed fox warriors inside our walls as honored guests to share our Nameday. That badger promised us things would be changing, and by my rudder was he right!"
"For the better, I hope you'll agree," put in Roxroy.
Winokur gave a nod toward Foxguard. "Some change is so momentous, it really falls outside the narrow lines of good or bad - it simply is." He quickly threw a glance at Roxroy and laid a flipper on his shoulder. "Although it can't be argued, making new friends is always a good thing."
For awhile the three of them stood leaning against the cooling battlement stonework, gazing out over the verdant summer forest.
"I miss Broggen," said Cyril.
"I miss my Dad," said Winokur.
"I miss all my friends who were slain at Foxguard," said Roxroy.
"Well, then, I guess that's one thing Abbot Arlyn left out of that Nameday poem of his," Winokur said, and then recited an old Abbey verse that simply came to him then:
"On festive days of joy and sun,
When every thought is turned to fun
Forget this not before the end
To cherish well your absent friends."
