THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Eighty-Three

It was perhaps not the greatest Nameday feast in the history of Redwall. But it would have been impossible to convince any of the Abbeybeasts of that.

The weather was sunny and perfect, so tables and benches were set out upon the lawns, enough to accommodate every member of their newly-expanded family. As noon approached, those tables were slowly filled as one savory dish after another was paraded out by the Friar's kitchen staff. The more trustworthy brothers and sisters were posted as guards to make sure that the children, the hares and the otters did not devour the courses as quickly as they were brought out. Friar Hugh and his helpers had indeed toiled through the night, and the results showed it.

The centerpiece of the feast was a carrot and potato and brown gravy vegetable pie, baked in the largest cauldron that would fit in the ovens. No Friar had ever attempted to make a pie of such size, but Hugh proved equal to the challenge; the crust was golden and flaky all the way around, the gooey thick filling steaming hot to its center. This delectable behemoth was flanked by two of the moles' deeper 'n' ever pies, one using the standard tater, turnip and beet recipe, the other an experiment in mushroom, onion and watershrimp, inspired by a shrew dish Winokur had sampled while at Salamandastron.

These main courses were supported by an array of salads, side dishes, breads and desserts that were every bit as enticing. An immense Mossflower salad contained a little bit of everything from the gardens, while another of dandelion was garnished with sliced tomatoes, crushed acorn bits and slivers of orange cheddar. A gigantic fruit salad consisted of chopped apples, damsons, pears, plums and quince swimming in a thick honey syrup. A sweetmeadow custard was decorated with fresh strawberries. Many of those same fruits found their way into a fruitcake so large that two mice were needed to bear it out from the kitchens. Dressings of spiced cream or vinegar and oil were available for topping off the vegetable salads. Breads ranged from coarse wheaten loaf to soft flowerbread, apple spicebread, honeybread, nutbreads, and even loaves with cheese baked right into them, along with jams of blackberry, raspberry, strawberry, redcurrant, and grape. An iced carrot cake loaf was prepared with the hares especially in mind. Wheels and bricks of white, yellow, and red cheeses were on display, along with a pot of the Friar's specialty hot melted cheese fondue. Desserts included gooseberry crumble with nutmeg cream, custard layer cakes with whipped cream toppings, wild plum woodland pie with buttercup cream, and puddings of a dozen different varieties.

When Friar Hugh gave the word that all was ready, Cyril and Cyrus rushed to the bell tower and hauled at the bellropes with utter abandon, signalling the start of the feast. The entire Sparra population of Warbeak Loft streamed out from under the Abbey's high eaves and swooped down to join the ground creatures. Every mouse, mole, squirrel, hedgehog, otter, hare, badger - yes, and stoat and weasel too - found itself a seat at the tables. Except for one low table that had been set up specially for the children, and the Abbess's ornate chair at the head of the largest central table, every other beast was welcome to mingle and sit wherever it wished. And since Redwallers were famous for getting along famously with each other, far less attention was paid to the picking and choosing of tablemates than to simply getting seated so the eating could begin. Broggen and Smallert were two exceptions; Cyril and Cyrus made sure that their new friends would sit by them for their first of what would hopefully be many Nameday feasts at Redwall.

Finally everybeast was in place and settled satisfactorily. In keeping with tradition, nobeast would so much as nibble or sip at the feast spread out before them until the Abbess had recited a prayer of thanks, and formally declared the name she had chosen for this season. An expectant hush fell over the assemblage as Vanessa stood, the silence broken only by a few tittered giggles from the children's table and some subdued cackles of conversation amongst the Sparra. As eager as the Redwallers were to tuck into the tempting display, most were equally anxious to hear what name this autumn would bear. Vanessa had firmly refused to let slip any advance hint as to her choice, and speculation was rife.

"My dear friends," Vanessa began, "I know you're all eagerly awaiting the prayer of thanks, and the naming of the season, so I've decided to break with tradition a bit and do both at once. In honor of Winokur, our intrepid envoy of peace, and in honor of the Long Patrols who are now a part of our family, I have taken the liberty of composing a special prayer for the occasion. Let us begin."

At all the tables, everybeast took the paws of the creature seated to either side and bowed its head reverently. Outside the main group of tables, the Sparra bowed their heads similarly, some touching wingtips. Vanessa commenced the prayer, her clear voice carrying to every ear.

"Fruits of orchard, garden and pond

Shared with brothers and sisters fond

Otter, hedgehog, squirrel and mole

Together make our family whole

Sparra friends so swift of wing

Badger Mother whose praise we sing

Spare a thought for friends not here

And the safe return of ones held dear

In these times fraught with war

Cherish our blessing even more

Also wish to our new friends

Peace until their seasons end

So, with thanks, I do declare

The Autumn of the Fighting Hares!"

Cheers erupted all around, as longtime Redwallers raised up their mugs and beakers and goblets in a toast to their new hare friends.

"How's about that, Colonel?" Montybank barked cheerfully at Clewiston; the Long Patrol commander and the Abbey's skipper of otters had grown very fond of each other, as had all the hares and otters in general. "You bobtails're gonna get a whole season named fer you! Quite an honor, eh?"

"No more than they deserve," put in Geoff. "Their arrival is certainly the most noteworthy happening at Redwall this season, so the choice of that name is most apt. Good work, Vanessa!"

"Bravo! Bravo!" many voices called out at once. "Here's to the Long Patrols! Hooray!"

The Colonel and Traveller both looked a tad uncomfortable at all the praise and attention, but bore up to the moment with proper regimental grace.

"Thank you, Abbess. Thank you, kind gentlebeasts."

"Speech! Speech!"

Traveller nudged his old friend in the ribs. "They want a speech, Clewey."

Somewhat flustered, Clewiston got to his feet and addressed the beasts around him. "Guess this means we're invited t' stick around fer awhile, wot? Can't tell all you good creatures wot yer friendship means to us, no jolly words t' do those sentiments justice. Words was never my strong suit, but there's one thing I do know, an' I'm sure you'll all agree with me."

The Colonel gave a dramatic pause. Everybeast leaned forward, hanging on every word.

"This food's gettin' cold!" he declared. "So enuff with the blusterin' an' speechmakin' - let's eat!"

If the cheers for him before were hearty, the ones Clewiston received now were out and out thunderous. The children's table in particular added to the din, but only momentarily; after that they were too busy with their food.

Clewiston sat. Vanessa said to him, "The name I chose was to honor what you have always been and what you've been through, Colonel. But now that you're all Redwallers, it is my sincere hope that you will never have to fight a war again for the rest of your seasons."

"You an' me both, Abbess," Clewiston nodded. "You an' me both."

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Overall, the Nameday feast was a smashing success. To those who were longtime Abbeydwellers, no food ever tasted so delicious nor drink so refreshing as it did that crystal clear mid-autumn day. And for those who were experiencing their very first Nameday, it was like stepping into a brand new world of never-before-guessed-at delights.

Broggen and Smallert were at a loss as to the plenty on display before them. Well, almost.

Cyril sat between weasel and stoat, with Cyrus on Smallert's other paw. The two mice were amazed at the amount of food their new friends put away that day. Both were very mindful of their table manners, careful not to make a spectacle of themselves in front of so many gentlebeast woodlanders. But their proper use of utensils, polite requests for additional helpings, delicate dabs at their lips with their napkins, and careful chewing of each bite could not disguise the fact that they were taking in enough food and drink to burst a smaller creature.

"Ooo," Smallert moaned in gastronomical joy, "I never knew food as good as this existed, even here at Redwall! This meal's better'n life itself!"

"Wouldn't go that far, matey," Broggen said over his third slice of pink cream custard layer cake. "It's food like this that makes life worth livin'!" He paused to ruffle Cyril's head fur. "An' friends like this, too!"

"But what would good food be without good drink, I ask yer?" Smallert said as he refilled his beaker with October ale, then held the pitcher out to Broggen. "Wot'cha drinkin', matey? Fizzy pink stuff! Here, try some o' this, this's the stuff fer grown beasts!"

The stoat politely declined. "Oh, I daresn't. No ales ner spirits fer this ol' stoat. Got in some trouble up north once by gettin' drunk, an' it almost cost me my life, so I'm sworn off that brew. Thanks anyway, mucker."

"Who ya callin' mucker?" Smallert accused good-naturedly as he withdrew the pitcher of ale.

"You, matey. 'Cos y' got mucky raspberry jam all over yer whiskers."

"Yeah? Well, you got pink fluffy cream hangin' off the end o' yers! Makes you look real pretty, too! Lucky fer you there's no other stoats at Redwall, 'cos one of 'em might mistake you fer a sweet li'l stoatmaid an' make you his wife!"

"Well, that's easily 'nuff remerdee'd." Broggen daintily licked his whisker ends clean. "Hey, anybeast else want that last dollop o' meadowcream custard puddin'?"