CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The otters' return was met with the same level of cheer and anticipation as Trelayne's demonstration had been, in spite of that earlier event's rather ignominious and disheartening conclusion. Indeed, the arrival of the burly and boisterous waterbeasts gave the Redwallers something joyous and hopeful to help take their minds off the disturbing spectacle their former Abbess had again made of herself.

The Abbeybeasts - this time joined by many of the visiting Gawtrybe as well - congregated around the east wallgate on the lawns there, while a large welcoming committee filed outside to greet the fishing expedition in the narrow clearing between the base of the wall and the first trees of the deep woods. Even though restocking excursions were not all that rare or unusual, sometimes occurring as frequently as once a season during the warmer parts of the year, this one was hardly ordinary, since the otters would be bearing back with them not only fish and shrimp but also news of how the Guosim and Custis's advanced boatbuilding party fared.

As expected, Kurdyla appeared at the vanguard of the returning company, marching squarely and stolidly between the pullings rods of the now heavily-laden cart, hauling it with his badger-like strength and berserker's singlemindedness. The way his muscles corded and stood out beneath his fur testified to the formidable level of his exertions; even though several of the other otters aided him by pushing along at the sides and back of the cart, it was still a major challenge for a creature of even Kurdyla's brawny constitution to convey the sheer weight of the loaded barrels along the forest paths.

Huffing and puffing, Kurdyla drew up before the waiting Redwallers and set down the hauling hafts, gingerly so as not to upset the sloshing cargo. He straightened and snapped off a quick and informal salute to Montybank. "Mission accomplished, Skip sir! Our pond'll not be goin' empty anytime soon! We got enuff shrimp an' fish fry t' keep it stocked fer this season an' next, an' we snagged us an otter-sized graylin' fer a feast this very night!"

"Otter-sized, huh?" Monty probed. "Well, that could run a purty wide gamut, dependin' on whether yore talkin' 'bout a strappin' hulker like you, or a pipsqueak like Rumter 'ere!"

"Hey, I'm no runt of any riverdog's litter!" the younger otter shot back with a grin as he came up along the side of the wagon. "But I tell ye, Skipper sir, ain't never seen th' river so rich! Spring must be th' best time fer castin' nets 'n' lines outta all th' seasons an' times o' year!"

"Well, shore, I coulda told you that!" Monty laughed, striding forward to take stock of their catch. "Lemme peek in on these beauties while you tired landlubbers help yoreselves to well-deserved rest, an' then we'll help wheel this inside to th' pond!"

"And what of the others?" Geoff inquired. "How fare the Guosim and the Gawtrybe with their boat building?"

Rumter's pal Brydon came up alongside him. "Abbot, you'd scarcely berlieve it if ye saw it with yore own eyes! We all know our Guosim mateys are a fair paw at gettin' their logboats hollowed our fer themselves, but with them fancy woodcraftin' tools th' Gawtrybe've got, the work must've gone twice as fast as it woulda otherwise! They already got two whompin' huge log rafts lashed t'gether, each big 'nuff t' cart a heavy load o' stone from one bank o' th' Moss to the other! An' that ain't countin' all th' smaller logboats they got cut an' shaped as well, with more on th' way!"

"Logboats?" Geoff asked, surprised. "I hadn't thought they'd be making any number of those, since they would not be nearly as useful at ferrying the cut stone."

"Well, Geoff matey," Monty reminded his old friend, "Log-a-Log's only plannin' on stayin' 'round long 'nuff t' help us open th' quarry an' get some o' the preliminary muscle work done. He 'n' his shrews're still hopin' t' get a season or two o' wand'rin' in afterwards. Like as not, they'll be gone by midsummer ... an' I'm guessin' those logboats'll be for 'em."

"Aye, he told us as much too," Rumter confirmed with a nod. ""But 'e were also quick t' point out that b'fore we open th' quarry, there's a whole lotta beasts we gotta get across th' Moss first - all th' Guosim, all Foremole's crew, plus any otters who're gonna go along t' lend their own muscle to this dig. An' let's not ferget all th' Gawtrybe who'll be goin' on t' Foxguard. They'll prob'ly be th' first ferried across, matter o' fact, so's they c'n be on their way."

"Which sounds good to me." Custis turned to Geoff. "Abbot, this progress is good and heartening new indeed - not that I expected anything less with my Gawtrybe on the scene to add their expertise to the endeavor. As much as you've enjoyed having us here - and as much as we have genuinely enjoyed our stay - you'll be happy to hear that this night will be our last at Redwall. In the morning, my remaining Gawtrybe and I will be off." The squirrel lieutenant shot a sour glance Clewiston's way. "Sorry, Colonel, but it looks like we won't have the chance to take over Redwall after all."

The hare puffed out his whiskers, unabashed. "An' I'll be first in line there on th' morrow t' wish you happy travels, chap."

Some of the returned otters seemed less than overjoyed by this revelation. "Gee, we only just got back after two days away from the Abbey," Brydon mildly complained. "We were kinda hopin' t' have a few good nights' rest in our own beds 'fore headin' out inta th' wilds again ... "

"Aw, lay off yore bellyachin' an' rest easy, me hearties," Monty told them. "Only half us riverdogs went on this fishin' trip - which means it'll be the other half's turn t' leave with th' Lieutenant t'morrow fer th' quarry! An' I'll be at th' head of th' pack! We can always send fer th' rest of you if we need more brawn - once ye've all caught up on yore beauty sleep!"

"And I still hope to be going too," Winokur put it, flexing his bandaged paw as he looked hopefully to his Abbot. "It's feeling much better now ... "

"Have Arlyn and Metellus give it a good look in the morning," said Geoff. "If they declare you fit for travel and a stay away from the Abbey, I'll abide by their informed decision. But if they don't, I'm afraid you'll have to remain behind, Wink."

Winokur's face fell, then quickly brightened again. "But Vanessa says I'm supposed to go!"

Geoff's expression grew as dour as Clewiston's. "The less said about her, the better."

Kurdyla regarded the Abbot. "Oh, has that liddle mischief maker been up to 'er pranks again?"

"Somewhat worse than that, I'm sorry to report. But I'm sure you'll be hearing all about it in good time, from others who were there. I'm of no mind just at the moment to go into the particulars. But the good news is, Captain Choock's shrews left Redwall this morning to be on their way, so you should find there's somewhat more elbow room around here now than when you left. Now, let's see about getting this cart inside, and our pond fully restocked. Even without that gaggle of Northland shrews, we'll still have all we can do to keep every mouth fed around here! And then we'll get your prize grayling unwrapped from its tarp and to the kitchens so Friar Hugh can start preparing it for tonight's dinner. He's got several superb recipes for that fish ... and as well as we've treated our new arrivals so far, now they'll finally have a chance to sample something more closely approaching a proper Redwall feast!"

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Cyril found himself meeting with Arlyn and Winokur in the Infirmary for the second time in as many days - except that this time, the three of them were hardly alone.

"Something has got to be done," Maura said sternly. "Her behavior is getting worse and worse, and if it keeps going like it is, I'm afraid it may be just a matter of time before she hurts somebeast."

Winokur halfheartedly raised his bandaged paw. "Too late for that, I'm afraid."

"Yes, Wink, I know, and I didn't mean to make light of your own injury. But I'm talking about somebeast getting hurt very badly. Monty might be keeping the sword of Martin close to him, and we can trust all our other Abbey defenders to keep their arms safely out of Vanessa's reach, but she could still do great damage with a pilfered knife from the kitchens, or any number of tools that can be found around Redwall, or even a stick or rock picked up from the Abbey grounds. If she continues to act out so wildly, with no sense of right or wrong and no sense of responsibility for her actions, I fear it may be inevitable before the worst comes to pass."

"How is she doing now?" Geoff asked; due to the gravity of Vanessa's latest misdeed, the Abbot thought it appropriate that he attend this meeting as well.

"Hard to say," Maura replied. "You know how willful she gets when she's made to do something she doesn't want to do. It was all I could do to get her up to the Infirmary this afternoon, and while she did seem to settle down after a bit, she went and raised an entirely new ruckus when she realized I meant to lock her in a private dorm up on the third floor."

"That's room we can ill-afford to spare on a single beast," Geoff lamented, "what with our latest crush of freed slaves still dorming down in Cavern Hole."

"I know, Abbot, but it was the best solution I could think of. This is Vanessa we're talking about; I wasn't going to lock our former Abbess away in some dank cellar chamber like some fiend or criminal." Maura threw a glance at the one-eared weasel seated at Cyril's side. "Uh, no offense, Smallert. But the plain truth is, Vanessa does spend a lot of time in the company of our babes and young ones, and I worry especially what she might do to some of them. I'm Redwall's Badger Mother first and foremost, so that must always be my primary concern."

"Yes, of course," Geoff readily agreed. "And we can always count on you to speak plainly, which is what the situation calls for right now. And while locking Vanessa in a bedchamber might be a solution for a night - or even several nights - we're still left with a longer-term dilemma. We can hope that Winokur's theory about Vanessa starting to regain her memories and slowly coming back to herself may be correct, but even if it is, how long will the process take? I'm certainly not seeing any signs of optimism in her current behavior. Just the opposite, in fact."

"Oh, don't be so quick to draw any conclusions based on that," Wink advised. "Could be, if some part of her's starting to wake up to who she really is, but can't get through all the way, that'll only make her all the more frustrated. That could explain why she's acting out now more than ever before."

"Another interesting theory ... but at this point, that's still all it is. And even if you're correct, that still doesn't do us much good in the here and now." Geoff turned to the bellringer mouse. "Cyril, you've been keeping closer to her for the past day or so than any of the rest of us. Have you observed anything at all to suggest she might be coming back around, or showing any signs of her former self?"

Cyril shrugged, feeling helpless and ill-equipped to contribute to this impromptu council of Abbey leaders. "I really can't say, Father Abbot. One moment she'll be all over me as bad as she ever was, and the next she'll be all but ignoring me."

"Wager I can guess which of those you prefer," Winokur chuckled; a stern glance from Geoff chased the frivolity from the otter Recorder's face.

"Um, and that's about it," Cyril concluded timorously. "It's like I either fascinate her, or bore her to tears. There's no middle ground. But as to anything that suggests the Abbess she was ... " He shrugged again. "All I can see is the impudent, disrespectful, flighty creature she's been ever since she got back from Foxguard, permanently stuck in her infantile state."

"Well put, Cyril," Arlyn commended, "although I might use the term 'juvenile' instead. If she were truly infantile, you'd not have to worry about her pursuing you!"

Geoff looked to the weasel among them. "What about you, Smallert? Can you add anything to this discussion? Anything you've perchance observed that the rest of us might have missed?"

Smallert shook his head forlornly, feeling even more out of place here than Cyril did. "Truth t' tell, Abbot sir, I'd not know what t' look for. It's like Cyr said, she's still th' same wild, outta-control mouse she's been since she took that stone to 'er bonce. If she's any diff'rent these days, y' can't prove it by me."

Geoff mulled this over. "Well, just keep close to her in the days ahead, and see what comes of it. Once she's let out of her room, that is. We can't keep her in there forever." Cyril's posture and expression clearly indicated that he sincerely wished that was exactly what could be done with the stricken Abbess. "Although it seems to me that this may all be nothing more than a chase after a ghost of our hopes. So far all we have to go on are a few random utterances she's made here and there, about ancient prophecies and Redwall history, which could equally signify something or nothing at all. Perhaps fate is just playing us cruelly, adding indignity on top of injury and and giving use false optimism that Vanessa's state is about to take a turn for the better. If it does, that will be wonderful, and everybeast at the Abbey will welcome it. But unless and until she demonstrates some fundamental change, the problems she presents us with now must outweigh the prospects for a recovery which may never happen."

"The one I feel most sorry for in light of today's events is Trelayne," said Arlyn. "After going to all the trouble and effort of crafting such a wonderful little sculpture of you, Geoff, and pouring so much of himself into it, just to see it ruined like that in the blink of an eye. I feel terrible for him."

"Yes," Geoff agreed, "and it's not easy seeing such a perfect likeness of yourself smashed to bits right in front of you, either. And as honored as I was to have been both the subject and recipient of Trelayne's final creation for the day, it's also important to remember that that figurine was as much a gift to Redwall as to me personally. Vanessa broke what could have become a cherished artifact. That's why I find her behavior of today so reprehensible."

"Reprehensible or just outright dangerous, I can't be responsible for her anymore," Maura declared. "I know she's taken to thinking of herself as a youngbeast and has had a grand old time doing so, but it's time to start separating her delusions from the truth. The older ones like Droge and Budsock I'm not worried about, since they can handle themselves and likely give as good as they get from Vanessa, even at her wildest. But our leverets, and the harebabes who haven't even started walking yet, all concern me, as do some of the younger lads and lasses among the newer slave arrivals. Our harewives can look after their own babes, who seldom leave their nursery down in the Long Patrol warrens anyway, but the rest fall under my responsibility most of the time, and as much as it pains me to say it, I just don't want Nessa around them anymore. There's too much that could go wrong. Somebeast else will have to take charge of her and keep her out of trouble."

Cyril suddenly realized all eyes in the Infirmary had turned to him. "Huh, what? You mean, me? Oh, no. No, I ... "

"You've already been keeping an eye on her for us, Cyril," said Winokur. "Just keep doing what you've been doing."

"A lot of good it's done!" the young mouse protested. "I couldn't even stop her from ruining this afternoon!"

"Yes, well," Arlyn stammered, "about that. It's not like we didn't impose upon you to go ring the bells, leaving Vanessa to her own devices. Or turn a blind eye when she settled herself down among the young ones in front, thinking to ourselves that that might keep her conveniently occupied and out of the way. You're hardly to blame for what happened today, since she wasn't under your supervision at the time."

"But I don't want her under my supervision!" Cyril insisted. "I don't want to be responsible for her! I can't be! When you asked me yesterday to stay close to Nessa, it was to watch her closely for any signs of the odd behavior you're looking for, not to be her minder and nursemaid! I could never be her full-time keeper!"

"And yet she seems drawn to you," said Arlyn. "That gives you a link to her none of the rest of us can claim - and perhaps some modicum of control over her as well. She certainly doesn't obey any of the formal authority of this Abbey! Perhaps you can get through to her in a way nobeast else can. Failing that, perhaps you'll have better luck keeping her out of trouble than any of us would."

"But ... but ... I've got my bellringing duties! And my warrior's training!"

Geoff saw this as no time to indulge Cyril or tread softly around the younger mouse's sensitivities. "Ah, yes, your warrior's training. And how's that going for you these days?"

"Um ... er ... " Cyril hung his head, not needing to voice what everybeast already knew: that his aspirations toward becoming a fighting beast and Abbey defender were patchwork and scattershot, as best.

"Your Abbey needs you," Geoff went on somberly. "This might well be something you'll be able to do better than anybeast else. It might not be grand and glorious in a warrior's way, but that makes it no less important."

"And as for the bells," Maura put in, "I'll go back to ringing them myself, if it'll help keep that terror out of my fur, and away from our actual children."

Arlyn nodded toward Smallert. "And you'll have a good and faithful friend to help you out, Cyril - a friend who happens to know a thing or two about keeping beasts in line with his bare paws, being the former champion wrestler that he is."

Smallert looked aghast at this suggestion. "Oh, no, Abbot! I could never put me paws on th' Abbess so! She's th' one what gave me sanctuary, an' th' protection of Redwall! I'd be a deadbeast if not fer 'er!"

"We're hoping it won't come to having to tackle her," Geoff replied wryly. "But perhaps Vanessa might be more inclined to behave herself for Cyril if there's even the threat of your muscle coming into play. At the very least, you'll be able to lend Cyril some moral support in this task, if nothing more."

Cyril and Smallert both nodded, saying nothing further; they knew they'd been burdened with this responsibility at the behest of their elders, and there would be no backing out of it.

"We'll see if we can find others to help you, of course," Geoff added. "Even with most of our moles and half our otters gone to the quarry after tomorrow, we'll have no shortage of capable creatures here to lend a paw if you need it." The Abbot gave a small laugh. "One thing we've no deficit of at Redwall these days is extra beasts!"

"True," Winokur sad, "although I doubt we'll have any luck convincing any of the latest additions to our community to contribute to that task. Vanessa seems to have been on some of her worst behavior around them, and I strongly suspect they'd just as soon not have anything to do with her if they can avoid it."

"Well, that still leaves many willing Redwallers to help you out," Geoff told Cyril. "If things get to be a bit too much for you, don't hesitate to seek me out, or any of the other Abbey leaders, like Alex, or Monty - "

"Not Monty," Arlyn reminded the current Abbot. "Our illustrious Skipper will be away at the quarry."

"Oh, yes, of course. Well, there's Foremole ... no, wait, he'll be at the quarry too, won't he? Well, there's still Balla, and Wink here - "

The otter Recorder raised his bandaged paw again, waggling it at Geoff. "It's looking like the quarry for me too, remember? Arlyn thinks I'm healing well enough that I'll probably be able to leave with the main party in the morning."

"And don't look to me," Maura said to Geoff. "With all the youngsters under my care that I'll be doing my best to keep away from that rambunctious rapscallion, I'll not be free to have anything else to do with her."

"Hey, whatcha talking about?"

Every head in the Infirmary turned toward the doorway to see who had shouted in at them from the corridor beyond, although they didn't really need to; that carefree yet strident voice had become known to everybeast at Redwall in recent seasons.

"Vanessa!" Maura exclaimed, too stunned to make any immediate move toward the escapee. "Who let you out of your room?!"

"Nobeast, ya big meanie! Let myself out!"

"Like acorns you did!" Maura growled, rising at last from her seat on one bed to retrieve the wayward former Abbess. "Don't tell me you didn't have help! That was a solid door, securely locked! Who was it, Droge, or Budsock, or maybe Pirkko? Whoever did it, I'll tan their tails!"

"Weren't none of 'em!" Vanessa spat back, all but sticking her tongue out at the approaching badger. "Picked the lock all by myself! Gonff showed me how!"

"Oh, marvelous," Geoff muttered. "Now she's communing with the ghost of Gonff the Mousethief!"

"Then I'll just have to put you in a room with a bolt and - hey! Don't you run away from me!" But Maura's stern admonition fell on deaf ears - or, to be more precise, a retreating tail, because that was all any of them saw of Vanessa in the last moment before she fled and was gone.

Maura heaved an exasperated sigh, picking up her bustling pace. "Looks like I'm not done dealing with Vanessa yet after all ... " And then she was gone as well.

Smallert gave his mousefriend a small and forlorn glance. "Whelp, Master Cyril, looks like you 'n' me know what we'll be doin' in th' days ahead!"