Chapter 7

Like all Redwall feasts, Abbess Avelle's Fall Jubilee Feast was a big success. Great Hall's three tables were packed to capacity with foods of all kinds: breads, salads, puddings, pies, flans, pasties, and scones, to name a few. Redwallers of all shapes and sizes, mice, moles, hedgehogs, dormice, voles, otters, and squirrels, were seated along the hall in no particular order, and as was the Redwall custom, the order of courses was set in a like manner.

The foxes of the Silvercoat skulk were seated near the end of the table where the Abbess sat, where Poisonleaf Wolfbane, Mother Brilla, and Skipper of Otters towered above the other Redwallers. Leslie and Lingen Reguba had befriended the young hedgehog Stikle Furgin, and they were seeing that he would miss nothing in the way of all the different Redwall foods.

"Here, Stikle, have some of this strawberry flan, it's delicious. Go ahead, take it all."

"Try some of this hotroot soup, ol' Furgin, it'll put a point to your spikes. Eh, Jarsum?"

The otter in question turned to the young squirrel next to him with his head half lifted from a bowl of watershrimp and hotroot soup, just long enough to say, "Aye, that it'll do, mate. A bristle to yer fur and curl yer whiskers. That is, if y'ave whiskers." He winked at the trio before diving back into his soupbowl, slurping noisily.

Several casks and barrels had been contributed to the feast by the cellarhog Gardil-- different brews and drinks that ranged from elderberry cordial to the ever-famous strawberry fizz, which had been invented by one of the early cellarhogs of Redwall. Her cousin, Friar Gringle, had also outdone himself, as many Redwallers had complimented him during the course of the feast. They both sat proudly at the middle of the main table, listening to the other Redwallers praising their work amongst each other, and also exchanging knowledge and experimenting for whenever the next feast might be.

"Hmm, this's delicious. Drink some o' this with that pudding you've made."

"Ah, interesting 'tis, my dear cousin. What d'ye call it?"

"Autumn orchard. Y'think it fits?"

"Aye, that it does. 'Treminds me of Autumn. An' wot better time t'ave it than now?"

Benno the Friar's assistant was the hero of the hour. His head had been bandaged liberally as a battle wound, by Sister Sara the Infirmary Keeper. The cause of the injury, although Benno himself did not remember what had happened, was only known by one creature there. During the battle, Benno, Siltburr, and the other young Redwallers who had come had been purposely placed behind the otter crew where none of the horde dared to venture. Benno, however, had still wanted to get in on the action, arming himself with a large club he had found on a fallen hordebeast. It was then that the hedgehog Stikle Furgin had arrived at the battlescene far ahead of Leslie and Fairgrass his pursuers. Mistaking him for a foebeast at first glance, Benno had swung out at him with his club, missing narrowly because Stikle had ducked in time, and was knocked out like a light amid stars and fireworks from the backswing of his own club.

The wounded young warriorcook Benno sat in a large chair at the table, constantly attended to by admiring Redwallers. At the other end of the table Stikle sat with his new friends Leslie and Lingen. Looking over at the young would-be hero, the hedgehog couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He was happy; why tell him?

The Dibbun mole Dribber was quite proud of himself; his "rooty pie", in his opinion had turned out better than he expected. His only problem was getting somebeast to eat it.

"Yurr, mizz Poley, eat'n et all oop. Et be's ee gurt rooty poi, et'n's gudd for ee!"

"Oh, no thank you, Dribber, I've had quite enough already. Why don't you give it to Brother Lucas?"

"Mmmfshmm-- uh-- me? I-- I mean, I've also had enough for now."

"But zurr, you'm be eaten ee pudden roight naow!"

"Um, th-- that's my final course, you see. I know, why don't you give it to one of those foxes over there? They look like they could really tuck into it with a will."

The little mole trundled over to the far end of the table, carefully bearing the pan that held his prized pie. He stopped at the closest fox to him, Ferrence Silvercoat. The old fox turned to the Dibbun, who was holding a pie pan up to him.

"Well well, young 'un, what is it we have here?"

"Burr, you'm wanten t'eat moi poi? Oi made et moiself."

Ferrence picked up the pie from the expectant mole, but upon smelling it quickly changed his mind. "Here, I have an idea. I'm just an old woodlander, I could never finish a pie this size. Now over here's a warrior who could handle such a pie." He shoved the piepan across to Poisonleaf Wolfbane. "There y'are, my son, a warrior's food for a warriorfox, eh?"

"Who, me? I'm fair-to-middlin' I'd say, but over here's the real trencherbeast," Wolfbane said as he slid the pan over one place to Temmlock the squirrel.

Much to his surprise, Temmlock took the challenge. "All right," he said, grabbing a fork, "if neither of you can handle it." He dug his fork into the pie, unearthing a sizable slice and shoving it into his mouth. All eyes were upon the red-furred squirrel as he chewed the pie slice slowly, the least of which not being by far Dribber's. He swallowed. "I say, not bad, not bad at all," he said. After shoveling another forkful, Temmlock commented through the mouthful of different kinds of roots, "Hmm, a bit tart here an' there, somewhat spicy-- hotroot's my guess. My compliments to the chef." A cheer rose up from all the beasts at the table for the little Dibbun, who had gone under the table and across to where Temmlock sat as the squirrel was trying the unusual pie. "Jolly good, young chap, what's in it?" Temmlock asked as the mole climbed into his lap.

"Hurr, oi usen'd ee arraroot'n'beetroot'n'otroot, zurr. Oi calls et ee rooty poi!"

Foremole and his mole crew were at that time enjoying the last of their tater'n'turnip'n'beetroot deeper'n'ever pie, when the beasts at the other end of the hall began cheering for the molebabe Dribber. Foremole gave a glance in their direction before helping himself to a healthy portion of the deeper'n'ever pie, commenting to another mole, "Hurr, oi tol' ee they'm gurt noisy beasts!"

When the feasting had slown somewhat to a lull, Mother Brilla made her way to where Lingen Reguba sat and tapped him on the shoulder, indicating that he should follow her. After excusing himself from his two friends, Lingen followed the Badger Mother down the hall. She stopped at the very end of the hall, where Abbess Avelle sat. The old white mouse drew the young squirrel over to her ear and said in an audible tone a little louder than a whisper, "I have heard bits of what had occurred this afternoon, but I also understand that you can add to what the woodlanders have told me. Would you be so kind as to tell me what you saw?" As Lingen stooped over and talked with the Abbess, Mother Brilla left, patting the squirrel on the back before she retook her seat at the long table.

As the sun began to set on Redwall and the feasting was virtually finished, except with Temmlock, Dangur, and the otter crew, it was time for the entertainment to begin, as Skipper announced. "S'Margy gonna' sing fer us?"

This sudden request was met with cheers from many of the Redwallers who knew the female otter. With feigned reluctance, she stood up, and after shooting a murderous glance at the otter chief, launched into song."

Oh, I 'ad a boat wot wouldn't float
Now wot was I to do,
Wid' a leaky bottom
An' a broken rudder, too?
So I picked it up an' carried it
An' took it to a shrew,
An' I said, 'Dear sir, me boat won't work,
Now wot can ye do?'
So, shiver me sail an' the mainmast too,
If yew 'ad a broken ship, tell me wot would ye do?

Then I came back in a week or so,
The boat the shrew repaired,
An' I 'cided to go sailin'
On the sea so fair.
So I 'ired me a crew
O' the most villainous corsairs,
An' we set out on an ocean cruise
To 'oo knows where.
Oh, pull out me rudder an' call me an 'are,
If yer crew were full o' pirates, now 'ow would ye fare?

So we set out on the voyage
An' the first thing I did know,
All those villains they did
Turn on me an' mut'ny, so
I jus' grabbed those vermin by the neck
An' o'erboard they did go,
An' I 'it a rock wot gave me ship
A great big 'ole.
So, splinter me deck an' away we go,
When ye waste yer time wid' vermin, yew will need a new boat!"

Amid cheers and applause following her song, Margy promptly took her seat despite calls for an encore. Instead she suggested casually, "Perhaps Skip would like to sing us a song."

This also was met with general cheers, but Skipper remained in his seat, pretending not to notice. "C'mon, ol' waterdog, sing us a nice sea ballad or some'n!" Temmlock jibed jokingly as he shoved the burly otter forward.

"Oh, there onceee were a feeelleeeeer,
Wot li-hiiiiived, er, by th' seee-heeeeaa,
An' 'e set out onnnn 'is ooownnn,
Er, tooo, er ahem, tooo- um, toooo seeee whaaaaaaa--"

"Er, thank you, Skipper, for that lively bit of entertainment," Mother Brilla interrupted as she quickly guided Skipper back to his seat and everybeast uncovered their ears.

Back at Leslie's end of the table where Lingen had retaken his seat, Lingen mumbled to his friend, "Now I know why they never asked him to sing before."

"Rather!" she replied.

"Anybeast else? Perhaps our woodland guests would oblige us with a song?" This suggestion brought much protest from the group of woodlanders seated at the table.

"No, I'm not s'sure you'll want t'hear me sing. I sound jus' like a frog in mud, I do!"

"True, jus' like a frog stuck in th' mud, and I'm not much better. I thought we jus' came here t'eat, not t'sing!"

"Well, how about my Fairgrass here? She could sing us up a storm." Fairgrass tried to make herself invisible at the words of her grandfather Ferrence. Shadowfeather and Wolfbane, however, chimed in their agreement.

"Fairgrass can sing us a song, won't you? We're but only foxwarriors, that's all we're good for."

"Aye, Fairgrass's th' singer here, not us. How about it, eh?"

Despite much persuading and coaxing, they could not get the shy Silvercoat to sing in front of a hall full of Redwallers. Finally it was suggested that Leslie the mousemaid should recited one of the poems that Brother Lucas had taught her.

Throwing a slight grin in Brother Lucas's direction, the Redwall mouse stood and recited a poem which she was very familiar with:

"Who says that I am dead
Know naught at all.
I-- am that is,
Two mice within Redwall.
The Warrior sleeps
'Twixt Hall and Cavern Hole.
I-- am that is,
Take on my mighty role.
Look for the sword
In moonlight streaming forth,
At night, when day's first hour
Reflects the North.
From o'er the threshold
Seek and you will see;
I-- am that is,
My sword will wield for me."

After a slight stunned silence, there was a hearty applause for the young mouse, who then also took her seat, avoiding Brother Lucas's strange glance.

There was not much time to think about this, as the next moment a few moles had brought out their mole fiddles and other instruments and were playing a fast-paced reel while a group of hedgehogs, including the cousins Gardil Cellarhog and Friar Gringle, were on the floor performing a jig. Everybeast else, even the woodlanders, clapped to the beat and even stamped their feet. Even before the end of the last note applause rang out in the hall for the jovial moles and panting hedgehogs. When the applause died down, a voice echoed off the walls.

"Ah, not much I'll grant ye, but good for a beginner."

Friar Gringle, who was the champion jigger at Redwall despite his plump size, had already recovered his breath before the other hogjiggers. "And 'oo is it wot thinks 'e c'n outdance th' best jigger in the 'ole o' Mossflower, eh?" he called back.

Before he had finished talking, a stout hedgehog, Dangur Furgin, strode up to the center of the hall and stamped his footpaw in a challenging manner.

"Go on, Dangur-me-hog, teach 'im how to really jig!"

"Aye, Father, show him what a Furgin is made of!"

After Dangur his waved his paw to silence his woodland friends, Friar Gringle turned to the husky hedgehog. " 'Tis you 'oo wishes t'challenge th' champion jigger o' Redwall?"

Dangur returned the glance, answering in almost an unconcerned tone. "Aye, so 'tis."

"A challenge! A challenge!" came the cheer from all the Redwallers gathered. Their Friar was the best; nobeast had ever been able to beat him!

Dangur was already speaking to the musicians. "Can you good moles play 'Rustlin' Rushes'?"

"Bo urr, Rustlin' Rushes? Moightn't et'n be too farst furr ee, zurr?"

"Oh, I wouldn't trouble me liddle head about that, m'moley friend."

The mole shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "Awroight, zurr, if'n et be wot you'm wanten. Oi, Siltburr, whoi you'm be a-putten oop ee fiddle, young 'un?"

"Hurr, 'cuz oi can't play ee zong, zurr. Et be's too farst furr oi!"

The two contesting hedgehogs took their places for the old fiddle song, the music starting out very simple and the dancing only consisting of a bit of tapping and clapping.

Leslie the mousemaid had never seen the dance before. "Why do they consider this dance so hard?" she whispered to Stikle Furgin. "It seems as easy as any other I've seen."

Stikle laughed; he had seen it unnumerable times. In fact, he had even learned parts of it, but he still couldn't outjig his father Dangur. "Oh, don't you worry, it'll get harder soon 'nuff. By the way, Leslie, that was an interestin' poem you recitated a while ago. What does it mean?"

"Oh, that? Well, before this Abbey was built there was a mouse called Martin the Warrior, who was one of our founders. He lived many seasons ago, before old Abbess Avelle, and Mother Brilla, before Cregga and Mhera, and Arven, and Mattimeo, and Matthias the Warrior--"

Stikle cut in. "Matthias the Warrior? Was he like Martin the Warrior?"

Leslie smiled at her friends. "Aye, he was. As a matter of fact, that's what the poem is about. Martin carried a great sword, passed on to him by his father. But Martin had no son to pass the sword to when he died, so he hid the sword here in the Abbey where the next great warrior would have to find it."

"An' that warrior was Matthias?"

"Once again, you are correct. The sword now hangs above the tapestry of Martin the Warrior," here she pointed to where both hung in Great Hall, "where the last Redwall Warrior--"

"Shhhhhh!"

Several of the nearby beasts had had enough of the constant chattering of the two friends. "Well, that's what it's about," Leslie whispered quietly to Stikle.

"That's very intriguing, Leslie. Where did you learn all this?" Leslie turned to see Brother Lucas, who had appeared in their midst suddenly.

Leslie stuttered. She was taking Redwall history lessons with the Abbey Recorder, but he hadn't gotten to that part yet-- she had read it all during the times she hid in the gatehouse when she thought Brother Lucas wasn't around. "Brother Lucas, I, er, was just--"

The Brother silenced her with a wave of his paw. "Say no more Leslie, I--"

"Shhhh!"

Sheepishly, Brother Lucas apologized to the nearby Redwallers and sat back down as Leslie turned to watch the jigging contest again. She had not missed much, as the song was still relatively simple. Soon the music began to get more complex, and the dancing involved more stomping, hopping, and clapping. And as the difficulty of the song increased, so the amount of musicians decreased as one by one they began to drop out. As they neared the end of the song, which by this time only a few musicians were left playing, both Dangur Furgin and Friar Gringle were jigging for all they were worth to the old tune, tapping their footpaws rapidly on the stoned floor, spinning around, jumping, clapping, and hopping in complete unison until both were just a big, spiky blur. Both hedgehogs were panting heavily by this time. Suddenly, Gringle turned and sat down hard, his plump belly heaving up and down as he tried to recover his breath.

"I'm not as young an' spry as I once was. You win, friend!" Contrary to the common tradition of the winner also quitting after winning the challenge, Dangur never lost a step, completing the dance to the accompaniment of a long fiddler, the only musician left playing by this time. They finished amid thunderous applause from the hall of Redwallers, and especially from the woodlanders.

Stikle Furgin turned to his friend Leslie. "See? Ain't a creature 'live wot can beat m' old father!"

Dangur reached down and helped the Redwall Friar up. "Ye jigged up quite a storm there, old 'un. If you were any younger an' sprier I'd have been beat. You're a worthy opponent."

Gringle smiled back at him. "Aye, young 'og, but you're th' worthy winner!"