THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Forty-Three

Back at Redwall, a world away from the conflict between Badger Lords and searats, or feuds among the wandering shrews of the Guosim, the Abbeyfolk celebrated another fine summer day that saw young Cyrus continue to improve. Spirits rose higher with each passing hour, and a nonstop parade of visitors streamed in and out of the Infirmary to give the novice mouse their best wishes.

"I realize all of Redwall must pull together in times like this," Sister Aurelia said to Abbess Vanessa, glancing across the room to where Cyrus lay, "but I think this is beginning to be too much of a good thing. Cyrus may seem alert and bright-eyed, but he still needs a lot of rest. I'm going to tell everybeast except Cyril to leave him be for awhile."

"It is nearly lunchtime," Vanessa said. "I'll encourage all our friends here to take their meal outside. That should give Cyrus a good break from all this activity. I'll have Friar Hugh send up some food for Cyril and Cyrus. You, too, unless you'd care to join us outside?"

Aurelia shook her head. "Now that Machus is finally catching up on his sleep, I think one of us should stay here, just to be safe."

After breakfast that morning, Vanessa and Aurelia had ganged up on Machus, forcing the bleary-eyed swordfox to admit that he'd caught no more than bare snatches of sleep here and there in the days since Cyrus had been injured. They practically had to banish him from the Infirmary and order him to his room before he would promise to try to get at least a few hours' straight slumber.

Sister Aurelia went on, "It gladdens my heart more than I can say that Cyrus is eating again. For a youngbeast like him, appetite is an important sign of the true state of his health. He's even started asking for solid food, although Machus said he should be kept to mild soups and oatmeal for another day or two. Maybe we can risk giving him some soft flowerbread for dinner this evening ... although I know what Cyrus will probably say to that: 'Flowerbread is for babies!'"

The two mouse ladies shared a chuckle over that. "Yes," Vanessa agreed, "he probably would. Creatures that age don't like to be treated like infants. But I think Cyrus deserves a little babying after what he's been through. Just check with Machus first to make sure we don't feed Cyrus anything we really shouldn't."

"I will, just as soon as he wakes up."

Vanessa clapped her paws to get the attention of everybeast in the Infirmary. "Okay, Cyrus has had enough excitement for this morning. We don't want to tire him out. I suggest we all head down to the lawns to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, and see what Friar Hugh has whipped up for lunch. Sister Aurelia will let us know when Cyrus is up to having more visitors. Come along, come along!"

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Arlyn was the last to leave, since Cyrus found the old Abbot's presence quite comforting, flattered that so esteemed a figure would devote such attention to him. Arlyn lingered with Cyril alongside Cyrus's bed, in part because the recovering young mouse seemed reluctant to see all his friends depart.

"I don't care what Machus and Sister Aurelia say," he protested, "I'm almost completely better! I don't feel at all weak or tired ... well, maybe just a little weak, but that's only 'cos I've been lying in this bed for three days!"

Cyrus was sitting up in his bed, leaning against propped-up pillows, the covers thrown back owning to the warmth of the day. He'd been provided with a lightweight nightshirt to wear over his bandages, just so that he wouldn't be totally unclothed when the inevitable press of well-wishers came to visit him. The loose garment was also convenient, easily lifted up when Aurelia or Machus had to check on his dressings, or change them.

"Why, I bet I could get up and walk around better'n Sister Aurelia could, but she won't let me! Why can't I go outside with everybeast else and have lunch with them?"

"Because," Aurelia said pointedly as she drifted over from across the room, "I said so. You're all sewn up, inside and out, and I don't want you doing anything that might strain your stitches. I don't even like the idea of you sitting up all crosslegged and twisted like you are now. Put your legs out straight, and lie back on your pillows properly. This isn't a sleepover!"

"No, it feels more like a prison," Cyrus grumbled petulently, as he reluctantly assumed the position Aurelia had ordered. Even lying still, her young patient seemed to radiate restlessness.

Aurelia shook her head as she straightened the turned-down bedcovers. "Poor Cyrus. I know how hard it must be for you to lie there on such a beautiful summer day as this. Remember, I was your age once, and not all that many seasons ago, either. Never easy for a youngbeast who wants to take on the world to stay abed until they're properly fit and recovered, but as long as you're my patient, that's exactly what you're going to do!"

"Aw, Sister Aurelia, I don't wanna take on the world, I just wanna get up and walk around a bit! And why'd you 'n' the Abbess send away alla my friends? I don't feel sleepy, an' I'll be bored with nobeast to talk to. Can't at least Cyril and Abbot Arlyn stay?"

"I was planning on letting Cyril stay, considering he hasn't left the Infirmary since you came here and it would probably take Monty's whole otter crew to dislodge him from your bedside. As for Abbot Arlyn, well, he and the Abbess are the only ones at Redwall who outrank me even in my own Infirmary, so he can remain if that's his wish."

"If you want me to stay, Cyrus, I'll happily do so," Arlyn smiled.

"I'd like it if Mr. Geoff could be here too. I haven't seen him since breakfast yesterday. I miss him. I miss helping him read through the histories. I hope my getting hurt hasn't held him up too much with his search through the archives ... "

"Oh, now don't you worry about that for one moment, Cyrus," said Aurelia. "Those archives aren't going anywhere. They'll wait until you're completely fit again."

"If you enjoy reading the records so much," Arlyn offered, "maybe Geoff and I can bring some up here, and you can read them in bed."

"Oh, no," Sister Aurelia piped in. "I don't want this mouse doing one lick of work until he's fully recovered."

"But reading isn't work!" Cyrus protested. "It's fun!"

"And it's something that will keep him occupied while he stays in bed," Arlyn said to the healer mouse. "I would think you'd welcome anything that might quell his restlessness."

"Wellll ... okay," Aurelia relented. "And I'm sure Geoff will be glad to get out of those dusty cellars for awhile. Just as long as he doesn't bring any of that dust up here with him. One good sneeze and Cyrus could rupture his sutures."

"I'll make sure he thoroughly shakes out anything he brings up," Arlyn assured her. "I agree with you about getting Geoff out of those tunnels. Why, ever since he heard Droge singing that silly little Sea Song, he's been spending almost every waking moment down there." The old mouse stood and stretched. "Let me go get him right now. I'm sure he'll welcome the chance to move his work up here, where he can get some fresh air through the Infirmary window and help keep Cyrus company."

As he started for the door, Cyrus called out after him, "Oh, Abbot Arlyn, could you please tell Friar Hugh to send me some real food? I'm hungry, and I'm getting sick of porridge and oatmeal."

"Belay that, Abbot!" Sister Aurelia said. "Machus ordered that Cyrus have only soft foods until that fox says otherwise. The Friar knows what's allowed and what isn't."

"But, Sister Aurelia! I'm hungry!"

"Well, maybe later, if Machus gives his okay, you can have a little flowerbread with your dinner."

"Flowerbread? Aw, that's for babies!"

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The clop of Abbot Arlyn's sandals echoed faintly through the dim tunnel corridor. Up ahead he could see the wan pool of light which would be Geoff working amongst the archive stacks. Already Arlyn could catch a whiff of the nose-tickling drying powder. Sister Aurelia was right; Geoff would have to be very careful not to bring any of that residue up to the Infirmary with him. Cyrus was much more sensitive to the powder than either of the older mice. While Aryln had his doubts that a sneeze or two would put Cyrus in any real danger, it was best not to take any chances.

Arlyn found Geoff sitting at the table, staring down at an ancient parchment clutched in his paws. The recorder mouse didn't even glance up as the Abbot came over to him. Arlyn stood opposite Geoff for several moments, not wanting to disturb him, since the historian seemed to be unusually rapt in what he was reading.

As the moments passed and Geoff still made no move to acknowledge the other's presence, Arlyn studied Geoff's expression more closely. He realized then that Geoff's eyes were fixed upon a single point rather than moving back and forth as they would be if he were actually reading the words upon the parchment. His gaze seemed unfocused, almost as if he were in some kind of trance.

Concerned, Abbot Arlyn cleared his throat. "Uh, Geoff? What is that you've got there?"

This seemed to break the spell. Geoff slowly looked up at Arlyn. But his expression was still peculiar.

"I've found it," he said.

"Oh?" Arlyn brightened. Geoff's attitude had started to worry him, but it was understandable now, if he'd made some important discovery. "What is it? Some clue to what we've been looking for?"

"Not a clue. The answer." Geoff stood, still holding the parchment. "We haven't been able to find anything because there's nothing here to find. Not about Urthblood."

"Um ... " Arlyn hadn't expected that. Not after all the work Geoff had put into this project. "You don't mean to say you're giving up on the archive search?"

Geoff smiled and shook his head, becoming more his old self again. "It's not like that. I'm not quitting out of discouragement. I've actually found something that proves we won't find anything."

"Er, isn't that a bit of a contradiction?"

"You'll understand once I explain it all to you. And I owe it all to Droge and that silly song of his. And Cyrus too, for that comment he made about the Abbey founders not foreseeing General Ironbeak. If not for those two youngsters, I'd still be utterly lost and without a clue."

"Well, Cyrus has been asking after you. I think he's a little disappointed that you haven't visited him more since he's woken up. He's very fond of you, you know. That young lad looks up to you, and you really ought not to let him down."

Geoff's face fell. "Yes, I'll admit I've been remiss in spending time with Cyrus. But I'm afraid I'll have to put him off for just a little longer. I must call a council of the Abbey leaders immediately, to inform you all of what I've found."

"Let me help you round them up, then," Arlyn volunteered. "They're probably all out on the lawns now, enjoying their lunch. We can convene the meeting as soon as the mealtime is over."

"Goodness, is it that late already? It's easy to lose track of time down here." Geoff stepped out from behind the table, parchment in paw. "I guess I should join them for a bite or two ... and perhaps a quick trip up to the Infirmary to visit Cyrus. But we must hold the council as soon afterwards as possible."

Abbot Arlyn ushered Geoff past him and then followed back up the tunnel toward Cavern Hole. The old mouse realized that there was still something of a haunted look around the historian, and wondered anew what Geoff might have read on that parchment that could have affected him so.

"And another thing," Geoff added. "Under no circustances should Machus or Lady Mina be allowed at this council. I might have some things to say about Lord Urthblood that I'm sure they wouldn't like hearing."

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When Vanessa heard the urgency in Geoff's request for a council, she said they may as well get right to it. And so, while everybeast else finished their lunch up on the sunny lawns, Vanessa, Arlyn, Alexander, Montybank, Foremole and Maura joined Geoff around the big table in Cavern Hole.

"Lady Mina was pressing me about whether she ought to be included here," Alex told them. "She even asked whether she should go wake Machus. I assured her that this was a private matter among the regular Redwallers. It was very awkward, telling her she wasn't invited. But you insisted that what you had to tell us might not be appropriate for her to hear, Geoff."

"Um, yes, you probably did the right thing, even if it did put you on the spot a bit," Geoff concurred. "I think my revelation may have made her a little uncomfortable. Machus too."

"Well, Geoff, let's hear it," said Alexander. "We're all here."

"It all started the day Cyrus was wounded," the recorder mouse began. "He was helping me in the archives, and the subject came up about how the ancient Abbey leaders seemed able to foresee some of the crises to come in later generations, such as Matthias needing the sword of Martin to fight Cluny, or Slagar taking Redwall's youngsters away to Malkariss. Cyrus asked casually why they hadn't foreseen General Ironbeak. He thought it was just an idle question, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. Right away I was struck by the sense that Cyrus had stumbled upon something very important. I myself, in all the tales that I have heard told of those days over the seasons, could not remember anything to suggest that Ironbeak had been prophecized by the Abbey founders, or that they'd left any clues that might help us against that particular enemy. Of course, I could not trust mere memory on so vital a point, so the first thing I did was to very carefully read through all the accounts of those days that John Churchmouse had written down. Sure enough, I could find no mention of any warning about Ironbeak left by the the Abbey founders."

"Perhaps there was," Arlyn suggested, "and it was just missed? Those were pretty hectic times, with Matthias off questing after his son Mattimeo, and Redwall under siege from Ironbeak. Some small clue might very easily have been overlooked."

Geoff shook his head. "I don't think so, Abbot. I believe the Abbey founders genuinely failed to foresee General Ironbeak. And I believe I now know why."

His audience was rapt. Vanessa leaned forward expectantly. "Go on, Geoff."

"After General Ironbeak was vanquished, we learned from the survivors of his flock that his chief advisor had been a crow named Mangiz. A seer crow, whose gift of prophetic visions Ironbeak used to plot his actions. When I first read this in the journals, I found it very interesting, but its true importance escaped me.

"Then, I happened to overhear Droge singing the old Sea Song that all Redwall children seem to pick up at one time or another. I'm sure you all know the one I'm talking about ... " Geoff recited, off the top of his head:

"The Sea, o hi! The Sea

The Sea along the shore

Brother Sea, fine Brother Sea

Sail creatures from your door."

"Oh, yes," Maura chortled. "That spiky little scamp's been driving me crazy with it. Sings it over and over, and now he's got all his friends doing it too. May my strength preserve me!"

"I used to drive you crazy with that song myself when I was a child, Maura," old Arlyn said, "as I'm sure you recall. It's been around forever. Although I seem to remember the words as being somewhat different."

"Bo hurr, oi think thurr be more'n one vershun," Foremole said. "Oi wunner which one be roight?"

"None of them are," said Geoff. "It's not a children's verse at all, and it's not about the sea either. Oh, sure, that's what it's become, over the course of more generations than I care to ponder. But the song we know today is based upon a verse that must be nearly as old as Redwall itself."

He gingerly picked up the brittle and musty piece of parchment that lay before him on the table. "I ran across this on the very first day of our archive search. It was inserted inside the front cover of one of the very oldest journals. I had skimmed it at the time and then moved on, not really understanding it. But it must have stuck in some back corner of my mind, because the moment I heard Droge singing the Sea Song, I knew I'd read something very like it, but not like it at all."

"I'm ... I'm afraid you've lost me," said Vanessa.

"It's the words, Nessa," Geoff explained. "The words of the Sea Song only sound like the words of this older verse, especially if you're only half-listening, but the words themselves are completely different."

"I think I know what you're getting at," Arlyn said. "I'm sure we all have the Sea Song clear in our heads. Let's have you read that verse aloud, and we'll no doubt be able to hear what you're talking about."

"Yes, of course. There are actually four verses here. Two are written on the back; I didn't even discover those until just this morning. It's only the first verse that's the basis for the Sea Song, but I'll read them all, since I feel the whole thing is very important." Geoff cleared his throat and began:

"The Seer hides the Seer

From seers gone before

Prophecy blinds prophecy

Veils future evermore.

Where the Prophet walks

No prophet past may see

The power of his presence

Eclipses what will be.

The path of time lies open

Along its span of years

But where the Prophet stands

The future disappears.

No warning can be given

For ills that may befall

During times unseen

Where the Shadow falls."

For long moments nobeast spoke, as they all disgested and mulled over what Geoff had read. Alexander's bushy tail twitched in agitated contemplation, and Foremole scratched at his head with a digging claw.

"Oh, my," Arlyn said, breaking the silence at last. "Now I know why you looked that way when I found you down in the archives."

"It all sounds very dire," Maura admitted, "but I confess I've never been very good at word games or verse. Guess I'm just too practical-minded. What does it mean?"

"I find it pretty straightforward, and not all that cryptic." Geoff glanced down at the parchment. "What I think the author of this verse was trying to tell us is that there are times when prophecy won't work, where the future is closed to prophetic sight. And it gives the reason: one prophet cannot foresee another prophet who comes later, or look into the events of that later prophet's life. If this is true, it explains why our founders never warned us about Ironbeak. His counselor was a seer himself. The visionary power of Mangiz would have cloaked his master Ironbeak from any past prophet's future sight. The early Redwall leaders could not have known about Ironbeak, because his very existence would have been veiled from their vision."

Monty gave a low whistle of amazement. "That's well nigh unbelievable, Geoff matey."

"But, our founders must have known something," Vanessa said. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have left us with any warning at all about the limitations of prophecy."

Geoff shrugged. "Perhaps they looked forward to certain times and could see only blackness, or a gray void ... or a shadow, like it says in the verse. Maybe they couldn't see the times of the coming prophets themselves, but could see the results of those times, and knew there must be some tumultuous events that were hidden from them."

"Tumultuous events, eh?" Vanessa echoed. "Like this 'greatest of all crises' that Urthblood says may soon be upon us."

"Which brings us right up to the present," said Geoff. "If Mangiz really did conceal Ironbeak from our forebears, then naturally they could not have foreseen Urthblood either. The visit by his entire army to Redwall would have been cloaked by his power of prophecy. And if he plays any major part in some war or upheaval to come, that too would have been beyond the ability of Martin the Warrior or Abbess Germaine to predict, even though it might affect all lands. Which is why I propose to end my search of the archives. There simply won't be anything there to find about these times. There can't be. This document proves it."

"This raises some interesting questions," said Arlyn. "Would Lord Urthblood's power obscure him alone, or does it also extend to the creatures he has met or known? Will his one vist to Redwall hide this entire period of our history from our forerunners, or is his shadow lifted from our home now that he has departed?"

"He still has troops here," Geoff reminded them. "We're a part of his plans now. I would guess that his prophetic veil hangs over us still, and perhaps for a long time to come."

"Even more than Redwall," said Vanessa, "what about the rest of the lands? He's told us he has traveled very widely, and even spent some time at sea. Can it be that every place he has visited in his life, every creature he has ever been in contact with, will as a result have been hidden to prophets of earlier generations?"

"And we badgers live a long time," Maura said. "As much as four times as long as mice and other woodland creatures."

"Which could mean," Arlyn picked up, "that an entire period of Mossflower history would have been forever closed to our ancestors. We may indeed be facing a time of unparalleled war and strife, and there would have been no way for those who came before to have left any warning for us."

"It may go far beyond even that." Geoff scanned the parchment. "There are hints here that our founders might not have been able to glimpse any events at all after the coming of Urthblood. The last line of the first verse in particular: 'Veils future evermore.' But there are others. The second verse begins, 'Where the Prophet walks, no prophet past may see.' Now, does that mean that no prophet of the past can see those times, or that no prophet would be able to see past them at all? The exact meaning is hazy. And skipping down to the end of the third verse: 'Where the Prophet stands, The future disappears.' It's also interesting to note that most of the time the word 'prophet' is capitalized, as if referring to one in particular. Perhaps this verse was written with Urthblood in mind. In any event, there seems to be a strong possibility that our founders' vision might not have been able to penetrate through Urthblood's barrier to any times following ours. They could see only so far into Redwall's future, and we are now past that point."

"Which would mean that we're on our own," said Vanessa. "Never again can we expect help from those who came before us."

"Not in their prophecies," Arlyn quickly put in. "But I am confident that the spirit of Martin watches over us still, and always will. Perhaps, once Urthblood no longer walks this earth, Martin will give us new prophecies to leave for our descendants."

Vanessa said, "Well, I for one feel as if my entire world has been turned upside down. If our founders truly were incapable of seeing any events past these times, it's ... it's like the end of an age. The First Age of Redwall, now come to an end. Which means destiny has chosen us as the stewards to usher in the Second Age of our Abbey. What lies ahead we cannot guess. We can only meet these challenges as best we can, and hope to prevail against evil just as Redwall has always done."

"What bothers me," said Geoff, "is that Urthblood comes from a long line of Salamandastron Badger Lords who have a deep history of omens and prophecies. They would know more of such matters than anybeast. He must have suspected what effect he would have if he came here. So why did he?"

"What choice did he have?" Alexander responded. "He foresaw a great crisis, and felt we had to be warned. Remember, he's not just spreading news of his dire prophecy; he's working to try to change it, and he will need our help to do that. For all that's been said here, I haven't heard anybeast suggest that maybe Lord Urthblood isn't doing exactly what our founders would have wanted. An alliance between Redwall and Salamandastron makes sense, in times of peace or war. I think it's folly to question his character, just on the basis of some quirk of prophecy over which he has no control."

Geoff addressed his old squirrel friend. "That certainly was not my purpose in calling this council, Alex. I wished only to explain why our founders could not have left us any clue about this coming crisis, and why I've decided to suspend my search of the archives. I'll admit, there are many questions that remain unanswered. But as for Urthblood's motives, there are better judges of character than I at this table, and I doubt any of us can say for sure what goes on in his mind, or his heart."

"I tend to agree with Alex," offered Maura. "If some monumental crisis is truly looming on our horizon, what better ally could we ask for than a Badger Lord of Salamandastron, who commands an army the likes of which has never been seen? And as for this being the start of a new age, well, hasn't Lord Urthblood said as much himself? He's working to end ways that are far older than even Redwall, bad ways that have creatures pitted against each other in constant war and strife. I would gladly call foxes, weasels and rats friends if we could all share a peace where each respects the other. Lord Urthblood seeks to create such a peace, and I for one think we should give him all the help that we can. We are unsettled because our predecessors were blinded to these times, but that does not necessarily mean calamity lies ahead. A new age? If Urthblood succeeds, it could be a golden age that our ancestors dared never dream or hope might come to pass."

"Yes," old Arlyn conceded, "but what trials will we have to endure before we reach that golden age?"

"It will be worth it," Maura replied with confidence, "if it means many generations after ours can enjoy peace and plenty."

"Still, there are questions," Vanessa said. "How does this conflict between Urthblood and Urthfist fit into all of this? That can only end badly, unless Winokur has unqualified success at playing peacemaker. If only there were some way to talk to that otter right now, so we could get his feelings about all that he has seen on his march with Urthblood so far. They must be almost to Salamandastron by now. I do hope he is all right. I wonder what kind of experiences he's been having on his journey?"