(A/N: I recently realized that the way dibbuns are aged works differently in the books than in real life children. I referred to Barabell as being three years old in the first chapter. That was because I had converted her to human years. In the Redwall world, she's about a few seasons old; we'll say 5 and a half.)
3
The sight of Redwall Abbey took Barabell's breath away. The young vixen and her adopted mother had arrived at the Abbey just as the sun was beginning to set. Barabell looked around, and saw many other creatures of all shapes and sizes. But not only was she staring at the other creatures, Barabell was also being stared at. Many of the guests murmured to each other in surprise and confusion. What on Earth was a fox doing at Redwall Abbey amongst the goodbeasts? Unbeknownst to Barabell, Agatha glanced at her fellow goodbeasts.
"Please," she prayed mentally. "Let this night go well."
Barabell and Agatha entered the great Abbey and walked down the Great Hall. Barabell paused when she saw the Great Tapestry that hung from the wall.
"Mum, look," the dibbun said, pointing to the tapestry with her paw. "What's that?"
Agatha knelt beside Barabell, and gazed at what Barabell had been pointing at. A smile appeared on her muzzle.
"Oh, that's the Great Tapestry," the hedgehog maiden explained. "Do you see that mouse up there? That's the old hero, Martin the Warrior. He existed long before our time, and protected Redwall. Many warriors followed in his pawsteps. But so many years have passed since the death of the last warrior. Things have been so peaceful, that the idea of a warrior had faded in the minds of the Abbey mice. But Martin's sword still remains here at Redwall for when the new warrior comes."
Barabell had stopped listening to Agatha around the moment she began talking about the other warriors. Not that she didn't find Agatha's talking boring, but rather, she had noticed something interesting about the tapestry.
"Mum," she began. "What are those things running from Martin? They look like me. Are they foxes?"
Agatha hesitated. This was very touchy territory the dibbun was treading on.
"Well…yes, Barabell, they are foxes."
"Does Martin hate foxes?"
"Well…" Agatha struggled to find an appropriate answer. "Well, no. He just hates what foxes and other vermin do to him and his fellow goodbeasts."
Barabell didn't reply, but simply stared at Martin, a burning hatred growing inside her.
"Vermin am I?" she thought. "Fine. I didn't like you anyway."
She walked away, the lashing of her tail proving to Agatha that she had annoyed the dibbun. With a sigh, the hedgehog maiden followed her. It wasn't long before they both entered Cavern Hole. A great wooden table rested there, with the Mossflower and Redwall beasts sitting and conversing. Barabell looked around, and finally saw the huge, , grey-furred, brown-habit-wearing mouse that was Abbot Nicholas. Barabell's anger left her quickly as she remembered the gift she had brought for the Abbot. She tugged Agatha's dress.
"Mummy, mummy! Can I go give the "Aboot" my gift now?"
Agatha, relieved to see Barabell back to her eager self, nodded.
"Of course, my dear," she said. "And it's pronounced, "Abbot", not "Aboot", alright?"
With a small nod, Barabell made her way through Cavern Hall. As she approached the Abbot, she saw other beats putting down gifts before him. A family of moles presented him with clay pottery, some squirrels gave him a whisker comb made of bark, and a lovely bouquet of forest flowers was brought to him by a young dormouse maiden. Barabell gripped her drawing in her paws, and stood before the mouse. Abbot Nicholas' eyes widened slightly. Like the other creatures, he too was surprised to see a fox in his Abbey. But, she seemed to be civilized and good, so Nicholas wouldn't deny her.
"Hello, young one," he greeted politely.
Barabell bowed politely, unable to speak before such a creature of power. The Abbot let out a low chuckle.
"Don't be afraid of me. Tell me, what's your name?"
"Barabell Prickle, Mr. Father "Aboot"…I mean, "Abbot"!"
"Nice to meet you, Barabell," the Abbot said. "Your surname sound familiar. Are you with a Ms. Agatha Prickle?"
Barabell nodded. Abbot Nicholas gazed off into the distance. Barabell assumed he was looking for Agatha.
"I see," murmured Abbot Nicholas. He looked back down at Barabell. "What are you holding there, young one."
Barabell glanced at the drawing in her paws, and gasped. She then presented it to the Abbot, and stepped back, waiting patiently for feedback. Abbot Nicholas looked at the drawing. His eyes widened, a smile formed on his muzzle, and he let out a merry laugh. Barabell tilted her head, unsure of what to make of this reaction. Abbot Nicholas set down the drawing in his lap and beamed at Barabell.
"My dear, I don't believe anyone's ever given me such a lovely gift," he said. "I'm flattered, honestly."
Barabell felt herself grow warm under her fur. She fiddled with her tail and smiled up at the Father sheepishly.
"Thank you, sir," she said softly.
"Of course, young one," the old mouse replied. "Now, go on back to Agatha. The festivities will begin shortly. I hope to see you again."
With a polite curtsy, Barabell returned to her adopted mother, who was sitting at the table and talking to the Abbey's cellerkeeper, a male hedgehog named Patrick.
"Come now, my lady," said Patrick with a flirtatious tone in his voice. "One drink of ale with cellerkeeper Patrick will do you some good."
"Oh, I don't know," replied Agatha. "I have a young one now. I don't want to her to pick up a bad habit."
"What's ale, Mum?" asked Barabell as she sat in the empty seat beside Agatha.
The hedgehog maiden jumped and faced Barabell, not realizing that she had been listening.
"Er…it's a grown-up's drink, sweetie," the hedgehog explained. "Don't worry about it. You aren't allowed to drink it, understood."
Barabell was puzzled, but nodded. Patrick managed to get a peek at Barabell, a curious look in his eyes.
"Well, 'ello there, little foxmaiden." He greeted. "The name's Patrick, Mr. Patrick to you."
"Hello, sir," replied Barabell with a nod.
"It's quite a sight to see a fox dibbun sitting amongst us like this. I remember a tale of a fox taking residence in the Abbey long ago. Poor old Brother Methuselah. The fox had mur-"
Patrick cut himself off when Agatha shot him a glare. Barabell had wished the cellerkeeper had continued, but it was clear that Agatha wouldn't have any of it.
"Er…" the male hedgehog quickly tried to change the subject. "Fancy a bit of strawberry cordial, Barabell? The young ones love it."
The vixen received a mug of the pink liquid. She took a curious sniff, and took a sip. The flavors danced on her tongue, and her eyes brightened.
"Mmm!" she purred, gulping down the drink. She set down the mug after drinking the cordial, and burped. "Pardon. May I have some more?"
"You should save room for the rest of the meal, my sweet," Agatha suggested. "It'll come soon. But first, look!"
Barabell obeyed, and her mouth fell open in awe when she saw an strangely dressed otter leaping over her head. Other others followed behind. Cheers of excitement came from the other creatures.
"Oh, Mum!" Barabell cried. "What are those?"
"Those are the otter acrobats," explained Agatha. "They perform every Jubilee. Look at them go!"
Barabell watched in interest as the otters leaped and gyrated all about Cavern Hole. It truly was a sight. When the performance had ended, Barabell clapped excitedly. Just then, there was the sound of a chair moving beside the vixen. Barabell turned her head, and felt her heart stop. Sitting down in the seat next to her was a large badgermaid. Barabell had never seen a badger before, and the sight was absolutely terrifying. It didn't help that the badger wouldn't stop giving her a dangerous glare. Barabell swallowed and looked down. She heard her adopted mother start a conversation with the badger.
"Hello, Whitney, my dear friend," Agatha had begun. "I see you've met my young one."
"Yes," replied Whitney, her voice low and hostile. "I have. And I'm keeping an eye on her, just so you know."
"I can see that." Agatha had grown a cautious tone in her voice.
"I hope you've told her about my little companion."
Barabell dared to look up, and flinched when she saw a large, wooden pallet in the badger's paw.
"That won't be necessary, thank you," Agatha reassured. "My Barabell is well-behaved, just like any dibbun."
"We shall see," Whitney said. "But I have my doubts. I never trust a vermin."
Whitney got up from her chair, and slowly walked off. The section of the table Barabell and Agatha sat at was filled with an awkward silence. Barabell let out a breath she had been holding for a while, and she felt a tear running down her face. Agatha rested a paw on her back.
"Barabell-"
The vixen pulled away, slipping under the table. Under the cover of the tablecloth, she allowed more tears of fear and angst seep from her eyes. Suddenly, there was a yank at her tail. Barabell quickly wiped her face, and turned to see a young red squirrel, a male, looking about her age. He wore a large pair of glasses that made his reddish-brown eyes appear much larger than normal.
"Wh-who are you?" Barabell sniffled.
"Name's Caleb, cousin," the squirrel introduced himself cheerfully. "Caleb Redtussle. Who might you be?'
"Barabell Prickle, replied the vixen softly. "And I don't think we're cousins…"
"You sure?" Caleb asked, tilting his head. "We both have the bushy tails, the red fur, and the skinny bodies. We've got to be related."
"I don't think so, sorry."
"Pity. I always wanted a relative."
"I'm your relative, nut-breath!"
The owner of the new voice appeared. It was a young squirrelmaid, who appeared a bit older than Caleb. Caleb stuck out his tongue.
"I mean, I've always wanted a GOOD relative."
The squirrelmaid returned the insulting gesture, and looked at Barabell.
"So you're the fox everyone's talking about, huh?" she said, an ugly sort of tone in her voice. "Humph. You smell like trouble. No wonder Whitney gave you that talkin' to."
"Bugger off, Rachelle," Caleb snapped. "No one asked for your attitude."
"This coming from the squirrel who thinks a fox is his cousin."
"Well, I didn't know, ok?"
Barabell had snuck away after Rachelle's insult. She didn't want to be bothered anymore. She returned to her head, where Agatha was waiting for her. She kissed the young one's head.
"My sweet," Agatha cooed. "I know you're upset. But you mustn't let it get in the way of your first Jubilee. Forget about what happened. Look, the food is arriving."
Barabell wished to ask Agatha why she was being treated the way she was. But the smell of food temporarily distracted her. The vixen decided to wait until they had gotten home to question her adopted mother.
Cavern Hole was rich in the scents of fruits, cheeses, and other sorts of smells, as pretty mousemaids from the Abbey kitchen set the large table with bowls and plates of food. Barabell watched with wide eyes as the mousemaids moved about quickly, covering every inch of the wooden table with something delectable. There were sandwiches and breads set down alongside soups and stews. Meals containing shrimp (courtesy of the local otters) caught the vixen's eye. Barabell's mouth began to water as her hunger began to take over. But then the finally came the main course of the feast: a large fish pulled from the Abbey pond's waters. Its scent overpowered all the other ones in Barabell's nose. Cavern Hole fell silent as the Father Abbot stood.
"Let us pray:
"Fur and whisker, tooth and claw,
All who enter by our door.
Nuts and herbs, leaves and fruits,
Berries, tubers, plants and roots,
Silver fish whose life we take
Only for a meal to make."
There was a loud, "Amen" by all in Cavern Hole.
Abbey's Head Cook, a tall, tan he-mouse named Friar Casker, stood before Abbot Nicholas, alongside the fish he had prepared. With a polite bow, he spoke in a soft, yet powerful voice.
"My dear Father Abbot," he began. "You've served the Abbey, and led us for many years. Please, allow me to repay you for your work, by serving you the first portion of my masterpiece, the "Honey-Glazed Perch"."
Speaking his piece (the most the normally quiet Friar had spoken all year), Casker took a plate, a fork, and a knife, cut a portion of fish (while the other creatures listened hungrily at the honey glaze's satisfying crackle), and served it to his Abbot. Abbot Nicholas nodded gratefully, and cut a piece of the fish. He brought the morsel to his lips, and ate it. He chewed for a while, before swallowing, letting out a sigh of content.
"Friar Casker, my friend," the Abbot began. "You have served many fine meals in your time. But none of them come close to being as delicious as this marvelous fish you've prepared. Please bless everyone in Cavern Hole with your dish."
There were cheers as the main course was finally served to everyone. Barabell excitedly watched as a portion of fish was given to her. The vixen grabbed some nut bread and butter, while Agatha placed some salad on her plate.
"Eat up, Barabell," Agatha chirped.
