Gellar was in a foul mood. His vermin had gotten lazy when they arrived in Mossflower. Used to the harsh climates of the western desert, the horde lay about living of the rich land, picking fruits and eating roast birds. Gellar stood up.
"Attention!" he barked. The army scrambled to their ranks. Gellar stalked through the horde. "You have gotten fat and lazy," he roared. "Laying about, amusing yourselves with silly little games. You, Mudcoat!" He turned to a brown weasel who was in the back of the army, teasing a small ant by holding a mushroom right above its waving feelers. "When was the last time you tortured a real beast, not some silly insect?" Mudcoat stood rigid.
"N-not since we stopped in this forest. Besides, we haven't anything else to do." he stammered. Gellar sneered. "That was the wrong thing to say." Before the unlucky weasel could react, Gellar had drawn a dagger from his belt and thrown it at his victim. Mudcoat died without a sound. Gellar turned to the rest of the horde. "Does anybeast have anything else to say?" he snapped. Nobeast moved a muscle. "Good." Gellar walked back to his place with Sandero.
"Sandero, what do your omens say?" he asked. Sandero reared up and swayed his head side to side. "My omensss sssay that you will sssoonnn be the massster of the ssword." Gellar smiled, pleased with the snake's lies. He turned over and closed his eyes. "Tomorrow we will go to Redwall. We will ask for the sword. Those soft-hearted woodlanders will be so scared of our horde that they just might hand it over. Tomorrow!"
Drugann the Skipper of Otters was standing at the gate of Redwall, with his friend Wora, the squirrel. They had been helping in the kitchens with Friar Hern, but the kind Friar had insisted that they take a break. So they were lounging around, munching apples, when they saw Erra running towards them, followed by a ferret.
"Shiver me timbers!" Drugann leaped up, drawing a dagger. "Vermin are chasing Erra! Come on, matey, let's take care of this scoundrel!" Wora took out her slingshot with a pouch of stones, and they stood, aiming their weapons at Arethra. Erra saw them, and stopped Arethra.
"Stop," she warned. "That's Drugann the Skipper, you know, leader, of otters. And that's his friend, Wora, a squirrel. Careful now, they don't know you're my friend. She made a signal with her paws, and Arethra's would-be attackers let down their weapons. They ran over to her. "Can't you see?" Wora said angrily. "We're trying to protect you from that ferret." She seized Arethra by the shoulders. "Don't hurt her," Erra shouted. "She's my friend." Drugann shook his head. "Get some sense into your head, lass." He pointed at Arethra's chest."Remember what Hern told you about vermin. They can't be trusted!" Arethra looked around. She was startled, but had never seen an otter or squirrel up close before. Besides, she trusted Erra to protect her. "Her name is Arethra," said Erra. "I fell into a ditch when I was collecting wild mint, and she helped me up. She also gave me some mint she was collecting, to give to Hern. Please let her stay with the Abbey. She's been in Mossflower for her entire life. Arethra's harmless." Wora and Drugann exchanged glances. "We'll take your little friend to the Mother Abbess. She'll know what to do," Wora said. Erra agreed. The otter and the squirrel placed themselves on each side of the ferret. They marched her into the Abbey.
The Abbeybeasts were alarmed at seeing a ferret in their Abbey. Loran and Jana, Erra's mother, walked up to them. "What is the meaning of this?" Jana demanded. "Why is my daughter with vermin?" Drugann saluted the Abbess. "Exactly what we were wondering, Mother. Erra claims that this ferret, Arethra, has been living in Mossflower and is harmless. She says that Arethra helped her out of a ditch and gave her wild mint for Friar Hern's Springcake. Erra wants her to live here." Loran studied Arethra. Her heart softened when she saw that the ferret was only a child around Erra's age. "She may stay here for the feast. If her behavior is acceptable, Arethra may certainly live here with us. You must treat her as an honored guest." Arethra nodded and smiled. She wasn't worried that Loran might think her behavior was not "acceptable". She wanted to see all the moles and squirrels the birds and Erra had told her about.
Friar Hern and his helpers had outdone themselves. The Springcake was the centerpiece of the occasion. It was taller than three Dibbuns stacked on top of each other(Indi the mousebabe and his friends Rodo and Celly had proved that.) It was covered with a thick layer of golden meadowcream. Arranged on top was a ring of fake edible flowers, made out of sliced cherries with orange halves for the centers. Arethra's wild mint(after having been tested by the Healer, Ornae the bankvole, for poison) was arranged in a beautiful wreath on each layer of the cake. In the center of the flowers on the topmost layer was a sun, created with candied chestnuts and candied rose petals. There were also several colorful cheeses, studded with hazelnuts, herbs and chopped apples. Arethra was not disappointed; she saw moles and squirrels aplenty. She also marveled at the hedgehogs' spikes. However, it was the excellent fare that wowed her most. She had never tasted anything but salvaged roots and mushrooms, and wondered at how the Abbey brewers managed to take the sweetness of various fruits and put them into drinks. The spring vegetable soup was also impressive. The young ferret was even brave enough to try a bowl of the otters' favorite watershrimp and hotroot soup, with twice as much hotroot pepper. After that, as the current Cellarhog
Ergo Spikkle put it, "she must've drunken an entire barrel of fizzy strawberry cordial!"
After the feast, Erra took Arethra on a tour around the Abbey. She showed her the Infirmary, the dormitory(where they spent a happy hour playing with the Dibbuns)
and the Abbey grounds. When they got back to the Great Hall, Arethra noticed the tapestry of Martin the Warrior for the first time. "Who's that?" asked Arethra. Erra clapped a paw to her head. "Great Scott!" she cried. "I've forgotten to introduce you to Martin the Warrior!" She sat down. "Long ago, before Redwall Abbey was built, Mossflower was ruled by Lord Verduaga Greeneyes, a wildcat. He died and his daughter, Lady Tsarmina, accused her brother Gingivere of murder and threw him into prison. Martin the Warrior came from the lands to the north and helped overthrow Tsarmina. He himself killed her by driving her into a lake. He died long ago, but his spirit still lingers in the Abbey and gives help in time of need. That sword is the blade he used to free us." Erra pointed at a sword mounted above the tapestry. Arethra looked at the grand-looking sword. She admired the silver crosstrees, the black hilt, and the red pommelstone. "If vermin saw that, they'd probably want to steal it." she remarked. Erra nodded. "It's been stolen by sparrows, vermin and others in the past," she replied. "But it's always been retrieved by faithful Abbeybeasts. I hate to think of the next vermin to try stealing it. " Meanwhile, the next vermin to attempt to take it was lying awake, dreaming of the terrible things he would do with the sword.