Beth, was assigned photography duty. The Nikon camera Bulfie passed onto her was quite heavy in her paws. The zoom lens alone seemed to be bigger than she. Both the ferret and her father had explained the importance, of photographing every detail of the dig.
"Remember Beth, these aren't Facebook photos." Dan warned, watching his daughter get used to the feel of the camera. The young squirrel took several experimental shots. When her father's back was turned, she held the camera out posing for a shot herself.
The hare and otter emerged once more from the trailer. Beth hastily tried to look busy, taking photos of the site. Dr. Lockben adjusted his suspenders, pacing about the grid and nodding approvingly.
"Well done Chaps. Now then Miss, keep taking those snaps. Don't worry about taking too many. Best to have too many than too few wot?" he smiled, and climbed over the lines to join the others.
Bulfie looked up, tugging an ear to Lockben. "Look at dis. Seems our matey Bob has more t' tell us. Or should I say 'tenant Bob." He waved a paw to the young squirrel. "Take a photo o' this missie." He set out a small ruler and showed the girl how to photograph the scraps of fabric.
Lockben took his glasses out of his breast pocket, kneeling down to get a better look at the rank marks from the sleeve. "It does appear to be the marks of a Long Patrol Lieutenant, any other indentifying markers. Would be ideal if we could sort out who this chap was."
The ferret looked over the now, nearly fully exposed body. "No name indicated on what remains of his uniform. Although his rank may tell us something. If we could get our paws on the Long Patrol records, there may be a casualties list. It was during the rule of Lord Russano that detailed records were kept at Salamandastron."
"Ah yes, but remember Daclaw, these creatures served under Lady Cregga the first. Lord Russano, was but a babe when these beasts perished. There may not be complete records. Even if there were, Salamandastron is rather protective of who has access to their historical documents. It is far more difficult to get ones paws on those, than it is to see the records of Redwall Abbey." The hare spoke, slowly getting back to his paws.
"Ah, but we do know somebeast, who just might be able to get the records." Wally smiled knowingly. "Jenny Balid."
"Ms. Balid?" Dr. Lockben's ears flexed upright. "I didn't think she was interested in this project." He sniffed, turning up his nose.
"Jen, not interested in this. " Wally motioned to the bones of the long dead hare. "This is the sort of thing she lives for."
Beth looped the strap of the camera about her neck. Nudging her father, she whispered. "Who're they talking about?"
Dan smiled, whispering a quick reply. "Jenifer is another historian. She writes mostly. A few seasons back, she published her first book on Salamandastron and The Long Patrol, gained quite a bit of attention for it. "
Lockben huffed, puffing up his pouch like cheeks. "I still have my doubts, that she will be able to get any access. Although I suppose it won't hurt to bally well try."
Hours seemed to pass, and Beth continued to follow her assigned task. She did hope that her father or one of the others might permit her to participate in the dig, as photography was quickly losing its luster. The sun was creeping higher and higher over the ridge site. Checking her watch, it seemed to be nearly midday. They would be breaking for lunch soon, however it appeared Beth was the only one to notice. The other four were busy working away, tiny trowels and brushes carefully moving miniscule amounts of soil. Wally had set up a sifting screen, to ensure no tiny artifact had gone missing. The young squirrel slumped on the grass, listening to the muffled conversations.
At last the boring doldrums were interrupted when Bulfie stood upright on his hind paws. Holding up his trowel he loudly announced. "Found another one!"
All paws quickly hurried to the ferret's side, even Beth was anxious to see what he found. Of course her excitement was short lived, when all there was to see, was the remains of a bedroll wrapped around what appeared to be another uniform.
"There's a body in all that?" Beth was skeptical at the small protruding fabric.
Dr. Lockben nodded."Of course m'dear gel. If that bit of fabric is what I suspect it is, I should think the creature was very young when he died. "Motioning that Beth should take photographs he continued explaining. "The practice pre-dates this period of course. There are some absolutely beautifully preserved examples in northern hare burial sites. When a leveret or young hare died while travelling, the others would wrap them up in their bedroll before setting them in the earth. "He continued as the young squirrel finished taking pictures and looked up in interest. "Perhaps you've noticed all the hares we've found were facing west?"
Beth hadn't noticed this, but continued to listen closely to the hare.
"When Long Patrol hares, die in battle away from their home. They lay looking back t'wards their mountain. However, when they perish on the shores of Salamandastron they are laid to rest facing away from the mountain. Even in death, they protect the place dontcha know."
"I didn't know that sir." Beth smiled politely.
"It will be interesting if we find any Redwallers on this site. I wonder if they too will face west, or pointed towards the Abbey?" Dan wondered looking up from where he dusted away at the bones of one of the long dead hares.
There were murmurs of agreement from the others, all equally curious as to the positioning of bodies. Wally pulled out a notebook from his back pocket, and hastily began making notes. Checking his watch he noticed the time.
"Goodness, mates we're gonna miss lunch if we keep up like this." Tucking a pencil behind his ear he brushed some of the dirt from his paws.
Beth had anxiously waited for somebeast to point this tiny detail out. She was famished, not to mention a little bored watching the others work. Her father sat back rubbing his knees. To himself, he lamented his days of youth, when his joints could withstand this crouching and bending far easier.
"No need for us all to leave. We could pick something up in town. Any suggestions?" The squirrel looked to his friends for their opinions.
Bulfie tucked his trowel into his work belt. "'suppose I'll do the run this time round. Fish 'n Chips work for everybeast?"
The hare raised a paw clearing his throat. He was about to speak, when the ferret cut him off.
"Right, extra large summer salad, dressing on the side, and lots of walnuts. " Bulfie winked knowing the hare's tastes all too well.
"Humph, indeed." Dr. Lockben set back to work, his nose twitched at the ferrets impertinence.
Dan nodded, "Sounds fine by me. Say, take Beth with you?"
The young squirrel perked up, at the prospect of going out to run the simple errand. Bulfie shrugged and motioned for her to follow. "Come along young 'un." He smiled and brushed his paws off in his jeans.
Wally called out to them as they walked towards the car. "Watch it now missie ferrets are notoriously bad drivers." Again Bulfie made a rude paw motion, and then unlocked the car doors.
It felt a little strange to Beth sitting in the front left seat. She buckled the seatbelt and casually looked around the car's interior. In the rear seats she spied two booster seats. One predominately blue, with a print of pirate ships on the fabric. The other purple with a princess theme.
"How old are your kids?" She asked as the ferret pulled away from the make-shift drive way.
Bulfie paused a moment, then catching sight of the seats in the rearview mirror, smiled. "My daughter Raddi, is seven seasons old. An'me little fella, Rinn, will be five in a few weeks. "As he spoke it was plain to see the pride he had for his young children.
As the car meandered though the woodland roads few words passed between the teenage squirrel and the ferret. It seemed Bulfie had a particular interest in folk music. The CD playing was a collection of shanties, ballads and reels. Nothing Beth recognized, not that she was especially well versed in such things. Every now and again she would peer over and see the ferret mouthing the words.
"Now Flinky was a wise 'un, as any stoat could find.
For foxes or for searats this beastie paid no mind.
T'was in the woods o' Mossflower he commenced his wild career.
An' many a foolish fox would do smart t'lend an ear.
The stoats are going over the stoats are going down.
All heading down to southlands where food and drink abound.
Oh, the stoats are going over the stoats are going down.
All heading down to southlands where food and drink abound."
"What's that song about?" Beth asked as an instrumental reel of fiddles and drums picked up.
"'tis an old song, 'bout a clever stoat an' his mate who outwit some searats and travel south with a small band of robbers." Bulfie explained, smiling at the squirrel's curiosity.
As Beth soon learned, most of the songs carried the same themes. Many of the songs even borrowed from the same tune. All focused around the antics, or crimes of various ferrets, stoats or weasels. Tales of: highway-beasts, pick-pockets, or military deserters. Two or three more songs went by, before the car pulled up to a small restaurant.
They got out, and found the take out line-up to be rather long. However, the other creatures seemed to be moving quickly. There was the strong smell of cooking oils, chips and vinegar on the air. The other beasts in line were mostly otters, with a scattering of shrews and bank voles. Bulfie was the only ferret; Beth never thought anything of this at first. Then, as they continued to wait in line, she couldn't help but notice eyes falling upon the pair of them. It was uncomfortable to say the least. The family of voles that arrived moments before kept shuffling forward, wanting to keep distance between them and the ferret. After a time, if was at last their turn to place an order. Bulfie strode forward, smiling pleasantly at the shrew working at the order counter.
"Hello mate, I'll 'ave four orders o' fish 'n chips. One with hotroot seasoning on the chips. Also one o' those extra large summer salads, lots of walnuts and dressing on the side please. "
The shrew glanced up from his stool behind the counter. He eyed the ferret a moment before typing the order into the cash register. "Out o'hotroot seasoning." He muttered.
"What? Out of hotroot seasoning?" Bulfie spoke up, loud enough for others in line to hear. "Sure, the only reason I comes 'ere, is for that." He eyed a number of otters waiting to be served.
"All out." The shrew spoke again.
The ferret suspected this shrew wanted him out of the shop as quickly as possible, rather than take the extra time to prepare his order. Smiling politely he turned casually to face he cue behind him. "Sorry mates, looks like they're out o'hotroot seasoning."
A group of otters that had arrived together, held a quick conference, and left the restaurant. Otters were known for their love of the spicy seasoning, many would include it in every meal. If there was no hotroot to be had here, they weren't going to order. Watching customers leaving, the shrew became nervous. Hastily he hopped down from his stool and scurried into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a large plastic container, containing the prized ingredient. Climbing up onto his stool the shrew announced.
"Look, just went t'the kitchen, seems we had some left after all." Of course, he wasn't addressing Bulfie; his announcement was aimed at keeping the many otter customers from leaving.
Beth carried the paper bags of take out, spicy chips and all. She was a little concerned about what had happened in the restaurant. "Why did that shrew lie to us?"
Opening the car doors, the ferret helped hold the food so she could buckle her seatbelt. "He just wanted us to leave is all."
"But why?"
Bulfie sighed, and started the engine. "Well, ducky, I'm a ferret. Some folks ain't comfortable around ferrets, stoat or weasels. They're even less comfortable around rats and foxes. I 'suppose when y' build your cultural identity up on being baddies, things just tend t' stick."
"But you're not bad." Beth interjected.
"Naw, I guess not. But, we vermin don't exactly blend in."
The young squirrel was shocked that Bulfie would use the word vermin. It was largely considered a rude term, by modern standards. In all of her classes, teachers referred to the group by species name, rather than lumping them all together. This of course took up a lot of text, and time, to rattle off all the species that woodlanders historically fought against, but it avoided the rude V word.
"Y'see Beth, the crime rate is higher among us than any other group of beasts. In the news the other day it was announced there are more rats and foxes, on government assistance than any other species. I'm the first ferret in me family t' graduate high school. First t'even go to university. All me mates from me old neighbourhood 'ave either been in prison, or currently are. 'tis easy for them to fear us. In the over two hundred years since we stopped fighting one another, we 'ain't exactly tried t'fit in." Bulfie spoke slowly, then paused and smiled.
"Don't worry yer head about none o' that. An' hold on t'the food. Don't want it falling all over the place."