The stained-glass windows rained down cascades of color, drenching the cool grey stone floors in their vibrant light. Samuel raced through the cavernous halls of Redwall Abbey, splashing through the puddles of color with youthful indifference as if his mind weren't attuned to the beauty he was rushing through. He had been busy rereading the manuscripts of the legend of Martin the Warrior when he was abruptly reminded that he was late to meet with Abbot Micah and Sister Beryl for the fourth day of harvest. This wasn't the first time, in fact, it was more like the fifth or sixth, and he was sure the abbot would have something to say because of it. Samuel huffed to himself and picked up his pace. Being the Abbey historian had come with its benefits. Safety within the Abbey walls, good food and friends, and most importantly a whole library to spend the long winters reading the tales of Mossflowers heroes. But as the acting historian, Samuel did have jobs to attend to such as teaching the dibbuns the Abbeys history and acting as the Abbeys recorder, to which he was currently running late.
Samuel raced around the corner and deftly missed crashing into two hedgehogs that were carrying bags of apples to the Abbeys kitchen. He ended up running directly into the back of Sister Beryl. The badger stopped the small mouse in his tracks and turned to see who had crashed into her.
"Ooh-er sorry about that ma'am." Samuel attempted to regain his composure by straightening his cowl.
"Were you busy in the library?" The dark eyes of Sister Beryl searched for Samuel for an answer she already knew.
"Yes - well no. I was reading about Martin's capture and imprisonment at Marshank and… I got carried away I guess…"
Beryl smiled at Samuel. Sister Beryl always seemed to enjoy listening to Samuel talk about the history of the Abbey. The badger had been one of the few beasts that never appeared to be annoyed when Samuel started retelling the story of some vermin warlord and his impact on Mossflower country, and for as long as he could remember she had always supported him in it. It was good to have the Abbeys resident badger supporting his interests.
"An incredible story isn't it, but I'm sure you can finish it after dinner." Beryl stepped aside and ushered Samuel towards an older grey mouse and a black female squirrel his age.
"And hopefully Abbot Micah will be ... understanding this time."
Samuel groaned and continued towards the old mouse and squirrel. The two had their backs to Samuel and were watching parties of abbey beasts carrying bags of apples, wheat, squashes, nuts, and various other food and ingredients to and from the abbeys dining hall to the kitchen or cellars below. The squirrel was holding a roll of parchment and was furiously scribbling down notes as the old mouse would talk to the occasional beast that reported to him. Samuel sighed and cleared his throat.
"Sorry I'm late I- " He started.
As soon as the words came from his mouth the squirrel jumped and whipped around to face him. Brin had a flustered look on her face and thrust the parchment and quill into his hands.
"Finally! I felt like my paw was going to break off. Did ya get lost on the way here?" Brin sounded irritated but relieved that he had finally made it. This must have been the most writing she had done since the two of them were dibbuns many seasons ago.
Samuel laughed and apologized to her. "No. I just knew that you would love to be the recorder for the day." The two friends loved to tease each other.
"Not on your life Sammy." Brin half laughed at Samuel's attempt at a joke and began to rub life into her wrist.
Samuel winced hearing his nickname. Brin gave it to him when they were younger. The two of them had grown up together in the abbey as playmates. She had always called him that and although he had told her countless times to stop, she continued to do so. Samuel could tolerate it, only if it came from her.
She turned to Abbot Micah who was watching some hedgehogs roll a barrel of cordial into the abbey's kitchen. "Samuel is here, anything else you need me to do abbot?" she asked, desperate to be assigned to some other task.
The old mouse turned towards them, he seemed to not have heard Samuel's arrival.
"Ah, there you are Samuel. Brin, go and help Firnen in the great hall, I think some of his younger helpers decided to leave early." Abbot Micah sighed to himself. Brin hurried away from the two mice, thankful to not be recording every bag of nuts or barrel of elderberry wine.
"Have fun, Sammy!" Brin called out before turning into the great hall.
"Will do," Samuel murmured to himself. He enjoyed most of being the abbey historian. Learning and retelling the stories of old were his favorite thing to do. Taking stock of the provisions was not. He loved the glorious battles and adventures of the heroes of Redwall, the stories of bravery of a few goodbeasts vs scores of vermin. But he couldn't see Martin the Warrior or Sunflash the Mace stuck inside the abbey recording the number of squashes that had been harvested. He began to think about the battle of Marshank and what was happening before he was interrupted.
"Samuel are you able to understand what Brin wrote?" Abbot Micah drew Samuel from his thoughts.
"Y-Yes Abbot," Samuel said before he could look at the parchment. Brin had never been good at writing, and it was evident as Samuel couldn't understand a single word she wrote.
"You can't can you." Abbot Micah sighed again. "Brin tries her hardest, but there's only so much that she can do. We will need to start again, let's go." Samuel groaned as he followed Abbot Micah into the kitchen towards the storeroom.
The kitchen and storeroom were bustling with activity. Upon entering the aromatic spices and steam from the freshly baked goods hung in the air like a summer storm. The abbey chefs, mimicking a hive of bees were busily preparing the freshly picked food for the coming winter. The clanging of jars of preserves and chattering of the abbey dwellers were all any beast could hear. The voice of the abbeys head chef, a plump squirrel named Willard, rang out amongst the assault of the senses. Giving out orders or shooing away those who couldn't stand to wait for the day's evening meal.
Samuel attempted to stay right behind Abbot Micah, but it was difficult to do so amongst all the commotion. The abbot appeared to be struggling to forge a path to the storeroom and was being tossed around like a ship at sea. Just when Samuel thought that the two of them would get washed away in the chaos a booming voice addressed the kitchen from behind them.
"Make way for the Abbot!" It was Eli Greyfur, the abbeys resident warrior and Samuel's younger brother.
The kitchen momentarily stopped and made a path for them. The three mice quickly made their way through the chefs as Eli apologized to Willard for the disturbance. Once they made it to the storeroom the kitchen returned to business as usual.
The storeroom was cool and smelled of dry vittles, a pleasant change to the sticky heat of the kitchen. The rows and rows of preserved food and ingredients were well illuminated by the early-afternoon sun. There were a couple of hedgehogs rolling barrels of what Samuel believed to be maple cordial to the cellars beneath them.
"Thank you for that Eli." Began Abbot Micah. "I didn't think that we would make it through that." The abbot wore a flustered look and mopped his brow with the sleeve of his cowl.
Eli proudly smiled. Eli stood slightly taller than Samuel but was much more muscular. He shared his namesake's grey fur and had torn his left ear from when a vermin arrow narrowly missed his head. He was ruggedly handsome for a mouse and was never more than an arm's length away from his double-bladed longsword which he carried on his back. "Of course, Abbot. They can get carried away sometimes, but they are the best in all Mossflower!"
"Yes, yes, of course." Abbot Micah seemed distracted. He turned to Samuel.
"Now, I need you to record everything that will last for more than a week in the storeroom and the cellars. Every jar of preserves, bag of dried fruit, and crate of candied nuts need to be recorded for the abbey's logbooks. Once, Willard has all the barrels of cordial and wine moved to the cellars then you will need to log every barrel and its contents."
Samuel's face dropped. "I thought you had already counted the cellars and the storerooms?" Asked Eli.
"Brin and the Abbot had. Unfortunately, Brin's writing is … less than legible." Samuel passed the parchment to Eli, who twisted his face in an attempt to read the scribbles.
"That's unfortunate."
"We wouldn't have to start again if you would have shown up when I asked you. You can't hide in the library when there is work to be done. I thought you knew that already." The old abbot rubbed his temples and adjusted his spectacles. "You can't continue to live in your library. I appreciate your passion for the history of the abbey, but you forget there are things that must be done in the present. You have to live now and not in the past!"
Samuel said nothing but looked down at his feet paws, he knew Abbot Micah was right. He knew that the old abbot cared for him, but it always came across as an attack. Being late and the experience of almost being washed away in the kitchen didn't improve the Abbot's mood and Samuel braced himself for more to come.
"Samuel will get it done; I'll make sure of it." Eli interjected sparing Samuel from the rod. This was Eli's way of being supportive of his brother and it pricked Samuel the wrong way. They weren't dibbons anymore and he didn't need his brother to cover for him all the time. Even if it did mean getting reprimanded by the abbot.
"I trust he will. When you are done with this, meet me in the great hall. There is much more work to be done." Abbot Micah turned on his tail and headed back to the kitchen.
Samuel and Eli watched the Abbot leave the storeroom. There was a brief silence between the two.
"Well let's get started." Said Eli with a surprising motivation. Samuel looked at his younger brother glumly.
"Why are you so excited now? You don't have to count every item in the abbey's larder?"
"I'm excited because I finished all my work for the day. So now I'm free to help you finish yours." Eli said as the two slowly began down the rows of food. "Besides you're much better company than Captain Santain and those hares."
"And why is that?"
"You're not high maintenance."
"I can't believe Redwalls great protector would dare say such a thing." Samuel said mockingly.
"Am I wrong?" Eli flashed a smile.
There was a pause then the two brothers burst into laughter. The hares of the Long Patrol were good chaps, and even better warriors but their antics could sometimes get on the nerves of the abbey beasts who are used to much simpler lives than the adventures of the Long Patrol. Eli loved to tell Samuel about the joyous calamity that the hares would get themselves in while they were stationed in the abbey. At the beginning of fall, the newest of the hares was tasked with bringing the older warriors some food and drink. In an attempt to impress the old warriors, the young hare thought he would take one of the wildberry pies that was left on the windowsill to cool. When the shorter hare attempted to lift the steaming pie from its perch, he ended up sending it toppling into the kitchen landing on chef Willard himself. The hare was lucky not to get clobbered by the chef and only got assigned a week of cleaning the latrines. The Long Patrol members as well as Eli continue to tease the young hare about it. Samuel never would have known about it Eli didn't stop by the library to tell him.
The two reached the end of the shelves of food and stopped.
"It's not often that I get to see you anymore brother, you spend all your time cocooned up in the library."
"You see me every other day."
"Aye but it's much less than when we were younger, adventuring throughout Mossflower."
Samuel spent most of his time in the abbey library. He loved it but he did miss the companionship and adventure travel brought him. He remembered traveling through Mossflower with Eli, Brin, Dane, and Esther. He could feel the wind in his fur as he stood on the sands in the shadow of Salamadraston, hear the crackle of the fire when they camped along the River Moss, and could feel the top of his mouth burn and eyes begin to water from Dane's hootroot soup. He also remembered the stench of vermin hordes, the tang of blood, and what it felt to have a knife cut into his flesh. It was well over a season ago, but it all felt as if it were yesterday.
"Do you miss it, Eli? The adventure, the fighting, the kind beasts we met?"
Eli paused for a moment. "I miss all of it, but I don't think I can go back. Both of us are needed here and that's what's important now, not what happened then."
"You sound just like Abbot Micha."
The muscular grey mouse threw back his head and laughed.
"Aye, I suppose I do. It's one of the perks that come with being the protector of this abbey. The more I work the more time I spend with the Abbot. Ye become what ye behold, eh?"
"I guess." Samuel said with less enthusiasm. The Abbot's words still rang in his ears.
Eli heard his brother's indifference. "What are ye doing up in your library anyway? Reading I can assume but whatever else seems to be more important than being on time."
"I'm not purposely late." Samuel pleaded. "I just lose track of time and I run late to things."
Eli looked disapprovingly at his brother. Samuel had always been absent-minded at times, but it happened much more often when he was in the abbey's library. Eli knew it wasn't malicious, but it was a habit that tended to get his brother in more trouble than it was worth.
"Why do get so wrapped up in these stories? I know I did when we were dibbuns but that was seasons ago and after the fourth or fifth time they don't have the same charm. Besides, I'd much rather live them out myself than hear about them from some old maid or by a loud-mouthed shrew drunk on elderberry wine!" Eli puffed his chest.
Samuel looked down the aisle in the storeroom "I don't know why." Samuel admitted. "I guess every time I read the stories, they make it all sound so clean and easy, nothing like what it is. They don't talk about the smell of blood and screams of falling beasts, or at least they don't when they're coming from Redwallers."
Eli nodded in understanding. He remembered being young and dumb, unaware of how the world really was past the stained glass of the abbey. "Aye, I understand. Battle is not one for the faint of heart, it's not easy to see beasts being slaughtered."
Samuel winced then asked his brother something that had been longing to ask, fearing the answer.
"Do you ever wonder what happened to the few vermin that do escape?"
"No, I don't." Eli was sharp and to the point. "I assume they'd just retreat then regroup and attack when they had enough numbers. They're too cowardly to face a good beast head-on, they only rely on dirty tricks." Samuel knew Eli spoke from experience. He hadn't been given the mantle of the abbey's warrior without good reason.
"Not like that." Samuel continued. He knew what he wanted to ask but he didn't know how to ask it without incurring the wrath of his brother.
"Then what do you mean."
Samuel hesitated. "Well… what about the vermin that decided to… not be vermin." The last words weakly fell out of his mouth.
"Such as?" Eli had crossed his arms across his chest and wore a face of disapproval.
"I don't know." Samuel stammered. "Uh-Blaggut. Gingivere Greeneyes! They were vermin but turned out alright."
Eli looked queerly at his brother. "Blaggut was a searat and killed his captain and Gingivere was the son of a wildcat warlord, who tried to enslave the whole of Mossflower. You should know what happened the last time the abbey tried to be kind to the son of a vermin warlord? Veil Sixclaw ended up poisoning two beasts and tried to kill his adopted mother. Even she admitted he was evil."
"But Gingivere ended up being helpful. He helped some woodlanders escape from Kotir?"
"Yes, because his sister would have killed him if he didn't escape along with them. Just listen to yourself Samuel! You're the abbey historian, you should know all of this!" Samuel shrunk back. He felt like Eli was wrong but didn't want to correct his brother who had a wild look in his eyes.
"Vermin are vermin, you can't change the evil in their blood. Far more stupid beasts have figured that out because if they didn't, they would have been killed. If I'd been Martin or Gnoff or Denya or Sunflash or any other warrior in those stories I wouldn't have let any of those mangy, pus-filled, bottom-feeding, curs and their whelps left alive!" Eli roared. The hedgehogs who had moved the barrel of cordial to the cellar had now returned to the storeroom and watched the two mice with confusion.
Eli straightened his purple tunic and took deep breaths to control himself.
Just like Esther told him to. Samuel thought to himself, and a wave of sadness crashed over him. He looked at his paws which were now clutching the parchment in frustration. He never was the best conversationist with his brother and he always tended to unintentionally anger him.
There was a drawn-out silence between them, then Samuel spoke.
"I'm sorry, it was a stupid question."
There was a pause.
"I'm sorry too." The angry look in Eli's eyes had been replaced with a deep longing sadness. "It still … hurts." Eli looked down at his left foot paw. It had been cut off just below the knee and replaced with a peg of Oak. "And I miss her every day."
Samuel nodded, understandingly. Esther had been their sister. When their parents died and they were taken into the abbey as babes, she had been the one that kept them all together. She would talk sense into a temperamental Eli and could graciously bring Samuel back down to Earth when his head was lost in the clouds. Esther was the reason the two had become so close when they were younger. She was killed by vermin last fall.
Eli clasped his brother's shoulders and put on a happy face. "Well, let's get to work shall we, you have a lot to record o' great historian." Said Eli, his voice with renewed vigor. "And mayhaps we can take a more detailed review of the maple cordial."
"Aye, let's check that first." Samuel turned to head to the cellar and hoped that the drink would lift his mood.
It had taken most of the afternoon, but the two mice had recorded all the supplies in the storeroom and cellar. They had helped themselves to a small sample of cheese and parsley flatbread with maple cordial to wash it down. Once finished, they headed to the great hall to meet with Abbot Micah where Samuel would find his next task of the day. The abbey was just as busy in the afternoon as it was in the morning which struck Samuel as odd. Woodlanders that lived in the forests and fields surrounding Redwall were still bringing in their crops. Three fully loaded wagons were being unloaded.
"Why are they still unloading the crops? I thought that would have been done hours ago."
"You really must not hear anything from your library. They're finishing the harvest sometime this week."
"What! This soon?" It had been barely over a month since fall began, far too early Samuel thought for everything to be harvested.
"Yessir, the first frost was about a fortnight ago and it's only going to get colder. Farmers are harvesting so that they don't lose anything to the snow."
After an unusually warm summer, it would make sense that there would be an unusually cold winter and that summer was especially hot. Even with constant watering and care by the abbey gardeners many of the plants in the gardens and fields were strangled by the heat. Samuel knew that if the abbey farmers thought it was time for harvest, then they must be in for a rough winter.
"Oi Greyfurs, come 'ere." Called a barrel-chested brown hare dressed in a pompous sandstone and tan military dress. He wore an outrageously curled white mustache that sat crowned atop his two front teeth. He was accompanied by Brin and Abbot Micah.
Captain Tommok Santain was born and raised in Salamandraston. An expert in both the rapier and halberd he was a lieutenant when Samuel and Eli first met him. They had assisted then lieutenant Santain, in hunting corsairs that were ravaging the southeastern coast of Mossflower. In the time since he had been promoted and reassigned to lead around a score of hares from Redwall Abbey.
"My goodness, I'm seeing double. Fancy seeing you out of your library."
"My brother is the greatest historian and most skilled recorder the abbey has ever seen. He can count the barrels of October Ale like none other." Announced Eli. The comment rustled Samuel's fur, but he didn't let it show.
Capitan Santain bowed deeply. "Then I am in the presence of excellence. I assume there is plenty of ale for the upcoming feast? Wot Wot." Capitan Santain asked Samuel. Samuel didn't care for the captain's constant bravado. Admittedly Samuel didn't think that the Long Patrols' presence was necessary in the abbey. With the formidable defenses of the abbey being spearheaded by his brother and their woodland allies in the Guosim shrews and a nearby otter holt, it seemed to him as a bit much.
"Yes, yes, yes there's plenty of drink and plenty of everything as usual." Samuel quickly told the hare and then handed Abbot Micah the ledger.
"Will that be all Abbot Micah?" Abbot Micah adjusted his spectacles and looked through the account of the storeroom. He hummed softly to himself as he did so. Eli and Capitain Santain were discussing what Samuel could only assume to be reports concerning Salamandraston.
"I hope my writing wasn't too difficult to read Samuel. I really did try my best." Brin said, her almond eyes filled with apology.
Samuel couldn't help but smile at Brin. Although her writing had been illegible it was partially his fault for putting her in that situation. He also couldn't find it in him to tell her the truth, she was always eager to lend a paw and tried to hold a positive outlook on everything. Samuel cared for her and always tried to make her smile, even when his attempt at humor fell flat. She had been one of the few bright people in his life since his sister died.
"I could read it just fine. I just wanted to recheck everything with Eli."
"That's wonderful!" A smile returned to Brin's face and the world seemed to brighten. Samuel couldn't help but smile back.
"Oh dear, it appears we will have less than last season's harvest." The Abbot's words snapped the smile from Samuel's face.
"What! But it can't be less! There's still more carts to unload?" Interjected Samuel.
"All the crops that aren't on those wagons are being stored with the farmers. Usually, harvesting takes a week, but this summer's drought really hurt our yield." It came from Berchan, an older mouse who lived with his family in a small cottage just outside the abbey. Samuel didn't notice him coming out from behind Abbot Micah.
"I don't think it should be much of an issue. There is plenty of food for every beast in the abbey, we might have to lessen the feasting but, we've made it through far worse." Added the Abbot. Samuel knew very well that was true, although he'd never experienced it. For one they didn't have a horde of vermin just outside their gates wanting to tear them apart, and if the worse to come was that they would need to tighten their belts he could make it work.
"And if the winters are as bad as the summer, then what? What if a horde of vermin attacks the abbey?" Brin asked anxiously.
"We've made through worse harvests; we will have plenty of food stored in the farmhouses for the winter." Reassured Berchan his husky voice speaking from seasons of wisdom. "As far as vermin, the last major attack was long before I was a babe."
"Vermin wouldn't dare attack Redwall, especially in the winter, that's no time for a siege. Besides I trust Redwall is in safe paws with Eli and with the help of our friends in Mossflower." Stated Abbot Micah.
Capitan Santain interjected. "The hares of the Long Patrol are at your service m'lady. Have no fear of any vermin foe, the Long Patrol will never waiver in its defense of the good beasts of Redwall. If any vermin come within a day's march of the abbey, I will personally escort them to the gates of the dark forest!"
"Didn't you say there was a small horde to the north causing a ruckus?" Asked Eli, his voice was stern and controlled as if he was holding in something.
"Aye, that be true. But Lord Bromwell traveled with our finest to crush those vermin. He's probably headed back to Salamandraston as we speak with the head of the warlord at the end of a pike! Ha, what a wonderful sight!"
Lord Bromwell was the badgerlord of Salamandraston. Like most all badgerlords before him, he was a fearsome fighter and an excellent leader. Samuel had the pleasure of meeting him when he and his friends traveled to the mountain fortress. He was amazed by the badger's generosity, letting them rest in the mountain for as long as liked and personally touring them throughout the mountain, speaking of the history of the great beasts that once tread its halls. To no beast's surprise that was the part Samuel most enjoyed. He was an expert with his spear and his name struck fear into the hearts of vermin. Samuel had never seen Lord Bromwell in battle, and he would like to keep it that way. Capitan Santain's confidence in Lord Bromwell was infectious and settled the worry any beast had of vermin.
With the reassurance from the old farmer that they had plenty of food and a rogue vermin band that was about to be wiped out, their worries subsided.
"Now that you're here Samuel we can finish unloading the crops from the wagons." The abbot turned and headed towards the wagons of food which were surrounded by Abbey beasts who were waiting for him.
Samuel, Brin, and Berchan followed him. Eli stayed behind with Captain Santain, seeming to forget that he was supposed to be helping Samuel. As much as he missed the thrill of adventure and at times loathed some of the recordkeeping, he still wouldn't want to be anywhere else in Mossflower. Samuel thought to himself. At Redwall he was safe, surrounded by friends and family, and never went without a meal. With that positive thought in mind, he returned to his work.