Brian Jacques - Redwall #05 - The Legend of Luke

Chaotic greetings broke out everywhere.

"Oh, Dinny, our faithful Foremole, how we missed you, my friend. Welcome home, welcome home!"

"Hurr, thankee, miz Bell, oi missed ee too, aye, so gurtly that oi be lostened furr wurds, marm!"

"Uncle Warthorn, it is you, ain't it?"

"Well rip me rudder, so 'tis. Don't tell me yore Bargud's sons? Lookit the size o' you both. Wot were ye fed on, boulders'n'logs? Fergit Warthorn, call me Skip. 'Ere, come an' meet Mayberry an' Catkin. I thinks they're yore cousins, but I'll let ye know when I works it out!"

"Ferdy, Coggs, hello there, 'tis me!"

"Why so 'tis, miz Trimp. Y'look taller, I think!"

"Aye, an' pretty as ever. Good to 'ave ye back, me dear!"

"H'i name Chugg, only a likkle squiggle, hut lotsa t'ubble!"

"Me called Gonflet, I lotsa t'ubble, too, Chugg!"

"Ahoy there, Skip, whupperyhoo to ye. Let go o' those two bullies an' shake yore otterkin's paw, ye ole rascal!"

"Haharr, Garraway Bullow, me ole heart's delight. C'mere, me second cousin twice removed an' longtailed on yore granma's side!"

Amid the shouting and laughing as old friends were reunited and new ones made, a small stooped figure, leaning on a blackthorn stick, shuffled across the lawn. Everybeast made way for Abbess Germaine. Mayberry and Catkin hurried forward, assisting her to the Honeysuckle'sprow, where Martin stood waiting to meet her. Drawing his sword he knelt, laying it at the old mouse's footpaws. She smiled.

"Martin of Redwall, you have returned to us, my friend."

"Aye, Mother Abbess. It was a good journev, a long and eventful summer. I am happy to be back at Redwall."

The Abbess Germaine waved her stick at the strange craft standing in the middle of the lawn, with a great goshawk perched on its prow.

"An eventful summer indeed, Martin. What is all this?"

"That is Log a Log Furmo's skiff Honeysuckle,named after his goodwife, marm. Yonder noble bird is Krar Woodwatcher, a valiant fighter and a great friend to us. These shrews are Guosim, and we have with us two tribes of ottersthe tribes of Queen Garraway Bullow and the brothers Folgrim and Tungro."

Abbess Germaine silenced Martin by raising her paw.

"Enough. You will confuse my old mind if you carry on further, Martin. Welcome, welcome to you all, peace be with you, may you find happiness and joy within Redwall Abbey. If there is anything you need from me or my Redwallers, please do not hesitate to ask for it."

In the brief silence which followed this announcement, the old hare confronted the Abbess with a courteous, though slightly creaky, bow.

"Beauclair Fethringsol Cosfortingham at y'service, marm. I was, er, wonderin', wot, er, if perchance, you maybe had, er, a slight, hmmmmm, beggin' y'pardon of course, er, er .. ."

Germaine nodded. She understood him completely. "I take it you are hungry, mister Cosfortingham?"

Beau nodded eagerly, still stammering. "Quite, er ah, thank ye, marm, I am mayhap a little, er, shall we say, er, peckish?"

Smiling broadly, the old Abbess took his paw. "I never knew a hare who was not hungry, sir. We have been preparing since the back end of summer for such an event, and we have plenty enough for everybeast including you, sir. Is everything ready, Bella?"

The Badgermother nodded, pointing toward the orchard. "By the time the mist has risen completely. Cooks, servers, cell.irhogs, helpers, to your stations for the feast!"

A mighty cheer arose into the autumn morn as the Redwall helpers hurried off to the kitchens for their trolleys. Paw in paw, all the guests strolled off behind them, chatting animatedly at the prospect of Redwall hospitality.

"A feast eh wot, hope there's enough for all this lot, wot?"

"Burr, zurr, you'm bain't never been to ee Redwall feast. Thurr be enuff gudd vittles to keep twice this yurr number a-goin' furr ee full season. Hurr aye!"

"Ahoy, Ferdy, waitll you see ole Krar take to the vittles. That bird could make you look like a Dibbun at table!"

"We'll see about that, Gonff. What about yon hare?"

"Hoho, don't even ask, matey. His name should've been Famine, not Fethringsol. Don't sit next to him!"

"I sit by you, Gonflet, we eats everyfink all up, eh?"

"Ho yiss, but later, Chugg, come wiv me, we pincha pies off the windowsills, they still coolin'. Heehee!"

"Looks like you've got double trouble there, miz Columbine."

"You could be right, Skip, treble trouble if you count Gonff. But better the trouble that we know, and at least they're home safe and sound!"

"Gurr, 'ome, marm, bain't et a wunnerful won!!"

Epilogue

Extract from the journal of Germaine, Mother Abbess of Redwall Abbey.

It is winter now, a time for sitting 'round the fire in Cavern Hole and storytelling on long dark evenings. By the time next winter arrives our Abbey will be completely built. Never have we had so many welcome and useful guests. This beautiful desk I am sitting at was made by the tribe of Tungro, as is all our furniture what wonderfully skilled craftsbeasts those otters are. His brother Folgrim is to stay here and live with us; he and Skipper have become inseparable. Many of our guests will stay permanently. It gives me great joy, they are good hardworking creatures. Trimp and Chugger are now part of Gonff's family. How could they not be happy with two such as our Prince of Mousethieves and his lovely wife, Columbine. Everybeast here says that I still have many seasons in front of me. I hope so, Redwall is such a joyous place to be. I look forward each morning to breakfast with my close companions, Vurg and Beau. I wish I could have gone sea roving with them in my younger seasons. What adventures they have had!

Martin seems to have regained his old zest for life. He is not the troubled Warrior anymore. It was a wondrous tale he had to tell, both of himself and his brave father, Luke. It was also very sad at times, but does not sadness mingle with joy, to make us grow fully into the creatures we are? Strangest of all, though, he showed me something from a beaded linen bag, which belonged to his poor mother. It was a woven tapestry of his grandsire, who was also called Martin. The picture is of a mouse in armor, bearing a great sword. I was amazed, it looked like Martin himself, to the very life. Though he said to me that it reminded him greatly of Luke, his father. Columbine has had a lovely idea: she thinks that the picture might form a centerpiece for a big tapestry, which would someday hang in Great Hall. When I look at the picture, I know it is our Martin. I think that he and his ancestors have always been warriors, champions, whose spirits exist to inspire good honest creatures.

Martin has also done a remarkable thing. He has decided to give up his sword and live a life of peace. He has done so much to help found our Abbey that no creature could deny him the right to do this. The goshawk, Krar Woodwatcher, has hidden the sword where Martin directed him to put it. The only hint he gave of the great sword's location was to me and no other. These are his words.

Above where autumn's mists do rise,

Where I beheld with mine own eyes,

My dream, my vision, hov'ring there,

One morn upon old Mossflower's air.

Then he said a strange thing to me which I will tell to you.

I stand here in this world alone,

No kin of mine to take the sword,

No son or daughter of my own,

A bitter and a sad reward,

But Redwall in its hour of need,

Will bring forth one to follow me,

To that one, valiant in deed,

I leave a Warrior's legacy.

Then he would talk no more of such matters. Now if I want to find him, I have only to follow the sound of our Abbey babes, the Dibbuns, laughing and playing. Martin will be there, joining in with them; Gonff, too. They are both enjoying a new-found happiness, though I doubt that our Prince of Mousethieves ever really grew up. Perhaps Martin is making up for the lost seasons of his youth, who knows? It does every Redwaller's heart good to see him thus.