Brian Jacques - Redwall #09 - Salamandastron

"Good morning, Brother. How are they today?"

Hollyberry yawned and stretched in his chair. "Morning, Bremmun. See for yourself. I worked the tails off them both until late last night, washing nightgowns, stitching pillowcases. They're two very sorry young unscried themselves to sleep after all those chores."

Bremmun's face softened, and he stared guiltily at the two young sleepers, Arula sucking her paw, Samkim with his bushy tail curled under the pillow.

"By the fur V whiskers, Brother, you must have driven them hard. They look completely tuckered out."

Hollyberry raised his eyebrows. "I was only carrying out your instructions. You set the penalty."

"Do you think they've had enough?"

Hollyberry snorted. "Hmph! What do you think!"

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"Yes of course, they have been punished sufficiently. When they wake you can tell them they are free to leave. D'you know, I feel quite awful about the whole thing. I just hope those young uns have learned their lesson."

Hollyberry breathed on his spectacles, polished and rebalanced them on his nosetip, and stared earnestly at Bremmun. "Oh, I'm sure they have. Hmm, quite sure!"

A rather shamefaced Bremmun tip-pawed out, closing the door carefully behind him.

Samkim opened one eye and stifled a snigger. Brother Hollyberry wagged a paw at him.

"You squirrelly little wag, you were listening!"

"Hurrhurrhurr! Oi wurr a-listenin' too, zurr Berr'olly."

The old mouse shook his head ruefully. "It's not good for young ones to hear their elders tell lies."

Samkim sprang grinning from the bed. "But you weren't telling lies, Brother. You just forgot what sort of jobs you gave us. Eating candied chestnuts is very hard workmy jaws are still aching!"

Arula tumbled to the floor, clinging to her pillow. "Aye, zurr, an' playen yon game. Boohurr, those pebbles 'n' acorns be fearful 'eavy. 'Spec' moi young mussles be infected fer loif, hurr!"

A smile hovered about Hollyberry's face. It was soon replaced by a grin as his chuckles turned into rib-quaking laughter. Arula and Samkim rolled about the floor in merriment.

"Ahahahahoohoo! Old Bremmun had a face on him like ahahaha! Like a frog suckin' a rock. Heeheehee!"

An infant dormouse pursued Abbess Vale across the front lawn from the Abbey to the gatehouse. "Muvva Vale, Muvva Vale, when's a Nameday?"

The old mouse turned her eyes skyward in despair. "Dum-ble, will you please stop pestering me! I haven't had breakfast yet and I can't think right if I'm hungry. Now be off with you this instant!"

The little dormouse carried on tugging Vale's habit and pleading. "Owww! Stoppa momint, Muvva Vale an' say

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when's a Nameday, or Dumbte turn all purkle an' cry!"

The Abbess halted and wagged a severe paw. "You'll turn purple and cry, eh? Are you threatening me?"

The infant smiled and nodded. "Mmm yeh, Dumble go all purkle an' cryancryancry lots!"

Mr. Tudd Spinney limped out of the gatehouse, shaking his walking stick aloft. "Whoa now, who's a-doin' all the cryin' 'ereabouts? Spike me if it ain't young Dumble. What'sa matter with ye, liddle laddo?"

The Abbess struggled to unfasten Dumble from her habit. "Would you believe it, Mr. Spinney, this rogue says that if I don't choose a Nameday he's going to cry and cry."

The hedgehog threw his ash stick in the air and caught it. "Dumble, you liddle pudden, what a good idea. Come on, marm, pick a Nameday or I'll join 'im. You ain't heard me cryI'm a champion wailer, an' I c'n turn purple too!"

"Shame on you, Mr. Spinney. I can't even think up a proper name for the season yet."

Dumble fastened himself to the habit skirt again. "Owwww,'urry up an fink of one, Muvva Vale!"

She set about detaching him once more. "The Summer of the Annoying Baby Dormousethat's about all I can think of at the moment!"

Mrs. Faith Spinney came bustling out of the gatehouse. "Summer of the Villainous Archer, more like it. Ooh, that dreadful young Samkim!"

Thrugg and his sister Thrugann trudged up to join them. Between them the two otters bore a fine netful of fresh water shrimp. Thrugg held them up proudly.

"Caught at dawn in our own Abbey pond, marm. They'll make a tasty soup with plenty o' pepper an' bulrush tips. Stow me gaff, I've never seen so many shrimp in that pond as there be this season. I reckon that ol' trout ain't eatin' 'emhe's got too fat V lazy. Lookit, there he goes now!"

The ancient trout flopped noisily on the surface. As they walked in the direction of the pond, Tudd wagged his cane. "That there fish be older'n me. I recall he was near full

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growed when I was only a liddle 'og, y'know. Great walloper!"

They stood at the pond's edge. From just beneath the surface the trout watched them, its mouth opening and closing slowly. Thrugg shook the dripping net at it.

"Look 'ere, matey, we pinched all yore shrimps!"

The big fish performed a moody half-leap, splashing them with water as it fell back into the pond.

Dumble stuck out his tongue and pawed his nose at it. "Lazy ol' trout!"

Mrs. Spinney produced a dried plum from her apron pocket, and triumphantly she stuffed it in the infant's mouth. "That's it, the Summer of the Lazy Trout!"

The Abbess pulled a wry face. "Oh dear, I'm not sure I like that. Seasons are usually named after trees or flowers. Summer of the Lazy Trout, hmm, a bit irregular, but in the absence of a better name I suppose it'll have to do. When do you want it held?"

A concerted shout went up. "Tomorrow!"

Abbess Vale looked to her friend. "Very short notice for a Nameday. Could you cope, Faith?"

Mrs. Spinney straightened her apron and mobcap in a businesslike manner. "Ready an' willirT to try, Vale!"

At this they all gave a rousing cheer. Tudd Spinney tripped on his stick and fell, and little Dumble got overexcited and leaped over Tudd, straight into the pond. Thrugan waded swiftly in and hauled the dripping infant out.

After breakfast the word was all over the Abbey. Over at the south wallsteps young creatures whooped and jumped with delight, Samkim and Arula among them.

"It's tomorrow! Hooray! The Nameday's tomorrow!"

"There's going to be a party! We're going to have a party!"

Clad in a clean dry smock, Dumble led them, marching up

the steps and along the ramparts, chanting the traditional

rhyme which young ones recited in anticipation of the feast.

"Food to eat and games to play. Tell me why, tell me why.

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Serve it out and eat it up.

Have a try, have a try.

Nameday, Nameday, fun and game day,

Come, Brother, Sister, join our play.

This season has a name!"

The great Joseph Bell pealed out happily over the sunny morn, and birds twittered in excitement over the joyous din. Old Abbeydwellers who were not busy in the kitchens gathered on the lawn to watch the young ones and remember long-ago Namedays they had enjoyed taking part in.

Other creatures outside Redwall heard the sounds of celebration that morningDingeye and Thura, the two stoats who had deserted Ferahgo's army some weeks earlier. They lay in the ditch on the opposite side of the path which skirted the west wall. Days and nights of roaming the west flatlands, scavenging, begging and thieving to eke out their mean existence showed on their gaunt faces. Dingeye was sleeping in the warmth of the morning sun, dreaming of roast meat and red wine, when Thura shook him.

"Lissen, can yer 'ear that, mucker?"

Dingeye sat up. He rubbed his face with a ragged sleeve and waggled a paw in his ear to clear it, cocking his head on one side. Gradually his ugly face split into a crooked grin, and he waved his paw in time with the chanting.

"Yersss, yersss indeedy! Sounds like a good of-fashioned whoopdedoo. Wot d'you make of it, mucker?"