Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

Brother Hubert sat at his desk in the gatehouse. Though Redwall Abbey was of no great age, he was surrounded by old books, parchments and scrolls. Dust was everywhere. It settled in layers on furniture and shelf alike, providing a fine patina to the tomes and volumes piled willy-nilly, coating the yellowed parchments and writing materials, lazily drifting in a slow swirl around the morning sunlight shafts flooding through the window. Hubert Kept his head bent to the task of recording the Abbey's daily life, the long feathered quill pen waving back and forth as he wrote. Saxtus and Dandin stood in front of him, listening to the scratch of quill on parchment, keeping a respectful silence until Brother Hubert spoke to them. Looking over the top of his spectacles, Hubert blinked severely. "What is punctuality?"

Saxtus spoke out. "The respect we show other creatures by being on time."

"Hmm, you two young Brothers have more respect for strawberries than you do for me, is that not right?"

Saxtus and Dandin stood in silence. Brother Hubert put aside his pen.

"Tell me in turn our Abbey charter. Dandin, you may begin."

Dandin swallowed hard, looked at the ceiling for inspiration, shuffled his paws and began hesitantly.

"Er, to be Brothers and Sisters of peace and goodwill, er, living together in harmony under the protection of Redwall Abbey, er, er, forsaking all unnecessary forms of violence, not only to Mossflower, its trees, grasses, flowers and insects, but to all living creatures ..."

Brother Hubert nodded at Saxtus to continue. He did so with much more confidence and less hesitancy than Dandin.

"To help and comfort the dispossessed, harbor orphans and waifs, offer shelter to all creatures alike, give clothing, warmth and food to any beast or creature that is deemed in need of such. To educate and learn, particularly in the healing arts, comfort the sick, nurse the injured and help the wounded ..."

Dandin received Brother Hubert's nod to continue from Saxtus.

"Er, er, help the wounded. . . . Er, lessee now, er. . . . Oh yes! To take our food from the earth and replenish the land by caring for it, er, husbanding crops and living in harmony with the, er, seasons always. To honor and protect our friends and brethren, only raising paw to do battle when our life at Redwall is threatened by treachery and the shadow of war; at these times every Redwall creature should show courage, fortitude and obedience to the Father Abbot. Albeit the taking of another life must always be justified and never carried out in a wanton manner." Brother Hubert came out from behind his desk.

24

"Well done, Saxtus, and very clearly spoken. As for you, young Dandin, you stammer and hesitate, you seem to have difficulty in rememberingexcept, that is, until you come to the part that deals with treachery, war and battle."

Dandin looked down at the floor, gnawing at the side hairs of his paw.

Brother Hubert leaned back against the desk, took a beaker of cordial, blew some dust from its rim and took a sip before continuing.

"Right, Saxtus. Tell me what has been going on in Great Hall for three seasons now."

Saxtus stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Going on ... Great Hall . . . er, er. Oh, is it the making of some cloth picture? Is that what you mean, Brother Hubert?"

Brother Hubert polished his spectacles upon his habit sleeve.

"I don't know, are you asking me or telling me? My my, what a pair of little puddenheads. See if you can tell him, Dandin."

This time it was Dandin's turn to brighten up.

"In Great Hall for the past three seasons, actually it's three and a half, the Brothers and Sisters, also many woodlanders, are combining their skills to make a wonderful tapestry. This will depict our founder, Martin the Warrior, showing how he battled with villainous vermin, foxes, rats, stoats, ferrets and weasels, even a huge wildcat like that awful Tsarmina. Martin the Warrior wasn't bothered by those evil beasts, oho no; he got his famous sword and buckled on his bright armor, took up his shield and drove them from Mossflower country. Wham! Blatt! He whirled his deadly blade, the rats screamed, the foxes dived into hiding. Swishl Chop\ Martin was right after them and he whirled his sword an-"

"Enough, enough, you bloodthirsty young scamp. How do you know all this?"

Dandin smiled. A reckless light burned in his bright eyes.

"Because the father of my father's father was Gonff the Prince of Mousethieves, Martin the Warrior's famous companion. He could steal the nose from under your eyes while you were watching and he was a great ballad-maker."

Brother Hubert nodded wisely. "Yes indeed, an unusual fellow, by all accountsthief, rogue, warrior, questor, but all for the good of other creatures. He married the lovely Columbine, if my memory serves me rightly, so he could not have been too bad a creature. Never let me catch you stealing, young Dandin. Wait, there was something I meant to tell you. Ah yes, I have it here somewhere."

He began rummaging among piles of old records until the dust flew, finally coming up with a small object. By this time all three were coughing and spluttering amid the dust. Hubert shepherded them outside into the cool shadow of the ramparts before he presented Dandin with the item. It was a small flute, beautifully made from a piece of straight applewood, bored out by a red-hot iron rod and wonderfully carved, and it had an ornamental letter "G" near the mouthpiece.

"I was looking through some ancient records," Brother Hubert explained. "They said that the family of Gonff lived down at old Saint Ninian's church for six generations. Before Gonff moved away from Redwall Abbey, however, he was presented with a flute by Abbess Germaine, our first Abbey Mother. But apparently Gonff thought it was far too splendid and fancy for himhe preferred a reed flute so he left this behind. I think this is the flute; it carries his initial and looks very old. I'm sure it belongs rightly to you, Dandin. Do you think you can play it?"

Dandin gazed at the flute, his eyes shining. "I'll certainly try, Brother."

26

Hubert dusted his habit before returning to the gatehouse.

"Good, perhaps we'll hear you at the Abbot's Midsummer Jubilee feast?"

Saxtus squinted at the sun. "When's that, Brother?"

"Three days hence, though some of the older Brothers and Sisters have been planning it for quite a while now. Our Father Abbot is very modest and does not want to cause too much fuss, so we have kept it quiet; we didn't want to get you young ones too excited. Still, I suppose you've got to know at some point ..."

Both young mice leapt for joy, hugging each other and laughing aloud at the prospect of the great event.

"Hurray! Abbot Bernard's Jubilee feast. Redwaaaaaaalll!"

Brother Hubert's dry, dusty old features broke into a wide grin.

"Go on now, be off with the pair of you. No doubt you'll be needed to help with the preparations."

Sister Sage was not on duty serving breakfast that morning. She took herself off for a breath of fresh air on the ramparts, enjoying the soft breeze that drifted over Mossflower Woods.

She came down from her morning stroll along the walltop to join Brother Hubert, and together they watched the two young mice hopping and leaping like wild crickets, across the sunlit lawns and flower beds, toward the Abbey kitchens.

Sister Sage chuckled and shook her head. "Cowslips! Look at those two young 'uns, would you! It makes you feel good to be alive on a summertide."

With that, she hopped off after them, capering madly despite her long seasons. Brother Hubert attempted a small caper, until dust arose from his habit and his glasses fell off. He looked about quickly to see no creature had been watching, then hurried into his gatehouse.

The midday sun glinted off the waters of the far northwest sea as thick-headed revelers from the previous night hauled anchors to sail out and scour the seas or range the coasts in their constant search for plunder and booty, slaves and trinkets. Gabool the Wild watched them from the high window of his banqueting hall, Waveblade, Blacksail, Rathelm and Greenfang, four good craft laden with the rakings and scrapings of seas and oceans, murderers all.