Chapter 11

The day of Redwall's Autumn Feast had finally arrived. Creatures bustled about like bees in a hive, carrying out last minute duties with a new sense of hurry and eagerness. The Autumn Feast was a very important event among Redwallers. It celebrated the coming together of creatures and the sharing of the earth's rich bounties, both very important aspects of abbey life.

As with all momentous occasions, many tasks still needed completing. Fresh fruit and vegetables were required in the kitchens where the cooks had been hard at work for days preparing the fare for the feast. There was also a demand for strong paws to transport tables and containers of drink outside.

On the lawn, Foremole Buri and her kin were assisting Owen Brushback with the moving of several large barrels. Unfortunately, most of the moles were too short to see over the barrels and relied on the cellar keeper's direction, and not all of the other creatures on the lawn were so attentive.

"Oi, watch it now!" Owen shouted abruptly. Sarum and Safra, the otter twins were bringing a table from the Great Hall just as one of the gargantuan barrels rolled by. The moles, thinking that the cellar hog was addressing them, gave low-voiced cries as they attempted to stop the barrel. The otters halted as well, but Sarum's paw ended up pinned between the barrel and the table edge. The otter yelped and dropped his corner.

"Gah! Ye crushed me bloody paw!" He hopped about gripping the appendage, much to the amusement of his fellow table carriers. "Save the dancin', mate," Safra chuckled, "Ye'll have plenty of time at the feast."

Sarum shot his twin a heated glare. Owen was not impressed with their antics. "Oh, stop hoppin' about like a hot potato!" He grabbed Sarum's paw and turned it over, bending each claw in turn. "Well, it don't seem to be broken. Now was that worth makin' such a scene over?"

Sarum rubbed his paw tenderly. He didn't answer. Just then, a mole in a red vest appeared from behind the barrel. "We be's soory 'bout crushin' thoi paw, Marster Sarerm," he said. "Us moles can't see round 'ee barrel."

The otter waved his now-fine paw. "Nah, it ain't that bad anymore,"
"Says he who danced 'round like crazy dibbun," Safra muttered. Owen frowned at the young otters. "Now, I'll 'ave no more jokin' from you, ya hear? There's still plenty of work ta be done, so get your rudders movin'. And take better care where you're goin'!"

Foremole Buri came around the barrel and watched them carry the table away. Owen shook his head. "What are we gonna do with those two ripscallions?"

Buri's velvety face crinkled into a smile. "Don't be gettun too 'arsh wiv ee otters."

Owen nodded, but his face remained skeptical. "I just don't wanna see some poor creature getting stuck in the infirmiry and missing the feast.

"They'um's watchin' naow well enuf," replied Buri, gesturing to the otters. Sarum and Safra were taking extra care to make sure they didn't trample anybeast underpaw. Owen grinned and patted the mole on the shoulder. "I wish we all had your confidence. There'd be far less nerves to deal with." He clapped his paws and turned back to the mole crews. "Right then, move lively! And be careful with that barrel of October Ale. The best of the season, that is."

On the other side of the lawn, Brother James had his work cut out for him as well. The mouse was controlling the throng of abbey dwellers streaming in and out of the kitchens. James had been directing creatures all morning and the strain was beginning to show as he attempted to keep order.

"No, Brother Kolm, Brother Samuel, those apples need to go to the cellars, the kitchen store rooms are already filled up. You two, be very careful how you handle those seeds, you don't want to spill them. I say, Friar Doren, mind those onions, they're quite strong this year."

James suddenly noticed Myna the molemaid toting a bucket full of currents. Though determined, the dibbun was having trouble.

James raised a paw. "Myna, be careful with- oh dear."

With a cry, the molemaid tripped and sent the currents tumbling over the ground. When she sat up, she stared in horror at the sea of berries and looked as though she would cry. Brother James started over to help her, but a grey furred mouse in a blue dress reached the dibbun first. Sister Aeva had come to the rescue once again.

"Goodness, Myna, what happened here?"

Myna wiped a paw over her teary eyes. The sister put a comforting paw on her shoulder, "Come now, no use crying over spilled currents."

"Oi be's gurt soory, Sis Aeva," Myna said as the gathered up the currents. "Thee'um burries bees 'eavy, miz,"

Sister Aeva smiled. "Perhaps you shouldn't take so many the next time? The old mousewife looked around and suddenly spotted a dibbun squirrelmaid. "Lucia, could you come here please?"

The dibbun rushed over when she saw Myna. "Wha 'appened?" she asked.

"I'um tripped on 'ee currunts," the molemaid replied.

"Lucia, would you please help Myna get these to the kitchens?" Aeva asked. The squirrelmaid nodded and pulled Myna towards the abbey. "Come on, let's go ta Mum Sybil." the two dibbuns began to tote the bucket carefully to the door.

"Make sure you don't eat any on the way," Aeva called after them. Myna shook her head. "H'oh no, sisa, oi wants be keepen moi tail." Lucia patted her own tailbrush in agreement.

Aeva shook her head. Apparently the old molecook's threat was still alive and well among the dibbuns. Well, if it kept them out of trouble. It was difficult to keep all of the dibbuns under control sometimes. Especially if they included former Salamandastron hares named Kaiba.

The grey-furred sister looked up and spied a rather tired looking Brother James standing in front of the kitchen doors. He waved a trio of mousewives bearing pears towards the cellars. Aeva walked over to him. "You look like you could use some help."

The young brother sighed."A minute's rest would be most welcome. Up since dawn watching like a hawk; it frays even the best nerves."

"A cold drink of water would do you good," Aeva proposed. "I'll watch the doors. Things seem to be slowing down now anyway." James nodded gratefully. As he was leaving, he met Barad coming to fill a bucket of water for the workers on the lawn. Both creatures began to walk towards the abbey well.

"I should check on the kitchen windows," the otter said. "Mum Sybil has pies cooling there. I left some dibbuns to guard them."
Brother James sighed. "Is Kaiba at his thieving again?"

Barad chuckled. "I don't think he'll do much. Mum Sybil's quite the scary sight when she's wielding a big spoon." No sooner had he spoken than there came a loud commotion. The mouse and otter rounded the corner and came upon a most peculiar sight. Beneath the windows were the dibbuns that Barad had employed to guard the cooling pies. All were currently shouting and attacking some poor creature who was at the bottom of the large spoon and stick wielding heap.

"Jab out 'is eyes!"

"No, chop his tail!"

At first, Barad was shocked, but then he heard a familiar voice come from the depths of the pile.

"Gah! Get off, you murderous fiends! OW! That's my tailscut!"

Once a scoffbag, always a scoffbag. Barad walked over to his sentries. "Oi! Come on now, let's not suffocate the poor beast."

Reluctantly, the dibbuns climbed off the hare. "But we had him, Mista Barad," whined Sloey. Mulle the vole was pouting as well. "Couldn't we just chop off his tail a little bit?

"Chop off his tail indeed, wot!" Kaiba got up, brushing dust and grass from his jerkin. He glanced sideways at Barad, looking somewhat annoyed and somewhat guilty. The otter frowned. "Don't gimme that look, mate. You oughta know better than to behave like this. You're supposed to set an example. The young'uns look up to us, and if we teach them the wrong things, we're cheatin'em. Ain't that right, Brother James?"

The mouse nodded absently, still somewhat in shock. Kaiba thought for a while and finally nodded. "Very well, old chap," He lifted his head regally and addressed the dibbuns. "My prime progeny, from this point on, I vow to pause in my purloining. No longer shall I be known as the Plunderer of Pies, but as the Preventer of all Pie Pilfering. Beware, those who would plot to lay a paw on such precious pastries! I will pursue-"

"Alright, that's enough," Barad cut in. "Come on, they need help in the cellars." As the otter pulled him away, Kaiba turned and saluted the dibbuns. "Fare well, my precocious protectors, I bid thee adieu."

Several of the dibbuns looked confused. A squirrelmaid looked over to Sloey. "He is crazy."

By early evening, the feast was in full swing. The rows of tables in front of the orchards were crowded end to end with abbey dwellers of every age. Mum Sybil and her cooks had outdone themselves yet again. Food filled all possible table space. There were trifles, flans, and pies; breads and cheeses; fresh vegetables and crisp autumn apples. Not to mention Mum Sybil's special pumpkin soup with cheese. The newly created raspberry oat bread had been a soaring success. Not a piece remained. Kaiba was suspected of having something to do with that, but everybeast was in such good spirits that no one minded.

As always, elders sat among the young ones to make sure they didn't get into too much mischief. Even Kaiba helped. Having given up his profession of windowsill thievery, he had taken it upon himself to monitor the pastry table. Not a single baked good left without his permission.

"Now, wait just a minute there, laddybuck," he said to a sneaky otter dibbun, "you've already had four of those creampuffs. I say we save some for the other hungry beasts, wot?"

The otter looked crushed for a moment, but then moved on. Meanwhile, Sarum and Safra were seated on either side of Dinny the mousebabe who had managed to fill his entire plate with candied chestnuts.

"Is that really all you're gonna have, mate?" Sarum asked. Dinny nodded, unable to speak from all the chestnuts stuffed in his mouth. Safra frowned. "Are you really sure you don't want to try anythin' else? Mum Sybil an' her cooks put a lot of work into all this food." He too was foiled by another head shake from the full-mouthed dibbun. The otter shrugged. "Alright, then I guess you'll just have to miss out on the secret ingredient in this blackberry scone."

Dinny stopped mid-chew and stared at the otter. "Wha secret 'greden?"

Sarum's eyes widened."That's right, he don't know about the secret ingredient, do he, Saf?" The otter looked around quickly and lowered his voice. "We really ain't supposed to tell no beast though, are we?"

Safra nodded, "Yeah, Mum Sybil made us promise not to tell." He peered at Dinny. "You won't tell nobeast on us, will ye, mate?"

The dibbun shook his head. Safra nodded. "Good. Well, what I hear is that there's a special secret ingredient in all of these scones."
"And the deeper'n'ever pie too," added Sarum. His twin nodded. "Aye. Now, what this secret ingredient does is it makes you not get tired and you get to have fun and dance as long as you want. Don't that sound great?"

By this time, Dinny had completely forgotten his chestnuts and was instead eyeing the powered scone and slice of deeper'n'ever pie on Safra's plate.

"How's 'bout we trade, huh?" the otter switched his plate for the chestnut filled one, and little Dinny was soon devouring the food with gusto. Sarum winked at Safra behind the dibbun's back. "Secret ingredient, huh?"

Safra shrugged. "Care for a chestnut?"

Off to the side of the tables, several large barrels of drink had been assembled in a half circle. There was October Ale, Elderberry wine, and plenty of fresh apple cider, as well as a Redwall favorite: fizzy Strawberry Cordial. Owen Brushback sat on an upturned keg with Barad and Abbot Mackensey nearby. The cellar hog had convinced the old mouse to sample a mug of October Ale.

"Trust me, Father," he said as he filled the container, "There ain't nothin' better for a beast than good October Ale."

"I really don't know Owen," said the wiry old mouse. "It's been such a long time...oh, very well, if you insist." The old mouse accepted the mug took a tentative sip. He looked strangely confused for a moment, and then his eyes widened and he began to sputter. Owen had poured the mug full of new strawberry fizz! Mackensey coughed and wiped away bubbles with his habit sleeve.

"Why, you're no better than a naughty dibbun, tricking an old mouse like that!"

Barad was chuckling fitfully. "He's always been a trickster, Mac, you know that. Remember the time he switched all the nighttime medicines in Sister Arvina's cupboard with strawberry fizz? Those dibbuns giggled so hard they was almost cryin'."

Mackensey nodded and cast Owen a look. "Oh, I remember that quite well. And I believe I was the one sent to find him when he hid in the cellars."

The cellarhog chuckled. "Aye, and you never did catch me."

The night continued on beautifully, interrupted only once by a war of spoons between several young dibbuns, each trying to do a more terrifying impression of Mum Sybil. Sister Emilina the infirmary keeper, along with Barad's sister Rhana, quickly put a stop to it.

"You put those away, the lot of you," the otter scolded, "We don't need anybeast losin' an eye."

Emilina looked sternly at the dibbuns. "If I see anybeast wield another spoon, any at all, it's medicine and off to bed."

The group ceased immediately. It was common knowledge among Redwall dibbuns that nighttime medicines were worse than bath day and early bedtime put together. And no self-respecting dibbun wanted to be sent in before their proper bedtime.

Eventually, the sunset gave way to a massive harvest moon. A bonfire was lit and there was lively music provided by Owen Brushback on his mandolin. The cellar hog was accompanied by his wife Matilda and their daughter Molly, who played the recorder and drum respectively, and by several moles with percussion instruments. Foremole Buri even brought out her metal spoons. The lawn was soon filled with creatures swaying and twirling to the music.

It was late by the time Rhana and Joren got back to the dormitories. Burkina and Tyla were half asleep in their arms, tuckered out from the night's festivities. The young otters curled up in their beds, still smiling, and were asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

"They'll have some tales to tell when they get back, won't they?" Joren said quietly, carefully brushing back the fur on Burki's head.

Rhana nodded. "Aye, tales of strawberry fizz and dancin' and moles who'll chop off yer rudder." The ottermum kissed Ty softly. She stood back with Joren, gazing gently over the kits. "Sometimes I wish we could bring the whole clan here." She sighed. "But can you imagine Poor Mum Sybil having to cook for all those otters?"

Joren chuckled. "At least we ain't a clan of hares."

"Owen Brushback told me that he'll send extra October Ale with us this time. He says it's the best brew he's ever tasted."

Joren looked at her skeptically. "With all the food you keep wantin' to bring back, I'll be surprised if there's any room left for Burki and Ty. We'll just have to leave them here, won't we?"

Rhana shook her head. "There'll be plenty of room. An' you know they'd swim to get home. They keep asking me when we're going back. I keep telling them two days, but they don't want to wait that long. I can't blame them."

Joren put his arm around her. "Well, they're friends will still be there in two days. They need to learn that you can't always get everything you want right away."

Rhana nodded absently. The two otters gazed lovingly at their sleeping young ones. They would never know how peaceful they looked, sleeping as though nothing in the world could ever hurt them. There were few places in the world where creatures could live without fear. Redwall Abbey was a treasure held close to their hearts, a place they knew would always provide them anything they needed.

While Burkina and Tyla did indeed sleeping peacefully, not every abbey dweller was so lucky.

Abbot Mackensey lay tossing and turning, trapped in the depths of a nightmare. He stood on a smoky cliff, surrounded by twisting shadows. There were faces in the smoke, terrible, snarling faces. Rats, stoats, ferrets and foxes sneered at him, reaching out with twisted claws. Mackensey tried in vain to fight them off. "No! Leave me alone!" The smoke faces only laughed, mocking the old mouse. "Oh, Martin, help me!" Mackensey cried.

Suddenly, the creatures ceased. Their faces remained, glaring at the old mouse, but their grabbing paws dissipated. Mackensey turned staring in fear at the sudden apparition before him. "M-martin?" he stammered. The creature was shrouded in a black cloak, concealing its true features.

"Martin, is that you?" Mackensey stepped back as the figure slowly approached. It pushed back the cloak, revealing the fabled sword of the Abbey founder. The abbot looked relieved. "Oh, it is you. Why are-" Mackensey stopped. This creature was not Martin the Warrior. Glowing green eyes appeared from beneath the hood of the cloak, eyes that that were soon joined by a russet muzzle. Mackensey began to back away from the phantom. "What do you want?"

The creature did not reply. Instead, it continued its advance on the abbot, raising the great sword. Mackensey suddenly felt his paw step into nothing. He stumbled backward, and grappled at the air, screaming as he plunged into darkness.

The abbot jolted awake, gasping. The sensation of falling still tugged at his stomach, and he was covered in a cold sweat. He looked around fearfully, scanning the dark for some sign of the sword wielding creature. There was nothing.

Mackensey lay back down. His heart thumped wildly, even though he tried to reassure himself that this had indeed been just a dream. Martin the Warrior was a mysterious spirit indeed. He often directed abbey dwellers through cryptic riddles or dreams, but surely those dreams were never like this? It frightened the abbot.

What was a fox doing with Martin's sword? A vermin creature had never wielded the legendary weapon, not unless they stole it through some treacherous means. Was Martin trying to warn him of something to come? If so, Mackensey dearly hoped that the reason would be revealed soon. The morrow would bring time for counsel with friends. Perhaps they could give some direction. The old mouse lost track of how long he lay awake. Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy slumber.