He nodded at the creatures assembled in the kitchen, then turned to Dannflor. "Let's put these pails away an' get washed up afore lunch, son."
Outside, the Abbey pool seemed to cool Rusvul down a bit. Dannflor washed his paws in silence, watching his father sluice water across his face with both paws, blowing and snorting as it entered his nostrils. Dannflor glanced up at the sky. "Wish it'd rain, then there'd be no need t'carry water, eh?"
Rusvul wriggled a paw in one ear to get the water out. "Aye, son. Wouldn't have been a bad idea for somebeast to tell us the orchard had enough water, an' all."
Dannflor shrugged good-naturedly. "It's not the Badgermum's fault she forgot. She carried as much water as both of us earlier on."
Rusvul nodded grudging agreement. "Mebbe she did, but this place needs a leader, an Abbot or an Abbess. I liked ole Abbot Arven. When he was alive things seemed t'run smoother."
Dannflor dried his paws on the grass. "That's 'cos Arven was a warrior one time, just like you. Prob'ly the reason you got on so well together."
Rusvul smiled one of his rare smiles, and flicked a pebble at his son. "True enough, Dann. Me'n'you are the only warriors left in Redwall now, an' we get on well t'gether, don't we?"
Dannflor caught the pebble and skimmed it out over the pond. "Of course we get on, 'cos I'm your son an' yore my dad. But I've never been in a fight or seen battle, so you couldn't really call me a warrior. I was only a Dibbun before we came here, y'know."
Rusvul's eyes hardened. He took his son's paw and held it tight. "But you are a warrior, Dannflor, I know it. The blood of warriors runs in yore veins. Never forget that, son!"
They rose together and walked toward the orchard, where lunch was being served in the shade of the trees. Dannflor paced easily beside his father. "But Redwall Abbey's the most peaceful place a creature could wish to be. How will I know when I've become a warrior?"
Rusvul stopped and stared at him. "Yore name is Dannflor Reguba. In ancient squirrel language the Reguba was the greatest warrior in all the land. I am called Reguba, as my father was before me. When danger threatens an' you have to face the foebeast, then you will know you are Reguba, bravest of the brave!"
Lunch was a fairly simple one: sliced fruitsapple, pear, greengage and plumsome fresh-baked scones and damson jam, and dandelion and burdock cordial, loamy and cold from Tragglo Cellarhog's vaults. Rusvul sat chatting with Tragglo, while Dannflor chose to sit next to Cregga. The Badgermum reached out a huge paw and ran it gently over his face.
"You are troubled, Dann. What's going on in that mind ill yours?"
The young squirrel sucked foam noisily from the top of his beaker. "Not so much troubled as puzzled, marm. They say you were once a great warrior. My father likes the company of warriors, but he never seems to talk at .my length with you. Why's that?"
Cregga shrugged lightly, her blind eyes facing straight ahead. "Probably because I never talk about my seasons as. a fighter. That is all in the dead past to me. Peace and this beautiful Abbey are what matter in my life now. Do you like Redwall, Dann?"
"Aye, I like it a lot. It's really home to me."
Cregga smiled, nodding her great striped head. "Good. Tis my home too, though I've never seen it with my eyes. I was blinded in battle before I ever arrived at Redwall. Do me a favor, Dann, look at it and tell me what you see. You can be my eyes. Go on. Let's see if we both live in the same place."
Dannflor held the blind Badgermum's paw as he spoke. "A path runs from north to south, and Redwall stands by the side of it. Mossflower Wood grows around the north and east walls and partially on the south. A big main threshold gate faces the path, with a little gatehouse just inside; the outer walls are high, thick and solid, built from old red sandstone, like the rest of the Abbey. Battlements and a wide walltop run round the outer walls, making it like a safe fortress. Inside there are gardens and lawns, a pond and this orchard. But in the middle of it all stands the Abbey. It is a huge old building, very high, with a weathervane atop the great long roof, and marvelous stained-glass windows, great arches and columns. Built against one side is a belltower with two bells inside, which are tolled at dawn, midday, twilight and softly at midnight. I like the bells. They have a warm, friendly sound, as if they're watching over us."
Cregga squeezed the young squirrel's paw gently. "You have a good eye and a kind heart, Dannflor. Your picture of our Abbey is the same as the one I carry in my imagination."
While they had been talking the sky was starting to cloud over from the southeast, gradually at first, but the clouds increased as a breeze sprang up to drive them along, blotting out the blue summer noon. Friar Butty felt his footpaw twinge again.
"Hah! I knew it. We'll have rain before long, friends."
Splot! Splack! Two large raindrops hit the leaves of a plum tree, one of them rolling down to burst on Foremole Gubbio's nose.
"Ee rain bain't awaitin' on yore word, Butty, et be yurr right naow!"
As the mole spoke, long-awaited rain came splattering and battering suddenly down, a proper summer storm, driven sideways on the wind. Thunder rumbled afar, with a distant lightning flash flaring briefly in the east. Dust turned immediately to mud, dry yellowed grass was flattened against the wet earth, and a tremendous din of countless large drops pattering against foliage and rapping upon treetrunks as it hissed around the Abbey virtually drowned out all other sound.
Brother Melilot and Rusvul swept the linen spread off the ground, and knotting it loosely into a large sack with foodstuffs and dishes inside they bore it off between them to the Abbey. Cregga Badgermum boomed out over the din, "Everybeast inside!" Ambling sideways, she shielded many elders and young ones with her bulk. Sister Sloey tugged at Tragglo's apron, rain pouring down her face into her open mouth as she called to him.
"Mister Tragglo, there's two Dibbuns not here!"
Dannflor joined them, his fur plastered flat by the downpour. "That'll be the two molebabes, marm, Wugger an' Blinny. They went off toward the gatehouse as my father an' I were comin' up from the pond."
Tragglo Spearback shooed Sister Sloey off to the A bbey. . "You get yoreself indoors, marm. Me'n'young Dann'll find 'em!"
Dannflor and Tragglo dashed across the lawns, heads down, footpaws sloshing and slapping through the wet grass, as the thunder boomed closer and a great fork of lagged lightning rent the sky asunder. Both creatures were driven flat against the gatehouse wall by the wind, and stood there a moment regaining their breath before fighting their way around to the gatehouse door. It was flapping back and forth, for Butty had left it open, and they hurried inside out of the storm. Tragglo cast a quick eye about.
"I.iddle rascals. They ain't 'ere, Dann, an' we never passed 'em on the way 'ere."
The young squirrel wiped rain from his eyes on a window curtain. "Let's think. I know! Maybe they're up on the walltop. Dibbuns are always being told not to go up there, so that's the likely place for them to be."
Sheeting rain swept the ramparts, dancing across the stones and gurgling noisily out of small downspouts, so heavy that visibility was virtually nil. Tragglo and Dannflor were running almost doubled up past the north battlements when a peal of thunder exploded with frightening; force directly overhead. In the crackle of chain lightning that followed the hedgehog pointed to the northeast gable end and the two small figures huddled there.
"Haharr, there they be!"
It was hard to imagine two more saturated and frightened little creatures. The molebabes wailed and threw themselves at their rescuers.