constructed with typical woodland common sense.
Brockhall had been built by badgers in the dim past, and they had taken great
pains that everything should be just the way woodland badgers like it to be.
Great care and the skill of many craftbeasts had provided every conceivable
comfort in the underground mansion; there were elaborate wall torches and
beautifully carved furniture (again, much of this cut into
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the living root to blend with the surroundings). The walls were lined with
fawn- and pink-colored clay, baked to give it a fine rustic atmosphere. Here
and there throughout the chambers were large overstaffed armchairs of the type
badgers prefer, each with a fuzzy old velveteen pawstool, often used by young
ones in preference to the small polished maple chairs made specially for them.
Overall it was an admirable country seat which could easily accommodate the
entire Corim membership.
All the woodlanders were gathered to meet the mice who had journeyed from Loam
hedge; it was an occasion for feasting. The Council of Resistance in
Mossflower leaders sat in the main hall, infants were taken to the nursery,
and friends went to help with the cooking and preparation of food in Bella's
much admired kitchen. Though the badger was not short of provisions, she
always welcomed the addition of otter, squirrel and mole food. All had arrived
well burdened. Bella liked tasting other dishes, after cooking for herself all
the time.
Gonff introduced her to Martin. She greeted him warmly.
"Martin, welcome, friend. We have heard of you already from Ben Stickle. I
believe you gave a Kotir patrol a taste of your warrior skills single-pawed,
before they managed to capture you. We shall be grateful if you would share
your talents with us in the times that lie ahead. Tell me, did you come from
the northlands?"
Martin nodded as he shook Bella's big paw. The badger smiled knowingly. "Ah, I
thought so. You probably cut your eyeteeth on rats and foxes. I've heard all
about the warrior mice from up north. Come and meet some friends of mine from
the south."
Bella took them to the kitchen, where they were introduced to Abbess Germaine,
who was presiding over the preparations. From there Gonff took Martin to be
introduced to Ben and Goody Stickle.
The two hedgehogs were overjoyed to see Gonff back safe. They patted him
furiously on the head, as their spines prevented them hugging anyone other
than fellow hedgehogs.
Goody patted and scolded Gonff at the same time. "Oh, my goodness, thank mice
you're back, you Hddle rip. Don't
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go evergettin* yourself locked up like that again. Me 'n Ben was plain worried
for you, Gonff."
Ben was patting Martin's head enthusiastically. "Heed what Goody tells you,
Gonff. "Tis for your own good. Be more like young Martin here—only get
yourself caught when there's nought else for it."
Goody nodded in agreement, trying to look severe, but Gonff caught her by the
paws and danced her about.
YouVe been more than a mum to me, And you brought me up very well I'm a little
mousehog to thee. My Goody, no words can tell, When I see your old prickle
face—
"Get on with you, thievin' fiddle fibber!" Goody shooed Gonff off, wiping her
eyes on her old flowery apron.
Gonff flung a paw across Martin's shoulder. As they strolled away smiling, Ben
sniffed loudly. "Can't fail to like that little rogue, some'ow."
"Silence, woodlanders, please." Bella called out, "Could you all find a seat?
The food will be served after the talking has been done."
The hall was full, creatures occupying seats, shelves, hearth and floor.
Skipper banged his tail. The hubbub subsided, and he nodded for Bella to
continue.
"Thank you. Welcome, one and all. As you can see, there are many new friends
in our midst, not the least of whom is Martin the Warrior. He and Gonff
recently escaped from Kotir prison in a very brave and daring manner."
Heads turned to look at Martin. There were winks, nods and pawshakes.
"Also I have great pleasure in introducing some mice that you may not know of
yet," Bella continued, "Abbess Germaine with her Brothers and Sisters of
Loamhedge. I am sure the Abbess would like to say a word."
There was general applause as the old mouse stood up.
"My mice and I wish to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for allowing us
to settle in your beautiful Mossflower country. We are a peaceful order of
builders and healers; in our own tradition we are wise in the ways of mother
nature.
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Please feel free to come to us with your families, the sick, injured, or just
fretful little ones. We will do all we can to help. The only price we ask is
the gift of your friendship. Perhaps one day when this land is free of the
tyranny which shadows it, we can work together to raise a mighty building,
giving settlement and security to all who wish to dwell peacefully within its
walls."
The Abbess sat down amid loud cheering and many offers of help from decent,
hardworking family creatures. Order was nearly restored when a young squirrel
voice piped up, "Caw, is that roast chestnut with cream and honey I can
smell?"
"Indeed it is, made to an old Loamhedge recipe, too." Abbess Germaine called
back, "Is the talking finished, Bella?"
"It certainly is, Abbess. I haven't had Loamhedge roasted chestnuts in many a
season. Stay where you are, everyone. The food is ready."
Suddenly a fat dormouse leaped up with a squeak of fright. "Ooh, the floor's
moving!"
"Don't be afeared, matey," Skipper laughed. "That'll be Foremole arrivin*.
He's smelled the vittles, too."
Willing paws united to lift a floorstone. There was a moment's silence, the
earth trembled slightly, then a huge pair of paws with powerful digging claws
broke through. Seconds later they were followed by a dark velvety head with
tiny bright black eyes, a moist snout, and a gruff whiskery mouth.
"Boy urr, a mornin' to 'ee, do be sorry bouten tunnel. Cooken smells roight
noice." Foremole popped out like a black furry cannonball, followed by a score
and a half of grinning moles. Like their leader they all spoke in heavy rural
molespeech.
"Ho urr, 'lo Bella stroip'ead."
"Yurr, be that chesknutters oi smell?"
"Hoo arr, oi gets powerful 'ungered a-tunellen."
"Harr, morrow to 'ee, Skip. 'Ow do 'ee do."
The industrious moles were loved by all the woodlanders. Infants shrieked with
laughter at their quaint speech, and the moles would smile, speaking more
broadly, if that were possible.
Exclamations of admiration and delight greeted the food
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as it was served. After all, who could resist roast chestnuts served in cream
and honey, or clover oatcakes dipped in hot ledcurrant sauce, celery and herb
cheese on acorn bread with chopped radishes, or a huge home-baked seed and
sweet barley cake with mint icing, all washed down with either October ale,
pear cordial, strawberry juice or good fresh milk.
Martin muttered through a mouthful of cake and milk, "In the name of mice, I'd
have been a cook and not a warrior if I knew food could taste this good."
Gonff grinned, trying to answer through a face crammed with chestnut, honey
and strawberry juice. "Mmmfff, shoulden talk wiff y'mouff full."
Bella sat with the Corim leaders. As they ate they talked. *'I think for the
future we should all live together here in Brockhall—at least all those that