Uncle Doogy clashed his claymore upon his shield and shouted, “Ah can see two wee maggots in there called Araltum an’ Idga. Shove ’em out! We want tae have words with ’em!”
The pair were pushed out by the other squirrels. Honestly, I had never set eyes on two more fat, wheezy, overdressed little beasts. Tearstained and wailing, with both their homemade crowns askew, they grovelled on the ground in front of us. A moment later, a young squirrel, almost as fat as the two of them put together, strutted out. He was fearfully ugly and had a squeaky, petulant lisp.
“Who are these cweatures? Thwow them in pwison an’ give them no bwead or dwink for thwee days!”
Uncle Doogy scowled at him. “An’ who are ye, mah bold wee barrel-bottomed babe?”
The young squirrel stamped a podgy footpaw angrily. “Insolent squiwell, you are addwessing the Cwown Pwince Woopurt. Show some wespect, an’ bow before me, wetch!”
My dad ignored him. Taking the banner, he rolled it lengthways into a long scarf. This he knotted loosely about the necks of King Araltum and his Drayqueen Idga.
Dad sounded very stern when he spoke to them. “I bring ye back the banner now, as I vowed I would. Doogy and I were fools to ever swear our oaths to ye. Release us from our bond now, Araltum. Keep your promise!”
Dad and Doogy both drew their swords. Araltum arose, trembling. He placed his paws on both blades and said, “I release you from your bonds and pledges, from hereon you may use your swords as freebeasts!” All the squirrels—including more who had emerged from the groves—drowned out any further speeches by the pompous king with their cheering and leaping about.
Little Crown Prince Roopert kicked the nearest squirrel, shouting shrilly at him, “Tweason, you’re all under awwest for tweachery!”
Pinetooth, the old squirrel he had kicked, was a longtime friend of my father. He kicked Roopert back, right on his fat little rear end. Then he winked at my dad and Uncle Doogy. “I’ve been wantin’ to do that for a while now, mates. ’Tis time Araltum an’ Idga’s rule came to an end!”
Amid happy celebrations, the squirrels marched with us from the groves down to the sea. Pinetooth, and another old squirrel named Hinjo, offered the twin crowns of Araltum and Idga to my mum and dad. Mother was magnificent. After taking both crowns and throwing them into the sea, she made a speech.
“Friends, there will be no more tyranny. From now on, you must live together in harmony. We wish you peace and long life!”
Setting our faces toward the mountain fortress of Salamandastron, which loomed to the north like a silent sentinel guarding the shores, we marched off. The jubilant squirrels cheered us until they were mere dots on the tideline, far behind us.
I always thought Redwall Abbey was a big place, but the sight of Salamandastron, from close up, took my breath away. Simply colossal! What a delegation came out to meet us! Though I had never seen the hares before (they had left Redwall long before I was born), I was able to put names to some of their faces—Sergeant Wonwill, Captain Derron Fortindom, Lancejack Wilderry, Flunkworthy, Folderon and a couple who had been wed for five seasons now, Ferdimond De Mayne and Kersey. These two had their infant son with them, a chubby creature named Dauncey De Mayne (Dauncey, in memory of Kersey’s twin brother). The Long Patrol put on a Guard of Honour, escorting us into the large Banquet Hall. A feast was held to welcome us—and, I must say, those regimental cooks did us proud! I was especially overawed by Lady Melesme; she was every bit the Badger Ruler of Salamandastron. Tall, stately and dignified, dressed in only simple homespun robes, she radiated serenity and respect. Now I know why badgers are regarded as such special creatures.
We spent six glorious days at the mountain. In my spare time this winter, I plan to write a journal to recount this experience, though it will be difficult to properly describe what a fascinating place the mountain is—so shrouded it is in grandeur, legend and mystery.
I was loath to leave when the time came, and I promised to visit them in the future. We left there with an escort of twoscore Long Patrol hares to guide us back home. Actually, it was twoscore and three—Ferdimond and Kersey, together with baby Dauncey, are coming back to the Abbey as our resident hares. Sadly, we left minus one of our number: the goshawk Tergen had elected to stay on at Salamandastron as lookout and scout to the regiment. Such a fierce heart as he will, I’m sure, find his true destiny there among the warriors.
What more can I tell you, my friend? We are back once more in our beloved home, and the autumn season is upon us. Burlop Cellarhog has predicted the harvest will begin tomorrow at dawn. Tonight there is a beautiful harvest moon. Mother and I will be taking all the Dibbuns, including little Dauncey De Mayne, out to our Abbey pond. There we will cast pebbles at the moon’s reflection in the water. They say that if you make a wish before the ripples reach the pond’s edge, your wish will be granted. So I will cast my pebble right into the centre of the moon’s reflection and make a wish for all of us—the creatures of Redwall, my family and friends, and a special one, just for both of us. I wish for the harvest to be an abundant one, and I wish that the feast we have tomorrow night in the orchard will have the most beautiful decorations of flowers and many-hued lanterns. I wish for peace and prosperity, love and happiness for all. I know I will not have to wish that the food will be at its most delicious. How else could it be at our Abbey? I will lay a place at our table for you and hope you can join us, if not in body, then in the world of your imagination, where you can visit us any time.
Melanda MacBurl. Recorder of Redwall Abbey
in Mossflower Country
He lost a sword an’ gained a sword,
tae triumph at the slaughter.
He’s met a Sister, found a wife
an’ gained a bonny daughter!
Tam took his bond back off the fool,
he left him sore an’ grievin’.
An’ gave tae friends o’ former days,
a grand auld taste o’ freedom!
Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,
the drums are beatin’ braw.
Och, now ye’ve gained a heart’s desire,
ye’ll no more march tae war!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is
http://www.penguinputnam.com