Abbess Tansy and Arven, with a deputation of otters and elders, stood in the open gateway to greet the Long Patrol. Captain Twayblade broke ranks to embrace the Abbess warmly.

“Mother Abbess, so good t’see you, old friend. You look wonderful!”

“Twayblade, what a lovely surprise. Welcome to our Abbey again!”

Old friends met old friends, and new ones were made as introductions flew thick and fast. The dashing hares of the Long Patrol were much admired by the Redwallers as they stood there chatting in the Abbey gateway, leaning on their weapons, smartly clad in their tunics, with medals and ribbons on display. Secretly, even the most humble Abbeydwellers wished they too could present such a picture—jolly, courteous, and kind, but feared by their enemies and totally perilous.

Major Perigord winked at Skipper. “What d’ye say, old lad, d’ye think everybeast here would like to march in with us, make a jolly good entrance, wot!”

Skipper stood smartly to attention at the Major’s side. “Good idea, matey. Ahoy, form up in a line o’ fours, let’s bring our guests ’ome in style. Arven, Shad, up front ’ere with me’n’the Major. Great seasons, I wish we ’ad a band!”

Perigord drew his saber with a flourish and a rattle. “Your word is my command, sah. Rubbadub, beat us in with your best drums, if y’would!”

Dibbuns whooped in delight and amazement as Corporal Rubbadub milled about, waving his paws and setting up a dust and a din.

“Baboom! Baboom! Baboombiddy boombiddy boom! Drrrrrapadapdap! Drrrubbadubdub! Bababoom! Bababoom! Bababoom!”

Cheering aloud and stamping their paws in time to the beat, the cavalcade marched across the lawns to the Abbey in fine military style. Tammo and Pasque strode alongside Friar Butty and the molebabe Gubbio, chatting animatedly. The young squirrel Friar had excellent news for them.

“You’ve arrived at a good time, friends. Today we’re havin’ a great feast to celebrate the birth of three liddle owlchicks.”

Pasque’s normally soft voice was shrill with excitement. “I say! Y’mean we’re actually goin’ t’be guests at a famous Redwall feast?”

Gubbio grabbed her paw as he hop-skipped to Rubbadub’s drums. “Ho aye, marm, ee’ll ’ave such vittles’n’fun as ne’er afore!”

As soon as they were inside the Abbey, those hares who had never visited Redwall were led off on a grand tour by a gang of eager Dibbuns. Other Redwallers went about their tasks to prepare for the festivities, while Abbess Tansy and her elders retired to Cavern Hole with Perigord, Twayblade, Rockjaw, and Torgoch.

The hares were offered light refreshments of candied fruits and red-currant cordial as they exchanged news and information with their hosts. Tansy listened carefully to the account of the skirmish in the defile, shaking her head in sorrowful bewilderment at the death of Russa Nodrey, who had visited Redwall many times in bygone seasons. When the tale was told, Rockjaw opened the sling, which he had held easily concealed beneath his tunic, and presented the Abbess with his precious burden.

“Sithee, marm, this is the babby. A grand likkle male an’ good as gold for company on a march, ’e is!”

Tansy could not wait to hold the tiny bundle. She placed a cushion in her lap and laid him on it. He was no more than a season old, hardly any age at all. Lying flat on his back, the babe yawned and opened his soft dark eyes as the Abbess inspected him. The badger’s back was silver gray, and his chest and paws were velvety black. He had a moist brown nose and a snow-white head, sectioned by two thick black stripes running either side of the muzzle from whiskers to ears, covering both eyes.

Craklyn touched the upturned footpads. “Seasons of winter! Just look at the size of these paws! He’s goin’ to be big as an oak when he grows to full size!”

Tansy chuckled fondly as she tickled the babe’s tiny white-tipped ears. “Welcome to Redwall Abbey, little sir, and pray, what name do you go by?”

The baby badger held out his paws to her, growling, “Nunnee! Nunnee!”

“The little chap’s said that several times,” Major Perigord explained, “only word he seems t’know. We’ve surmised that it means Nanny, the old badger he was with. She was prob’ly his grandmother or nurse—’fraid we haven’t a clue as to who his parents are. There was certainly no sign of them where we found him. Had there been two grown badgers with him, those vermin would’ve given the place a wide berth, wot!”

Foremole Diggum placed a honeyed hazelnut in the babe’s paws, and immediately he began chewing the nut hungrily.

“Burr,” said Diggum, “’ee may be a h’orphan, but thurr b’aint nuthin’ amiss wi’ ee appetoit, no zurr!”

A bowl of creamy mushroom soup was sent for, and Tansy fed the babe while other matters were discussed. The Redwallers knew nothing of Rapscallions, nor had any other vermin been sighted in the region of late. Arven related the dangerous position of the Abbey’s outer south wall and their plans to rebuild it.

By the time the discussions were near their close, the little badger had licked the soup bowl clean and gone back to sleep in the Abbess’s lap. Major Perigord had listened pensively to the problems faced by Redwall and its creatures. He stood abruptly, having reached a decision.

“Well, chaps, my duty as Commanding Officer, Long Patrol, is pretty clear. Until your wall is rebuilt and the Abbey safe’n’secure once more, me an’ my hares will guard Redwall an’ patrol the area night and day. Couldn’t do any less, wot! Lady Cregga’d have me ears’n’tail if I didn’t. So, marm, if you are willin’ to accept us, me an’ my troop are at y’service!”

Bowing low, Perigord presented his saber hilt-first to the Abbess. Abbess Tansy touched the handle, signifying her approval.

“My humble thanks to you, Major. I am sure that I speak for all Redwallers when I say that we are assured of safety by your presence, and your gallant offer is warmly accepted!”

Foremole Diggum threw in a gem of mole logic: “Gudd! Then if you’n’s be afinished usin’ gurt long apportant words, may’ap us’n’s best go an’ get ee feast ready, ho urr aye!”

*

Midge Manycoats sucked his paw ruefully. “Huh, I’ve just been pecked by perishin’ owlbabes!”

Chuckling, Friar Butty replaced the lid on a steaming pan. “You must taste good to ’em, Midge. Come over ’ere an’ lend a paw. I’m showin’ Tammo an’ Missie Pasque how t’make Mossflower Wedge.”

Both hares were intrigued by the goings-on in Redwall’s kitchens; it made such a pleasant change from marching and fighting. Pasque had lined a rectangular earthenware dish with pastry, which Butty was viewing approvingly.

“Well done, missie, we’ll make cooks of you hares yet. Tammo, are you ready with the first layer?”

Tammo wielded a ladle, enjoying himself immensely. “Wot? I’ll say I am. Now don’t tell me, Butty, just watch this!” He spread the chopped button mushroom and grated carrot mixture on its pastry base, making sure it was level.

“There! Righto, Pasque, you an’ Midge chuck in the next layer!”

Watched by the Friar, the two hares spread sliced white turnip and chopped leeks as a second layer. Then Butty placed a third layer of diced potato and slivered white cabbage.

He winked at Tammo and stood back, wiping his paws on a cloth. “Go on then, Tamm, I’m not tellin’ you what’s next, ’tis up t’you.”

Tammo took the lid off a panful of dark rich gravy. “Mmm, smells absolutely super duper! Stand clear, please!” He poured the gravy over the layered vegetables evenly, watching it soak through, pulling his paw back swiftly to avoid a slap with Butty’s damp cloth.

“No takin’ secret licks at the pan, or I’ll tell yore Sergeant an’ he’ll have yore tail for supper, or wotever it is he does. C’mon now, take an end o’ this cover each.”

Gingerly they lifted a big pastry top between them and flopped it gently over the dish. Butty took a knife and trimmed it while Tammo and Midge crimped the edges. Pasque borrowed Butty’s knife to cut a series of arrowhead slits in the center, then she brushed the top with a mixture of light vegetable oil and finely chopped spring onions.

The squirrel Friar shook their paws. “Well done, good effort for y’first Mossflower Wedge. Now, how long does it stand in the oven?”

Pasque and Tammo spoke out together, “Until it tells you it’s done!”

“Right! And when’s that?”

“When the crust is golden brown an’ shiny, an’ there’s no more steam coming out of the slits in the middle!”

“Correct! See, I told you I’d make Redwall cooks out of you. Now, let’s see how good y’are at makin’ Abbey Trifle. . . .”

*

A single lantern had been left burning at the platform dug by the moles beneath the south outer wall. The pale light flickered, sending its radiance down into the depths of the darkened chasm, where it shone feebly on the spray-drenched stones by the rushing water. In the dim light, bunched wet scales glistened, savage rows of ivory-hued teeth showed briefly, and two slitted eyes filmed over. The creature had heard the furry creatures above, it had seen them, so it waited hungrily, knowing that sooner or later they would be descending into the gloomy rift. Coiling its sinister length around a rock to prevent it being swept away . . . it waited.