They placed the long banqueting tables, one at the bottom of Cregga’s bed and one on either side, leaving a space between the latter two and the tapestried wall. It was to be a memorable feast in honor of Cregga. Every little thing Friar Bobb and Filorn knew the Badgermum liked to eat was placed by her, close to paw. Hot scones, soft cheeses, candied fruits and summer salad. Drogg Cellarhog commandeered the willing paws of Boorab, Nimbalo and Foremole Brull. Between them they brought all Cregga’s (and quite a few of their own) favorite drinks to the tables. This involved a good amount of choosing and tasting, in which they all took part cheerfully.

“Yurr, this’n strawbee fizzer be’s a good ’un!”

“Hmm, y’don’t say, marm? Let me taste a smidgen. Nimbalo, old scout, tell me what y’think of this October Ale, wot?”

“Prime stuff, matey. ’Ow d’ye brew this stuff, Mister Drogg?”

“With tender lovin’ care, friend. ’Tis a secret known only to Redwall Cellarkeepers, passed down over countless seasons. Now, take a drop o’ this pale cider, sweetened with heather’n’clover honey. Ole Cregga Badgermum’s very partial to it.”

Sister Alkanet appeared in their midst, paws akimbo. “Then perhaps you’d better leave a drop in case she’s thirsty!”

The tasters shuffled about like naughty Dibbuns caught in the act.

“We were just doin’ a spot of checkin’, marm, wot. Right, chaps, let’s get this lot up to Great Hall. ’Scuse us, Sister, wot wot!”

Mhera and Fwirl were getting the Dibbuns ready, helped by Egburt and Floburt. Soapwort, blended with rose petals and almond oil, created a sweet aroma around the dormitory. Fwirl and Mhera washed and dried the little ones, passing them on to Floburt and Egburt, who dressed them in spotlessly clean smocks, amid loud protests.

Brother Hoben popped his head around the doorway. “Great seasons, who are all these nice shining creatures? Surely not the mucky little Dibbuns who were playing in the orchard this afternoon!”

Trey the mousebabe waved a tiny paw at Hoben. “You nex’ t’get washed, Bruvver. Looka you, ole muckybeast!”

Hoben allowed the Abbeybabes to drag him in, and good-naturedly pretended to protest as Fwirl readied a soapy flannel. “No, please, I haven’t got time. I’m very busy. What’ll I do if soap gets in my eyes?”

The little mousemaid Feegle scoffed at him scornfully. “Keep you eyes closed then, an’ don’t cry.”

Hoben allowed Fwirl to wash his paws and face, wincing as she dried him roughly and combed the tats out of his whiskers. The Dibbuns roared with laughter at his mock sulks. “Ouch, ow! There’s soap in my eye an’ you’re hurting me!”

Mhera and Fwirl played along with the Brother.

“Be still, you silly great mouse, let me dry down those ears!”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Brother. Look at these Dibbuns, they never made half the fuss you’re making!”

*

Early evening bells tolled out over Redwall Abbey, calling all its inhabitants to the feast. Filorn took her daughter’s paw as they crossed Great Hall together. There was a tinge of regret in Mhera’s voice.

“I wish Deyna was here tonight. I’ve never really met him and I only saw him for a short time.”

The ottermum patted her paw gently. “Don’t fret, Mhera, there are many seasons ahead for you both to get to know one another. Skipper is a good beast. I trust him. He’ll bring Deyna back to us safe and sound, you’ll see. Now smile, my pretty one. Don’t let our Badgermum feel that you’re unhappy in any way.”

Sister Alkanet shuddered visibly as a discordant jangle grated on her nerves. Boorab and a half-dozen otters lugged the haredee gurdee across the stone floor toward the tables. She sniffed. “I hope you don’t intend making a din with that infernal contraption and ruining the evening?”

The irrepressible hare saluted and jingled his earbells. “Din, marm? Beggin’ y’pardon, I’m an expert musician, I don’t make dins. Never know when one needs a trusty old haredee gurdee at a party, wot. Gangway, you chaps, make way for a priceless instrument an’ a valued an’ talented creature. Master of Ceremonies, y’know. Miss Mhera said I could perform the honors. Charmin’ young gel, that ’un, bit like her dear mama, wot!”

When everybeast was seated and the bells had ceased tolling, Boorab arose and pounded the tabletop with a ladle. “Good evenin’, chaps, chapesses an’ goodbeasts all. Ahem! Pray silence whilst Brother Hoben says the grace!”

Hoben nodded to the hare and proceeded.

“Seasons of plenty at Redwall,

Yield their bounty to us all,

From the good earth’s fertile soil,

We who bent our backs in toil,

Reaped Mother Nature’s rich reward,

To bring unto this festive board,

This food which we have labored for,

What honest beast could ask for more,

Save that kind seasons never cease,

And hope to live long lives in peace!”

Midst a loud and fervent amen, Boorab’s ladle hit the table again. “Well done, sah! Redwallers, kindly be upstandin’. I propose a toast, to the creature we are here to jolly well honor. Cregga, Badgermum of this Abbey!”

Everybeast, even the smallest Dibbuns, arose and raised a profusion of beakers, cups, goblets and tankards. The roar almost shook the rafters as they took up the toast.

“To Cregga, Badgermum of this Abbey!”

Gundil, quite overcome by the moment, scrambled beneath the table, hurried across to Cregga and shook her paw heartily. “Hurr, mum, ee be’s gurtly luvved yurr. Doo ee say a speech!”

Several more came forward to prop the badger up on her pillows. Cregga’s sightless eyes turned this way and that, as if she could see every creature sitting around her.

“Thank you, Gundil. I hope you’ll bear with me, friends. I have quite a few words to say, some of great importance.”

Boorab quaffed off a beaker of redcurrant cordial. “Then say on, old gel. We’re all ears, wot!”

“Yore the only one ’ere who’s all ears, mate!”

Cregga waved a paw, silencing the laughter Nimbalo’s remark had caused. “Thank you. Please, sit down and eat. You must all be hungry, and I know a lot of hard work went into the making of my feast. Eat and listen, for I have a lot to say.”

The food was served and the feasting began as Cregga continued, “The seasons of Abbess Song were finished before any of you were born, I think. I was her greatest friend and she left me in charge of our Abbey. I didn’t take the position she offered me as Abbess, but chose instead to be a caretaker, until a likely candidate appeared as Abbot or Abbess. I was guided by the teachings and wisdom of my friend Song in my search. Though you did not know it, I waited many many seasons, always listening and paying attention to all about me. One day I discovered a likely prospect. At first I was not sure, so I had to wait longer, observing the young Redwaller who attracted my interest. Then I set about educating my candidate, leaving clues, giving hints and always paying attention to the creature of my choice. Nobeast, not even I, can live forever; since I took that vermin arrow this fact has become quite plain to me. So tonight I propose to elect, with your approval, a new Abbey leader.”

Immediately, all Redwallers, including Boorab and Nimbalo, ceased eating to hear Cregga’s announcement.

“Mhera, daughter of Filorn, would you come over here to me, please.”

The ottermaid stood up amid wild applause, cheers, whistles and ladles pounding upon tables. Willing paws pushed her forward.

“Congratulations, my dear! Oh goodness, to think a daughter of mine is going to rule Redwall!”

“Hurr, miz, ee Badgermum knowed whut she wurr a doin’ when she’m chosen ee, ho aye, boi okey she’m did, hurr hurr hurr!”

“Jus’ like yore brother, missy, yore a nat’ral leader, but far prettier than ’im, even though ’e is me matey!”

“Oh I say, top hole, m’gel, spiffin’, wot! Does this mean I’m not on probation any longer? Well played, you young . . . er, I mean O respected leader an’ all that, eh wot!”

“Mhera, best wishes from Fwirl and me, and Friar Bobb!”

Sister Alkanet thrust a clean kerchief into Mhera’s paw. “Stand up straight now, miss, and no tears. I’d have chosen you too if I was Cregga. Go to her now.”

Mhera made it as far as Cregga’s bed, then sat beside the Badgermum and broke down sobbing. “Oh, Cregga, you’re not dying, are you?”

The great badger chuckled. “Dry your eyes, pretty one. I’m not going to pass on in the midst of my own feast and leave that hare with all the food. Look here.” She brought from beneath her robe an object bound with strips of green cloth. She unwrapped the scraps of fabric and gave them to Mhera, together with the small bark-bound volume that had been hidden inside them.

“There’s the rest of your mysteries. All the ITTAGALLs old Hoarg and I didn’t have time to hide around the Abbey. You can read all about them in the book, but leave that until the morrow. We’re right in the middle of a celebration; I can’t have ottermaids weeping and riddles unraveling.” Cregga raised her voice so everybeast could hear. “Your new Abbess Mhera is going to make an announcement.”

In the silence that followed, Trey the mousebabe piped up. “I ’ope it not that alla Dibbun get anuvver wash!”

Mhera burst out laughing at the cheeky infant. “Hahahaha! No it’s not. As Abbess of Redwall Abbey I request that you all carry on feasting and have a wonderful time!”

Cregga waited until the roars of approval had died down. “Attention please, friends. I have only a little more to say before I retire and leave Mother Abbess Mhera to watch over Redwall. I would like to confirm that Boorab’s probation is now over, and he is a fully fledged Master of Abbey Music.”

With his mouth still full of plum pudding and cider, the hare leaped up and went sprawling. He bolted upright and saluted. “Thank you, marm. I wish to say . . .”

Drogg Cellarhog blinked and wiped a paw across his face. “Don’t you mean you wish to spray? Finish eatin’ first!”

Boorab swallowed hastily and looked regally down his nose at Drogg. “Mind y’manners, old chap, wot! Er, where was I? Oh yes. Blinkin’ long probation, but thank you, marm, and you too, Mother Abbess. I say, flippin’ ottermaid young enough t’be one’s daughter an’ one’s got to call her Mother. Bit thick, wot! Ahem, in honor of the jolly old occasion, marm, I shall play my haredee gurdee and sing for you. Now what is your pleasure? A ballad, a dirge, a song of unrequited love, wot?”

Cregga lay back and smiled fondly. “Nothing mournful or sad, if you please. Play me . . . a rousing old marching song, so I can . . . remember the good old days when I ruled the hares of the Long Patrol at Salamandastron. A special . . . favorite of mine was ‘The Battle of the Boiling Water.’ Do you . . . know it, Boorab?”

The hare was already making complicated adjustments to his cumbersome instrument. He chuckled confidently. “Know it, marm? I learned it sittin’ on my old grandpa’s lap. You remember him, of course, old Pieface Baggscut, the most perilous an’ greedy hare in the regiment. ’Twas his favorite song, too. Ah, those were the long sunny days, marm—”

Foremole Brull twitched the hare’s bobbed tail. “Stop ee jawin’ an’ sing yurr song, zurr!”

Boorab twiddled the strings, struck a small drum and wound a handle. Three ladybirds flew out of the instrument in a cloud of dust. He launched lustily into the song.

“Well I have to sing of a day in spring,

When I kissed me wife an’ daughter,

Then marched away to join the fray,

At the Battle of the Boiling Water.

With a tear in me eye and an apple pie,

I roared the jolly chorus,

As the drums did roll for the Long Patrol,

We conquered all before us!

There was Colonel Stiff an’ Sergeant Biff,

Who had a wooden leg sah,

And in the lead, oh yes indeed,

Stood Lady Rose Eyes Cregga,

There was Corporal Black the big lancejack,

An’ meself a half ear shorter,

An’ a small fat cook with a dirty look,

At the Battle of the Boiling Water!”

As the drums on the haredee gurdee boomed out and Redwallers pounded the tabletops to the jolly marching air, Cregga went back in her mind. She was young and strong, her sight was perfect, and she was striding the dusty flatlands at the head of a thousand young marching hares, carrying her enormous axepike. No day was too long then, no march too tiresome. Like smoke, a dust column rose in a plume in their wake on that high far-off day, long long ago. She hummed the jaunty tune, reveling in the summer heat, glad to be alive and so full of strength. Smiling and nodding to her trusty officers, every one dashing and perilous, the sight of their faces delighting her. Sight. What a glorious gift it was. Blue skies, the sun, like a golden eye, watching over white mountaintops, green valleys, clear meandering streams. The misty figure of Boorab’s grandsire appeared before her on the march and threw her a gallant salute with his saber blade.

“All present an’ correct, marm. Where to now?”

Cregga heard herself saying, “Into the setting sun, over the hills and far away.”

Boorab’s voice, and the music of the haredee gurdee, faded slowly as she marched off into the sunny afternoon long gone.

“So we ate our scoff an’ the war kicked off,

’Twas a day of fearsome slaughter,

An’ a skinny rat shot off me hat,

At the Battle of the Boiling Water.

Then the good old sarge just yelled out ‘Charge!’

Ten thousand vermin scattered,

While the puddens flew ’til the air turned blue,

All steamed an’ fried an’ battered!

Well, I knocked the socks off a fluffy fox,

An’ walloped a weasel wildly,

I snaffled the coat off a snifflin’ stoat,

An’ flattened a ferret finely.

We whacked an’ thumped an’ kicked an’ jumped,

We showed the foe no quarter.

’Til they ran away an’ we won the day,

At the Battle of the Boiling Water!”

Mhera was holding the Badgermum’s paw, and felt her slip away at the end of the second verse. The ottermaid sat at her friend’s side, still holding her limp paw and staring at her smiling face. Cregga looked so peaceful and happy. Boorab finished his song, bowing and posing outrageously as the haredee gurdee groaned and wheezed to a halt amid the cheering and stamping of applauding Redwallers. Sister Alkanet saw Mhera sitting dry-eyed at the badger’s side, looking into her still face. Sensing something was wrong, the Sister hastened over, followed by Filorn, who nodded to Boorab, indicating he should sing the song again as an encore. Nobeast noticed, amid the gaiety, what was going on at the bed beneath Martin the Warrior’s tapestry.

Alkanet leaned close to Mhera and whispered, “What is it? Has Cregga Badgermum fallen asleep?”

Mhera touched the sightless eyes, closing them for the last time. “Aye, Sister. Our Badgermum has finally gone to rest forever.”

A tear brimmed from Alkanet’s eye. Mhera wiped it away. “Not now, Sister, we’ll weep later. Don’t let them know Cregga is gone. Carry on with the feast in her honor; that’s what she would have wanted. Chin up now, be brave!”

Sister Alkanet turned to Filorn, and there was awe in her voice. “Truly your daughter is the Mother Abbess of Redwall!”