The Dibbuns cheered Gurvel loudly, glad to have an ally on their side. Most of the babes had never been to a harvest before, so they were eager to take part in one, knowing there would be a Harvest End Feast. The little ones began clamouring for Martha to sing the Harvest Song. Knowing they would not be quiet until she did, Martha obliged by singing the lively air, which included much tapping and paw stamping.
“Open the cupboard the bins and the stores,
go fetch out the trolleys and carts,
then out to the orchard the gardens and fields,
for a harvest to gladden our hearts.
Rappety tap, the Abbot’ll call,
watch out for those Dibbuns ’cos they’ll eat it all!
There’s blackberries blueberries raspberries too
strawberries and redcurrants bright,
wild cherries blueberries and blaeberries ripe,
to be all gathered in by tonight.
Rappety tap, wait for the feast,
just look at that Dibbun, the greedy wee beast!
Bring basket and barrel and bucket and pail,
pick rosehips red apples and pears,
greengages damsons and plums big and fine,
roll your sleeves up and banish your cares.
Rappety tap, that babe’s the worst,
if he eats another I swear that he’ll burst!
There’s almond and hazel and chestnut in bloom,
and a crop of good acorns there’ll be,
if you hold the ladder I’ll climb to the top,
and I’ll knock them all down from the tree.
Rappety tap, flat on the ground,
he’s rubbing his tummy and rolling around!
Let’s gather our harvest and bring it indoors,
then the Abbot’ll cry out ‘Well done!’
We’ve filled up the cupboards the bins and the stores,
in good time for the winter to come.
Rappety tap, quick close the door,
he’s up on his paws and looking for more!”
As usual, Martha had to sing the whole thing again so the Dibbuns could show off their fancy paw tapping. Whilst this was going on, the Abbot took Toran aside. He related what Martin the Warrior had told him in his dream. The ottercook was overjoyed at the news.
“As soon as the ’arvest moon shows, we’ll mount a watch on the walltops to welcome them back ’ome!”
Breakfast was about finished when Foremole Dwurl, who had been gatekeeper in Phredd’s absence, came trundling up with Lonna in tow. He hailed Toran. “Gudday, zurr. Lookit who’m just cummed a knocken on ee gate!”
The ottercook quickly cleared a place for them both. “Sit ye down, mates, an’ break yore fast. Lonna, where’ve ye been since yesterday? Everybeast was wonderin’ where ye’d got to.”
The big badger seated himself, allowing Gurvel to heap food in front of him. His fur was coated in dew, and the blood had matted on his wounds, but he looked happy. “The Searats are all accounted for—down to the last vermin. I was tired, but glad that I had ended my mission, so I lay down on the flatlands, about half a league from your Abbey. I must have slept deeply, because it was the sound of larks rising at dawn that awakened me. I was hoping there’d be a bite of breakfast left for a hungry badger. Thank you, marm!”
Granmum Gurvel piled corn and fruit slices on a platter. “You’m eat ’earty, zurr. Oi’ll cook more furr ee if’n ye be still ’ungered!”
Abbot Carrul beckoned Brother Gelf. “Draw off a pitcher of our best October Ale for Lonna. Nothing’s too good for the beast who saved Redwall from the Searats. Lonna, after you’ve eaten, Sister Portula will find you clean robes, and Sister Setiva will care for your wounds. You must rest now, friend!”
Seating themselves around the badger, the Dibbuns watched in awe as he satisfied his appetite.
Muggum nudged Buffle. “Yurr, ee’m gurtbeast surpintly can shuv ee vikkles away!”
Stifling a smile, Martha chided the molebabe. “Really, Muggum, mind your manners!”
Lonna sat Muggum on his paw and lifted him to face-height. “Listen to me, young sir, never mess with your food. Eat it all up like I do, then someday you’ll be a great warrior!”
Muggum nodded sagely. “Them bee’s woise wurds, zurr!”
It was five nights hence when the harvest moon waxed fully. Most Abbeybeasts were in their beds. Toran stood watch from the ramparts on the southwest corner, where he could view both the path and woodlands. Martha and Abbot Carrul, neither of whom felt like sleeping, joined the ottercook on his vigil. The three stood there, unaware that Lonna had come up behind them. For a beast of his size and weight, the badger could move silent as a shadow. They started slightly as he spoke.
“That nice old molewife in the kitchens asked me to bring some hot vegetable soup up for you.” Lonna poured the soup from a jug into four basins.
Toran sniffed it, exclaiming gratefully, “Good ole Gurvel!”
They sipped at their basins in silence, contemplating the serenity of a late summer’s night.
Nocturnal birdsong drifted from the shadowed trees of Mossflower. The path stood out like a tranquil stream, curling southward. Galaxies of twinkling stars pinpointed the cloudless vaults of sky above. A single comet streaked through space in brief silent glory. The harvest moon ruled over all, surrounded by a soft nimbus, resplendent in its own golden solitude.
None of the others noticed Lonna fitting a shaft to his bowstring. He peered toward the foliage which fringed the pathside. Drawing back his bow, Lonna called down, “Are you friend or foe?”
Three figures stepped out onto the path. One shouted, “Ahoy the walls, we come as friends!”
Martha’s good eyesight allowed her to quickly identify the caller. “It’s a shrew. There’s two more with him.”
Lonna relaxed his bowstring. “What do you want, friends?”
The lead shrew’s rapier blade flashed in the moonlight as he made a salute and offered it hilt first. “I am Jigger, son of Log a Log Briggy, Chieftain of the Guorafs crews! I carry news of your friends. My father sent me ahead to tell you of their approach!”
Toran and Lonna were already down and unbarring the gates as Martha assisted the Abbot to negotiate the wallsteps.
Old Phredd lit extra lanterns as they crowded into the gatehouse. When the introductions were completed, the young shrew made his report. It was not a happy tale that he had to relate. Martha was stunned beyond tears at the news of Bragoon’s and Saro’s death. Abbot Carrul hung his head and wept openly. Lonna stood by in respectful silence. Toran was the only one to speak.
“The young ’uns, are they all safe’n’well?”
Jigger nodded. “Aye, sir. Apart from a few scratches an’ sore footpaws, they’re fine. Miss Fenna told me that Bragoon was yore brother. ’Twas a brave thing him’n Saro did.”
The ottercook drew himself up straight and spoke proudly. “Aye, Bragoon an’ Sarobando was true-born Redwallers! No two like ’em, they was both wild warriors. But they did their duty an’ saved their friends. I wager they took a few o’ those vermin with ’em, eh?”
Jigger’s eyes were shining with admiration as he replied. “From wot our scouts said, they took ’em all, every last vermin, an’ their chief, the Wearet. That must’ve been a powerful battle, I’ll tell ye!”
Toran opened the gatehouse door. He took a deep breath of the fresh night air and smiled. “Funny, ain’t it, some’ow I couldn’t imagin’ Saro an’ Brag growin’ old like peaceful Abbeybeasts. Not those two. They went like they wanted to, the bravest o’ the brave!”
Lonna offered his paw to Toran. “True warriors have no fear of death. I only met your brother and his friend once. They were rare beasts!”
Abbot Carrul wiped at his eyes with damp habit sleeves. “Look at me, I must have forgotten my manners. Come to the Abbey, Jigger. Bring your two friends. You must be hungry after travelling so far. Lonna, will you wait by the gates and show the rest of them to the kitchens when they arrive?”
Jigger hitched up his rapier belt eagerly. “Lead on, Father. If’n the vittles at Redwall are as good as Horty tells me, I can’t wait t’get at ’em!”