Evening gave way to night as the maid sat at the foot of the dune, bathing the wound on her head with a corner of her burlap smock which she had soaked in water from her newfound well. Dabbing at the cut with one paw and devouring a root held in the other, the mousemaid talked aloud to herself, enjoying the sound of her own voice.
"No name, no memory, no idea where I am. Ha! I know, I'll call myself Storm, because it was the storm that brought me here. Yes, Storm, I like that ..."
She held the rope up and twirled it. "And you are
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my faithful Gullwhacker. There, we've both got new names now. This is goodI've got you, the shade from my sandhill, water and food."
Storm settled down in the sand as the warm summer night closed in on her. "Wish I knew who I really was, though ..." Her voice sounded small and lonely amid the scrub and desolation.
A pale golden moon peeped over the dunes at the little mousemaid sleeping by the foot of the hill, clutching a piece of knotted rope, for all the world like some infant in slumber nursing a favorite toy.
The famous kitchens of Redwall Abbey were abustle with activity that night. Friar Alder, the thin, lanky mouse in charge of it all, added wild plumjuice to an enormous hazelnut crumble he had just pulled from the oven. Alder blew on a scorched paw, complaining loudly.
"Not enough time. That's all I've been given, just not enough time. Who do they think I arn, a magician? Less than three days hence and I've got to supervise a fullblown Abbot's Midsummer Jubilee. Berry tarts, cream puddings, twelve different kinds of breads, cheeses and salads, not to mention a surprise cake ..."
Bagg and Runn, the otter twins, followed Alder, waving their paws and repeating his every word in comic imitation.
"Breads, cheeses and salads, not to mention a surprise cake. . . . Owch!"
Friar Alder had turned quickly and dotted them both between the ears with a wooden spoon. "I told you not to mention a surprise cake. Now off you pop, the pair of you. Go and help Dandin and Saxtus."
Dandin and Saxtus were being taught the art of woodland summercream pudding-making by a charming little red squirrelmaid named Treerose, though they
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were paying far more attention to the pretty cook than to the recipe.
"Now, to make woodland summercream pudding we need a deep earthenware bowl. Pass me that one, please."
Dandin and Saxtus fought each other to grab the bowl and give it to Treerose. Calmly she took it from them with a disarming smile.
"Great sillies, you nearly broke it, fighting like that. Right, now pay attention. First a thick coating of redcur-rant jelly inside the bowl. Next, roll out your sweet chestnut pastry very thin, like this. . . . Bagg! Runn! Stop eating those blackberriesI need them for the pudding!"
The twin otters bounded away to torment some other creature, their mouths stained purple from the berries. They caught a young bankvole named Petunia and kissed her cheeks until she was covered in purple otter-lip marks. Petunia's mother grabbed them and set about them with a soggy dishcloth. Dandin and Saxtus roared laughing, but Treerose merely pursed her mouth primly and reprimanded them.
"There's nothing funny about those two ruffians. Watch me, or you'll never learn. Now, make sure the sweet chestnut pastry is well bedded into the redcurr-ant jelly around the sides of the bowl, then we coat the pastry with an extra-thick layer of yellow primrose cream. Having done that, we take the blackberries and, starting from the bottom of the basin, we place them on the cream, pressing just lightly enough to make them stick to the cream. Teh tch, you great clumsy fellows, not like that. You'll burst the berries. Wipe your paws and watch me."
Blushing furiously, Dandin and Saxtus wiped their paws as the young charmer carried on efficiently.
"Now I'm going to coat these thick almond wafers with some light honeycream, like so. ... You see how easily they stick to the blackberries when I use them as
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the next layer. There, that's that. All that remains now is for me to spoon the applecream into the center until the basin is full. To finish off, cover the whole thing with a short hazelnut pastry glazed with clear honey to give it a nice shiny crust. Open that bottom oven door, please."
"Owch! Ooch! Yagh! Woop!"
"Great silly mice! Use oven cloths to protect your paws. Out of the way! I'll see to it. You two are as much use as moles up a tree."
Dandin and Saxtus sucked their scorched paws and stood watching, red with embarrassment as Treerose, the perfect little Miss Efficiency, swung the oven door wide, popped the pudding inside and shut the door with a few deft movements.
Mother Mellus wandered over, trimming the edges from a strawberry flan. "Hello, Treerose. How are the two star pupils doing?"
"Clumsy as ducks on an iced pond, Mother Mellus."
Treerose turned and flounced off. The badger ruffled the ears of the crestfallen mice.
"Never mind. Tell you whatif you get me some cider from Gabriel Quill to bake my horse chestnuts in, I'll let you try one each."
The pair dashed off happily to the wine cellars. Mellus chuckled as she helped herself to a pawful of apple, cheese and nut salad that Sister Sage was chopping.
"Poor old Dandin and Saxtus. That young Treerose is enough to turn any novice's head and set him on his tail. She does it all the time."
Sister Sage topped the salad off with crushed mint dressing. "Yes, I can remember a young mouse being like that about me when I was a snip of a mousemaid. Brother Hubert, would you believe."
Mellus chuckled deeply. "What? You mean old dusty drawers Hubert? Surely not!"
"Oh, he was quite a handsome young dog at one
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time. We studied together under Sister Verity. She was a stern old stickler; 'Hubert/ she'd say, 'stop staring like a hungry owl at Sage and get on with your work.' " Sister Sage patted her rotund little waist. "That was when I fell out of love with Hubert and into love with food. Ah well, that's the salad. What's next? Pears in custard with wild cherries. Mmmm, my favorite!"
oo
In the wine cellars, Dandin and Saxtus followed Gabe Quill. His nephew Durry carried the lantern for them as Gabe pointed out some of his specialties.
"See that liddle keg yonderaye, that un. Well, that's the best wild plum brandy ever fermented in these cellars. They do say it was made by big Brown-spike O'Quill, my ancestor. Marvelous stuff it is, one tot of that'd cure a drownin' fish. That's why Sister Sage or Simeon are the only beasts who use itmedicinal purposes. That big tun barrel at the back now, that's dandelion beer. Very good of a cold winter's night with toasted cheese. This one here, haha, you must try this rascal. Funniest drink I ever did make. It was meant to be buttercup 'n' honey cordial, but I made it too sweet, so I takes a herb here an' a plant there an' chucks 'em in to bitter it a touch. Mercy me! It didn't go any less sweet, no sir, it started a-fizzin' an' bubblin'. Little uns do love it dearly. Here, try some."
Dandin, Saxtus and Durry stood wide-eyed as Gabe Quill tapped the barrel and drew three small beakers off. The bright yellow cordial popped, fizzed and gurgled as if it were alive. Drinking it proved almost impossible. Gabe Quill stood by, quaking with mirth as the three young ones tried.
"Whan! Ooh, it's gone right up my nose!" "Heeheehee! It tickles all the way down!" "Woogolly! It's like having a tummyful of mad butterflies!"