Thura shuddered violently and plucked at the sleeves of a clean but much darned smock Foremole had made him put on.
Dingeye waggled a paw in his ear to remove surplus soap. "Phoo! That's some kind o' welcome fer two pore stoats, muckeran' they burned our good clothes too. Makes yer wonder wot these woodlands is comin' to. I tell yer, that's the first bath I've took in me life, an' the last one, too, thank yer kindly!"
Samkim and Arula could hardly eat for laughing, and little Dumble was doubled up with an attack of the giggles.
Samkim poured cider for all. "Hahahaha! Whatha-hahahappened then?"
Dingeye quaffed his drink indignantly. "Well may yer ask, mucker. That there longtailed bully of a hotter an' that savage liddle molefeller dragged us along to the kitchens to 'elp."
Thura's mouth was watering. "Aye, the whole place was full of scones, an' cakes an' trifles an' flans an' puddens an' custids an' ..."
Dingeye took another drink to wash the taste of soap away as he complained bitterly. "But did we get to work among the goodies? Not a frog's chance, mucker! That fat ol' Friar-mouse took one look at us an' sniffed. Aye, sniffed,'e did! Then 'e tells that hotter an' his pal the Fivemole to put us to scrubbin' greasy pans clean. Up to our noses in more water
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it was 'orrible, awful, I tell yer. Two noble stoats like us, togged up in smocks like a pair o' dog's dinners, wipin' an' a-scrubbin' at black pots an' crusty ol' bowls. Good job they let us come out 'ere in the fresh air. I was about to throw meself in the sink an' drown all mizzuble like in that there greasy dishwater!"
Arula was drinking from her beaker as he issued this statement. Unable to laugh and drink at the same time, she fell forward, sputtering out a spray of cider. "Burrhurrhurrhurr! You'm pore beasts 'ad a drefful toim of et all, tho' I do say it moiself. Hurrhurrhurr!"
Thrugg strode cheerily up and grabbed the unhappy stoats. "Righto, mates, vittles is finished. Back to the galley now, me lucky layabouts!"
Thura gave a heartfelt moan of despair. "I've gone all limp, mucker. That dishwater's gone ter me brains an' it's affectin' me paws. No more pots 'n' pans, please!"
Dingeye wriggled feebly in Thrugg's grip. "If I dies, mucker, promise you'll put a pot an' a pan on me grave, ter show wot caused it all!"
Samkim interceded with the otter on their behalf. "Let them stay here awhile, Thrugg. They look more worn out than two of last season's apple cores. Oh look, Sister Nasturtium is here!"
The Sister was a plump mouse, very pretty and jolly, and she had always been very popular with the young ones. They pushed about, making room for her.
"Yurr, marm, cum an' set along wi' us'ns."
She sat with them, helping herself to food. Samkim began coaxing her into singing; Nasturtium was famed throughout Redwall for her fine voice.
"Sister, these two poor stoats have never heard you sing. Could you do a little something for them, please?"
She gave a good-natured laugh. "It's not them, it's you who wants me to sing, Samkim."
The young squirrel flushed. "Oh please, Sister, we all want to hear you."
Nasturtium put aside her food and took a sip of cider to
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Brian Jacques
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clear her throat. Other Redwallers gathered closer to listen to her melodious voice.
"In days of old a warrior bold, All pawsore, tired and lame, Came marching through the winters cold, And Martin was his name. Martin, Martin, the Warrior of Redwall, With courage and his trusty sword, he came to
save us all.
Now in those high and far-off days, The country was oppressed By vermin cruel, whose tyrant ways Would let no creature rest. But truth and brav'ry won the day, For through all Mossflow'r wide, Good honest creatures made their way To stand by Martin's side.. . . And they cried: Martin, Martin the Warrior of Redwall, With courage and his trusty sword, he came to
save us all.
The evil ones he put to flight And justice he restored. His heart was strong, his cause was right, And mighty was his sword. He helped to build our Abbey here, The land rings with his fame. Now peace lives here, we know no fear, For Martin was his name. Martin, Martin the Warrior of Redwall, With courage and his trusty sword, He came to save us all!"
Every creature joined in the last rousing chorus and set up a loud cheer. The echoes bounced off the homely red walls and soared to the blue summer skies above. Dingeye and Thura cheered as loud as anybeast, then they looked at each other in slight bewilderment.
"Wot're we cheerin' for? We don't even know who Martin is."
"Well, whoever 'e is, I bet 'e don't 'ave ter wash pots 'n' pans. Oh aye, I shouldn't think they'd be a-sayin', ' 'Ey you, with the mighty sword, get those greasy ol' pots scrubbed.' ''
Samkim explained about Martin to the stoats. "Martin the Warrior is the symbol of our Abbey. He lived many many years ago."
Dingeye waved a careless paw. "Oh, y'mean 'e's dead. No wonder they never make 'im wash pots, heeheehee! Yowch!"
Thrugg had clipped Dingeye neatly over the ear. "Show some respect, matey. Martin is our Abbey Warrior."
Ruefully rubbing his stinging ear, the stoat complained, "Well, 'ow was I ter know? Besides, if a creature's dead, then 'e's finished, an' that's all there is to it."
Sister Nasturtium patted the stoat's back. "You don't understand. Martin may have died a long time ago, but his spirit lives on in the very stones of Redwall and its creatures. Maybe he has not been seen or felt because this is a time of peace, though in troubled times he has visited certain ones and inspired them to great deeds."
Thura scratched his head. "Have you ever seen Martin?"
A silence fell over the company as they watched Nasturtium. She looked as if she were dreaming. With her eyes wide open fixed on the red stone walls in front of her, she started slowly to recite words they had never heard before.
"I am but an orchard shadow in the sunny
tide of noon,
The dust of olden seasons on a stone. My paw is light and silent as a waning
autumn moon;
I walk the halls of memory, alone. You may hear me as a whisper that the
wind has left behind,
Or see me as the pale calm light of dawn, Feel me take the toll of care, from off
your sleeping mind,
44 Brian Jacques
In times of deep despair and hope forlorn. Then I will be beside you in the corridors
of dream. A warrior's strength I'll give to you, my
friend, Like the waters of a storm that swell a tiny
mountain stream,
A mightiness your loved ones to defend. Injustice and evil will flee from your law, As all about you will say, 'There walks one touched, by the Warrior's
paw.' So wait, I will find you one day."
In the eerie hush that followed, little Dumble's voice piped up. "Aaaahhh silly! I no no worra's all about, Sista."
Nasturtium blinked and shuddered. "That makes two of us, Dumble. I don't know what made me say those lines, I've never heard them before. It was ... it was as if someone else were sneaking and not me!"
Brother Hal, who was sitting nearby, stood up quickly. "Can you remember the poem again, Sister? Wait there, I'll go and get quill and parchment. It is my duty as Recorder to write it all down."