Grumm knew it was no use trying to change his friend"s mind. "Whurr be you"m a-goen? Wot be you"m a-goen t" do, Marthen?"
They listened carefully, knowing that this would be the last time he would speak to them at any length. "One day maybe I will hang up this sword and be a creature of peace. Until then, I must follow the way of the Warrior; it is in my blood. Have no fear, I will never mention Noonvale, or any of you. Noonvale is a secret place untouched by evil. I could not forgive myself if I 371.
unknowingly sent trouble there. n.o.beast will know from where I came."
Pallum stared quizzically at his stern-eyed friend. "But what will you say? We had such adventures together, maybe in another time and another place you will tell the tale."
"Never!" Martin shook his head slowly. "I will only say that I guarded my father"s cave against searats while he was away. When I felt that he would not return I began my wanderings. How could anybeast understand what we went through together, the freedom we won and the friends we lost?"
The comrades sat in silence, each with their own memories. Polleekin rose stiffly and cleared away the remnants of their final meal together.
Soft autumn sunlight had cleared away twining wreaths of mist that hung over the still woodlands, leaves were falling in a crisp brown carpet, and a mild h.o.a.r frost melted to glistening dewdrops as the five companions took their leave of each other in the silent, timeless morning. Martin carried his sword slung across his back over an old cloak. Polleekin had made packs of food for them all. Grumm held his ladle in front of his face to hide the tears he could not stop from flowing. Rowanoak embraced the Warrior awkwardly, standing back as Pallum and Grumm did likewise. Polleekin kissed them all on the cheeks.
Rowanoak squared her broad shoulders and smiled. "We will never forget you, Martin the Warrior. Come on, let"s see if we can make this place ring one last time with the old war cry!"
Birds flapped their startled wings as four voices yelled aloud, "Fur and Freedoooooom!"
Polleekin stood alone, watching as Martin was lost among the trees, a solitary figure going south. The ancient molewife slowly pawed her flowery ap.r.o.n, eyes 372.
clouding over as the destiny of the lone traveller stole unbidden into her mind.
"Hurr, oi told you"m "twould be bad fate iffen you"m returned t" Marshank wi" thoi mousemaiden. Naow thurr be on"y you"m left, young un. Bo urr, you"m got some "ard days to go yet awhoil, tho" "appiness will be thoine in toime yet t" come. But furr all seasons every-beast shall amember thoi name, Marthen "ee Wurrier!"
373.
45.
Down in Cavern Hole at Redwall Abbey, a night and a day had pa.s.sed and the fire and wall torches had been replenished four times since the mousemaid Aubretia had begun her story. There was not a one who had fallen asleep throughout the whole epic tale, nor was there a creature who had not shed a tear.
Abbot Saxtus took off his spectacles and sighed in the silence that had reigned since Aubretia stopped talking. "Polleekin was right, of course. Martin did go on to find happiness. He forsook the Warrior"s way and dedicated himself to peace, the founding of our order and the building of Redwall. But tell me, how did you know all this, who told the story to you, Aubretia?"
The big hedgehog Bultip put aside his tankard. "I can answer that, Father Abbot. Aubretia comes from the ruling line of Noonvale, though she and I have not been back there in a full season. The blood of Urran Voh runs in her veins-her great ancestor was called Brome the Healer, Brother of Rose. My great ancestor, far back in the mists of countless days, was called Pallum the Peaceful. I am a direct descendant of his line."
Simeon pa.s.sed his sensitive paws gently over Aubre-tia"s face. "You have inherited the beauty of Brome"s sister."
374.
The mousemaid undid a thong from about her neck. On it was a brilliantly carved locket of scallop sh.e.l.l. She opened it. "Every creature who sees this says the same thing."
Abbot Saxtus took the locket carefully. Inside was a picture painted with plant and vegetable dyes on a small tablet of polished cherrywood. It was a miniature portrait of Martin and Rose carried out in loving detail. Both their faces seemed to stare out at him across the dust and time of bygone seasons. "Martin looks exactly like his picture on the tapestry, though younger. You are right, Aubretia. You could have pa.s.sed for Rose"s twin sister. This is a marvellous thing, where did it come from?"
"It was given to the family of Brome by an owl called Emalet/"the mousemaid answered as she rummaged in her herb satchel. "Boldred her mother was a great artist, besides being a good mapmaker. Bultip and I left Noon-vale early last summer. We had heard tales of Martin and Redwall from travellers since we were babes, so we set out to see the Abbey for ourselves. Here is something I brought with me for Redwall."
The Abbot took the gift. Donning his spectacles, he looked at it curiously, turning it this way and that. "Thank you very much, but please excuse my ignorance, what is it?"
Aubretia explained about the sprig with its attached wet loam bag. "Grumm planted a rose on the grave of Rose. It is a red rose. Sometimes it flowers later than others, and we call it Laterose. This is a cutting from the original bush. It is very st.u.r.dy."
Simeon felt the little shoot tenderly. "This spring I will plant it in our Abbey grounds. It will bloom and flourish in memory of the mousemaid. Laterose, what a pretty name. That was Rose"s full t.i.tle as you told it, Laterose of Noonvale, daughter of Urran Voh and Aryah."
Abbot Saxtus returned Aubretia"s locket. "We thank you, my child, for everything. Laterose will remain pre- 375.
cious to Redwall Abbey. Martin gave it strength, now Rose will give it beauty. Now I am tired, and you must be too, friends. Go and rest. Stop at our home for as long as you wish-you are both welcome."
The entire company walked together up the stairs from Cavern Hole to their rooms. Aubretia and the Abbot went paw in paw. "Thank you for your offer, Father Abbot. Bultip and I would love to stay here through winter, until the spring."
"There is always room for you and Bultip here, Aubretia. Our Abbey is a place of friendship. Anyone, young or old, who has read or heard of Redwall may come and visit us. If you are honest and of good heart, no matter what the season our door is open to you. Whether for the first time, or for the return of an old companion, you are welcome. Please feel free to visit us anytime you pa.s.s by this way."